There was a certain appeal to being a young, American with eyes a mile wide in Sydney. I had found myself in a space that respected me because people ignored me, not because I had to assert myself in every space like was customary back home. The wind funneled between glass façades and blew the perfumes of women in pant suits against my dry eyes. I hadn’t particularly made any destination of my wandering, but I usually meandered through shops and down alleyways until I finally ended up on the harbour by the time the winter sun had just sunk below the horizon. By seven, evening rush had given way to the evening shoppers and bar hoppers, and I so far had been no different than them. I tucked my body through doorways of varying grandeur and into bars that crowned the rooftops of old buildings or hid in their stolen basements.
None of these, however, were as enchanting as the Caterpillar Club. I found it hidden nearby banks with an exterior adorned in nothing more than a red velvet rope and two men with a particular roundness to their massive frames. Throngs scattered across the square in short, black skirts, long warm fur coats, or t-shirts with bright oil stains dotting them. I walked alone usually, as that’s what I preferred. I made a few friends at bars and beaches, but they would have such different schedules from mine that I couldn’t ever catch them when they were all free. I knew my spot at the Caterpillar Club. It was nothing more than a long bar dressed in exuberant wood panelling, old style carpet, and candle-lit tables that even my eyes had to adjust to away from the light pollution that encased Sydney.
The club was dark and bustling with diverse characters. Plenty of cowboy hats lined the bar, however most clearly had come from work in the towers. I sat at a small, circular wooden table with a chair that fought against the natural curves of my muscular body and groaned as it shifted into the plush carpet. I wasn’t small. Five-eleven in my typical trainers and everything of 190 pounds from being a college athlete. But I had left those summer workouts behind with the consistency of my American lifestyle for the mild Australian winters that I much preferred to frying myself getting to class in Tempe. There’s a train stop with that name here, too.
I liked to sit and watch through the darkness at the groups in the tight corner that somehow got the privilege of being a dancefloor. Bodies circled one another, and others just stood and swayed while slobbering into each other’s mouths. Australians really like tongue, and I still haven’t met one who might be considered a good kisser by U.S. standards. It’s almost invasive, like their goal is to touch your uvula and clean your teeth rather than test the softness of your lips. They’re good enough at fucking, though, so I never mind.
Anyway, I sat for a good bit on my phone to look busy before the bar was empty enough for me to feel comfortable ordering. Sometimes it was hard to understand the bartenders, but I managed to get whatever they had on draught that I could safely pronounce. That typically meant a Sapporo, or shitty overpriced bottle of Corona. I learned quickly that I liked Australian ciders a lot. When I sat at the bar, I looked down the bar and folded my arms on the cold concrete until one of the many bartenders acknowledged me. I ended up with a schooner of Sapporo between my sweaty hands and nursed it slowly before returning to my table. Not too long after, a ranga with tufts of hair falling from the brim of his cowboy hat approached my table and sat, splaying generously and tipping the brim towards me.
“How you going?” he leaned.
“Good. You?”
“Good now.” He gave a half-smile that made his eyes squint unevenly and slanted his moustache. “Mind if I sit?”
“You’re already sat,” I joked.
“American?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “Which state?”
“Arizona.”
“Arizona, huh?” The man removed his hat and set it brim down on the table. “There’s plenty of blokes like me there, then.”
“Just missing the accent,” I smiled and sipped generously from my beer. “Too hot for too many ranches, but up around Flagstaff there’s plenty. You ever been?”
“Haven’t,” the ranga said while his fingers tugged through the calm curls of his thick hair. It stuck up in tufts like it hadn’t seen a comb in a few days, but it fell well across his square face. “Barely eva been out of Australia.”
“Are you from Sydney?”
“Nah. I spend most my time in Queensland on my station. You been up that way yet?”
“I’ve been wanting to go.”
I’d heard enough about Queensland for it to have its appeal. Mostly from older men in pubs across Sydney railing against Queensland and Victoria for being less than New South Wales, to travel bloggers I followed for itineraries when I thought I’d be travelling more than I actually have. This dusty man across from me made me more inclined to get out of Sydney. I was ready to be somewhere that reminded me more of the United States because of its country culture and sprawling landscapes similar to east Arizona and West Texas.
“I thought you were Aussie at first. Look like a man who’d be surfing or on a farm in Queensland like me.”
I laughed softly at that. “So I’ve been told.”
“It’s the moustache and mullet. Very Australian.”
“Very American, too,” I correct.
His grin shifted back to a flat expression. “Fairs,” he said, lifting his beer back to his lips. He took a slow, considerate swig and set the beer back down on the ground and let it rest between his thick fingers.
“What brings you to Sydney, anyway?”
He scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “Selling some horses at a conference. Have some old mates south of here so I figured I’d get down to ‘em, too.”
“So you’re serious about the cowboy shit.”
He huffed a laugh through his nose that made his strong chest pulse. “Yeah, mate. Not just a costume. Some of the western bars here are insulting.”
I watched him for a second longer and watched him push his shirt sleeves back up to his elbows to reveal forearms with roadmaps of veins down them. His hands looked like they’d spent some serious time in the dirt, but he held his glass gently.
“I bet you clean up nicely for those conferences.”
His jaw set and just a flicker of disappointment creased the faint lines in his forehead. “Nah. I’m in the dirt there, too.”
I finished the rest of the Sapporo and licked the rim of the glass and sat back more comfortably in my seat, trying to not close myself off completely to him.
“So, you didn’t come out here with anyone?” he asked, shifting his weight to his elbows. The candlelight highlighted the bottom of his rosy cheeks and the freckles on the tip of his nose. His solid sea blue eyes narrower now, peeking through his thick eyelashes.
I shook my head. “Just me.”
He tilted his head, the light bathing his face gently. “Don’t reckon you hit m’ as a lonesome type.”
“Meh.” I laughed under my breath. “Maybe. Maybe I just like a good beer and a dark bar.”
He grinned and lifted his beer in a mock toast, mouthing “cheers,” before taking a slow sip. “Gotta make it the last. City prices at nice bars.”
“I’d get three pints for what I’m paying here.”
He chuckled, warm and low. “Australia ‘n ‘er alcohol taxes.”
“It’s not so bad with piss-shit beer out on the station by a mudhole.”
He takes a deep swig from his beer and finishes it off with a lick of his moustache. His eyes flicked down to the empty glass, back behind him towards the exit, and then back to me. “My hotel’s a few blocks away,” he suggested, eyes having searched through me several times already.
“Trying to ditch this place already?”
“We don’t have to.”
He did look a bit impatient with the way he was looking around me now. “Just reckon we’d be better some place quiet. Up to you.” He stood slowly with his eyes tracing my face and his lips curled into each other.
I didn’t realise how tall this man was, even without the hat barely sitting on his thick head. He fell in line just inches behind me, and the humidity from his breath laminated the hair on the back of my neck to my skin. His hand found the curve in my hip, and his chest beckoned me slowly down the narrow bar corridor and upstairs to the street.
The cold night air curled its fingers up my sleeves and down the small of my back. We said our goodnights to the bouncers, and walked past posters unstapled by the wind’s persistence.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Jack.”
“Luke.”
We walked for a good while and my feed had already been talking to me from all the wandering earlier. We finally turned a corner and escaped the chill up into a tower but a block from the harbour.
“You always pick up Americans in candlelit bars?”
“Woulda thought you’re Aussie if I’dn’t spoken to ya. But I like the men who look like they’d might be able to outdrink me.”
“I might could.”
“Might could,” he teases.
“But I’ve been told I get mouthy.”
“Good,” he muttered, voice just whispering above the groan of the hinge of his room door. “I like a bit of spirit.”
He sat down on his unmade sheets, and I elected for the cuck chair in the corner of the room. Jack slid his back up against the bed and leaned on his elbows, his jeans hardly able to contain his thighs as he worked to spread himself out across the plush duvet.
“Do you like America?”
“How so?”
“I don’t reckon your president’s doing all bad things. He’s just a fuckwit.”
I sighed. “I guess.”
“That a yes or no?”
“I don’t like ‘im,” I admitted. “I love America because I love its nature, and my state, and my university, and its diversity.”
Jack sniffed like he didn’t quite get it. “There’s not much other than sunburnt blokes in Queensland. No Americans outside the casinos unless they’re trying t’ find enlightenment or somethin’.” Jack unfastened his boots and laid them carefully by the bed. He leaned back again with his body facing me. “You keen on sport?”
I shrugged. “Grew up on it. I played baseball through college and I wrestled in high school and now for clubs back home.”
Jack’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “That explains the body.” He smirked, small and shy. “I played footy but now I prefer rugby. Equestrian– whatever, just being on horseback is good, too.”
“Big Aussie man. Reckon you could take me down?”
I leaned forward a little in my chair. “I don’t know man. You’re pretty damn big.”
“I reckon there’s only one way t’ find out.”
I waved him off and eased back into the chair, but he stood and sauntered over me while unbuttoning the top half of his shirt, allowing his full, fuzzy chest to appear.
My pulse kicked as Jack loomed closer. His grin was all mischief and his eyes practically held me hostage against the backrest. “Looks like you just wanted to show off,” I joked, trying to keep things lighter than they already were.
He chuckled, low and rough. “Maybe some of both.” He gave his chest a quick pop and flexed his massive biceps.
“I’ve got nothing on those.”
He just smiled like he knew it, too.
“Come on, Luke. I’d reckon you have some moves from that wrestling mat.”
“Moves, sure. But I’m not dumb enough to take a man whose legs are as thick as my chest.” I don’t think that was an exaggeration by any means. They were fucking insane. I let out a low whistle while my eyes raked over Jack’s thighs straining his jeans like they dared the seams to hold. “You’d crush me before I even got a grip.”
Jack laughed, fuller now and eased back a step while he undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt and slid it down to the floor. He pointed at himself, then to me, that cute, crooked smile painting his eyes unevenly. “You could surprise me.”
The soft light from the lamp behind me carved out the lines of his muscles and polished them until they looked as stone-cut as they were strong. He turned to the minibar and downed two shooters after tossing me one. He watched me intently hoping that the liquor would coat my throat enough to let the words fall freely. The burn lingered in my throat as I watched him knock back two more, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the lamplight. He slammed the empty bottles to the wooden cabinet.
“Come on, Luke,” he said. “You gon’ keep hiding in that chair?”
I watched his body loosen and his eyes glaze over, his words mixing into one another and his breath heavier than before. He walked over to me, his belt buckle jangling as his jeans hit the ground. He shook the tension out of his thighs and showed them off for me while his boxers struggled to contain each muscle. He reached out, fingers brushing the edge of the chair where my arm rested, sending a jolt through my body. He lowered himself down to his knees and leaned over me, his stubbled jaw just inches from mine and pupils wide from the liquor.
His hand moved from the armrest to my wrist, and he pulled me up to my feet while his danced around me impatiently, waiting for me to acknowledge his challenge. I pushed into his chest with my shoulder, staggering my weight forward into his musk. He caught me easily, his hands firm on my hips while I pushed him further over to the minibar.
“There it is,” he murmured. He pushed me back and turned his expectant gaze over to the minibar. He pulled two more shooters and cracked them between his lips, draining them into his mouth and spitting them to the side. He handed me two of my own, and I emptied them into my gullet. I’d already had plenty, but I wasn’t gonna refuse the man in front of me.
He watched me, circling me and taking whatever he could get his paws on. The warmth from the liquor numbed my face, and I realised I hadn’t gotten my lips on any water or food since lunch. It’s like he’d known I wasn’t hydrated by the way he pushed liquor into my mouth, and by the time Jack stopped, my legs were crossing each other and I was using the mattress for stability.
He spent the next half-hour teasing me, putting his hands on me and gauging how long it’d take before I was feeling the brunt. His grin never wavered and I could feel him breaking into me with every finger loosely tracing my body. The haze of the booze began to suffocate me like a dense fog. I couldn’t make out the door of the room, but I damn could see each hair follicle on Jack’s burly chest as he pranced around me.
“You ready to wrestle?” he asked.
I swallowed hard as the room spun around me. “Yeah. You’re done for.”
He stepped closer and took me into his arms, finally locking me against his chest before I could process that we’d begun. His massive arms trapped me and he slung me into the bed. The mattress groaned under our weight while he pinned me under his rugged body. “Thought you were tough,” he smiled.
“I–” my words sounded funny. “Fuck, you’re strong.”
“Giving up already, Arizona?” He taunted me. One of his hands slid down to my wrists to pin it over my head, while his forearm pressed into my neck.
I laughed as he finally eased up, breathless and sharp with drunkenness while my hand found his side to get leverage on him. “Not a chance, mate,” I slurred, throwing his accent back at him.
Jack’s eyes gleamed in the low light, wrinkles plastered across his face from that glittery smile. He hopped off me. “That’s the spirit,” he whispered.
I steadied myself on my feet, but my body was still staggering. I blinked hard to focus my eyes, but they didn’t want to cooperate. The liquor was hitting me hard, but I didn’t want to admit that.
“Not bad for a city boy, I reckon,” he said, crossing his arms, the muscles in his shoulders bunching like coiled rope.
“You ain’t seen nothing,” I said, stepping closer.
I planted a splayed hand on his chest, feeling the solid rhythm of his heartbeat against my smooth palm. I gave him a light shove, just enough to test his balance and provoke the beast. Jack didn’t budge, but his smile floated away as his eyes focused down on mine.
“Careful, Luke,” he muttered, his breath warm against my face. “Keep pushing, ‘n I’ll push back harder.”
“Push harder then, I’d like to see you try.”
“You’re cocky for a bloke who’s half-pissed.”
“Half-pissed? I’m just getting started,” I shot back, reaching for the last of the shooters in the fridge. I drop one, and stumble to pick it up.
“Steady on, Arizona,” he rumbled, Aussie accent thicker now through the alc. He crouched down beside me and lifted the amber liquid to the light. “Reckon you’ve had enough of these?”
I snorted, snatching the bottle from his hand. “Not even close.” I popped them both and guzzled them. I threw the empty bottles at his chest and rolled on the carpet.
“You’re a messy drunk aren’t ya?”
“Messy?” I shook my head as I stood. I jabbed a finger at him, missing his chest entirely and nearly toppling myself. “You’re gonna look messy on the ground.”
Jack’s deep laugh boomed through the room. “Big words for a bloke who can’t even stand straight.”
I grinned, sloppy and defiant while I squared my shoulders. He dug his thumbs into my shoulders and I returned the favour.
“Flat on my back?” he said, teasing as his lips curled up again at the corners. “That’s you, Arizona.”
“Nah, nahhhh.” I pushed my weight into him again. “Come on, big guy. Show me what you got.”
Jack growled and moved faster than a man his size should. One second, I’m standing, the next his arm’s hooked around me and I’m spinning in the air. He fastened my arms around my back and I groaned as he forced me down to my knees, my eyes locked on my reflection in the mirror. He steps over me and locks his massive thighs around my head, squeezing gently at first while his bulge settles into the back of my head.
My reflection in the mirror was a mess of sweatiness and flushed cheeks, my eyes half-lidded and mullet sticking to my neck. Jack’s thighs clamped around my head unforgivingly now, the firmness severing my body at the neck. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might explode from my skull. I grabbed at his thighs, trying to pry them apart as he tightened and pushed me further into his control. I tried to twist free.
“Got you now, Arizona.”
“Fuck you, you bastard,” I slurred. “That your big move? Trapping me like a calf?”
“Calf? Naw, mate. You’re a stubborn bull.” He leaned down a bit, flexing his gorgeously round pecs as he placed his hands on my chin, lifting it up slightly until I had no choice but to meet his massive reflection totally enveloping mine in the window. “Lookie there,” he cooed. “Not so cocky now, are ya, Arizona?”
I laughed, hoarse and breathless. “Fuck you,” I managed to croak.
“That all you got, Luke? Thought you were gon’ put me on the ground?”
“Still… gonna,” I tried. The lack of air and liquor didn’t make my mind clear. My eyes began to gloss, and my vision greyed slowly around the edges while he tightened his calloused hands around my neck.
Jack’s laugh became a distant thunder, his hands sliding around my neck and lacing together. “Done for, boy. Time to sleep.”
I tried to protest, throw one last jab from my trapped arms, but my words dissolved into a sloshed mumble. My head lolled back against him and my muscles sagged as the pressure from his thighs became unbearable. My hands fell limp and my chest stilled as Jack finally put me under.
The world snapped back in a haze, my head throbbing as Jack’s open palm tapped my cheek, the stink sharp enough to pull me from the void. His thighs still caged my face, though looser now, the skin of his muscle were now sweat slicked and pumped.
“One nil,” he said, his drawl particularly thick and laced with smug satisfaction. “Told ya, Arizona, you’re mine.”
I coughed, my throat raw and chest heaving as I sucked in air. My head was a mess and it felt like I was breathing through a pinhead. “Fuck…” I rasped, my voice barely a whisper while I tried to move. He stepped over me and turned face, a trail of sweat visible between his asscheeks on his white briefs.
“Ready for round two?”
“You cheating bastard.” I sat back on my heels.
Jack’s laugh was a low, rolling thunder. “I got you flailing, boy.”
“Gonna put you on your ass this time, cowboy.”
“On my arse, huh?” He leaned over me, his foot pressing my chest down against the carpet. “You can barely sit up, Luke.”
Jack’s muscles were all pumped up and his briefs clung tight against his commanding bulge. His foot slid up my chest until his toes were on my chin, tilting my head back with deliberate command.
“Get your damn foot off of me,” I mustered.
“Move it,” he challenged.
My muscles trembled, shot from the booze sloshing through my veins. He pressed his toes harder down on my chin, the ball of his foot resting on my neck enough to make me gasp. A gob of his spit hit my cheek and spattered across my face.
“You gonna make me move, Arizona?” he taunted me relentlessly.
I tried to twist free, bridging my back as high as I could until my hamstrings protested with sudden tightness. He shifted, and before I could break loose, he straddled my hips with his crushing weight stapling me to the carpet. His thumbs dug into my pulse points to examine the frantic thud of my heart as his lips lowered just above mine, daring me to fight back through the haze.
“Ready to make it two nil, Arizona?” A droplet of sweat dripped from his moustache onto my tongue when I jolted against his hips, trying to lift his impossible weight off me. “You’re a fighter, Luke, I’ll give you that. But you’re not as strong as this Aussie.”
He shifted his weight again, hand travelling up my chest and settling against the soft meat below my jaw, tilting my head up again to meet his. My eyes widened, and my eyes darted around his face as his hand began to crush my throat. I grasped at his neck with my free hand, but his neck was firmer than concrete, and he didn’t budge even as I dug my nails in.
His hips pressed down tightly against me and his stomach met mine. His lips brushed mine gently at first, and then he held them against my face like soft, suffocating pillows.
Jack stood above me, body dripping with sweat and voice dripping with triumph while he cooed me awake and tapped my face with his toes. My mind was even hazier now. I didn’t know where I was, but I recognised the man in front of me for long enough to piece together that I had wanted this.
“Two nil,” his toes sharp against my red cheeks.
My chest heaved as I flipped onto all fours, crawling over to the bed to secure myself. My mind was a deep, drunken fog and I was fumbling hard.
“Look at you, Arizona. Crawling like a beat dog.” Jack crouched beside me, his rough fingers gliding down my back and pulling my underwear down around my thighs, leaving me exposed. “And look at that arse,” he drawled.
I tried to steady myself, but my hands slipped on the bed frame while mumbled whispers fell from my lips unintelligible even to me. He climbed over me, his balls brushing against my ass as he secured his hands on my shoulders. He drove his hips into me and pinned me against the corner of the mattress. His hands eagerly began to explore me as he used the sweat on his dick to press against the tight ring of my hole. My body trembled as he traced the curves of my shoulder with his tongue, cleaning the sweat from my skin.
“You’re not as tough as you talk, Luke,” he said, his lips brushing my ear as he slid his dick down my taint. “All that swagger and here you are, folded like a cheap deck chair.”
“You’re all talk, no follow through,” I mutter.
“That so?” he shifted slightly, and then he shoved his dick all the way inside me.
A gasp caught in my throat, his thickness overwhelming me and sending my body into shock. His hands locked around my throat again, and he pushed my face into the sheets to keep me quiet. His calloused fingers wrapped around the girth of my neck and squeezed it like a toy. My body arched instinctively into his, caught between the sharp sting of his intrusion and the electric jolt of his control. The mattress groaned underneath as he began slamming into me unyieldingly.
“Quiet, now, Arizona,” Jack grovelled. His lips grazed the back of my neck while his stubble scratched against my smooth muscle. “Don’t want the whole hotel hearing you, do we?
I tried to shoot back, but it came out as a choked moan lost in the sheets. My head swam, my eyes no longer able to focus under the glow of the room. He adjusted his angle with evil precision, knowing just how to get the generous curve of his dick as deep inside as possible. He stepped up onto the corner of the bed, squatting down with each thrust to bury his dick to the hilt.
“There you are, boy. Keep fighting… only makes this sweeter.”
His hips rolled again, rough and deep, each thrust sending a shockwave through me that blurred reality. The mirror across the room caught us in fragments– my flushed, sweat-streaked face, eyes half-shut and his broad shoulders flexing, the muscles in his arms coiling as he held me in place, body dwarfing me. It was raw, cruel almost. His rhythm built relentlessly and the creak of the bed seemed to set the tempo of each thrust and breath.
“Tight boy, too,” he growled, his voice losing the last of its polished edge. His hips snapped forward, less controlled like a cowboy corralling his steer. My body responded despite itself, a shudder running through me as the pressure built.
“Jack—” his name slipped out again, a mix of plea and defiance. My hands twisted the sheets as I tried to hold on.
“Yeah, Arizona?” he purred. He leaned down and his lips brushed my ear. “Gonna give in yet?”
“No,” I wheezed.
He growled, “three nil,” he said, driving himself deep inside me, his movements becoming more strained. His body began to shake, and his massive bicep found its way circling around my neck. The world dissolved as it tightened around my neck, the pressure cutting through the fog of liquor and lust. My vision blurred, greying at the edges as his arm clamped down unyieldingly. His hips drove into me with a final, earth-shuddering thrust, his body trembling as he spilled inside me. The warmth flooded my core with multiple ropes laying claim to my hole, and my hands, tangling with the sheets, finally went slack. My body slumped against the mattress as the final croaks of air slipped from my lungs, and everything went dark.
I came to with a jolt, my chest heaving as I sucked in the precious sweaty air while Jack’s rough palm left its mark on my cheek. Jack’s weight was off me, but his presence was heavy in the air. He’d rolled sprawled on the bed beside me, his hand resting on my chest with his fingers brushing my nipples.
“Three nil, today, Arizona,” he said, breathless.
He pulled me into his massive body, my head finding itself against his chest, and his hands cupping my ass. His breathing slowed, sharp breaths shifting to slow rumbles through the hollow of his chest.
