What Straight Men Want Pt. 04

What does one do when moving to a new city with a flourishing gay scene and more men that openly flirt with you in public and online? Behave, is what I did. I wanted to meet new people, make friends, but not combine them with sex. So every man that so much as openly admitted to only liking other men, was immediately friendzoned. I don't know why or what was wrong with me but I only wanted to be fucked by straight men. In hindsight it's a fairly logical consequence of a lifetime of rejection for one's sexuality leading to the desire to be acknowledged for one's uniqueness which corresponds with being sexually aroused by the thought of being the only boy a man has ever tasted. But I didn't know all that back then.

All I knew was that nothing turned me on like the look of a man with a wife or a girlfriend who couldn't resist looking at my ass. The idea that a straight man who normally drowned in pussy and would feel disgust at the thought of fucking another dude adored my male body and my tight asshole like a splash of water on a hot summer's day, sent me over the edge. And luckily for me, there were plenty of them. They could be bisexual of course and surely many who identified as straight had felt the inside of a boy's behind more than once, but for my fantasy, I was their first and only exception to a life of loving women and being proud, brutish heterosexual men furthering the species. I was their curiosity, their break from society and the ideals of manhood. Or better yet, a need to affirm their manhood by taking it from another man. I was the one thing they couldn't resist no matter how ashamed or wrong it might make them feel. They fucked me not out of love or biological urge or societal constraints, but because they wanted to stroke their cock with a tight fit and used me to do it. It was I was born for.

I worked in a restaurant where I was very proud of my sexuality. I could openly joke about bottoming and liking dick with my very heterosexual colleagues, often rugged cooks who laughed at my jokes but were still very much disgusted by the idea of men having sex. But it weren't my colleagues that made me love my job so much.

The restaurant was fancy. Like marble floors and chandeliers on the ceiling fancy. And it was a hot spot of rich thirty-something men who would come by on their business diners or family outings to show off their wealth. It was my hobby to make them all glance at me. Most didn't bite, confirming my theory that at least not all straight men secretly desired a boy's bubbly ass. But a surprising amount of them did. I caught them looking when I leaned over the table to pour the wine or place the silverware. Their surly hands graced the side of my buttocks and sometimes even pinched them. It was the highlight of my day.

And then I saw him. He was seated with colleagues. All handsome men in suits whose voices were racing to be the loudest in the room. He drank beer like the rest of them, hung back casually in his chair, legs spread wide and shoulders broad with a sly grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye. When he opened his phone I saw an idealistic picture of a smiling wife and son next to him in shorts on a boat. He wasn't from here, surely on a trip far away from any chance of relief. And then we locked eyes and my heart stopped.

He had a sullen face with a big nose, nothing that would get him on the cover of a magazine. He was bald and not too tall. But his jaw was sharp like a blade, even though it was covered by a thick black beard. His body was broad and muscular, his expensive suit fit to the inch, except at his thighs, which were so thick I swore they would burst free soon, and his crotch, where a large bulge strained against the fabric. His brown brooding eyes, weary of the laughter and empty talk around them, stared right into my soul. I knew I wanted him. Every fiber in my body urged me to sit on his lap, feel the heat of that bump against my ass crack. But I also knew he didn't want me.

When I cleaned the table after the main course, bending over like a dirty little slut for the umpteenth time that evening, it was the loud, obviously drunk guy next to him that slid his hands in between my legs and felt me up to my crotch. My dick twitched, for sure. He was more traditionally handsome, tall, blonde, blue eyes and a scruffy beard. I liked his cocky attitude but it wasn't him that I wanted.

I had prepared to be fucked tonight. It had been months since I had any, not that I was deliberately starving myself, I just had been busy. But it was to the point that I couldn't think of anything else but be fucked, no matter how many times I jerked off. I had planned to go to the sauna tonight and being anonymously ragged by whichever gay would offer, but now I had seen him, nothing else would suffice.

"Would you like more wine," I said to him, as we once again locked eyes longer than men normally would allow.

"Bring the sommelier," he answered politely, a twinkle in his eyes again. But he carried on the conversation with his companions seemingly indifferent to who was waiting his table. Disappointed I tried to squeeze from between the two chairs when I felt the other guy brazenly grab my cock. I didn't mind per se, it just startled me and thus I twitched. I knocked my upper thigh against the edge of wooden table behind me and I wheezed in pain.

"Are you alright?" the black bearded man asked softly as he jumped up from his chair and grabbed my hand with both of his to balance me. They were huge despite his average size and they wrapped my hand like a warm blanket. The other guy quickly pretended to not know what caused the fuzz.

"I'm alright, I'm so sorry for the disturbance, sir," I said, afraid of what the maître might say if he saw me causing a scene.

"Not at all," the man smiled at me. I hurried away in embarrassment under the watchful eyes of everyone at the table. But as the night carried on I couldn't help but wonder who would grab a waiter's hands like that. The answer wasn't necessarily 'someone who wants to bone you' but still. It felt odd in the best way.

The evening came to a close and I was bringing petit fours when I saw him get up and go to the bathroom. I don't know what came over me but I put the plates down on the table and followed him.

The bathrooms were near the entrance, where no one was at this hour. They were small and secluded, so I could easily follow him without anyone noticing. My heart was beating in my throat. What was I doing? Did I want to lose my job? And still, like men follow their dick, I followed the gaping emptiness in my behind that begged to be filled. I entered the men's bathroom a few minutes after he did and closed the door behind me.

There he was, taking a piss at the urinal. He was doing it so over the top manly. Flat hand on the wall, legs spread apart, belt open and one hand on his crotch. If I wasn't so turned on my his masculinity I would've surely laughed. Without looking who entered, he flushed and closed his pants. When he turned around he stopped.

I didn't know what to say, so I smiled and out of a reflex started checking if the towels needed refilling. He smiled back and washed his hands. I was an idiot. Being concerned that I didn't fall on my face is not the same as flirting. And not every straight guy wants to rail you in the bathroom. Lessons learned. Except he didn't stop washing his hands. As he stroked his fingers and palms with care he looked at me and I breathlessly looked back. When he finally turned off the faucet he reached curiously close past my body to the towels.

"Ricky wagered he could fuck you before the night was over," the man said. And my heart sank to the floor.

"Ricky is a slut. Bangs hookers and soccer moms and loves boys even more. Says they let him do what he wants," he continued as he casually threw the towel in the bin.

"Can't say I ever had the urge to try," he continued as he stepped towards the door and thus towards me. The space between us shrunk. I could smell the beer on him. The Hugo Boss cologne. But most of all I felt the tension of having a straight up zaddy's broad chest breathing so close to me in the bathroom at my job.

"Would you fuck him?" The man asked casually, as if making conversation. He smiled a bit and his eyes twinkled again and oh my god I was shaking.

"No," I said, trying to maintain some of my dignity despite it basically being gone after I decided to follow a man to the bathroom.

The man smiled again and graced my face with the backside of one finger. I shivered at the touch of his skin on mine. Of his longing eyes scanning my body.

"No," he said. "I didn't think so."

And with that he unbuckled his belt again. It happened so swift but all the tension in my body made me react faster than a hare on the run. I fell to my knees and in absolute marvel watched as he finally let the thick, half hard snake free from its prison. It was so big and meaty and with lots of skin that it genuinely looked like a dish. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and gobbled it up in one breath.

As soon as I slobbered over his pole, pushing his skin back and twirled on his head, he erected to full mast. It was the hottest penis I had ever seen and I wanted it in my mouth even though my jaws trembled under the strain. Hearing him moan was the reward I craved and the incentive to try and deep throat. I didn't make it very far. The huge head filled my mouth and thus I just rotated on it as much as I could.

The man didn't seem to mind. He grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me back on my feet. He twisted me around, pushed me over the sink and tore my trousers off before he pushed himself against me.

"I don't cheat, you hear me," he sighed in my ear as his rock-hard dick was pressing so deep in my ass my boxers might tear.

"Then don't tell anyone," I breathed in complete surrender. I didn't care what he wanted to think of himself I just wanted to be totally used by him.

"You have a girl's ass," he said as he roughly pulled my boxers down and let his hands slide over my smooth shaven cheeks. I arched them further backwards, signaling he could fuck this girl if he wanted to.

"Aaah, is that what you do. You come on to faithful married men and you wiggle your ass?" he said as he forced his dry finger in my hole. It hurt so much but the dominance with which he did it, the sheer straight stupidity of how an asshole worked, drove me mad. He started moving around, feeling the inside of my rectum, the ridges of the ring and the smooth walls of the tunnel, exploring everything with the tip of his finger.

I looked in the mirror, my face in total agony as my ass was being poked by a large, manly hand. I saw his face, which looked angry in his complete enjoyment and horniness of using a human body as if it were a blow-up doll. He spit a huge blob in my crack.

"You seduce them, prey on their weaknesses. Because you're a fucking slut who just lets everybody fuck her cunt?" And when he angrily said the last word he jammed the head of dick against my asshole. The sheer force had pushed his skin back and my ring open. The tip was in.

"Yes, I moaned out," in sheer horny desperation for his cock.

"Fuck, it's been so long," he grunted as he no longer paid any attention to me, his eyes closed and head leaned back.

I tried to be ready for him but I wasn't. The sweet, mesmerizing, well dressed men had turned into an angry beast and his giant torpedo wasn't stopping as it rammed further inside of me. My hole was stretching as far as it could and the head wasn't even in. I accepted my faith as I let my upper body fall into the sink. But zaddy didn't like that. He grabbed me by my throat and pulled me up as he continued pushing his sausage deeper and deeper in between my buns. I couldn't help but squeeze my hole, but it was stuck on his mushroom head.

Something snapped in my brain. I think it was my pain tolerance. Because I felt my hole being ripped open. But I couldn't scream I was so numbed. The whole way he was handling me was so arousing I enjoyed every second of the torture. He wasn't even nearly in - at least I didn't feel his pelvis yet - as he started fucking me, moving his dick against my ring without ever leaving my canal completely. My asscheeks were basically jerking him off. As if I was working in survival mode I held my hand under the soap dispenser until it the liquid dripped between my fingers. I took the giant blob of white goo and put it in between our bodies. His penis felt so thick, his skin so raw and the skin around my ass completely strained. I soaped it all in and with that he slid completely in. I was in heaven.

"Yeah you know what to do with a dick like that huh disgusting little slut. I bet you do this all the time. I bet you let yourself be bent over by guests three times a night," he grunted in my ear. I couldn't do anything anymore but moan.

"Do they all take you raw like this? Do they all cum in you like the filthy slut that you are? I bet they do. I bet you also never had a cock this big," he continued as he increased his pace. I couldn't help but moan loader as my hole was completely being destroyed.

"God this feels good. God that asshole Ricky was right. Fuck you're tighter than pussy," he started moaning between every word. What he said turned me on so much my hole relaxed. His hips were pressing against my bubble but. I was taking him completely now. His entire eight inch thick ass dick was pounding me tip to balls. His hard long strokes slowed down until he was simply grinding against me, our bodies in sync as he rearranged my insides. My head laid on his shoulders as my back arched and he whispered foul things in my ear.

But then I heard the distinct sound of the restaurant door.

"Someone's... unf... Coming... uhh" I moaned. The man stopped moving and looked at me in shock in the mirror. I was still half intoxicated and couldn't help but continuing to fuck myself on his pole. My anal ring had regained some senses and the tingling caused by sliding over the broad base of his cock was too addicting to stop.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked exhausted, spent. What if I got caught like this. A white man's sex slave bouncing on dick as the only purpose in life. I wasn't a man. I was a hole. I loved it.

He didn't hesitate for a second and grabbed my entire body, lifted it from the ground and walked backwards into the only stall. Mind you, this was a fancy bathroom so the stall was completely closed off. The second I closed the door behind us we heard the men's bathroom door open. Close call.

For a second I didn't know what to do. Here I sat, impaled on a strange man while another strange man was taking a piss. The secrecy of what men do in bathrooms urged me to continue bouncing on the man's dick. But he pushed me off and a shame came over me. I had failed him and expected the moment to be over. But when I turned around, his eyes pierced my soul again and his dick was still rock hard. I smiled. He smiled. With both of his hands he grabbed my asscheeks, pulled down my pants just far enough not to expose my dick but enough to grant access to my hole again and pulled me on his lap.

"My wife always says I'm too big for her to enjoy. She doesn't appreciate what I give her the way you do," he whispered in my ear with desperation and total lust.

I spread my cheeks as far as I could and I sank my bruised, wide open canal over his giant shaft. Again it was so thick I couldn't make a sound. But I didn't need to. He buried his face in my chest, as if I was a woman with breasts and I started bucking my hips, making his meat rotate in my bowels.

He embraced me in his big arms and I embraced him in mine. I was a twirling body of round shapes as he was a stern rectangle. Passion versus rigidness. Bottom versus top. Slut versus decency. We were in perfect sync as our male bodies enjoyed each other the way only a woman and a man should. We held on to each other so tightly as I rode him hard. We heard the urinoir flush and the faucet turn on for a second. I gave myself a mission. I couldn't keep riding this impossible large cock for much longer without possibly losing my ability to walk and the thought that I was fucking a stranger while another stranger was just outside drove me to the edge. While his fat monster swirled in my rectum and massaged my prostate, I increased the pace. His eyes widened and suddenly he grabbed my waist with both his hands. He held me.

Rope after rope of thick cum shot up my colon as I heard the door of the bathroom close. The man's head buried against my shirt, his body twitching as he finally let out a grunt. I started shooting too without ever touching my dick. The fountain didn't stop and he kept shooting and shooting until it leaked out of my ass. I felt my boxer being soaked in my own cum. I wanted to get up but his grip held me in place.

Finally he caught his breath and he let me go. What felt like a bucket of cum dripped out of my ass. Everything was covered. His pants, my pants. I'm sure it reached inside my stomach. We both laughed at the mess and we cleaned it up at the sink. When the most obvious stains were gone, I touched the door handle, ready to leave this adventure behind. He put his hand on it, slamming it shut. Confused and slightly scared he wanted more with that thick cock of his, I turned around. He was back to his charming self again.

"It's not really cheating if it's not with an actual girl right?" He asked, almost shy. I laughed.

"This never happened," I said, caressing his chest and conscious now that we both got what he wanted. He grinned back, leaned forward and kissed me. The kiss was soft and sweet and I leaned into it, as his hand grabbed my waist and pulled me closer. Beauty and the Beast for the last time. We made out like that for a few seconds.

"Tell Ricky I was always yours," I whispered, before I rearranged my clothes, opened the door and stepped out. I had trouble walking, everything was sore. I thought I had satisfied my need for cock for the rest of the month, perhaps even forever. Little did I know the night had far more to offer.