Cyber or real!?

We’d met in passing on a porn Web site and had given each other a couple of satisfying private chat cyber fucks. Without openly asking for it, he increasingly pushed our cyber play to the kinky and S&M. His site moniker was Bigboy and mine was Viper, and it didn’t take me long to figure out that he turned on to bottom and domination, which was just fine with me. I could also tell that he was very curious, if a little shy and hesitant. Chances were good he’d never gone beyond the cyber but was drawn like a moth to the whole concept of what we were cybering.
His site profile was scanty—an artist in California, claiming to be bi—but the location opened up a wealth of possibilities for me.
[Viper] Located in California, bb? North, South, Central?
[Bigboy] Central.
[Viper] Ah, profile says u’re an artist. frisco then?
[Bigboy] No, farther south. even more artsy. Coast.
[Viper] must be monterey then.
(Pause)
[Viper] santa cruz myself.
(Pause)
[Bigboy] Interesting.
[Viper] yes, interesting. interested, yes?
(Pause)
[Viper] u’ve said u wanted to see my basement room.
(Pause for three minutes, and Bigboy signed off chat)
Three days later I was cruising the chat room and he invited me for a private chat. I was beginning to think he wouldn’t contact me again, but all the time the moth was fluttering around my light.
[Bigboy] Maybe. But here in Monterey. Out on the pier.
[Viper] no. must be something u want. u have to come to me in santa cruz.
He signed off again then, and I didn’t enter the chat room at all the next evening. Toward midnight, he IMed me, eagerly agreeing to come to Santa Cruz that weekend. I put him off, telling him I couldn’t make it until the following weekend, although I didn’t really have anything else to do. Just stringing him out; giving him line to either slither away or hook himself. He agreed to meet, and I picked out a gay biker’s bar in the rough part of town, telling him what the bar was, giving him plenty of room to cut and run.
On the designated night, I tricked myself out in my leathers and black net muscle shirt that stopped short of my belly button, showing off my abs real well, and biked my Harley over to the bar. Chances were that he wouldn’t show, but I’d have me a fine evening anyway.
Surprise, surprise, though. He showed. I easily picked up on him when he entered. Nice looking; good, trim, muscled bod, but nervous as hell. He saw me when I waved at him, and I saw his eyes get all big. I didn’t think he was dissatisfied, just hyperventilating at the whole concept.
He came over and sat, and after establishing we were who we thought we were, we tried some small talk. From time to time, he looked like he wanted to bolt for it, and each time I asked him if he wanted to leave alone, but he set his jaw and said no. He told me that his life had become just so boring in the sex department and he needed to give it a jolt start. I told him I could do that—and he had no idea how close to reality my plans were to do that—but that where we could go from here wasn’t going to be for the fainthearted. He swallowed hard and asked me if I was going to show him my basement. I told him, no, not this time—and his body seemed to deflate as if he’d worked himself up for nothing. But I went on to say that I thought he might like to see my garage instead tonight. Asked him if doing it tied up and on my Harley appealed to him, and I felt his thigh tremble under my hand.
Out in the parking lot, he climbed onto the bike behind me. When we started off, he was sitting well behind me and having a hard time figuring out where to put his hands, but I upped my speed and his pelvis was soon plastered tight against mine and he had to wrap his arms around my bare, steely midsection to keep from flying off the bike. I could tell he was excited by what I could feel snaking up the small of my back and getting harder as it rubbed up against me.
We sped through the town and back out into a more disserted area in the dust- and sagebrush-covered hills and pulled up short in front of the large corrugated, isolated garage building I kept to work on my cars and bikes. I zapped the high entry door open, and then zapped it closed again when we had driven into the building. The same zapping turned on the industrial-strength lights hanging from the rafters well above our heads. I ran the cycle right up to a clearing in the middle, under some gymnastic arm rings suspended from an overhead beam. I stopped the bike there and kicked down the kick stand as I hopped off. Bigboy, who I had learned was really named Roy—or at least had chosen for me to know him by this name—sat on the cycle, scoping out the surroundings in the brightly lit garage, as I went over to the side and picked up a pile of leather material and tossed it at him.
“Here. Strip and put these on,” I directed, using a voice of authority both to keep him focused and because I had discerned that was what he wanted from me.
He stripped, and I was pleased to see that he had gotten the Web moniker “Bigboy” honestly. His new costume was composed of a leather harness crisscrossing his chest, leather chaps, leather boots, and thick leather wristbands lined with fleece. No pants. He seemed pleased with the outfit, and his cock was rising to attention, clearly anticipating having a good time.
“Come over here and get back on the cycle; turned facing the back, your back on the handlebars,” I commanded.
When he’d done that, and after showing him what I was holding in my hands and giving him an opportunity to object, which he didn’t do, I quickly attached a long chain to his right wristband, threw the chain through one of the gymnast rings overhead, and attached the other end to his left wristband. There was some give in the chain, but he couldn’t bring his hands and arms to in front of him now. I then attached shorter chains through rings in the ankles of his boots to something in the wheel of the motorcycle on either side. He wasn’t going anywhere for a while, now.
He watched me, all wide eyed, as I then stripped my own pants and muscle shirt off, and stood there only in my leather boots—and those busy tattoos and all those metal rings piercing my body, including the big, thick silver ring in the head of my penis. I already had quite a hard on, one to rival what he was showing me. His cock was something to whistle at, but I was bigger and thicker than he was. I could see that he was panting at the sight of me. Starting to sweat, and his well-muscled pecs were twitching.
I took out a camera and took “memory” shots of him astride my cycle and in restraints, which I promised to share only with him. I expected him to object to that, but he was licking his lips, obviously aroused at the prospect of being able to see this real-life encounter on replay. I promised to break out the video when the scene heated up.
I brought out a tube of ointment and started lathering up Roy’s ass, while pumping his cock with my other hand. He was already writhing at my touch. When I had him all lathered up and pumped up, I took out the camera again and took some “hard on” shots of my new Harley decoration. Then I set up video cameras on pods that zeroed in on the bike and the now-glistening-with-anticipation Roy from three different directions, turned up the lights on the “set,” turned on the video cameras, and came back to the bike. I threw my leg over the bike and was sitting on the seat, facing Roy. He was trembling all over, and his skin sizzled where I touched it. The video cameras were running, as I ran my hands over Roy’s torso and thighs and lathered up and stroked my own cock until it was hard and slick enough for me.
I told Roy what I was going to do to him then, and he invited me in—hesitatingly, but I could see the lust in his eyes. There was no way his libido was going to let his body back out of this now. Then I tilted his ass up with my hands on his butt cheeks and entered him, slowly but fully. He was in fine shape and was very vocal for the cameras—and so was I.
All the way in and pumping in short strokes deep. “Nice tight ass, and nice tits, Hot Shot. Gonna fuck you until your eyeballs are swimming in spunk.” I was using the language of our cyber fucks now, language that turned him on for real as much as it had had in the Internet. It certainly was keeping him aroused now.
“There, you want me. Not just in the chat room. You want my cock throbbing inside you. I’m in and you’re pulling me farther in. Can’t get enough of me, can you? Been wanting me for weeks, haven’t you? Ah, made you moan, made you flinch, made you pant. You haven’t had a man until you’ve had me, have you?”
His “yes” answers were inserted weakly, but with determination, between moans and groans and pain cut by pleasure outcrys.
He managed to pant out that my penis ring was driving his ass walls to distraction deep inside him, and I pulled my cock toward the surface until he could feel the ring dragging back and forth across his prostate. He threw back his head and screamed in ecstasy, the reality obviously living up to what he’d imagined and was seeking.
And I pumped and pumped and pumped, showing off for the cameras—covering his torso and thighs with my searching hands and brutalizing his nipples and armpits with my teeth. When I was about to blow, I withdrew, stood up, and sent my cream flying all over his chest and belly, good footage for the cameras.
I then got up and switched off the cameras. I went back to the cycle with a damp cloth and wiped Roy down and then I wiped myself down. I did this all in silence, listening to Roy’s panting and groaning as he rattled the chains holding him on the back of the Harley and came to grips with his fantasy turning into reality. He probably wondered if it was over, but I wasn’t ready to let him go yet—not by a long shot.
I glided around the garage in fluid motions, with Roy’s lustful eyes following my every move, working myself up for what he’d learn was a grand finale, recharging my load.
After several minutes, I went back over to Roy and wrapped a studded leather ring around the base of his cock, ensuring that he would remain hard for the cameras when he got hard again. Then he watched me as I encased my own cock in a special sort of sheath and strapped an apparatus around my head and over my mouth, that, when it was in place, made me look like I had big, thick, black lips. I moved my new set of lips up and down, making sure that the device moved with me properly. Then I turned the video cameras back on and went back to the bike, once more throwing my leg over the saddle and facing Roy. I didn’t make him wait long to learn what my new lips were for.
The lip device was electrically charged, with batteries and emitted a low-level current that registered at just above the tingle stage. It did have an electrical zap feel to it, but only just at the threshold of being painful.
My torso muscles rippled for the cameras and Roy screamed out in agony and ecstasy, as I started to kiss him with those lips from his neck to his pits and biceps, across his chest to his nipples, and down his sternum to his belly, navel, pubic region, thighs, and cock and balls, sending slight electric shocks into him wherever they touched. Pleasure mixed with pain, causing Roy to jerk slightly for the cameras with each touch of the lips. Electric pinpricks to his tender inner thighs, on his butt cheeks, across his perineum, on his balls, and firmly applied to the rim of his asshole. He jerked and jumped and cried out with each touch.
Then Roy found out about that sheath covering my cock. I tilted up his ass with hands under his butt. My cock slid into him again, and he found that the sheath was electrified too. But the voltage here was higher. I was manually operating the jolts somehow, applying the first one as I slid my penis ring over his prostate, causing his whole torso to lift off the bike handles in pain and arousal and sending him into spasms that had barely subsided when the second jolt hit him, all along the ass canal some five inches down; another half inch and another jolt. My lips went to his nipples and held onto them, one after another, sending electrical shocks into him there. Six and half inches of my cock’s journey up his canal and another, stronger, more prolonged jolt. It lifted his torso off the bike and took me with him.
He was bucking like a rodeo stallion now. I wrapped my arms around his waist and rode with him, giving the muffled shout through my electrified lips, “Whooeee! Ride ‘em, Cowboy!”
Seven inches in and a jolt that made him spew his hot lead all over my belly, and eight and a half inches in, I filled him with even hotter lead of my own.
We lay there, arms and legs entwined, astride the Harley, panting and moaning and coming down off our electric high. I removed the apparatus from my head and nuzzled my own lips into the sweat-drenched hollow of his neck.
“So, how does the real thing stack up to the cyber fucking?” I whispered in his ear.
“Amazing. Can I see what you’ve got waiting for me in your basement now?” he croaked back at me between heavy pants.

the piss slit

note: personally i’m not into BDSM, (at least not like below, let’s call it i like vanilla BDSM) and my imagination doesn’t work like this so honestly i just edited what you read below!

I had returned voluntarily to his basement room, as he knew I would. My hands were handcuffed to the brass headboard welded to the wall, and I was kneeling, facing the wall, on a stained mattress. We were beyond the spankings and light lashings that had made my tender ass, inner thighs, and cock and balls red, swollen, and ultrasensitive to the touch. We were even beyond the soothing and arousing attention his lips and tongue had paid to my swollen thighs, tender kissings that had crescendoed to bitings that had me screaming for mercy, and then to the rimming and invasion of my asshole with his searching tongue with its tantalizing knobbed stud. We were now on to a new phase. He knelt between my thighs, very close into me now, the studs of the leather harness criss-crossing his bulging chest rubbing against my shoulder blades, his rock-hard cock, with its pierced head ring rubbing between my swollen thighs. He had one hand firmly palmed on my lower belly, holding my ass into his pelvis, and he held a purple silicone ribbed and nubbed dildo in his other hand, pressing it between my lips. I took it in as I would have willingly taken in his cock and I made love to it as I knew he wanted me to, taking in its measure, knowing that it soon would be working its thick eight inches or more into my puckered hole.
The dark angel was humming. He had done this before when he was engrossed in what he was doing and when he was being especially aroused by the activity. I had learned in our earlier session that this marked his being in a zone of his own while he worked my body.
He pulled the moistened dildo from between my lips and sat back on his haunches briefly, lathering the tool up with lube, all the time telling me how nice my body was and how he was going to play me like a violin. No, he said, not like a violin. That was too refined. He was going to work me like a factory machine, roughly and strongly, one that worked with a punching rod, pistoning the rod inside it endlessly and forcefully. I moaned at the image he was providing and longed for him to cover me once again, to hold me close and dominate me. And then he was covering me again, and I felt the bulbous-capped end of the silicone dildo against my throbbing asshole. He told me not to hold back in voicing my responses,  I lurched and arched my back and cried out my mixed pain and ecstasy from the moment the slick dildo entered me, until it had screwed in all the way to the hilt. I screamed out the stretching and rubbing and rough digging it was doing as I felt each ripple and nub working the walls of my canal. All the time he was telling me how the dildo was nothing as a take-no-prisoners invader as his own cock would be, and he soon was proving that. He made me stand up on the mattress, my legs spread wide, and my torso slanted down to where my hands were cuffed to the wall, and exchanged the swirling rotation of the dildo for his own thicker and longer cock. I groaned and grunted and screamed out again in both fear and welcome as his heavily veined cock, with that ring in the tip plowed up into me.
When I felt the studs of the cock ring at his root attack the rim of my hole, he covered my nipples with both his hands and started to worry them with his pinching fingers and nails. Then he leaned his lips up to my ear and asked me if I was ready for the piston machine to be turned on. I moaned back my desire for him to take me long and hard and furiously, and then I cried out once more as he bit my ear lobe and continued chewing lightly on that as he began to pump me hard, in long strokes, punishing my ass walls with that twirling cock ring of his. My knees gave up to the onslaught of his vigorous fucking, and I collapsed down onto the mattress, the dark angel coming down with me, without losing purchase on my hole. He covered me close from on top and kept pistoning his rod into me. I was pushing my ass back at him with each stroke, which caused my engorged dick to slide across the mattress, and, at length I added my own cum stain to the mattress to join that of so many who had preceded me there.With a lurch and a cry of victory, the dark angel  spent himself within me, and we lay there panting and sighing until we had regained a regular pattern of breathing.  While he was uncuffing me and leading me off to the shower, he said, “Dress after we’ve showered and then I want to take you somewhere.”
I was mildly disappointed, because in our previous session, it had been after we had showered that he had really shown me what I had been missing for so long in arousal and a fantastic fuck. But he was the boss. After we showered, he fed me, telling me that I’d want to build up all the strength I could for his surprise and then we were on his motorcycle and moving into an even more “iffy” part of the city than where his digs were located.
He pulled up in a warehouse district and we entered a nondescript door in a blank wall and followed the stairs to the basement. We were in a low-ceilinged, smoke-filled room that was teeming with men in various stages of undress, arousal, and release activity. There were bars set up on three sides, and small tables with chairs, most occupied, not all by a single person, all circling around a center platform, with a spotlight shining down.
Two men were performing on the platform. There was a wedge-like cushion in the center of the platform, with arm and leg restraints at each corner. A youngish, lithe red-headed guy was reclining on the wedge, ass tilted up on the higher end of the slant, and torso draped back toward the lower end, with head propped up on a slightly elevated end. His arms were bent up and his wrists were cuffed in the restraints on the sides of the wedge beside his head. His torso was stretched out fully to show off his fine musculature. His ankles were cuffed at the sides of the other end of the wedge, although there were lines attached to the wedge that permitted the wide spreading of the young man’s legs. A burlier, muscle-bound, completely hairless man, wearing a headsman-style mask that covered his head and came down to below his eyes was hovering between the young man’s legs. I could tell the young man was both beleaguered and enjoying himself by the screaming he was doing.
I no more than gathered the impression that the burly man was covered with jewelry piercings and that the trussed youth had one of the longest dongs I’d ever seen, however, before the dark angel pulled me over to one of the bars, perched on a barstool, and pulled my ass into his pelvis between his spread and possessing legs. He encased his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder. He had ordered beers while he was folding my body into his, and while we waited for them to arrive, my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, undulating with men in heat and full rut, many of their eyes riveted on the stage. As the dark angel worked his hand under the waistband of my trousers, cupped my balls, and played with my cock, my attention went back to the stage, where I saw the young man straining his muscles, his head thrown back, emitting loud moans from a slack, stretched mouth. And then I saw why, and I involuntarily tensed inside the dark angel’s embrace. The burly dominator was kneeling at the end of the high side of the wedge, between the receiver’s wide-spread, cuffed legs. He was holding the end of a silver, curved, rather thin wand between two of his fingers. And he was slowly pushing it into the piss slit of the young man. As it slid in farther, the young man was panting hard and crying out a series of “yeses,” which was the only indication I had that he was enjoying this invasion of the most intimate area of his body. The burly man twirled the wand slighting inside the slit, and the young man groaned and grunted his ecstasy. And then the wand was being extracted—slowly and dramatically. A sigh went through the audience. When extracted, it looked like a good six inches had been inside the slit. I felt like I couldn’t breath and discovered that this was largely because the dark angel was holding me tight, almost smothering me in his embrace. And he was humming softly to himself.
I wiggled and his embrace slackened, but it tightened up again as we both watched the burly man take a thicker and slightly longer wand from a case and slowly insert that inside the slit in the younger man’s cock, now harder and even longer than before. The younger man strained at his cuffs and screamed to the ceiling. Once more a slide in and a swirl and the wave of a heavy sigh across the audience. And then the long slide out. The third wand was even thicker. The youth’s piss slit was being stretched open to where I could see, even from the distance that I was standing, that the hole was gaping.
I closed my eyes tight as this third wand disappeared inside the young man’s penis. I couldn’t watch this; I didn’t even want to think of this. My own penis was feeling the pain in sympathy—or so I thought until I realized that the dark angel had a finger at my piss slit and was trying to force the finger into me.
I tensed once more and the dark angel whispered in my ear, “So what do you think?”
“What do I think?” I whispered back dumfoundedly. “What do I think of what’s happening up there?”
“It’s called sounding,” the dark angel murmured. “I take it you aren’t impressed.”
“Impressed is not the word for it,” I said with a moan, which told him all he needed to know about what I thought about it.
He changed tactics, “I meant, though, what you think of the restraint wedge. Does that look like fun?”
“Yes, yes, it does,” I admitted, opening my eyes again to take another look at the wedge, and seeing the fourth, thicker wand being inserted.
While this wand was going in, the young man, who had remained calm for the third wand, cried out again, declaring that he was about to cum—to get the wand out. And the burly man followed the direction and slid the wand out just ahead of a prodigious spurting of semen onto the burly man’s belly. Amid scattered applause in the audience, the burly man laughed, licked off the young man’s penis and started forcing a pinkie finger into the now greatly enlarged piss slit. The young man was moaning and writhing again.
“Well, that’s why we’re really here,” the dark angel returned to our conversation. “I’ve rented a cell here for this afternoon. It features one of those wedges.”
He stopped in mid thought, however, the attention of both of us going to the stage now. The young man was being uncuffed, the wedge was pushed off the stage, and it was replaced with a thicker rectangle. Some sort of pillowy-padded platform with cuffs at the four corners again. The young red head went down on this on his belly and his wrists were cuffed at the upper corners. His legs were bent up on the sides of the platform, with his upper thighs strapped at the sides and the ankles cuffed in close to the bottom corners. This arrangement presented his ass to the bottom edge of the platform, and his long dong hanging down the bottom edge. The burly man was kneeling at the young man’s ass and was tonguing his hole and stroking down on his cock.
“As I was saying,” the dark angel went on. “Are you interested in trying a wedge?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
As we worked our way through the crowd to a door at the other side of the room, the burly man was working his cock into the ass of the young red head. He had one palm pushing down on the small of the young man’s back and had the other fist buried in the young man’s flowing main, pulling his head back, so everyone could see the contortions on his face and clearly hear his cries as the burly man’s cock plowed into him.
I was all atremble when we reached the small cell. Only a centered platform supporting another one of those wedges occupied the room. The dark angel slowly undressed me and cuffed me, facing up, on the wedge. The wedge was extremely comfortable and sensual. Then as I watched, he undressed himself. He looked good and evil, and I started to precum at the mere sight of that thick dong with the ring.
Then he did the unexpected. He blindfolded me.
I objected, but he said he wanted me to experience everything this time from just the sensation of touch. He crouched over me and kissed me on the lips. Then he kissed me on each nipple in turn—right before he attached clamps to my nipples. This was an entirely new, not fully pleasant experience, for me, and I whimpered a bit, but he was humming now. I could tell that I was going to be entirely at his mercy. And this is what I had wanted. I was addicted. I wanted to experience the edges of arousal and sexual stimulation. As I relaxed and he thumbed the nipple clamps, I began to enjoy what they were doing to my sense of touch.  He was tonguing and biting my inner thighs now and working his way to my asshole. When he thought me prepared, he started fucking me. He was riding me bareback now, and the sensation of his veined and ringed cock sliding across my ass canal walls had me moaning and groaning in appreciation. He was digging his fingernails into my thighs, and every once in a while lifting a hand to tweak the nipple clamps, hit my hard pecs with a closed fist and slap my flat belly with an open palm. Giving me a full range of sensations.
The wedge was wonderful. It opened and imprisoned me fully to the dark angel’s onslaught. The domination was total. But not really total yet. He had more planned.
Before he jacked off, he pulled out of me and I felt his thick, hard cock being slapped against my thighs, then my belly, and then on my chest. He took my lips in his and punished my tongue with his tongue stud. Then he was kneeling on my chest, between my upraised, imprisoned arms and was slapping that dong of his on my face. He forced his cock between my lips and I deep throated him to ejaculation, gagging a bit as I swallowed his repeated spurts of semen. Then he was off of me, and there was a foreboding silence. Then the humming started again. I hadn’t been aware of when he’d stopped the humming while he was fucking me, but he must have—because the humming unmistakably was back and in full force.
I felt a hand on my cock, cupping my cock at the root, on the underside—holding my cock up at a raised angle, my hips already being raised by the wedge. Then I turned stone cold and a chill went through my body as I felt the cold steel tip of the wand at my piss slit. I screamed out as the first of the wands slowly entered me there. Violation, stuffing, remarkably little pain, an electric zing through my body, my cock engorging, an indescribable feeling of sensual pleasure—enhanced by the mere thought of now having had every orifice of my body dominated and fucked by my dark angel.
“Relax, relax,” I was hearing in a soft, soothing, hummed tone. “Relax and go with the feeling. It will be so much better,”
A sucking, emptying feeling as the wand slid out. A strange sense of loss and emptiness when it is gone. Then a thicker wand, entering me, making me scream again despite myself. Tightening up, but then remembering, and relaxing. But as this wand glided up through my urethra, I knew I was about to cum. I yelled out to the dark angel. Asking for mercy. Letting him know I was going to blow. And the wand glided back out and I did blow my wad.
A husky laugh from the dark angel and a cleaning of my penis with his tongue.
That’s it then, I think. Yet another, deeper, darker experience. That was OK then.
But then an even thicker wand at my piss slit. pushing in, stretching me. Loud humming. I cry out. “Oh, God, oh God. Noooo. Yessss. M-o-o-a-n-n . . .”

I feel like…… cheating

Gate number 2, flight number 0000 to gate number 6, another fucking flight to another gate, one departed, the other arrived and I’m sitting here listening to him, and I don’t care how many planes come and go because I’m leaving this airport any moment.

“Take one” he stops to offer me cigarettes.

“No I quit and you can’t smoke here anyway.” I point to the no smoking sign.

He goes on putting the pack back into his pocket:” you know he’s a nice person who wants to be in charge of everything, a gaydaddy you know. I’m not interested in having it with my dad or someone his age.”

I nod but I’m not listening to him, I’m thinking of my own life that always gets creepy all at the same time. He’s still talking; actually he’s going for his third beer.

“he’s 47 and he never tried to be top, can you believe it?” now he’s staring at me waiting for a comment, what can I say? I had enough sex to find that next to impossible not to give it a try at least once and now he’s talking to me like a callboy but I know he’s still a V himself, for hell’s sake who calls oral sex losing your cherry?!

“I guess I can believe what you say, he looked like one, so are you dumping him?” I shoot my words with a big smile cos I can hardly read his mind.

“You know I’d never been with any man before, I was just this naïve boy ready to submit my body to whoever gives an offer. I wasn’t sure about my feeling, you know. Not until I met you. You, you gave me the idea that it can be nice to love another guy and it’s so natural. You know you’re a nice person; you’re too good to be his. If only we’ve met sooner.” He goes for another sip and I’m feeling pretty uncomfortable with his tone and never ending “you know”s, I feel I have to go but I’m to angry to do anything, even mentioning him indirectly make my blood boil. I sit and do nothing than putting my hand on his knee.

He’s finished with his can and he has his hand free to put on mine. He starts talking and I have to listen:” you know I was staying with him for a few days and one night he suggested sharing his bed. I thought it was a good late move because I’ve been waiting for that since I got on the plane and came here. I wanted to get rid of my clothes but then I thought it was better to let him do it. He just jumped on the bed and started kissing me, I wanted to eat him, bite him, taste him but he just wanted to touch my cheeks, at last he kissed me on the lips, I really didn’t know how pushy I was, I did want to taste him and at last he let me, I tell you it was horrible, he could at least brush his teeth, you know you tasted so good. I never forget your taste, your smell, I’m so happy you were my first kiss.” He tried to touch my lips with his finger; I stopped him in mid air. That kiss was something really lustful I felt guilty for a long time. It wasn’t my fault he had a crush on me, I didn’t. I just thought he was cute or I was just tired of dating people my age or older at that time.

“Do you want me to go on?” he asked.

I replied: “yeah, sure. I think I have one more hour to spare. I can go back to work before lunch time.”

He goes on:” you know it was all silly, we took our own clothes off and jumped under the blanket in a dark room. I started touching his nipples, then went for his crotch and it was all hairy, all disgusting. He could do a few things to make him look better. And the funny thing is that with a little touch he was moaning and breathing hard. It was so silly cos we didn’t even do anything. He said he wanted me in his ass and I told him I didn’t want cos with all those hair everywhere and smelling sweat I really didn’t want to get inside his shit hole.” He pauses to take a look at his watch.

“What did you do then?” I ask just trying to make him finish his rants and let me go.

“Nothing much. I’ve watched lots of porn. Hey you two still don’t like watching porn?” he asks wickedly and I still remember the dvd he gave my partner on his birthday and how mad he was. Thinking about those crazy times make me angrier, I feel I hate him more and more.

“Not really. We don’t have much time for that stuff.” That was the lamest excuse I can make and I know it myself.

He puts his hand on my leg and starts scratching the denim. “You were talking about your night?” I’m tired now.

“yes, actually he wasn’t good for me. I licked him a little bit and he came really quickly. He wanted to give me a blowjob but I felt so bad licking his cock and tasting his cum a little bit I want to the bathroom and puked all my dinner. Is it always like this? I mean those guys swallow and suck like they’re having the most delicious thing in the world.”

“Well, it’s just porn and they’re models. Actually it can be something really good but you want it clean, don’t you?” sometimes telling the truth can be hard. So he stays silent for a while trying to make his mind what to say next. I’m bored with his boring rants about his boring boyfriend and well I didn’t tell him to date someone the age of his dad.

He moves his head close enough to whisper something I can hardly hear: “and you’re clean, right? I know you shave all the hair on your body. I’ve seen your long beautiful legs when hanging from those holds and ropes.”

He sounds so funny “you’re so stupid. Yes I shave but no one 5’ 10” can have long beautiful legs. And you looked really gripped all the time.” I try to change the topic.

He gets closer and I can feel his breath now. Then he bends as if trying to tie his laces putting his hand on my inner thigh he stays there a few seconds exploring more of my thigh before he comes up. “if I had just a day to live, I love to see you naked. I wonder how big you are. You must be a really big cos bony guys have bigger boners.”

He’s really turning me on, he’s leaving and we may never see each other again or any time soon.

“Let’s go to the men’s room” I say and stand up to leave him. He looks puzzled, I go for the restroom and he follows me. It’s not too far and it’s empty. I push him to the wall and kiss him, deep down his throat he can feel my tongue. He can say I taste good cos I couldn’t chaw more gums in the same day. He looks breathless but I don’t want to let him go. He has to do something for what he asked for. I bit his lip a little. How much I wanted to wake him up and kiss him this morning but well he had no right to tell me what to do, I really hated him. For a second I was feeling guilty, I was kissing another guy and I was thinking of him. He always tasted good, different, he found a new taste to surprise me, it was more fun to play with his tongue before getting my little surprise and I liked chocolates most.

I wrap my arms round his body and he submits. It sounds weird but probably he felt the same when I gave him my body, heart and soul. I know I can be dominant a bit but I prefer letting him do whatever he likes. But this guy is different, he asked for something and now I wanna be the one in charge, I enjoy seeing his young face belonging to me, his mind doing as I tell him. I have no feeling for him than trying to get rid of all the anger and hatred I stored in my heart since last night. Someone must pay for it!

I let him go to grab some tissues and he starts breathing better.

I get close to him one more time. “jesus you tasted a lot better than last time, how can you do this?” I wave my Wrigley’s in front of his eyes and smile. I like the flavors he chooses for me, once I made him look for the green ones I like for 2 hours. No I hate him.

He lays his back to the wall and put his hand on the front of my jeans, I cant and don’t want to hide my bulge. He moves his fingers up and down trying to imagine how it looks like. I grab his hand and put his fingers in my mouth, sucking one by one imagining it’s his cock, I love his cock and how he cum on my face, I like swallowing him, how much I miss him.

But he’s not here, I can see just lust, unzipping his pants and digging inside his underwear I find his waiting cock. I grab it with the tissue and probably I can hurt him a bit; I don’t care and he doesn’t care either. He has his eyes closed, his head leaning against the wall and his body arching a little as I move my hand up and down his cock.

I like hearing his moans and more than that I just want to give him the gift of cuming in my hand. I move my hand faster and squeezing him with my finger, he cant hold it any longer, without thinking I put my hand on his mouth and he cums and cums and cums . this boy must jerk off every now and then or his stored cum may kill him.

I look at his soft sworn dick and then the tissues in my hand, urrgghh I throw them to the trash bin and wash my hands several times but it seems I can’t get them clean.

What have I done? What the hell I’m doing here? I can’t believe I cheated on the only man I love on this big planet. He gave me all his heart and what did I do? I run out of the restroom without turning my head. I feel sick of myself and I can’t fix it anymore.