Date: Mon, 21 Feb 2011 12:49:56 -0500 (EST)
From: jack543216@aol.com
Subject: Willing

This story is fiction.  If it's illegal to read this where you are, STOP
NOW.  If stories of any kind sex between adults offends you, STOP NOW.
You've been warned.

Copyright on this story is held by the author in accordance with all
relevant law.  Requests for reprints or linkage must be submitted to the
author for approval.


WILLING

by

Jack Smith


We'd met at Starbucks, he was on line behind me, and he started chatting
about lattes (we both loved them), the city (he had just moved here), the
weather (would the cold wind ever stop?).  He was gorgeous, dark hair, blue
eyes, taller than me, maybe forty, well built, wearing a suit and tie.  I
got a little hard just looking at him.

My laptop was in my knapsack, I had a paper to finish for my poli-sci
class.  But he followed me to an empty table and we started talking.  His
name was Marcus ("Call me Marc"), and it was great - no awkwardness (I'm
usually tongue-tied with a good looking guy).  He knew a lot about a lot of
things - in fact, he gave me a pointer for my paper that helped tie my
argument together.  When he got up to go, he put my cell number into his
blackberry, and five minutes later he texted me to say how glad he was to
meet me, and hoped he'd see me again.  When I read that I was a lot hard.
But I had to get to class.

Next day Marc texted me again, suggesting we meet at Starbucks, then go out
to dinner.  I started to reply that I didn't think I'd be able to (even
though my fingers were trembling with lust - I'd jerked off twice last
night fantasizing about him).  College student+successful
businessman+dinner = I couldn't afford it.  "My treat" texted through
before I finished my message.  I had a wide smile on my face and another
text from him said "Casual dress.  Don't worry."  Man, I could really like
this guy.  Hell, I already did.

He was waiting at Starbucks when I got there, and he looked even better
than yesterday.  His dark hair was slicked back, but it didn't look goofy
or affected, just completely natural.  Everything he did and said had a
naturalness to it, a sureness that I could only envy.  I was ok looking,
but always seemed to be a little rumpled.  And disorganized.  And late.
Which I was.  But when I started to apologize he smiled, reached his hand
out and brushed a shock of hair out of my eye.  Wow.

Dinner was terrific.  We walked a few blocks to a place I didn't know,
casual (so I was dressed ok) but upscale (which I never could have
afforded).  He made menu suggestions which I followed, and he sure knew his
stuff.  Again, the conversation flowed so easily - I don't know how, it
just did.  After dessert he paid the check, we put on our coats and went
outside.  I was cold, and I had an early class in the morning, but he
hesitated so I waited.

"I hope you don't hate me for this," he said - oh shit, what's he gonna
dump on me?  Is he married?  An alcoholic?

"After a great dinner with a great guy - (I blushed) what I really like is
(he reached into his pocket) a cigarette - I don't smoke much - (he was
actually embarrassed about it!) - but I know some guys are turned off by
it.  I hope you don't mind -"

If he looked sexy before, he looked even better with a cigarette, and the
pleading look in his eye.  "Go ahead," I said, and smiled a little.  His
look of relief made him look so human I melted.  He lit up, inhaled the
smoke, and blew it out with a sigh.  "Thanks Nicky, you're a prince."  I
blinked a little.  I go by Nick, and he'd been calling me Nick, but in the
next moment I smiled.  Nicky sounded good from him.  I liked it.

He smoked the cigarette only about halfway down, and put it out.  "Thank
you," he said, looking me in the eye like I'd done him a tremendous favor.
He kept looking at me, put his hands on each side of my head, and kissed
me.  I haven't been kissed a lot, but I knew this was special - a soft
kiss, his lips against mine, warm and giving, that I felt from the top of
my head to my toes.  And my dick.  Before he drew away, the tip of his
tongue quickly licked my lips.  I gasped at how wonderful it felt.

"Next time I'll cook you dinner," he said quietly.  "Thursday?"

I nodded, my head still in his hands.  He leaned forward, kissed the tip of
my nose, and smiled.  I stood watching him as he walked away.

The next two days I checked my phone obsessively.  He would send me a text,
but not a complete one.  Then a few hours later he would continue the
message, and break off again.  Over the two days I got five texts, until I
had the complete info - his address, and when to be there.

When the time came, I cleaned up as best I could, and managed to be only
five minutes late.  His place was in the part of town with old warehouses
that were being developed as luxury lofts.  When he buzzed me in to the
lobby I was very aware of how unlike it was from my own situation of three
roommates, too much stuff in too little space, heat, hot water that would
go off any time.  This was a different world.

He had a large loft, not a lot of furniture, it looked like a magazine
spread.  But there were things that made it real, not cold.  A couple of
books lying around, some art that looked natural, not chosen for him by a
designer.  A place I could only dream about.  I left my knapsack near the
door, hung up my coat, and followed him into the kitchen area.  He turned,
and surprised me by giving me a big, warm hug, then kissing me deeply.  I
was melting again, but he drew away.  "Dinner first," he said, "dessert
later."

He'd made some fish something, with lots of other stuff.  It was - yeah, it
was great, even if I didn't know what some of it was.  Again, it was
comfortable, and great.  I was feeling special.  And horny.  He was too, I
could see it in the way he was looking at me as we finished.

"Stand up, Nicky" he said as he stood up.  He came over to me and stood
close.  "I've got to have you," he murmured in my ear as he hugged me.  I
could feel his hard dick against mine.  I was anxious because most of my
experience was jerking off - a couple of times I gave some guys a blowjob
in the library john.  This was different.  This was a man, and we were
going to make love.

As he walked over to the area of the loft where his bed was, he started
taking off his clothes.  His sweater came off, then his shirt.  He kicked
off his shoes, opened his pants, and let them fall.  He was wearing a jock
strap, and he looked like a sex god.  He stopped to remove his socks, then
looked at me in just the jock.  If I didn't love him before I did now - he
was stunning.  Not a lot of hair on his chest, but even better muscles than
it looked like when he was dressed.  Hairy legs, good feet, great ass, and
nice bulge.  I fumbled with my shirt, pants, sneakers and socks, and when
they were off I stood there in my boxers.  I'm scrawny, but didn't feel bad
about it for once.

He invited me into his bed, which had the softest sheets I'd ever felt.  He
laid me on my back and kissed me all over.  Really, all over - it took a
long time, and I was so hard my dick was leaking.  I was still wearing my
boxers, and he kissed my dick through them.  "Mmmm, sweet boy juice" he
said as he licked up some of my cum that had leaked through.  Then he stood
up at the foot of the bed, held the bottom of my boxers in his fingers and
pulled them down slowly.  My hard dick slapped my belly, and I lifted my
legs as he removed the last of my clothes.  I was naked on his bed, and he
looked me over and smiled.

He put his hands on the waist of the jock (it was black, I had no idea how
sexy that could be) and lowered it slowly.  He was nearly hard, and had a
nice cock and a full bush of hair.  That was really sexy too.  He lifted
one leg to remove his foot from the strap, then the other.  He was naked in
front of me, and his smile was glowing.  "Turn over," he said, "I want to
see the rest of you."

I rolled over, and I heard him give a low whistle.  "Wow," he said, "you
are one sexy boy - even better than I thought you'd be."

'Boy'?  Well, I guess I was, especially compared to him. He was a man, all
man, and he was hard for me.  I thought again about him calling me 'boy',
and my dick twitched a little underneath me.  Yeah, I'll be his boy, his
lover, his life.

Marc reached down, and separated my legs.  He got onto the bed on his knees
between them, put his hands on the bed, and slowly lowered himself until he
was lying on me.  The feel of his weight on me a little at a time was the
sexiest thing I'd ever felt.  When he was on me, he lifted my arms so they
were above my head, with his arms over them.  I could feel his chest hair
and his nipples on my back, his belly on my lower back, and his cock lying
against the crack of my ass.  His hairy balls hung down between my cheeks,
and his legs were between my spread legs.  He gently kissed my neck, my
ear, my nose, my eye.  He moved slightly so that his cock stroked my ass
crack.  My dick was flat between my belly and the bed, and harder than I'd
ever been.

He reached over to the table next to the bed and opened the drawer.  He
reached in and took out a condom and some lube.  I stiffened a little and
said "I . . . I . . . never . . . ."  He turned his head back to me and
gently whispered in my ear "Shhh . . . I won't do anything to hurt you or
anything you don't want.  Just say my full name if you're uncomfortable and
I'll stop.  That will be our 'safe' word."

I breathed out in relief, and yes, love.  I twisted my head so that he
could kiss me, and he did, fully and hungrily.  I could feel him moving his
rock hard cock against my crack, and even felt a little cum dribble onto my
skin.  This man was turned on by me, I felt complete.

Marc lifted his hips and all of a sudden I felt bereft.  I didn't know I
would miss that contact, and I lifted my ass so that I could feel his
manhood against me again.  He gave a low chuckle, and let his cock tickle
my ass again.  My ass was still raised, begging for the contact.  He drew
back further, so that his cockhead was against my balls, then he pressed so
that his cock was between my spread legs.  My balls were pushed out of the
way and his cock stroked the bottom of my own hard dick, leaving streaks of
his cum.

He slowly drew back, and traced his cock against my crack again.  His legs
spread mine out further, and he let his cockhead rest against my pucker.  I
didn't realize I had whimpered until he whispered in my ear again,
reassuring me, comforting me.  His cockhead felt hard and spongy at the
same time as he teased my hole.  He gave a low chuckle again as I pressed
back against him.  I wasn't even aware I was doing it until he pressed a
little harder, and I felt his hand move to my hard dick and grab it
tightly.

"You're ready now," he murmured, as if to himself.  He grabbed my dick
extra tight, and pushed his cock into me.  I screamed louder than I ever
had in my life, the pain was indescribable.  I couldn't breathe, I couldn't
think - wait, no, please, no - what was my safe word?  Please no, please
no, no - "MARCUS" I screamed.

"Yeah, that's right.  You scream out my name boy, that's what I like to
hear when I fuck."  His voice was unlike it had ever been and in addition
to the pain I was now terrified.  His cock had popped though my hole and
was raking me raw inside to the worst pain I had ever felt.  I screamed out
again "MARCUS" - and I was crying and gasping for breath.  I was twitching
my body to try and throw him off me, but I was in a panic, he had me pinned
down.

"That's enough out of you," he said, and somehow he grabbed his dirty jock
and stuffed it in my mouth.  He lowered his arms so that they were on my
hips, but he was so strong I still could not throw him off.  And then he
started to fuck.

My mind was in a different place.  I knew I was being fucked rough and
hard, and the pain was awful.  I felt something bounce on my belly, and in
shock I knew it was my hard dick smacking me each time Marcus pounded me.
I was screaming my throat raw into the jock.  How had I gotten here?  What
was happening?  Why couldn't I get him off me?  Why wasn't he stopping?
Why was my dick so hard?

My forehead was pressed against the pillow.  My arms were tired from
struggling.  I could feel Marcus's bush rubbing my ass skin raw each time
he forced his cock into me.  I could feel his hairy balls slapping me.
They were full of cum, and he was getting off on this.  From somewhere in
my head I thought well at least he's wearing a condom.  I turned my head to
relieve the pressure and saw the top of the bedside table - the condom was
still there.  He was raw inside me.  The rage built up inside me and I was
able to push my torso off the bed.

Marcus didn't stop fucking.  "Yeah!" he shouted.  Somehow the angle had
allowed him to force his cock into me even further than before, and he
fucked even harder.  He grabbed my balls with one hand, and my cock with
the other and he squeezed hard.  I was stunned, and couldn't fight.  All I
felt was his cock in my ass, my dick and balls squeezed tight, and his
teeth on my neck.

He bit down sharp and hard onto my neck as I felt his cock expand inside
me, and he blasted his boiling hot cum into me.  At the same time he
released his grip from my balls, and stroked my cockhead.  He was jolting
me up as his cock unloaded inside me, and my cock exploded, spraying my cum
all over.  I opened my mouth so wide to scream that the jock fell out.  I
immediately felt his hand over my mouth as he yelled "YEAH BOY, SQUEEZE MY
COCK!" and I realized that my cum spasms put pressure on his pole inside
me.  I started crying and fell down on the bed, into the pool of my cum.
Marcus collapsed on top of me, his cock still blasting hot cum into me.  At
long last that stopped, and he breathed hard into my ear as I cried.

Finally, his cock softened, and I felt like I was shitting it out.  I could
also feel his cum leak out of me.  He reached under, caught some in his
hand, and put it to my face.  "Eat it, boy" he said in a low voice that had
a threat in it.  I licked it off his palm and he put his hand over my mouth
again.

"Swallow it, boy."  No, no, no, I thought, and felt his fingers pinch my
nose.  "You won't breath until you swallow, faggot."  I swallowed, almost
gratefully.  I felt him get out of bed and walk away.

"Cleaning boy can get all this mess tomorrow," he mumbled to himself
looking at the kitchen and dining room.  He went to the bathroom and I
heard the water running.  He came out and threw a wet washcloth on me.
"Clean up," he said, no warmth in his voice at all.  I made half-hearted
swipes with the cloth, cleaning off cum, and oh no, some blood.

"I'm going into the shower now, I'll be out in five minutes.  You will be
ready to leave when I get out."  That cold voice frightened me.  I started
to get dressed.

I saw his pants on the floor, and took his wallet out of the pocket.  Fuck
him, I thought, I'll get him.  I opened the wallet and saw that it was
empty except for one piece of folded paper.  Written on it were three
words: Nice try faggot.  I dropped the paper and wallet on the floor.

Marcus came out of the bathroom naked and wet.  He was still a
stunning-looking man, and even after what happened I felt an undeniable
attraction.  I reached down to adjust my hardening dick.  He saw me do it,
then looked and saw his wallet and the paper on the floor.  He didn't hide
his smirk.

"Door's that way," he said as he nodded to it.  I opened the door and was
almost through it when I heard him say "Boy, you never had a man piss in
your mouth, did you."  I froze, completely unsure what to do.  Leave!  Now!
I was screaming inside my head.

I turned, and looked at him.  He pointed to the floor in front of him.  I
walked over slowly, and got down on my knees still wearing my coat and my
knapsack over my shoulder.

He put his hands on his hips.  He wasn't going to help me at all.  I leaned
forward and put his cockhead into my mouth.  He let out a sigh and let the
piss flow.  It was bitter and awful.  "If any hits the floor, I'll smash
your teeth in," he said in a low voice as I struggled to swallow it all.
When it stopped, he looked down at me.  "I didn't even have to tie you up,"
he said, his voice dripping with contempt.  I looked up at him.

"Tomorrow.  Same time.  No dinner though," he laughed as he said the last
part.  I got up and started to go.  He didn't stop me this time, and I left
with a hurt feeling in my stomach.  I don't care, I thought.  I'm not going
to go back there.  I'm not.  I don't care.  But what about . . . no.  I
have self respect.  I know what I need to do.

Yes, I thought, I know what I need, and what I will do.  And where I will
be tomorrow.



Guys, tell me what you think - jack543216@aol.com
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