Date: Sun, 25 May 2014 11:28:06 -0400 From: Nut Honey Subject: Master Red NSA Sex: Thug love Pt 2 By Master Red Disclaimer: This story contains explicit sexual interaction between men, all of which are consensual and of legal age. All names and some of the descriptions, attributes or characteristics of individuals have been changed or altered to protect the identity and privacy of actual people or person(s) encountered. You need to be of legal age in your jurisdiction to read this story. Copyright 2014 Nuttnhoney. This story -- in whole or part -- are property of the author and may not be copied and reposted, published or used in part without written permission of the author. Nuttnhoney reserves all rights to the story written herein. Comments, suggestions, critiques both pro and con are encouraged, welcomed and appreciated, please send to: mrnuttnhoney@gmail.com ____ Thug Love: Pt2 He closed the door behind me and I could see that he was attempting to look me up and down but his dilated pupils could do little more than leer. Looking at him (trying) to look at me I got no vibe from him that he was 'gay', regardless of the fact that I found him on a gay fuck-site and that he was standing in front of me...another man, a stranger, pretty much naked except for a towel. Combined with the location (not that gay guys can not be found in the hood), the weirdness of him living across the hall from where he told me that he lived, he looked more like a Thug than a Gay (let alone a bottom looking to be fucked) so I was starting to get the first inklings of a tingling in my gut. He was obviously high, which in and of itself does not bother me, but I did not know this guy and what he was capable of sober-let alone stoned. But, at the same time, seeing him in person; wide as a refrigerator, broad shoulders atop a tapered waist, arms as large as tree trunks, washboard abs and huge rock hard thighs, his dark skin glistening from either still being wet or from some sort of lotion or oil in what was left of the late afternoon sun coming in the barred front windows, the outline of his man-meat causing the thread-bare terry cloth bath towel to rise and fall, he took my breath away. Unfortunately, I started to wonder what else might be taken. Also, what gave me pause (other than the sheer size of him) was the amount of ink that covered his upper body. His chest, arms, shoulders and neck were tatted up more than anyone I had seen this up close and personal before. Some of the tattoos were intricate and quite beautiful in their own way, the work looked like it had come from a professional shop by an artist of the craft while others looked "home-made" (and by 'home' I wondered if he had been a guest at a correctional institution and by 'made' I wondered if there was a gang affiliation). I even spotted a teardrop tat at the corner of his eye (and I quickly wrecked my brain to remember if that particular tattoo signified that he had shot someone or was it my imagination in overdrive?) Was I confusing fact from fantasy after watching too many episodes of the HBO prison drama OZ on DVD? Even though we were roughly the same height, I started to wonder if he was a mountain too big for me to climb (on top of). Just when I was about to ask for a 'glass of water' he smiled, completely disarming me by parting his full lips to show me a set of large, even, white teeth; his face suddenly more juvenile than delinquent. "Do you want to do it on the couch or in the bed?" he asked. Something in his youthful, less than deep voice (that did not match the power and maleness of his body) and the submissive posture that his body took on made me relax and realize that if he were Everest than I am Hillary (the first guy to climb My Everest). "Fight or flight" was replaced with "fuck" and "now". I followed him through a narrow arched doorway to a bedroom where he sat on the edge of the (surprisingly) neatly made bed, where he pulled the towel away to reveal his large swollen member, pointing downward from the weight of itself, stretched out along the left side of his well muscled inner thigh. I stood in front of him and he hastily pulled down my pants and underwear so that he could suck my limp cock until it was completely engorged with blood and purpose, rock hard and ready to plunder. He looked up at me, his mouth wet with his own saliva and my pre-cum, his eyes searching mine for approval and for what was to come next, they seemed to saying, "I am yours, do whatever you want and I will not resist." Looking down I wondered how I could ever have been afraid of this big pussy bttm as I realized I had all the power. So I face-fucked him with my rock hard cock. Master Reds "Rules of the Road when Tricking" are simple and can save your ass (Literally and/or figuratively): 1) Never take your wallet (or anything of value) with you when are going to meet a trick for the first time (regardless of the zip code) 2) Put your drivers license in your front pocket, a few dollars and leave everything else at home 3) Never, NEVER, leave your wallet in your car or put it in your back pocket 4) If the trick opens the door and your gut tells you that something is not right (i.e. he does not look like his pics, he looks dangerous and/or threatening, or there are people inside that you did not expect, etc.) DO NOT enter 5) Acceptable excuses you can use to get out of going inside include: Tell him that you left your lube and/or rubbers in the car by mistake and have to go get them-slowly, casually walk to your car and get the fuck out of there If you nave already crossed the threshold and the door has been closed behind you when you get that 'fight or flight' tingle in your stomach ask for a glass of water and (9 times out of 10) the trick will oblige and that is your cue to either drink the water then politely tell him that you have changed your mind or quietly open the door and leave while he is in the kitchen (Do not worry he's not going to chase after you, he will be too surprised to know how to respond and that gives you just enough time to make your escape 6) Once inside be aware of all exits and keep your clothes nearby in case you have to make a hasty retreat 7) And finally...always, ALWAYS trust your gut instincts-if you have a "fight or flight" feeling LISTEN TO IT, it is time to leave-no matter what's going on-I mean you could have your dik deep in his butthole and if your gut says, "get out" then "pull out" and flee