Public Warrior Dating

Trane fucked me in the bed of the truck on a thin pile of army blankets we found back there. He stripped us both down and knelt at my chest, his beefy legs encasing my chest; one arm was stretched out gripping a handle at the base of the roofline behind the cab and his other hand was buried in the hair on my head, manipulating my head as his thick, long, hard cock stretched my throat.

If I’d had dreams of getting it rough, they were being fulfilled once again.

We were both naked, except that he was still wearing his equipment belt. He asked me if I’d like him to do that, and I answered that, yes, I’d like that—seeking the sensation of being fucked by another hunky public warrior.

He sat on the tailgate of the truck and bent me, naked, over his lap, holding my torso down with a strong arm across my back. After spanking me with his hand, telling me to relax for him and given in completely, and he was convinced I was letting loose of all my tension and wouldn’t fight him, he strapped my ass and thighs with my folded belt while I whimpered and sobbed in low tones until my ass must have blushed up. I didn’t ask him to stop, though, and he could clearly see that it made me hard. I could feel that he was hard too.

“He did have a big one, didn’t he?” Trane asked. He had more than one finger in my ass. “Reamed you big, he did.” And then I gasped, gave a little yelp, and started panting hard, as he worked the butt end of his flashlight in me and twisted it and pumped it slightly.