Big-dick Bottom Pt. 05

~

The two guys in the woods didn't last very long fucking me. Certainly not long enough for me to get back to where I was, to make me come. When they were done with me, they zipped up and walked off without a word. After they'd gone, for a while, I just lay there, against the cool, rotting bark of the fallen tree, letting my thoughts evaporate into the night. Eventually, though, I pushed myself up. I stood in the small clearing, listening to the wind rustle the leaves in the trees around me. I looked down. My cock was standing ramrod straight out in front of me. Somehow, in the course of the evening, I'd taken four cocks and four loads but hadn't gotten the release I craved.

I gave my cock a few half-hearted strokes but it was already deflating. What I needed... I didn't know. But I knew I couldn't give it to myself. I sighed, frustrated, and pulled up my pants. As I limped back to my truck, I thought back to my conversation with Stacy. She'd expressed concern for me, worried that I wasn't being safe. I supposed she was right, I was putting myself at risk, out here in the woods, on the road, servicing random men at their houses. At best, I ran the risk of being discovered, outed, arrested. And at worst... the pains in my body served to illustrate.

In the last few months, I'd gone from being a sad, lonely virgin to, well, whatever I was now. The words of the men I'd sucked and fucked flooded through my mind... faggot slut, pussy bitch, cocksucker piece of shit. Is that who I was? My guts tingled with the nebulous, collective memory of all those mens' hands on me, their cocks in my mouth, their insults in my ears. Was Stacy right? Was I fucked up to be like this, to enjoy this? At this point in my life, though, what did I know, really? This was the only way I knew. The only outlet I'd been able to find to let out the dark energy that coiled inside me like a viper.

When I got back to the road, I shook a cigarette out of the pack I'd bought earlier in the week. I lit it up and stood leaning against the rear bumper of my truck. I watched a man emerge from the woods and hustle to his truck, head down, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. I wondered if it was one of the guys who'd just fucked me--whether this scuttling, scared man's cum was currently swirling inside me. The ache I felt in my ass started to rise up and claw its way around my heart, so I stubbed out my cigarette and drove home.

~

The next morning, I inspected the damage in the bathroom mirror. The cut on my lip had healed into an inconspicuous red line and, miraculously, there weren't any bruises visible on my face. There was a dark, blue-purple splotch on my neck, but it was only barely noticeable when I put on a collared shirt.

My ass, thighs, and upper arms were another story. I was seriously black and blue from how rough Zach and the ginger had been with me. There were marks on my chest and belly from where they'd punched and kneed me. When I twisted around to inspect my hole, I saw a red, swollen mess. And there were hand prints all over my ass cheeks and lower back. I ached all over, but the pain was just an echo of what I remembered from the assault.

It was early. I hadn't slept well. It was Friday. I heard my parents downstairs, clattering around as they prepared for work. I stayed upstairs until I heard them leave. I didn't want to run the risk that they'd see my injuries and start asking questions.

Earlier, in bed, I'd heard the neighbors start to work in their yard, but I didn't pull my curtain back to watch them. Somehow, the idea of seeing him--the ginger--made my guts twist and my asshole cramp. The vacant, desiccated blue of his eyes and the burnt redness of his skin... Christ. The more I thought about it the more I suspected that he had orchestrated the whole thing, yesterday. He surely knew by now that I worked at Pizza Hut, he must have seen me in my work clothes--seen my hat. He probably told Zach to order pizza for his party. And then... I winced.

I'd spent so many hours fantasizing about him, and now I'd tasted the reality of getting what I wished for. Fear and lust curled together in my belly. On one hand, there was the satisfaction of being thoroughly dominated, used, roughed up... but at the same time, I felt I was edging ever closer to a dangerous violence that I sensed lurked at the core of him. I was starting to scare myself, too, by how powerfully I was drawn to that flame. A shudder passed through me as I had these thoughts, in anticipation of what might happen if we crossed paths again.

Thinking of the neighbors reminded me that I still needed to replace the flowers of theirs that I'd flattened. Shit. I needed to do that today, this morning before work. Once my parents left, I pulled out the yellow pages and looked for a garden center. I called one that I remembered having visited with my grandmother once, years ago. I confirmed that they were open and had chrysanthemums. I grabbed some bills from my shoebox and headed off.

~

I was one of the only people at the garden center this early. I walked in through the main entrance and saw a pair of elderly women perusing bird houses and wind chimes. I walked through the main building and out into the back lot where there were long tables holding plants of all different types--annuals, perennials, shrubs, ferns... it was overwhelming.

I wandered around for a while, my body still aching from last night. It was shaping up to be a hot day. Overhead there were was some shade netting stretched over different sections of the plants, but the sun was already high in the sky and I started sweating. The collared shirt I was wearing wasn't helping. It was made from some sort of polyester material that...

"Can I help you find something?"

The voice cut through my discomfort and I whirled around to see--holy shit. It was Beercan.

"I, uh..." I said, grasping at the edge of the table nearest to me.

Beercan, in his black garden center uniform--pants, shirt and cap--looked younger and slimmer than at the foyer of his house, where he was usually wearing either a bathrobe or flannel pajamas. It was clear that he recognized me, too, since he took a step back when he saw my face.

"Um, I'm looking for some chrysanthemums," I managed to say, through the shock of mutual recognition.

Beercan had recovered his composure. He smirked. "Sure," he said, "follow me."

I glanced down at his crotch. It bulged conspicuously in the tight, black jeans he was wearing. I knew what was lurking there, the insanely fat cock that he had. I envisioned it, the head of it, pushing against his underwear and the flat zipper of his tight jeans, just waiting to push out its fat massiveness, waiting for a pair of lips to...

"Here we are," he said, gesturing at a table filled with pots of robust blooms.

"Wow," I said, watching him swivel around and point his fat bulge at me. "I need, like, two or three of your, like, healthiest ones."

"Sure," he said. He scanned the containers of flowers and pulled out one pot after another and set them on the ground. The blooms were gorgeous--thick and supple, and spanned the spectrum of colors--red, purple, peach, white.

"How's that?" he asked, looking at me as he pulled containers out of the mass of flowers.

"Great," I said, genuinely impressed.

"OK, you choose, then," he said.

I looked at the array of choices before me. My eyes kept drifting to his crotch, which he adjusted with the back of his hand. My jaw was still sore from getting around Zach's cock the night before. But... I gulped. It was Beercan.

"I might need a closer look," I said, dropping to my knees.

In the end, I got a really good deal. Five containers of flowers for the price of three. Twelve ninety-nine, plus a bag of fertilizer thrown in on top. Beercan helped me load my purchases into my truck. Before he wheeled the cart away, he patted my butt.

"See you soon, kid," he said, winking at me.

~

Back at the house, I unloaded the flowers and fertilizer into my garage. I coughed and cleared my throat, and hocked up a wad of phlegm. Or, I supposed it could have been cum. Damn. Beercan always left me a little hoarse.

I walked down the driveway to inspect the damage I'd done to the neighbor's flower bed. It was worse than I'd remembered. There was a deep, tire-width path of destruction through the soil. Christ, I must have been really out of it when I'd driven home after that night at Mario's. Good thing I'd bought extra flowers. I fetched a spade and started to dig at the flattened area of dirt.

~

It was probably around eleven when I saw a large shadow cut across the divot of dirt I'd dug up. In spite of the heat, I shivered at the sight of the outline of bulky shoulders and a thick torso that loomed over the trench. I looked up, expecting to see neighbor daddy, expecting to be berated, or worse, for the work that I'd done so far. But when my eyes adjusted to the bright light, I saw that it wasn't neighbor daddy, but his son--son #1, looking down at me.

I reeled back a bit. Up close, he was bigger than I expected. I'd only ever really seen him from afar, from my bedroom window, and even then, my eye had usually been drawn away to his brother or his dad. I realized now that he was actually taller than his daddy, and more muscular, though without as prominent a belly. He was, as usual, wearing a tank top and loose-fitting mesh shorts. Between his legs, I saw the outline of a thick, cut dick head.

My spade was buried in the dirt. He reached over and grasped the wooden handle and then yanked it out. In his large hand, the wooden shaft seemed minuscule. He looked at me with narrowed eyes.

I took a step back, trying to make myself even smaller, not sure what to say, afraid of what he was going to do.

"You're not digging deep enough," he said, quietly, looking down at the trench I was digging. His voice was a deep baritone, like his dad's.

He grasped the spade with both of his hands and drove it into the earth, then stamped on the edge of the blade with his booted foot. I saw his crotch bounce with the force of his footfall.

I watched as he, in the course of just a few minutes, re-dug the divot that I had labored at for the last hour. When he stopped and looked at me, breathing hard, leaning against the handle of the spade, I saw that he had widened and deepened the trench of earth in every dimension.

"Um, thanks," I said, tentatively.

He nodded, but didn't reply. I walked over to where I'd unloaded the chrysanthemums from my truck. I felt son #1's eyes on me as I brought the containers of flowers over to the divot, one by one. I tried to arrange them in a pattern that matched the rest of the bed.

I looked up at him. Good God, in the bright mid-day sun, he cut an incredibly handsome figure. His musculature was beautiful and his dark coloring--the shadow of stubble on his face and the dark hair on his arms and the exposed bit of his chest--was a perfect accent to his body. His thighs strained the rims of the legs of his shorts and, well, his bulge... I felt my dick start to stir.

How had I not paid more attention to him? I swallowed past a lump in my throat. He bent and repositioned two of the containers I'd placed in the hole.

"There," he said, and looked me in the eye. He had deep, hazel-colored eyes that seemed to soak up all the light around them.

Just then, a truck screeched in to the neighbors driveway. Son #1 tossed the spade down and trotted back to his yard. I watched the mounds of his ass bounce in his shorts as he jogged away.

Neighbor daddy and the ginger stepped out of the truck. Daddy looked over at me and adjusted his belt, then spit onto the driveway. The ginger smirked and cocked an eyebrow at me. I looked away from them, stomach churning, and busied myself pulling a chrysanthemum plant out of its container and shaking the wet dirt from around its roots.

Neighbor daddy went to the back of his truck and pulled down the hatch. The bed of his truck was filled with large concrete paving stones. The ginger and son #1 started to unload the stones and carry them into the back yard. Daddy lit a cigarette and squatted on his front stoop, watching the three of us work.

It took me another hour to get all the flowers planted and the bed back into good shape. My body, still sore from the pounding I'd endured just last night, was throbbing with pain from the physical effort of gardening in the hot sun. But I didn't dare do a shitty job. I took the time to make sure everything was just so. Once I'd finished, I got a broom and swept the stray dirt off of both the neighbor's driveway and our driveway.

I heard a crunching of boots and looked up to see neighbor daddy stalking toward me. His shirt was off and the hair on his chest and shoulders was slicked with sweat. He came to stand at the edge of the flower bed. He pulled off his ball cap and ran a hand through his thick, silvered hair as he inspected my work.

He grunted and nodded and seemed almost a little disappointed. Then he walked around to my side of the driveway, with his eyes set on me. I tried to shuffle away from him but he grabbed my arm and pulled me to stand in front of him. With his other hand, he pulled back the collar of my shirt and looked at my neck, inspecting the bruises that his son had given me the night before. He sniffed and gave me a jeering, knowing grin. Then he pressed my hand into his crotch. Through his jeans, I felt the thick, hard shaft of his erection.

"Done good work, boy," he said, lips close to my ear.

"Th-thanks," I stammered. He rubbed my hand slowly up and down the rigid shaft of his cock. I couldn't believe he was doing this in the broad light of day. Then he stopped, and squeezed my wrist hard enough that I yelped with pain.

"Don't fuck with my yard again," he said. There was a sneering glint in his eye and my chest tightened with apprehension. There was a jolt of pain in my asshole as my battered sphincter tried to constrict.

"I won't, sir," I said.

He released my hand. Clutching the broom, I scurried back to my garage and slammed my palm onto the garage door button. As the door closed, I let myself shudder with relief. My erection thrummed in my pants. The fear I had of neighbor daddy and his son--both of his sons--sent adrenaline shooting through me. I hesitated to think of what would have happened to me if I'd fucked up fixing the flowers... which I definitely would have, if the older son hadn't come to help. Was he looking out for me? That seemed unlikely. More plausible he only approached me because he was sizing me up, marking me for a future humiliation--a future violation.

I closed my eyes and let the relative safety and cool air of the dark garage soothe my mind and my sweaty body. I needed to clean up, change clothes, and get ready for work.

~

At the restaurant, Mario was in rare form.

"Hey, hey, it's Friday!" he yelled, each time he came through the swinging doors back into the kitchen. He was in a good mood because he'd managed to hire two new waitresses. He'd been training them all week. And, according to the chatter in kitchen, the girls were "bangin".

Stacy was off today, taking her grandmother to a medical appointment. Another assistant manager, Amanda, who occasionally worked earlier shifts, was covering for her. When Mario swept into the kitchen, he would grab Amanda and they'd do a little dance as he crooned show tunes. Derek and Jason rolled their eyes, but I knew they were jealous. I'd heard endless talk about Amanda's "huge fuckin' rack" over the last month. Amanda, for her part, seemed to enjoy Mario's attention. She was wearing a low-cut top that definitely wasn't hiding anything from view. I was a little envious watching Mario fawn over her, but I could empathize with her giddiness. It was hard not to enjoy Mario's attention.

It was a busy night. Danny and I were both driving. Amanda wasn't as organized as Stacy--she didn't seem to grasp the concept of batching orders based on geographic location, which pissed Danny and me off, since it meant we were zigzagging inefficiently around town, always running late. And running late meant lower tips.

Nonetheless, given the volume of orders going out, it ended up being a pretty good night, tips-wise. By the time the restaurant closed and Mario inevitably invited all of us to Gio's, I had more than sixty bucks in my pocket. I was feeling better, too. The aches and pains from my encounter with Zach and the ginger had started to fade away.

~

At the bar, things got wild. Amanda went toe-to-toe with Mario, drinks-wise, which was not easy to do. It was a bigger group than usual--Mario had really whipped up a crowd. Becky, one of the new waitresses, came along with Amanda, Mario, Derek, Jason, Danny, and me. After a little while, the group of guys who had smoked weed with us at Mario's house the other night also showed up. Gio kept the beer flowing, and after a while he started racking up shots.

At one point, Mario brazenly put a full shot glass into Amanda's cleavage. She hooted and pushed her tits up into his face, and then, hands behind his back, he bent down to take the shot using just his mouth. The crowd roared when he executed the maneuver flawlessly. Then he put his arm around Amanda, lifted her up and twirled her around in the air. I laughed along with everyone but twinged with jealousy seeing how fixated he was on her.

I was sitting off to the side, sipping a pint of beer, wishing that Stacy was around to witness all of this so that we could laugh about it. It's not that I was having a bad time, but with Amanda and Becky around, it just seemed that all the guys were falling over themselves, being complete asses in their attempts to get the girls' attention. I glanced at the clock. I thought maybe I'd stay another half an hour, finish my beer, and then slip out.

More and more people came into the bar and soon it was packed. I decided to leave, but I needed to pee, so I slunk to the back hallway and kept an eye on the bathroom door for a few minutes in an attempt to avoid being in there with anyone else. I watched a couple guys go in and then come out. There didn't seem to be anyone else heading for the bathroom, so I went in and relieved my full bladder as quickly as I could. I was shaking the last drops from my dick when the door flew open. Mario walked in with two of the weed smoking guys.

"Hey, Paulie P!" Mario yelled when he saw me. I was furiously trying to stuff my dick back in my pants. Mario came over and grabbed my shoulders and swiveled me around to face the other guys.

"Show'em your dick, Paulie!" Mario shouted, pushing me toward the guys. "You gotta see the salami on this kid," Mario said, "it's fuckin' huge." He reached around and cupped his hand around my crotch and shook it at them.

The guys laughed, but one of them raised his hands and said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa--I ain't lookin' to see nobody's dick."

Finally, recovering from my shock, I pushed Mario's hand away from my crotch and wrenched myself out of his grip.

"What the fuck?" I said, glaring him. I was beyond mortified. Mario gave me an apologetic shrug but I could see by his glassy eyes that he was totally wasted. Furious, I yanked the door open and stormed out.

I was in the parking lot and fumbling my key into my truck door when I heard him call out. Fuck. Why couldn't I get my key into the damn lock?

"Paulie," Mario said, coming up behind me, short of breath. He put his hand on to the hood of the Blazer to steady himself. "Paulie, hey, buddy, I'm sorry," he wheezed.

I turned away from him but he grabbed my shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry, P," he repeated. His eyes were blue and huge and it looked like he was maybe even tearing up a little bit. I looked into his eyes, and melted, slumping against the door of my truck.