I was able to make really good time fleshing out and proof reading this chapter before work tomorrow. As asked, I tried to include some hot pipe smoking, as well as give some hot reading material. Since I work for the next few days, I likely won't be able to update until the weekend unless I get home pretty early. As always, enjoy guys, and let me know what you think!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PART 2: Just a Perfect Taste of What’s to Come
The sound of running water being shut off was the first thing to wake me up. The normally soft sound hammered through my head making me cringe as all my other senses slowly started to wake up. The first of my other senses was taste. Jesus, I thought to myself, did I lick an ashtray? Next, I opened my eyes only to instantly regret it as I was immediately greeted to a stray beam of sunlight coming in through the window. My head felt like it had split open.
“So," I said to myself out loud, “This is being hung over. Fucking hell.…”
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to sit up. This too was a bad idea. I started coughing, and my throat felt like it was on fire, as well as a deep thickness to my chest. Then I felt the slick wetness in my ass. God, how drunk was I to have shit the bed? I thought to myself, but then, upon inspection, I found none of the telltale signs.
“Seriously?” I groaned out loud, “just what the fuck did I do last night?!”
“I think a better question would be what didn’t you do last night,” a deep voice asked from the bathroom.
I jumped off the bed, shocked at the sudden intrusion of the strange voice from the bathroom. A dull ache immediately shot through my ass, and then everything from the night before rushed back to me. The breakup. The bar. The scotch. The crying into my drink. The smoking. Holy shit! The smoking! I don’t smoke! What in the holy fuck? And what happened after the smoking.
I remembered that we had gotten into a car or maybe it was a truck. We smoked and groped each other the entire way back to the hotel, and I fumbled to get the key out of my pocket. The entire time, the hot guy from the bar… name like a president… Johnson… no… his name was Jackson, was grabbing my ass in one hand and his cigar and my crotch, licking down my neck as I puffed away on what must have been my second cigar. We made it into the room and immediately started stripping. Jackson, rubbing his dick through the leather pants he was wearing, watched me as I struggled drunkenly to pull off my pants. Suddenly, he was in front of me, putting his hand on my chest and pushing me backward onto the bed. Taking a deep inhale on the nearly spent cigar, he looked down at me and smiled before he shifted the cigar into the corner of his mouth and proceeded to expertly pull my jeans and underwear off in one swift movement.
“Nice set your packing there son,” he replied, eyeing my now naked body.
“Thanks, your's is nice to-shiiiiiiiiit,” I replied with a slight muffle around the cigar in my mouth, as he quickly pulled the cigar out of his mouth, lifted my legs over his shoulders and began to lick and probe at my asshole with his tongue and fingers.
“Nice tasty hole too,” he continued, taking a quick break to take another puff of the cigar, “Going to love fucking that all night. Can't wait to see it gaping after I fuck it.”
At this point, I was lost to the world, puffing away at the cigar in my mouth as this hot mountain of a man continued to work at my hole, loosening it up for the giant piece of meat in his pants. I continued to moan as he stretched me out, first with one finger, then two. At this point, I probably looked to the world like the chimney at a coal plant. Cigar deep in my jaw, inhaling fully on the cigar and letting the smoke jet out of my nose and mouth. I let out a muttered curse as he shoved another two digits into my hole, rubbing my prostate gland deep in my hole.
At this point, both of us knew what was going to happen next. Slowly, he stood up, satisfied at his assault on my former tight hole. Looking down at me, he reached into his pocket and grabbed a small brown bottle. Pulling my cigar out of my mouth, he set it on an ashtray. He then handed the bottle to me, and as I went to ask him what it was for he replied, knowing already what I planned to ask.
“Open the bottle and sniff deep on them,” he said as he stepped back and started pulling his pants off. I looked down, suddenly catching a glance at the giant, uncut ten inch cock he had firmly stuffed in his pants as the seemingly jumped out of his pants. Even in my drunken state, my eyes grew, knowing that there was no way in hell it would fit.
“Just sniff the bottle and let me do the rest,” he said, sensing my worry after taking a single glance at his package. The alcohol was still coursing through my veins, as I slowly nodded and did as he said.
Being a proper medical professional, I had been a good boy all my life. I have never drunk as a teen, smoked, did drugs or even had sex until I had met Matt in college. Hell, I hadn't even taken anything stronger than a Tylenol until I had my wisdom teeth out at 19. Yet, here I was, about to start sniffing poppers, smoking heavily on a cigar, no... my second cigar after getting trashed on scotch. And set to have sex with a stranger. All without hesitation.
At first, I felt nothing as the strange smelling fumes went up to my nose. Then, I felt it. Everything in my body relaxed, and I watched as the man above me slowly brought his cock towards my face.
“Want to suck me, boy?” he asked, reaching over to the table and setting the spent cigar that was formerly in his mouth into the ashtray. I nodded and returned the smile he gave me. Turning away, he went over to his previously forgotten leather pants and grabbed a lighter and what had to be a massive pipe out of the side pocket. Again, it was my turn to be mesmerized. He slowly brought the large lighter to the bowl of the pipe, lighting it with the flame, and began to slowly circle it, puffing and bring the pipe to life. Flipping out the bottom of the lighter, he began to press the tobacco threatening to break free of the confines of the bowl back in and began to light it once again, this time bringing with it large clouds of smoke. All I could do is watch in awe as he performed the ritual, my cock somehow getting even harder as he then turned his attention back to me.
“Daddy’s gonna need this for all the pounding he's got planned on your tight hole,” Jackson growled, letting smoke curl out of his mouth. Walking over to me, he grabbed his dick and aimed it at my mouth. “Suck on my meat slut,” he growled at me, staring down at me on the bed through hooded eyes.
Slowly, I took him into my mouth, my jaw stretching uncomfortably as I struggled to fit him fully into my mouth. Slowly, I was able to get deeper and deeper until I could feel him threatening to hit the back of my throat. I grabbed his balls and began tugging on them as my gag-reflex started to kick in, eliciting a growl of approval.
“It’s time to slam into that cum-dump boy,” Jackson replied, pulling his cock out of my mouth with a loud plop.
I stared at his massive, glistening dick, a string of what had to be precum and my spit slowly dripping off the tip. Jackson made his way back to the foot of the bed and brought my feet back above his shoulders, the large pipe resting on his lips as smoke slowly rose out of the bowl. Reaching down, he grabbed the now forgotten bottle of poppers and my half smoked and now unlit cigar from the ashtray. Opening the bottle, he took a few hits before putting the bottle under my nose. I took a few hits myself and he closed the bottle before shoving the cigar in my gaping mouth. Closing my lips around the thick cigar, he brought his now lit lighter to the edge of the stick. I drew on it, bringing the cigar back to life slowly, inhaling with each puff.
“Good fucking cum pig…” he growled as I puffed away, “Daddy likes his cock whore smoking.”
I vaguely noticed each time he called me those dirty names that my cock jerked, and had even started dripping precum on its own as the words got nastier. Removing the lighter, he put out the flame and threw it on the bed. Removing the pipe out of his mouth, he worked up a load of spit and drooled it onto my openly exposed hole. I felt my hole pucker as the warm saliva slowly moved across it. Taking another puff of his pipe, he then spit another mouthful onto his large, veiny cock.
“Take a deep haul on the cigar you slut,” he growled, shoving the head of his dick against my hole, “Daddy’s coming home.”
I did as he said and took a deep draw on the cigar as I felt him shove his dick head against my stubborn opening. It fought for several moments as his large cock pushed harder and harder. Suddenly, my hole gave up the fight and I nearly screamed as ten solid inches slowly made its way into my formerly tight hole. He rested for a minute as my hole raged against the sudden intruder deep in its depths. Slowly, the pain ebbed away, calmed as I slowly started smoking the cigar in my jaw again. In my pain, I had bit down somewhat on the stick, and thankfully it now sat perfectly on the side of my mouth. As Jackson slowly started pumping in and out of my ass, I focused on the bright, glowing cherry slowly moving up the stick. I timed his pumps into my ass and his smokey exhales with the inhales on my cigar, slowly beginning to relish on the loosening of my hole, now loosening against his steady assault.
Suddenly, Jackson changed positions, and with a slight grunt from him towering above me, my hole suddenly felt slicker. We continued on with this for what felt like an hour, but in hindsight was likely only half that. Looking down, he smiled at my hard cock, drooling from the steady slamming of the sweet spot inside my ass, and took hold of my cock, coating the palm of his hand before roughly stroking it.
“Good boy,” he let out with a low moan as my hole involuntarily squeezed hard on his dick, “You’re making Daddy so happy. He wants to see you shoot a big load for him. Grip onto Daddy’s dick with your fucking cumhole.”
Nodding, I complied and began to tighten my hole, immediately loving the sensation as he began to slam somehow ever harder into my ass. Finally, I felt my balls tighten, and as I began to cum, my back and head involuntarily arched backward, my jaw gripping even tighter on to the nearly spent cigar in my mouth. As I did so, I felt his cock slam into my ass one last time before I felt his cock twitching in my ass as he let out one final yell.
"Take all of my Daddy sperm! It's time to knock up that hole!"
We both lay there in silence as we slowly recovered from our shared orgasm. Stirring slightly, he rubbed his hands on my chest and pinched each of my nipples. Eliciting another small gasp and pucker of my hole, he smiled. We were both equally spent. Removing my now spent cigar from my mouth, as well as his pipe, which was apparently fully smoked, he gently placed both his pipe and my cigar butt into the ashtray beside my head, and proceeded to give me a deep kiss, his large tongue sliding deep in my mouth. After which he slowly withdrew his slowly deflating cock from my ass.
We scooted up on the bed and I must have fallen asleep, slowly tracing my finger around the scorpion shaped tattoo on his left shoulder. And that’s when I realized what my drunken self the night before had not. I knew that what that tattoo meant. Either this man was born at the end of October or beginning of November, or worse. I saw that tattoo twice before, both times at work during my rotation in I.D. I might have just let an HIV positive man come in my ass. Without protection.
Jumping up, I let out a horrified “OH FUCK!”, both do the shock of what my stupid drunken ass had done the night before, and the now sharp sting emanating from my ass. Sticking his head out of the bathroom, Jackson looked at me and made a small smile.
“Sore, huh?” he asked, grinning as he stepped into the room, wearing nothing but a towel with a quickly growing tent from what was likely a semi-hard monster cock underneath.
“No! I mean… well yes… but fuck… we…” I sputtered, trying to find my words as I struggled with my sudden realization.
“Fucked?” he asked, “Yeah, and damn boy, you have a mighty fine ass. And no way in hell you aren’t a smoker! I’ve never seen anyone smoke like that and not be one.”
“Shit!” I yelled, starting to pace the room, “Shit-shit-shit!”
“You ok?” he asked, looking at me confused.
“No! You’re poz, aren’t you?!” I nearly yelled, looking at him and pointing my finger.
“Um… well, yeah…?” he asked, still confused.
“SHIT!” I screamed, grabbing at my hair as I paced even faster.
“Well, I mean I am undetectable but… Dude,” he asked slowly, “You okay?”
I stopped and stared at him for a few moments before exploding “DO I LOOK OK?! I JUST HAD UNPROTECTED SEX WITH YOU!” I yelled, starting my pacing again.
“Um, calm the fuck down,” Jackson replied, a slightly disgusted look spreading across his face.
“I’ve got to go get on PEP. I gotta get tested… shit!” I muttered, my breathing quickening as everything came crashing down.
“Wait…” Jackson slowly drawled out, “You’re neg?”
“Of course I am!” I replied as I stared at him bewildered.
“Oh fuck dude…” he continued, as the realization finally struck him, “I just though you were poz since you came in the bar last night…”
“What?!” I asked, becoming confused as my mind failed to understand where his line of thought was going.
“Uh, last night was poz night at the bar… well, unofficially…” he replied, slowly making his way to the edge of bed before sitting down. “Officially it’s “Daddy Dick” night, but well… yeah. I figured you knew. Everyone does.”
“Well, I fucking didn’t!” I replied, my breathing quickly increasing as tears started to form on my face.
“Look,” Jackson asked, “You obviously work in medicine right?”
Confused, I stared at him not knowing how he knew this. Guessing at why I was confused, he pointed to the closet.
“I hung up my clothes and noticed the scrubs and doctor tools and stuff. I’m going to guessing nurse, maybe? Med student? Obviously too young to be a doc.”
Slowly, I nodded, trying to follow his logic.
“Well, I’m fully medicated and undetectable,” he continued, “So your chances of actually contracting it are what?”
“At most, 0.45% over the course of a year of unprotected sex… or less depending on the study you read,” I replied, automatically blurting out one of the millions of facts I had picked up along my course.
“So essentially nil,” Jackson said.
“But it’s not impossible,” I replied, nervous but more slightly relieved.
“Thank god you only came in me once.”
“Well,” Jackson replied, a fond smile on his face, ”more like three times. I tend to come several times when I really get into it.”
Tension filled my body as I slowly looked over at him.
“Not helping,” I ground out, “ Really, really not helping. But thanks for trying.”
“Jake, right?” he asked, waiting for me to shaking my head in affirmation before he continued, getting up from the bed and pulling on his clothing, adding “Look, I kinda get where you're coming from. I was somewhat in your shoes once not all that long ago." He looked down at his watch before continuing. "I have to head to work. Maybe it would be a good idea to wrap your head around what happened last night.”
I slowly nodded, secretly fighting the mildly nauseous feeling deep in my stomach as he continued.
“I had fun, you seemed to have fun too. And frankly, I’d love to do it again. But only when you want to.”
“I… uh…. thanks…” I replied, still unsure of how to reply, my mind racing. Surely it had been one of those drunken one-time things. I’m not one to those types of guys. I don’t do those types of things. Right?
“Here,” he said, pulling out his wallet and handing me a business card from inside, “Take it. Has my cell on it. If you ever want to pick up from here, let me know. Or if you just need someone as a contractor for your house.”
Nodding, I slowly willed my self to politely take the card as he made his way to the door.
“Take care,” he replied, lifting his hand behind him. Softly I muttered a 'you too' as he softly closed the door.
I sat in silence for a few moments. Looking around the room, I saw my phone sticking slightly out of my pocket, abandoned in the activities the night before. Gingerly, I stood up and pulled the phone out, placing my finger over the home button. I frowned as the screen remained stubbornly dead.
“Damn it…” I sighed, making my way to the bag and after a short search, finding the thin white cord and power block. Looking around, I finally saw a power port on the bedside lamp and grabbed my boxers, plugged the phone and pulled on my underwear. Soon enough, my phone lit up and a small ding emanated from it. With a sigh, I grabbed it and stared at the screen which reported 47 missed calls, 101 text messages and 35 voicemail. All undoubtedly from Matt.
“Fuck…” I muttered, rubbing my hand on my face, “Isn’t this just a perfect taste of what’s to come?”
END OF PART 2
