The bar was loud and the guy at the end of the counter looked straight as hell. Button-down shirt, wedding ring, nervous eyes checking the door every few minutes. I walked over, sat down next to him, and bought him a shot without asking.
"First time?" I said.
He swallowed the whiskey and nodded once. "Just curious."
"Curious gets you on your knees. You ready for that?"
He didn't answer right away. His hand shook a little when he set the glass down. I leaned in close so only he could hear.
"Name's Rick. You're gonna come with me, shut your mouth, and do what I tell you. Or you can finish that drink and go home to your wife. Your call."
Ten minutes later we were in my apartment.
I locked the door and pointed at the floor.
"Strip. Everything off. Then get on your knees."
He did it slow, like he was still deciding, but his cock was already half hard when he pushed his boxers down. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his face up.
"Open your mouth, straight boy."
He hesitated. I slapped my cock against his cheek, hard and thick, already leaking.
"Suck my cock, bitch. That's what you came here for."
His lips parted and I shoved in. No warm-up, just straight to the back of his throat. He gagged and tried to pull back but I held him there, hips rocking, feeding him inch after inch until his nose pressed against my stomach.
"That's it. Take it. Good straight bitch."
Spit ran down his chin. I fucked his face in short, rough thrusts, watching his eyes water. Every time he tried to breathe I pushed deeper. His hands stayed on his thighs like I'd told him. When I pulled out he coughed and gasped, strings of spit connecting his lips to my cock.
"Turn around. Hands on the couch."
He obeyed. I kicked his legs apart, spit on his hole, and pressed the head of my cock against it.
"Breathe out. This is gonna hurt."
I pushed in slow at first, then slammed the rest of the way when he tensed. He yelled. I grabbed his hips and started pounding, deep and steady, balls slapping his ass with every thrust.
"Fuck, you're tight. Never had a real cock before, have you?"
He shook his head, moaning now, pushing back against me. I reached under him and grabbed his dick. It was rock hard and dripping.
"Look at that. Straight guy leaking while he gets fucked. Pathetic."
I pulled out, flipped him onto his back on the floor, and shoved back in. His legs went over my shoulders. I fucked him harder, watching his face twist between pain and something darker. Every time he opened his mouth I spat in it.
"Swallow it. Good bitch."
I pulled out again and straddled his chest, feeding my cock back into his mouth while I jerked him off. He sucked like he was starving, tongue working the underside, eyes locked on mine. When I felt his balls tighten I yanked my cock out and painted his face, thick ropes across his lips, cheek, and forehead.
"Don't wipe it off."
I kept stroking him until he came all over his own stomach, body jerking, a broken sound leaving his throat. I smeared my cum into his skin with my fingers and pushed two into his mouth.
"Clean them."
He licked them clean, sucking like he'd been doing it for years. When I finally stood up he stayed on the floor, breathing hard, cum drying on his face.
"Same time next week," I said. "Don't be late."
He nodded, still on his knees, and I knew he'd be back. Straight guys always come back once they get a taste.
