Текст книги "Rough Trade "

Автор книги: Todd Gregory

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Here it is. Now shove the thing up his ass. He can take it.”

That was Paul, handing the man a dildo. I stared at it. It was long and fat. And very realistic, with veins and a bulbous head. I shivered, but realized I had a bigger one at home. Then he was rubbing grease up and down the dildo’s length as he stood in front of me. I noticed how big his hands were, and how long his fingers were as they rubbed up and down the dildo lewdly. The crowd was either laughing or jeering, although I wasn’t paying attention to much except those hands and that dildo.

My asshole spasmed. I could take it. But I hadn’t been loosened up or anything. I thought of the money again, and all of a sudden money and sex became all twisted up in one gut-wrenching, cock-hardening emotion.

“Shove it up my hot ass. Shove it deep and shove it hard!” I spat out, staring up into the winner’s blue eyes.

I rolled my ass provocatively and lifted my hips to expose my hole. I laughed out loud, taunting the dude to dildo my ass in front of everyone if he dared.

He dared. He was behind me and cramming that greased rubber between my legs before I knew it. I gasped as I felt the rubbery thing sliding up and down my crack. I writhed and humped back over it, giving them all a show and daring anyone to remain limp with my big sweet ass rolling around naked in front of them.

The head of the thing settled on my asshole. I felt it pressing and I humped up to meet it, willing my sphincter to relax. I was sweaty, excited, and a little crazed. My asshole gaped open and sucked the dildo head right in, along with a few good inches of the greased shaft.

“Holy shit! Look at that slut swallow dildo! He’s a cock-eater for sure!”

That was from someone hovering beside Paul, almost in my face. I looked up to see Paul’s eyes on my ass, his mouth open and his tongue out licking his lips. The shit! He was getting off and getting paid! Well, so was I. I wiggled around the dildo stretching my asshole and managed to eat up another few inches. It felt awesome. My prostate throbbed, my ass lips ached, and I thrust my hard dick into the smooth leather under me. Time to give it my all.

“Go ahead. Fuck me hard with that greased thing!” I yelled above the music and the hooting.

The dildo pushed deeper suddenly, which had me gasping. It was long and I was really feeling that. It went deeper again and I arched my back and sucked it in with an experienced repositioning of my ass channel. Too busy, or too lazy, to go out and get fucked all that often, I had befriended more than one dildo. I could take this one up the ass no problem.

I humped and writhed around it as the fucker behind me gave me all he could. He shoved and pushed at it until the flat base was against my ass crack. I was fucking full! Then he pulled it out, almost all the way, my butt following as I raised my hips, straining against the cuffs holding me. I felt the dildo sliding out, then suddenly he was slamming it back in.

He fucked me with it. The crowd loved it. I writhed and groaned, a slut in heat. I was giving them their money’s worth, and they were showering me with bills. I felt the money landing on me like fluttering wings. I groaned and fucked myself on that slamming dildo harder and harder.

I felt hands under my ass, grabbing at my dick. They jerked on it, pumping me as I grunted and squirmed on the leather couch. The dildo rode deep and rubbed my ass lips savagely. I shouted out loud and spewed.

“He’s shooting! He’s unloading with a dildo shoved up his ass!”

I squirmed around my orgasm and the dildo still fucking me. I was bathed in sweat and sliding around on the leather couch, consumed with a burning passion that did not subside as my orgasm did.

That’s when the dinner party degenerated into a stripping, groping orgy. I lay there on the couch with that dildo planted up my ass as men fucked and sucked all around me. Cocks rubbed my back and sides and asscheeks. Cocks erupted and sprayed me. Money fluttered down on me or was shoved under my balls and in my ass crack.

Paul was there, naked too, with his hard-on waving around as he scooped up our cash with a big grin. I floated in the stink of cum and my own stuffed asshole. It was some time before I realized the party was dying down.

“It’s time for us to go, Trent.”

Paul uncuffed me and I sat up, shaking and stiff. He laughed and kissed me on the mouth, his hard-on still bobbing from his waist. I was limp, having come three times during the wild orgy.

“Let’s get out of here,” I murmured in Paul’s neck.

He laughed again and whispered in my ear. “Are you taking that dildo with you?’

I realized I was sitting on the thing, still stuffed up my ass. I started laughing, so weak I collapsed in Paul’s arms.

He helped me out of there as men waved good-bye to us and our host hurried up, naked too, and assured us we would be invited back soon.

“Are you mad at me?” Paul asked as we got into his car.

I didn’t answer. It wasn’t good to encourage him. But the wad of money in my shirt pocket felt good, and so did the ache in my asshole. I knew he would drag me into something like that again.

Oh well, I needed the money.

Oh, What A Friend I Have in Jesus

Todd Gregory

I watched as the storm rolled in from the ocean into Acapulco Bay. The lightning flashes at the mouth of the horseshoe-shaped inlet lit up the night sky. In the distance, the black water below the jagged white strings turned green. I sat on the balcony of a beachfront high-rise, smoking a cigarette, unable to sleep. It was about four o’clock in the morning, and I knew I was going to have to let myself out relatively soon to catch a cab back to the S. S. Adonis, which was setting sail for Mazatlan at promptly eight in the morning. Part of me was tempted to just go on to the airport and catch the next flight back to Los Angeles. I wasn’t enjoying the cruise, as I’d known I wouldn’t. It seemed now, as it had in the days before departure, like an incredible waste of time.

Inside the apartment, beyond the open sliding glass doors, Jesus muttered something in his sleep and rolled over onto his back. I looked inside, noting the long thick brown cock resting off to the side of the large balls. His flat, perfectly smooth stomach rose and fell with every breath. I felt my own cock stir again inside my underwear, but ignored it and turned back to look out to sea. There wasn’t time for another round, and besides, he was asleep. When he woke, I would most likely be out to sea, on the cruise I regretted taking. It’s only five more days, I reminded myself. After Mazatlan, we turn back north and head straight back to L.A. You can get through it, surely.

The cruise hadn’t been my idea. Whenever I thought about going on a cruise, my mind automatically returned to movies like The Poseidon Adventure and Titanic. It had been Mark’s idea, one of his harebrained schemes born out of his own boredom and need for change. Maybe that wasn’t quite fair—Mark was just more adventurous than I was, always had been, and I was usually more than happy to go along for the ride. It was Mark who’d dragged me to Gay Days at Disney, Southern Decadence in New Orleans, and IML in Chicago. I’d never regretted letting Mark serve as my vacation planner, having a great time every time I went anywhere with him. It was hard not to have fun with Mark; Mark drew people to him everywhere he went with his infectious big smile, sexy blue eyes, and his ripped muscular body. Everyone always looked at Mark, everyone always wanted to meet him, everyone always wanted to fuck him. Maybe I was a little jealous of him, but he’d worked long and hard on his body, and the work showed. He was always prone to take his shirt off whenever he got the chance, displaying the huge mouthwatering pecs and gigantic biceps that everyone wanted to touch, to see flexed. But I’d known Mark before he’d dedicated himself to turning himself, as he said, “into the hottest man over forty in Southern California.” When he suggested going on the Adonis cruise, I’d been more than happy to fork over the several thousand dollars, despite my aversion to being on the high seas.

Mark made everything more fun.

I flicked my cigarette over the edge of the balcony and watched the little glowing red ember tumble end over end down eleven stories before exploding into sparks on the marble walkway below. The wind was picking up as the storm crossed the bay toward land, and I shivered a little. I debated lighting another one; debated getting dressed and slipping out the elevator and heading back to the ship.

Instead, I went inside and got back into the bed, feeling Jesus’s warmth as he breathed shallowly in his sleep. There was a bedside lamp on, and as I drew on his body heat to warm my chilled skin, I looked back at the semi-hard cock with a little drop of liquid in the slit. It was a beautiful cock, purplish brown and gigantic when flaccid. When erect, it was the stuff of pornographic dreams. I stared at it wonderingly. That thing was inside me about an hour ago, I thought, resisting the urge to shake my head. It made me feel like no other cock ever had before. I came three times while he pounded into my ass—no one’s ever done that before. I came the first time without even touching my own cock.

Mark had been forced to cancel his cruise at the last minute—a medical emergency. He’d overdone it at the gym and created a rupture inside his own ball sack, and his doctor had insisted on operating on it right away. The surgery itself was minor and routine—an outpatient procedure I’d driven him to and home from—but the doctor forbade him to leave the country. And when I said I’d cancel, too—Mark wouldn’t hear of it. “No, you go on without me,” my best friend had insisted. “I’d never forgive myself if you didn’t go because of me. You go on. You’ll have a blast, you’ll see.”

It was impossible to argue with him. If I didn’t go, he would feel bad, which then would make me feel bad, and so it was easier just to go ahead and pack and head down to the port and get settled in. Mark drove me to the pier, all the way insisting I would have a good time.

But I’m not you, I wanted to say. I won’t know anyone, and I’m too shy to just start talking to strangers. I’ll be a wallflower and bored the whole time. I’m not beautiful the way you are, with the body of a god and a smile that is so bright it could draw bugs in the dark to its radiance. Without you, I’ll just be bored to death and have a miserable time.

But I didn’t say any of that, instead talking about how I was looking forward to seeing Cabo and Acapulco and Mazatlan, gambling in the on-board casino and going to the disco to dance the night away with my shirt off and my jeans riding low on my hips. I pretended an excitement I didn’t feel. I smiled and laughed and joked, knowing that if I let him know how much I didn’t want to go, he’d feel bad—and even though his surgery wasn’t a serious one, I wanted him to focus on getting better. So I got out of the car, checked in and checked my bags, waved good-bye from the deck of the ship, waving as the horns blew and the big ship pulled away from the dock.

And then I became invisible.

I had my meals. I tanned on the deck while reading books, watching the other men laughing and having fun with their friends. I went into the disco in the evenings and sipped at margaritas while watching guys make new friends, hit on each other, walk past me like I wasn’t there. I walked around aimlessly, watching the moon in the night sky and wishing there was someone with me, all the time thinking how much more fun it would be if Mark were only there. Within minutes of walking into a bar together, Mark’s smile and body and charisma would have a crowd of people around us.

Without him I was nothing.

When we docked in Acapulco yesterday afternoon, I went ashore along with everyone else—although everyone else seemed to be a part of a crowd talking and laughing and making plans for their day. Me, I just grabbed a cab with no real idea of where to go, so I just instructed the driver to take me somewhere los Americanos rarely went. He just nodded, and after about twenty minutes he let me out in a business area, full of restaurants and bars and shops. As I walked around, I slowly began to realize that this was the part of Acapulco that the Mexican tourists came to—white faces were few and far between. I did some shopping, ate dinner at an Italian restaurant, and walked a little further up the street. It was geeting late, and I was just thinking about hailing a cab and heading back to the boat when I glanced up a side street and saw a place called Club Caliente.

“You speak English?” a young man beside me said.

I turned and looked at him. He was young, maybe seventeen or so, short and stocky with a face burned reddish brown by the sun. He was smiling. I smiled back. “Yes,” I replied.

He nodded at Club Caliente. “Is club with dancers. For men. Upstairs, the women dance. Downstairs, the boys.” His smile grew bigger. “You like the boys?”

I nodded.

“The boys dance. You will like.”

“Thank you,” I replied, and started watching the traffic for a cab. But as I saw one approaching and started to raise my hand to wave it down, I stopped. I looked back over my shoulder.

Mark would go to the club. You owe it to Mark to go in there and check it out. If it’s scary and dirty or whatever, you can always leave and walk back up here to get a cab. But you’ll have a story to tell Mark, for sure—and wouldn’t it be nice if one of the stories of this trip was actually true rather than made up?

So, without really expecting too much, I walked down the side street, paid a five hundred peso cover charge, and walked into the bar.

It was dark, as all gay bars are; a few lights here and there breaking through the gloom. I could see that there were less than ten people inside. I walked up to the bar and ordered a bottle of Bud Light, and made my way to a table in the corner. The music was playing rather loudly, and I was kind of amused to note that a gay bar is a gay bar, regardless of the country. I sat down on a stool and nursed my beer as someone leapt up onto the bar and started dancing. My jaw dropped.

He was stark naked except for his boots.

So, a gay bar is not the same everywhere. I smiled to myself. He was short, and looked like he was in his late teens, with cinnamon skin and that smooth, lean youthful type of body that some boys are just blessed with. He danced his way around the top of the bar, his big dick flopping, kneeling down and letting some of the guys seated there play with it, and was rewarded with folded bills being stuffed into his socks. He made his way around the bar a few times before jumping down and heading for patrons seated at the tables. When he reached me, he stood in between my legs, reached down and rubbed his dick against the bare skin of my legs. He tilted his head down, then raised his eyes to mine shyly. “You like?” he said, slapping it against my leg again.

“Very nice,” I replied, thinking, He’s thinking, American with money, isn’t he?

He moved away after another moment, and I watched as he plied his wares at another table. I shook my head, wondering how Mark would react to the boy. I picked up my beer and out of the corner of my eye, I saw another dancer climbing up onto the bar. I had the bottle up to my mouth as I turned my head and just stopped short.

The dancer on the bar was without question one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen—which is saying a lot.

He was much taller than the previous one; maybe about six-two with thick shoulder-length blue-black hair and big round brown eyes, and his skin was tanned a dark copper. His shoulders were broad and his torso layered with corded muscle. His waist was small and his hips narrow, with long muscular legs that looked solid as stone. His entire body was hairless except for the patch of hair at his crotch, and his cock—

Was fully erect, long and thick and one of the biggest I’d ever seen outside of a porn film.

He danced around on top of the bar, turning around now and then to show a round, muscular pair of buttocks.

I gaped at him, unable to take my eyes off him.

He was magnificent.

He hopped down from the bar and made his way around the tables. I watched him—he didn’t linger for long at any of them, and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as he approached my table.

He flashed a dazzling smile of even white teeth at me. “Hola! I am Jesus.”

“Hi,” I somehow managed to mumble.

He stepped in close between my legs, his big thick hard cock brushing against the bare skin of my upper legs. “This place is a dump, no?” His English was perfect, only lightly accented. I stared into his eyes. How old could he be, I wondered, resisting the urge to reach out and touch his lean torso, to reach down and put my hand on that gigantic cock. He tossed his hair back and placed his hands on my chest. They felt hot through the T-shirt fabric, as though they would burn right through it. “If I had better offer, I would get my clothes and leave right now.” He flashed that smile at me again.

My heart sank. Stupidly, I had allowed myself to hope he might actually be interested in me. No, he was for hire, and he targeted me as what he hoped would turn out to be a rich American. “Oh,” I said, looking away from his eyes. “I see.”

He watched my face for a moment, then he opened his mouth and shouted with laughter. “You think I am a puta? What you call a whore?”

My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “I—uh—”

He leaned into me and whispered into my ear. “I think you sexy. Very sexy. I watch you come in, and I decide, I want that one.” He brushed his lips against my cheek. “I have apartment two blocks from here—is beautiful place. You come?”

“Um…”

“I get clothes.”

He reached down and squeezed my cock through my shorts, smiled at me again, and turned and walked away. I watched him until he disappeared through a door off to one side of the bar—the same door another short dancer, who could have been a clone of the first one other than his hair was too short—and stared.

This couldn’t be happening. This kind of thing happened to Mark, but not to me.

I had just finished my beer when Jesus came back out through the door wearing a pair of faded torn jeans and no shirt. He walked right over to me and smiled. “Come on—” He stopped and laughed again, a joyous sound. “I don’t know name.”

“Stacy,” I replied.

“Come on, Stacy.” He grabbed me by the hand and dragged me down the hallway and out the front door.

As we walked the two blocks or so, he talked—an incessant stream that I couldn’t have interrupted had I wanted to. He wasn’t wearing a belt, and the worn jeans kept sliding down his hips until he would notice and yank them back up. I kept glancing out of the side of my eyes as the jeans worked their way down his hips with each step he took, revealing the tantalizing crack, the beautiful curve of his cheeks. My cock was rock hard, and then he led me across the street to a stunningly beautiful high-rise that looked like it was made of solid marble. “You live here?” I asked.

He laughed again. “I am what you would call ‘kept,’ is that the right word? My lover lives in the capital and only comes here every other week or so. I dance at Caliente when I get bored.” He pushed open the huge glass doors, and the older man working at the front desk called out, “Hola, Jesus!” He waved and led me to the elevator, pushing me inside one and hitting the 8 button. Once the elevator doors shut, he shoved me back against the glass wall and put his lips on mine, his hands wandering down into the front of my shorts. He wrapped a hand around my cock and started teasing the head with his fingertips, just as he slid his tongue deep inside my mouth and pressed his entire body against mine.

I would have let him fuck me right there in the elevator if he’d wanted to.

But then the elevator stopped and the doors opened. He laughed again and grabbed my hand, pulling me down a hallway to a cast-iron gate. He paused and unlocked it, then stepped inside and unlocked the inside wooden door, then pulled me in as he turned on the lights.

The apartment was stunning. The furniture was all white, matching the white marble floors and walls. A ceiling fan turned over the couch, and on the walls were paintings, splashes of magnificent color that looked expensive.

He shut the door behind us and undid his pants. They dropped to his ankles and he stepped out of them. His cock was hard, a drop of wetness at the tip. He knelt down and untied his boots and tossed them aside as I pulled my shirt over my head. On his knees, he scooted across the floor and untied my shoes, and I lifted one foot then the other as he removed them. He reached up and undid my belt, then my fly, and then he was gently sliding them down and off.

He smiled up at me. “Is very nice,” he said, and then took my hardness into his mouth.

His tongue felt like silk against my cock, and I closed my eyes and moaned as he began to work his mouth over it, going gently and slowly as he worked his mouth back and forth on my cock. After a few moments, though, he stopped, kissing the head, and got to his feet. “Come,” he said, taking me by the hand and leading me through a door into the bedroom. He switched on the overhead light and ceiling fan, and I was stunned. The curtains in the living room had been closed, but in the bedroom they were pulled back, and all of Acapulco Bay spread out before me.

“What a view,” I gasped out as he went around me, and then moaned as he spread my cheeks and slipped his tongue into my asshole.

Oh…my…God.

My entire body went rigid as he went to work on my asshole. His tongue was ravenous, licking and probing, darting in and out, his lips working on the surrounding skin. I couldn’t help myself, I bent over and leaned on the bed as my entire body shuddered with pleasure. I could barely keep my eyes open as the pleasure swept through my body in waves, and my balls began to ache with desire.

And then he stopped.

“You taste so good,” he whispered into my ear from behind as a probing finger went into my asshole. “And your ass is so beautiful…”

He pushed me onto the bed, and I rolled over onto my back as he slipped a condom over that huge cock.

My eyes widened.

There was just no way that could fit inside me.

He squirted lube onto the condom, then onto his hand. He smiled down at me. “You will like,” he insisted, and then he got on the bed, raised my legs, and pressed the huge head against my entry.

Relax, relax, relax, don’t fight it.

Cum began leaking from my own cock as he slowly and gently began to work himself into me.

I’d never felt anything like it before; he was filling me and stretching me… I took a deep breath and focused again on relaxing.

“Oh my God.” I breathed the words out as he went deeper inside me. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, trying to stay relaxed, trying not to resist this massive invasion, bigger than anyone I’d ever had inside me before.

“Oh, you feel so good,” he cooed, smiling at me as he began gently tugging on my nipples, as he kept moving deeper into me, slowly, ever so slowly.

And then, with a final thrust, he buried himself.

All of my breath rushed out of me in a moan, and I came.

Oh…my…God.

And then he started slowly pulling back, pulling himself out of me.

It was indescribable. I’d never felt so amazing, so good, so much pleasure…and when all that was left inside me was the head, he slammed back into me and I cried out as I came yet a second time…but I didn’t want him to stop, I never wanted him to stop, I just wanted him to pound me, to keep pounding me with that godlike cock, to pound on me until every drop of cum inside me was drained, till my balls were empty, and I heard myself growl, “Fuck me…fuck me…fuck me…”

And as he slammed back into me, I rammed myself against him. I wanted him inside me as far as he could go. I wanted that cock to fill me, to fuck me.

He smiled and we developed a rhythm, pulling away from each other before slamming together again.

I started stroking my own cock, already sticky from the two times I’d already come, and kept murmuring, “Yeah, fuck me, man, keep fucking me…”

I’d never been this way before.

I’d never felt like this.

I didn’t want him to ever stop. I wanted him to fuck me until I died, because there was no way I would ever feel like this again, I wanted to die and go to heaven with his huge monstrous cock inside me, pounding, pounding, pounding…

And just as I came a third time, he let out a cry and his entire body convulsed…and when he was finished, he pulled himself out of me, stripped the dripping condom off his cock, and smiled down at me.

“Oh, papi, what a wonderful ass,” he breathed as he took a towel and wiped my cum off me.

And then, he lay down next to me and within a matter of moments, was asleep.

And I had gone out to the balcony to smoke and watch the storm roll in.

I dressed quietly, retrieving my clothes from the floor in the living room where they’d been scattered. I walked back into the bedroom, knelt down, and brushed my lips against his cheek. “Thank you, Jesus,” I whispered. He shifted in his sleep, but didn’t wake up.

I walked back to the elevator and out to the street to flag down a cab. All the way back to the dock, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

He wanted me.

Maybe…maybe I wasn’t such a loser after all.

And as I climbed the walkway back onto the boat, the storm broke around the boat, drenching me in warm rain. But I didn’t care. It felt good.

I glanced at my watch as I got back to my room. Five in the morning. I had just put the keycard into the slot when a door directly across the hall from mine opened and a guy wearing a pair of jogging shorts, socks, and shoes stepped out.

He had a magnificent body.

“Morning,” I said, nodding. “Going out for a jog?”

One of his eyebrows went up and he smiled at me. “I want some exercise, at any rate.”

I pushed my door open and stood aside. “Well, come on, then.”

His hand brushed against my crotch as he went into my room.

I closed my eyes. Thank you, Jesus, I thought quickly as I shut the door behind me.

Maybe this cruise wasn’t going to be so bad after all.