by Rob Rosen
I felt that wide head of his press up against my small hole as I sucked in my breath and pushed down, feeling it spread me open as it slowly made its way inside. I watched as the morning fog began its slow roll over the hills, as my asshole unclenched and allowed for the thick cock to enter, inch by inch, until my ass was slapping at his hairy balls, pain turning to absolute pleasure.
The familiar warm rush spread through my ass, up my spine, and raced across my body. I exhaled and raised and lowered my ass onto his cock, riding it for all it was worth. He reached around my side and grabbed my turgid tool, stroking it with his palm, slow and steady. Then I reached below and pulled and tickled at his balls as my ass lifted off his cock and slid back down, up and down, faster and faster. His rock-solid prick sent wave after wave of sweet shocks through my body while my asshole was being pummeled.
“Close, Max,” he rasped, quickening the stroke on my cock.
“Me, too, Fred,” I moaned back, panting as I ground my ass one final time down hard on his prick.
Our groans filled the cab as he bucked his thick dick uncontrollably into me. And then I shot, over and over again, long, steady white streams of thick, pungent come, which sprayed his steering wheel, his dashboard, my thighs, and his thighs.
He looked around and laughed as my come dripped and dribbled down his cab. “Caution, heavy loads,” he said with a low whistle.
“Judging from all that moaning going on behind me, I’d say that makes two of us,” I said, raising my ass off his cock before popping it out. Then I added, “What a great way to start the day, not to mention the rest of my life.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, unrolling the come-filled rubber and tossing it into a small waste bin at his side.
I jumped back over to my seat and leaned forward, pointing down to the Castro district below. “See that purple house with the pink trim?” I asked with a wide smile that spread across my face. “That’s my new home. Well, apartment, anyway. It’s where I was heading when my car decided to up and quit on me.”
He jumped up on his seat as well and peered over the sticky wheel. Then he let out a mighty laugh. I rubbed his hairy, hard ass with my hand, he did the same to mine, and then, when the laughter died down, I asked, “What was all that about?”
He turned and smiled, those wonderful crinkles reappearing around his stunning blue eyes, and he said, “See that green house with the yellow trim, five houses over from yours?”
“Yeah?” I replied, now playing with his puckered hole.
“That’s my apartment, Max. We’re neighbors, just as soon as we get this car of yours into my friend’s garage and get you home.” Home. It sounded so wonderful coming from his sweet, beautiful lips. “Welcome home,” he added, leaning over to give me a soulful kiss.
“Welcome home indeed,” I replied. Sliding my finger inside him as I reached my other hand over to stroke his thickening cock.
He winked at me and then straddled my lap.
“Caution,” he said with another eager kiss. “Heavy loads acomin’.”
After Hours
Pre-law. Midwestern liberal arts college. Classes ran the educational gamut: political science, philosophy, English, nothing I couldn’t handle. Still, I had to take at least one science or math class in order to get my degree. Math was out. My GPA couldn’t tolerate what was sure to be a less than stellar grade. So I opted for Biology. I knew my ass from my elbow, so I thought I had a fair shot at it. Easy enough in high school, anyway.
Then again, college wasn’t high school. And asses and elbows weren’t on the syllabus.
Meaning, I was fucked. Royally. And no lube for miles.
Still, there was one saving grace. Professor Marks may have been a hard grader, but he was easy on the eye. Tall, thin, scruffy, always wearing those tweed jackets, bow ties, loose slacks, horn-rimmed glasses. A nerd who grew well into his adult body. Sexy brainiac. Not that any of that helped me with my grades, which were lackluster at best, but at least I had reason to come to class every day.
Then midterms. Fucked again. Hell, I was fisted, still no lube, not even a gob of spit. Law school in danger, parents way pissed. Then a saving grace. A glimmer of hope. A fickle finger of fate to loosen me up. Two fingers, in fact.
One showed up in the unlikeliest of places. Library stacks, archeology section, quiet bathroom. A guy could whack his willie in private, in between studying. Me especially. One foot on the toilet paper dispenser, legs wide, back arched, the tip of my longish cock making it into my mouth. Practice made perfect. By my junior year, I could suck myself off while pulling my nuts, send a stream of come down my throat and make it back to my books in no time flat. A nifty trick, to say the least.
That’s how I spotted it, jeans down to the linoleum, my dickhead throbbing in my mouth, close, so fucking close. It was in black ink. Mister Marks trades blowjobs. I shot a hefty load just thinking of it, a trickle of jizz gliding down my chin.
“Huh,” I whispered. “What’s he trade ‘em for?”
And that second fated finger? See, turns out, Mister Marks kept after-hours. Tutoring. Just sign up and show up. By then, I needed the help. Desperately. But how does a student broach the subject of trading blowjobs without getting expelled? Or having his butt kicked? Or both.
Guess I’d have to play that one by ear.
Anyway, I signed up, showing up in his office at seven. Night time. Place was covered in diplomas, but no family snapshots. A good sign. Marks showed up. Casual. Jeans. A button down. Short sleeves revealing sinewy, hairy forearms. He smiled, got right down to business. Books open, little small talk, sitting across from me, barely catching my eye, try as I might. Guy had stellar eyes. Strikingly green, dazzling under fluorescent light. In truth, the one-on-one thing was helpful, though it did little for my throbbing cock.
Still, I’d get my chance.
* * * *
Two weeks to finals. Two months of tutoring. My grades climbed. Just needed a little boost now. Time for a trade?
“You’re doing much better, Mister Peters,” he commented at the end of one of our sessions. He smiled, teeth white, straight. Dude obviously had a good orthodontist as a kid.
“Thanks to you,” I replied.
He shrugged, reached for his jack. “I like my students to succeed.”
The way he said succeed, emphasis on the suck. Yeah, I was grasping at straws. Still, worth it to go for broke. We’d become, if not friends, then at least friendly. “Um, I thought you should know, I saw, well, some derogatory comments about you in the bathroom stacks.” I paused, swallowed hard. “I, um, scratched them out.”
He paused, turning my way, jacket in hand. “Students can be cruel,” he replied, his eyes suddenly on mine, drilling down. “What, um, what did it say?”
I coughed, my nerves suddenly leaving me, my knees bouncing, legs trembling a bit. “Oh, nothing. Never mind. I just, just wanted to repay you for, well, you know.” Still, I wasn’t dumb. If he could emphasize the suck, I could emphasize repay.
We stood there like that, his small office seemingly growing smaller, the air suddenly hot, the sound of his breathing louder. “Thank you, Mister Peters.” He nodded, slightly, his eyes still on mine. “Still, I’m curious what my students have to say about me.”
Was he baiting me or, as he said, just curious? In any case, my answering him now wouldn’t end up with that kicked ass. I looked down, focusing on his brown penny-loafers. “It, um, said, Mister Marks trades blowjobs.”
He chuckled. “What do I trade them for?”
I looked back up, echoing his laugh with my own. “I asked myself the same thing.”
He paused again, the stare continuing, scrutinizing me as a lemon-sized pit formed in my stomach. “And what did you come up with?”
Emphasis on the come. Not imagined this time. His voice was tinged with something. A nervousness. An edge. “Better grades, I’d imagine,” I replied. This time, I stared back at him, eye to eye, chocolate brown onto dazzling g
reen.
He laughed again. Short. Truncated. “That would have to be one hell of a blowjob, Mister Peters.”
My head began to swim, the sound of his wall-clock ticking, louder and louder. “Guess so,” I replied, a twitch to my smile, a loan bead of sweat forming on my brow. “Too bad.”
Then, quick as a wink. “Too bad what? That I don’t or you don’t?”
I sat back down, the terror forming in my chest nearly too much to bear. “Oh, I, um, I’ve never, well, given one.” And then, strangely, my muscles relaxed. “I mean, to anyone other than myself.”
He returned his jacket to the rack. Bing-fucking-o. “To yourself?”
I blushed, a flush of crimson spreading across my cheeks. “Sure. Not too difficult.”
“Trust me, Mister Peters, if such was the case, every man would be doing it. And brag about it.”
Again, I looked up at him, my knees bouncing in place, my breath caught in my throat. “You’ve never tried to…you know.” I aimed my hand toward his crotch.
He scratched his head, clearly thinking of his next move. Difficult waters. He had to tread lightly. “Maybe in my younger days. Just to see if I could.”
“And?”
His smile returned, big and bright and glorious. “Not even close.”
I laughed. “Just takes some practice.” Again, I paused, holding my knees steady. “I could, um, show you how. I mean, look at all you’ve taught me. Least I could do.”
He shook his head, curly hair, shoulder length, moving from side to side. “That wouldn’t be appropriate, Mister Peters.”
I stood, now an inch in front of him. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” I moved to the door, my hand reaching out, not inadvertently brushing the front of his jeans, the bulge obvious, hard, steely. I glanced back up. “You could just watch, though. No trading. Nothing wrong in that. A teaching thing.”
His breathing was now erratic. He blinked, once, twice. Then a short response, raspy. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Something new.” He nodded. “Fine, let’s see this talent of yours, Mister Peters.”
Again, I reached for the doorknob, but only to lock it. Then I moved away, a space of about three feet forming between him and I. Enough for him to watch and for me to undress. I kicked off my sneakers, placing them neatly by the door, joining them with my socks. He watched in silence. I continued, also without a word, yanking my T-shirt out of my jeans and then off, folding it and placing it atop my shoes and socks. Methodically, clinically, my heart throbbing. The belt was unbuckled, the jeans slid down, off, folded as well. Then just me and my boxers, the tenting obvious. He stood there, arms akimbo, waiting for the crescendo. I nodded, gulped, and slid down my underwear, my cock springing out, swaying as I set the final piece on the floor.
I sat in the chair staring up at him, naked, rigid. I started to speak, the words getting caught, then began again. “I, um, need to put a foot up on your desk, sir.”
“Oh, sure,” he managed, breath in a pant.
I put the foot up, my legs splayed far apart, and craned my neck down, the leaking head just a fraction of an inch away. “See, I can just get the top in, sir. Gotta strain the back, but…” And then I was sucking the head, a jolt of adrenalin shooting down my spine and up my still-thickening cock. I stared up. He stared down in rapt attention.
“That as far as you can go, Mister Peters?”
I popped it out. “Just the head, sir.” I laughed. “Still, it seems to do the trick.”
He moved in, to my side, his hand suddenly on my upper back. “Mind if I, can I, um, help. Push you down a bit.”
A novel idea. I liked the sound of it. “Please. That would be, um, awesome.”
And, like he said, it helped. A great deal. His pushing was all I needed, my one inch of downed flesh quickly becoming two, three, my mouth bobbing up and down on my granite-like prick, sucking the length of it, my eyes fluttering in ecstasy.
He eased up, my cock popping out. “Thanks. See, that’s why you’re the teacher, sir.”
He laughed, moving back to a few feet in front of me. “You’re welcome. And you’re a good student.”
I sat back up, my dick pointing at him. I clenched, made it bob. “But I could, I could, um, teach you, though. The student becomes the teacher.” Now it was my turn to emphasize the word come.
“A trade,” he said. “Just like you read in the bathroom.”
“So it is written.”
He started to undress. “So it shall be done.”
The Lit Room
It was just going to be for four nights, my boss assured me. Four nights to be paid at double time. A lot of money, but also a lot of work. Still, I could always use the extra cash, so I said yes. Besides, I knew it could lead to bigger and better things. Little did I know just how much bigger and better.
The first night was a bear, but I managed to make it out of the office by eleven, happy for the work I’d done, happier still that I was heading home to my bed. What I wasn’t happy about was the prospect of the two train rides it would take to get me there. Usually, the first train deposited me on a corner along with dozens of other people. But not at that late hour. No, I’d have to wait on the platform in the middle of the road all alone and in the dark. Not a pleasant experience, especially since the trains ran much less frequently at night.
So I stood there, humming to myself, and waited. I also looked around to get my bearings. Behind me were a sidewalk and a row of houses, all with their lights off. There was one dimly lit street lamp a block away that cast an eerie glow down the street and afforded me little in the way of light. In front of me were the tracks my train would hopefully soon be arriving on, and across from that another sidewalk and another row of houses, all with their lights off as well.
All save for one.
There was a single brightly lit room just across the platform from me. And then someone in that room came into view. He was tall, easily six-feet. And dark. Latino, I surmised. And he was naked. He had short, black hair and a matching black moustache. If he was handsome, I couldn’t tell, not from that distance. But he was definitely built. A thick layer of dark hair matted his perfectly chiseled chest and stomach. It ran straight down to a dense, black bush that sat just above a hugely swaying cock. Suffice it to say, my mouth watered at the sight of him.
Too bad my train arrived right at that moment. “Damn,” I said to myself. “Talk about awful timing.” I boarded and watched through the train window as the dark stranger started getting dressed, and then I was off and on my way home.
The next night, to be on the safe side, I left ten minutes earlier from work, just in case my tall, dark, and stunning man was running on a schedule. Again, I arrived in darkness and was greeted to the light across the street, but no man this time. I waited impatiently for a few minutes, but nothing. “Where are you?” I whispered. Bravely, I stepped down from the platform and crossed the tracks. Then I inched my way closer to the window, in case he was just out of sight. Thankfully, my assumption proved correct. From my tiptoes and with just a few feet separating myself from his front lawn, I could see the very top of his feet. “He must be in bed,” I said. And I knew there was no way to see any more of him if he was lying there like that, at least from my current vantage point.
So, with my breath quickening and my heart beating in double-time, I crept to the side of his house, where there was another window. There was also an air conditioning unit. Perfect, I thought, as I silently climbed on top of it. As was the case the night before, no one else in the neighborhood appeared to be up and about. Phew. Score one for yours truly.
I was rewarded for my bravery with my first glimpse into the room. There, on the bed, just a few inches from me, was my dark man. And again, he was naked. Only, this time, he was naked, hard, and directly in front of me. I was peering just over his shoulder and down the length of his gloriously hard, furry body. I couldn’t see his face, but everything else was in plain view.
Again, there was that magnificent, stone-hard chest, completely covered in furry, black hair. I could also see his hard, dark nipples, one of which he was mindlessly pinching with his left hand. Up from that hand laid a long, sinewy arm, replete with numerous tattoos, one of which was a curious Yes that was etched just above his left elbow. His right hand, however, was what really caught my attention. He was holding his rigid prick in that one. And he was stroking it slowly while he continued to play with his nipple. The ceiling light caused his precome to glisten at the tip of his huge, dark cock-head. Man, did I ever ache to taste it.
Even with his big, strong hand wrapped tight around the base of his cock, I could tell he had a good eight inches of hard meat there. My prick was straining against my jeans. So, seeing as I was already in up to my neck, I decided to dive all the way in. Meaning, I slid down my fly and pulled out my cock, instantly matching my stroke with his.
Then he surprised me with a new show. He scooted down the bed a bit and flung his muscular, incredibly hairy legs over his head, so his feet rested behind his head and his stunning ass was facing me. Like the rest of him, his butt was solid and covered in a jet black down. His balls were massive and furry as well, hanging a good several inches. My own balls were firmly in hand as I gently pulled and stretched them out of my slacks.
I was thrilled when his hand left his nipple and made its way to his brown, hairy hole. “That’s right, man, play with that ring,” I groaned as he did as I’d asked. He spit on his fingers and gently started to tease his way around that hole that I so wanted to have my tongue buried in. Then he eased a finger in. With his other hand, he pumped his giant cock just over his face. Both of his hands were in sync; one worked up and down on his cock, the other up and down in his asshole. Needless to say, my hand beat furiously along to his rhythm.
One finger was replaced by two as he quickened his pace. Pumping harder and harder into his furry hole and on his big, brown cock, I knew neither one of us would have long to wait. And when he finally shot a stream of thick, white come straight into his waiting mouth, I came right along with him, hitting the wall in front of me. I muffled my moan but could hear his even through the window. He bucked his hard, round, hairy ass and came in two more equally huge wads that soon overflowed his mouth. An eager tongue licked up the spillage. Mine craved for just one drop, but it was not to be. I could hear the train approaching behind me and I knew I had only moments to rearrange my own dripping cock before getting on it. I made it with a second to spare and glanced through the train’s window and into his. Again, he was quickly dressing to go somewhere.
