Do You Want Me to Fuck You?
It was a quiet, respectable bar where nothing much ever seemed to happen. That was just the way John liked it, particularly on days like these when he’d had a bellyful of hassle at work and just wanted to have a few glasses of wine before heading for home to watch a film.
The background music was a bit cheesy for his tastes, but that was what you got in a place like this: smooth noodlings that fell into the general category of jazz, even if that was an insult to the greats who had made it an art form. He imagined the guys playing on this track: maybe they had dreams of greatness too, but they had to make a living and the only way they could do that and spend their lives playing music was to sign up for the lowest common denominator and go through the motions.
As the word “denominator” passed through his mind he thought idly about how similar it was to “dominator”, an idea he had been nurturing for a while. Things were dead slow on the relationship front, with no suitable women in his circle and somehow he now lacked the spark and the courage to try to pick one up in a place like this. Maybe what he needed was…
Suddenly a commotion started and two men were pushing each other in the chest the way they had seen Americans do it in TV movies. Then one punched the other in the face and the injured one just left. The hubbub quickly died down and the barman took the opportunity to take orders for drinks, since everyone was stirred up.
The idyllic spell broken, John decided to leave it there and go home. He stood up and put on his raincoat against the damp London evening. He was glad he only had a few hundred yards to walk to his little suburban terraced house.
As he reached the corner, home to a bank where there used to be a pub, he became aware of a figure huddled in the doorway, puffing and panting and groaning. It was the loser of the bar fight. He looked like a respectable guy, nicely dressed in a blue waxed jacket and chinos with shiny brown shoes. He was dabbing at his nose with a handkerchief.
John was apprehensive but not scared.
“You okay?” he called quietly.
“Yeah, I’ll live,” the voice replied, breaking into a little laugh. “I just need to clean up a bit. I can’t get on the bus like this.”
John thought about it for a mere second before finding himself saying something.
“I’m just round here,” he said, indicating up and left. “Let’s get you sorted out.”
The man stumbled gratefully into John’s house and hung his coat by the door.
John fetched glasses of red wine and a bottle of water and the man spent five minutes in the bathroom before walking through and sitting in a chair by a radiator. His nose was red and his eyes were bloodshot, but he didn’t look too bad. His name was Brent.
The two men sat and chatted about this and that. They had both had a few drinks already, so they were soon relaxed and convivial.
It was half an hour before John brought up the obvious subject.
“So what was that all about in the bar?”
“Oh, he didn’t Mersin Escort like something I asked him,” Brent said evasively.
“What did you ask him?”
Brent let out a long sigh.
“You don’t want to know,” he said.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” John said. “But you’ve got nothing to lose.”
Brent thought for a moment and then took a deep breath before beginning.
“I thought he was attractive,” he said. “I liked him. I’ve seen him before.
John suppressed a flush in his face as he realised where this was going.
“You’re gay?” he said, hoping it didn’t sound objectionable, because you never knew where you stood in this ever-changing world.
“Bisexual,” Brent said. “Sometimes I feel like having gay sex.”
“So what did you say to him?” John was screening his words before he said them.
Brent sighed again.
“I think a lot of guys have… unfulfilled urges, and the only way to find out is to come right out with it.”
“So you propositioned him?”
“And he didn’t like it?”
“He was going along with it,” Brent said. “And then I just got a feeling he was a real bottom.” He looked at John to see if the other man understood.
“That’s someone who likes to be underneath, to receive.”
John grunted at the clarification.
“So what did you say exactly?”
“I asked him if he had ever had a cock up his arse. He was embarrassed, but sometimes you can follow that up and it’s the best way.” John was looking at the floor as Brent considered his strategy – not just the one in the bar but the one here and now. He had no idea of John’s sexual proclivities but he hadn’t been hushed up or asked to leave, so at worst he wasn’t interested but also wasn’t worried.
“So I asked him if he would like me to fuck him. That’s when he got upset. Maybe he thought people could hear the conversation.”
Silence fell as the two men thought about what was happening between them. Brent wondered if he should now turn the conversation towards him and John rather than the bar incident. John just wanted him to get to the point.
“So you’ve done that before,” John probed. Brent grunted “Uh huh.”
Then Brent said, “Do you think I should change my strategy?”
“Not at all,” John said hesitantly “You were just unlucky.”
Ask me, damn you. Ask me.
“Next time you’ll probably be fine again.”
“Next time?” Brent asked. “You think I should go back out there and see?”
“You don’t necessarily have to go back out there,” John said, a tremble in his voice. He felt like he was naked and showing his arsehole to the guy. If this continued much longer he might even do just that.
“So has anyone ever propositioned you?” Brent said, feeling his way along in the dark.
“No,” John replied. “People assume I’m so together or something. I’m supposed to make the decisions all the time.”
“You tired of that?” Brent asked, sensing a chink of light.
“You ever read Escort Mersin Fifty Shades of Grey?” John asked.
“No,” Brent replied. “Why?”
“It’s about surrendering control in certain areas but not in everything,” he said. “The girl is no pushover She just likes to let someone else drive in sexual matters. I think most women are like that, in fact.”
“Yes, and not just women,” Brent contributed. “Guys like to be led along the path too. some of them.”
“And you never know which ones,” John said.
Ask me, you idiot, or I’m going to take my clothes off and beg you to let me suck your cock.
John found himself looking at Brent’s crotch, wondering what it was like in there. Brent was well built, with fair hair and furry arms. Maybe he had a hairy body too. He had always fantasised about being fucked by a hairy man, although in truth he was completely flexible. He would watch gay porn and spend half an hour with big fat hairy bears. He would move on to black men with their big cocks and sense of sexual superiority.
Then he would have a hankering for smooth-skinned mature Japanese men with stocky physiques and small cocks and that way of making sex seem thrillingly wrong, a case of submitting to an aggressor. That was really what he wanted: to be coerced.
His hand moved involuntarily onto his own crotch. He stroked his cock, which was becoming swollen.
“So,” Brent began, almost sure he was on solid ground. “Would you like to be fucked?”
“I would,” John said, petrified, and yet relieved when the words were out.
“By me?” Brent said.
Thirty seconds later the two men were in John’s bedroom, having undressed themselves. John wanted to be kissed
Brent strode over and took John in his arms. It was a complete role reversal for John, and it took a second, but no more than that, to adjust.
He kissed Brent back, loving the feeling of their tongues dancing together.
Brent walked them to the bed and pulled John down onto it. Then he kissed his neck, his armpits, his navel and the insides of his thighs. Just like John would have done to a woman. But with no vagina to lick, Brent turned John over and made him kneel doggie style. His balls were hanging down and his arse was exposed.
And then John felt the incredible sensation of having his arse licked. By a man. A man with animal abandon, licking his arse because it was the most exciting, most intimate, dirtiest thing he could think of.
John wanted to be mounted, fucked, ejaculated into.
“I want you to fuck me,” he found himself saying.
“I know,” Brent said breathlessly. “I am going to fuck you, John. I am going to put my penis up your arse.”
“Oh, fuck, yes,” John said, all restraint and dignity gone in his desire to be taken by this man.”
“But first,” Brent said, knowing exactly how to play this man, “I want you to suck my cock.”
He lay on his back and waited a nanosecond before his prey took his cock into his virgin mouth.
“There,” Brent said. “You are Mersin Bayan Escort sucking cock. You love it, don’t you?”
“I love sucking your cock, Brent,” John said. “I have always wanted to do this and now that we’re here, I want to do everything. I want to lick your arse.”
“And I want you to lick my arse,” Brent said he pulled his legs up and over, exposing himself to give this guy his first taste, literally, of a man’s arsehole.
John got his tongue into Brent’s crack and it was like being liberated from everything that had been holding him back all these years. He wanted photographs. He wanted video of this encounter, and he knew how to do it. He had a camera and a tripod in the wardrobe. He had filmed himself with candles, carrots and kitchen utensil handles in his arse.
“Can I film this?” he asked.
Brent said, “Of course.”
John scrambled off the bed and grabbed the equipment. He knew exactly where to set it up and within 30 seconds he was making a gay porn movie starring himself.
Brent had stayed in doggie position so John got right back in there, licking this man’s anus. he loved the taste, the aroma, the feeling and most of all the sheer depravity of doing it. And he knew the angle would expose his own arsehole, which would soon be filled with cock and cum.
“Fuck me now,” he said urgently.
“On your back,” Brent ordered. “Let me get my lube.” He had some in his jeans, because it had been his intention to fuck a man that evening. And now he was about to: a man more willing, more excited than any other he had known. He was going to give John what the poor man had been missing all those years.
Brent pushed John’s legs further into the air and pressed a lubed finger into his hole. Then two fingers. The happy man received the intrusion with obvious pleasure and Brent gave him a good finger-fucking to get him ready for the main event.
John could hardly believe what was happening. He was being ravished and it was exactly what he wanted. Brent’s body was full and masculine. His penis was long nd hard. His balls were hairy, as was his abdomen. He was an animal about to invade John’s most private place
And John too was an animal. This wasn’t an intellectual, planned exercise. It was sheer animal lust. They were like two cavemen discovering the pleasures of the male body.
John raised his legs as far as they would go as Brent lay between them and plunged his cock into him.
It hurt, yes. he had expected that. But it was incredible. An unbelievable sensation of being filled, being ravaged. He was being fucked. A man was inside him.
“I want your spunk,” John whispered.
“Inside you?” Brent whispered back.
“Yes,” John said. “I want your spunk up my arsehole.”
And with that, the whole world exploded as Brent’s cock and balls delivered a torrent of semen deep inside John. Spurts, convulsions, writhings, grunts from Brent as he pumped his spunk into this grateful guy.
John heard himself whimpering and sighing as the cataclysmic event came to an end. He looked up at his buggerer, this man who didn’t realise how much this meant to him.
“Thank you,” John said. “I want you to stay here tonight and do me again. Whenever you want. Whatever you want.”