The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental. This story contains explicit sexual acts and language, so please discontinue reading if you are underage.

Hungry for Sex

Part II: Intentions Revealed

By hottcarter1987

Dean was as good as his word. He was waiting for me in the parking lot outside at the mall. I had gone to the bathroom just before leaving work to adjust my junk so that he wouldn't notice the perpetual hard-on I'd been working with all day. He was parked in one of the closest spots, sitting on his Harley Davidson motorcycle decked out in his hot black leather jacket and tight jeans. A thick cigar was planted in his gorgeous mouth, and he drew on it causing grey smoke to emerge from between his lips. He wore mirrored sunglasses that glinted in the warm sunshine. I again felt the press of my cock against my underwear and jeans, and I was again a bit nervous being in the mere presence of so much stud.

I lit up a cigarette as I approached. He noticed me and jerked his head up just slightly in greeting. "You ready, dude?" he said around his cigar.

"Yeah," I said exhaling smoke. "Whatcha been doin' since you left."

He removed his cigar. "Just cruisin' around. Nothin' much. Finish your smoke, and we'll ride."

We didn't say much to each other as we smoked, and soon we were on my way back to my apartment. It wasn't very far away, and I enjoy walking to and from work. The building was small, as was the apartment, but it was in a nice section of town and close to everything I needed such as the laundramat and grocery store. I have an old car I bought off a friend, but I rarely drive it far. Dean parked beside my car, and I unwrapped my arms from around his built frame. I nearly sighed doing this; the smell of his leather and the feel of his hard body in my arms kept me horny the whole way home.

Making our way inside, I apologized to him. "I haven't had time to clean this week, man. Sorry for the mess."

"Fuck, man," Dean replied as he looked around my living room. "This place ain't cluttered like mine. You a fuckin' neat freak or something?" It was true that I liked to make sure everything was in its place, but I wished I could have vacuumed or something before letting Dean inside. In any case, he sat on my sofa and looked around. I went to change clothes, telling him to help himself to a beer or soda in the refrigerator. "Can I smoke in here?" he asked, and I told him he could. He lit up another cigar as I entered my bedroom.

I stripped out of my work uniform and saw my very hard dick in my underwear. I knew that if I didn't get off soon, I'd explode. Dean had kept me horny all day, and while having sex with him is what I wanted, I also didn't want to scare him off. I didn't know if he was gay, straight, bi, or even was interested in me. I gave a tug or two to my member and dressed in jeans and a black wifebeater and emerged back into the kitchen that divided my living room from my bedroom and bathroom. I found Dean standing in front of my DVD shelf with a bottle of Budweiser in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. I gulped nervously because just behind the regular movies I keep there, I had hidden several porn movies. I often used them to jack off, and all of them were very explicit. My favorites were the bondage/leather types and group sex. I grabbed a beer of my own and lit up a cigarette. "Wanna watch a movie? I got some good classics. I have the 1945 version of Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None, and I've got Casablanca." I sat on the couch watching Dean intently.

Dean put his cigar in his mouth and pulled a DVD off the shelf. It was The Client, based on John Grisham's novel. "I like this movie," he said. I put it in and cut the TV on, and we sat next to each other on the sofa, smoking and drinking.

The DVD menu popped up, and I nearly choked on my beer. The title Raping Twinks appeared with the menu. A leather-clad guy stood behind a very young-looking guy with a gloved hand over the boy's mouth. "Oh, fuck," I heard Dean mutter. I looked at him, frightened at what he'd say. I had forgotten that my cousin had dropped by the other day while I was in one of my self-pleasure moods, and I hid Raping Twinks in The Client box quickly. I sat quietly while the heavy metal soundtrack played on the TV. Dean simply sat there smoking his cigar. He looked at me and took a long pull of his beer before saying, "So, you're gay."

"Yeah," I said quietly. "I don't know what to say. I didn't mean for you to know."

"Why?"

I took a long drag of my cigarette and blew the smoke at the ceiling. "I-I wasn't sure w-what you'd say about it. About me."

Dean took a puff and flicked his ashes in the ashtray on the end table. "I'm open to it. Doesn't bother me. To each his own." He had a strange tone to his voice, but I so uncomfortable at this point it didn't register right away. I got up to take the movie out, but Dean said, "Leave it in. I wanna see what you like to watch."

Now this did appear puzzling. "Why?" I asked.

"Just leave it in and sit down." This sounded more like a command than a statement or request. Something in me then stepped away from the TV and sat down beside Dean. I finished my cigarette and crushed out the bud. I exhaled fast, and Dean put his arm around me. "We're buds, man. What's a little faggot porn between buds?" He guzzled the remainder of his beer and put the empty bottle on the end table. "Play it." Again, it seems like a command to me.

I pressed play, and after the credits, Raping Twinks appeared on the screen with more heavy metal music playing in the background. The first scene started with a guy who looked much younger than 18 (despite the credits having said that all actors were 18 or older before this) on his knees in front of a hunky, older guy wearing black leather gloves and pants. The boy's wrists were tied behind his back, and the older guy was pushing his face into his hard bulge, rubbing the twink's face back and forth over it. In a husky voice, the older dude said, "You want this fuckin' dick, don't ya, boy? Huh?" The boy moaned, and the man pulled back, pulled a thick 8-inch dick out of the fly, and said, "Take it then, you little bitch. Suck it." The boy complied by opening his mouth and sucked the sex tool into his small mouth.

I felt Dean's hand squeeze my shoulder. "You really do like this shit, don't ya?" he murmured in my ear. "You like cocks." I simply nodded, my hard-on now raging in my jeans. I quickly glanced at Dean, who had put his cigar in his mouth. He reached over and grabbed my bulging crotch and squeezed hard. "Yeah, you like it. You hard for me?" I gulped and didn't say anything. He rubbed my crotch a couple of times. "You want me?" I still didn't say anything; I kept my eyes on the TV. The older man had started face-fucking the boy.

Suddenly, Dean grabbed my chin and turned my head toward him. "You hear me, bitch?" His cigar was only an inch from my nose, and the fumes floated across my face. The tone in his voice, his choice of words, and the stern look in his face made me afraid. His grip on my chin was tight. "You deaf? I said: you want me?"

"I-I-I..." I stammered. Sure I wanted him, but he was scaring me.

He let go of my chin and grabbed my hand. He shoved it between his legs, and I felt a very large, very hard cock pushing at his fly. "Feel it, bitch. It likes you." Now I was really scared. Dean forced my hand to rub his obviously thick cock through his tight jeans with a grip like a vice. I struggled a bit to pull back, but that's not what he wanted. "I know you want it, baby. Don't fight it. I saw you lookin' at my crotch at the music store. I figured you were a fag. That's okay with me. I haven't had sex for a while, and I knew you'd be perfect for a fuck."

I opened my mouth and said weakly, "But I thought you'd be a nice guy. I-I didn't want to rush it. Why are you doing this?" I started struggling to break his hold, but Dean moved quickly. He moved his hand from his crotch to my throat, and he pushed me back and got on top of me. "No, please..."

Dean clamped his hand over my mouth. "Shut the fuck up, bitch." He puffed his cigar into my face. "Faggots are only good for one thing--takin' dick. And, little boy, I'm gonna use you to get off. If you're a good slut and do what the fuck I say, you won't get hurt." He paused. "Much." He was straddling me so that I couldn't move, and he grabbed the remote and cut off the movie. Looking at me, he ordered, "Get up." He got off me and stood. When I raised myself off the couch and stood, he quickly got behind me and put his hand over my mouth again. With his free hand, Dean grabbed my arm and twisted it up behind my back. "Let's go to bed, cunt. Move." He marched me to my bedroom and shoved me on the bed. He locked my door behind him. I started to cry. "Don't cry, fucker. That only makes me hornier." He grabbed his crotch and approached the bed. He grinned. "Strip down, whore. I wanna fuck."