Chapter 3 – Chapter 3

"You're back? For another tree? We don't take exchanges."

"It's OK, Eddie, I'll take this." I knew it was Dutch who had spoken before I turned to look in the directio of the voice.

Dutch turned to me. "In the office."

Knees knocking, I stumbled down a row of trees to the office that I knew was back there.

"You got $50?" he growled as he came into the office behind me. I moved to the desk and turned around. He already had both flannel shirts open and was unbuckling his jeans and pushing them and his briefs to the floor.

God he was big—and thick—I thought—both in fear and anticipation. I felt a vibration at the back of my throat. The nearest I could say was that it was a mewing sound. And I was breathing hard. I felt a thrill of a chill zip through me body. I wondered if this was what it was like for Karen as it started. Again, I envied her.

"Yes," I answered weakly. "And more, if . . ."

He laughed and advanced on me, trapping me between him and the desk. I felt my butt hitting the rim of the desk. I yelped as he jerked my head back with a hand grabbing the hair on the back of my head. He brutalized my lips with his, demanding entrance. I yielded to him and gasped and gagged as his tongue tried to swab my tonsils.

I writhed against him as he unbuttoned my shirt with his other hand and then reached down, unbuckled and unzipped me, and pushed my jeans to the floor.

He pulled away, looked in to my face and laughed when he realized I hadn't worn briefs.

I knew what I had come back for. The first time was an accident. Karen had chosen this place. I didn't know Dutch worked here. But this time. This time, this was my choice. Last time Dutch wouldn't have been sure. Since I came back, he was sure. And Dutch was a man of action. He was very sure of himself. He grasped my cock and began to pull in swift strokes, as I gasped. He still was brutally arching my back with a hand in my hair. I yelped when he moved his mouth down to my chest and closed his teeth over a nipple.

My eyes watered as he grasped my balls and pulled them down hard. One, two, three.

"Jingle balls, jingle balls, jingle all the way to the floor," he sang. Then he laughed. "Merry Christmas, Scotty. I told you you'd come back, didn't I?"

"Yes, yes, you told me that. Please, Dutch, please," I whimpered.

"Please get on with the $50 fuck? You're a special customer, Scotty. You came back for it. You get the special. For $75 of course."

"Oh Fuck!" I cried out as his mouth closed over my cock—all the way down—and he began to set up a throbbing by humming "Silver Bells."

This . . . this . . . is what I'm sure happened for Karen. What wasn't happening for me with Karen. Which, "Shit, fuck, oh god" was damn well happening with Dutch. My arousal soared. My hips started the rhythm of the fuck, and Dutch was pistoning my cock deep with his sliding mouth.

Dutch had spoiled me for anyone else. I'd picked him up in a bar. He had explicitly told me what $50 would get me. And he had delivered. Again and again. I tried to break away. The whole Karen thing was part of that. But Dutch had told me I'd come back to him. And here I was.

He pulled off my cock as I came and then rose back up to my face for me to clean my cum off his chin with my tongue. He moved into a possessing kiss again, as I panted in his embrace.

He trapped one of my legs running up his chest and held the other one out to the side wide. He was running the underside of his huge, hard cock up and down across my hole, my pelvis being rolled up to receive him. Wanting him.

"Oh, Dutch, please, please," I moaned when he released my lips.

"Please what? You came for a Christmas pine tree, but you want a huge oak instead?"

"Oh, god, Dutch. Fuck me now, please."

The thrust came as a painful surprise. Strong and deep. I clutched at the hard muscles of his back. A second thrust. Then a third, and I arched my head back and cried out to the ceiling.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, shit yes! This. This is fucking!"

Four. Five. Six.

"Oh, Christmas Tree, Oh, Christmas Tree. How sweet and tight is Scotty's channel." He laughed after he'd sung the phrase and then continued humming as he worked. He could call it work, since he was being paid for it. But Dutch obviously enjoyed his work—very much.

He was cruel and rough and brutal. And he was all of those things I needed—that I wanted—I was rising to those clouds and dancing on them. And I ejaculated again up his chest.

"How many rooms you got in that apartment of yours and the pretty little lady's?" he whispered to me after he, too, had shot off, again and again—as fireworks went off before my eyes—his cum burbling out of my channel and down across my butt cheek.

"Five," I answered back with a voice thick with satiation and capitulation.

"So, you'll need to come back for a tree for every room," won't you?

"Yes."

"But each room a separate trip, right?"

"Yes, oh yes."

"You got $25 more in that wallet of yours? For more today, I mean. Half price special."

"Oh fuck, yes."