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It happened so fast. I had only been there for a few minutes when I felt an arm around my shoulder, and in a hot breath on my ear the question “You’re here alone?” Whoever it was, his voice was smooth like liquid silver. He sounded young, maybe my own age. I nodded. The collar my friends had made me wear felt tight and heavy around my neck. He informed me that he was there alone too, and that he’d be happy to keep me company. He was standing somewhat behind me, and I couldn’t really see him in the darkness of the club, so instead I watched the rings on his hands as he downed the rest of his drink.
I had only gone here on a dare. My friends knew how anxious I was about meeting guys, so they sent me to the local gay club after a few drinks as punishment for not doing my dishes. One had found the collar I kept hidden in under my bed and put it on me, remarking it was “only fair” because of that one time I didn’t take my laundry out of the machine either. With a few jeers about the colar, they sent me out the door. Outside, there was a gentle mist which helped ease the transition into the hot, sweaty environment of the nightclub. Immediately upon entering, I was confronted by the smells of sweat and weed and maybe vomit, if I really focused in on it, plus the throbbing bass which was so loud I could feel it in my guts. I tried to hide myself on the edges of the crowd, and ended up at the bar with a beer in my hand, which was how this guy had found me.
Now, I watched him order shots for us, and we downed them. I was moving quickly from being in-control drunk to being messy drunk, and was thankful when he pulled me away from the bar towards the dancefloor. He held me close to him and we were dancing together. I felt his breath on my neck and could feel him smile when I put my hands on his back, then cautiously lower to the waistline of his pants. His arms were heavy and protective around me, like he was in complete control of my body. He trailed soft kisses along my neck and ear and I wanted to melt into his arms. A few times we pulled away, and he smiled as I danced somewhat awkwardly without the guidance of his body, but he always pulled me back to him, this time so he was behind me.
Pressed against me, I felt his right hand run up over my shirt to my collar, and he rested his hand just below it pressing gently. I put my hand over his, encouraging it to stay there, feeling the slick of sweat running down my neck. “Oh, you’re a real slut aren’t you” he murmured (I say murmured, but he probably said it at full volume, I just couldn’t hear over the music). I could have stayed there forever, his hand pressed lovingly against my clavicle, but soon he was on the move again. He reached down and grabbed my bulge. I’m sure he could tell I was already hard as a rock from the dancing and he leaned into my ear again: “You’re fucking hung! What a waste.” I groaned somewhat, though you couldn’t hear it over the music, and pressed back against his body. We continued dancing for a while, his arms wrapped firmly around my body, my ass grinding against his crotch. Then, during a lull in the music, he leaned in and said “Let’s get out of here.” I nodded. He asked, “My place or yours? Or the bathroom?” and pressed suggestively on my crotch. The thought of licking his cum off the bathroom floor filled me with disgust and intense arousal, but I wanted the privacy of a bedroom, so I leaned back and said “mine.”
“Good” he responded, and just like that he wrapped an arm around my waist and we were headed out the door, both stumbling slightly. “Hang on,” he said once we were outside, slipping a finger through my belt loop to hold me still “I have to put more money on my parking spot.”
So I stood there, with a slowly diminishing erection, leaning adana escort against a trash can in the middle of the night while he walked several feet away to put his card into the machine. I could tell he was drunk, though somewhat more composed than I was, by the way he stared at the machine and slowly read its instructions. I didn’t mind that it took him longer, it gave me more time to admire him under the streetlights. Outside of the darkness of the club, I could see clearly that he was beautiful. He looked close to my age, early twenties, and had a somewhat smaller build than I had expected. I could tell he was short when he was dancing with me, but I wouldn’t have guessed his size based on how strongly he grasped me. There was something intense about his presence, even just standing there at the parking meter, like every move of his articulate fingers was calculated ahead of time. He had a delicate nose, and lips which were somewhat cracked, but still pleasing to the eye. As he walked further out to place the ticket on his dashboard and grab a bag from the car, I admired his ass. When he returned, he grabbed my waist again “Lead the way,” he stated, and it was a command not a request.
On our way back to my apartment, we chatted casually and laughed. He was a waiter. He went to the local state university and was graduating this year. He had taken a gap year after completing his associate’s degree at community college. At one point, he had untucked the left side of my shirt and was now running his hand gently over my bare, sweaty skin. His fingers pressed into my ribs, then along my hips, right above my belt, and he seemed to take great pleasure in watching me try and conceal a growing erection as we walked. If someone saw us from afar, we may have looked like old friends, drunkenly hanging onto eachother on our way back from the bar. I was telling him about my graphic design major when we arrived at my apartment. We walked up two flights of stairs and I placed my hand on the doorknob, then stopped. I could still hear my friends sitting around and talking inside. I looked at him, “I have roommates,” knowing how they would harass us upon my return, but he just shrugged and pushed me through the door.
As soon as we entered the room, it erupted with cheers and laughter. “Go off!” my 5 roommates shouted, “Get that man!” The aforementioned man showed a theatrical streak, raising his arms and cheering along with him. “I told you he’d pick someone up!” I wished I could disappear from existence as I lead him towards my room, and could feel my cheeks growing red. I pushed him ahead of me into my bedroom and slammed the door behind us, leaning against it and looking at the floor in an attempt at hiding my embarrassment.
“They’re sweet,” he said, placing his bag on my floor and pacing slowly around my room. He looked at my posters, then out my window, which only really showed the bricks of the apartment building next to mine.
“Nice view,” he murmured, and turned back around to face me. Our eyes met for a long while before he commanded me, “Come here.” I did, and we stood close to each other. I could hear his breathing and the traffic outside, a siren far off in the distance. He looked me up and down. I felt utterly exposed, standing there drunk in front of his piercing gaze. He almost looked nervous. Cautiously, I began to lower to my knees but he stopped me, grabbing the ring on my collar. He kissed me passionately, then pressed my body against his and spoke into my ear “Ever fucked a man with a vagina before?”
I looked at him, and he smiled. Now I understood why I hadn’t felt more when I was grinding my ass against him all night. I had never hooked up with a trans guy before, eskişehir escort and I was somewhat intrigued, though disappointed I wouldn’t be getting fucked tonight. “Uh, I usually bottom,” I stammered. My arms were still around his shoulders as he leaned against the window and watched me. He laughed “I said I’m trans, not stupid. I know you’re a bottom.” Pulling me slightly behind him, he walked to the bag he had gotten from his car and pulled out a strappy harness and a dildo with a rainbow striped pattern. He let me hold it, and I turned the dildo over in my hands, imagining how it would feel inside of me. “Want to try this?” he asked.
Oh god yes. “Yes.”
With a new energy, he threw the strapon onto the bed and we started making out again, his hands grabbing my back, my hair, my ass. We broke contact while he pulled my shirt off over my head. The buttons on his jacket felt cold against my bare torso, and my nipples hardened in response as he kissed my neck and collarbone. I helped him remove his jacket and shirt, while he unbuttoned my pants and began pulling them down. My cock was finally free and stayed hard even as I fumbled to remove my shoes. He pushed me back so I was reclining on the bed and licked up the length of my cock. I was leaking precum and just moments away from orgasming when he stopped and asked me “ready to get fucked?”
“Yes sir” I responded immediately, surprising myself, and he smiled
“Good boy.”
I sat there for a few minutes, my cock desperately hard as I watched him remove his pants and prepare the strap on, sliding the striped dildo into place with an o-ring. Then he stood in front of me, artificial dick on full display, and asked “You wanna show me what that pretty mouth of yours is good for?” Immediately, I slid to my knees in front of him but before I could get to the silicone dick I was so hungry for, he leaned down, grabbed my collar, and slapped my face.
“What do we say?” He asked. My cheek stung from the impact.
“Yes sir.” I had never been so turned on in my entire fucking life. He pet my hair and praised me
“Good boy.” And I was back on his cock in no time.
Even though he couldn’t feel what I was doing, Elliot watched me suck his plastic dick with hungry, lustful eyes. I opened my mouth wide, tracing my tongue around the head of his dick and over the shaft. I popped the head into my mouth and moved down the length of the dildo. While the rainbow pattern had initially seemed overly flashy, I now understood its appeal as I watched the different colored bands disappear into my mouth. He seemed take pleasure in this too, and he grabbed the back of my head, pushing me further onto his cock. I gagged, and he left out one harsh laugh before letting me catch my breath. We built up a rhythm, with him thrusting into my throat and me pushing forward against the strap on’s harness. I let the snot and drool run down my chin, imagining it was his cum. Then, as abruptly as it had started, he pulled out. He ran his hand over my face, grazing my lips and rubbing my saliva into my skin and hair.
“Get on the bed” he commanded, slowly stroking his cock.
“Yes sir.”
I lied down on my back, lifting my legs up to present my asshole to him. I felt a cold wet glob of lube on my asshole, and he began firmly pressing one finger into me, which slipped in easily, then two. He fingered me slowly, and the brushes against my prostate made my back arch and my breathing quicken. I was definitely moaning loud enough for my roomates to hear, but I didn’t care. When he fully removed his fingers, I felt open and empty, but not for long. His cock pressed against my hole and I struggled to reelax, breathing in sharply at the sakarya escort discomfort. He kept pushing in, and I quivered around his whole length.
“Do you feel good?” He asked me, and I tried to answer, but couldn’t speak through the pleasure. I let out something that fell between a “yes” and a moan as he picked up an aggressive rhythm inside of me. “What a fucking mess,” he growled in my ear and started fucking me hard, plunging the whole length of the dildo into my ass. I couldn’t suppress my moans as his body pounded against mine, especially when his hands circled around my neck. While he didn’t squeeze hard enough to cause any damage, the gentle weight on my neck was enough to make my eyes roll.
“Turn over,” he growled, “I want to watch your ass while I fuck it.”
I complied with a “yes sir,” getting on my knees, burying my face in a pillow, and spreading my hole for him. But then, nothing. I was breathing heavily, my cock so hard it felt like it would explode, “Please” I murmured. I could hear wet noises behind me, maybe he was masturbating as this all happened
“Please what?” He asked
“Please sir,” still nothing. “Please fuck my asshole please sir I need your fucking cock.” Apparently those were the magic words. He was back in my ass immediately.
He fucked rough, the dildo bottoming out so I could feel his silicone balls smacking against my ass. He pushed my face down into the bed, then reached under me and began jerking my dick in time with his strokes. My whole body clenched. The man behind me thrust into me fully, pausing to let my asshole tighten around him, and jerked me off faster. My mind was screaming. With a few more strokes of my cock, and one firm smack on my ass, I came into his hand.
He pulled me back by my hair so I was on my knees. I could feel him breathing heavily against my back. “Drink,” he commanded, bringing his cupped hand to my lips. I did, and proceeded to lick and suck any remaining cum from his fingers. He watched this with lidded eyes, smiling occasionally at my excitement. When his hand was sufficiently clean, he wiped my saliva on my skin and let me fall forward on the bed, pulling the strapon out of my ass. Exhausted, I lied face down and listened to him unbuckle the strapon and take it off. He climbed off the bed, squeezing my leg comfortingly, and I heard him pull on his underwear. His hands traced gently along my back, “Where’s your bathroom?” I told him it was down the hall, and he was gone.
When he came back a few moments later, I had rolled onto my back and I watched him put the strap on back in his bag and start collecting his clothes from the floor. “Please don’t leave,” I said and reached out for his hand. He smiled and climbed into bed with me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and gently pulling away the hair that had stuck to the sweat and mucus on my face.
“Don’t you need to take a shower?” he asked, and I shrugged,
“Does it bother you?”
“No.”
I fell asleep with his fingers running through my tangled hair, breath warming my neck, hands tracing lines in the saliva and sweat covering my chest.
In the morning, I heard him get off the bed and move around the room. Only half awake, I kept my eyes closed so he would think I was asleep. He brushed my hair from my forehead and kissed it gently, and he was gone. After a while of falling back in and out of sleep, I woke up to the sun glaring in through the window. I rubbed the crust from my eyes, sat on the edge of my bed. I looked down at my body. It was covered in dried spit and semen. My head was pounding. Cautiously, I stood and looked at myself in my mirror. I took off my collar, letting it fall heavily to the ground, and inspected the red imprints it had left in my skin. I looked horrible.
As I grabbed a towel so I could shower and wash off the crust from my skin, I noticed a scrap of paper on my desk. “We should do this again” it said, with a phone number and signed “Elliot.” So that was his name. I turned it over and over in my mind as I showered and remembered the night before.
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