tagGay MaleRadio/Radio/Radio



Note: This is simply the first completed sex scene of a story I'm writing on another site. I edited it to just have the raunchy man on man action to put up here, for no other reason than I'd like to contribute to erotic literature.


Being this close to him is making me want to pull his (and mine) pants off to make this a real party, but I doubt doing that in a moving vehicle is a very appropriate thing to do, considering safety and all that shit about not dying. So that's where we are at the current moment. You know, in his car. Well, more specifically driving on the back roads, but that extra amount of information seems pointless now.

The short car ride to James' apartment is not so surprisingly filled with nothing but the sound of the radio. Oh, that and a good amount of sexual tension on both our parts. It would seem my nervousness and mental instability from before is also completely forgotten once he starts fondling my junk with one hand, the other resting safely on the steering wheel.

I'm happy enough to return the favor though. With his hands fully on the wheel this time, it's my turn to grope him a little; I rub his leg in the way that I know makes me squirm, and then when I get my mouth close to his ear, warm air blows in and I can see, feel him under my palm, getting existed like I want him to. Come to think of it, maybe that was a bad idea; he doesn't seem to want to wait anymore to have me fully.

That's indeed how we find ourselves stopping on the side of a quiet road in the middle of the night.

He takes no time in unbuckling his seatbelt and facing me with the loveliest set of wide bright eyes, filled to the brim with the darkest tint of lust. I must assume that my own are the same, because as soon as mine lock to his, it seems as though an open invitation has been sent out for him to ravish me right then and there. Not that I mind of course; his taste on my lips is one that I rather enjoy.

He grinds his angular hips into mine, making me catch my breath. He wants me, this, here, now, just like I do, but as horny as I am, my need to tease forces me to hover over his luscious lips and lazily whisper into them, my fingers in his hair, almost painfully pulling the strands to tilt his head back to have him under my own touch, to better manipulate and to control.

''In the car, hon? I didn't know you needed it that bad.''

''I've been dying to have you all night babe. The way you dance had me all hot and bothered in the club you know.''

''That's good love, but I'm sure you can do better. Come one, turn me on.''

''How's 'I want to fuck you until you're so raw than you can't walk for days. And when you do manage to get yourself standing, that you still feel me inside you'?''

''Much better, thanks.''

And we're back to sucking each other's face off. As things heat up and it's clear that light touches alone cannot quench our rising thirst for one another, James goes to turn the car off and I'm guessing the stereo along with it, but I won't have any of that. I like the background noise; it's just like the beat in the club.

''Leave it on.''

He does, after I tell him I quite enjoy music, any, during a good fuck. Fiddling with the radio, he finally settles for a random station of pop music. Good, because all I really want is his body back on mine. I don't recognize the song but the gently humming of the engine, or what I assume to be so, feels simply divine beneath my bones. So what if we're wasting gas and energy for a quick moment of divine pleasure?

And then he makes quite an erotic scene of sinking to his knees on the, what I assume to be mostly dirty, car floor, but I doubt he gives a fuck at the moment, because he goes straight for his prize; as he zips me down with his teeth.

Thankfully, I remember quickly enough that he likes to be in control when he gives head and so I try with all my strength not to gag him. But truth be told, with his hot wet mouth on me like this, I don't think I can resist for long before griping a fist full of his luscious dark hair and using him for my own twisted desire, forcing him to take me as deep as his gag reflex with allow and beyond.

He twirls his tongue around the head a bit and then proceeds to dip it in the slit, already dripping with pre cum. My breathing is labored, my head thrown back, and all I can do is moan at the top of my lungs. One goes even a little too high pitch for my own taste, but James seems to like it, because the chuckling from the back his throat sends me to a whole new world of pleasure.

Sadly, he gets off of me with an audible and charming 'pop' before he can finish what he started. Yup, he just wanted me completely hard for what's next, not that I'm complaining.

He comes back up for a little more spit swapping it would seem, and knowing where his mouth was just mere moments ago makes me even hotter. He retreats soon enough, though a thin trail of saliva still lingers between us, a clear reminder of just how badly we both crave the contact of the other.

His thumb grazes my lips teasingly; a gesture that sends sparks of desire down my spine. He wants me to open up, so I do just that. His index darts in, soon to be slicked with my saliva and then middle and ring finger follow one at a time, getting the same treatment.

Content with my finger coating abilities, he slides down to the floor again, with all his best intentions clearly on display, gaze linked to mine. Yeah, there it is, the light tap at my entrance, and I can't help but open up my legs a little more to grant him access, because fuck, this is the first step to what we both really are here for.

He goes straight back to nudging until he gets one in, then another and then the third and I think that that's all he can take before he explodes in his pants, tight as they are, his dick just begging to be release from its denim confinement, I'm sure.

With expert hands, he does. It's lovely you know. Just big enough, just long enough to not be uncomfortable. The right size to make you moan and cum from the friction on the prostate of its penetration alone, a talent I've manage to grasp after some well wasted time of exuberated practice. Well, that's only because I'm very demanding when it comes to finding the right angle.

He's on me again, his lean body pressing me all the way down in the passenger seat, eager for what is about to unfold, but I've got other plans.

I gently push him back down in the driver's seat, which is funny, because I'm actually the one in control here. Somehow, my clouded lustful mind finds a way to push the seat back for more room and a better access to his body. I spit in my hand; his dick warm to the touch and gorged with desire, as I prepare his willing invasion of me.

''I want to ride you.''

He only nods, too turned on to answer it would seem, but like I need his permission anyway.

I lower myself onto his rigid member, one hand on his chest, the other guiding him into me. The burn is wonderful, but what can you expect with only spit as lube. It may be hot as hell, but there's always a little more pain. In addition, our half clothed bodies speak volume about the way we need it: fast and hard.

Now he's fully in, and he's smart enough to let me time to adjust to the intrusion. He feels so good inside me, so warm and pulsing with the arousal of a man yet to be satisfied, and I like the fact that I'm the only one in the position to do so.

I wiggle myself up and down a little to take the sting off, but fuck; I think I'm ready to go now. With both hands on his chest, holding the weight of me because I want to be able to admire the lust in his eyes, and I want him to see the need in mine. I am only slightly surprised as he starts bucking against me and the newly found friction on my prostate makes me thoroughly thankful for this turn of events.

We seem to have developed quite a rhythm. The car is filled with the sounds of us; the smacking of heated skin against skin and the rawness of guttural moans mesh together quite well in such close quarters it would seem.

This is how I like it; cramped and so god damn hot. In this moment, all I see, feel, hear is him. I doubt there's anywhere he looks better than on his back. Only in sex can you feel this close to someone, because love can be faked, but not so much physical desire.

I can help but to drag my short nails all the way across his chess to reach his navel after an especially hard thrust and I am quite pleased with myself, because I can already see that it's going to leave a mark on his strong body. If he didn't know that he was mine before, he will surely get the point when I'm done with him tonight.

From my new position, sitting straighter on top of him than before and looking down, with my hands now caressing his strong abs, the angle of penetration is much deeper. It makes me go wild; riding harder, wanting completion from this act. He's close too, I can tell in the way he tightens the claw like grip he already has on my hips. So maybe I like the pain a little, sue me.

My orgasm takes me a little by surprise though. I didn't even notice when he started pumping my erection. Hands-off is more my thing, but no matter, his hands on me were wonderful all the same. The rhythm picks up again, a tad gentler that before, as to not disturb my temporarily spent form, but not for long, because he releases in me soon after, my convulsing canals having egged him on when my half limp body was completely against his own.

Our second go is much smoother, after a small recovery period filled with gentle caresses, what with his cum as lubrication and all, but that's just fine with me. The slow pace and deeper trusting does not take away from the urgencies of the moment. In fact, the passion is only intensified, as the radiant heat of time well spent lingers in the form of slowly dripping sweat and clammy tangled limbs, and pleasure that cannot be worded, but instead grunted as the sole part of a mismatched whole.

Then the moment of clear oblivion comes again, though none the least less appreciated then the first. Muscles constrict, a deep jolt from within, begging for release, as breath becomes heavy, panting in anticipation, ready to take the fall. And all the effort is finally paid off, not that the road wasn't paved with delight as well: tingling and white hot fire behind closed eyelids.

I kiss him a final time before clumsily rolling off and back to my seat. We take a moment to compose ourselves and clean crevices in any way possible before taking back to the road. The literal bumps along the way remind me of what we've just done and I smile in spite of the pain. My grin widens when James turns to me and tells me that the mess of cum staining his beloved car now was totally worth it. We will see if he still feels that way tomorrow, when he's scrubbing the black leather seats to take off the specks of crusted white pigments.

We stumble into his apartment, giggling and still happy from the lingering contact high of sex, because what could ever be more of a feel good drug than sexual gratification? Oh dear, in the heat of the moment, that last part may have come out as a question, but trust me, getting fucked sideways always takes the edge off.


A.N: Thanks for reading.

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