This story is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in it are 18+ of age.
As usual, I'm very happy to receive any and all feedbacks, whether it's about the writing or direction of the story, other works you wanna see, or just chat in general. Thank you for reading!
My name is August.
It's supposed to mean “great” or "respected one" or something lofty like that. Sadly, the truth is always plainer than you'd expect. My parents simply picked that name because I was born in the month of August. No grand destiny, just a calendar page.
Such a boring reason probably reflects my own average life. It's a very mundane cycle, from my apartment to university, then work, and back to the apartment. But it makes up a pretty nice, normal life, in my opinion.
My only source of enjoyment comes from my night walks in the city's slummy streets. They're probably going to get me mugged one day, but the freedom born from the empty streets and silent alleys allows me to breathe and let go of my stress and worries.
Such an empty routine way of living is probably why I ended up with Ernie, a guy whose life seems to be constantly on fire. He's definitely not my boyfriend or anything, and while I might call us fuck buddies, I think we're not quite that either. Maybe you'd call me his mistress or something? Except that Ernie is not married. At least, I don't think so...
I’m 26, but people say I look younger. My soft black hair and light beard just add to the boyish impression somehow. I used to be annoyed by it, but I got over it. My body is lean, not skinny, but not thick. Ernie’s the opposite. He's thick and hairy, scruffy black hair and beard that put mine to shame, his square face rough but with a hidden handsomeness to it, like a statue that wasn't preserved properly. I always find myself staring at his face and wondering whether he's really handsome or if I'm reading too much into his features.
If you ever come across Ernie, you'll most likely find him wearing his blue running suit and glued to his archaic flip phone, texting like a maniac, a cigarette dangling hands-free from his lips. You'll also probably immediately tell that his temper’s a landmine, ready to blow at the drop of a hat. I'm lucky to dodge most of his shitstorms by virtue of being a calm bystander. I think he purposely avoids directing his outbursts at me, but I have no way to tell if that’s truly the case.
...............................................................
It’s Monday night, and we’re in my apartment.
It’s a shoebox with bare but clean white walls, a sagging couch, and a fridge that sputters like it has pneumonia. The bed creaks loudly, sheets are twisted at our feet, and the air is thick with the smell of sweat and musk.
I'm on all fours, ass up, gripping the headboard as Ernie drills into me. He’s crouching behind me, one hand on my hip and the other on my shoulder. His grip is strong and a bit painful, as if he’s trying to stop me from moving an inch. His hairy body slams against mine, both of us slick with sweat, and his muscles ripple under his skin as he holds the difficult position while his cock plunges in deep, each thrust a jolt that rips a moan from my throat. Loud and raw, bouncing off the walls. My hair’s sticking to my forehead, and my body is trembling, barely able to hold itself as it gets lost in the fuck. My dick throbbing and leaking against the sheets as it sways back and forth with his thrusts.
“Fucking hell, Auggie,” Ernie growls, voice low and guttural, not sweet but heavy, like he’s purging something.
“This ass is so fuckin’ tight, takin’ me deep.”
His words are raw, spilling out like he’s possessed, his beard scraping my shoulder as he leans in, breath hot and smoky. His cock stretches me wide and the burn is fierce. His solid head hitting that spot that makes my vision spark. I push back greedily, my hips rolling to meet him, needing every inch. And I do feel every inch of his warm tool rub my insides. My movement is erratic as I try to chase that pleasure his cock gives me. My moans turn to broken and desperate gasps as the bedframe rattles on like it’s gonna collapse.
“Fuck, don’t stop, give it to me,” I pant, voice cracking as he pounds harder, the slap of skin on skin filling the room.
My body’s on fire, every nerve screaming. My dick is so hard it hurts, and it spews precum left and right.
“Ain’t stoppin’ till I cream your ass,” Ernie grunts, one hand moving from my hip to my lower back, pressing me down, making me arch more. He smacks my ass, hard, the sting sharp and electric, and that makes me hornier as I clench around him, milking his cock and pulling a deep, “Fuck, yeah,” from him. His other hand grabs my hair, yanking my head back less than gently, forcing my back to bow.
“Fuckin’ hungry slut,” he rasps, his thrusts brutal now, each one driving me into the mattress. His hairy chest grazes my back, our sweat mixing as he drips onto me. He shifts, angling to hit my prostate dead-on, and the moment he does that, I’m sent into a frenzy. My body seizes as his fuck stick drives harder than ever into me, pushed by nothing other than animalistic urge, trying to reach deep into my bowels. I can feel his hairy balls slap against my ass as he ruts into my ass. It doesn’t take long for my body to betray me and I cum, a guttural cry tearing out of me and probably alerting the neighbors. The heat from Ernie's fucking spreads from my ass and insides to my cock and before I know it, I’m spraying cum across the sheets like a hose, my arms buckling and threatening to finally give out, but Ernie doesn’t let me.
His grip keeps me up, pulling me back to meet him. I fall back onto his sturdy chest as he continues to drive into me like a jackhammer. He turns my head around and attacks my mouth with his, our tongues twisting and circling in each other's mouths. Meanwhile, his cock is relentless, fucking me through the waves of my orgasm.
“That’s it, baby, fuck through it, use it,” he growls with a tight voice, his own control fraying. His thrusts start going wilder, making our bodies smack dangerously with every plunge. His cock batters my hole violently for quite some time before he finally cums.
With one big final thrust, he buries himself balls-deep. His roar vibrates against my skin as he unloads his hot, thick seed in the deepest part of my hole. I can feel his cock pulsing as he fills me, alive and hot and hard. The warmth from his load makes me tingle on the inside. Sweat drips from his drneched face onto my back, and rolls on the skin between us until it joins the rest of the fluids pooling underneath my hole where his cock remains lodged deep.
When he finally lets himself relax, after breathing heavily for a while as he comes down from his orgasm, he collapses onto me and we crash into the bed, his weight pressing me down. It’s suffocating, but the mixture of sweat and cum and musk fills my nostrils as his hands hug my head for balance, and I feel my cock that’s trapped against the bed spasm once again, the smell feeding my horniness.
We stay like that for a while, slowly recuperating, before he finally pulls out slowly with a wet ‘pop’ as his deflating penis leaves my asshole, letting his cum leak, the mess big and filthy. I feel the hot seed slide between my legs and coat my balls before staining my sheets. But it doesn’t bother me since they’re already so stained with our fluids, it might as well be their natural color.
Ernie rolls onto his back, grabbing a cigarette from the roughed-up pack on the nightstand. He lights it with a flick of his Zippo lighter and takes a long drag. One arm goes behind his head, the other holds the cig as he breathes out, exhausted, and the smoke curls upward in the stagnant air of the apartment. I take a while longer to recover, my body still buzzing from my anal orgasm. They don't always happen, but every once in a while, Ernie’d fuck like a man possessed and I'd lose myself to his mighty girthy cock. It was almost like he found new areas to fuck inside me, probing my sweet spot from new angles.
After a while, I turn around, my ass squishing the now cold load underneath me as I lay on my side of the narrow bed. I grab my phone and scroll aimlessly, the sting of Ernie’s brutal pounding still lingering on my body.
“Your firdge is fucking broken. All my beers are hot as shit,” he says, gazing at the roof as he draws another breath from his cigarette.
“Yeah, I already had to throw the eggs and milk out yesterday,” I reply nonchalantly. Ernie exhales smoke, his voice rough. “If you know then fucking fix it or get a new one already. You’re gonna give me the runs.”
“Not exactly swimming in cash here, buddy,” I mutter, my voice lacking the edge my retort should carry.
He opens his mouth to say something, probably curse me or the landlord or any other unfortunate human that comes to his mind at that moment, but the flip phone on the nightstand buzzes, and he abandons the conversation to read the incoming text.
“Bunch of idiots,” he grumbles, frowning as his eyes scan the incoming message, "Can’t catch a fucking break. Always screwing shit up.”
His outburst earns a glance from me before I return to my phone. I'd be more interested if his "coworkers" didn't fuck shit up for him, supposedly. I don’t know what he does, exactly, or what the flip phone is for, but it's something shady, most probably. From the round the clock texts to the random names like Vito and Carl that I catch between his curses or orders, to the incomprehensible schedule on which he operates, it's all beyond what I care to know, so I don’t ask and he doesn’t tell. And if there’s anything I learned about dealing with Ernie, it’s that going with the flow is usually the best bet.
“Need to get some sleep,” he says, stubbing out the cigarette and pulling me against him, “Probably gonna be out of town for two, three days.”
His arm’s heavy across my back, but I relax into him. We stink of sex and cum, but the window is letting in enough cool breeze to make the our stewing bodies bearable. The sounds of distant cars and dog barks and yelling also sneak in. I quickly drift off to the city’s white noise as the smell of Ernie’s cigarettes hangs in the air, the sound of his heartbeat booming in my ear.
...............................................................
I wake up to a pretty grey morning sky. But the clouds covering the sun absolutely do not help with the suffocating heat. My body’s heavy, thighs and ass sore from Ernie's fucking last night. I can almost still feel his grip on my body, so much so that I check myself for bruises.
The bed is cold, just me and the sheets. I have a faint memory of someone patting my head in my sleep, before the bed creaked as he got up and left. The cum from last night leaked everywhere underneath me, all soaked up by the sheets and probably the mattress, and the smell of Ernie's sweat and cigarettes is faint but present.
My phone’s dead on the nightstand. Yesterday's activity prevented me from plugging it in before going to sleep. I pull out the charger and do so now to get as many percentages as possible before I leave. The clock says 7:31 a.m., and I drag myself up, feet hitting the rough floor. It looks dirty, but that's just the shoddy tiles. It bites into my soles as I wake up properly.
I shuffle to the bathroom. Quick piss, then a quick shower to wash off the sweat and cum from last night, then I brush my teeth. Ever since I started brushing my teeth as a kid, I think I only ever skipped doing it twice in my whole life. Twice a day, every day, one of my unbreakable routines.
I make myself a small cup of instant coffee and spread some butter and strawberry jam on a piece of toast. But before I dig in, I make sure to gulp down as much water as I can. It's warm and sits in my stomach, but I quickly start eating and finish my breakfast in less than 5 minutes.
The fridge groans again. I only discovered something’s wrong the other day when I opened it the other day and the smell of spoiled cheese and meat assaulted me. Ernie’s right, I should probably fix it. But the end of the month is near, and I can hold out till then. Otherwise, he can store his beers somewhere else.
I throw on jeans and a black polo t-shirt that I laid out yesterday, then check how much my phone charged before leaving. 12%. Oh well. I stuff two books for my university courses in my backpack, and I’m out the door by 8:15.
The coffee shop’s a ten-minute walk, wedged between a pawn shop with grimy windows and a laundromat humming with dryers. The dingy neighbors only serve to highlight its chic design. 'Carla's Place', the sign on the entrance says in bright green letters. Immediately upon entering, I'm greeted with the smell of coffee beans and wood. Carla, the owner and my boss, is at the counter, hair in a sloppy bun, yelling at the new kid who’s fucked up an espresso when she spots me.
"Oh, thank God!" she says, following the crying kid inside, “you're on register. I can't let him touch the espresso machine."
I nod, taking an apron from the closet and tying it on before taking my spot.
The morning rush hits hard. Many faces come and go, but I had long since given up on trying to read them. Instead, you'd have a much better time telling them apart using other things. Suits, school backpacks, a stroller, you name it. One suit in particular snaps her order like I’m her servant. I don’t really mind since I don't understand where people get all that energy to be angry from. I even make a habit of observing the especially rude ones, like monkeys at the zoo. Just punch in their drinks, pour their coffee, and smile tamely as I hand it to them. Carla says that makes me great with the customers, but I don't think so.
A guy comes in, seemingly tired and sleepy, but his face perks up when he sees me. He greets me and, upon seeing my confused smiling face, introduces himself as Nate from my accounting course. That sparks absolutely nothing in my memory, seeing as I don't care enough about my university life to remember the faces of people in my classes.
Nate is tall with a toned body and well-kept hair. He chatters for a bit, trying to talk about a group project.
“Yeah, it’s tricky,” I say, politely but concisely, not leaving much room for elaboration. He orders after he runs himself dry of topics to chat about, and leaves as weirdly as he came. "Nice kid," I think to myself.
By noon, it’s quieter, and I’m wiping down the counter with a damp rag. Carla hands me a coffee on my break. We both enjoy it black with no sugar. I sit by the shop window, watching the street as Carla drones on about her life, her husband, and her son. A guy’s selling bootleg DVDs across the way, his loud voice choking when he sees a cop who turns out not to give a shit.
I wonder if Ernie's shady business is as dumb as this one, if all his boiling anger is the result of incorrect CD labels. Most probably not, but I don't know enough about illegal businesses to tell for sure. I open my now-charged phone to read some news before my break ends. There are no texts from Ernie, or anyone for that matter, but that's normal. I sip the last of my coffee, and any thought on the subject fizzles out before I return to my shift.
The rest of my shift is slow. Refilling sugar packets, cleaning the milk steamer, ignoring the laughter and cheers from Carla and the new kid when he finally figures out the espresso machine. I clock out at 2:00 p.m., stuffing the twelve bucks of tips into my pocket.
I stop for a quick lunch on my way to university, courtesy of my tip money. It’s enough for a Philly cheesesteak, which I devour in minutes.
I catch a bus to campus, a twenty-minute ride through streets lined with check-cashing joints and barred-up stores. It's a never-ending sea of humans out there, and I swim across it, a drop among the masses.
The university’s old buildings are draped in ivy, and the lecture halls smell of chalk and mold. My stats class is in a hot room, the professor scribbling equations while I take notes. I make sure not to write anything that's already included in the studying material and to focus on listening to him when I can. I can see Nate sitting in the front row along with some other students. He seems just as chatty as he was at the coffee shop. A girl next to me chews gum loudly, and I focus harder on my notebook to block her out.
Class ends after what feels like days but is only two hours, and I head home. Back there, I make some chicken soup with stuff I bought on the way. The portion is small so it can be gone before it spoils in my fridge. I eat at the kitchen counter, setting the phone across from me as I watch the news on it. The small fridge rattles as I open it to place the leftover food, and I'm reminded how much I need to fix it, but the discomfort it's causing hasn't exceeded the effort needed to fix it yet, so I don't.
I could study some more at home, but my skin’s itching from the heat, so I decided to go for a night walk before showering and turning in for the day. I put on my running t-shirt and shorts and head out.
The city is sharper at night, all orange lights and deep shadows. The air isn't stagnant but blowing softly despite the heat and carrying the smell of exhaust and fried food. I walk through the neighborhood, past shuttered shops and walls scrawled with tags. The streets feel alive in a way that's different than the day's hustle and bustle, and some of that feeling seeps into me too. Kids shouting, a radio blasting, a group of guys smoking next to a crepe stand.
I end up at a park. It's the same one where I met Ernie ages ago. It’s darker now, the benches empty, streetlights buzzing like they’re tired as they cast just enough light as to not plunge the area into darkness. I sit on a bench whose wood splinters under my hands, and light one of Ernie’s cigarettes. He left the pack at my place, and it only had two cigarettes remaining.
The first drag causes me to cough, my throat is not used to this. The smoke is harsh, burning its way as it goes down and comes back up, but I exhale slowly, watching it fade into the dark night.
I think about him. His rough hands, his loud voice, the way he looks at everything like he wants to beat it all into the ground. It’s not love I feel, that's for sure. Not when I still don't understand most of what goes on in his brain.
It was a sweltering summer midnight when we met, just like this one. The park is still the same, a patchwork of shadows, broken benches, and grass littered with bottle caps. Streetlights buzzed like dying flies, and the air was thick with dust. I sat on a bench, also like this one, sucking on a cherry popsicle that melted faster than I could eat, red juice dripping onto my fingers. I think Ernie was there first. I don't remember precisely. He was sprawled at the other end of the bench, elbows on the backrest, texting with one hand, cigarette hanging from his mouth. His running suit was open, and his wifebeater was damp across his hairy chest with black plastic slippers dangling from his feet. He looked ridiculous to me when I first saw him.
He was muttering in a low but pissed tone, until his phone buzzed, and he cursed, “Fuck!” spitting out his cigarette and crushing it under his heel with excessive force. I must’ve looked too long, because he glared at me.
"You got a fuckin' problem???” he snapped, his whole body ready to move at the slightest trigger.
I blinked, popsicle halfway to my mouth.
"No, you just startled me,” I said calmly. He scared me, but I remember thinking that he didn't seem that dangerous.
He squinted, anger fading a bit. “Yeah, well, go stuff you mouth somewhere else if you're this big of a pussy.”
“Thanks for the warning," I replied sincerely as I licked some of the drip off my hand.
He snorted, then leaned back and lit another cigarette.
“The fuck's a kid like you doing here at this hour?” he questioned me with minimum interest, typing away at his phone.
"I'm 26," I corrected him, used to this happening.
"Fuckin' hell!" His eyes snapped back to me, and I couldn't discern his look in the dark.
"Yeah, I get that a lot," I said, matter-of-fact, as he sized me up while I finished my popsicle.
“Still, the fuck’re you doin’ here?” he said, going back to his phone.
“Just walking around,” I replied, throwing my popsicle stick into the grass.
“Huh,” he said in his lowest volume yet, already preoccupied with his phone,
We sat in silence for a while, with nothing but the tap tap tap of his phone to cut through the hum of the night. I ended up staring at him despite the obvious warning signs. Something about him seemed so captivating at the time. Eventually, my eyes zeroed in on his crotch, and he didn’t miss that. It was one of those moments where both parties understood the other instinctively.
Ernie slamed his phone shut with a sharp sound, and fished out his cock. The move was so casual I almost did not register it, but his thick cock made sure I did. It hung heavy and half-hard, a beast in the dim streetlight. I couldn’t see much, but I could tell its veins were pulsing and the head was glistening with precum or piss. He didn’t move, just leaned back and spread his legs. His glare was a challenge to me.
That shameless display with his cock swinging freely was a fucking magnet, pulling every nerve in my body taut. His cock was alive and throbbing, a heat that made my skin burn. My hunger rose up, and so did my body, drawn to him like gravity. I stepped closer with my heart pounding and the dirt crunching under my sneakers. Ernie’s eyes never left mine, his glare a mix of daring and want. And so I dropped to my knees between his thighs, the dirt ground rough against my knees, and with my shaky hands I gripped his intoxicating cock. Up close, the musk was much stronger, and I inhaled deeply as I nestled my head at the base of his cock, letting his smell dampen my inhibitions.
I leaned in, breath hitching, and took him in my mouth. His head was hot and salty, stretching my lips wide as they engulfed the sticky tip. A low growl rumbled from his chest, and his hand fisted my hair, not guiding but pushing. It’s fucking exhilarating, the taste of him flooding my senses, his cock pulsing as I suck, rewarding me with tasty drops of precum.
I went slow at first, then took him deeper, my throat opening for him. The city’s hum faded away, and its place was the wet sounds of my mouth, his rough breaths, and the creak of the bench. I was lost in it, my dick straining painfully against my tight shorts, throbbing with every bob of my head.
“Fuck, yeah,” he grunted with a raw voice, his hips shifting and pushing deeper, testing me. I took it, gagging but greedy, my hands on his thick thighs. The heat was overwhelming and his cock was a live wire. In that moment, I felt wildly alive, more alive than I had in ages. This was reckless, and he was dangerous, but it just made the whole thing hotter. He gripped my hair tightly and thrusted harder. His groans were louder, primal.
“Fuckin’ hell!” he yelled, and I braced myself. I sucked harder, tongue swirling, doing my best to get my cum reward from him.
He came hard. It was hot and thick and without much taste, but it flooded my mouth to the brim. I held it for a second, savoring the feeling of having my mouth full of cock and cum, then I swallowed. It was heavy as it went down my throat and deep into my stomach.
I pulled off, gasping with cum dripping down my chin, my heart racing, and the exhilaration still buzzing through my entire body. Ernie leans back, panting, his now shiny cock softening in my hands. His eyes were softer then, unable to maintain his raw anger right after losing his nut to me. I gave his soft cock one last kiss on the head while looking him in the eye before standing up and wiping my mouth with my arm. He felt much mellower, but still scary, his eyes never leaving mine.
“That was good,” was all he said before he tucked his cock back into his pants and got up and left.
...............................................................
It took two weeks for us to learn each other's names.
That day, he appeared a bit more listless than usual.
"Is your place close?" He asked.
"Two blocks away," I said, panting. I had gone out for an evening run and decided to pass by our usual spot while I was at it. "Why?" was my first thought, but it didn't take a genius to figure out his intentions.
Our meetings were up to chance ever since that first day. Some days, he didn't show up, and others, I didn't pass by to begin with. But when we met, we'd end up chatting for a bit. Him bitching about things I had no way of knowing, me making comments on trivial things like the food I made that day ory university schedule. Either way, it always ended up with me slobbering all over his cock.
But blowjobs alone could only satiate you so much, and we were both growing hungry. It took minutes to get to my place, and even less for him to deposit a load in my ass. It went surprisingly gentler than I expected. He worked his fingers in my asshole just enough for his dick to pummel through comfortably for both of us. He even stroked me passionately as he fucked, an unexpected caring display.
After, he hung around for a bit more, sitting naked at my bedside and texting on his phone while I lay next to him, naked and satisfied. He used an empty water bottle as an ashtray for his cigarettes, a courtesy I didn't think he'd extend.
"You got a number?" He asked out of the blue.
I gave it to him along with my name without much thought, a decision my future self would consider dumb, even if I were in post orgasm bliss. He then asked for my phone and punched in his number. Handing it back to me, I saw the contact name 'ERNIE' displayed in all caps.
Going forward, we ditched the park as our meetings became much more intimate. He was a surprisingly affectionate fucker. He always made sure I finished, and even blew me on some occasions. Not only that, but I also found out he liked being sensual. It made me assume he just didn't like PDA, but indoors, he was very much into kissing and making out, and holding me close to him when we slept sometimes.
Ernie was never one for spilling his heart, locking his thoughts tight behind that volatile glare, but I see the care in him. It’s in the way he holds me close after we fuck, his hairy chest pressed to my back, or how he kisses me deep and slow when no one’s watching, or when he insists I fix my fridge even though that beer pack of his has been sitting untouched for months now.
When my building was getting fumigated, we started doing it at his place as well. It didn't seem like anyone besides us had set foot there in ages.
They were tiny steps in a long journey. But they moved us closer all the same.
And so, the trip down memory lane ends when the cigarette in my hand reaches its end as well. I flick it to the side before crushing it with my sneakers.
Arriving back home, I don't bother turning on the lights in my apartment except for the bathroom, where I take a quick shower. I dry myself, put on my boxer shorts, and then climb into bed. A book I have on my nightstand keeps me company until my eyes droop.
The day has been great. It was simple and easy-going, and I couldn’t ask for more. The empty bed makes me think of Ernie, and my cock stirs in its thin confinement, but I know better than to dwell on that idea. The thought of pleasuring myself before falling asleep crosses my mind, but I decide against it. Let it build, and it’ll fuck me up good later.
...............................................................
The sky’s a deep, bloodied purple as I sit on my balcony, a cramped space just big enough for a folding chair and a crate I call a table. It’s been three days since I last saw Ernie. Three days that roll by in the same old comforting routine. My apartment looks out over the neighborhood, which is quiet on a Thursday night. The air’s thick with the smell of car exhaust and greasy takeout, and the city is as noisy as ever. I flip through a tattered sociology textbook without reading much. Ernie’s wifebeater hangs loose over my body. It’s another hot and humid day, so I decided to wear it along with a pair of shorts.
A horn blasts through the idle sundown, its voice jarring and repulsive. It comes from right in front of the building. I lean over the railing and spot him. Ernie, astride a beat-up dirt motorcycle with a scarred and dusty black frame. His blue running suit is disheveled, the stained white wifebeater peaking from underneath. He jerks his head, a sharp “Come down”.
I toss the book aside, grab my keys, and head down as I am, sneakers smacking the worn stairs. The hallway is dim in the after-hours of the day, and the front door groans as I shove it open. Ernie waits right outside, one foot braced on the pavement, engine idling low. As I walk up to him, I notice he has a bruise on his jaw and his knuckles are scraped and bloody. He also has a cigarette in hand, lit in the time it took me to come down.
“Welcome back,” I say as I stand next to him.
He exhales smoke before replying, “Get on.”
Ernie isn’t a stranger to injuries, and those look tame by my experience, so I give him a quick “ok” and climb behind. My arms loop around his thick waist, and I press myself to his back. His body’s warm and solid, and the smell of sweat and smoke is sharp but comforting. A passerby could mistake us for a normal romantic couple with the way I cling to Ernie like newlyweds, but then he revs the engine, and the reason for my clinginess becomes apparent. My grip grows tighter as he tears into the street, driving like he’s got a death wish. He weaves through cars, tires screeching, and blows past red lights like they’re suggestions. My heart hammers in my chest, and my fingers dig into his sides, the crazy ride being all too familiar for me. He laughs when he feels me holding onto him for dear life. I put my cheek on his shoulder and watch the passing scenery become a smear of neon signs, streetlights, and incomprehensible faces.
We pull up to his place. He kills the engine and kicks down the sidestand, grabs a small taped-up package from the bike’s compartment, and heads inside the tall building. I follow, keeping quiet about the package. His apartment is on the roof, and it’s much more classy than my dump. Polished wood floors, heavy furniture carved with old patterns, framed photos everywhere. My theory is that it’s his family’s house. As for why it’s empty, I have no clue. The dust is quite thick in areas other than the main spots where he spends his time, so I’m forced to conclude no one has lived here in quite some time, including Ernie. From what I saw, he mainly uses it as a pit stop, or a hook-up spot, in our case.
Once we’re inside, he shoves the package he brought into a kitchen drawer, then turns. Our eyes lock, and I know that look very well.
The bedroom’s big, and at its center is the king bed. Its dark brown sheets are neatly made, a courtesy of me during my last visit. The windows are open, allowing a bit of the nightly breeze to blow through and make the curtains flutter. Ernie practically fights himself as he takes off his clothes, his hairy body slick with sweat and seemingly a bit of blood. I strip too, my shorts and his wifebeater hitting the floor as well.
We don’t speak, and he’s immediately on me. His hands grab my face, rough and greedy, and we kiss. I feel his tongue wrestle my mouth open. He’s so horned up he doesn’t let me reciprocate properly, his tongue trying to cover every inch of my mouth and forcing my own tongue under him. I taste him, a mixture of hot saliva and warm blood complemented by the smell of cigarettes. His beard scratches my skin, and I moan into him, hands clutching his shoulders, pulling him closer.
“Fuck,” he growls, pulling back. I don't need to see his erection to feel it poking me between the legs. He shoves me onto the bed, and the mattress groans under my back, then he climbs over me, his weight heavy. His mouth’s on my neck, biting sharply and a bit too forcefully, probably leaving a mark. I gasp and arch up, my cock hard and pressing against his thigh. He moves down, leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses on his way. His mouth latches on to my nipples, sucking and biting, and I start moaning loudly as electricity courses through me while he teases them. It's like a bundle of nerve is connected from them directly to my cock which starts spewin out drops of precum all over my stomach.
He moves on, slipping from my arms that were pulling him in deeper, and goes all the way down, licking the precum off my stomach and giving my hard-on a few hearty licks. And then he’s between my legs, his hands prying my thighs apart and exposing my hole.
My whole body is prickly, and every spot is hypersensitive, and his tongue hits my opening. It's wet and searing. I let out a loud, euphoric sigh as he laps at it slowly, his tongue dragging around and over my hole.
“Fucking hell, Ernie,” I gasp and jerk my hips as he eats my ass. I can feel his beard roughly scratching my cheeks as he digs in further, his face buried in my cheek, tongue plunging deeply and relentlessly. He’s so into it, the sounds are loud and noisy, making it feel more obscene. My cock leaks further, and precum pools on my stomach. My asshole keeps clenching and releasing as he prods it repeatedly, fighting my entrance ring.
"Keep going, fuck, don’t stop,” my voice cracks and he seems to like my slutty moaning as he dives in with renewed vigor to make out with my hole.
The pleasure sends me higher, my mind melting as I feel his hot breath and wet tongue. But I want more. I want to release all this pleasure back. I want to set us both on fire.
I push up, my hands on his hairy chest, shoving him back. He’s caught off guard, and his eyes widen while mouth wet from all the rimming.
“My turn,” I say, my voice higher than usual.
I lie in front of him as he lies back. His cock’s a monster. It's thick and jutting from his thick pubes at full length, precum beading at the tip. I grab it gently at first, stroking slowly, feeling it pulse, hot and heavy in my palm. Ernie’s face contorts, a low groan ripping from his throat as I lean in and flick the head with my tongue. I’ve never thought of myself as a talented cocksucker. I'm too messy and eager, but the way Ernie’s eyes roll back whenever I go down on him tells me he's pretty satisfied, and I like that.
"Fuck, Auggie,” he grunts when I engulf the pink head in my mouth, sucking it softly and swirling my tongue around it, savoring the taste of salt and musk that fills my senses.
'Auggie. ' I admit, I didn't like that nickname at first. It felt like he still thought of me as a kid from our first meeting. But I've grown used to it. It was a facet of his affection, so it became endearing enough.
But there's no time to reminisce. After I nurse softly on his cock head, I start taking him deep. My lips stretch around his girth as his cock makes its way inside my throat. It hits the back of my mouth, making me gag, but I don’t stop. Whatever I lack in skill, I make up for with enthusiasm, so the moment I get used to his size, I start dragging my lips back across his shaft before swallowing him whole again. My tongue continues swirling, sloppy and wet with spit dripping down my chin as he groans loudly, filling the room.
I sneak a peek at his face while I stuff my face as much as possible. It's a mask of pleasure. His brows are knit, and his mouth is open, panting like he’s running a marathon.
"Goddamn,” the word spills out from his mouth as he guides my head, setting the pace so he can fuck my face nice and slow. I’m moaning around him while my cock stands so hard it hurts, the tip rubbing against the bed and smearing it as I rock back and forth, desperatefor Ernie's load.
But Ernie’s got other plans. He yanks me off all of a sudden and shoves me back onto the bed. The mattress squeaks under my weight, and I look up at him with heated eyes, my lips and chin wet from working his cock.
“Not yet,” he snarls, eyes blazing.
I’m panting, frustrated, wanting his cum, so I go with his flow immediately. He lays me on my back and lays on his side next to me.
"Lift your legs," he orders urgently, and I do as he says, exposing my hole, which is still wet from his tongue.
"Look at that,” he says with a low voice as his finger circles the edges of my hole, making me pucker up involuntarily. My hole kisses the air repeatedly at his annoyingly teasing moves, its lips desperate for him in any shape or form.
I buck my hips as my face contorts from the denied penetration. Taking it as a sign, he finally pushed into me, his fingers forcing their way past my opening ring.
“So fuckin’ tight,” he mutters, adding another finger and scissoring me open, his other hand propping him up.
"Fuck, please, please more,” the words leave my mouth weak and needy, just like me. He smiles maniacally.
"Whose hole is this?" He stops moving his fingers when he asks me. The stillness is too much for my hungry hole and I gyrate my ass down on his fingers while I yell out.
"Yours, yours!!" I moan harder.
"Yes, mine, and mine alone," he says in an assured tone before adding, "good boy."
His fingers, now three, curl inside me, making me spew even more precum as my hard cock shakes with Ernie's movement. He works me thoroughly, his fingers relentless, until I’m loose and ready, begging for his cock.
He pulls his fingers out, and I barely relax my legs onto the bed before he stuffs his fingers inside my mouth. The surprise gags me a bit, but I let go and open up, accepting his fingers as they stretch my lips. I suck heartily, tasting my own ass and his spit. It's intoxicating.
Right after, he removes his fingers and licks them himself, sucking up any leftover fluids before kissing me again, sharing the taste with me once more.
It's hot and messy and filthy, but it's what I want, a constant hunger that can only be satisfied by him. He pulls back before hooking his hand under one of my legs and pulling it up so that I'm on my side, ready and primed to be fucked. He presses closer, and his face buries itself in my neck, licking and kissing and biting. I call his name achingly as he positions his dick at my hole, the strong mushroom head kissing the opening.
"I'm gonna fuck your brains out," he cooes in my ear and my head rolls back against him as his cock head pushed inside. My hole is wide open as he spreads me open sideways, his cock spearing its way into my rectum. He burrows in, slow but firm at first, and the invasion shoots sparks through my spine to all over my body.
“Fuck!” I scream, nails digging into his arms as my cries grow stronger and heavier. The burn from the way his cock rubs my insides morphs into pleasure as he bottoms out. His balls slap my ass, and I can feel his pubes brush up agaisnt it as well. He turns my head towards him with one hand, leaving his body against mine, and his eyes lock on mine for a second before he devours my mouth with his.
He starts thrusting, picking up speed with each stroke and rocking the bed, the frame creaking like it’s gonna break.
"That's it, take it!" he grunts, smacking my ass with full force, “fuckin’ mine.”
I can feel his handprint bloom on my cheek as the heat from his hit spreads, and I’m a mess, moaning loudly as my body is set on fire by his moves. My hips meet his thrusts, my whole body trying to ride up kn him in desperation to get as much of him inside me as possible, and his cock slams my prostate, making sparks explods in my eyes.
He lays into me, fucking me wildly, like we might die at any moment and he needs to have as much pleasure as possible before it all ends. His rhythm is erratic but insanely fast, his cock retreating carefully so that his head stays inside, held tightly my hole, before it plunges in deep, until nothing but his balls remain outside. We stay like this for a while with him trying to fuck harder with each thrust and me yelling louder each time he probes deeper.
After a while, he shifts, flipping me over him with my back to his chest. I instinctively grab under my knees and raise my legs, spreading my hole as much as humanly possible. He starts fucking again, this time in a full nelson. His hips rise up, harder now as if compensating for the few seconds he wasted flipping me over. The new angle hits deeper, better, making me gasp as it rubs my prostate raw.
“OH, SHIT!” I yell at the top of my lungs, my whole body alive with pleasure and electricity. He’s in a blind primal rut, fucking me like an animal, his hand wrapping around my cock, stroking roughly as his calluses scrap me.
He emits a deep, incomprehensible growl, his voice thick and heavy. I’m close, the pressure building as his hand on my cock goes faster, his thrusts driving me wild.
“FUUUUUCKKKKKK,” He yells, his voice booming in my ears, and I follow as we cum together.
My load sprays all over me like a wild hose, the cum hitting me square in the face before reaching my chest and stomach as it shoots in big wide arcs, the hardest I can possibly cum thanks to Ernie's deep fucking. It's thick and hot on my lips and tongue, but it's nothing compared to his flooding my ass, painting my walls with his seed and planting as deeply as possible into me. My hole clenches as if holding on for dear life, milking him of every precious drop of cum, and he keeps thrusting, drawing it out, cum leaking everywhere as he slows. We collapse onto the bed exhausted, like we just ran a marathon and we're trying to catcg our breath, his weight heavy beside me, the sheets soaked with sweat and cum.
I move weakly and draw my face closer to his. My orgasm is still tingling all over my body as I kiss him deeply, the cum on my face binding us togeth. He kisses back, sucking and licking passionately.
His heartbeat is so loud I can feel it with my hand on his hairy chest. His arm pulls me closer, and I find myself laying on him again. The room is filled with our labored breathing as we settle down. We lay there, between wake and sleep, my body buzzing, his burning under me. The city's noises reach us through the window from way down below, from what might as well be a different planet.
“You doin' well?” he asks in a hoarse voice. His hand finds my head and starts playing with my hair.
“Yeah,” I say, amongst breathless chuckles at the belated inquiry. His affectionate side always comes up after he has spent all his energy, usually inside me. It's hard to draw it out normally, but it keeps coming back when we end up like this. I momentarily wonder if he's asking about right now or the past couple of days, but I don't have the energy to ask.
The night rolls on, and the darkness fills the room as we lay against each other between sleep and consciousness. His chest rises and falls with my head on top of it, lulling me to sleep.
Around 1:00 a.m., I get up to piss, the bathroom floor cold under my feet. When I come back, Ernie’s on the balcony, a wide space with low railing.
I don’t call out to him. Instead, I put on my boxer shorts, go into the old kitchen, and grab a moka pot that's more an heirloom than a proper appliance. I brew the coffee in no time with the sound of the stove as my only entertainment, and the smell fills the kitchen as I assemble the pot and a cup for each of us on a tray. Outside, I set the tray on the antique round table between two chairs.
Ernie leans over the railing, wearing nothing but his white briefs. He has one hand over his mouth holding a lit cigarette, while the other types furiously on his phone with a terrifying speed. The city sprawls below us, lights pulsing like a heartbeat, accompanied by the occasional distant horn of a speeding car. The breeze is cool and playful, easing the humidity, and the glow of the faraway buildings substitutes that of the stars.
I pour us both a cup of coffee as its steam rises, and sit down, sipping the fresh bitterness. Ernie takes his cup, still texting, and nods at me as thanks. He takes a sip without moving his eyes off his screen.
Ignoring the view, I gaze at him. His bruise looks worse up close, and his knuckles don't seem to have stopped bleeding.
“Need a doc for that?” I ask with a flat tone.
His eyes flare up while still locked on his phone.
"Mind your fuckin' business." He grumbles.
I shrug. His temper is old news. It's like the weather, unpredictable, goes down as fast as it comes up.
I lean back, enjoying the breeze and the warm coffee, and feel a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth. My life’s nothing big. It's filled with quiet, uneventful days and boring mundanity, just like my name. Ernie’s presence in it should, by all accounts, upset me, but it ends up balancing out my stale, dry parts. He's a dangerous fire, but a fire nonetheless, and the warmth he gives me is second to none. It’s not grand or supreme like my name, but this relationship is mine, and right now, with him here, it’s enough.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading this far. Hopefully you enjoyed the ride. Raw Deal has two more chapters planned. If you'd like to see this story continue, please let me know via Email or Bluesky (both found on my profile). Your feedback would be highly beneficial, so thanks in advance!
