My Name Is Alex

As he recovered, I was painfully aware of the throbbing hardness of my own cock. However, he didn't pull his cock out of my ass. Instead, he reached around and gripped my aching dick in a firm hand. I moaned, and this time there was no resisting. I wanted it desperately, mindlessly, and would have done anything for it. I bucked wildly against his hand, savoring the feeling. With each thrust I pumped into his hand, bringing myself closer to the edge. Each time I pulled back, I impaled myself again on his still-hard cock. It didn't take long at all to take me the rest of the way. My back arched and I pushed my ass and body back against him, writhing. I could feel his hard body, feel his beard. Thick jets of cum pumped out and covered his hand. I spasmed in bliss, working myself on his dick as I came, erupting stream after stream of hot pleasure. As I hung there in the final spasms of my pleasure, he slowly pulled his dick out of my now gaping ass, causing me to moan with every inch withdrawn. His shaft left my gaping hole with an almost audible pop, and I could feel the cum flowing out of me.

He walked around and resumed his previous position in front of me. Cum still dripped from my cock, and he reached out with his tongue, catching it in midair and swallowing it down. He worked his way up, taking my softening dick back into his mouth. The pleasure was extreme, the sensation too much, almost painful. I couldn't stop moaning and bucking, almost - but not quite - attempting to pull away from him. His mouth and tongue worked me expertly, licking and sucking every single drop from my cock. He alternated between my dick and my balls, licking every inch of my skin so not a single drop of semen was missed. When his lips finally slid off shaft for the last time, my dick was perfectly clean. He gave my cock head and single soft kiss and stood up to release my chains.

I lay there on the floor, covered in sweat. I could feel how gaped my asshole was, and I could still feel the cum inside me. As my asshole recovered I could feel his cum leaking out of me, and running down my leg and across the floor. I shivered, passionately, and knew that I would let him take my asshole any time he wanted. That I would beg to be filled and used. That I would get on my knees for him, place his hands on the back of my head, and service him. I remembered the musk of his cock and the way it filled my mouth. As my cock stiffened ever so slightly at the thought, I found myself craving his semen on my obedient tongue.

I took a few minutes to clean up as best I could, before putting my clothing back on. He was waiting for me upstairs at the desk, back in his normal clothing. Normal for him, anyway. I wasn't sure what to do, so I just made for the door.

He stopped me with a hand on my shoulder, halfway there. His hand reached down, to stroke along my chest, teasing a bit lower but not moving beyond my stomach. He took my other hand and pressed a folded paper into it. Then he left, but not before giving my ass a gentle squeeze.

I didn't respond, I just started walking again and made it out to my car. I was still in a daze. My phone rang, and I fumbled it out of my pocket. It was my surfer friend, the one who had started all this, checking up on me. His voice came through from the other end," Heeeeeeeeeey. Did you do it? How'd it go?"

I didn't know what to say. I spoke up, struggling to keep my voice from cracking, "Yeah man, I went. I just left actually..." I looked over at the building with the fading paint and the plain sign.

I hadn't realized I had trailed off without explaining, but his voice brought me back, "... And? Come on, what happened?"

I noticed I was still holding the paper he had pressed into my hand. I unfolded it. It was a flier for the club. "Inner Desires" was stretched across the top in big red and black letters. I steadied my voice and spoke up, "Nothing happened. It was a total shit show. They couldn't handle me. I told you, I'm not gay. They all wanted my cock but they couldn't have it. Just goes to show you what a real man is like." My thumb hovered over the end call button, but I brought the phone back up to my mouth for one last, "Later, Fag", before hanging up on him.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket and looked over the flier again. A note was handwritten across the bottom, flowing script in bright pink ink. Half off, next Tuesday. See you soon, pretty boy. -- Love, Marc. The name was written inside a heart. I folded it back up, slipped it into my back pocket and got into my car. As I sat down, the sensation of almost-pain and almost-pleasure that radiated from my ass brought my thoughts back to the club. I closed my eyes and moaned softly without intending to, shifting slightly to push my ass down against the seat. I could feel the fire deep inside, spent, but still burning. The unbearable craving that had been ignited, the need for more. Tuesday couldn't come soon enough.