Best Gay Erotica 2003, page 14
Sweat is trickling from my scalp. I feel wetness under my arms.
He keeps squeezing, pulling me tighter.
He starts squeezing with his legs.
“Oh,” I gasp, our mouths separating. The pressure from his arms and his legs is starting to constrict me, tightening. Not hard enough to be painful, but it is apparent I am under his control. He could hurt me if he wanted to.
I look at him. He is smiling. “How does that feel, boy?”
“Good,” I say. It does feel good. The pressure intensifies. I lean down and kiss him.
I am your slave, I want to say, do with me what you will. All you have to do is command and I am yours. I start to struggle against his strength, which makes him smile all the more. He likes me to fight back, I think, he doesn’t want a slave submissive to his whim, he wants someone who will not submit, who will fight back, who will make him earn his prize, who won’t make it easy for him, there’s no game in that, that would bore him, as it would surely bore me.
And what if I should dominate him? I wonder as I lower my mouth to his again. Surely he would surrender that beautiful, rock-hard ass to me, let me slip my cock between those mounds of muscle, moving my hips back and forth, as his head falls back and he screams with the pleasure it would surely bring….
And suddenly I want to dominate him, this tall, muscled, beautiful stranger. I want him to call me “Sir.” I want to call him “boy.” I want to conquer him, his body and his muscle and his will. I want to sit on top of him in victory, flexing my biceps, kissing my own muscles, shooting my load into his face, his cocky, beautiful, arrogant face. He thinks that he can beat me easily, that because he’s bigger and stronger he will be able to take control of me, because I will be too distracted by my desire for him to resist him, to effectively fight back.
He applies more pressure. He is smiling, knowing that soon the pressure will turn from pleasure into pain, knowing that he could hurt me, make me scream, make me concede to anything he wants, that I will give up under the pressure from his arms and legs.
I shift my legs up so that I am kneeling. I get my feet under me and press up, at the same time forcing myself against his arms. His arms give way and his body rises with me, his legs still locked and squeezing ever harder. I keep standing until all of his weight is on his shoulders, his neck forced forward. He tightens his legs and I gasp. But his face is turning red, his breathing is becoming more labored. He’ll have to let go soon, I think, and hook my arms around his calves. Finally he lets go and tries to twist away but I have a good grip on his legs and hold him there.
“What do you say?”
He struggles for a few moments and then sighs, signaling his surrender. “OK, I give.”
I release his legs and stand over him as he sits up, shaking his head from side to side. I flex my arms, kissing each biceps in turn.
“Stud.” He smiles up at me. “I knew you would be fun.”
I am pleased with myself. I have pleased him. I reach down and tug his jockstrap down his legs and over his feet. His dick slaps up against his abdomen. It is thick, full, almost begging to be licked, sucked, kissed. His heavy balls lie in their nest of curly black hair. I push him back onto his back, grabbing his hands and forcing his arms overhead as he did mine. He smiles as I lie down on top of him, grinding my cock into his. I lick his wet armpit, his sweat musky and strong. His hands reach back and grab my ass, squeezing. My legs stiffen reflexively, driving my cock even harder into his. One of his fingers explores the crevice between my cheeks, probing inquisitively until it finds the hole it seeks. It taps, which makes me twitch and moan. It outlines my hole, gently, massaging it. He rolls me onto my back and follows, pressing me into the mattress with his weight. He grabs my head with his other hand and shoves it into his armpit, and I start nibbling, pulling the skin out lightly with my teeth.
His finger slips tentatively into my hole.
My entire body stiffens. My mouth opens to expel a gasp into his armpit, and I breathe in his smell, my head swims with the scent of him, the rich odor. His finger begins to move inside of me. Goose bumps pebble my skin. A low growl comes out of his mouth, as I start to lick his armpit feverishly, determinedly, lapping up every bit of his sweat. He lets go of my head and it falls back onto the pillow. His finger is still exploring.
He is smiling at me. “You like that, don’t you, boy?”
“Yes.” The word escapes in another moan as his finger starts circling inside me, widening and opening my hole, an incredible feeling, amazing, as if it’s the first time anyone has ever done this to me, though it’s not.
His mouth covers mine in another kiss, his tongue exploring the inside of my mouth, licking my teeth, pushing on my tongue until I push back, my tongue sliding under his, into his mouth, touching his hard lower teeth. He pulls the finger out and slips my jock off.
And then the jock is in my face, he is pushing it onto my face, over my mouth and nose, rubbing it, and I can smell the sweat of my own balls, my own musty smell, and my cock strains against his, my hips rising up and grinding against him, my legs arcing around his waist, pulling him into me, my aching balls begging for release, and still he keeps it there, in my face, and then it is gone.
I open my eyes and look up at him. He smiles. He gets off me. I lie there, wondering if I have disappointed him, if it’s all over, if this is “sorry, this isn’t going to work, would you mind going home,” but he keeps smiling as he grabs the back of my head and pulls me up, and then his legs are swinging around my head, locking behind them, and my face is being forced into his crotch, his big dick hard, and those beautiful full balls, and my tongue darts out and starts licking them, tasting their sweat. He slides back up the bed, taking me with him until I am sprawled on my belly, his legs around my head, lightly squeezing, and then he reaches down and pushes his cock to my mouth, which opens eagerly for it.
I close my eyes as I taste the salt of the sweat on his skin, the sweat of his cock, and I start working the head with my tongue, and he moans.
“Oh yeah, boy, suck that cock.”
I reach up with my free hands and tug his nipples. His hips start grinding, his legs squeezing, his cock moving up and down in my mouth, and I greedily suck on it, lick it, pull on it with my mouth. I open my eyes and see him breathing in from a tiny brown bottle and his head goes back, his eyes slightly glazed. I take the bottle from him and he stops moving long enough for me to inhale a hit up both nostrils. The smell, the taste, is oily and acrid, but I breathe it down anyway, and it races through my blood, my cock stiffening ever harder, drops of pre-cum spilling against the sheet, and I want to take his whole cock in my mouth, to feel it in my throat. I gag briefly and raise my head and then move back down on it again. He is trembling.
The pressure of his legs around my head is fueling my lust. They are so strong, the skin so soft, the muscles tightening and loosening through his skin, and it feels good, I am safe with my head between his legs, his cock in my mouth, and I never want this moment to end, I want to spend the rest of my life with my head secure inside his strong thighs, his cock in my mouth.
He lets go.
I look at him.
He smiles. “My turn.”
I get up and lean back. He lies down on his stomach, first taking another couple of hits off the bottle, and positions his head between my legs. I bring them together, lock them at the ankles. He grabs my cock and guides it into his mouth. I take the bottle from him and take a couple of hits, as he starts to suckle on my cock. As he does, I flex and relax my thigh muscles, push the back of his head down so that my entire cock enters his mouth. He opens his throat, my cock slides down. I see his marble-white hard ass out of my reach. I want to smack it, to slam its hardness with my open hand, slap it again and again until the room echoes with the sound, until the porcelain marble whiteness is marred with red. He is working on my cock expertly, using his tongue and lips and teeth to send amazing waves of pleasure through my body.
I tap his shoulder. “Hey,” I say.
He raises his head, that beautiful face trapped between my legs, and arches his eyebrows.
“I’m going to cum.”
He taps my legs and I spread them and he sits up. He reaches over to the bedside table and pulls the drawer open. He tears a condom packet with his teeth and sheathes his cock, then pours lube over it, stroking until it is slick and wet. He pushes my legs apart and I raise my ass. I take another whiff from the bottle, then hand it to him. I close my eyes as the fire races through me. I want him inside of me now, I’ve got to have him, I want him to fuck me until I scream, I want to take his cock as deep inside me as it will go….
And then I feel the head of his dick pushing into my asshole. I gasp, bite my lower lip, relax. He slides in slowly, and I open to allow him entry. He moves his hips back and forth, each slow forward thrust pushing him a little deeper inside, and the resistance breaks as a moan flows from my mouth, and he slides in all the way and stops, deep in me, as far as he can reach, and it feels so incredible, it feels so good, cum dribbles out of my cock, first slowly, my body shuddering with each drop, and then it squirts, showering over my abs and chest.
“Are you done?” he whispers, not moving, still filling me up.
“Don’t stop fucking me,” I hiss between clenched teeth, savoring the feel of his dick, and he starts to slide it out and I slowly draw breath, gasping it in, trying to close my hole around his cock, to hold it forever, and then, when it’s half out, he drives back deep inside and I moan again, a loud groan from the core of my body that intensifies as he starts to move, keeps moving, and he is pounding me, harder, deeper, faster, my breath coming in spurts, gulping air on the withdrawal motion because it is being driven out of me when he drives inside again, gasping as noises come out of my mouth, noises I have never made before, moans and gasps and half-screams and “OH’s” over and over again, and he is fucking me, really fucking me, pounding away at me, and I want to die in that instant, die and go to heaven because surely this must be what heaven is, being fucked so hard and deep by this incredible stud, with the big dick and the big nipples, with the marble-white ass, who tastes masculine and manly, and whose forehead sweat is dripping onto my chest, who can wrap me up with his arms and legs and hold me so that I can’t move, so that I am safe, and I never want this moment to end, ever, I want it to go on and on, until I can’t stand it anymore, I want him to just keep pounding and pounding….
My entire body convulses as cum flies again out of my cock and into my hair. I convulse with each shot, gasping for breath, shivering, out of control, as more cum showers my face, shoots past my head, onto the pillow, until my wad is shot, and I lie there, still shaking, his cock still inside me.
I look up at him. He smiles and slides his cock out. I lie limp, spent, exhausted.
He is still hard.
“Do me a favor, since I didn’t cum?” he asks.
“Anything you want,” I gasp.
“Cool.” He smiles. “Head-scissor me so that my face is looking at your ass, your beautiful ass, and squeeze me hard, and call me names, loser and pussy.”
I smile. “I can do that.”
I roll over onto my side and spread my legs. He slips his head between them, taking another couple of hits on the brown bottle first. I close my legs around his head and squeeze.
“Yeah, that’s it, god you have a beautiful ass.”
I flex my legs and apply more pressure, and his hand starts to move on his dick, rubbing up and down. I squeeze harder. “Talk to me!”
“Pussy,” I say, reaching down and pulling on one of his nipples. “You like how that feels, boy?”
“Oh yeah, fuck you, I’ll kick your ass,” he says, his voice muffled.
I tighten my legs even more, and he moans. “Give it up, boy, you know you’re beaten.”
“Oh yeah, stud, yeah,” he says, as his hand moves faster.
I lightly punch his stomach, it flinches. “Come on, boy, give it up, you’re beat, you know you’re beat.”
He moans and cum shoots over his abs and chest, his cock spitting as his body trembles, his beautiful hard muscles so defined. When he’s finished, I release his head.
He sits up and smiles at me. “I knew you’d be fun, stud.” I sit up, and our arms go around each other as we kiss, our cum-spattered chests pressed together, mingling the sticky juice.
“You wanna stay the night?” he asks.
“Rematch in the morning?”
He nods, big smile.
“You’re on,” I say, and we lie back onto the mattress, our arms and legs entwined.
I could get used to this.
Neighbors
Trebor Healey
I’m horny and José’s not here. So I’m washing a week’s dirty dishes, wondering when he’ll be home. Dating a hustler can suck. This morning he wouldn’t let himself cum. We were getting it on hard, too, and I could see he was close. I had him nearly doing a headstand, I was fucking him so hard.
“I’ve got three clients today, Sid, I can’t cum,” he shouted, holding his cock firmly as if it would explode once he let go. I stopped in midthrust.
“Gee, José, maybe I should start paying you too. Then I could see some of that white stuff…just cum! The check’s in the mail,” and I went back at it.
“No, Sid, I can’t!” I pulled my cock out with a pop.
“Don’t do me any favors, José.” I hopped up to take a shower.
“Shit. You know we should never fool around in the morning. This always happens,” he shouted at my back.
“ ‘This’ being nothing,” I replied, disgusted.
“Whatever.” He moped. Now I was supposed to feel sorry for him. I grabbed a new bar of soap and lathered up, reigniting my cock, which was still hungry for José’s sweet ass. I started jacking it with the bar, wondering as I did how we might find a solution to this little problem that kept coming up. Maybe José could get stuntman packets like they use in movies for blood, only his would shoot cum. Or maybe he could have some kind of surgical procedure so that he could shoot at will ten times a day. He was twenty, for chrissakes—I could cum five times a day when I was twenty.
I’ve got it good and hard when I notice him, through the curtain, standing at the door. He’s got that puppy-dog look in his eyes and he’s stroking himself. He’s so beautiful, with his thick little uncut Indian cock, his big blue-gray balls, a sweet black trail of fuzz running down his tummy. I pull back the curtain. “Come here.” He lights up, smiling, hopping into the warm water and locking his mouth on mine as I grab hold of our cocks together in my fist and jack us both to grunting, furrowed-brow ecstasy.
“Shit,” he says, not a second afterward, looking at his dick. “Sorry,” I offer insouciantly.
He cracks a quick smile, letting me know he’s not blaming me. His mind has moved on to the day’s itinerary.
“Go look at some porn, you’ll get motivated.”
“Yeah, all your fucking Latin porn—fat chance.” He was busy getting dressed, while I cranked up the coffee.
“When you coming home, José?”
“I don’t know, page me.”
“You know I hate that fucking thing, and I hate how you always call from a client’s so I have to listen to some john cooing at your shoulder. Ain’t gonna do it, man.”
“I’ll call you around seven. Wait, I gotta meet my friend for that paper I gotta do.”
“Paper on what?”
“Huck Finn.”
“Fuck him.” I smiled. “All right, I’ll see you late, then.”
We locked our mouths up one more time, tongued each other hard, licked each other’s stubbled chins. I hate bourgeois kisses. “Adios.”
“Bye.”
It was never a question of monogamy, since half the time José was withholding cum, and besides, he was fucking his brains out with twenty different men a week. He only asked that I not get emotionally involved. Happily—or sadly, as the case may be—that was the easy part.
But mostly I was too busy. I was going to nursing school, putting in volunteer hours at a clinic. And I was thirty. I’d long ago lost the energy to go out hunting for it. I’d been relying on the YMCA for months now, which is where I’d met José, but even that wasn’t an option nowadays, what with the volunteer job. It wasn’t a problem, though—José was keeping me satisfied. Enough, anyway.
Then again, if it was thrown in my face…I turned to put a dish in the rack and saw him in my peripheral vision. Out my window and up two stories to a window on the third floor of the hideous behemoth of an apartment building across the fence, a guy had his shirt halfway up his torso and over his face as he pulled it off. I stared; he got the shirt up and over his head; he tossed it on the bed or somewhere behind him. He hadn’t noticed me. The drama queen in me wanted to drop the plate I was holding and let it shatter at my feet. The poor student in me wouldn’t allow it, so I placed it gingerly in the drying rack, never taking my eyes off the vision hovering above me like a saint in a Mexican retablo painting.
He was standing there, gazing out the window. I started praying and pleading to childhood angels that he’d look down and see me. It was an odd habit I couldn’t shake. I’d always say Our Fathers and Hail Marys when I saw a cute boy at the gym, bargain with a God I hadn’t believed in for fifteen years. Catholicism dies hard, or it doesn’t at all. I thought it was sort of cute when I caught myself doing it. It made me feel young and eager.
Then he looked.
I smiled.
He smiled.
I kept looking.
