Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

Mike walked north on Beach Street and turned west on 8th, headed into the darker and seedier part of town. He was staying in what almost was a flop house. It was all he could afford. This was a trip to the beach just for himself, coming out of high school. His parents hadn't approved, but they'd said nothing when he insisted he needed to do this, although of course he hadn't told them what exactly he thought he needed to accomplish on the trip. He was eighteen, his own man now. They were just pleased that he'd stuck with the academics and not completely obsessed himself with soccer. They couldn't deny that that obsession had gotten him a scholarship to college, though.

He hadn't realized how dark it could be at night a few blocks off Beach Road. He was apprehensive and a bit keyed up. He'd never drunk as much beer as he did tonight. But then he'd never been fucked before as he was that afternoon. Yes, a few mutual hand jobs and beating off together with a vid running. Even only slightly veiled offers from his soccer coach, who flashed him with a big cock occasionally. But never all the way, and it didn't really count, he didn't think, that, after the hints and flashing from his coach, he had to go off and beat himself off.

Of course now he was eighteen, no longer in high school, no longer a player for the soccer coach, and initiated.

The actual fucking with Larry had been better than he had imagined, and he knew this was a lifestyle for him from now on. He'd probably even go back in and visit his soccer coach after this trip and let the coach do to him what he wanted to do. The coach was cut and he was hung. Mike knew that from the showers and the flashings. He had to admit that he was thinking of his coach off and on while Larry was fucking him. Larry was experienced. But he wasn't hung.

If Larry had been hung like the soccer coach was, maybe Mike would have felt he'd done enough. But he wasn't.

As he walked, Mike's mind wandered to going into the high school gym after hours and finding only the soccer coach there, coming, naked, out of the showers, his manhood hanging low, but rising as he sees Mike standing there, also naked. Mike on his back on a massage table, the ankle of one leg hooked on the coach's shoulder and the coach holding the other, as he forces that big cock inside Mike's channel and Mike arching his back and panting hard. The feeling like Larry gave him in penetration, but taxing his walls to open to it more, digging deeper, more possessive in the stroking, more one with the soccer coach in the rhythm of the fuck, much, much more . . .

Were those footsteps behind him? Mike turned onto Main and then zagged onto 9th. The footsteps were still there.

"Dark out here, isn't it? Bet you are thinking now that you'd like to have someone walking with you."

The tall, muscular Texan, Tex. Mike murmured something as the Texan came up beside him, but even he didn't know what he was saying. He began to hyperventilate, though, as the Texan put a strong arm around him and virtually propelled him down the walk . . . and then into an alley.

The Texan grabbed Mike's crotch, and laughed, no doubt thinking Mike's hardness was for him rather than in fantasizing about the soccer coach. But then as the Texan rubbed Mike's crotch hard, and Mike shuddered, thinking of the Texan's boot grinding his crotch back at the poker table and Tex's whisper of the good time he could show Mike, and the image of the man's hard cock pushing against the faded material of his jeans, the hardness did turn to being for him.

"Hard for Mr. Big, ain't you," the Texan muttered.

Mike's answer was lost in a moan.

Tex pushed Mike up against a cinderblock wall in an alley so dark, that the darkness out on the street now seemed to be light. He had his hands all over Mike and was pulling Mike's T-shirt over his head. The Texan already had his cowboy shirt unbuttoned and pulled out of his jeans. His chest was massive, his nipples taut in prominent, dark aureoles.

"You want me. We both know that," he growled. "Teasing me at the table like that. Once you'd held the heel of my boot to your crotch, the deal was set. You're a saucy little piece."

"Here, you can have the money," Mike said. "Just let me go." The "just let me go" was a bit half hearted, as Mike was thoroughly aroused at this rough treatment.

Tex laughed like he knew Mike was only struggling because he was innocent to this. "I don't want your money," he answered. "I want your mouth and your ass. And you want my dick."

He grabbed Mike's hand and shoved it between his legs. Mike whimpered at the massiveness of the bulge and at the realization that he could actually feel the line of the hard cock through the material. "This is for you. Nine inches of it," Tex said, proudly.

The Texan pushed Mike down on his knees, his heavy body still pressing Mike against the wall. His fly was open and his hard dick was out. Mike resisted but to no avail, as Tex got five inches of it stuffed into Mike's mouth. "You treat it right now, boy, and it will treat you right."

The shaft was huge in girth as well as length, and Mike's eyes watered and he gagged as Tex started to move it in and out of his mouth, penetrating ever deeper down his throat. The Texan held Mike's head between his hands, holding Mike prisoner in that position and guiding the pumping. They both settled down to a rhythm. Mike's moans of pleasure and the voluntary attention he gave the cock betrayed him.

Tex laughed. "I knew you wanted it." And, as embarrassed and disgusted as Mike was, he realized that he did want it—that he'd been fantasizing about it for years. What he had dreamed of in his imagination was here for him in the flesh. He settled down, palmed the Texan's buttocks, and took over the rhythm of the slide of his mouth on the cock. Laughing, the Texan released his head and let Mike do the work for a couple of minutes.

Content that the fresh piece had surrendered to him, Tex pulled him up by the hair, reversed him to where he was facing the cinderblock wall. Mike's arms were being raised above his head, Tex's fists grabbing his wrists. "Hold them there and jut your butt out to me," Tex commanded. Tears in his eyes, Mike responded as directed. He didn't want this. He did want this.

"God, don't be hard with me," Mike whimpered.

"I'll be very good to you," Tex answered, and laughed. "You're getting it all, baby. Daddy's gonna give it all to you."

Tex pulled Mike's jeans down, leaving him only in his sneakers, and went for the crevice in his buttocks with his lips and tongue and latched onto Mike's cock and balls with one hand, while holding Mike's pelvis away from the wall with the other hand palming his belly.

Mike shot his load. Tex laughed. "Pretty boy really wants it."

The young man's eyes were watering and he was panting and groaning hard, his cheek plastered against the cool cinderblocks, one of his arms—with no objection from Tex—lowering so that he could fist and beat his cock, as the Texan slowly worked his mammoth cock inside Mike's ass and pumped him hard and deep. Mike ejaculated again. A weaker production, but an explosion of emotion anyway.

Tex pulled out, turned him, back to the wall, muttered "Climb my hips," which Mike dutifully did with his knees, and Tex penetrated and began pounding his ass. Mike settled in completely with the fuck, with Tex chortling when Mike set his own pelvis into motion to receive the thrusts of Tex's cock and moaned a "Yes, yes, fuck me, daddy. Go deep. Yes, again and again." Memories of the porn movies again and what Mike assumed the Texan wanted to hear—both anxious that Tex continue stroking him and disgusted with himself for wanting it.

When Tex wanted to kiss, Mike opened to him. When Tex pushed Mike's face down onto his chest, Mike sucked his nipples. Tex pounded and pounded, until . . .

He too ejaculated, in an arcing stream up Mike's belly, having pulled his dick out at the last second. Tex didn't use condoms either. Having shot off, though, he pushed his dick back in, through the lube of his cum and slow fucked Mike until, with a sigh, Mike came again in just an afterglow.

With a laugh, Tex let Mike sink to the ground. He presented his cock for cleaning, and Mike dutifully sucked it dry.

"You wanted it. Yeah, you wanted it bad," Tex muttered. Then, reaching down for Mike's jeans, he fished around in the pockets and pulled out the roll of bills Mike had won at poker.

"Guess I will relieve you of this after all." He zipped up and sauntered off to the mouth of the alley and was gone.

Mike huddled there, still panting hard and checking in with all of his body parts for an assessment of damage done by the brutal fuck of the horse-hung cock. He was ashamed to admit it, but admit it he did. That's the way he wanted to be fucked—and with a huge cock like that. That's what he'd look for in a hookup.

It was worth losing his poker winnings. He'd won in another sense. He could go home now. Soccer coach, here I come, he thought.