Dillon - Part X - Closed, Not Latched

After graduation, Elliot and I moved to New York City. I thought it would be wild and crazy, but we quickly settled into a condo in SoHo that has been in his family for almost 80 years. His parents didn’t charge us rent, but he insisted we pay for the maintenance fees and any other bills that came along. As it would turn out, those fees added up pretty quickly, and it wasn’t much cheaper than paying rent, but you really can’t beat the area.

The first two years were pretty amazing, and we settled into our routines. Both of us work Monday through Friday, and party all weekend. He had an old friend who had gone to NYU, so she had lived in the city for years already. She introduced us to her friends, and we soon developed our own circle of city transplants. I even reached out to Tank, who met up with us twice in two years for dinner and drinks. The second time, he brought his fiancée. We then tried to invite him out a few times, but he was always too busy and kinda fell off my radar, with the exception of the occasional text.

We would go out most Friday nights, then go home and fuck. It was always something. A club, an art gallery, a friend in some off-Broadway show, or worse, in an improv group. But then there were drinks and hot sex with the guy I was head over heels in love with. 

By year three, I wouldn’t say our sex had simmered, but we had tried a couple threesomes to keep it interesting. Neither one of us was too satisfied with that. When we brought home another top, it was hot for me, getting fucked by another guy with guilt-free permission would always scratch that itch and break up the routine sex we had. Elliot didn’t like watching me get fucked by another guy, though. When we brought home some dumb twink bottom, we would share topping him, but it didn’t really do it for me, and even if Elliot finished by fucking me, it felt like some kind of sloppy seconds. So threesomes were a tried-and-failed experiment to keep things interesting. We didn’t stop having sex with each other, or even get into dry spells where we went without for longer periods of time; it just became a little too routine for our liking—lacking spice more than spark. Since an open relationship wasn’t something either of us wanted, we just did our best to keep it interesting.

As if the gay Gods were smiling down at us, we ended up meeting a couple, Fenton and Juaq “with a Q”, who were both incredibly attractive, and they made no secret of being in an open relationship. We just had a few drinks with them, then Elliot and I went back to our place and had hot sex, per our routine. What I wasn’t expecting was the conversation afterward.

“What did you think of Jack and Fenton tonight?” He asked through the shower curtain as I brushed my teeth.

“You mean Jauq with a Q?” I said with a mouth full of toothpaste.

He chuckled, “Yeah.”

I spat out the toothpaste and rinsed my mouth out. “I thought Fenton was great, Jauq was alright, I guess,” I started flossing.

“You didn’t like Jauq?” He asked, turning toward the shower head to wash his pits.

“Not really, did you?” I asked.

He chuckled, “Well, I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers.”

I thought about it, “I guess, he’s a good-looking guy, but a little too fussy for my taste. I’m shocked Fenton puts up with him; he seemed much more down to Earth, kind of a man's man, not into all of that stuff Jauq rambled on about.”

Another chuckle came from behind the curtain, “I guess. Jauq must be amazing in bed for them to match.”

That made me chuckle, “Either that or Fenton has a huge dick, and Jauq is the only guy who’s been able to handle him in bed.”

He laughed, “No way that guy has a bigger dick than me.”

“Aww, don’t worry, babe, your dick is the biggest I’ve ever had, and it’s beautiful,” I mockingly reassured him, while watching his silhouette through the wet curtain.

Then we got into bed, and he asked, “You weren’t thinking of Fenton while we fucked earlier, were you?”

I immediately said, “No, of course not.” But then I thought about it, and while I hadn’t directly been thinking of him, the conversation we had earlier, and drinking in his masculine persona all night, it was a sort of foreplay that got me excited and at a higher level of horniness for our sex tonight. “I wouldn’t say I was thinking of him, but I wouldn’t say I wasn’t turned on by him earlier tonight. Why?”

He paused, “Well, it’s probably a stupid idea, but if you were into it, and only if you were into it, would it be crazy for us to…not have an open relationship but give each other a pre-approved sort of hall pass to hook up with a couple? Not like a foursome, but like…you hook up with Fenton, and I…”

My eyebrow raised, “Fuck Jauq…with a Q?”

“It’s stupid,” he started to shut down.

“No,” I let out a heavy breath. “It’s not stupid, but do you think it’s smart? I mean, there’s a reason we agreed we didn’t want an open relationship.”

“Yeah, but…this wouldn’t be ‘open’ as much as it would be…not latched closed,” he bit his lower lip in a way that he only did when he was nervous, which I found adorable.

“I’m not opposed to the idea, I guess. We could try it. We definitely need some ground rules, because I don’t want sex to get in the way of this,” I gestured between us, cuddling up to his nearly naked body, that familiar scent filling my lungs as I breathed in.

“Of course,” he insisted, kissing my temple.

“For example, not in our bed. I don’t want you having some other guy moaning your name in my bed,” I insisted.

“Yeah, if some guy is going to be sweating over you, it better not be in this bed,” Elliot agreed. “Also, condoms, no matter what.”

“Oh, definitely. I don’t want to catch whatever Jauq with a Q is spreading around,” I half-joked.

His head leaned dramatically away from me as his eyes rolled. “Are you sure you’re ok with this?” He looked at me with his serious face.

“I am, I’m just teasing you, I’m not a huge fan of Jauq, but I’m not sleeping with him,” I shrugged.

“Oh, no sleeping over, that should be a rule,” he said.

I chuckled, “Sure, that makes sense.”

“It also should be 100% that we are both into them. I don’t want a hall pass if you’re not using yours, if you’re not into Fenton, or whoever, that’s it, we don’t even try for it, deal?”

“Deal,” I said, feeling a little more comfortable with the idea.

Thus spawned our closed, but not latched relationship. It became a fun game between us. When we’d go out to bars, we were always hunting. We rarely agreed on a couple, but it was a fun game, and it kept things interesting. Even when we did find a couple we were both interested in, it was a 50/50 chance they were interested in us the way we liked to fool around. As it turned out, these couples had their own rules, and they oddly preferred to be in the room, so it mostly didn’t work out. It was hot the three or so times a year we made it work, and when it didn’t work out, Elliot and I would go home and have hot sex just the two of us. Either way, it would always make us appreciate sex with each other that much more, for one reason or another.

In the fall of 2011, we had been invited to the joint birthday celebration of our gay friends, Jamie and Michael. They are a couple we’ve known since we moved to the city, and they celebrate their birthday as a single party every year because one of them is on October 3rd and the other is on October 8th. It’s always a good excuse to get a big party together. Since Elliot and Jamie worked together our first year living in the city, we all became close friends.

The night of the party, I wasn’t expecting anything different than the last few years. I thought we’d all get shit faced, Elliot and Jamie would swap war stories from their office, then we’d all go our separate ways, and Elliot would make my toes curl and pump a load into me before we went to sleep. What I hadn’t accounted for was watching Elliot flirt all night with a 22-year-old twink named Chris, who worked on an off-Broadway production with Michael over the summer.

Chris was funny, claimed to be straight, but I could tell from the way he was getting wasted and flirting with Elliot that he was at the “I’m not gay, I was just drunk,” phase of figuring himself out. I get it, I was that guy a few years ago, but that wasn’t what bothered me. I claimed my territory early on in the conversation, and he definitely understood what I was saying, but kept on flirting with Elliot right in front of me. Touching his arm and laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, could he be more obvious?

When Chris went over to the bar to get himself another drink, I took that opportunity to say something to Elliot. “Babe, no,” was all I said.

He grinned at me, eyes glassy because he smoked outside with Jamie earlier. “No, what?”

“You know what.” I gave him the look. “That kid is into you. Like he wants to surgically remove me from you so he can ride your dick.”

He chuckled, “What? First off, he’s not a kid, and second, he’s straight. He was talking about his girlfriend earlier…or maybe ex-girlfriend, I don’t know. Michael was definitely telling a story about him hooking up with one of the actresses at their wrap party, so…”

“So what?” I rolled my eyes. “You know our rule.”

“I do, so you don’t need to worry,” he insisted.

I took a deep breath, not really sure why I was feeling threatened, but as I was recognizing my behavior, Chris came back with another cocktail for himself and shots—one for him and one for my boyfriend. I rolled my eyes so hard at Elliot that he probably heard them rolling.

“Oh, shit, what’s this?” Elliot asked like he didn’t know.

“The bartender said he poured too many shots for a group of frat guys and would rather they go to me instead,” Chris said, holding up a shot for Elliot to take. “Do you want this one?” Chris held up a shot for me to take.

“I’m good, you two enjoy,” I said, then grabbed my drink and took a sip. I couldn’t help but scoff subtly, “I was in a fraternity back in college, we’re not all bad.” I didn’t mean for that to come out so laced with venom, but…As I watched Elliot swallow Chris’s whiskey, I suddenly didn’t care if I got on Chris’s bad side.

“Ugh,” they both said in unison as they polished off the shots and then chuckled at their mutual dislike for the flavor.

“Sorry,” Chris said. “I didn’t mean to offend you; it’s just what the bartender said. I can go give him a stern talking to, if you want?” He tried to joke, but I wasn’t in the mood to find it funny.

As drinks continued to flow, and their flirting got worse, I decided to do my own retaliatory flirting with an actor slash model named Cole, who worked on a different off-off-Broadway show with Michael a few years ago. Cole is a very attractive guy who constantly flirts with me at parties or outings Jamie and Michael invite us to. He’s older than me, probably 35, but he looks like he’s still in his twenties. He has one of those gruff voices that make him perfect casting for the fatherly role in a TV show from the Mary Tyler Moore era. 

He let me know the first time we met a few years ago that he wanted to take me home with him, and while I was flattered, I shut it down and let him know I was with Elliot and that we didn’t have an open relationship. He made a comment that I had all but forgotten, but in my frustration with Elliot flirting with Chris, it popped into my head like a ping on a military radar system. “Well… let me know when that changes, I’d love to get you into my bed.” Then I distinctly remember him grabbing my ass cheek to let me know what it was he really wanted. In later hangouts, he would always let his hugs linger a little too long, and always found ways to flirt and touch me that I tried to ignore so as not to lead him on. 

I’m not proud of this, but Elliot and Chris really had me steaming, so I decided to walk over to the pub table he was at, making sure I was in eyesight of Elliot, and started flirting with Cole.

I wasn’t subtle either. I started with a hug, letting my hands slide from his back to his biceps as I pulled away, squeezing his muscles through his shirt and letting my hands linger as I stared up into his green eyes. I could see the immediate twinkle of recognition in his eyes. He completely ignored the guy he was talking with when I walked up. So much so, the other guy awkwardly picked up his drink and disappeared into the crowd of people.

I planted myself so I could see Elliot, watching out of the corner of my eye to see Chris practically throwing himself at Elliot. Still, annoyingly, Elliot did nothing to stop it. He smiled, he laughed, he made eye contact in the way I thought he reserved for when he was fucking me. It made my blood boil. 

I was doing my best to performatively laugh at Cole’s jokes, touching his hairy forearm as often as I could, leaning in to “hear him better” in a way that, from Elliot’s point of view, could be misinterpreted as me kissing Cole. When I leaned back, I finished my drink, glanced over at Elliot, who finally made eye contact and smiled at me. “I’m going to go get another drink,” I told Cole, caressing his forearm as I walked away. That part was unintentional, just caught up in the moment. I had felt guilty already for flirting with him to get Elliot’s attention, and now that I had, there was no reason for me to have done that.

As I walked past Elliot and Chris, I locked eyes with Elliot and then went over to the bar to get the bartender's attention. Twenty seconds later, Elliot slid up next to me, placing an empty glass on the bar with a grin on his face. “Looks like you and Cole are getting along,” he said. There was a tipsiness in his voice that I recognized from years of drinking together.

I spun around, putting my back to the bar, seeing Chris on his phone, waiting for my boyfriend to come back over to his table. “Yeah, Cole is funny,” I said. “I’m surprised you noticed with Chris hanging all over you,” I said his name as if it were a curse word.

Elliot chuckled, taking a deep breath and letting it out, “Yeah, well, what can I say, I’m irresistible.”

I looked over at him, cocked my head to the side, “Well, too bad we have our rule about couples only.”

He smiled at me, “I was thinking about that.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “We’ve known Cole a long time,” he shrugged. “If you were feeling chemistry there, I could make an exception to the rule for one night.” He flagged the bartender, holding up his glass, nodding, and put it back down before turning his attention back to me.

“And…I suppose you’d go back…with Chris?” Again, I said his name like a curse word.

He put both hands on the edge of the bar, pushing himself away from it as if he were doing a pushup. “I mean, it would only make sense… unless you don’t want me to, I mean.”

I felt myself going blind with instant rage, which is not like me at all. Was he seriously suggesting we break our relationship constitution for…that fucking twink? Did he really think I’m dumb enough to buy into his act of ‘doing me a favor’ by ‘letting me’ hook up with…Cole? A guy I’ve repeatedly told Elliot I wasn’t into and have to avoid at parties because he flirts with me too much? I know if I veto this, I’m not getting any sex tonight, and I’m the bad guy even though it won’t be said, all because Chris…wait, “I thought he was straight?”

Elliot grinned, “You know I love a challenge.” Then, after a brief pause, he added, “I haven’t even suggested anything; he’ll probably blow me off if I did, but I kinda want to see if I can crack him open.” He looked like a puppy-with-a-new-chew-toy level of excitement. “Of course, only if you wanted to…with Cole, I mean.” 

The bartender put down a drink in front of him and another in front of me. I took a sip, frustrated, but feeling like I had to let him do this. “Ok, well, good luck,” I put on a fake smile and clinked my glass against his.

“Really?” His face lit up.

“Pshh…yeah,” I gulped my drink.

“And…you’re going to go home with Cole? I know he’s wanted you forever, but…” he started to say.

“I’m going to climb him like a tree,” I said, leaning over the bar to get the bartender again. “Can I get two shots of Jameson?”

Elliot chuckled, grinning, too focused on his conquest to even notice I was lying through my teeth. “Good luck back at ya, then!” He clinked his glass against mine, took a sip, and walked away.

When the bartender dropped two shots in front of me, I downed the first one right away, then noticed Cole standing next to the pub table, alone, probably desperately waiting for me to come back over and listen to his dumb stories. I took a deep breath, then downed the second shot and walked back over to the table.

As Cole yammered on about his “funny” work story, I kept glancing over to see Elliot putting moves on Chris. Elliot’s hand moved to Chris’s hip as he leaned in to say something that Chris found so hilarious, his head flew back, and he had to put a hand on Elliot’s shoulder to keep from falling. Gag me.

When I finished my drink, I was feeling a bit drunk already and was thinking I should just go home. I excused myself to the bathroom for a minute, took a long piss, splashed water in my face, and then came back to Cole. On my walk back, I saw Elliot leaving the bar with an arm wrapped around Chris’s slim waist, and I was instantly blinded by rage again.

“Did you get a chance to see Avatar?” Cole asked.

I grabbed Cole’s drink, downed it, then asked, “Do you want to get outta here?”

He looked surprised, then he scanned the room, probably looking for Elliot, and then his grin widened, and he said, “Fuck yeah.”

We got a taxi back to his place on the Upper East Side. His hand on my thigh the entire ride, inching its way up to my crotch, testing to make sure this was what he thought it was. When I didn’t stop him from settling his fingers on my bulge, I could feel his entire mood shift. When I moved my ass a little closer to the edge of the seat so he could grope me even more, he didn’t hesitate. Keeping it subtle so the driver didn’t notice, but his hands gripping my package from outside my jeans did feel good.

I was still debating if I wanted to go all the way with Cole. He’s handsome, but for some reason, he never really turned me on like that. Maybe I can just give him a blow job and leave. Then I won’t have given him blue balls, and I won’t feel guilty for leading him on all night.

Once inside his place, he immediately started kissing me. He paused briefly, unsure at first if he had truly read all the signs correctly, but when I kissed him back, it seemed to be the last time he waited for permission. His big hand went for the back of my head, and his tongue parted my lips, moaning into my mouth as his other hand slid down my back to my ass. He walked us slowly back to the bed in the far corner of the studio apartment.

When the backs of my legs felt the edge of the mattress, I sat down and looked up at him as he pulled his shirt off. I was impressed by his body—beefy muscles, like the kind you expect from a construction worker. The hair on his torso was on the thicker side, but somewhat trimmed. I still wasn’t feeling that tingle inside that made previous hookups fun; that magnetic pull just wasn’t there, so I decided I was just going to blow him real quick and be done. I went for his belt, undoing his jeans and exposing his white Stafford briefs; the bulge inside was thick and growing. I felt his hand come to the back of my head, massaging me and practically begging me to continue. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband, yanking them far enough down his upper thigh that his cock swung out and his massive balls hung free.

“Mmmm….fuck, I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he growled, pulling my head into his crotch. His cock was about six inches, cut, but thick enough that my fingers didn’t completely touch as I wrapped my hand around his meat. He was already producing precum and was so hard it stuck straight out. I did my best to take him straight into my mouth. I got a few moans from him as I licked him up and down; his taste was saltier than Elliot's, but he definitely was enjoying this more than Elliot had for a while. The thought of Chris sucking Elliot’s dick right now redoubled my efforts on Cole. Taking him right into my throat despite not being ready, I didn’t gag thanks to the alcohol swimming in my system. “Fuck, Dillon…Jesus, you’ve got a good mouth,” he started pulling my head deeper onto his cock so my nose was in his pubes and his thick cock stretched my throat. “Jesus Christ, that’s good,” he said, rocking his hips on the next bob so his cock popped into my throat a little more forcefully. He only let me suck him for a few more minutes, then pulled me in tight, holding his cock as deep as it could go, and I thought he was going to blow his load, but he just breathed heavily and pulled out. “Take your clothes off,” he said.

“Huh?” I wiped the spit and precum from my mouth.

He reached for my pants, yanking them and my underwear down without undoing the button. “I want to fuck you,” he said, standing upright as he pulled the hem of the legs of my jeans, the pants sliding off quickly. My grey briefs were tangled at the knee, and he pulled them off separately. I pulled my shirt off as I watched him finish taking off his pants and underwear. Then he pushed me further up the bed as he crawled in. I hadn’t realized how much physically bigger than me Cole is. He’s taller, wider, heavier in every way. His dick is thick as hell, though. I don’t know if I can handle that when I’m only surface-level attracted to him and don’t really want to be here in the first place.

He grabbed my legs, flipping me onto my stomach. He crawled onto my back, wedging his cock in my crack, then giving me a few gentle humps just to tease my hole as he nibbled on my neck and let me know who was in charge here. Then he slid down, kissing my back until he got to my ass, palming my cheeks, massaging a little, and he spit onto my hole. He got right in there, pushing one of my knees out to the side so he could get even better access. “Mmm, that feels good,” I encouraged him, stretching out on his bed, trying to relax.

He ate my ass and started fingering my hole to loosen me up. He reached for a bottle of poppers and handed them to me. I hadn’t done poppers in years, and being drunk already, I went for it. Hoping to loosen my hole, but also hoping to forget about Elliot and Chris. That first rush washed over me like a sledgehammer to my brain, “Oh fuck,” I moaned, arching my ass up to get more tongue action.

“You like getting your cute little ass eaten?” Cole mumbled between my glutes.

“Fuck yeah,” I groaned and took another hit.

He poured some lube on my hole, sliding two fingers into me at first, then a third, and I groaned. “Damn, you’re tight. Elliot must not be as thick as I am,” he almost chuckled.

“He’s plenty thick,” I mumbled into the mattress. Annoyed with myself for defending Elliot when I know he’s out there plowing Chris.

“My cock is going to stretch your cute little hole,” he said, adding more lube and pushing all three fingers in as deep as he could.

“Ngh…fuck,” I groaned. “Prove it,” I half-challenged, half wanted him to just get it over with. He slicked his dick with the lube on his fingers and started circling the blunt tip on my hole. “Do you have a condom?” I asked.

“Oh, umm…No, I don’t,” he said, adding a little pressure to my hole.

“Ungh…fuck, I have one in my pants,” I groaned, feeling my hole clamp shut.

He sighed, then pulled my pants from the floor and handed them to me. I dug out a Magnum from my wallet, put it in there just in case for nights like tonight, and gave it to him. I watched over my shoulder as he quickly stretched it and rolled it down his thick shaft. The girth of his cock was definitely stretching the tensile strength of the latex, but there was plenty more to be rolled out at the base of his dick.

He added more lube, then climbed back on top of me. I took a deep hit of poppers, and he placed his cock at my hole and started pushing. The poppers hadn’t really done their job yet, but his battering ram pushed in anyway.

“Oh…fuck…ahhh,” I groaned, clenched my asshole and the sheets in my fists.

“Oh, yeah, that’s tight,” Cole moaned as he hunched half of his six inches into me, splitting me open.

“Fuck…wait, wait, Jesus, you’re thick,” I whined into the mattress, pushing his hips back with my free hand, the other pushing me away from the headboard.

He chuckled, “Damn, Dillon, I thought you said Elliot had a thick one?”

His jab at Elliot’s cock hurt almost as much as his cock inside me, and I felt the need to defend Elliot even while mad at him. “Ngh…he is, I just need a minute,” I said, reaching for the poppers again. I took two deep hits on each side and let the world spin around me. Cole felt my hole relax a little, and he started rocking his hips back and forth. He wasn’t getting deep, but fuck, my hole never felt so stretched in my life. I hit the poppers again as he groaned on top of me, pumping half of his dick into me before my hole wouldn’t allow him any deeper.

He slid an arm under me and gripped my shoulder, and his other slid under my waist and held me even tighter. “Fuck, that feels so good,” he moaned into my ear. His beer breath was warm against my skin as he held me and pressed all of his inches into me. My mouth opened like I wanted to scream, but nothing was coming out, and he groaned in pleasure as he bottomed out. “Mmm, Dillon,” he huffed, holding himself there, then kissed my neck and pumped again. Most of his inches sliding out quickly, then hunching back into me like a fist.

“Ahhh, fuck,” I groaned and then hissed on the next pump.

“Feels so good, Dillon,” he breathed into my ear as he continued pumping.

“Yeah?” I asked, trying not to clench, but couldn’t help it, hoping he was getting close already from the way he was breathing.

“So good,” he said, pushing deep and holding it there. “Do you want to ride on top?”

“Mmmpf…no, I want you to cum,” I groaned through clenched teeth.

He took the hint, lying flat on my back, his chest hair scratching my back as both of his hands went down to my hips, gripping my waist tight as he started giving me fast, short pumps of his beer can dick.

“Oh fuck, ahhh,” I groaned into the pillow. Trying not to tap out, but struggling to take him. “Are you close?”

“Real close,” he panted, his thrusts getting shorter and faster, his grip on my waist tighter. “Where do you want it?”

“Just cum in me,” I grunted.

“Oh yeah, oh yeah, fuck,” he mumbled as he held me in place and gave me a few more thrusts, the last one landing deep enough inside me that it knocked my breath out, and my mouth made the shape of a scream, but nothing came out. His moans filled the void as I felt his dick throb inside me, filling the condom with a few forced post-nut thrusts that would’ve milked his cock if he weren’t wearing the rubber. “Shit… Dillon, I knew you’d feel good, but that was amazing,” he panted, his cock deflating to a third of its girth, and my ass pushed him out as he pulled out.

I rolled onto my back to see his choad in the condom, a massive load caught in the reservoir tip and leaking out around his now flaccid cock as he caught his breath. He reached over to play with my soft dick, “Do you want me to help you…”

“Ah…no, I don’t think I’m going to cum, I’m too tired,” I forced a smile.

He chuckled, “Yeah, I get it,” and a satisfied grin of pride washed over his face.

I got off the bed, feeling dizzy from the poppers and alcohol, the room was spinning a bit, but I found the bathroom and gave myself a hooker bath. When I came out, he was still lying on the bed, still wearing the cum filled condom and sound asleep. I quietly got dressed, pocketing his poppers, and snuck out of his place.

I started walking southwest, not certain where we were until I hit a crosswalk. 108th St and 2nd Ave. I walked down 2nd Ave in the hopes of finding a cab, but it was 2:30 in the morning, and all the cabs were taking people back from the bars right about now. I looked to see if I had a text from Elliot. It was an unspoken rule that the person who gets home first texts to say they are home. I didn’t want to get home before him. Knowing he’s still fucking that twink reignited my frustration. Especially after that fuck with Cole, which made me feel more used than anything, I needed to stay out later than Elliot.

Drunk, emotional, and my balls full, I did the smartest thing I could do. I sent a text to the one person Elliot would never give me a pass for.

Me: You up?

Tank: Yeah, what’s up?

Me: I was just thinking about you.

Tank: At 2:40 am?

Me: You’re up, aren't you?

Tank: Only because I just got home.

Me: Where’s home?

Tank: 74th between 1st and York, why?

Me: I’m not far. Want me to come over?

Tank: Is this a booty call?

Me: Yes, but only to finish what the last guy started.

Tank: Sloppy seconds?

Reading that made me feel dirty.

Me: He wore a condom, so not too sloppy.

I hoped that it read as funny as it was in my head.

Me: I need to get off, and your dick always does it for me.

Tank: Come over.

I was already walking in that direction and hailed the first cab I saw with the lights on. “Just drop me on the corner of 2nd and…” I pulled open my phone, looked at the text, “and 74th.” The driver chuckled and said ok, with a knowing tone in his voice.

When I got out of the cab, I text Tank again.

Me: I’m on the corner

Tank: Like a proper hooker

Tank: I’m in the Stratford

I pulled up the map on my beat-up Blackberry Storm. It didn’t list the building names, so I went back to my texts and realized he noted 74th between 1st and York, and I’m on 74th between 2nd and 1st.

Me: almost there.

When I got to his luxury building, he text me the apartment number.

He opened the door, wearing gym shorts hanging off his hips, his Calvin Klein white briefs almost completely visible. His bulge looked like it had been waiting for me. I couldn’t help but feel my heart pounding. I had to bite my lower lip just to keep from moaning. He grinned, grabbed me gently from the back of the neck, and pulled me into the mostly dark condo. We walked straight to the back, where the bedroom was, and the lights were on but dim. Everything in the room was white or cream colored; he must have had help decorating for it to look this fancy.

He pulled the comforter off the bed, stripping it of anything he probably didn’t want to wash cum off of. All but one of the pillows. Then he turned and wrapped me in his arms, his hands sliding up my shirt as his lips locked onto mine and his familiar scent wafted into my nose. Better than any poppers, I swear, I felt myself relax into him and practically present my hole to him with one quiet moan into his mouth. His tongue darted into my mouth, swirling around mine the way I like, and his hands dipped below the waistband of my briefs, grabbing my hole. His fingers inched their way toward my hole, which, even after my hooker bath, was still pre-lubed inside the ring. His finger slipped in, and even though I wanted him in me, I was already a little sore from Cole, even though that didn’t last long. “Mmmm,” I moaned into his mouth.

“Still so fucking tight, Dillon,” he broke our kiss, licking my upper lip, he added, “I thought I was going to have a loose hole to play with.”

“Mmm…it didn’t last long enough to loosen me up.” I kissed his neck and felt the muscles of his torso, which had lost all their fat and leaned out in the sexiest way.

“Elliot doesn’t get the job done anymore?” He asked, probing more than my asshole.

“Mmm, it wasn’t Elliot,” I mumbled into his neck, wrapping my arms around his and pulling him in for another kiss.

He kissed me, then left me wanting more, “You and Elliot are done?” He tried to make eye contact with me, but I wasn’t having it.

I reached down, pulling the hem of my shirt, dragging it over my head, and tossing it on the floor, becoming the only dark spot on his white carpet. “I’m not here for therapy,” I told him.

He grinned, “What are you here for?”

I slipped my hand down into the waistband of his Calvin’s. “This,” I said, squeezing his hardening cock and getting a gasp from him.

He grinned, kissed me again, then pushed me onto the bed. I didn’t wait for him, pulling the poppers out of my pocket, I quickly undid my pants, hooked my thumbs into my pants and underwear, shoving them off my hips for the second time tonight. I watched as he pulled at the shorts, which fell easily after barely hanging on his hips to begin with. His white briefs were strained, his seven-inch cock was thicker than I remembered and harder than ever. The V-lines from his abs were more defined than ever. He hooked his thumbs on the waistband of the briefs and shoved them down quickly; his cock sprang free and pointed right at me.

He got on the bed between my legs, and I wrapped them around his torso as he leaned over me, humping his cock up and down my crack. I wrapped my arms around his broad back as he lay on top of me and started kissing me. His weight on me, my horniness, the familiar scent of his musk, the chisled muscles grinding into me, it was all I needed. My cock was rock hard already, and every time he humped his cock over my hole, my body instinctively tried to hook my ring onto his cock like a sexual game of ring-toss.

He broke our kiss and reached for the small bottle of lube next to the condom on the almost dainty nightstand. He squirt some on his cock and started kissing me again, then added some to my hole, gently pushing one of his thick fingers inside my puffy ass lips. Even his fingers felt better than Cole’s. I pulled him into my lips and kissed him some more. Stretching my legs wider for him. I was like a dog in heat. When he put the head of his well-lubed cock to my hole and started circling around it, it was almost soothing and instantly pleasurable.

“Mmm, that feels good,” I relaxed into the mattress.

“It’s been a long time since my guy touched your tight little pucker,” he breathed out and gently pushed the head into my hole.

I winced. I wanted his cock, but I still wasn’t ready. “Ahhh…” I didn’t want to wait, so I reached for the poppers and took a quick hit on both sides. As soon as it washed over me, he started pushing the head in. “Mmmm…wait, we need a condom,” I told him, vaguely pointing toward his nightstand.

“We will. I gotta loosen you up first. I can’t eat you out with all that lube in you,” he kissed me, gently pushing his dick into me. I would’ve stopped anyone else, but I trust Tank. “Mmmm, Jesus, your ass feels good, so tight…I don’t want to hurt you, let’s just get you used to it,” he said and kissed me.

His dick sliding into me raw unlocked memories of the last time we fucked, and I couldn’t help but moan. Between all the lube on his cock and the lube already inside me, his dick was able to sink deep into me without ripping me open. His seven inches were never easy to take, though, and he was right; he needed to open me up first. When his pelvis met my ass, we both moaned into each other's mouths. He broke our kiss, holding his cock inside me, not moving. His mouth moved down my cheek, kissing its way to my ear, then my neck and back up. I couldn’t help but moan as his hips started circling, using his dick to stir my guts and loosen me up. “Mmm…Tank,” I moaned, holding his head to my neck as he kissed me and sucked on the soft skin. I felt his cock flex inside me, and it sent waves of pleasure rippling through my body. “Fuck me,” I mumbled. He instantly arched his ass out a little, then flexed his muscles, and his already buried dick went even deeper into me as he spread me open even more. “Oh…fuuuck,” I mumbled, reaching between us and grabbing my cock.

“You like that?” He asked in his sultry tone.

“Feels so good,” I mumbled, digging my heels into his hips to pull him deeper.

He slowly pulled halfway out, then back in, giving me a few more thrusts before he broke our kiss and slowly pulled all the way out. I started stroking my cock, blissfully looking up at him, his juicy tip barely touching my outer ring but still somehow more pleasurable than any of Cole’s sex. I watched as Tank stroked himself for a few strokes, squeezing my upper thigh as he breathed slowly. “What?” I smiled up at him with my drunk, half-lidded eyes.

He reached over and grabbed the condom, tearing it open with his teeth. Then smiled at me as he rolled it down his shaft. He added a little lube, then pushed my right leg up so he could see my hole, rubbing the tip around until my eyes lit up, and he pushed the tip in.

“Ahh, fuck,” I groaned.

He started to gently fuck me, and I stroked my dick. He seemed to be memorizing my body as he watched me use his dick to get myself off. “That feels so good,” I told him. Then he pushed all the way in, and I let out a high-pitched “Ungh,” as I felt that soreness that comes from the condom, worse now since Cole’s beer can had my sensitive skin stretched and beaten up. I tried to ignore it and stroked my cock faster, trying to maintain my erection. I rocked my hips on his cock as he slowly stroked it in and out of my hole. He knew exactly how to fuck me, exactly how to hit my prostate in a way that made me cum every single time. “Fuck, that feels good,” I moaned, squeezing his thick, muscular thigh. Feeling him flex his muscle under my hand, each pump of his cock going a little deeper into me, not stopping.

“Jesus, Dillon, it’s been too long,” he said, leaning over me and kissing me. He put his weight on me and started hunching up into me. His cock started digging deep and swelling in size, stretching me deeper than Cole had, just shy of how deep Elliot gets inside me.

I wrapped both my arms around him, “It feels so good,” I panted into his mouth.

He gave me a few fast strokes, his hips slamming his balls into me, the twacking sound echoing through the room. Then he popped up, breathing heavily. “Fuck,” he panted. “I’m close already,” he grinned, shaking his head. “It’s been way too long since I fucked a tight ass, and yours…” he shook his head, “definitely the best.”

It made me chuckle. I swung my leg up over his head, maneuvered him onto his back, and sat on his cock. I put my hands on his chest, feeling his pecs, and started slowly riding his dick. Making sure to slide up and down just enough that the subtle bump from his head pegged my prostate on each stroke. I grabbed my dick and started pounding it. I was so hard and so horny, but also kinda drunk, that I was struggling to get myself there, and I wasn’t leaving without an orgasm. I kept getting myself close, but not close enough, and I could tell Tank was struggling in this position to stay hard and not take control.

I felt around the bed, found the poppers, took another hit on each side, handed them to him, and watched him take a hit. I slowly rocked my hips, my ass flat on his pelvis, and I could tell he wasn’t nearly as hard as when we started. So I did the only thing I could do. I lift my ass, pulled the condom off with a snap, gave him a few strokes with the head on my hole, and as he became just rigid enough, I sank back down on him.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” Tank moaned, brabbing both my hips and thrusting up into me.

I felt his cock grow another inch, and the tip was gently scraping that wall deep inside me as we ground into each other and moaned. I stroked my cock faster, clenching my ass around his cock as I continued to ride him. As his dick became brick hard, it started pegging my prostate again, and I could feel myself getting close.

He huffed under me, “Fuck, I’m close, man,” he warned.

“Not yet,” I told him, riding his cock like my life depended on it. I stroked my dick with my right hand as my left held me up on his thigh, like I was riding a bull.

Tank grabbed the poppers and put them under my nose, just holding them there, and I pulled a little in each nostril, then a little more, and a little more as I continued to ride him and stroke myself. My head was spinning, and my body was tingling. I could feel the ridge of his bare cock head sliding over my prostate again and again. When he timed his thrust just right, I inhaled the poppers again and told him, “I’m about to cum!”

He capped the poppers and grabbed my hips, fucking hard into me, as hard as he could. I pounded my cock and let my ass grip his shaft as I hovered over his lap. “I’m gonna cum,” He warned.

“Do it,” I said, flexing my ass and feeling the rush of the poppers. 

His hands squeezed my waist, and he groaned, slamming up into me. “Oh fuck,” he breathed out, and I felt his cock spasm deep inside me. That familiar wet heat of his cum coating my insides.

I ground my ass down on him and let the spasming of his swollen cock push me over the edge. I trembled, and my nuts pulled up as my cum shot all over his stomach, his chest, wad after wad of cum completely coating his torso as his cum coated my guts. I stroked out the last of my nut as he trembled under me, his cock still flexing inside me as the last of his cum milked into me.

“Fuck,” was all I could say as I relaxed onto him. Leaving his cock inside me as I caught my breath.

Tank smiled up at me, then looked down at his abs where my cum was liquifying. “I need to clean up,” he chuckled.

I smiled, then slowly raised off of him, his softening cock slowly pulling out of me. I tried to clench my ass as the tip came out, not to let his load drip out onto the bed. Then I went into his bathroom, flicked on the light, and it was big and bright. I grabbed a small hand towel and wet it, then brought it to him. “Mind if I take a quick shower?” I asked.

“Go for it.” He said, then used the damp cloth to clean himself up.

I went to the bathroom, barely able to see because the light was so bright. I turned on the shower, and the water was already warm. He must have showered just before I got here. As I stood under the water, enjoying my post-nut rinse, I began to notice the pink items in the shower. The shampoo and conditioner were French, and the loufa was pink, the razor was pink, something…felt off. I turned off the shower, grabbing a soft, clean towel that smelled like roses. I looked around the bathroom a little more, still dizzy from the sex, poppers, and alcohol, but I was determined. Sure enough, next to the men's deodorant was women's deodorant, hairspray, a half-dozen other hair products, and Tank had almost a buzz cut.

I walked into the bedroom where Tank had cleaned himself up and disposed of the condom and condom wrapper. I let out a sigh. “You’re married, aren't you?”

He held up his hand with the ring on it. “I thought you knew.” He looked a little frustrated and a little ashamed.

“Does she know?” I felt gross, already knowing the answer. He shook his head, no. I nodded, then calmly walked over to my pants, pulling my briefs from them and pulling them on with a snap of the waistband.

“Are you ok?” He asked.

I pulled up my jeans and buttoned them quickly, “You know what…it’s really not my problem.” I went to the dark pool of fabric on the carpet and grabbed my shirt, pulling it on inside out, but I don’t really care.

“Look, Dillon, it’s not a big deal, really,” he tried to explain.

“I know what it is, and…I don’t want to be…this,” I shrugged, gesturing to the room, him, then me.

I let myself out as quickly as possible and got a cab home. 

I managed to expel Tank’s cum and shower before Elliot got home. I slept on the couch that night. The next morning, we had a long, tearful, open conversation about everything. It took a few months for us to get back on track, but we closed our relationship again, and things improved over the next year. We started seeing a couple's counselor, not Tank, and managed to work out the things we didn’t know we needed to address to be the healthiest versions of ourselves and for each other.

In the fall of 2015, we got married and have been married for a decade now. Oh, and Chris became a good friend of ours and was my best man at the wedding.

Tank divorced in 2021; the pandemic was too much for him and his wife.

Alessandro is married to a woman, with two kids, a dog, and a mortgage I’m sure they can’t afford, but that’s not my problem.