The L from Oak Park

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KeithD
KeithD
1,298 Followers

"I'm thinkin' you want it big." He was staring at Ken. Ken was trembling but didn't answer. "Your friend here have it as big?" He looked over at Thane, who didn't answer him. "I didn't think so."

They held in pattern for several minutes, Stan holding his cock in his hand and giving Ken a knowing smile, until the train was slowing again. They were pulling into the Ashland station. They had entered a blighted band around the city between the flashy, high-rise downtown area on the lakefront and the start of the wealthy suburbs, out where they had left Oak Park.

Stan stuffed his cock back into his jeans, stood up, and stretched. The train was still moving. He was agile on the balls of his feet despite his muscular physique. He had no trouble maintaining his balance and he was the model of self-confidence.

"This is my stop, Blondie. You gonna get off the train with me and get off on my cock? You gonna go slumming with me? You go with me, you'll know you been fucked." Both Ken and Thane were blonds, but it was quite evident Stan wasn't addressing Thane.

* * * *

Ken was being grabbed under his pits and roughly turned on the sagging mattress of the bed in the fleabag by-the-hour gay hotel on Ashland. He had just a few seconds to look out of the nearby window, past the blinking neon hotel sign, and into street to see that twilight had fallen.

His cheeks stung from being slapped around; his throat was sore from being rhythmically throttled to heighten the effect of the sex. His legs ached from the positions they'd had to maintain while he was being fucked. His spirits were dancing on the clouds.

Talk about fast reloading, Erick had nothing over Stan in that department. Stan had been fucking him for hours, it seemed. The muscular roofer had reamed him seriously open. Stan had started with a missionary, then a doggie, and then, like Erick, he'd wanted Ken to cowboy him. But unlike Erick, Stan was eight thick inches of power and rough nastiness.

They'd been in the hotel room for two hours, and Ken was wrung out like a dishrag. He was moaning, but he was still purring.

His head was bent back over the end of the bed. His view of the hotel window was blotted out by the sight of an eight-inch, thick cock. Again. He opened his mouth, unhinging his jaw so that he could take the cock in his throat. This wasn't the first . . . or the second . . . time Stan had pushed his hard eight inches inside Ken's throat. The man was perpetually hard; there seemed to be no recovery time at all. Stan bent his muscular, dark and hairy body over Ken's lithe, smooth torso, his fists trapping Ken's wrists, and took Ken's cock in his mouth. They seemed to sixty-nine for an eternity. Ken had never sixty-nined before. But he'd done it three times in the last two-and-a-half hours now and had been fucked seven ways from Sunday between blow jobs.

Stan reversed himself on Ken, Ken's head still draped over the end of the bed. His ankles were being lifted and hooked on Stan's shoulders. Stan had one arm encasing Ken's calves and the hand of the other one pulling on Ken's cock, as he thrust his cock inside Ken's ass again and began to piston him vigorously.

"Open up. Give it to me, Blondie!" Stan commanded.

"I've been giving it to you all afternoon," Ken responded with a deep groan.

"And you been lovin' it. Smarty pants never had it so good."

Ken couldn't quibble with that.

"Fuckin' give it to me. Open more. I ain't near finished with you yet. Take it, take it, take it. You was beggin' for it with your eyes and tease. You was beggin' for it the first time I put it in you."

"Shit! Fuck!" Ken cried out, but he willed himself to open totally to the huge-cocked man, and the eight hard inches sank deeper inside him. The first couple of fucks, Ken had tried to take it silently, knowing the walls were thin as paper in this fleabag. But this was a by-the-hour gay dive. He was hearing sex in stereo from all sides. He finally just let it loose and gave Stan the cries and encouragement that gave him some release and that made the muscle man plow harder.

Stan lifted his torso higher, pulling Ken's buttocks off the surface of the bed and giving the young bottom a good view of the thick base of his cock pulling out and slamming down into Ken's hole. The backs of Ken's legs were being rubbed against Stan's silky chest hair. Ken opened further, totally, collapsed, and moaned the pleasure of the big cock moving inside him, its bulb finding and exploring every nook and cranny of Ken's channel. With a whimper, Ken shoot another load. He had lost count. He had never come this much. His balls ached.

The virile construction worker just kept on pumping.

God, how the lower classes could fuck, Ken mused as he moaned and groaned at another barebacked seeding—Stan having told him he couldn't afford rubbers and then had laughed.

"You'll take me raw, won't you? I just been checked, and you look like you've never tried it raw, so should be OK. You look like you're dying to have it raw. I'm dyin' to have you raw."

Then, without asking permission, Stan fucked him raw. And then again. And again.

Stan had already had the bulb of it inside Ken when he first brought up rubbers, so there wasn't much Ken could say. At that moment he was dying to have it inside him. Stan was right—he'd begged Stan to put his cock inside him. He'd had no idea he'd like it this rough. Nothing fancy or fastidious about a Chicago slums construction worker. He wanted it and he took it. And even while crying like a baby Ken loved having it taken from him by a big, crude bruiser. And, yes, he loved it raw. He loved Stan firing off inside him and then, subsequently sliding around in the cum when he gave it to Ken again.

He could be a slut for a hung construction worker. He was a slut for Stan. Somehow Stan had known he would be.

Well, Thane had been right, Ken thought. He definitely could get a short story out of his trip on the L to Oak Park.

KeithD
KeithD
1,298 Followers
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SugarShark13SugarShark13over 2 years ago

Was surprised, thought for sure Ken was going to go with Thane. The roofer sure knows how to fuck. Hot story

Jerome_PlamondonJerome_Plamondonalmost 3 years ago

“Streetcar Named Desire”

Stan takes what he wants.

GybbsGybbsover 3 years ago
Oak Park native here

I've always had a "thing" for KeithD's writing ... I'm honored that he has treated my hometown this way - even if it is "only" an "incidental" to the real theme :-)

AppreciativeReaderAppreciativeReaderover 3 years ago
WAY BACK...

In my twenties before I attended university I was very much like Stan. Without a refractory period and of course the stamina to go again and again until my partner would plead that he or her had had enough. The downside to even still at sixty something having that sort of desire and stamina is that I don’t have any long term relationships with someone who can take a marathon fuck session like that.

DevonCowboyDevonCowboyover 3 years ago
The roofer or scaffold rigger every time

Well not quite every time. But rough trade is nearly always highly satisfying. Although privately educated, I work the Land and plenty of times have been hit on by those seeking a bit of rough. It would be rude to disappoint. And a little surprisingly when I'm wearing black tie to a posh function, being a touch rough around the edges draws them like moths to a flame!!

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