Okay, So You Bitchez Asked For It

2.12.2006
Ore : 2:07 PM

My parents had taken my brother to the city of Chico for the day. I had pretended to be sick. I was still in bed when the trickling started. It sounded like someone had opened up a tap in a firehose. I went to the living room window to investigate.

Doug was outside, pissing in the yard.

I was flabbergasted. Here was this man, my neighbor: fat, bearded, hairy, who had just last week told my dad "I need a fuckin blowjob, man", to which my dad had said "you stay the fuck away from my son." Already I had washed this man's Ben Davis slacks in my machine. The inner thigh had pearly splooey dribbled all over it.

Yeah, he was a filthy mess. I thought he was "gross." Just another dipshit lookin' for poontang, and sometimes, like the proverbial blind squirrel sussing out a nut, finding it.

Yet here was the man's cock. Fat and sweet, just flopping there like a fire hose, piss streaming out of it onto the gravel. An organ of fucking beauty if I've ever seen one.

Okay. I'm 15 -- Pinko, Ray, the bearded, fat lumberjackoff you guys know has yet to become reality. I'm just a smooth fuckin' twink. A callow little shit. Doug is 32, a talented mechanic, good with his fingers. It's summer, and he favors shirtlessness. He smells like armpits and Quaker State. He's in good, toned shape, save for his beer-belly. He's bearded, the way you guys have seen me. More important, he knows how to work it. When he's pissed somebody off, or has said something untoward, he flashes a grin, those straight, blindingly white, Germanic-Irish teeth shining sweetly, playfully, through a thick, reddish-brown beard, and everything is okay. It's all just fine.

He's a fuckin' Adonis.

Today I have much greater appreciation for the powers of his youth. Doug knew how to work it.

He continued to piss, and then, strangely, looked towards the screened-in window. As if by sixth sense, he knew I was staring at his fat appendage. He made his way towards the house...

"BANG BANG BANG" he went at the doublewide trailer door. I was petrified. Should I pretend not to be home? I was 15, and already I had a sexual predator, a man I know, his fat dick popped out of his dolphin shorts, pounding at my door. I was almost a pussy about the whole deal. Almost.

I opened the door. "Hey Doug, what's up?"

"Not much." He flashed that winning smile at me. "What about you? You get an eyeful?"

I stood stock-still. I had to play this right. I was scared witless, yet I was horny as all fuckin' get out. Teenage hormones, yeah? Imagine, my heterosexual gentleman readers, if you will, a hot, topless 17 year-old (Lindsay Lohanesque, okay?) pounding at your door, who so clearly wants your searing fat rod slipped into her. That's sort of what I was goin' through.

Only this man wanted to lay the pipe in yours truly. Or at least, in any convenient, tight, warm, wet hole. "Hey Doug," I said, so nervous you could have etched glass with my fingernails. "Come on in."

He gave his trademark white, "evil fucker" grin through that kick-ass beard of his. My asshole was seriously fucking tingling at this point. I knew what I wanted, and I knew what was coming.

I looked him dead in his pretty brown eyes. "Seriously though, you askin'?"

"I ain't askin'. I'm tellin'."

"Well then shit mutherfucker pull down them ugly fuckin' shorts, man, and sit your ass down on the couch." Cheesy, I know, but you have no fuckin' clue how hard and nervous I was at this point.

He exhaled deeply, gave a moue of assent, nodded his head, his thick beard smooshing against his hairy, narrow. muscular chest, and just shoved his shorts down. His dick, already tumescent, bounced against his hairy belly and came to rest pointing exactly at my line of sight. I was struck by how oddly graceful yet clumsy it appeared. I was touched, and in fact, moved..

I got on my knees, and took it in hand.

It was big. The man was half a head shorter than I am, and clearly filled with unwarranted bluster. But his dick was easily eight and a half inches long -- tanned, uncut, and thick as a beer can.

"I appreciate it man. I needed some pussy, but it wasn't forthcoming. Thanks for filling in, dude."

He seriously fucking said that. Just like a porno novel. Meanwhile, I was gripping the base of his dick with forefinger and thumb, staring that huge, fat, piss-stinking slit-eye in the face. I mean, I'd put myself down for it, but privately, I was worried. This shit was huge. How was I not going to gag?

I started small, working the flaring, robust dickhead, massaging it with my tongue and upper lip.

"Oh holy fuck," he let out in guttural tones. This is about the moment when I figured out that girls aren't naturally good at blow-jobs, and in fact need to be trained.

Boys, however, are. Empathy and awareness colored every lick, every stroke. I got adventurous. I pulled it down farther. At one point, the tip of his glans hit the back of my throat; his balls banged my chin. I almost gagged, but I got my shit under control.

He noticed the effort I was putting in. "Goddamn boy, you are good. I really apprec-- OH FUCK YEAH! -- I appreciate it. Thank you."

I kept stroking him with my throat, too scared to speak up, too afraid I'd ruin a 15 year-old faggot's greatest dream if I let loose with my typical, gravelly tones. What he needed right now, I thought, was to lean his head back, close his eyes, and pretend a 15 year-old girl was working his sweet shaft.

He dragged a calloused, greasy, gnarled, conciliatory hand along my jawline.

"Hey man, it's okay, I'm not gonna pop you for suckin' me or nothin'..." His voice was all sweet, all smiles.

"I just wanna check out your hole is all." He runs his thick, horned, index finger down my ass crack.

He giggles a bit. "Hey man, you're kinda tight. Mind if I break you in with some crisco?"

I am of course scared shitless. But I've already experimented, during my masturbatory sessions, with sticking stuff up my ass, and I've already learned to appreciate the power of the prostate gland.

"It's above the stove," I say, fighting to maintain my nonchalance.

He stares me down, mouth open, and then nods. "You know, if you're cool with it, I want to take you in the shower."

"Yeah, okay."

I head for the bathroom and start the hot water. He clearly can't wait. As I'm massaging myself in the stream of hot water, Doug's pointing a wad of vegetable shortening at me, and then poking it at my butt. He sticks his thick middle finger up my ass. It burns, but I take it.

Then he greases up his pole. I watch him, watch him pull back the filthy foreskin and grease up the soft head, then the thick shaft, of his big dick. He sneers senselessly as he does so. Then he takes two steps forward. Meanwhile, I'm "presenting" like I'm one of them chimp bitches in the national fuckin' geographic. He somehow squeezes the fat head of his dick into my asshole.

God it fuckin' burns.

But I ain't sayin shit. He turns me on, and I want him balls-deep, and I ain't gonna let anything get in the way of that.

Goddamn he's fuckin' thick. Goddamn it hurts.

He starts moaning like a fucking pussy. He groans and throws his head back as he penetrates me. His fat belly smashes against the small of my back. The front of his low-hanging balls smack against the back of mine. I start gettin' hard. He, manliness notwithstanding, grips the shaft of my dick, and starts jerking me. Pulls my foreskin back so fast it practically fucking rips.

That's when it hits me. Like a fuckin' freight train: I'm gettin' fucked real good. The man knows how to lay some mutherfuckin' pipe. I get it. I really do.

The big fat spongey head of his hard dick hits my prostate, and keeps punchin' it. Yeah, I'm lettin' him fuck me raw. Why? Well fuck, I don't know. I'm 15 and stupid and listenin' to Blondie and Joe Strummer and I'm a stupid badass and don't give a shit about nothin'. And then comes the definition of beauty: He screams, whines, and whimpers. His dick pulses in my ass, throbs and fucking pulses, until... He lets loose a howl, and rests the side of his sweet, bearded face against my back. He lets loose a thick fucking geyser of lava in my open ass. He sprays his baby-batter all over my gut. God it feels good.

And then he kisses me. Full on, on the mouth. He sticks his tongue down my fuckin' throat. It's sweet. It's kind. He tastes like cigarillos.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the moment I lost my virginity.

God that stupid piece of grease-monkey shit was a good kisser.

You know, I saw him recently, in the Wal-Mart parking lot. He looked at me, gave me that trademark grin, and shook his head, and that trademark beard (now gray, and much longer) shook. Goddamn. He's still hot as fuck.

And I'd still do him. He's still a pretty boy.

posted by teh l4m3 at 2:07 PM | Permalink |

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Comments for Okay, So You Bitchez Asked For It
Nice! You are a sick bastard. What a charming piece of gay erotica. Well written. Your graphic imagery will haunt me for days.

Teh...I'm so very turned on. That was very nice!
  • Posted at 8:10 PM | By Anonymous Anonymous

Whoa. I guess I should check your blog more over the weekends. I missed the entire lead-up to this post.

Clay Caldwell would be proud...

I knew the girls and the gay boys (not to mention some of the sicker straight boys) would love this one...

Fuck yeah, buddie! Gnarly as hell... Clay Aiken would be scared!

No way. That had the wiff of Penthouse Forum to it.

did you finds Ho's diary?

CT: "whiff" has an "h", you stupid biznatch.

fatrobot: yes.

Is it uncomfortably hot in here or is it just me? I only have one word for that story.....FABULOUS!

v v hot

consider co-publishing it on nifty.org

http://nifty.nisusnet.com/nifty/gay/index.html

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