I met him on the app at 2 a.m. after jerking off to the latest nifty stories gay uploads. His profile said he was 29, hung, and looking for a quick load dump. I messaged first: "Your cock looks thick. You free now?" He replied with an address two blocks away and "door's open, get naked when you walk in."
I stripped in his hallway like he told me. The air hit my skin and my dick was already half hard. He stood in the living room in nothing but gray sweatpants, the outline of his meat pressing heavy against the fabric. "On your knees," he said. No hello, no small talk. I dropped.
His cock sprang out when he shoved the waistband down. Thick, veined, already leaking. I opened my mouth and he pushed straight in, no teasing. The head hit the back of my throat on the first thrust and I gagged, spit running down my chin. He grabbed my hair and fucked my face in steady strokes, balls slapping my chin every time he bottomed out. "Suck it like you mean it," he growled. I did, hollowing my cheeks, tongue flat against the underside, taking him deeper each time until my nose pressed into his trimmed pubes.
He pulled out and hauled me up, spun me around, and bent me over the back of his couch. One hand spread my ass while the other spat on my hole. Two fingers shoved in without warning, twisting and stretching. "Tight little fuckhole," he muttered. I pushed back on his hand, wanting more. He lined up and drove his cock in one long thrust. The burn was sharp, then flooded into that deep ache that made my own dick twitch and drip onto the floor.
He didn't go slow. He pounded me, hips slapping loud against my ass, hands gripping my waist hard enough to bruise.
Every thrust knocked a grunt out of me. "Fuck, yeah, use that hole," I heard myself say. He reached around and grabbed my cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts, rough and fast. Precome smeared over his fist. My legs shook. The couch creaked under us.
He pulled out, flipped me onto my back on the cushions, and shoved back in. Now I could see his face, jaw tight, eyes locked on where his cock disappeared into me. Sweat dripped from his chest onto my stomach. He hooked my legs over his shoulders and went deeper, angling so every stroke dragged across my prostate. My balls drew up tight. "Gonna come," I warned. He stroked me harder and I shot across my chest, ropes hitting my chin. My hole clenched around him and he groaned, buried himself to the root, and unloaded. I felt every hot pulse flood inside me.
He stayed buried while we caught our breath, then eased out. Cum leaked down my crack onto the couch. He wiped his cock on my thigh and tossed me a towel. "Shower's down the hall if you want it," he said. I cleaned up quick, got dressed, and left. My phone buzzed on the walk home with another message from him: "Same time tomorrow?"
I already knew I'd be there.
