Big-dick Bottom Pt. 11

With a sudden give, his cock slid inside me. The thickness of him flared my hole wide and the stretch of it sent a spasm through my body. He shook his head and tried to pull out, but I grabbed his wrists and pushed them into his chest as I sank deeper onto his shaft, willing my body to relax and accept him. After a moment of pain, the sensations inside me teetered over into a intense mix of warmth and fullness.

He must have felt my pelvis relax, because he pushed up with his hips, driving his shaft all the way inside me. My cock jerked and pulsed with pleasure and he grasped it again, squeezing firmly and rubbing up the length of me.

A breeze picked up and blew across my skin. Air from somewhere else—some cool realm the heat of the day didn't touch. Goose flesh peppered my body. I began to move my hips on him, his large hands grasping my upper arms, rocking me on him, holding me up so that he could draw his cock out of me and then push it back in, ever so slowly.

The breeze intensified and I heard it move through the trees, a fluid rushing that encouraged me to move more urgently against him. The action of his hips and mine, working together, faster now, in a rhythm entwined with our breath. Every thrust was filling me to the edge of bursting, and when he pulled my head down to his and pressed his tongue to mine and pushed his cock deep inside me I finally let my thoughts go and gave myself over to him completely.

Wrapped in his arms, pressed against his chest, and legs splayed across him, his powerful hips pushed the thickness of his cock into me, spreading me open and thrumming insistently into my most vulnerable recesses, filling me with his manhood, his strength, his lust.

He began to thrust more and more powerfully. The great restraint that I sensed in him every time our bodies came into contact started to break down. His grip on my arms began to ache—his thrusts into my ass became more and more frenzied. When I looked down into his eyes, I saw that they had clouded over and for a terrifying second I saw not him but his father looking back at me.

Alarm pulsed through me. He was fucking me harder and harder. He reared up and flipped me over onto my belly, roughly, then buried his cock back into my ass, his great bulk crushing me painfully into the rock. I heard the sound of his hips slapping against my flesh and he was grunting—an animal, a beast. I began to panic but in that same moment, I felt my head begin to split down the middle with an orgasm that seemed to descend upon me from the sky. My body began to shake violently. He grabbed me tight, pinning me under the weight of him—his chest and belly and his massive, strong arms. He kept thrusting into me as I writhed with pleasured agony.

The orgasm did not relent—the muscles of my pelvis seized harder and harder with waves of contraction and my chest, too, convulsed, squeezing the air from my lungs. Desperately, I tried to push myself up off the rock and out from under him. But there was no leverage, I couldn't get out. Then, with a great roar, he began to come, too.

I felt his cum shoot deep inside me. Over and over, his body spasmed as he ground his hips into my ass and loaded me with his semen. Then, finally, I felt his torso and hips unlock. He rolled off of me. His penis pulled out of me and his body fell to lie by my side. I took in a rapid, unfettered breath. Oxygen hit my brain again and I came back from the panicked aftermath of my orgasm. He released his hands from me—I hadn't even realized he'd been grasping my arms as he'd fucked me.

I rolled over onto my back, breathing hard. My spent cock lay in a slick of cum on my bare skin—evidence of my orgasm, my ejaculation. In the throes of being fucked so hard, I hadn't even been aware of my own cock or cum. All I knew was the sensation of his cock inside me, his cum flooding my ass.

He reached for me and pulled me back to him. His touch was once again soft and gentle. He kissed my neck, and stroked the outside of my arms, where he'd grabbed me so roughly. I shivered in the cool air and he pulled me further into his arms. The small of my back pressed against his groin. I felt his still mostly hard penis slide in a cummy track across the top of my ass. He ground against me, kissing me the whole time, until I felt his cock was hard with fresh life, which sent a surge through me, too, and a moment later I was back on top of him, and he was pressing his cock into me again, pushing past my loosened hole and sliding into the cum-drenched depths of me.

I sat back, against his thighs and rocked down onto his cock. His hand was on my shaft, jacking me off and running his rough thumb along the sensitive under-ridge of my cock head. With his other hand he pushed past my balls and pressed his thumb into my taint, in time with the movement of his shaft in my hole.

We fucked like that, my body on top of his, for a few slow minutes until I was coming again, this time less violently, but still intensely. My thighs began to shake and he squeezed my cock at its base as he felt me start to orgasm. Cum shot out of my cock and hit his neck and shoulder, and he stroked me firmly, milking the semen from my shaft in slow, even pulses. He didn't come, just pressed himself up into me as I came, drawing out the last vestiges of my orgasm and staying inside me, hard and steady, as the last drips of fluid seeped from my cock slit.

I brought my trembling hands to rest on his broad chest. He released his grip on my cock and covered my hands with his. My hole twitched and spasmed around the base of his cock. I rocked forward on his hips.

"Oh, God," he moaned, letting go of my hands and grabbing my thighs. His fingers dug into my thigh muscles as I flexed and gyrated my ass on him.

A moment later his belly seized up, and he grunted and slammed his hips up into me. Again I felt the pulse of his cock in my ass, pumping more of his cum into me. I hung on to his arms so as not to get bucked off of him as he came, twisting and writhing on the rock underneath me. When he finally calmed, he wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand. I swung my leg over and rolled off of him. There was a loud sucking noise and I felt cum slosh out from my hole as his cock pulled out of me.

I lay down next to him again, on my side. His penis was still stiffly up-cocked, rising from his body. I reached for it and began to stroke him but he grabbed my wrist and drew my hand away.

"No," he said. "We have to stop. If we don't stop now... I won't be able to..."

He turned to look at me. "I can't control myself with you," he said.

"It's OK," I said.

"No it's not," he said. "You don't understand. It takes everything in me... not to..."

He sat up then, and put his elbows on his knees. His face was turned away from me. I rolled to the edge of the rock and put my arms around my knees, watching him. After a long moment, he spoke in a low voice.

"My dad and my brother... they'll be in prison, you know. For years. Maybe for life. The lawyers said... there's nothing we can do... it's over for them."

His words settled in my guts. I didn't say anything. The tone in his voice was hard to parse—equal parts sad, angry, and menacing. But his posture was slumped. Softened. It was like he was broken. He put his head back into his hands and covered his face.

"I know they were awful... terrible to you," he said. His voice was no more than a whisper now. "But... I can't... you don't understand. They're all I have. I promised my mom... that I would look after him—take care of him. Take care of both of them. And you... you took them away."

For a long moment we were both silent. I didn't know how to respond, what to say. Eventually, though, I felt I needed to say something.

"What about you?" I asked.

He jerked his head to glare at me. "Me? They released me, didn't they? Here I am, right?" he said. He raised his hands to his head, ran his fingers through his hair. "And what did I have to do... what did I have to say? What could I say? I had to tell the truth. About my brother... what he was like... the drugs. And my dad... what he did to us. After that, they let me go. It didn't matter that I knew they didn't kill that kid. It's like they didn't even care about that. All they wanted from me... were more excuses to lock them up."

When it was clear he wasn't saying anything more, I shifted toward him and put my hand on his arm. He flinched when I touched him, but he didn't move his arm away.

"Hey... I'm sorry," I said.

"You don't have to be sorry," he said. "I don't know what I would have done, in your place. At some point you had to protect yourself. You did what you had to do."

I squeezed his arm, gently. He grunted softly, in acknowledgment, but he didn't say anything. After a moment, he lay down back down on the rock. He pulled his shorts back up over his dick, which was still half-hard. I hesitated, then laid down next to him, close, but not touching. Both of us stared up into the sky.

"You're leaving," he said, after many minutes had passed.

I was startled. "How did you know?" I asked.

He turned to me then, rolling onto his side. He raised his hand to my face and carefully moved hair from in front of my eyes.

"I know about you," he said, and there was something tender in his voice now.

His hand lingered on my cheek. Then he put his hand on my chest, feeling my breath rise and fall. The print of his hand on my body made my skin burn and blood surge to my dick.

"When?" he said.

"Soon," I said, "Monday."

"Hmm," he said.

He was quiet for another long moment. He let out a deep breath and then gently rolled one of my nipples with his thumb, causing it to tighten and pucker. I felt my head start to cloud over with desire, but I took his hand in mine and lifted it away from my chest.

"What are you going to do?" I said.

He squeezed my hand gently. "I got plans," he said.

"What plans?"

"Go west, probably. Get work... Drive a truck, or go work on the sands," he said.

I felt a constriction in my throat, thinking about it, about how bleak it sounded. I envisioned him alone in a truck, driving across the dusty plains.

Suddenly, he pushed himself up to lean over me and his mouth was on mine, kissing me again. I kissed him back and arched my body up to meet him and his hands were around my back, pulling on my shoulder blades, pulling at my skin. I raised my thighs up to my chest and he was between my legs, his cock was out of his shorts and I felt his fingers at my asshole, spreading me open, guiding his dick inside me again.

I grunted when his slick hardness filled me, easy now, almost effortlessly, and I put my hands on his arms, felt the sinewy muscles of him as he moved over me. My cock was pressed between us, rubbing along the fur of his belly. My head tipped back in the pure ecstasy of being fucked by him, his body on top of me, his cock and his scent filling every last recess of me. He kissed my exposed neck, the rough-softness of his beard adding to the sensory overload of being his—completely his—for this moment in time.

After I'd come, and he'd come, he pushed himself up to his knees. I lay there, trembling, my legs splayed to either side of him, knees bent. I felt the rubbery grip of my tennis shoes on the rock beneath me. Neither of us spoke. He just knelt there, tracing the insides of my thighs with the outsides of his hands. A moment later, he pushed himself up to stand.

"Good luck, Paulie," he said, pulling his shorts up.

He stood up on the rock and turned away.

"What? Wait!" I said, pushing myself up and scrambling to my feet. But by the time I was up, he was gone, over the lip of the rock.

I grabbed my shorts and pulled them back on over my shoes, yelling his name—yelling for him to stop, to wait. But when I hopped down off of the rock, I didn't see him. I ran toward the woods and yelled his name again. But all I heard was the wind blowing in the trees and the calls of the insects.

I ran back to my truck but he wasn't there. I looked up and down the road. There were no other cars or trucks. We were miles from anywhere. For a frenzied few seconds I thought about driving around to look for him, but after a minute, I calmed down.

I walked back through the woods to the rocks and found the rock where we'd just fucked. I climbed back up onto it, found my shirt and used it to wipe up the cum that was still clinging to my skin. It was too hot to put my shirt back on—the cool breeze from before had disappeared.

My eye caught on a crumpled mass at the edge of the rock. I walked over and picked it up. It was his tank top. I brought it to my face and smelled it—the smell of him, the smell of his body and his chest and arms, the smell of sex with him, his great, bridled power, his gentle kisses, the night at the cabin in the storm.

I held both of our shirts in my hands, and looked up at the bright, hot moon. Then, I chucked the shirts down into the pit of the quarry, down into the glistening water that lay below.

//

At around seven the next morning, I heard my dad calling up the stairs. I lifted my head from my pillow, groggy.

"Paul, come downstairs, please" my dad yelled. I could tell from his tone that he was impatient to leave the house for work.

I hauled myself out of bed and pulled on a clean shirt. Dried cum flaked off my chest and neck and drifted onto the floor. My asshole felt tender and swollen as I walked out of my room and down the hall to the stairs. I hoped that I didn't reek too much of, well, sex.

My mom and dad were standing at the foot of the stairs, dressed for work. My mom clutched at her purse, nervously.

"Paul," my dad said when he saw me at the top of the stairs.

I hesitated at the landing, not sure what they had in store for me.

"Paul, we think it would be best if you didn't work this weekend," my dad said.

I wrinkled my brow in confusion. "What? Why?" I said.

"Well, there's the dinner at your grandparents' on Sunday, and tomorrow..." he glanced at my mom, "your mother would like to take you shopping, over at the outlets. You know, for clothes and other incidentals you'll need at school."

Incidentals, I thought. Classic dad.

"Is that OK, sweetie?" my mom said.

It dawned on me that I hadn't given any official notice at work that I was leaving. And that if I didn't work the weekend... and today was Friday... this would be my last day. Shit. There was a sudden constriction in my throat.

"Yeah, sure," I said. "Um, I'll talk to them today."

~

When I got to work, Amanda was there, leaning over the counter where Derek, Jason, and Ryan were making pizzas. The boys were rolling dough and shooting the shit, trying to make Amanda laugh. All three of the guys were stealing frequent glances at Amanda's rack, which was out in its full glory today.

"Hi Paulie!" Amanda called over to me when she saw me walk in. She seemed to be in a good mood, and the atmosphere in the kitchen seemed lighter than it had been all week. I took the list of deliveries from Amanda and made my way to the rack of hotbags.

"Hey, hey, it's Friday!"

My heart thudded when I heard his voice, the familiar off-key baritone, as Mario blew into the kitchen through the swinging double doors. I heard Amanda giggle as he continued to croon, "Friday is the best day, Friday makes me want to play."

I stepped from behind the rack and saw Mario slow dancing with Amanda, their cheeks pressed together. As he turned, he saw me, and his face broke into a big smile.

"Hey it's the big man himself!" Mario yelled.

Mario stopped dancing with Amanda and came bounding over to clap a hand on my shoulder. I flushed red. It had been ages since he'd touched me, and I couldn't remember when he'd last smiled at me. It was like the sun had turned on again.

"It's Friday, P!" he said, pulling me by the shoulder back toward the counter where Amanda and the guys were all standing. "You know what that means?"

I looked at Amanda and the boys and we all said, in unison, "This calls for a celebration!"

Mario laughed and pulled me into his chest to give me a rough nuggie. I felt the give of his big, soft chest through the fabric of his shirt and I inhaled the smell of him. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to collapse into his arms and feel his body pressed against me, feel his lips and taste his whiskey breath in my mouth. My dick swelled in my pants.

"OK, OK," Amanda said, with an annoyed tone in her voice. "Paulie, those pizzas aren't going to deliver themselves," she said.

Mario released me from his grip, and tousled my hair. I pulled my head away from him and straightened my shirt down over my bulging crotch, then hustled back to the delivery rack to grab the hotbags. My face was flushed with heat. I felt filled with light as it seemed that the chill of the last few days had lifted. That was the power of Mario—back to his old self and everyone at the restaurant was feeling it.

I smiled as I carried the pizzas out to my truck, but that's when I remembered, suddenly, that I had forgotten to talk to him about leaving. A lump formed in my throat that I couldn't swallow past.

~

The day went by fast. Every time I was back at the restaurant I told myself that I would pull Mario aside, into the office, to let him know. But every time I came back, the spirits in the restaurant seemed to be higher and more jovial. Mario's energy seemed to have come back spring-loaded, as if the previous several days' funk had served to supercharge the joyful energy that had been repressed.

When Stacy showed up around three she was initially gloomy, just like she had been all week, but even she was eventually buoyed by Mario's contagious cheerfulness. I even saw her waltz around the kitchen a few times in Mario's arms, something I'd never seen her do before.

When, during the dinner rush, Stacy handed me a list with the addresses of both Beercan and the sad dad, I felt the wind go out of my sails. Stacy gave me a bemused look when she saw me react to the list. "A twofer, huh, Paulie?" she said, with a wink. "Better hippity hop to it."

~

At Beercan's house, I handed over the pizza but didn't walk into the foyer when he held the door open for me. Beercan gave me a confused look, and then more insistently waved at me with his head to get inside. I swallowed and studiously avoided looking at his crotch.

"That'll be nine ninety-nine, sir," I said.

"Hey, what the fuck, kid?" Beercan said.

I dropped my gaze. "Nine ninety-nine," I repeated, quieter.

He exhaled loudly and set the pizza down on the back of his couch, like he usually did when I blew him in the entryway. He grabbed his wallet and rifled through it. He thrust two fives at me and I took them. He pulled another five from his wallet and held it in his hand, just out of my reach.

"Are you sure you don't...?" He waved the five at me.

I met his gaze and held it for a second. "Enjoy your pizza, sir," I said, and then I turned and left.

My heart thumped as I drove off. When I had walked up his steps, I fully expected that I would go in, kneel on his grimy linoleum entryway floor and suck his cock. It's just... what I did. So I was surprised to hear myself—feel myself—reject him. I shuddered with the strangeness of the feeling, the steely power I felt in my hands as I gripped the steering wheel.

When I pulled into the driveway at sad dad's house, I saw that the garage was open and the minivan was gone. At the entrance to the house I hadn't even rung the bell when the door flew open and the sad dad, wearing his workout clothes again—a ratty T-shirt and frayed sweatpants—reached for me and pulled me inside. The pizza I was holding went flying onto the floor as the dad yanked me by the arm into the formal living room and thew me over the back of a sleek, white couch.