Date: Mon, 23 Oct 2023 00:23:40 -0400
From: Tom x <niftywriter65@gmail.com>
Subject: Bareback Barback - 6

Disclaimers: I am an adult. I wrote this story based solely on imagination
and have not infringed on anyone's copyright. This story involves
homosexual sex between consenting males -- children will not appear in this
or any future stories in this section. This story does not include
blackmail, kidnapping, rape, minors, suicide, or homicide. Bareback sex is
a risky sexual option, and this story does not encourage you to have
unprotected sex. There are no links provided for finding this story
elsewhere. If it is illegal in your jurisdiction to view, read, or have
this material, or if you are a minor, you are asked to leave this story and
this page.

Two Quick Fucks

By Wednesday, I was so horny I could barely contain myself. But I wasn't
one for beating off alone. Pete had left Monday, and he was returning
Friday. I worked Monday night again, and it was really slow. I wished I
didn't always have to work Mondays. While there was a good group of guys at
the bar, there were three single tables all night, and they were single for
a reason. I went home annoyed.

I had to do early morning laps and decided to go to Bally's. The snow had
cleared and while it wasn't warm, the sun was shining, the roads were
cleared, and doing laps in the college pool wasn't doing it for me. I and
another guy were the only two in the pool early in the morning. He appeared
to be in his late 30s or early 40s, and while he wasn't a bodybuilder, he
had a nice body. He was tall with a nice thick head of black hair cut for
maybe a younger-than-him guy and a full beard and mustache that was neatly
trimmed and manicured. He had great shoulders, abs, a flat, broad chest,
and a super-trim waist that held his black Speedos on nicely. He was
covered in sexy, wiry fur that wasn't too dense but made him look hot --
definite DILF.  He, too, was doing laps. I jumped into the pool two lanes
from him and concentrated on getting my 150 done and on to class.

I did better than he did and was climbing out of the pool when he finished.

I hit the locker room and got a quick shower. It was a particularly quiet
morning at the gym, and like most places, there were benches in the middle
of a U-shaped area of lockers. You couldn't see the entire locker room at
once; each little U-shaped area was like a little private cove. As luck
would have it, the hot swimmer DILF walked up to the locker about two away
from mine. Of all the places to stow clothing in the locker room, the two
of us were close. I looked at his left hand and saw the wedding band. Well,
that made that easy. I did glance his way, and he had taken off his trunks
and was sporting a great-looking semi. He saw me looking and smiled.

"Do you want some of that queer boy?" he asked me teasingly.

I looked around the locker room for the queer boy. Oh, he meant me.

"Sure," I smiled back.

He spit in his hand and began lubing himself up. He grabbed me roughly,
turned me around, and pulled down my trunks, and with one quick push, he
was in me. I am thankful he wasn't huge, but he was still big enough to
hurt me. He was delivering a predictable fuck, and while he was handsome
and had a nice body and face, he was a dick.

He pushed my head into my locker and kept pumping me, insulting me, and
calling me a fag.

"I'm married, you little fag. This is the first and last fuck from me. If
you ever see me around town, don't look at me, don't smile at me, and don't
act like we know each other. I'm no fag. I'm married and just throwing you
a fuck because I need a nut. Do you understand what I'm saying, queer?" He
pushed and held my head in the locker until I could barely breathe.

Another guy had apparently come into the locker room and overheard him
talking shit to me. This guy was in his mid-30s, biker type but had a body
like a brick shit house. The dude had seen life's worst side, but that
didn't make him a bad person. To the contrary, he came around the corner,
grabbed my assailant by the throat, and pushed him against the closed
lockers. The cock I enjoyed, even if it belonged to such a prick, was
pulled out of my hole and began shooting everywhere. My new hero slapped
the other guy. It sounded like it would have hurt.

"Listen, you prick, I heard you the last time you raped one of the
students. I should have done this then, but I wasn't sure what I was
hearing. There's nothing here to misunderstand, you're a serial prick, and
if I hear you do it again, I'll find you, fuck your wife, and then tell her
all about her pretty husband."

"Who in the fuck are you talkin-?" the Speedo guy began.

With an open hand, my new buddy slapped him and knocked him to the
floor. "Listen, fucker, you open your mouth again, you'll leave here today
bloody!" The veins in my hero's neck were pumping; he was red and looked
menacing. "Get the fuck out of here, you douche."

Speedo guy got up and hobbled to the shower, not looking at either of us.

My hero held out his hand, "My name is Dan. Are you OK?"

I took his big hand and said, "Thanks, I'm fine, I think. My name is Thom."

Dan went to his locker and pulled a business card from his jacket
pocket. "Call me tomorrow after four. You and I," he shook his head in an
agitated, irritated way, "need to have a talk."

And then he got in his gear and went off to the gym.

I looked at the card. It read "J. DANIEL FOSTER, LANDSCAPER, BONDED AND
INSURED, 804-757-5407." I turned the card over -- it was blank. Nothing to
see here; it was a business card. I tucked it into my wallet.

I went to class, and while I didn't forget getting nailed by the guy in the
black Speedo, I sort of pushed Dan out of my mind.

Wednesday morning, I had two classes and one after 12. I wasn't scheduled
to work. I was caught up on assignments and decided to go to the library to
read. A little after 3 p.m. I went to the dining hall to grab a salad and
planned to go back to the dorm for a rare early night. I pulled out my
dining pass to pay when Dan's business card fell out. I picked it up and
remembered he said to call after 4. I wondered what it was he wanted to
talk about. Did he know more about the guy who assaulted me? Did he just
want to check up on me? I tapped the card on the table while I ate. I sat
there looking out the window and started daydreaming about Pete. I hadn't
heard from him since he left Monday, and I found myself missing him.

"Hey Buddy, can I sit here?" it was one of my teammates who had nailed me a
few times.

"Sure," I looked up at him and smiled. "What have you been up to?"

"The same old -- classes, practice, jacking off, you know."

I nodded. I knew about the first two but only a little about the third.

"Hey," he started, "I was wondering if you were busy later?"

I snapped out of it, the pre-sex obligatory talk, for a second and realized
it was 4:05.

"Dude, you can lay some serious pipe, but I have an appointment in about 45
minutes, and I need to go make a call."

"Hey, it's all right," he said as I stood up.

"Can I call you tomorrow?" I asked as I left.

I don't know what made me nervous about calling Dan; I hesitated and then
dialed.

"Yo, what's up?" Dan answered the phone.

"Hey, it's Thom," I tried to sound casual.

There was a pause for a few seconds, then he said, "Oh right, Thom. Hey,
man, I'm just getting off work. Do you want to come over to my place? Or do
you want to meet at a bar?"

"I'm not 21 yet, man."

"Then I'll pick you up, and you can come over and chill with me. You can
crash if you need to. But buddy, you and I gotta talk before I get drunk."

"Sure, I'll meet you at Church and University," I replied, unsure of what I
had just done.

"I'll be five minutes. I got a beat-up red Ford F-150. See ya," and he hung
up.

I looked at the phone. Yeah, he just hung up. I hurried to the corner and
waited for a red truck to drive through. I saw him on the opposite side of
the street and did a quick jaywalk cross to get to the passenger side. He
leaned over and pulled on some strap to open the door. The passenger seat
and foot area were littered with protein shake bottles, wrappers from
breakfast sandwiches, and a few empty cigarette packs.

"Eh, just kick that shit over and get in, you ain't going to hurt nothing."
He sped off before I had the door closed.

"Hey, I gotta hit the 7-11 for a six-pack before I go home. What do you
like?"

I stammered, "Bud Light?"

"You sure?" he looked at me. "Ever try Heineken? You'll like it."

He pulled into the parking lot and hopped out with some bottles falling out
behind him. "Oh, Jeez, what am I doing?" I thought when he got out.

"Hey, I live in a mobile home, man. Hope you're OK with that," he said as
he popped the lid off his first Heineken with his seatbelt. He took a big
swig and handed the bottle to me. "Here, drink it. You'll like it." He
pulled out of the 7-11 like a bat out of hell and nearly hit a car, making
a legal turn. "Motherfucker," he muttered at the driver. We headed down the
highway to his house.

I took as big a swig as he had, and to my surprise, it was pretty good. I
had beer before, but not an import like this. I tried handing it back to
him, "Nah, you finish it. I got more," he said, patting the five remaining
bottles. Then he grabbed the bottle from me, took another swig, and held it
at me to take back. "Do you mind?" he asked me as he lit a cigarette. If I
did, it was too late to say anything; it was his truck.

In about ten minutes, we skidded into the gravel driveway of his mobile
home. It was an older model but well-maintained compared to the others
along his street. We walked up onto the porch, and he unlocked the door
with a sign on it: "Don't come knockin' if the trailer is rockin'."

"Ah fuck," I thought, "what have I done?"

I followed him into a dimly lit living room with clutter everywhere. There
were full ashtrays on every end table and empty Heineken bottles on the
floor, on the couch, and on the coffee table.

"Sorry, it's a mess," Dan apologized and cleared a seat on the couch for
me. He put four of his beer bottles in the fridge and opened his next with
his bare hands. "You want another one?" He asked before settling in and
leaning back in a well-used easy chair across from where I was sitting. He
had closed his eyes for a minute and took a few deep breaths. He hadn't
taken off his jacket or ball cap yet. He got up and banged the wall where
the thermostat was located. "It's cold in here, itn't it?" I didn't know if
it was a question or a statement. The heater started up and soon blew warm
air out of the bent-up floor vents.

"Dude, tell me what happened to you yesterday," Dan leaned forward in the
chair and looked at me.

I was nervous and ashamed of what he found me doing in the locker room
yesterday morning with that guy. I took a deep breath and began, "Well, I
think you might already know this, but I'm gay."

"Yeah, what's that got to do with what happened?"

I looked down at the floor, "I saw his cock, he offered to fuck me, and I
let him."

"Look at me," he demanded. "Why did you let him talk to you like that?
That's what I want to know."

"He was nice about it at first. I thought he was cool, but he turned out to
be a jerk."

"So he didn't talk like that before he started fucking you?"

I looked down again and shook my head.

Dan got up and got another beer. He brought me one, too, and sat next to
me.

"Look at me -- I don't care that you're gay, but I think it bothers me more
that you didn't stand up for yourself."

I looked him straight in the eyes. "At first, I thought it was a joke, that
he was fooling around, but when he had my neck pushed up against the ledge
of the locker door, and I couldn't move, I realized he wasn't fucking me
for pleasure."

"No shit," Dan exploded. "If I see that sumbitch with another student, I
sware I'll beat him to a fucking pulp, and I will go fuck his wife while he
watches me and tell her about her gay husband. I promise her husband won't
look so pretty when I finish with him."

Dan took off his ball cap and jacket, tossed them into the easy chair, and
then sat back down next to me. He wore a stretched-out faded t-shirt that
fit him snugly where it mattered, even in its poor state. His jeans were
filthy and had holes at the knees and on his back pocket. His boots were
expensive but dirty as well. He had a chinstrap beard on a very square,
tight jaw with a thin mustache above some thin, colorless lips. He had
two-day-old stubble on the rest of his face. His eyes weren't round and
soulful, but more like slits and a grey-green color. His broad nose looked
like it had been broken a few times, and his big hands were rough and
dry. Short hair was peeking out from the black durag he had on under his
ball cap. He had a diamond stud in his left ear.

He got up and went to the kitchen. He fumbled around in the
refrigerator. "Hungry? I got hot dogs and mac n cheese. Or I can order a
pizza." He went to one of the cluttered counters to a beat-up old coffee
can, pulled out some papers and some weed, and began rolling a blunt. He
looked around the counter for a lighter and swore. He came to the coffee
table, lit it, took a long drag, and handed it to me. I had smoked pot
before and never liked it too much, but I felt like I needed it in the
situation I found myself in.

He sat beside me, took another drag, and put it in the ashtray. He had his
elbows on his knees and was looking at me. I began to feel
uncomfortable. "Listen," Dan started, "the only way to deal with fuckers
like that is to fight back. Start training with me. I'll show you how."

I looked down at the floor, ashamed maybe that I didn't try to fight my
attacker. Dan grabbed my chin roughly. "Damn, you are cute!" And then,
without warning, he leaned in and kissed me.

"I... I. . .thoug--" I stammered.

"What, you thought I was completely straight?" Dan laughed coarsely and
coughed. "Why do you think you're here?"

He grabbed my hand and pulled me from the couch. "C'mon, let's go back to
my room. I need a shower."

"Sit down, here," he pushed me down not so roughly on the corner of an
unmade messy bed. He started undressing in the small bathroom attached to
his room. He pulled off his jeans and wore a pair of plain white Fruit of
the Loom white briefs with holes in them. He didn't look at me. He just
kept undressing piece by piece, groaning occasionally and stretching
out. He finally finished undressing by removing his durag and laying it on
the sink. He turned to me, and I was blown away. Under the scruffy, dirty,
beat-up clothes was a good-looking man with a killer body. He had slabs of
abs, massive arms that weren't perfect rounded biceps but had huge muscles
and two thick veins running down each bicep, a flat, broad chest with good
cleavage that had striations on his muscles, massive shoulders, and a wide
neck. I think he was naturally hairless because it didn't look like any
stubble growing on him. He had the thickest uncut cock I'd ever seen before
or since.

"Not bad for 36, huh?" he asked me, not really expecting a response.

My mouth was open, and I was again at a loss for words. He turned around,
showing off a chiseled ass, and started the water for a shower. He didn't
wait for it to get hot; he just got in and groaned that it was still too
cold, but he stayed in there while it warmed up. He started whistling and
then broke out singing while he was showering. He had an excellent voice,
stayed on pitch, and belted out some cute little masculine country song
like no one was around. I could see his hands rise above the shower curtain
occasionally while he was soaping up his pits. You could tell when he was
washing his feet or legs because his ass would push and stick to the cheap
poly curtain. Then the water stopped.

"Fuck," he shouted. I didn't even know what that meant. "Grab me that towel
on the other side of the bed. Yeah, that one on the floor."

I handed him the towel, and he opened the shower curtain. "Why are you
still dressed?" he asked me.

I couldn't speak but knew he wasn't one to mince words, and I started
getting undressed. He kept humming and started shaving his stubbly face. "I
haven't had time the past few mornings to get to this. . . shit." He
dropped the razor in the sink. He had cut his face shaving. "Fuck, that
hurt." He opened the medicine chest mirror combo above the sink, pulled out
a little shaving chalk, and dabbed it on his bloody spot.

He came out of the bathroom, and I was standing there chilly in just my
training suit. He eyed me up and down and then roughly turned me around so
he could inspect my backside. "Were you wearing these yesterday when he
raped you?"

"Not this same pair, but something like it."

"No wonder he got hard and needed to bust a nut." He turned me around, and
I was flush.

Dan fumbled with the drawstring while he planted a big, wet kiss on my
mouth. His insistent tongue pressed into my mouth as I slipped out of my
trainers. "You're purdy," he cooed, pushing me onto the bed. He fell to his
knees, pulled me to the edge of the bed, lifted up my legs, and started
assaulting my hole with his horny tongue. He ate, he munched, he grunted
and groaned. I moaned and started getting ancy while he expertly worked on
my ass. Fuck pizza, this guy was having dinner right now. He was slowing
his movements down there and then planted a kiss on my balls.

"Fuck it," he said crudely, "I still like eating ass over pussy. You're
hotter than my past five girlfriends combined." I took it as the compliment
he meant to deliver.

He climbed up on the bed, lifted me by my armpits, and pulled me to the
pillows. His cock was swollen and raging. He reached under the pillow and
pulled out a messy, almost empty bottle of lube. He rubbed it on his cock
and gruffly stuck his thick finger in me.

Instead of getting on his knees like most of my previous guys, he lifted up
one of my legs and found a way to enter me while lying on top of me. Fuck,
he hurt. He hurt bad. And yet, in all of this commotion and strange
experiences so far, I was more than willing to take him. He eased in more
gently than I expected from him. Steadily, though, I took his excruciating
solid 11 inches. When he bottomed out in me, he kissed me, "You've done
better than any girlfriend I've had in ten years. Christ, you're tight,
too."

His admiration made me want him more. I opened my legs wide, and he
positioned his muscular body between them. He grabbed the sheets above me
with one fist and next to my armpit with another fist and began fucking me
in earnest. His muscular torso was on top of mine, and he buried his face
in the bed beside mine. Occasionally, he would turn towards my ear and
grunt and howl. He had me wet inside and he was plowing my hole like a
champ.

We weren't even at it for five minutes, and I felt him tense up. He grabbed
at the sheets harder, and I began to moan. I knew he was ready, and then he
let out a guttural shriek and unloaded his balls inside me. I've had strong
ropes blown into me, but you could hear his first one splashing my
insides. I fucking saw stars, and his thickness and length hit something in
my back as he came for at least a half minute in me. For as much energy as
he used to fuck me and as intense as his orgasm had been, he was only
slightly out of breath. "Faaahhuck," he groaned, "stay still a minute."

He stayed inside me and got himself to his knees. He very carefully and
deliberately started fucking me again. "Don't move," he commanded as he
slowly kept plowing my hole, but not very gently. His intensity increased,
and he started getting thicker. "I'm going to bust again, baby, any second
now."

I hadn't come the first time, but the horniness of having two loads
deposited in me within five minutes by this hulk of a man got me
frenzied. I started tossing my head back and forth and rubbing his muscular
chest with both hands. I pinched his hardening nipples. He was solid and
steady and found my prostate. I was in heaven, and I was about to blow.

"I'm coming, baby," was all I needed to hear before shooting all over
myself. The first shot hit the headboard and melted down as I pumped spurt
after spurt from my balls over my chest and belly. Dan was wincing in
agonized ecstasy as he delivered his second equally impressive load into my
guts. I think there is something that makes any man proud when you realize
you just caused another dude to come without touching himself. I could see
that look roll over Dan's face.

He collapsed on top of me and was panting pretty heavily this time. "Fuck,
dude. You're better than any girl I've had. I haven't had a nut like that
since I can remember. And how the fuck did you come like that? That's
fucking hot."

"I'm not the only hot fucker in this bed right now," I said, beginning to
feel the total weight of his body on mine. He could feel me trying to move
and rolled off me. "You made me nut by the way you fuck."

He grinned and closed his eyes. "Stay tonight," he finally said before
rolling over and going to sleep.

We woke up long before dawn. Dan got hard and fucked me pretty routinely
from behind. I could feel his balls slapping mine, and in a quick ten
minutes, he was coming a fresh load into me again. I was steel hard, but I
had to rub my load out because I didn't see him or have him on top of
me. Still, it was a pretty satisfying fuck. He climbed into the shower and
rinsed off. "I gotta go to work early; you need a shower?"  "Nah, I'm good,
thanks!"

Dan drove me back to the dorm in silence. When we arrived at the front
door, he turned to me and said, "Good fuck, man! Gimme your number. I
called out the numbers as he put it in his phone."

"If you want training to fix pricks like the other day, call."

He leaned over and kissed me. "Take it easy, kid."

I got out, and he drove off.

I heard from Dan the following week. We started a training program, and he
helped me build some muscle and showed me some tremendous self-defensive
skills. Pay was spending the night with him, which I didn't mind.

Dan was a regular fuck buddy for a couple years.  I never stayed in touch
with him and I think he quit calling me.  He never bothered me if I didn't
pick up the phone, which I did frequently while living with Pete.  I
learned a lot of self-defense from Dan which I had to use once or twice.