Why am I awake? Usually the only time I see three A.M. is when he has had a sex dream and is forcing the resultant boner into its favorite hole. But he’s not doing that right now. Right now the stillness is palpable, ruffled only by the gentle rhythm of his soft and regular breath. Right now I can feel his dick, nestled between my cheeks, near that hole, and no urgent rush of blood has brought it to attention. So I am left wondering.
Did something wake me up? Was there some disturbance? A noise perhaps, or some other unexpected event? I did not perceive anything unusual, and I had not awoken with a start. Rather it had been gentle, a slow perception of consciousness growing stronger in the deepening peace of the velvet night. Far from being startled, my first perception was the warmth of his embrace. The rise and fall of his chest against my back, the scratch of his beard against the back of my neck, the soft flow of breath tickling my ear. As always his dick was pressed firmly against my ass, and one leg had found its way between my knees, forcing my legs apart just enough. One arm snaked under my head, my favorite pillow, and the other was wrapped over my body. Sometimes he would wrap it around my chest, absently playing with a nipple in the night, but usually his free hand found its way south. So it was tonight. He held my balls gently but firmly, even in his sleep, the way a child would hold his teddy bear. Sometimes it felt like he was asserting ownership, claiming them as his to play with as he pleased. But more often they seemed to bring him comfort, a sense of not being alone.
Tonight that is how it feels, but I am the one taking comfort from this connection. The warmth of his hand cradling my balls makes me feel…I don’t know…safe, protected. How rare this is. Most guys who have had access to my balls, if they didn’t ignore them, wanted to abuse them. Slap them, or squeeze them. Use them to assert their dominance over me by making me cower or whimper. It’s a top thing, I guess, and for some guys it works. More than once I watched a guy’s dick get harder and harder the more he made me squirm. I tolerated the abuse for the sake of the hard dick that I knew would soon be tearing my guts apart.
There were times when that was the only way I could get fucked, but now things are different. He also likes to dominate me, but it never takes the form of abuse. He knows just where my limits are and, while he enjoys taking me right to the edge, he seems to take pride in knowing when to stop. If anything, I’m the one who decides when to step out of our comfort zones. Last week he tied my hands to the bed posts and threw my legs over his shoulders so he could fuck me deep while doing things like choking me, torturing my nipples, and holding his face just inches from mine to watch how I respond. I love it when he does this. It makes me feel so vulnerable, like my body is his plaything and he can do anything he wants and there is nothing I could do to stop him. Of course, he can easily overpower me. He is much stronger than I am, and has at least fifty pounds of muscle over my rather slight frame. But I love how much pleasure he gets from controlling me, from being the one to make the decisions. He knows just how much torture my nipples can take before it becomes distracting. On that particular night I wanted to have a prostate orgasm. This meant that I needed a dick in my ass and some serious nipple torture. He was glad to do his part, fucking my ass for all he was worth, and going at my nipples full force. I soon became lost in the mix of pain and pleasure and kept asking for more. He hesitated, knowing that he had reached my normal limit for nipple torture, but he could see the intense pleasure I was feeling, so he continued. After a few more minutes his dick hit my prostate just right and triggered the kind of full bodied orgasm that shook me from head to toe. Seeing me lost in that eternal moment of joy was all it took to send him over the edge, and flood my insides with the scalding proof of his own ecstasy.
He collapsed on top of me, awash with sweat and fulfillment. In the morning, when he went to untie me, he noticed that my nipples were more red than usual. I thought nothing of it. It was normal for my nipples to be tender for at least a day or two after such an intense session, and if possible I would sometimes avoid wearing a shirt, since the fabric rubbing against those sensitive nubs could become quite distracting. But this time it was different. He had actually gone at them with such force that he had rubbed the skin off of them in places. Small spots of blood were visible, and over the next few days scabs would bear witness to how far I had pushed him. He was horrified at the idea he had actually caused bodily harm, even though it was at my urging. I knew he was going to be overly cautious with my nipples for a while and I would have to calm his feelings of guilt.
This is why I feel so cared for when he holds my balls at night. That strong hand has the potential to crush them beyond bearing, but the gentle heart that controls it…well, such a thing would be impossible. I have been aware of the beating of his heart over the last few minutes, and now begin to feel a corresponding pulse between my ass cheeks as his dick begins to harden. A twitch in the arm under my head confirms it. He must be dreaming. Perhaps he is dreaming about the day trip we took last weekend. While the event we attended was fun, the drive home was even better.
We went to a pot luck at a clothing optional men’s campground and spa. The entertainment was a few games of bingo, hosted by a couple of the local drag queens. Between the playfulness of the queens, the variety of good food, and the multitudes of dicks to look at, we left feeling energized and excited. He seemed particularly moved, driving with one hand while the other massaged his dick through his pants. “Someone’s horny,” I chuckled, giving him a wicked side eye.
“Yeah, well,” he began, not knowing quite what to say. “There were some hot guys there tonight.”
“There were, indeed,” I agreed. “Which one did you like best?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” He was teasing me and I knew it. “Maybe one of the bears sitting in the back corner.”
“You don’t like bears,” I countered. “You like little guys, like me, so you can push us around.”
He smirked. “Yeah, usually, but did you see the lap dance that one guy gave his friend? Now that was hot. How come you never dance for me?”
“Is that what you want?” I asked, sliding my hand under his to take over working his dick.
I guess I surprised him a bit, because the car swerved slightly. “Woah! Give a guy some warning.”
“Since when do you need warning?” I asked, giving his dick a squeeze. It was hard, but I could feel it getting harder as I worked it.
He had placed his free hand back on the wheel and was trying hard to keep his concentration on the road. “Why don’t you pull into the gas station up the road?” I suggested. “It’s closed by now, and we should have some privacy in the back of the parking lot.”
“I don’t know.” He hesitated, but turned his blinker on as we approached. There were not many truck stops in this part of the state, so it was not uncommon for truckers to pull into such places for a little nap during the night. One such truck was parked in the middle of the lot, so we pulled in on the far side of it, near some trees.
“I need a piss,” I said as he turned the engine off. “I’ll be right back.” When I returned, he was still sitting behind the wheel, but he had pushed his seat back as far as it would go, and most importantly, his pants were in the back seat. I opened the door and stuck my head in, but froze at the sight of his hard cock resting on the steering wheel. “I can’t do a lap dance there, it’s too crowded. Get into the back seat.”
“The lap dance can wait till we get home,” he said with a wicked grin. “I want a different kind of dance.” He flipped on the headlights and motioned to the front of the car. “Strip!”
“But the trucker…” I protested.
“So.” The twinkle in his eyes made it clear that I would not win this argument. “You’re not getting back in this car until you’re naked.” And with that he turned on some dance music and sat back to watch. I’ve never been exactly shy about my body, but neither am I an exhibitionist, and this was a bit more public than I was comfortable with. “Get on with it!” he shouted over the music. “The longer you hesitate, the more likely it is that some stranger will catch us.”
I stepped into the spotlight and began to move to the music, slowly at first, but once I had removed my tee shirt, I began to loosen up. I couldn’t see the interior of our car because of the glare from the lights, but I could just make out a dim silhouette in the cab of the truck. We had clearly disturbed the trucker’s nap and he was watching discreetly through a closed window. At first I worried he might call the cops or something, until I noticed the regular rhythmic movement of his right shoulder. He was jerking off as he watched. I didn’t really need anything to egg me on, but this removed any hesitation I had left.
I used every dance move I knew, slowly peeling off various articles of clothing as I performed for the two men who were watching. At some point the trucker must have opened his window, because I began hearing the occasional “Fuck yeah!” and “Shake it baby!” coming from his direction. When I was finally naked, I didn’t stop, but continued to stroke my cock, waving my hard dick at the trucker, almost forgetting my other audience member. Finally, I bent over, spread my ass cheeks, and shoved a finger in as deeply as I could. That’s when I heard the trucker losing it. “Oh God! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I looked up to seem him rocking back and forth, almost doubled over.
As I gathered up my clothes, I heard the trucker say, “Next time, come on up and sit on it. I’ll give you a bigger tip.” And with that I saw a twenty dollar bill wafting to the ground.
I debated for a moment before deciding I had earned it. “Much obliged,” I nodded as I walked back to the car. I was greeted with roars of laughter when I got in. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” I asked, doubting myself.
“On the contrary,” he chuckled, “That was spectacular. I’m going to have to start renting you out to parties.”
“Very funny,” I chided. I began to untangle my underwear from the rest of my clothes.
“Oh no!” he interrupted, grabbing my shorts and tossing them into the back seat where his pants still sat. “No clothes for you until tomorrow morning.” He reached over and gave my cock a few quick strokes. I was still quite hard, and he knew I would do whatever he wanted once I was horned up. “You may have satiated your new friend there, but I’m still…unsatisfied.”
The feeling of his hand on my dick caused me to gasp as my hips managed an involuntary thrust. “What do you want?”
“When we get home, I’m going to fuck that ass of yours so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week,” he purred into my ear as he pulled my head towards him. “But for now, you’re going to give me road head all the way home.” Not giving me time to respond, he forced my mouth onto his dick, and raised his hips to force it all the way in. I only gagged briefly, having swallowed his throbbing boner so many times it felt like a natural part of my own body.
I was only vaguely aware of him starting the car and pulling forward. He paused beside the truck to let the trucker see me on his dick before driving off. I think the trucker said something like “You’re a lucky man,” causing him to slap my naked ass and respond “Don’t I know it!” The rest of the ride home was a blur of hard dick, pre-cum, and the occasional finger in my ass. When we arrived home, he kept his promise, and fucked me so hard I had to call in sick the next day.
Even now, the memory of that night has the power to make me hard almost instantly. I don’t know if that’s what he’s dreaming about now, but whatever it is it’s having the same effect on him as that memory is on me. I hear his breathing change, as his dick continues to grow. He lets out a soft moan and I feel him press his hips against me hard. I know where this is going. He gives my balls a gentle quick squeeze, before moving his hand to his mouth for some spit, then to my waiting hole. As he slips himself in there is no urgency, only a sense of belonging. Now that he is in me he will stay there until morning, cycling between various levels of hardness as he moves through different parts of the sleep cycle. But he will not go completely soft until he pulls out just before we get up. He reaches for my balls, and lets out a contented sigh before his breathing changes to the deeper rhythm of a sleeper.
I still don’t know what woke me up, but I have a theory. When I was a child, my grandmother taught me that when we wake up in the night it’s because God wants us to pray for someone. That explanation may have worked for her, but I don’t share the oversimplified belief system that inspired such blind faith. My world is full of doubt and uncertainty. But perhaps if there is a greater power in the universe, I am being called to pray. Not a prayer of supplication to request something, but a prayer of thanksgiving. Thanksgiving for the hand that finds comfort holding the most intimate and vulnerable parts of me at night, the dick that is only at home when it is inside me, and the gentle heart that finds his pleasure in my pleasure.
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