C2 100 Percent

The cell phone on the nightstand ripped me into consciousness with an annoying jolt. I let it buzz a few times before I groped for it to check who the caller was: Tom. Fuck. I pressed the button. “Yeah, Tom. What’s up?” He paused a minute like he was shy. I guess he is, sort of. “You there, Tom?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m just about a block away. I wondered …”

“Wondered what? Do you know what fucking time it is?”

“Yeah, I know. Three a.m. I just thought if you weren’t doing anything, maybe we could …”

“Tom—I gotta get up for work at six-thirty.”

“Come on,” he said, then lowered his voice to an unnecessary whisper. “You’ll like it. Hey, I’m outside right now—in front of your house. Why don’t I just park and come on up for a few? I haven’t got off in four whole days … you know how it is when I haven’t shot in that long …”

Yeah, I knew. There was no question that I loved servicing Tom’s big dick, but I had a shitload of work waiting for me at the office the next day. I reached below the waistband of my boxers to touch the tip of my own stiffening penis while I considered it. “Oh, what the hell,” I said, caving in as usual. “All right, come on up. But don’t knock, you’ll wake the neighbors.”

“All right!” I heard the beep of his hanging up.

I slipped out of my T-shirt and shorts and padded into the bathroom with my boner wagging back and forth like a dog’s tail. I gargled a shot of mouthwash and checked myself out in the mirror. Thought about combing my hair but then decided the disheveled look worked for me. I flexed my deltoids. They were getting just about as big as I wanted them, though I realized they’d be wasted on a guy like Tom. Tom’s looks, on the other hand, weren’t wasted on me a bit: He was a six-foot-four walking wet dream with curly black hair and biceps I could lick for days if I ever got the chance. Though I knew I’d never have a chance. Straight guys aren’t into having their arms licked.

See, Tom’s got the biggest cock you’ve probably ever seen—biggest one I’ve ever seen, anyway—and I’m one of those rare guys with the God-given ability to deep-throat a piece like that. Lucky me. And lucky him, frankly. I’m one hundred percent certain his girlfriend has never been able to satisfy him orally, which is why he likes to drop by at unexpected hours. As for me, apart from the charge of getting my throat stretched by such a huge number, I get turned on in general by straight guys who have gay sex on the sly. It’s kinda my specialty. Occasionally you get one who thinks he wants to take it a step beyond a cordial blow job and maybe “get to know” me, as they sometimes say, but experience has taught me not to go there. Those guys are just confused, that’s all. Going out with them is a bad idea.

I went to the door and got on my knees as soon as I heard his creaking steps on the stairs. I opened it when he reached the landing. His crotch was right at my eye level, that enormous erection strapped to the inside of his right thigh by the tight denim of his jeans. There was no way poor Tom could ever hide his arousal.

His face lit up when he saw me in the kneeling position. He slipped off his leather jacket, moved inside, and closed the door. I put my mouth on the tip of his cock through the denim and began licking. He squirmed a bit and went to unbuckle his belt. I stopped him and put his hands behind his back, then finished undoing the buckle myself. I held his nuts tight through the fabric while I unzipped him. A clump of his fragrant black bush popped out of the fly. No time to put on underwear, I guessed. I pulled his jeans down further and the thick rod sprang up with a boinggg and hit me in the face.

“Ow!”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Can you see I missed you?” He chuckled and, without hesitating, directed the hard swollen head down to my lips. I grabbed a handful of his ball sac and held it while I let my tongue tease the big flesh apple, tasting a bit of salty slime in the slit. “Suck it, man,” he said. “Suck it … Mike … oh, suck it …”

I opened wide and took the head in my mouth, then continued down about halfway, bobbing up and down to my gag reflex and back, enjoying the feeling of my mouth filled with hard Tom-flesh. “Yeah … yeah …” he whispered, the articulate bastard.

I let the monster slip out for moment and looked up at his handsome face. He always looked a little rough. Seemed like he had a perpetual five-o’clock shadow, no matter what time of day it was. I wondered what he did for a living.

“OK, buddy,” I said, “Come on over here.” I crawled over in front of the easy chair he liked. He followed me, then kicked off his shoes and pants and relaxed back on to the chair with his legs spread wide and his nuts resting against the cushion. I brought my face down to them and took a deep breath before kissing the left one, then the right. I took the bone in my hand while I planted gentle kisses over the low-hanging sac, feeling his cock’s surge each time my lips touched the skin of his scrotum. He held the back of my head and shoved my face into the smelly nuts. I didn’t resist. He held me there.

I could have stayed there until I suffocated on his randy smell, but he had other ideas. He pulled my head up to put my mouth back on the head. It was oozing Tom juice at that point, and I did my hungry puppy imitation on it before getting back to what he needed me for. I went down the shaft slowly till I got to the difficult point. He pressed a little on my head to help me get me past it—a littler gentler than most horny straight guys, I’d have to say—and I felt his fleshy girth press past the point of no return and then on deep into my gullet.

He let out a little cry. “Oh … baby,” he squealed. Don’t know where that “baby” shit came from, but I wasn’t sure I liked it.

Once I got my throat open, I gave him the milking he came for, taking the entire length all the way each stroke, getting a whiff of his semen-scented bush on the down gulp and a taste of his salty juice as I gave suction to the head on the upstroke. When I got going on him and the rhythm was set, the whole world was Tom’s big cock.

He let out a series of sexy, unintelligible guttural tones while he caressed the back of my bobbing head. Then he got verbal again. “Oh, Mike … Mike … baby …” Again with the baby shit. “Baby, I … lo—”

I didn’t want to hear it, so I reached quickly under his nuts, found his asshole in the hair of his crack, and thrust my finger into him hard. It shut him up immediately. His sphincter pulsed on my finger a couple times hard.

He pulled my mouth off his dick and turned me over onto my hands and knees. I felt him run his fingers over my buttocks. Seemed like he wanted to fuck me again, which was a surprise. I’d finally let him up my ass last time after weeks of his begging for it. Most straight guys don’t even want to get near the pink starfish, so I figured once would be enough to break him of his back-door curiosity. But apparently not. His finger probed my crack for what he was looking for. I let out a little “yeah” when he hit the spot to help him out. He stuck his finger in me to make sure he’d found the place. I clenched it. I heard him sigh, then I heard the sound of him fumbling in his jeans for a condom with his free hand. He kept finger-fucking me while he unwrapped it and sheathed himself in it, all with one hand. That must be a skill straight guys pick up with their girlfriends.

I felt something much larger pressing against my nether entrance.

“Go easy, man—” I said, “please. I don’t wanna get hurt like last time.”

“Sorry about that,” he said sweetly. I felt him bend down and then felt his lips on my left shoulder. Then my right. Kisses? Whatever. The pressure on my asshole intensified. I pressed it out to welcome him in, and felt the glorious sensation of being slowly filled up by that monumental piece of meat. “Yeah, Tom, stick it in me,” I said. “Fuck me, man … fuck me Tommy …”

He rocked in and out just an inch or so. “Is that OK?”

“Yes!” I screamed. “It’s OK! Fuck me! Fuck Me! Fuck me!”

He plunged the whole thing in hard. Tears welled up in my eyes.

“Yeah, like that!” I screamed. “Harder!” I bit my lip from the pain that I didn’t want to stop. There was a delirious joy of relief each time he pulled out, and then, instantly, a sharp jab of pleasure-pain as he filled me up again.

He forced out a few words between grunts: “Am … I … hurting you …?”

It felt like a fencepost up my ass tearing the crap out of my guts. I lied: “No … it’s … fine … Keep going.” I brought my ass back to meet each of his thrusts.

He must have fucked me for twenty minutes before I felt him pull out. He flipped me over on my back and stood up, planting one of his huge feet on either side of my hips. He rolled the rubber off his prick and let it drop onto the sweat on my chest, then started jacking himself, eyeing me up and down in a way most of these guys don’t usually do. His cock head swelled up huge and purple. I started stroking in rhythm with him. He locked eyes with me as a little gob of pure white semen appeared on the head of his dick and fell to make a bull’s-eye of my navel. That was the preview. He clenched his ass as stringy wads of cum started spurting out of him, coating my chest and face with his warm and aromatic jism. Each time it seemed like he was finished, another shot spurted out. After milking out the few final drops, he shook it off, and smiled. “Now you.”

He brought one foot up to my belly button and played in the pool of his warm juices there, then moved his toes slowly through the hot slime up to my right nipple. He grabbed it between his big and second toes and pinched. I gasped. My own load squirted up over my head in three staccato spasms, hitting the wall behind me with a splat.

He grinned and wagged his half-erect flesh bone back and forth over me. A single drop still glistened in the slit. “Thanks,” he chuckled, “I needed that.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

He reached down and picked the gooey condom from my belly and headed into the bathroom to throw it away. I figured he’d sponge off and split and I’d get a couple hours more sleep. But he was back in a few seconds carrying a clean towel. He sat down on the floor beside me and started carefully wiping the biggest gobs off first.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Just cleaning you up a little bit.” He brought the towel up my torso slowly. “I made a mess.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll shower after you’re gone.”

“But I want to.” He was persistent.

“Well, I guess it’s OK. Thanks.”

“No prob.” He blotted up a few drops that had puddled in the hollow between my pecs. “So, do you wanna go out with me sometime? Dinner or something?”

I sighed. “Look, you asked me that last time and the time before. The answer’s still no. I don’t date straight men.”

“I know you said that, but what if I’m not exactly straight—what if I’m, like, bi?”

“I don’t date bi.”

“Well, what if I’m—what do they call it—‘questioning’?”

“I don’t date ‘questioning.’ Look, it’s nothing personal, Tom. It’s just that I’ve learned it never works to date a man who’s not gay—one hundred percent. Sex is fine …” I looked down at his prick lying sluggish and soft against his thigh, “… even great. But anything beyond that is a bad idea. Why don’t you take your girlfriend out?”

“I broke up with her,” he said. He finished the job, wadded up the towel, placed it beside me on the floor, and pulled on his pants. He was pouting. He slipped on his shoes and pulled on his shirt and jacket. He stood for a moment by the door and looked at me. “I wish I knew what I had to do to convince you that I’m serious about this.”

And just like that he was out the door.

“I’ll believe you’re serious when you suck my cock,” I called after him. But I’m not sure he heard it. I brought the cum-dampened towel to my face and inhaled his scent. I fell asleep there on the floor holding it against my cheek.

A couple hours later when the alarm went off in the bedroom I didn’t hear it, and so I was late for work.

It was nine p.m. when I finally hauled my dog-tired ass up the stairs that night. I slipped off my jacket and tie, tossed them carelessly on a chair just inside the front door, and got myself a beer from the fridge. I then took off my shirt and flopped down in front of the TV. I was reaching for the remote when I heard a knock at the door. I thought about ignoring it but figured I’d at least check out who it was through the peephole before I decided whether or not to answer. I padded over to put my eye to the tiny opening.

It was Tom. He looked different than usual, even through the fish-eye lens. He had on a suit of all things—and, hell, it looked like he might even have shaved. I undid the latch and opened the door. The motherfucker was actually holding a bouquet of red roses. He smiled shyly. He looked good.

“What are you doing here, Tom?” I asked.

He ignored the question. “These are for you,” he said, handing me the flowers.

“Well … thanks … I … why?”

“Because I want you to go out with me,” he said.

“But …”

“Shut up and listen to me for a minute—” He looked me straight in the eye. “I’m here to tell you,” he gulped, “that I’m not straight. And I’m not bi either.” He dropped to his knees right on the landing and reached to undo my belt. “And I’m not questioning.” He unzipped my slacks and reached in. I was so hard already that he had to struggle to get the erection out of my briefs. A drop of honey hung from the quivering tip.

“Well,” I said tentatively, “then what are you?”

“I’m gay,” he said. “One hundred percent gay.” He held my cock against his freshly shaven cheek. “And I’m gonna suck your cock right here on the landing until you say you’ll go out with me.” He kissed the tip. “On a date. I was thinking maybe dinner and a movie. You can pick the movie.” He took the head in his mouth and sucked, halted when he seemed surprised by the taste, then went on down as far as he could take it.

I let him make a couple furtive strokes before I came to my senses. “Not here, Tom … come inside … the neighbors …” I made a move backward but he didn’t budge.

He looked up at me. “Not until you say you’ll go out with me. I don’t care who sees me.” He went back to it. It was amateurish. It was sweet.

It was hot.

He had me.

“OK … OK,” I said, “Come inside. I believe you.” He didn’t stop. “I’ll go on a date with you, Tom. To tell you the truth … I’d like that very much.” The corners of his lips curled into what would have been a smile if he hadn’t had his mouth full of prick. “Just … please come inside.”

He walked forward on his knees as I backed up, keeping suction all the way. I closed the door behind us and still he sucked. I had to pull him off it. The spit-coated boner popped out and rested on his chin.

“Sorry I misjudged you, Tom. I guess I’ve just never met a guy like you before. Let’s get to know each other. For real.” I ran my fingers through his curls. “But, hey, my friend, you’ve got a lot left to learn when it comes to cock sucking.”

He locked his big brown eyes on mine and smiled. “Give me a break, all right? I’m just a beginner.” He kissed it sweetly on the head, the way a beginner doesn’t usually think to do. “Guess I’ll be needing some lessons. You wouldn’t want to be my teacher, would you?” His smile was wicked and sweet at the same time.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, directing his lips back on to my shaft, “I think that can be arranged. Oh … yeah …”