by KCHighland
This is a work of fiction about consensual sex beteen two adult males. If reading this type of story violates the laws of your town, city, county, or state, please do not read any further. The author retains the original copyright.
Comments regarding the story are welcome, and may be sent to KCHighland@hotmail.com. Constructive criticism is encouraged; flames will be ignored. This is my first attempt at erotica, so please bear with me. If the response is decent, I may finish the story (this is only the first part). However, since I'm the world's greatest procrastinator, I figured I had better get this submitted, or it will never be completed. :-)
They had met on the Internet. Andrew had been anticipating the encounter for a long time; when they'd first met, he'd been recovering from the flu and hadn't been able to hook up like he'd really wanted to. So they had chatted a while, getting to know each other. Eventually, they established that they were essentially a couple of cockwhores, constantly on the prowl for hot sex. As an added bonus, they were both versatile; how convenient. They both also clearly did not want a long-term relationship; any sex was to have no strings attached. The most either wanted was a fuck-buddy, possibly a regular one. They'd both talked about what an encounter between them would be like, and found their tastes very well suited to each other. A little cock-squeezing during the conversation was all it took for either of them to decide that they had to get together, and soon.
They'd agreed to get together for a nice, long no-holds-barred fuckfest in a hotel room. Both had roommates, so that ruled out the possibility of an encounter in either place. Andrew had agreed to foot the bill for the room, since it was just easier to do it. Besides, if John was as hot as he sounded, he'd gladly pay the fee. First, however, they had to meet.
The agreed-upon place was in the cafe at the Borders in North Attleboro, where Andrew was to wait. He showed up in the attire he had described to John: all black from head to toe, wearing a golf-shirt that had his company's logo emblazoned across the left breast. He'd walked in, scanned the cafe and found no sign of his friend; so he'd bought a coffee and waited.
He wasn't really expecting much. He'd been through this before, and knew that half the people prowling for sex on the Internet misrepresented who and what they were. Either their pictures were ten years out of date, or their weight was. They were intentionally deceitful, and for Andrew that was a major turn-off. While he didn't think that John was going to be any different, he wasn't holding his breath either. According to his description John was six foot tall, weight somewhere around 178 pounds, and had brown hair and hazel eyes. He was 40 years old and wore a mustache. That was about the gist of it; that and that John would show up in faded blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and black boots. The description had sounded great--including the light body hair on his upper body and his 7 inch cock--but Andrew was a realist, and knew that nothing was certain until John showed up in person. He nervously sat and read one of the local rags while he sipped his coffee.
For himself, Andrew was six feet tall, weight 220 pounds, and had the same hair and eye color. He had tattoos on his arms and back, and was planning his next one, along with a couple of piercings to go with them. He'd made no pretenses about having a perfect body. The pictures in his online profile made it clear that he wasn't some chiseled model; but they'd also made it clear that he was height and weight proportionate. Massively muscled legs from years of running represented the vast majority of his body mass; his upper body, though not as defined as it had once, perhaps, been, was decent. Well, he thought, at least I can still see my pecker and my shoes when I look down.
"Andrew?"
He looked up from his magazine and gazed at the individual standing in front of him. White T-shirt. Faded blue-jeans. Loafers. Brown hair, hazel eyes. A mustache resting over a killer smile. A hint of chest hair rising over the collar of the T-shirt. A tall, lean body. Holy shit, Andrew thought. He told the truth. He stuck out his hand. "Yeah, you must be John."
John grinned broadly and sat down at the table. "Holy shit, you actually look like you said you did."
"I was just thinking the same thing about you," he responded. They both smiled at each other and then laughed out loud.
"No," John said exaggeratedly. "We're not bitter."
They sat and talked for a bit while Andrew sipped his coffee, the news magazine completely forgotten. He was relieved. There was a hint of honesty here, and that was exciting in itself. As they talked, the scent of John's cologne crossed the table; it was subtle, but caused a definite stirring in his crotch. His stomach grew more and more jittery as he looked forward to the encounter that he was certain now lay ahead.
Finally, John leaned across the table and whispered, "You know, we could sit here all night and talk. Or, we could get that hotel room and you could fuck me silly."
Andrew nodded and smiled, and wordlessly got up, deposited the magazine and beverage in a dumpster and headed out the door. Like an excited puppy dog, John followed.
Andrew had already selected the motel. It was cheap, but they weren't really worried about the decor. They were probably going to trash the place with all the sex Andrew was planning. He went to the front office, got a room with a king-sized bed, and headed straight to it. He'd secured the room for one night only, but if John turned out to be as honest about sex as he was about his physical description, he was prepared to renew it. He was pretty sure at that point that he'd do just about anything to keep the man in bed, where he belonged.
They spent a moment checking out the room before doing anything. It was pretty much what anyone would expect from a cheap motel room, but it would suit their purposes very well. A large king-sized bed occupied the majority of the floor space; at its foot stood a bureau with six drawers. Atop the bureau was a television set with a cable box next to it. The bathroom was small but functional. Nightstands sat on either side of the bed, and heavy, dark drapes straddled the sides of the one large window that overlooked the parking lot.
Not a spectacular room, but imminently suited to what they were planning.
Andrew locked the door, turned on the lights, and drew the drapes closed. As he turned back to face the room, John was already shucking off his clothes. He smiled as he disrobed. "You owe me a serious fucking, Andrew. You got me so worked up that night, telling me how you were gonna suck my cock, then fuck my ass raw. I beat off twice that night. I've thought of practically nothing since." He stopped as he kicked his pants away. "You gonna stand there and look pretty, or are you finally gonna show me that cock?"
Andrew realized he'd been standing there just gaping at John. He was everything he'd said. His body was beautiful--nice and lean, just the way Andrew liked them. A nice hairy fuzz covered his chest and torso, and ran down his legs. A similarly fuzzy trail formed at his navel, and led enticingly down to the buried treasure concealed in his boxer shorts. Andrew wasted no further time removing his clothes. He kicked off shoes, peeled off his shirt, and shucked off his pants in a way designed to waste no time. Then, he reached into the wasteband of his own boxers and began to push them down.
"No, wait," John said, stepping forward. "Let me do it." He knelt down in front of him and grabbed him by the hips. He pulled Andrew forward and buried his face in the soft fabric of Andrew's underwear. A large, tumescent object within them swelled at his touch, brushed against his face. John purred, inhaling the smell, prolonging the anticipation. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he slid Andrew's boxers down, revealing first the base, then the shaft and scrotum, and finally the head of the seven-and-a-half inch beast that waited within. As Andrew had told him, it was uncircumcised. He licked his lips, then leaned in an pressed the side of his face against the rapidly swelling cock. Its warmth triggered a swelling in his own cock. He turned to face the member before him, kissed it, then rose to face Andrew.
Now it was Andrew's turn. In similar fashion, he knelt, sniffed the underwear and nestled his head within the cloth. Unlike John, however, he opened his mouth and gently squeezed John's growing shaft with his lips. The tool swelled and John moaned. He reached up with his right hand and, entering through the leg-hole, caressed John's balls, smiling at the feel of the hair that covered them. He gently gnawed on John's cock as he stroked his nuts, then tugged gently on them.
"Harder," John whispered.
Andrew replied obediently as he felt John's hands grip the sides of his head. He pushed harder with his mouth and pulled harder with his hand--not enough to cause pain, but enough to arouse his captivated lover.
"Yeah, that's it. Man you know how to work a cock."
Andrew released him and pulled the boxer shorts down, revealing a fully erect seven inch fuck tool staring him dead in the eye. It leaked precum precipitously; Andrew's tongue flicked out and tasted it, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from John. It was salty and sweet at the same time; its pungent aroma made his cock swell and his asshole twitch. Unable to resist, he opened his mouth and swallowed the thing whole, forcing it down his hot throat like the hungry cocksucker he was.
"OH FUCK! GODDAMN!"
His lips clamped down on the turgid member, then his tongue bathed it, top and bottom, in warm saliva. He pulled back a bit and squeezed the fucktool at the base, cutting off the blood supply so the head swelled to enormous proportions. Andrew loved that part, the way a swollen head felt when it slid back and forth across his lips, his tongue. He could never get enough of that. He pulled off of it and admired the purple head, then smacked his face with it, relishing the feel of the hot flesh against his face. Another thing he couldn't get enough of. Hungrily, he sucked the head back into his mouth and sucked on it viciously, pierced the urethra with his tongue, then swallowed the thing whole again in a single move. He repeated this maneuver while John continued to curse and swear with pleasure.
John clenched the sides of Andrew's head, and began pumping his cock into his lover's throat in long smooth strokes, sliding the head as far back as he could get it. Andrew just took it all, as if John's cock was made for his throat. When John managed to get the whole thing in, Andrew pushed his face forward until his nose was smashed into John's pubes. John smiled. The little cocksucker obviously loved dick as much as he did. And he was good at it. Really good.
After a few minutes of John longdicking his throat, Andrew pulled off the massive thing, then buried his face in John's scrotum, lathering it with his tongue. John's balls were slightly sweaty from the nervous drive to the cafe; Andrew could taste him, his musk as he licked his balls and sucked them into his mouth. John threw his head back in ecstasy and moaned aloud as Andrew gave his nuts the cleaning they deserved. All the while, his tightly clenched fist squeezed and stroked John's cock, reminding him that Andrew knew exactly what a cock was for, and how to use it.
Andrew moved further down, to the lovely space between John's scrotum and his asshole, and munched and gnawed and licked and sucked on that bundle of veins and muscle like there was no tomorrow. John couldn't believe how good this guy was. It was already better than he'd imagined. He was breathing hard, and his cock ached with a desire to release. But he resisted.
He pulled Andrew to his feet and their lips met in a passionate kiss. Their tongues danced wildly, and John could taste the muskiness of his scrotum on Andrew's breath. It made his cock twitch to know he was sharing this with Andrew. And it made him want to work Andrew over just as much. They continued to kiss, Andrew sucking desperately on John's tongue, John nibbling on Andrew's lips and sucking on them with fervor. They ground their crotches into each other, hard cocks boring into hot flesh, asses grinding, hands exploring each other's bodies. Andrew pinched John's nipples lightly and, at a positive response from John, pinched them harder. John bucked violently under the onslaught. His cock is spewing enough precum to lubricate the both of them. Their dicks slid back and forth against each other, glided hotly across their bellies, grind into their pelvises. Suddenly, it was there, beyond John's ability to resist.
"OH FUCK! OH SHIT--OH SHIT! GONNA CUM!"
Suddenly, their stomachs were awash in hot, white fluid. Andrew quickly pulled away and knelt to swallow John's cock. The turgid member twitched repeatedly, sending volley after volley of the bittersweet cream into Andrew's mouth. Each time, John shuddered violently, holding onto Andrew's shoulders. With each convulsion, each release of his cum, Andrew moaned in pleasure, thrilled to receive such sweet nectar. Finally, when John was so weak that he could barely stand, Andrew swallowed the flavorsome cream that John had so freely given him. He released John's still tumescent cock from his mouth, and kissed the head. Then he rose, licked up the cream that covered John's belly, and shared it with John in a long, passionate kiss.
John fell back onto the bed, exhausted. He was covered in sweat; he wasn't even sure when that had started. A big, stupid grin spread across his face as he recovered. "God DAMN that was good! Where the fuck did you learn to do that?"
Andrew collapsed down beside him on the bed, apparently satisfied for the moment. He places his hands behind his head, his still turgid cock twitching in the air over his belly. "Don't know. Just kinda figured it out over time."
John thought about that for a second. "Well, you're a natural."
Andrew smiled at that. "I never really thought about it like that, but yeah. I guess that's true."
John raised his hands to his face. "Christ you wiped me out!" He scowled playfully at Andrew, and smacked his tummy with his right hand. "You weren't supposed to do that, dammit. Now I have to rest a moment before I can properly service you."
Andrew grinned archly at him. "Oh, trust me, you'll service me." He rolled over on his side and looked seriously into John's eyes. His hand moved up John's lean torso to find his left nipple. He pinched it between thumb and forefinger. John's flagging penis responded in kind, twitching hungrily, as if he hadn't just received the blow job of his life. "Here's what's gonna happen, John. See, you're gonna suck my thick cock for a while. And I plan to long dick you every bit as well as you did me. I love to fuck a pretty face, John, and yours is damned pretty. Then, you're gonna eat my ass out. Finally, if--and I mean IF--you've done a good enough job of eating my ass, I may fuck you. You better rest up, John. Because once I put this thing in your ass, you're gonna know it. I'm gonna stretch you wide, and fuck you from one side of this room to the other. Got it?"
Hunger had suddenly replaced exhaustion as the predominant expression on John's face. His lips puckered as he thought about Andrew's dick in his mouth, about his tongue up Andrew's ass, about Andrew's cock drilling him across the room, plowing into him at full bore. He realized his mouth was dry; but it wasn't from fear. He licked his lips. "Yeah," he replied huskily as his asshole twitched and his cock reached its full hardness again. "I got it."
"Good. Now come with me."
Andrew stood up and crossed the room to the small, minimally-equipped bathroom. He turned on the shower, and made sure the water was nice and hot. He instructed John to get in first, and then he quickly followed.
The water, steaming hot, quickly filled the room with steam. It rained down on their bodies as they washed and rinsed off, turning their flesh red. Andrew stepped up behind John so that his cock rested between the twin orbs of John's ass. A quiet, hungry moan escaped John's lips as he placed both hands on the wall and pushed back into Andrew's fully erect manhood. "Oh fuck," he whispers.
"That what you want?"
"Oh yeah."
"Louder," Andrew ordered.
John smirked, enjoying the game. "Yeah," he said, in a louder tone.
"Yeah what?"
"Yeah, I want you to fuck my ass. I want you to bury your big fucking cock up my tight hole and fuck me crazy. I want you to pound me hard; I want to feel you pushing so deep into me that your balls slap mine. I want you to ride me like the cock hungry fucker that I am."
"Thought so," Andrew responds in a low growl. "Your ass eats cock, doesn't it, John?"
"Every chance it gets."
With a smile, Andrew reached down, grabs his fucktool, and positioned the head between John's wet asscheeks. He wormed the head in so that it was just touching John's quivering asshole. He applied a minimal amount of pressure: not enough to gain entrance, but enough to make John's hole tense up. John pushed back onto his cock.
"Put it in," he growled.
"No." Instead, Andrew pulled his turgid member out, spat on the head, and rubbed it back and forth across John's hole.
John's head started rolling from side to side. "Come on man, please? I really need it. I have just got to get fucked."
Suddenly, the teasing stopped, but the cock stayed buried, pointed at his sphincter where Andrew had positioned it. Warm, soapy hands reached around John's body, began massaging his chest, belly, and shoulders. Rich soapy lather formed, and started running down John's torso and onto his rigid cock. He couldn't remember the last time he was that fucking hard. The hands, warm and strong, continued to massage him, occasionally brushing a nipple or his cock. Andrew was using the opportunity to explore John's body, to memorize it, to commit each curve and dimple to memory. What he found more than pleased him; it was a body to remember. A body he knew he wanted to fuck over and over again. His cock twitched, pushing against John's asshole. John pushed forcefully back against it.
The thick, bulbous head popped into John's asshole. A gasp escaped John's lips, followed by a sigh of absolute pleasure. "Fuck yeah," he growled.
Andrew was surprised, electrified by his sudden entrance into his partner's tight ass. It felt so good, so warm, so moist. He longed to push it into John's ass to the hilt, to ram it in so fast and hard that John would cry out in pain; the little fucker must be punished for taking the initiative. But he decided, instead, to toy with John some more. He was going to put John through a completely different kind of torture. He pulled his thick cock back out.
"Put it back!" John barked.
"No," came the stern reply. Andrew's hand clasped John's cock and squeezed it tightly. The head bulged. "Not until I decide it goes in."
John was growling now, fully charged with sexual energy. He had to have Andrew's cock up his ass. He wanted it more than anything. It had become a need beyond anything in recent memory. His ass was already craving it; he was anticipating, well in advance, the feeling of complete emptiness that would follow when Andrew was finished fucking him and had removed his cock from John's well-used ass. He didn't care about the emptiness at that moment. All he wanted was the fullness, the thickness of that fucktool in his ass, stretching him apart, gliding across his prostate, pounding him senseless. "Put your fucking cock back in my ass!" he commands.
With a cruel grin, Andrew relented. Roughly, he shoved the head back in. "Satisfied, bitch?"
John moaned with pleasure, squirmed, then tried to push back.
Once again, Andrew pulled his cock out.
"God damn it!"
Andrew turned John around, looked him in the eye. "You haven't earned it yet, bitch. You've had a taste, though, and that's enough for now. Rinse your sorry ass off, and then get your ass onto the bed."
A slow, devious grin crept across John's face. "Yes sir."