Versipellem

Similar experience- was visiting a fuck buddy of mine but noticed he kept glancing at his phone- told me he'd invited someone else over and timing had gotten mixed up. Told him to just let the guy in- was another top but still very sexy- big chest and very hairy. Was happy to take turns plowing my fuck-buddy- that got rid of the recovery time problem so he always had a hard cock in him. Must have been three loads each we gave him by the time we were done

This morning at work- was all quiet so had a hairy otter-type from Scruff over. Sneaked him through the back door under the cameras, we fucked in a storage closet with the cleaning supplies. Him being nervous and spit for lube meant it took a while to get my cock in him all the way, but he had some baby oil and that made it easier. Fucked him up against the door for a long while- he hadn't cleaned too well so put me off a bit. When I finally blew my load in him it took us both by surprise, but he came about 10 secs after all the way across the door.

On the way back from work this morning. Young guy, skinny, not really my type but was lubed on all fours when I got there. Just finished 13 hour shift so was wiped. Held him down, drove it in, pumped for 10 mins and dumped. Got a message from him after, wants it again tomorrow.

[Author's Note: I've never really been interested in chasing/gifting fetish before so this is my first story; probably not that great. Lemme know how to improve. V] Why'd I do it? Fuck, I don't know. Maybe 'cause of who he was. Maybe 'cause of who I am. Whatever. But how'd it get started? Now that's easier to answer... That whole month, my life was shit. Had to quit my pharmacy-tech job before they worked out I was stealing, my dick landlord threw me out for the rent I owed him. So there I was, twenty-five year old guy, broke and on the street, pharmacology degree but no fuckin job. Well, I said on the street- I still had my van. An old black 80s heap, half rust, engine shot to hell. Found an old mattress in a dumpster and slung that in the back; that's where I slept, ate and drank as I tried to work out what to do. I'd been kicked out about a week when I parked down on Seventh, where the hipsters and the stoners hang out, trendy little coffee shops and expensive shitty little stores. Figured I'd sell what I had, y'know- mostly benzos and barbs, few hits of acid, MDMA, nothing special. Get that moving and I could look for a new place, new job. The van wasn't helping my prospects for picking up guys, either; the hottest dudes expect you to have a real apartment to screw in. So I parked the van in an alley near Seventh and Rose that evening at sunset, hung around by it looking for my regulars, anyone that'd buy the pills. And waited. No cops around, but the indie-kids and the stoners just weren't showing up. "Fuckin' hippies", I muttered to myself, when along comes this dark-haired young guy in a black Sunday-suit, smiling away, catches my eye and heads right for me and the van. Man, I was shittin' myself when I saw him coming- figured he was a cop for sure, one of those high-up agency guys with the initials for names. Was trying to decide whether to gun the van across the road or just run, when he takes a Bible out of his pocket. "Hi, I'm Mark!" he said brightly. "Could I talk to you about the Lord Jesus Christ?" What a fucking relief. Just one of those God-botherers, missionaries, whatever. I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off so I could pull some trade, when something changed my mind. Maybe it's how pissed off I was. Maybe it was the way he looked; about twenty, neat dark hair, suit all perfect, bright little shiny happy smile plastered across his face, while I had shit. So instead of cursing him out, I pulled it together.* "Why, sure, Mark!" I chirped in my best talking-to-the-Man voice. "I'm just heading home soon; why don't you sit in for a spell and we'll chat?" He looked a bit apprehensive staring at the van; that shiny little smile dimmed a little. But he must've been desperate for a sale or a convert or whatever-the-fuck you call 'em; I got in the driver's seat and he climbed in the passenger side. The alley was that dark, no-one on the streets could see in. So we got to talking; really he just jabbered on about salvation and prayer and shit like that, and I nodded and said "Uh-huh", a lot. Hell, I figured all that talking, he could use a drink. So I pulled two Cokes out of the back, and while he was flicking through his Bible, dropped a couple barbs in his can. Now, I don't know if you've ever tried phenobarbitol; they use it to kill unwanted pets, for Chrissakes. But with people, knocks them right out for hours at a time. I might be a drug-pusher and all-around-scumbag, but I know my shit; sat through enough medical lectures to get my pharm-diploma. Gave him just enough, calibrated for body-weight. One second he was jabbering on happily about God and Jesus and Moses, the next he was slurring his words and reeling until he slumped face down on the dashboard. "Perfect," I said as he passed out. "About time you shut the fuck up." I hauled him into the back of the van and put him on the old dumpster-mattress; I don't know what I had in mind at first; maybe stripping him and dumping him out in the alley naked. But I'd popped a couple octagons that evening; pink Brazilian speed that lights your circuits and gets your mind racing. So I called my buddy Rusty who works the night-shift at the local fetish bar, Saltire. "Hey Rusty," I did my best Southern drawl, "Guess what I got in this here van of mine." "You ain't got shit in your van but pills and stolen car stereos," he laughed.* "Guess again," I grinned. "Meet me round back, half an hour." I got the van grinding into gear and cruised round to Saltire; the disused parking lot round back, dark and deserted and covered in garbage. Rusty was waiting, already in uniform for his bar-shift; leather pants and chest-harness, studded boots. We're just buddies, Rusty and me- his whole smooth clean-cut college-boy look isn't my type. But that, and his red hair, drives the guys wild; most popular bartender at Saltire and he gets great tips. He smiled. "So whatcha got for me?" I opened the van's back doors; Mark the missionary was sprawled across the dirty mattress in his black Sunday suit and white shirt. "Fuckin' Christ!" Rusty roared with laughter. "You're even more screwed up than I thought." I shrugged- I was riding smooth on the speed. "Serves the asshole right for preaching at me when I'm working." I gave Rusty a sly look. "I know you like the first-timers; this guy deserves fucking up and I'm betting his cherry ain't been popped yet." Rusty licked his lips and his leather pants bulged outward; he was tempted. "Lemme see." He clambered into the van. "This heap is filthy," he muttered darkly. He rolled the boy over and had a look at his face; unbuttoned the shirt and checked out the body. "Fuck yeah, man- I'll do it, if he don't see me. But if you really wanna fuck him up, you should let the guys at the bar do him; they're as rough as it gets." "Sold," I laughed. "Your shift doesn't start til nine, and it's eight-thirty; go for it." Rusty helped me up into the van and closed the doors, clicked the light on and yanked down Mark's suit-trousers. He was still peacefully unconscious; I'd dosed him perfectly. Rusty grabbed a crusted jar of Vaseline out of my toolbox and unbuttoned the leather pants; I'd seen him hard before. Nothing special, but a nice looking cock, cut and about six and a half inches. He rubbed the Vaseline on himself and the kid's hole, then mounted up. "No kidding, this boy's a virgin for sure, no need for a rubber," he grinned, pushing his cock at the tight hole until it started to give. "Fuck!" he groaned as he got half-way in. "It's like it's squeezing me." He started sliding it in, wet and slippery, back and forth. "Aww yeah, nice and tight," he groaned again. He went at him in silence for a few minutes, slow and steady, then gave a loud moan as he spurted in the kid's virgin ass. He lay flat on him for a minute, then pulled out and wiped himself off. We both gazed at the suited figure, jacket pulled up, pants down, hole exposed, pink and moist. "I owe you one, dude. We gotta get the guys in on this," he said, panting. Then he tilted his head into the van. "He good for now?" "Two hours minimum," I answered. "Awesome," Rusty smiled. "I know just the guys." It was already hot and heavy when we got into Saltire a few minutes later. Black on the inside, chains hung from the ceiling; with the diagonal cross that gave the bar its name, mounted on the wall. Guys milled around, most in leather or rubber, talking here and there. It was still early, but plenty of talent on display. Rusty went straight up to a young bodybuilder in thick studded leather straps, murmured in his ear. Then a salt-and-pepper daddybear with grizzled hair all over. Then a skinny bald guy, middle-aged and wiry. They followed us out. Rusty had explained everything before he headed back inside for his shift. "Anyone got a problem with this?" I asked in the dark parking-lot. Felony date-rape wasn't a walk in the park; that's why Rusty had chosen the edgiest sleaziest guys he could find. The muscular young guy shook his head, so did the skinny dude and chain-hung bear. We all climbed into the van. Mark was still tapped out on the dirty mattress, ass in the air. "I'll go last," announced the skinny guy. No-one minded; maybe he liked sloppy seconds. The grizzled bear was first, quick and easy- a short stumpy cock and he shunted his load after a couple minutes into the kid's curvy butt, leaving without a word. The *built guy was different; pretty well-hung and thick, about eight inches, veined and uncut. The muscles in his ass and hips strained as he forced his dick into the young hole; the whole van shook as he held the kid down hard, pinning him like a wrestler. After a few hard deep thrusts it came out smeared with blood. He kept on screwing, deep as he could, whispering under his breath, "Yeah, take that raw cock," then spewed a thick load, half across the exposed back and half in the butt-crack. After the bodybuilder had fastened himself up and gone, I asked the skinny guy why he was last- he said, "You and Rusty and the other two are negative; I'm a poz dude." I laughed; Mark had a bigger surprise in store than a torn butthole. The skinny guy had a long thin rod that went in fast like a plunger and came quickly, buried deep and hard, grunting as he added his toxic juice to the mix. He excused himself and headed back inside; but he'd given me an idea. Alone in the parking lot with the dosed guy, I hit the message boards on my phone: "Newbie non-consenting hole needs raping; rough fuckers wanted, more hung and filthy the better." In half an hour I had five guys show up, wordless and waiting; they lined up by the van and took their turns one after the other, grunting and hissing as they climbed on the boy and went to town on his ass. One black dude had prison tattoos across his hands, a Hispanic one had a blade scar across his lip and slammed the kid's head against the mattress. These were the guys I needed, filthy sleazy fuckers to show up and dump their loads in Mark's rectum, to teach this clean-cut little kid the meaning of pain. None had washed in days from the smell; thick dirty cocks dripping with god-knew-what STDs. I'd saved the best for last; a tall bald muscular guy in his forties called Duke in plaid shirt and jeans; he'd advertised as being 'hung like a God'. You know how much that's worth online, specially with sleazy dudes; but when he opened his jeans I was speechless- it was more like a nightstick than a cock, had to be twelve inches, uncut and thick. By this time the Jesus-freak sprawled on the filthy mattress was a mess; suit covered in lube, shit and cum, pants and underwear torn, hole wide and leaking blood like an open pit. I'd had to dose him again to keep him under; no way would an awake person take this monster willingly. Duke looked at me appraisingly, giant cock hanging out- I gave him a quick suck before we got to business. I could barely manage the first couple inches, it was that big; but it tasted sour and salty and musky, dripping with pre-cum. Like cocks taste in dreams. "Who's the suit?" he growled.* "Some missionary kid," I shrugged my hair out of my eyes. "Does it matter?" "Not to me," he muttered. He wiped off the worst of the mess and positioned himself, greasing his club with the last of the Vaseline and aiming for entry. In one long smooth thrust he rammed it home; blood and grease and filthy spunk squirting around his dick as he fucked, hips like pistons, faint moans coming from the boy underneath; even unconscious, it had to be agonising. Duke's face was great to see; concentrating wholly on the task, the feeling as he buried his monster in the kid's guts. "Are you poz?" I asked, more to pass the time than as a serious question.* "Yeah," he answered between grunting thrusts. "Undetectable?" I asked hopefully. I had to admit I wanted to try that cock myself, if I could stay negative. Fuck, I was horny and high- it was messing with my inhibitions. He gave a short laugh, groaning harder as he got closer. "Nah, more like 300,000. Haven't cum in a week, either." Fuck- there went my chances of getting an awesome night of sex with Duke. I chuckled as I realised what a charged load the kid was getting, though. His ass flexed as he gave three last titanic rams, growling and grunting like an animal, dumping his thick toxic load in Mark's violated guts. My cock was hard as a rock just watching; I pulled it out and started to yank, unable to stop myself. Duke panted and withdrew, his footlong cock turning rubbery, leaning heavily against the inside of the van. He looked at me. "Your turn." I stopped jerking briefly. "Me? Nah- nearly a dozen guys have had his hole; probably half had high VL. Look, he's a mess." Duke put himself away but stared into my eyes intently, tucking in his plaid shirt. "You still want to. You want to be one of us. I can see it." He smiled cruelly. "You didn't get this kid drugged and rammed and ruined just for the fun of watching." I looked at the slumped figure on the cum-covered mattress, speed vibrating brightly in my head, and realised he was right. It was what I wanted more than anything, even if I couldn't admit it. Duke reached forward and took my dick in his hand; it was tender, almost paternal. I could feel the calluses on his palms. Gently he guided me down onto the stained bed, grinning widely as I gave myself up to the feeling. I aimed myself eagerly at that open cum-filled hole- it was a much bigger target than the tiny pink rosebud I'd offered Rusty hours ago. There was a thick squelch as I sank in deeply, the tenth guy taking this ass tonight, his muscles still hot and responsive, flexing around me. I was lost in it, lubed and slippery with the thick dirty cum of all the others. Duke's hands were warm on my back, urging me on; in minutes I came, squeezing the kid's cheeks together with my hands as the lube/blood/cum mix ran down his legs. It was an incredible feeling, better than I'd ever imagined; fireworks exploded in my head. "I bet you've been made, now," said Duke, rubbing his juice into my cock-head. "One of us." he was smiling like an idiot, and I realised I was as well. The speed was finally releasing its grip on me by 3am, and I'd tidied up Mark the Jesus-freak as best I could; surprisingly he didn't seem injured. Most of the mess wiped off; sure, he'd be sore for weeks, but no hospital needed- more than I'd expect for anyone on the receiving end of tools that big. He was coming to when I sat him down at the base of a tree in Hawthorne Park, groaning and clutching his rear. I whispered in his ear, "You spread the Word of God, boy? We've given you the Gospel of the Seed." I was up and gone by the time he opened his eyes and looked round. In two weeks, I'd sold off all my pills and got a new job as a pharmacy-tech at a private clinic in Cicero. Lax security procedures and all the drugs I could sell- rich lazy patients and fat paychecks. Life looked good. On my way down past the coffee shops, I caught sight of Mark, on his rounds, suited and strolling but looking flushed and groggy. Sure enough, he was fine- walking a little funny, but that was to be expected. I sat on the wall and waited patiently as he walked past; he glanced at me with no recognition- the barbs had made him forget it all. Suddenly he stopped and sneezed heavily, coughing and fumbling in a pocket. I passed him a pack of tissues. "Thanks!" he exclaimed with his old bright manner. "Flu, right?" I asked. "Yeah," he said thickly, blowing his nose. "Well, it's the season for it." I grinned widely and headed down on Seventh, to the docks where the hustlers plied their trade. Just like Mark, I was off to spread the Gospel.

Had a meet a year back who was mostly unsighted- was pretty good. No clue how he managed to log onto the Net though.

Thanks guys- appreciate the feedback. It's also available on Literotica at http://www.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=510565. On that kind of site, they tend to focus more on having a convincing and descriptive storyline rather than it being all about the sex, so that was really what I was aiming for. It's had a very positive reception for a first story, I'm told- an editor said it might make it into the top 100. Needless to say, if I were writing a story for you guys, it'd be a lot more intense and edgy, with a hell of a lot more fucking!

Nice stuff- very dark and edgy.

I still use them pretty regularly- most guys insist on them, and I try to be pretty cautious at the moment. No arguments that it feels way better raw and bareback, both fucking and being fucked, though.

From having a quick browse through databases and websites, there's a great deal about the meaning of the scorpion in body art, ranging from advertising toughness to zodiacal meanings. Nothing much about that design as having a specific sexual meaning, especially in the same context as the biohazard tattoo often does. Maybe it's a sub-culture thing?

A combination of Phenobarbitol and alcohol should definitely do the trick- I believe that T.I.M used something similar when doing an unconscious-breeding scene a few years back. But you have to make sure to get the dosages exactly right- taking combinations of depressants is a very dangerous thing.

Fucked a guy after I got my first piercing down there- didn't get any complaints and tried my best to be careful about it. Wouldn't be keen on taking one, though- sounds uncomfortable.

I'm with disc on that- definitely helps to be able to relate in some way. As a versatile guy, my buddies and I take turns fucking most of the time, keeps things fresh and interesting.

Agree that the sounds of fucking are definitely a massive turn-on; porn soundtracks that are too loud/oppressive can be very annoying. Most of my fuck-buddies tend to be rockers/metalheads like me, so we usually have heavy metal in the background or something non-distracting.

About five or six buddies in the local area- mostly guys I get on with and see regularly. Usually best to make it clear at the start it's just for chat and fucking, not for some kind of emotional connection- after all, that's what dating's for.

Hey guys, I've just started writing fiction (some erotic, some not) and wondered if anyone had any ideas sitting at the back of their head; preferably that they wouldn't mind me using. It'd give me some practice writing, so if you've got a simple subject/setting/character put together in your head, no matter how unusual, let me know.

Agreed- while oil-based lubes can weaken or erode latex condoms, the risk of them breaking isn't high. I've used massage-oil or baby-oil plenty of times with condoms, and they've always been safely intact at the end.

I admit I'm a bit puzzled by that sort of "It's all about the top" attitude, except in domination/submission scenes. Whenever I'm topping a guy, seeing him having a good time makes me get off even more. Especially if they come while you're fucking them; massive turn-on. Then again, that's just my view- maybe I'm in the minority.

This is my first attempt at writing fiction, erotic or otherwise- it turned out a lot longer than I was expecting. Bear with me, though- and let me know if there's anything I could do to improve my style. {Versipellem} The craziest thing I ever did? What the hell, I'll tell you. It started a long while back. Near the end of another hard winter day, freezing my ass off in the workshop ten hours straight. I was finishing up a PCV valve replacement, and my mind was already at Jack's; stool at the bar, my buddies playing pool, and a bottle of bourbon with my name on it. Tightened the valve hose, slotted it all in place, and slammed the manifold shut; midnight, quitting time. Grabbed a rag for my hands and headed out front, only to have a voice pull me up short. "Davis!" It was the night foreman, Hank- had a nasty temper and no time for us mechanics. "Wrench monkeys", he called us in private; was always lying to the boss about us, trying to get us fired if we gave him any attitude. Pushed his head through the side-window, gave me that unfriendly squinty stare of his. "Got one last job for you, Davis- you ain't off just yet." Ugly bastard was always getting my back up, calling me by my last name, for chrissakes. Everyone else, even the owner, always called me Pete. "Come on, man," I tried a grin. "My shift finishes in five; Gary and Steve are gone already." He gave me another dose of that ugly squint. "Guess what, Davis- I don't give a fuck. A fuel filter needs changing- you're the only grown-up wrench monkey on site." My blood boiled whenever he spoke to me like that; chubby fuck probably never lifted a wrench in his life. I got a brief flash of slamming my fist into his face, smashing those giant glasses; but I knew sure as anything if I gave him any trouble, I'd be out a job with no reference, quick-sharp. The way the economy was, I wouldn't have another coming my way any time soon. I unclenched my fists resignedly. "Fuel filter, you say." Could be a quick job, depending. Might make it to Jack's by one; the guys never went home until two. "Carbureted?" I asked hopefully. Hank's face split in a yellow grin. "No such luck, wrench monkey- it's fuel-injected. Guess you're not gettin' home any time soon." Could feel the anger rising, but did my best to keep my voice calm. "That's bullshit! It'll take too long! Plus," I tried to appeal to his rules, "Union regs say if I stay late I get a partner. Two-man job." That yellow grin of his turned into a sharp scowl; I knew if I pushed it any farther, he'd get me for it. So I did my best to pull up a calm, polite face while he hesitated. "Fine," he snapped. "Two man job, alright." Since Gary and Steve were already at the bar, I figured that was me safe; I could do the job tomorrow on day-shift, when Hank wasn't around to make things shitty for me. He smiled darkly. "You can have the new kid, then- he's degreasing parts in the back. Get to work." He yanked his head back out of the window and waddled off, glad to get his nasty parting shot in. I heard him yelling for the new kid, rattling his keys as he got ready to lock up the doors and windows. The new kid. What was his name, I wondered- Jake? Josh? Something like that. Whatever it was, he was seriously starting to compete with Hank as the most annoying thing about the job. Fresh out of some state technical college at twenty one, he strolled around cocky and grinning, like he owned the place. Always slacking off, thought he knew it all, bullshitted when he didn't. Someone needed to tell him a fancy diploma didn't make him a mechanic; at thirty-six, I had twenty years of experience. Problem was, he was that young and good-looking, it made my cock jerk when he strolled by. None of the other guys made a big deal of me being bi; back in the day when I was new on the job it might've been, but by 2010 it was just another quirk, like how Gary drank his whiskey with Red Bull or Steve wore checkered shirts a size too big. Anyway, it was becoming one hell of a problem. Couldn't get too close in case someone noticed the reaction downstairs, if you catch my drift; a seven-inch hard-on gets noticed in the dumb fucking overalls the company makes us wear. In fact, I hadn't worked with him at all, now I came to think about it. I made my way round to Bay Three, hearing Hank's keys jangle as he started locking the doors. I had a quick look over the bulky black Honda I was supposed to change the filter on, before the new kid arrived, walking that same easy lope like he hadn't a care in the world, blond hair tousled as if he'd just rolled out of bed. "Oh, hey," he said. "Pete, right? Steve mentioned you the other day." I nodded at him with a grunt, trying my best not to look anywhere but his face. "I'm Jake," he said, heading round to the hood. "So what we got here?" There was a click from the front as Hank left, locking us in. By the time we got the engine exposed and the car positioned, I had to admit he might know what he was doing. Inexperienced, maybe- but talented; quick and careful hands that went exactly where they were needed. Did my best to focus on the task at hand, instead of imagining those skilful hands down the front of my underwear. "We'll have to relieve the pressure in the fuel line before we disconnect it," I said. I'd hardly finished talking before he was at it; checked the engine was off and took out the fuel pump fuse, giving me a cocky grin and a nod. I'd hardly even clambered into the seat and checked the emergency brake was on before the problem started- I glanced out through the windshield and saw him bending over to grab the new filter. Seeing the way the overalls stretched over his butt was too much; I had an instant cock-stand, swelling under the suit, instantly noticeable. I turned the ignition and the engine started up; the new kid jumped and looked round. I hurriedly looked away; had he seen me checking out his ass? Probably not. I tucked my hard-on away as best I could and waited until the engine stalled before turning it off. I had to get out for the next part, so I grabbed my checking clipboard and climbed out carefully, doing my best to keep my crotch screened. He didn't look like he noticed; he unpacked the new filter while I disconnected the fuel lines from the old one and eased it free. I turned around- only to catch Jake looking away like a jumpy cat. Had he noticed I was hard? Was he freaked out? Shit- the last thing I needed with Hank breathing down my neck was a harassment complaint. It was fuckin' disgusting, but the only thing I could think of- I pulled up an image of ugly-night-foreman Hank showering, feeling sick just thinking about it. That did it- the swelling downstairs eased away a bit as I turned back to Jake, relieved. "Uh, which way does this go?" Jake bent over the hood, fiddling with the filter. "The arrow'll show you," I said, keeping my distance. "Arrow?" he asked. "I don't see one," A little pissed, I leaned past his shoulder and pointed at the arrow on the base, almost hidden between the Japanese characters and logos. "Sorry," he turned his face to mine and gave an embarrassed grimace. We were so close, all I could smell was him; that unique young-guy scent, with a hint of sweat and machine oil from the work. And that mouth of his- it probably tasted better than anything I knew. Before I could stop myself, I got the briefest fantasy of coming hard into that mouth. Goddamn, it would feel so- My cock jerked up instantly, hard and erect, leaping past my underwear waistband and pressing hard against Jake's ass. Oh, shit! I jerked away hurriedly. For an instant I thought about getting the hell out of there, but it was impossible; the job had to be finished, we had to lock up, a dozen chores needed me. I couldn't just leave him on his own- but fuck, what was he going to say? Or do? It'd be difficult to explain to the guys if we ended up in a fight. He kept working as though he hadn't noticed, reconnecting the lines and turning back to me, nothing in his face but open friendliness and enthusiasm. "Go on, give it a shot," he said. For a moment, I thought he'd read my mind; all I could think about was- then he said, "The ignition. Go on, give it a shot." Did he just wink? Half-dizzy, not even trying to say anything, I slid back into the seat and started it, hazily checking it was in neutral and the emergency brake was on. My mind was racing. It was fine. It was going to be fine. Jake was cool about it; he'd just pretend nothing had happened, or maybe he hadn't noticed at all, busy with the engine. We were going to finish up, I'd lock up, then go straight home for a shower and jerk off. That was what I was going to do- I repeated it under my breath. Finish up, lock up, go home, jerk off. Fine. I pushed the starter, and the engine started up straight away. Jake glanced down at the engine then gave me the thumbs up through the windshield. 'Looks like the new filter's doing fine," he said. I turned it off, and leaned against the wall as Jake finished all the final checks, locked up the car and put the key in the office. He strolled back to the car as I headed over, and gave me that cocky grin. "So, we're done," he said, nodding at the clock. "Only fifteen minutes- won't be late after all." He looked up at me, "Unless there's anything else?" Was he- surely- No, that's just damn crazy, my mind said. You're thirty-six, built like a linebacker and divorced, for chrissakes. That was about when I lost it. I couldn't resist anymore. My whole world had shrunk; it was just me, Jake, and my throbbing dick begging for some relief. Whether he was going to slug me, get me fired or call the cops, I had to find out what that mouth tasted like. Even just once. Trying to breathe steady, my hands were up before I could control them; they landed heavily on those firm shoulders, rough fabric under my palms. My pulse was racing; I could hear it throbbing in my ears. Surprise was all over his face; thinking it might be the dumbest thing I ever did, I leaned in and kissed him, feeling that breath. He moved immediately; I guessed it was to pull away, push me, grab a wrench. Instead, his hands wrapped round the back of my head, pulled me in. His lips opened; it was every bit as good as I'd imagined, tasting that sweet mouth, our tongues moving, touching. I pulled away for the briefest of moments, worried, looked at him; there was nothing on that face but fierce lust. He slid his hand over the crotch of my overalls, feeling my cock, squeezing the full length. It felt so amazing, I groaned aloud, reaching for him instinctively. A firm hard cock was straining against the material of his overalls just as urgently as mine was. I couldn't think straight; swamped by tidal waves of lust. In one easy movement, I turned him and grabbed at the fastening of his overalls; in my frenzy to get it open it tore and ripped downwards to his waist. He yanked his arms out of it, panting hard and groaning as loud as I was. In a brief moment of panic I glanced around; but the windows were all barred and shuttered, all the doors were locked. Hank's way of making life harder; I laughed inside at him. Bet you didn't see this, did you, fucker? Jake leaned on the hood of the car, torn overalls round his knees. Underneath them he was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans; frantically he unbuckled his belt and I yanked them down with his underwear, exposing that perfect bubble-butt. I could feel myself leaking through the overalls just at the sight- it'd take far too long to get them off properly. I grabbed a pair of shears from the tool-chest beside us and cut straight through the crotch; I was so reckless it was dumb luck I didn't cut myself. I reached through the opening and unfastened my pants, pulled my cock free; the relief was fantastic. It stuck straight out through the tear in the overalls, thick and heavy- it felt like I hadn't come in years. Jake was already stroking himself, rock hard, sitting on the car hood. Did he think we were just jerking off together? No way- I needed more than that. I grabbed him, pulled him to me, tasted that mouth before turning him around. I yanked the top off a can of silicone valve lubricant, greased my thumb and pressed it between his ass-cheeks. He gasped in shock, "Dude, I've never- I mean, not-" I was barely listening, lost in the urgent need. Gently but firmly my thumb entered him, slid up inside him. He groaned aloud, "Oh, man, that's-" I could feel how tight he was- never even had a finger up there before. But he was relaxing more and more, easing the way as I fingered him with the lube, opening him. He was moaning hard, jerking himself. Thank God- I didn't want to stop now. I couldn't. Switching to two fingers, then three, I slid them deeper and deeper, listening to him groan in pleasure, my cock dripping hot pre-cum on his butt. Finally I withdrew my fingers, bending him firmly over the car hood. greasing my dick generously with the valve lube. It felt so hard it'd shatter. I grasped his hips with one hand and pressed forward with the other wrapped around my cock, prodding at his tight, virgin entrance, greased and ready. He gave another jolt of shock, looking back at me. "Oh, man- I've never had a- I can't- we need a rubber and- it'll hurt!" I needed to fuck him more than anything I'd ever wanted- it would be impossible to stop at all, let alone go to find a condom somewhere. I pressed up against him full-length, pulling him upright so his ear was beside my mouth. "Didn't my fingers feel good, boy?" I whispered. "Yeah, man, that was-" he managed, panting. "And doesn't this feel good?" I slid my right hand, thick and oily with the lube, down his stomach, sliding my fingers over smooth muscle to wrap around his hard cock, stroking back and forth. He moaned helplessly, trembling against me as I gave him a firm, steady reach-around, watching the contrast between my hairy, muscular arm and his toned, smooth body. Then I took my hand away. "Don't stop!" he breathed desperately. In answer, I pressed my greased cock between his cheeks, lube and pre-cum leaking into him. "Yes," he breathed after a pause. "Yes what?" I teased, stroking my thumb along the base of his cock. "Fuck me," he whispered. "Fuck me raw, man." I felt myself grinning in triumph, bending him forward over the car, grabbing my cock with my right and sliding gradually into his ass. Goddamn, it felt good- he was tight, greased and clean, tensing at first but relaxing gradually, accepting my dick. I started slow at first, firm but gentle, sliding in and out until he was taking it easily up to the hilt, panting and grunting. Then I started faster and harder, long deep strokes, my balls pressing hard against his ass., his legs pressed against the cold metal bodywork of the car. "Please, dude," he groaned. "Please..." I leaned forward over him, tucking my hand around and grasping his cock, still hard and throbbing. I fucked him hard over the hood, gauging his reactions, slowing down when he winced in pain and speeding up when he groaned for more. Gripping him firmly, I gave him that final slide with my hand, pushing him over the edge; he screamed as he came, splattering across the black, glossy paintwork. This was too good to be true, I told myself. It had to be a dream. But if I had dreams this amazing, this fucking hot, I'd never come to work at all. Grabbing his ass with both hands, I pounded in harder, hearing a loud groan of ecstasy; I was almost surprised to realize it was me. There were fireworks exploding in my head; I plunged in and came in an explosion, crying out, spurting warm cum inside him, pulling out for a moment then plunging in again full-length, wet and slippery and fucking fantastic. We collapsed gently onto the concrete floor, panting hard, his head in my lap. Before we knew it we were both roaring with laughter, delirious and worn-out, catching our breath. Finally Jake laughed, "I thought you were a crabby asshole," giving my sticky cock a long lick. "And I thought you were a cocky little shit," I chuckled, ruffling his blond hair. I waited a moment, thinking, then glanced up at the clock. Nearly one am. Plenty of time to get to Jack's and meet the guys before they headed home, I figured. "I don't know about you," I said, "but I could sure as hell use a drink." So that was how it all started, strange to think about it as years ago now. Funny as hell how life throws you these coincidences sometimes; after all the shit I've had, it was one heck of a surprise to get something good for once. Last Sunday we had a lazy morning in bed when I found myself thinking about that day. "I'm glad I did it," I said to myself. "Did what?" asked Jake, smiling up at me. I grinned happily. "The craziest thing I ever did."

I can't think of any family members I'd want to have sex with. Agreed- admittedly I've got some good-looking cousins, but there's no chance I'd be interested in them in that way.