The Alley

Bobby was a marine, and from time to time, he and his buddies would visit a neighbouring city to get their rocks off. All his buddies knew that he was gay, and as the toughest of the bunch, had no opinions about his sexual predilection. In fact, not only did they embrace him wholeheartedly, but would often join him at the gay bars on the weekend out, before sauntering off in search of pussy. The area, which they favoured, was riddled with clubs, both straight and gay, so scoring was never a problem. It always amused Bobby to see what a kick the hetero boys would get from the salivating queens, who drooled over them at these places. 

They all made use of an affordable motel, where morals were not of paramount importance. The rooms were neat, tidy, and clean, and the management turned a blind eye to the machinations of the military heroes that they felt assured their safety.

On one weekend pass consisting of a Saturday evening, a group of buddies made their way to Patsy’s Motel, or as they preferred to call it, Pussy’s Motel in the neighbouring city. With balls laden with cum, their seed had to get spilled. As usual, a few of his buddies joined him at the gay bar before making their way off to seek the beavers that so intrigued them. After a couple of beers, Bobby always joked with these guys that they had better be on their way before their judgment got clouded. In preceding months, a few of his mates had spent a little too much time in the toilets, allegedly with upset stomachs. Yeah, right!

Alone, at last, Bobby was able to focus on the talent at hand. There was a stocky guy with a bulge in his jeans that immediately garnered his attention. The stocky stud was packing, and Bobby could feel his saliva glands beginning to work overtime.

‘That’s a cock that needs a gob-job,’ Bobby ruminated, as he approached. Stocky’s name was Chuck. ‘Fuck yeah,’ Bobby thought after introductions, ‘that works for me.’

“Come here often, Chuck?” Bobby asked.

“Sure, as long as I get to see pretty mouths like yours, I’ll keep coming,” came Chuck’s reply.

With their eyes locked in a horny embrace, both guys lifted their beers and took another gulp.

“Why don’t we make our way out back in the alley and relieve some tension,” Bobby suggested.

“Hope your mouth can do a man’s work,” Chuck replied, with a shitfaced grin.

“Bring it on,” Bobby replied, challengingly.

As they entered the alley at the back, there was a melee of sorts a short way off. Both guys were afraid that a gay-bashing could be underway, but as they approached, a naked guy was lying on his back gyrating as he got a piss cleansing of note. The slut was working overtime to imbibe as much of the golden nectar that his mouth would allow. Happy that the ensemble was a contented one, Bobby pushed Chuck against the wall before their hands got to work on one another’s dicks.

Bobby was delighted when a thick knob flopped out of Chuck’s trousers. He had been hoping for this eventuality. Unfortunately, as Bobby got to work orally, Chuck thrust his head backward, almost concussing himself on the wall behind him. As Chuck’s body slumped, Bobby got overcome with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked repeatedly.

Finally, Chuck came around and said that he was fine. To their mutual relief, Chuck and Bobby then observed that the slut next to them was on all fours, being fucked from either end. Happily, Bobby once more turned to his oral duties as Chuck lay on the ground. When Chuck finally began to grunt with lust, a voice from above began instructing Bobby to suck Chuck dry. Too busy to concern himself with the unnecessary distraction, Bobby rambled onward, before draining Chuck of all his spunk.

Once the two of them got to their feet, Chuck politely made off with a cursory thank you and a slightly sore head. Bobby now turned his attention to the large frame standing next to him. Buster, as he would come to know, was a ‘poser.’ A pumped-up gym bunny that couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper packet, and Bobby instinctively knew that he could snap him like a twig.

“I want to fuck you,” Buster pronounced.

“Nah, don’t work like that,” Bobby replied. “The guy with the biggest cock gets to do the fucking,” Bobby concluded.

There was a slightly confused look on Buster’s face at this declaration. “It’s called the litmus test. We haul out our dicks and then decide who the bitch will be,” Bobby concluded.

More uncertainty adorned Buster’s face. “Let’s do it, boy,” Bobby announced, with bravado.

As their knobs got exposed, Buster let out a huge sigh when he saw the enormous ten-inch uncut dick that Bobby was packing.

“Now we’re going back to my motel, and tonight you’ll be my bitch,” Bobby said with a growl.

Although Buster wasn’t the best looking guy in the world, his massive gym-toned body was magnificent. Interestingly, Buster’s former bolshie demeanour softened into one of obedience, and like a puppy, he followed Bobby to the front of the bar before they hailed a taxi.

Once they got to the motel room, Buster asked for a beer. “No! No beer, because it’s fucking time, bro,” Bobby quickly admonished him, “Take your fucking clothes off and get on your stomach, bitch.”

Compliant, Buster did as told. As Bobby looked at Buster’s magnificent body and the incredible bubble butt that awaited him on the bed, his mouth watered.

‘Oh yes,’ he thought, ‘tonight I am going to become a rodeo champ.’

After climbing onto the bed, he pushed Buster’s legs apart. Next, he placed his colossal knob between Buster’s cheeks, and after dribbling copious amounts of spit, began to slide his cock back and forth.

“This motel caters for fucking,” Bobby advised, “So you can make as much noise as you like. I like a noisy bitch,” he concluded.

Following on that, Bobby let his dick slide between the fleshy mounds in search of the pink passageway that he was about to conquer. Once lodged in the cleft, Bobby waited a few seconds before forcefully vanquishing Buster’s inner sanctum. To Bobby’s total delight, the bitch began to yelp as his pucker got wrenched asunder. Bobby let Buster squeal for several seconds before stating, “Now you now know your place, bitch… who’s your fucking daddy?”

“You are… oh fuck, you are,” Buster replied, before his voice tapered off, only to be replaced by low contented groans.

“Keep your arse tight, I hate fucking loose pussy,” Bobby barked, as he administered hefty slaps to Buster’s bubble butt. 

When it came to fucking, Bobby was a master. Slow, fast, hard, soft, but above all, always in total control. Buster had never been so comprehensively fucked in his life. Throughout, Bobby kept up his pain and pleasure regimen, as he stroked, smacked, caressed, and plowed his fuck-bunny. By the time Bobby came, the mound of beautiful flesh beneath him was quivering with complete delight.

Another three sessions followed. One of these consisted of a facial attack on Buster’s mouth. Poor Buster took enormous strain with this, given Bobby’s knob size. For his efforts, Buster’s face received a good slapping because of tooth marks on Bobby’s dick. Buster, nevertheless, loved the discipline.

At two a.m., Buster finally took a taxi back to his home. After he left, Bobby lay on his bed with a shitfaced grin, reflecting upon the fact that it had been a great evening. That alley always brought a smile to his face, and he knew he would be back.