As soon as the guy felt me coming in his ass, he came too. His ass tightened around my still-spewing cock as he came, and I felt his body convulse over and over as he blew his load. Thick ropes of jism flew from his untouched prick and fell to the floor as his prick released blast after blast. When he was finished, I slipped out of him and pulled the rubber off, carefully keeping my load trapped in the tip.
Standing in front of him, I looked into his face. The blood had dried under his nose, and his eyes were half-open. He was breathing heavily, and his spent cock was still hard. Reaching up, I undid the belt that held him prisoner and he collapsed to his knees in front of me. He looked up, his wrists still bound in front of him. Holding the rubber to his mouth, I tipped the sticky contents toward him. He opened his lips as my cum splashed out and over his chin, drinking in as much as he could. My load dripped from his chin onto his chest, where it stuck to the hair in thick drops.
When I had drained the rubber, I tossed it aside and brought my sticky prick to the man’s lips. “Wash it off,” I told him. He opened his mouth and began to lick me clean, his tongue warm on my skin as he tasted his first cock. Watching him suck me, I began to get hard again as my dick swelled with new heat. “Oh, yes,” I said as I put my hands on his head and guided my prick into his eager throat. “There’s still a lot you have to learn.”
A Winter’s Tale
I lived in New York for almost a decade. Every year, usually in the middle of one of the city’s slushy winters, I said I was going to move. Then we would have one of those glorious snowstorms that turned the place into a wonderland, and for the day or so that it lasted I would be in love with the city again.
It had begun to snow in the late hours of the afternoon, a few tentative flurries that surprised and delighted schoolchildren on their way home for dinner and annoyed rush-hour commuters caught unprepared for the sudden change in the weather. On the streets, shoppers and travelers pulled their collars tighter against the wind’s tickling fingers and remarked casually that it would end soon. But instead of sweeping in and out in a hurry, the snow remained, and within a few hours what had at first been nothing more than a mid-December novelty became a steady fall that wrapped around the shoulders of the city’s skyscrapers in a thin but persistent embrace that took even the weathermen, long ago accustomed to looking foolish, by surprise.
By eleven, when my night began, everything in the city was blanketed with a good six inches of soft, powdery whiteness. It wasn’t a lot, really, but in New York terms it was the snowfall of the year, and certainly enough to keep most people inside with cups of steaming coffee. I felt as though I were driving through my own little world as I navigated the limo through the darkened streets, my headlights cutting through the steadily falling snow while the few people who were out walking scuttled in and out of the thin yellow streams like shadows behind a stage’s fluttering scrim.
Because of the unexpected storm, most of the usual clients had canceled for the evening, leaving me free to take on last-minute calls. Shortly after picking up my car, I got a call from the dispatcher to make a pickup at a restaurant in the Village. A businessman needed a limo to take him back to his uptown hotel. It was an easy run, and I had time before I had to be there, so I enjoyed the silence of the frozen city, taking in the way the colors of the traffic lights played over the swirling snow as I moved down Seventh Avenue.
I found the restaurant and waited, sitting on the silent Village street amazed by how quiet it was. Usually the neighborhood would have been filled with people going to dinner or returning home from the movie theater on the corner. But no other cars drove by, and the only people I saw were a couple wading through the growing drifts behind two large black Labradors, who plunged noses first through the snow, tails wagging as they explored their new world, their big paws leaving deep prints as they passed by.
The restaurant door opened and light spilled onto the sidewalk like water thrown from a bucket as two figures emerged wrapped in coats and scarves. Crossing the street quickly, they walked toward me. I got out of the limo, feeling the cold kiss of the snow greet my cheek as I opened the back door and held it for them. With a nod of thanks, the two men got into the backseat, and I closed the door behind them. Returning to my own seat, I waited for instructions.
Looking in the rearview mirror, I studied my passengers. One of the men appeared to be in his early forties. He was wearing a dark suit beneath his long coat, and his short silver hair was slicked back. He wore small, round, gold-framed glasses and was busily brushing stray snowflakes from his coat sleeve. The other man seemed to be Middle Eastern, his brown skin and black hair a sharp contrast to the other man’s pale coloring. He looked to be about thirty and was dressed in a rich golden brown suit with a flowered silk tie closed with a neat knot at his throat. A scarf hung around the shoulders of his blue greatcoat.
The silver-haired man leaned forward. “We aren’t in any real hurry,” he said, his voice low and pleasant. “Why don’t you just drive around for a while. When we want to stop, I’ll let you know.”
With that, he leaned back in his seat and pressed the button on the control panel that raised the narrow window separating the back of the car from the front. As the glass slid upward and the last few inches of space between us closed, I saw him lean forward and take the other man’s face in his hands.
Starting the car, I turned on the wipers and cleared the snow from my windshield. Gliding down the street and onto the avenue, I began to drive through the city. So close to midnight, it was almost entirely deserted and I drove slowly, watching the snow tumble out of the sky and scatter across the streets. The car was warm, and it was nice and quiet inside while the snowstorm raged all around. With nowhere to go, I had all the time in the world. I turned the radio to a classical channel, and the sound of a string symphony surrounded me with its soothing voice.
As I drove, my thoughts turned to my two passengers. I knew nothing about them except that the silver-haired man’s name was Aronson and that he was staying at the Park Plaza Hotel. Other than that, they were complete mysteries to me. I wondered who they were and what they were doing together on this blustery winter’s night. Most of all, I wondered what was going on in the backseat at that very moment as I drove through the sleeping city. The little I’d seen before the window closed intrigued me, the sliver of passion growing into visions that filled my head with thoughts of skin against skin and mouth on mouth.
I glanced at the small television monitor set into the dashboard. It’s attached to a small camera mounted in the back of the car, and the passengers don’t even know it’s there. Drivers use it to keep an eye on riders who might be drunk or who need to be woken up before getting to their stops. Otherwise, it’s usually turned off. Although I knew that spying on passengers wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination the right thing to do, I was curious to know what they were up to.
Reaching over, I turned it on. The screen flickered to life, and soon I had a perfect view of the action taking place in the rear of the car. Although it was black and white, and the picture wasn’t always the clearest, I could certainly tell what was going on. Both men had removed their overcoats and suit jackets, pushing them aside. The dark-haired man was settled back against the seat, and Aronson was kissing him passionately. His mouth moved over the other man’s face and neck slowly as he explored with his tongue, tracing the lines of his throat. The dark man’s hands were on Aronson’s back, their brownness shadowy against the whiteness of his shirt as he pulled him in closer.
Aronson continued to kiss the other man as his hands moved around to undo Aronson’s tie and unbutton his shirt. When it was unbuttoned, he slipped the shirt over Aronson’s shoulders and pulled it off. Aronson had a nice body, solid without really being muscular, the lines and curves of his back showing his years and experience. His chest was covered in short hair the same soft silver color as that on his head. The other man’s hands ran over the broad expanse of his back and down around his wais
t, taking in the feel of him as he rose up to push his groin against Aronson’s belly.
Aronson, obviously aroused, pulled roughly at the man’s shirt, slipping the buttons open hurriedly in his haste to undress him. As it fell away, I saw that the man’s chest was covered in thick swirls of coal-black hair that ran from his neck down to his groin. Aronson’s face moved over the man’s torso eagerly, licking in slow circles at the hair visible between the white folds of his shirt. He took his time, sucking on the exposed nipples and letting the man’s hair brush his cheeks as he worked his way down his belly.
When he reached the man’s stomach, he began to fumble with his belt, his hands clumsy with desire. When he had it open and had pulled the man’s zipper down, he worked his pants down and off. Then he pulled his own off as well, pushing both pairs out of the way and kneeling on the floor of the limo, which was now scattered with discarded clothes.
The two of them were wearing only their underwear now, Aronson in boxers that clung to the mounds of his ass tightly as he bent forward and sucked at the dark-haired man’s cock through the soft cotton of his briefs. He mouthed the bulge between the man’s legs hungrily, his lips sliding along it roughly while the man’s hands rested lightly on either side of his head. Several times Aronson moved down and shoved his face deep between the other man’s legs, his mouth filling with white cotton as he sucked and tugged on the balls hidden behind the soft material.
Grabbing the waistband, he yanked the briefs off to free the man’s dick. It sprang up from a tangle of dark hair, long and thick and straight, and lay against his belly. The head, round and dark, was oozing a stream of precum that silvered the black hair on the man’s groin with sticky drops. A set of heavy balls rested between his spread legs, their weight spreading over the soft leather of the seat.
The sight on the monitor of the man sitting in the back naked with his beautiful prick hard against his stomach really turned me on, especially since I knew that in actuality he was only a few feet away from me. I could feel my own cock straining inside my uniform pants, and rubbed it with one black-gloved hand while the other rested on the steering wheel. I kept one eye on the road and one on the monitor as I waited anxiously to see what Aronson would do.
Sliding his own underwear off, Aronson freed what was also a good-sized prick. Long and very thick, it nicely matched the rest of him, sticking straight out from between his legs. He positioned himself next to his companion on the seat, and the two men sat side by side as they jerked themselves off and played with one another’s balls. Running their hands over each other’s chests, they kissed deeply, enjoying one another’s bodies.
They were delicious contrasts to one another—dark and light—and it was wonderful to watch them stroke their cocks while we moved unnoticed through the streets. Aronson held his dick tightly in his fist, pulling up on the head sharply with each stroke of his hand. The other man was more relaxed, slowly rubbing his shaft with two fingers while his thumb swirled around the crown, sweeping up drops of precum to use as lube. I laughed to myself as I imagined the few people out in the storm watching the car go by and wondering what was going on inside it.
After a few minutes of watching the other man play with his dick, Aronson sank to his knees on the car floor and once again positioned himself between the dark-haired man’s legs. Luckily, the camera was mounted so that it looked down right over his shoulder. I could see every move as he leaned forward, took the man’s prick into his mouth, and slowly worked every inch into his throat. I was amazed that he could get the whole thing down so easily, and felt a tugging in my balls as I saw his nose buried in the other man’s bush.
The dark-haired man’s hands went onto the back of Aronson’s neck and began to guide him up and down the heavy shaft in his mouth. Aronson obliged willingly, silently sucking at the thick tool as it pushed past his lips. When just the head was inside his mouth, he paused, running his tongue around the edge and darting into the piss slit before pressing downward and once again burying the cock to the root in his throat.
Watching him give such excellent head was too much. Reaching down, I unbuckled my pants and managed to slide them off enough to free my aching prick. Gripping it in one hand, I stroked myself in time with Aronson’s movements, the leather glove slipping sensuously along my shaft just as Aronson’s tongue lovingly washed the dark man’s massive dick. I squeezed the head gently and watched some drops of precum roll onto the soft leather that encased my fist. Bringing it to my lips, I licked my juice off, the smooth taste of the leather mingling with the sweet stickiness on my tongue.
The dark-haired man had pulled his knees up so that he was half lying on the seat with his legs spread. While Aronson continued to work on his cock, the man slipped one hand down under his balls and slid a finger into his asshole. He moved it in and out slowly, fucking himself while he got serviced. His eyes were closed, and his face was a mask of pure pleasure as his fingers slid in and out of his ass, the thick hair around his opening brushing his hand with every stroke.
Aronson began to suck faster, and I saw the dark-haired man’s body tense as he neared the edge. A few more strokes of Aronson’s expert mouth was all he needed. He came, his mouth opening in a silent roar of ecstasy. Aronson’s throat muscles moved furiously as he gulped down his lover’s load, and when he finally raised his head, a thick strand of cum stretched from his lips to the head of the other man’s dick. I had to clamp my hand tightly around my own shaft to keep from coming at the sight.
After licking the man’s cock clean, Aronson got up and knelt on the seat once more, his knees on either side of the dark man’s body. The man pushed himself lower, so that Aronson’s cock was pointed straight at his mouth. Resting his hands on the back of the seat, Aronson leaned forward and drove his dick deep into the dark-haired man’s throat. I saw the muscles in his ass tighten as the man took the length of his fat piece in completely, closing his lips around it. His hands moved over Aronson’s back and ass while he sucked him.
Reaching the edge of the city limits, I was now driving along the water, the thin black ribbon of the frosted river rolling along beside me. It was so beautiful that I decided to head onto one of the bridges linking Manhattan with the outside world. Momentarily taking my eyes off of the monitor, I pulled onto the approach ramp and up the snow-covered climb to the upper level of the bridge. My dick was still hard and insistent in my palm, and I pulled on it steadily as I drove, keeping myself constantly on the agonizing border between intense need and the pleasure of release.
When I looked back to the monitor, I saw that the dark-haired man had slipped two fingers into Aronson’s ass. Still sucking his cock he pumped his hand steadily in and out of the dark space between the man’s round, firm ass cheeks. Aronson pushed himself back against the invading fingers, fucking himself shamelessly. He was rocking on the man’s fingers while his dick slammed repeatedly into the lips that welcomed him in eagerly.
Driving slowly along the upper deck of the bridge, I looked out at the lights of the city blinking lazily through the screen of snow. The music in the car surrounded me with gentle ripples of sound, and the road before me was clean and empty. The action on the monitor continued uninterrupted, and I felt all alone in the world with just the images of the men making love behind me and the hardness of the cock in my hand as I floated over the black water below.
On the monitor, the dark-haired man was holding his prick in his fist while Aronson lowered himself slowly onto it. Several inches were already buried in Aronson’s willing ass, and he soon pushed the remaining length of thick shaft inside himself until he was impaled on the big dick, his asshole stretching around it greedily. Once inside, the dark man began to rock his hips slowly, driving himself up and into Aronson’s butthole. His hands gripped Aronson’s ass tightly, the long brown fingers pressing into the flesh as they began their lovemaking.
As the fucking sped up, I began to jerk myself in rhythm with their movement. The dark man was pumping himself quic
kly into Aronson’s hole, the head of his dick slamming in and out rapidly, and my hand flew along my shaft along with him, the leather surrounding my skin tightly. Aronson was playing with his cock while he got fucked, and his hand was moving quickly along his tool as he worked himself over.
We had reached the highest point of the bridge’s rise, the pale winter moon hanging what seemed like only inches above the limo’s roof, when the dark-haired man rose forward, pushing Aronson backward. Never taking his dick from Aronson’s ass, he laid him down on his back on the opposite seat. Pulling Aronson’s legs over his shoulders, he began to pound his ass furiously in long, hard strokes. The camera looked directly into his face as he fucked, and I had a perfect view of his dick slamming in and out of Aronson’s ass. Aronson gripped his cock tightly as he continued to jerk off. I could feel my own load starting to rise and hoped I could wait for them.
I didn’t have to wait long. After only a few more thrusts, the dark-haired man gave one final shove deep into Aronson’s butt and came. He remained still while his load tore into Aronson’s insides, his fingers gripping Aronson’s legs. Aronson came then as well, holding his spouting dick straight up and throwing his head back as a torrent of cum roared from his overworked prick and splashed all over his chest and that of the man still buried deep inside him. Thick drops clung to the dark man’s torso and slid down his belly as blast after blast coated him in Aronson’s hot jism.
Tangled Sheets Page 10
