“Oh, you fucking stud, yeah, that’s the way, man, that feels good.” He kept up a steady stream of talk while I worked his nipples over with my tongue before bringing it down and starting work on his navel. His back arched up, and I pinched both nipples hard.

His legs came up around my head, resting on my shoulders as I took his cock in my mouth, and as I worked it, his legs came together, squeezing gently against my head. Just enough pressure for me to know they were there, not hard enough to hurt. They felt awesome there, and then I brought my hands to his quads and ran them up and down them while I suckled his cock.

He put both hands on my head. “Dude, you’ve gotta stop or I’m gonna come, and I don’t wanna come yet.”

I pulled back from his cock and looked up at the gleaming torso, the beautiful face smiling down at me.

“I want you to fuck me,” he said. “I want you to come inside me.”

“I thought you said no anal.”

He pulled me up alongside of him, and put his arms around me. “That’s a rule I have to start with, until I meet the guy and know what he’s like. I don’t let just anyone fuck me—but you’ve gotten me so fucking hot I have to have it.”

“What about your boyfriend?”

He shrugged. “I don’t have a boyfriend. That’s just my excuse.”

“I can’t believe you don’t have a boyfriend!” I ran my hand down his torso, and he shivered.

“Just unlucky that way. Never met anyone I wanted to be involved with—and besides, he’d have to wrestle.” He grinned at me. “That makes it a little harder, you know.” He pointed to the wedding ring on my left hand. “You’re married?”

“To a man. We’ve been together nine years.”

“Does he wrestle?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Does he know you do?”

“Yeah, and he doesn’t mind.” I shrugged. “There’s things he’s interested in that don’t interest me, so we kind of agreed to allow each other the latitude to explore.”

“Most guys aren’t that cool,” he said, placing his hand on my inner thigh. “Why couldn’t I have met you when you were single?”

“I would have never dared to talk to someone like you when I was single.”

He reached over and licked my neck for a moment. “That’s silly. Everyone is so afraid of guys like me, like they won’t measure up or something. You know, everyone is attracted to something different, you know? I really don’t like guys who are built like me.” He grinned. “Your body, on the other hand…” He grabbed my dick. “And this cock! Hell, man, I’ve gotta have that inside me. You sure you want to?”

“Hell yeah.”

He got up and walked over to his bag, pulling out a condom and a bottle of lube. He tore the package open with his teeth, then gently slid it down over my aching cock and squirted lube on it until it was nice and wet. He squirted some more into his hand, reaching back and lubing his ass.

He then lay down on the bed, his legs apart, and beckoned to me. “Come fuck me, stud.”

I knelt between his legs, and he spread his further, his eyes open and staring up at me. I grabbed my dick and guided it in between those massive cheeks till I found the tight little opening, and pushed gently. He moaned, then relaxed, and I slid my cock in about halfway before meeting resistance. He was growling, a low sound that only let up when he needed to breath in some more air, as I started sliding my cock slowly in and out, not trying to force it all the way in. Let him get warmed up and turned on some more, and then I’ll try, I figured. Besides, it felt good.

His eyes closed, and I started lightly punching his stomach as I slid in and out, and he started stroking his own cock.

“Yeah, that’s nice, you can punch harder.”

I started slamming my fists into his abs when I moved my cock out, letting him breathe as I went back in, and then, just as I thought, just as his legs got slick with sweat, the resistance gave and I plunged all the way in. His entire body bucked, his back arching, and his eyes flew open.

“Oh you fucking stud, fuck me, fuck me FUCK ME!!!”

I started moving faster, slamming my fists into his gut with greater power as I slammed my cock deeper inside him, and he kept groaning, and moaning, and then suddenly he was shooting a load, cum spitting out of the slit of his cock, his entire body jerking and a cry coming out of his lips with each shot. I stayed deep inside as he came, until he was finished and his body relaxed, then I slid out. I peeled the condom off and started stroking it.

“You didn’t come?” he asked, his eyes half shut. I shook my head. “What do you want me to do to help you?”

“Scissor my head,” I said, lying down. He swung his big legs around my head so that I was staring at his beautiful ass, and started squeezing. It didn’t take long—the feel of his legs and the sight of his ass had me shooting in maybe six strokes.

He let go of my head, and I got up and walked into the bathroom to grab a towel. I wiped my cum off me, then offered it to him. “You wanna shower?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I need to get running.” He wiped himself down and then gave me a big hug and a kiss. “Thanks, man, that was fucking awesome.”

I walked over to the nightstand while he got dressed and counted the money out, then held it out to him. “Here you go, Chase.”

He looked at me, then at the money. “Nah. Keep it.”

“You sure?”

“I enjoyed myself too much to take money.” He reached into his bag and handed me a business card with his name, a body shot, his phone number and e-mail address on it. “Next time you’re in town, give me a call. We’ll go to my friend’s ring.”

I got out one of my cards and handed it to him. “If you ever get to New Orleans—”

“You’re from New Orleans?” A big grin split his face.

“Yeah. Why?”

He started to laugh. “I’m from Baton Rouge. I get down there, I don’t know, four or five times a year.”

I laughed. “Well, you’d better fucking call me, then!”

He kissed me again, long and hard and slow. “Count on it, stud.”

The door shut behind him and I lay back down on the bed. I had about an hour before I had to get ready to meet my friends. The bed sheets were still damp from his sweat, and I buried my face in them, to drink in his smell. I lit a cigarette and blew smoke at the ceiling.

Well, definitely have something to look forward to the next time I come to Manhattan, I thought. Chase, in a ring? Man, oh man.

And I wondered when I could arrange another trip.

Blueboy

Kelly McQuain

Sometimes he thinks the ringing exists in his ears—a lingering symptom. But shrill waves of sound rise above engines idling outside. The noise billows yellowed curtains and cracks the plaster walls of this third-story walk-up. As the pay phone rings on the street corner below, Michael cradles his own phone against his ear and knows he is haunted.

The old rotary receiver in his hand is heavy and hard enough to crack a skull. Once, years ago, Michael considered using it for that purpose. A trick from the Bike Stop had gotten too rough—biting Michael’s back, drawing blood. Michael lay pressed face-down against the mattress, hands pinned hard against his spine, helpless beneath the weight from above. As the trick rode him harder, Michael fought to free himself. He wanted to grab the phone off the nightstand and clobber the creep. Wanted to smash the son-of-a-bitch’s brains, kick him out the door and down the stairs till his sorry ass spilled into the street.

But Michael’s wrists were locked; he couldn’t. Compliance lay embedded deep inside him, a wanting to let go that he muffled like a scream. His struggling slackened. As the trick bit flesh, Michael bit his own tongue, and pictured his father standing in the room watching with disgust.