Short Spurts 2

Eat at Joe’s-2

He grunted as he closed the gap between us. “Hands up,” he told me. I lifted them up as he grabbed my shirt, which he promptly pulled up and over my head. “Shoes off.” I kicked them off. Then he surprised me—yes, even more—by literally picking me up off the ground. My slacks, already at my feet, promptly slid off with a little shaking on his part, and I all of a sudden knew what a rag doll felt like. With another shake, my briefs followed suit. Thankfully, he knew better than to try such a trick on my sweat socks. “Guess those can stay on. Very seventies porn-like.”

I forced a grin as I remained suspended there. “I’ll take your word for it.”

He then set me down and ran his mitt of a hand across my hairless if not well-etched chest, fingers working their way across my tight belly before coming to rest atop my manscaped bush. “Not very seventies porn-like.”

I nodded. “Again, taking your word for it.”

His grin echoed mine as he pushed me toward the back door and into the chilled night air, my clothes under his arm. Goosepimples rose up my arms as a breeze stiffened my n*****s, c**k rising to the occasion when it realized where it was. He stared down at it. I stared down at it. It stared up at us. “Yep,” he rasped.

“Porn-like again?”

He nodded. “Yep.”

Rather than grab my hand, he grabbed my prick and led us to his truck, a Ford, big and bulky and made in the U.S. of A., just like him. He opened the door for me before I hopped in, the seat cold on my bare ass. Then he got in and started her up, engine revving, him revving, me merely confused and hard and naked, save for those socks of mine. “Where to?” I asked.

“On your knees, kid,” he replied.

“I, uh, meant location-wise.”

He shrugged. “My house. Now, on your knees, kid. Legs as wide as they’ll go.”

Which meant that I was on just one knee, the other hovering as I placed my left foot on the glove compartment. It suddenly struck me as odd that they still called it that, seeing as I couldn’t recall ever throwing my gloves in one. Then again, it also struck me as odd to be staring out the window into the black of night, balls dangling, c**k pointing to the door handle. In other words, who was I to quibble?

With one hand he drove; the other traced my peaks and valleys, my hills and dales, exploring the great divide—namely my ass. “They give awards out for prized asses, kid,” he said with a long, low whistle, “you’d take the cake, the blue ribbon, and the trophy.”

I stroked my c**k as he stroked my hole. “I’d rather have the cash.”

He chuckled just before he spit into his hand and just after he slid a spit-slick finger deep within my chute. “I bet you would,” he replied, digging in well past the knuckle, my body quaking as my hole clenched around his digit, balls swaying as the truck took a sharp corner.

“Barring that, a second finger might do the trick,” I added, voice thick as molasses, eyes watering, c**k leaking something fierce.

One finger came out, two went in. “Just remember to vote for me for boss of the year.”

I nodded and sank my ass into his hand. “You got it, Joe.”

“I sure as hell do, kid,” he groaned, two fingers worming their way inside, feeling every inch of cavity they could find, until a warmth spread through me that caused a bead of sweat to trickle down my face, which was now flush against the cold, hard glass.

When he stopped at a light, the road illuminated in red, I felt his fingers pop free, replaced by a warm, wet tongue as his calloused hands roamed my back and butt. The sound of lapping and licking filled the truck’s cabin, joined, of course, with my now incessant moaning. When the light turned green, he slapped my ass and took off.

“What if we get pulled over by a cop?” I nervously asked.

He snickered. “We ask him if he wants to join in, I suppose. Then hope the guy’s nice to look at. Or hung. Preferably the latter.”

I rubbed my tight, little hole. “Um, the former would be fine and dandy with me.”

The laughter repeated. “Don’t you worry none, kid; my pecker’s gonna stretch you out all you need.”

I gulped because, yes, I was indeed now worried. And excited. And so hard I could just about crack the window in front of me. In any case, my worry didn’t last too long, owing to the fact that we were pulling up to his house a few minutes later. Then I was once again naked, hard, and standing outside.

“That thing ever go down?” he asked as he led me to the front door, again with his hand wrapped tight around my c**k and my clothes under his arm.

“Not usually, no,” I replied.

“Lucky you,” he said as he walked me inside.

I stared down at my arcing seven inches. “You hear that, boy? Lucky you.” It bobbed as if replying that it was already well aware of its luck.

Then the door clicked behind us and my heart stopped beating for just a moment. I turned to my boss-turned-host, his work pants already tenting, the smile on his face spreading like wildfire. He pointed down at his crotch. “I think I have a playmate for yours.”

I gulped. “Let’s hope they play well together then.”

Joe laughed. “Not too worried about that.”

He led me to the bedroom next. I hopped onto his king-sized bed, head resting on a fluffy pillow, and eagerly watched the show unfold, the only spectator blocking my view being my ever-attentive d**k.

He kicked off his boots first, then unbuckled his belt, eyes on me all the while, those orbs of blue like glittering sapphires. He yanked his shirt out of his slacks, then unbuttoned it, top to bottom, chest hair revealed, a thick matting of it, then pecs and rigid n*****s, a surprisingly flat belly considering his line of work, and lastly, torso and arms.

All of it was covered in a wiry, brown down, as if man and beast had merged. He looked, in fact, so not like me, it was a wonder we were even the same species. Then I glanced down at my nearly hairless body, wondering if some day I’d wake up and look like him, if I’d transform, emerge from this boyhood cocoon of mine. Thankfully, I quickly realized, my c**k was already all man.

His hands then moved to his work slacks, the button unbuttoned, zipper slid down, material pushed off, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. They were tenting so much, I half expected a circus act to dart out. He grinned as he swayed the beast within, while I glanced down at legs so thick they looked like tree trunks—hairy tree trunks, but still. He reached for the waistband of his underwear next.

“Wait,” I rasped, hopping up as I swung my legs off the side of the bed. “Let me.”

He moved his fingers away. “By all means, kid.”

I set my hands on his wide hips, grabbing on to the thin material. Down I yanked, thick bush revealed, thick shaft next, thick c**k springing out, the wide, helmeted head already slick with sticky precome. My d**k was longer, but his was wider by far, my asshole silently griping in anticipation at what was to come next. Or, better yet, who.

I craned my neck down, inhaling the scent of him, musk and sweat and frying grease all combining in one heady mixture as my tongue licked the head. Acridly sweet droplets of jizz hit the back of my throat as my lips moved in and around and down his pulsing flesh. He grabbed the back of my head and coaxed me further, a happy gagging tear meandering down my cheek as my mouth and throat completely filled with his rod.

He stared down as I stared up, my hands now cupping his mammoth, hairy balls. I gave a tug; he groaned in appreciation. I pulled harder and his knees buckled, head thrown back, mouth in a pant, all while he slowly face-f****d me.

“Harder, kid,” he grunted. And so I stretched his sac to its limits, balls now so low that they were practically in another zip code. “Yeah, kid. f*****g yeah.” Then he stared my way again. “And speaking of fucking.”

I popped his spit-soaked prick out of my mouth. “Um, about that…”

He grinned and ruffled my hair. “Don’t worry, kid; I’ll be gentle.”

Gazing up at his wide expanse of muscle and flesh and dense carpeting, I seriously had my doubts. Still, though his peg seemed much larger than my hole, it was indeed designed to fit, so up the bed I slid again with him following close behind.

When I stopped, he kept going, until his face was a mere few centimeters from mine and then not even that. His scruff itched, but his lips were soft as a cloud as his tongue coiled with mine. He exhaled down my throat as he tweaked and twisted my eraser-tipped n*****s, while I in turn squirmed beneath him, c***s grinding together. He then just as suddenly pulled away and asked, “Ready for the main event?”

I nodded, though I was fine and dandy with the pre-show. Then I watched him retrieve some lube and a rubber from the side table before he lifted my feet onto his broad expanse of hirsute shoulders, his c**k suddenly knocking at my rear door.

“f**k me too hard,” I informed him, “and I won’t be able to bus tables tomorrow.” It was an idle threat, but it was all I had to work with.

He craned his neck down as mine went up to greet it. “Gentle as a kitten, kid,” he whispered. “Promise.”

I sighed as my head again hit the pillow, louder as he lubed up my prick and hole, a million volts of electricity suddenly coursing through me as he worked both of them with his adept sausage-thick fingers. My sigh went loudest of all when his now-rubbered-up prick breached my walls.

Slowly, he entered, caressing my prick all the while, until the head was in and I could at last exhale. My eyes stayed locked on his as he kept on going, my asshole clenching around his fat prick, heels digging into his shoulders, teeth sinking into my lower lip.

“Damned tight, kid,” he groaned.

“Damned thick, Joe,” I groaned on back.

He continued groaning as he pushed and prodded, until, at last, he was in like Flynn, hairy balls brushing up against hairless ass, like we were a yin-yang, opposing sides. But like they say, opposites attract, and by then I sure as hell was attracted. And raging hard in his grip. And bumping and grinding my ass into his crotch, aching for everything he had.

Suffice it to say, you should be careful what you wish for.

Because yes, he very quickly gave me everything he had.

With both guns. Or at least one very big cannon.

Out his c**k went, hovering in midair before slamming back in, every nerve ending in my body shooting off Fourth of July fireworks. Out, in. Out, in. Slam, slam, slam! Until my body was vibrating and my c**k was ready to explode.

“Gonna come,” I soon panted.

“Tell me about it,” he panted in return.

“Fuuuck!” I howled, c**k erupting in his slicked up, jacking grip, a stream of white-hot come flying up, arcing wide, and hitting my shoulder and the side of the pillow, another stream quick to follow, dousing his belly and my belly, his chest and my chest, so much come that I’d have to eat a refrigerator full of beef to replenish my protein stores.

His head threw back as he pounded his c**k one final time into my ass, filling it and that rubber with his own apparently heavy load, sweat flinging off of him as he came and came and came some more.

Fighting to catch his breath, he again stared down at me. “f**k, kid, you keep this up and you’ll be waiting tables in no time instead of bussing them.”

I chuckled as I pointed to my still rigid prick. “It’s always up, boss.”

He pulled out and collapsed by my side, hairy and sweaty arm resting atop my rapidly expanding and contracting chest. “Guess we’ll have to order some more neon then.”

A snort joined my chuckle. “Eat at Chuck’s?”

He nodded. “I just did, kid,” he replied, a kiss landing on my cheek. “Best meal I’ve had in ages, too.” He sighed as he rolled onto his back. “Best meal in f*****g ages.”