What the fuck?

Before you start reading, please be advised this writing is not for everyone. Minors, for example. People who don’t want to hear about gay people having sex. Yes, some of the writing is explicitly sexual. You’ve been warned. You might get turned on. I hope you do. If you don’t want to go there, don’t. 

IT WAS AS THOUGH he were making up for lost time. He wanted sex so badly, he’d do crazy things to get it sometimes. Dangerous things. In this one aspect of his life, Rick felt a little out of control.

There was the sexy boy in the striped jeans he had met at Esta Noche and gone home with. He hadn’t planned on staying out so late. It was a work night, and Rick’s boyfriend was asleep at home. He told the boy he liked his pants, not realizing at the time he’d stolen the line from a Docker’s commercial. He bought him a beer.

They walked the few blocks from the club and up the narrow stairs without talking much. The boy didn’t speak English. Rick’s Spanish was passable, but it hardly mattered. Just inside the door, the boy—Rick had already forgotten his name—forced Rick down to his knees to suck his big, uncut dick. All this before they’d even gotten their coats off. Rick happily complied, sucking and swallowing the sour cum dutifully. He liked it.

Rick stood up, smiling, keeping his hands where they’d been on the boy’s round ass, and drew him in for a kiss, smelling again the cheap cologne he’d noticed at the bar, cologne and beer mixed. Why that turned him on, he didn’t know. The boy shifted just enough in time to avoid a direct hit. Okay, he’s not a kisser, then, Rick noted with some disappointment. That was always a disappointment.

It was a crappy little apartment on a bad, noisy block, roommates asleep in the other rooms, a mattress on the floor of the boy’s small bedroom, and stuff piled everywhere. The smell of cooking permeated the whole cramped space. It wasn’t a bad smell. It reminded Rick that he hadn’t eaten a thing since lunch…unless you counted the cum.

They took off their coats, and the boy pulled Rick down onto the unmade bed. Now smiling as well, the boy went straight for Rick’s belt and undid the buttons of his jeans. Without much ceremony, he pulled out Rick’s hard cock and jerked him off, making him come on his own T-shirt—Rick’s, that is—pulled off over his head by the boy a minute too late and tossed in the corner. Rick hated that he came so fast. Sated, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to sleep. Sleep or go home.

But no, the boy was ready for more. He sucked Rick’s nipples, licked cum off his belly. He flipped Rick over without any warning, yanked his still-opened jeans down around his knees, and roughly climbed on top. Rick liked feeling the boy’s full weight on him like that. He didn’t like getting fucked, not really, but he found this kind of surrender, this full-body contact, comforting like an embrace. The boy pulled his own pants—those striped jeans that had inspired Rick’s lame but effective pick-up line—down around his ankles. They both still had their boots on, jeans tangled inside-out, restricting their movement in a way that heightened the excitement.

The boy’s cock was hard again already, and Rick could feel it pressing hard against his ass. (He was impressed, at the same time aroused and kind of over it; his own dick had gone soft and wasn’t likely to make a full comeback anytime soon.) The boy used his knees to push Rick’s legs apart, as much as he could with the jeans caught up in the boots, anyway, spat to lubricate his cock, and began to force his way in.

Rick was not all that used to getting fucked, and especially by a cock that size. This boy had never heard of foreplay, apparently. And, though he tried to rally, wished that he could, Rick just wasn’t feeling it, having come already and by now dead tired.

He asked the boy to use a condom, and one magically appeared, to Rick’s relief, sort of. He had asked for the obvious reason, but also hoped the lack of a condom might give him an excuse to get out of being fucked.

No, the boy was determined, and he fucked Rick hard.

Rick buried his face in the pillow, which smelled faintly of the boy. It smelled like his hair. He kept hoping the whole time that the boy would come, ending his agony. When it finally happened, the boy spasming in a series of powerful thrusts and moans that Rick could only stand knowing this meant it would be over, the relief felt sweet. The boy collapsed on top of Rick with one last grunt.

Jesus Christ, that was rough. He wondered how long the boy would stay there without moving and hoped that the guy wouldn’t fall asleep on him.

“¿Te gustó?” the boy asked, coming back to life.

“Sí,” Rick lied, turning his head to smile at the boy as he finally pulled out and lifted off his weight. He saw the boy’s big dick dangling, half-hard still, glistening in the dim light with spit and cum. Sexy.

And no condom. What the fuck? Rick felt a sudden chill. He felt exhausted. He said nothing.

He rolled onto his back and pulled his jeans up without fastening them, made his way to the tiny bathroom, and pulled the door shut behind him. He opened the tap and leaned heavily on the sink. He tried to take deep breaths.

Fuck. What the fuck am I doing here? he thought. Or maybe he said it out loud. A clock read 3:15. He was starving.


One thought on “What the fuck?

  1. Pingback: You sexy thing | I can't believe Dave X Robb doesn't have a blog

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