Polish Sausage

When I got home from work the lobby of my building smelled like Chinese food. I wondered which of my neighbors had ordered it.  I knew it probably wasn’t the gang of four sexy Polish construction workers who lived in the apartment across the hall from me on the second floor. That wasn’t their style. They would never get take out because they were saving their money to go back to Poland, live like kings and marry the girls next door or some version of that.  A couple of times a week they made their own big pots of kielbasa, potatoes and cabbage and they made their own fragrant pierogis which they put in their lunchboxes every day.

There was an upside-down takeout container filled with something fried rice right at my door.  I was pissed. I figured the three 30 something pothead slackers who shared the apartment above mine were so baked they hadn’t even realized they had dropped it on their way home from China Palace down the street.  They lived like three little unwashed bears with full beards, shuffling around in Birkenstocks and stained sweats. They made good money with a website, Hot Parts, that trafficked in stolen auto parts. The rest of the time they played video games.

I stepped over the mess and went into my apartment.  I’m an associate producer on a local news show and I was wearing a suit. I didn’t want to do any cleaning until I had changed. I slipped on a pair of running shorts, a wife beater and flip flops, got a broom and dustpan and started phase one of the clean-up. I got most of it but I needed my vacuum cleaner for phase two.

While I was vacuuming, my Polish neighbors trooped up the stairs to their apartment. They had just been dropped off by the same truck that picked them up in the morning.  Last week, their lean and rangy ringleader, Casmir, had magnificently pounded my ass and I’d been thinking about him ever since.  He was in his late thirties or early forties with a rugged, wind burnt face, hazel eyes and a lean, muscular frame. Using my own good neighbor policy, after I ran interference between him and the landlady, I sucked his ample, uncut, cock, my nose buried in the fragrant funk of his pubes. Then he fucked me so relentlessly that, for the first time, I squirted without touching myself. From deep inside my ass, I felt a twitching, sputtering sensation, like I was going to erupt and my eyes rolled back in my head. Then, suddenly, I had this spontaneous, joyous spurting that came from way down deep in my soul and felt spectacular on its way up and out.

I was always a top and not interested in getting fucked because I like to be in charge.                But with Casimir, the right combination of rugged man oozing testosterone, the sculpted stone of his body, the generous size of his uncut meat, the perfect angles of his penetration and the liberating realization that I was just a couple of holes to be used for his pleasure changed that. It was exhilarating and perversely empowering to be a hot, brawny man’s cum dump.

Three of my Polish neighbors stood there in their khaki coveralls, covered in dust and mud as they waited for Casimir, who must have had the keys.  I knew they were working at some construction site out in western New Jersey. The three of them, Jakub, Adrion and Filip nodded at me; we were just a few feet apart and I could smell the workday sweat on them. Jakub was in his thirties, short and full-bodied with thin, brown hair and large, mournful brown eyes. He always looked homesick and the rare times he smiled, I was surprised by his enormous dimples.  Adrion was tall, wiry and dark, with olive skin and thick black hair.  His face wore a permanent scowl and he always had a cigarette stuck between his lips. He looked like the meanest hitman in a Polish crime movie.      Filip was the baby of the quartet, twentysomething, lanky, with shining straw-colored hair and a round babyface. He looked more like a sensitive artist than a construction worker but art wasn’t going to get him the coins he needed to go back home.  When the gang first moved in, I spotted Filip first and imagined fucking him. He had the kind of lean body with a pouty ass that I liked. I wanted to give him the full treatment:  munch his hole for an hour and then fuck him for another hour--when I got the chance.

I looked forward to weekends when my Polish neighbors left their door open and walked around in their underwear, cooking up big pots of food and lustily singing the songs of their native Poland. I wanted to be invited to that party.

Casimir arrived and opened the door. Jakub, Adrion and Filip nodded again as they entered their apartment. Casimir was the last one to enter and I tried to give him a cool, non-committal smile, hoping for one in return. Instead, he winked at me and grabbed his substantial crotch as he closed the door behind him. My mouth watered and my hole twitched.  Was that an invitation?     I wanted to follow him but I had to clean up this spill.  I was encouraged though.   I might have another chance with him.

I got all the something and rice up, sprayed some carpet cleaner on the stain and let it sit. While I vacuumed it up I fantasized about Casimir and got horny.  It helped that the handle of my upright Kenmore hit me just at crotch level and its vibrations stirred my solid piece and big nuts.

Suddenly, I felt a whisper of air behind me and then hot breath on my neck. I jumped.                Big, callused hands grabbed my ass and massaged my butt cheeks. My cock sprang to attention and bounced against the handle of the Kenmore. I gulped and a big paw covered my mouth. It smelled, deliciously, of mud, sweat and cabbage.

“Shhh!” Casimir whispered wetly in my ear, vodka on his breath.

He yanked my shorts down to my ankles, twanging my stiff meat in the move.

“Yeow!” I blurted into his aromatic hand.

I kicked off my flip-flops and stepped out of the shorts. Casimir spread my cheeks and dug around for my clenched fuckhole. I could feel the contours of his granite chest and its light fur against my back. He found my hole and plunged a fat, rough finger deep inside and rooted around. His other big paw reached out and grabbed my meat and gave it five or six rough, massaging tugs as if he were milking a cow and wanted the cream instantly.

I moaned into the big paw. Casimir released my tool and let it spring up so it rested against the Kenmore’s handle, its vibrations thrumming through my lower body.  Then he gave my big nuts three or four tugs before he released them and gave them a punishing slap. Bad boys.

I managed to turn off the vacuum cleaner and push it aside. He put one plump finger in my mouth and I sucked on it, tasting the mud, the cabbage, paprika and some other exotic ingredients. His free arm was around my waist as he nudged me toward the banister and bent my torso over it. I could feel the heat and heft of his Polish sausage throbbing between my legs. He pulled his juicy finger out of my mouth and shoved it into my hole, rooting around like he was looking for a pot of gold. Then he put that hand over my mouth and popped that finger into it.  I could taste my own smoky interior.

With a grunt, his fat kielbasa slowly corkscrewed its way into me, inch by silky inch, while he growled Polish curses or poems into my hot ear. Szmata, szmata, szmata.

My hard cock poked under the banister, a thread of pre-cum oozing toward the first floor below me. I hoped that none of my neighbors needed to run out for a bag of Doritos and a bottle of Sprite.

Actually, I didn’t give a fuck who saw what because Casimir’s thick, pulsing shaft deep inside my stretched fuckhole felt so fucking good and natural. I saw my swollen mushroom head cock expand as I dreamily withstood this exquisite assault, a steady stream of man juice oozing from it. Casimir leaned forward, bit my ear and noticed the warm nectar drooling out of my meat.  He scooped up some of my nectar onto a stout finger and stuck it in my mouth to suck on. I liked the taste of myself: clean linen, hay, some salt, soap. Somebody should bottle this stuff.

It was all too good and too much, the swollen Polish cock in my snug fuckhole, the steady rocking that hit every sweet spot inside me, the smell of Casimir’s sweaty, manly body, the earthy funk that wafted from his hairy pits, the taste of my own jizz.  His vodka breath kept hissing szmata, szmata, szmata into my ear. I hoped it meant beloved, beloved, beloved.

I gripped the handrail with both hands to steady myself as Casimir plowed me, almost as if he was trying to burrow his way into my soul. His breaths got short and hoarse. I knew he was close.

I was getting close too as my center tensed around his rock-hard Polish pole. I resisted touching my pulsing meat, knowing that I could blow my load any second. I wanted to squirt hands-free again and feel, from deep inside, that dizzying, joyous full-body orgasm.

I heard the front door open, then the interior hall door. Before I pulled my head in I saw Allison, the middle-aged piano teacher who lived downstairs, enter with her ancient white poodle, Fifi. Casmir and I held our breath as she fumbled with her keys. My cock stuck out under the railing, driveling jizz onto the carpet below and on Fifi’s head. The ugly old pooch looked up and barked. Allison, who was wearing headphones, shooshed her and hustled into her apartment without looking up.   

I felt the juices rumbling from deep inside my crammed fuckhole and I knew I was ready to shoot. My hole tightened around Casimir’s rod and massaged it to tease the steaming jizz out of him.

Tak, Tak, Tak, Tak!  I heard him grunt in his smoky voice, then I felt his cock pumping its hot lava deep into me. I couldn’t hold out anymore and watched my tool rise and a big glop of juice shoot out and hit the staircase wall. The cream kept erupting out of me, flying through the air and landing with big, wet plops on the stairs and the carpet below. I watched it in amazement and felt Casimir’s rugged, stubbly face next to mine. He was watching too. So much, he said softly and then patted my cheek. We stayed attached like that, him leaning over me and me bent over the railing, his breath moist and thick. His fat, spent cock leaked its last sizzling juices into me and began to relax until it slid out of my gasping, punished fuckhole.

I wanted him to come into my apartment so we could get into my bed, snooze a little and then do it all over again, any way that worked for him. Casimir stood up straight and I stood too.  He cleared his throat. I fantasized that he was going to tell me that he loved me.

You don’t have to love me, I would say. Just keep fucking me.

But…

The throat clearing didn’t come from Casimir. I looked over and saw that his three roommates, Jakub, Adrion and young Filip were standing in and around their doorway with their briefs pulled down, stroking their cocks.  They had witnessed the whole scene. I was embarrassed for a second, then flattered. Judging by their boners, they were happy to see me. They opened their door wide and beckoned me forward. I scooped up my shorts and flip-flops. Casmir put a brawny arm around my waist, drawing me toward the open door. So, dragging the vacuum cleaner behind me, I went.