PM-AM

After shopping one Saturday morning, I found myself sitting at the ‘PM-AM’ gay bar at twelve-thirty in the afternoon. As the name suggests, those were there operating hours of the bar and it was open from noon until midnight. I was not a regular patron but once every couple of months I would pop in and have a drink. That Saturday morning had been an enjoyable one and after a hearty breakfast, all my shopping had gone flawlessly. I was in sore need of linen and towels because mine had reached their sell-by date. Miraculously, everything I had in mind magically came to hand. In celebration, I decided to toast my good fortune with a celebratory beer.

As I sat at the bar, a man entered and sat a seat away from me. He was a very large individual dressed in biker’s leather gear. The man’s head was clean-shaven and his facial hair looked like a three-pronged fork. His moustache extended down either side of his mouth by three inches in what looked like two waxed prongs, accompanied by a tuft of hair off the tip of his chin, also fashioned into a prong. He was handsome in a brutish way with very masculine facial features. There were not any visible tattoos on his neck, head, or right hand. His left hand, covered by a glove, lay placed on the bar counter. I could not help but notice that the gloved hand seemed almost static as it lay on the counter.

Not long after he turned to me and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Eddie,” he said.

“Hello, Eddie, I’m Sylvester,” I replied. After a brief pause, he continued, “Do you come here often?”

“No, not really,” I replied.

“That’s probably why I haven’t seen you before. I visit at least once a week, usually on Saturdays,” he informed me. After a brief silence, he asked, “So, what do you do Sylvester?”

The usual ‘historic’ exchange that occurs when meeting people now took place, with me going first. I told him my age, where I lived, what I did, and etcetera. Once my litany ended, I reciprocated with the same question.

“Nothing… Oh, I visit the gym every day and have a few hobbies. I even do the odd job here and there, but I don’t need to work at all,” he concluded.

“Wow, you’re very lucky,” I replied.

Eddie looked at me pensively for a few seconds before he smiled, and then asked, “Do you believe in miracles?”

Being a nonbeliever and not wanting to embark on a long explanation about my lack of religious belief, I merely shrugged in a noncommittal fashion.

“Eighteen months ago I had a terrible motorbike accident and lost my left hand,” Eddie said holding up his left hand as if offering proof. He then continued, “My hand was amputated just above the wrist.”

My mind went into a spin, wondering how losing one’s hand could be a miracle.

After taking a sip of his beer, Eddie then continued with his story. “Three months before the accident an insurance buddy of mine sold me an expensive disability policy. Truthfully, I was a little miffed that he had talked me into it and almost cancelled it three times.” Eddie then laughed and took another sip of his beer. “As a matter of fact… I had made up my mind to cancel the policy at the end of that month, which would have been two weeks after my accident.” Again, he paused for effect before concluding, “Well as a result of the policy I received a substantial lump sum pay-out, and as if that isn’t great enough, I also receive a generous monthly income.”

“Wow, that’s incredible,” was all I could think of saying.

Next, Eddie then told me how he had adapted to coping with his prosthetic hand. I heard all the ins and outs of how he had adjusted to it and the trials and tribulations that it had taken for him to do so. I found his story fascinating, and Eddie was growing on me by the second. I found myself totally captivated by him.

Eddie then brought me out of my reverie by asking, “Does amputation freak you out?”

“No, not at all,” I replied, genuinely. In all honesty, it was something I had never thought of. I had met people with missing fingers and limbs throughout my life and it had never elicited a reaction from me. A month before I had gone to bed with a guy that had his left index finger amputated after a snake bite, and it didn’t trouble me at all.

“Have you had people freak out on you?” I asked.

“Sure. Once in a while when I think I’m about to get lucky, once the person realizes that I have a missing hand they cannot get away from me quickly enough,” he informed me, but before I could respond he continued, “I’m never offended… people are what they are, so, what the fuck,” he concluded, matter-of-factly.               

“Generally, however, my disfigurement provokes little or no reaction at all,” he informed me, with a smile. Then, with an impish look on his face, he resumed, “Of course, then there are the fetish guys who are incredibly turned on by my missing hand.”

“Really… Why?” I asked naïvely.

Eddie looked at me for a good few moments before answering. “Sylvester, have you ever been fisted?”

“No… In fact, I’ve never even been double-fucked,” I uttered with a laugh.

With an almost sympathetic look on his face, he then asked, “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of stump fucking?”

“Actually… No, I haven’t,” I replied with a stammer.

“Well, I’m sure I don’t explain what that is because the name says it all,” he replied.

There was a brief pause as we both took a sip of our beers. Afterward, he again looked at me before continuing, “In fact, getting stump-fucked is a lot more comfortable than being fisted, because there are no knuckles to contend with.” The afternoon was becoming more interesting and intriguing by the minute.

“Do you enjoy stump fucking someone?” I asked, totally fascinated.

“Sure, it’s awesome. There is a connection that happens which is difficult to describe. It as if two bodies become one,” Eddie explained.

Looking at the thick wrist of his right arm and imagining that the left one would not be much smaller, I persisted, “But surely it must hurt like hell?”

Eddie smiled, and then answered, “The initial discomfort is well worth the pleasure that follows.” Then with a looked of sincerity in his eyes, Eddie continued, “It’s all about trust, Sylvester. I am not into the domination and discipline bullshit. For me, it is all about pleasure. Besides, the stump has an enormous benefit.”

Picking up, on the questioning look on my face, Eddie resumed, “One of my hobbies is penis pumping and I’m into the whole saline thing as well.” As if to prove the point, Eddie shifted his body and stood to face me. As I looked down, I observed the fully stuffed large pouch in front of his leather pants. It was mind-blowing!

Next, Eddie sat down once more and persisted with his story. “I already had a large cock before I began pumping, but now it’s awesome,” he informed me with pride. “The trouble is; my knob is no longer as rigid as it used to be, but once the stump has done its job, anal entry is not a problem at all.”

I felt like I was in information overload, not knowing what to further ask or say on this subject, and so I decided to change tracks.

“What other hobbies do you have?” I finally asked.

“Art. I have a good collection of paintings, mostly abstract, and some beautiful sculptures,” Eddie informed me.

“Cool, I love art,” I honestly replied.

“What are your further plans for the day?” he inquired.

“Nothing,” I answered, before processing the question properly.

“Well, come to my place and I show you around. If you behave yourself I’ll even make a barbeque,” Eddie suggested, encouragingly.

As the full realization of the invitation dawned on me, Eddie could see the anxious look on my face.

“Sylvester, I like you and I have enjoyed your company. My invitation is totally above board.” Then with a smile, he continued, “I don’t have a dungeon and I won’t enslave you for my sexual gratification.” We both had a good laugh.

Twenty minutes later, I was in my vehicle and following his motorbike.

Eddie’s home was stunning. The garden was beautifully laid out and the interior, modern and tasteful. The paintings and sculptures were exceptional. After the grand tour, we finally arrived back in the lounge.

“Do you mind if get out of these clothes and get more comfortable?” Eddie politely asked.

“Not at all,” I replied.

Eddie left to his room and after a couple of minutes returned only wearing a pair of shorts. As I had suspected, he had a magnificent body. It was muscular and incredibly well-formed. Eddie had fewer tattoos than I would have imagined, only located on his upper arms. The bulge in the front of his shorts, however, was mesmerizing.  Try as hard as I may, I simply could not stop staring at it as he sat open-legged across from me on the other sofa.

He had retained his prosthetic hand but the black glove from earlier had been removed. I now observed that the prosthetic hand had a latex sleeve cover. Eddie told me that he had two prosthetic hands. The one he wore was the simpler of the two. The other hand was very advanced and he assured me that I would be astonished when prepared our food in the kitchen later. Next, he asked me how hungry I was. I told him about the huge breakfast I had enjoyed that morning, and therefore, I was in no hurry to eat too soon.   

We continued chatting about art as we sat sipping our beers. Having caught me out once too often, gawking at his lump, Eddie stood up and suggested, “Why don’t I put you out of your misery?” A look of embarrassment now crossed my face as he sniggered.

Eddie pushed his shorts down and let them drop to the floor, before kicking them aside. His shorts were not the only thing that dropped, and I had to force my open jaw shut.

I had seen pictures of pumped-up dicks on the internet and could never understand why anybody would want to do that. In all the photos, I had seen the cocks usually looked misshapen and grotesque. Huge as Eddie’s nuts and his uncut knob was they were beautiful. When he sat back down he looked at me, smiled, and then said, “You’re looking a little overdressed, Sylvester, why don’t you also get more comfortable?”

Gingerly, I kicked off my sandals, then got up and undressed. I was very pleased to see a very approving look on Eddie’s face.

A short while later he decided that we should move through to the kitchen and pre-prepare our meal. Eddie put on his other prosthetic for this job. It was very metallic looking and as he had predicted, I was, stunned by the dexterity. After two steaks, were placed in a tangy marinate, Eddie then chopped up all that was needed for the salad that I assembled. He also decided that we would have oven-fries with the meal.

Afterward, we returned to the lounge. This time, however, Eddie sat next to me on the sofa.

“Do you mind if I removed my hand?’ Eddie asked.

After Eddie did so, I got a proper look at the end of the stump. I could not believe how neat the amputation scar was. “Are you sure you are cool with this?” he asked. Instead of answering, I extended my arm and touched the end of his left arm. It felt incredibly smooth.

Eddie’s, right hand, which was now behind me on the sofa, cupped the back of my head and drew my mouth toward his lips. As Eddie commenced kissing me, my eager left hand clamped onto his knob. I could not believe how bulbous it was. It felt slightly spongy to the touch, but a lot more rigid than I had anticipated.

As much as I was enjoying the kissing, my mind was in somewhat of a spin. Eddie had clearly laid out a roadmap of his sexual approach in the bar and I was not sure I would be able to deal with it. I began to feel like I was boarding the most extreme roller-coaster ride of my life, and the carriage I was on was about to pull away from the embarkation platform. ‘What if I won’t be able to cope?’ I thought to myself.

We kissed for a few minutes before he pulled his head back, and then asked, “Do you trust me, Sylvester?”

My heart was beating so fast that I was unable to answer. Eddie smiled before moving his head in once more and gently kissing my lips. When he pulled his head away again, he reiterated his question, stressing each word deliberately.

“Yes,” I replied, with a nervous whimper.

Eddie once more kissed me before getting to his feet. Extending his right hand toward me he said, “Come… Let’s go to the bedroom.”

When we entered the bedroom, it felt like the roller coaster had just left the platform. We stood and kissed at the foot of the bed for a short while before Eddie told me to lie on the bed on my stomach and open my legs wide.

After retrieving a large jar of lubrication, Eddie got on the bed between my legs. “Apart from trusting me, there’s one other thing you need to do for me,” he uttered.

“What?” I asked.

“Relax.” Then, without waiting for a reply from me he continued, “If you don’t relax, then this will be unpleasant for you. If you do relax, then I’m going to take you to heaven today.”

“Okay,” I uneasily answered.

I commenced inhaling and exhaling long breaths of air, forcing my mind into as calm a state as I could manage. As I did so, Eddie pushed his thumb into my backside and began to move, back and forth. It felt unbelievably good and I began to unwind and enjoy the experience. Next, after extracting his thumb his first two fingers entered me and began to work my arse. Shortly, his fingers began to open and close as they twirled inside me. After a third finger entered me, a slight level of discomfort overcame me. It was not anything too hectic and I continued to regulate my breathing to cope with it. I again got used to the sensation quickly and continued my relaxed breathing.

As he extracted the three fingers, they got replaced by his stump. When Eddie began moving the stump back and forth on my sphincter, I knew that the decisive moment had arrived. His approach was unhurried and I was able to quell my nervous anticipation. As the oscillating stump commenced grinding my manhole, I amazingly remained calm. Shortly, I began to feel the pressure of the stump as he began to prise me open.

When it popped inside me, it staggered me that it was not, as uncomfortable as I had anticipated. It certainly got my attention, but it was far less hectic than I imagined. Eddie immediately began to twist the stump back and forth, as he entered me at a glacial pace. The pressure was sustained but slow, affording me the minimum level of discomfort. I had never felt anything more exhilarating in my life as I acclimatized to his forearm. As Eddie gradually infiltrated me, he kept reporting the percentage of his arms depth. A quarter, then a half, followed by three-quarters, before he was elbow deep in my arse.

After working my backside relentlessly, Eddie extracted the stump and quickly replaced it with his speared right hand. Eddie had closed his fingers around his thumb forming a spearhead, and this is what he now pushed into me. Although I felt the knuckles, as he swiftly entered me. The discomfort was minimal, because my arse had already, been stretched by his forearm.  

If anyone had told me that morning as I ate my breakfast, that I would be on a bed being fisted that afternoon, I would have told them, that they were smoking dope. Yet, there I was.

Eddie now began to display the full extent of his talent. As his fingers began to tickle my prostate, I knew that I had arrived in paradise as that he had promised. The adroit manipulation by his fingers was heavenly and I had never been more stimulated in my life. I knew that my orgasm would not be far off and sooner than I had expected, I was gasping as my balls contracted ecstatically.

“Oh, fuck, I’m going to cum, fuck, Jesus, oh fuck, aaah,” I exalted.

His fingers urged his encouragement as they drove me to the cliff edge. Shortly, I was grunting as my spunk spewed all over his bed in a release that I had never believed imaginable. I had scarcely stopped panting after his hand got extracted before Eddie commenced pushing his bloated knob into me. With our bodies now glued together, Eddie started fucking me feverishly. The ecstasy seemed never-ending as he pounded my backside on outstretched arms. Eddie’s hips drove his knob into me like a jackhammer for the next few minutes before he roared, before unloading his spunk into my arse. Afterward, he collapsed onto me panting frantically.             

When we returned to the kitchen, Eddie got our early dinner underway. He had again attached his advanced prosthetic hand, and I was again amazed by the dexterity of the hand as we prepared our meal, then ate it, before taking care of the dishes afterward. 

We sat in the lounge later and chatted as we listened to music. Apart from the incredible sex that I had enjoyed, Eddie and I were getting on very well. We were in harmony with one another and it felt like we had been lifelong friends. His conversation also intrigued me, as he kept referring to; ‘when you come again, we must go here or there, I must show you this or that.’ It was almost as if I had become an integral part of his life. Later, when we returned to the bedroom, another dimension of his sexual approach was exposed. As we got onto the bed with me on my back, Eddie straddled my body. With my arms pinned to my sides by his legs, he sat lightly on my chest and looked down at me smiling.

Eddie now ran his finger inside his cock hood before offering it to my nostrils. The smell was rather pungent. The look of anticipation on his face was so eager, however, that I felt compelled to acknowledge my approval. Smiling, Eddie now slowly withdrew the thick skin of his foreskin, as if unveiling a treasure. After he did so, a strong-smelling foreskin odour assailed my nostrils.

“Do you often wash your foreskin?” he asked me.

“Yes, all the time,” I informed him.

“You must stop doing that,” he told me, before resuming, “I have a ripe foreskin fetish, it’s a smell that turns me on.”

I cannot say that I shared his fetish but it was far less offensive than I had expected, and I enthusiastically licked the pungent head of his dick. Oddly, along with all the other practices I got introduced to that day, I fell in with his request and soon came to love the scent of an unwashed foreskin.

Eddie gave my face a good working over with his smelly orb before turning his body around and sucking my knob. The mass of flesh that now hung above me was awesome. Naturally, I was unable to suck his dick properly, but my hands and tongue did the best they could. Eddie, however, was a cocksucker of note, and before long, I was once more erupting ecstatically. After taking my load in his mouth, he once more turned around and let me tug on his massive knob. It took a good few minutes before spunk oozed out of the thick snout above me.

That night, I got stumped and fucked a further three times. Eddie also asked to stay the following day, and I only returned home early on Monday morning.

As I sat at work on Monday, I wondered if I would be seeing him again. That question got answered, when I got a call from Eddie at eleven, asking what I wanted for dinner. The eleven o’clock phone call became a daily occurrence thereafter as saw less and less of my home.

Two months later, I moved in with Eddie.