I showed up at his door with my black nail polish chipped, septum ring glinting, and a faded Misfits tee stretched tight across my chest. Twenty-one years old, still living at home, taking any cash gig I could get. The guy who answered was thirty, built like he lifted heavy shit for a living, and he looked me up and down like he already knew what I was hiding under the ripped black jeans.
Kids were asleep. He paid me in cash and offered a beer. I took it. We sat on the back porch and he asked about my tattoos, the ones that crawled up my arms and disappeared under my sleeves. I told him about the first one I got at eighteen, how it hurt so good I got hard in the chair. He laughed low and dirty. His knee brushed mine and stayed there.
“Never been with a guy before?” he asked, voice rough.
I shook my head. My cock was already thickening against my zipper.
He didn’t waste time. Pulled me inside, shoved me against the kitchen counter, and kissed me hard enough to taste the beer on his tongue. His hand went straight to my dick, squeezing through denim like he owned it. “Fuck, you’re already leaking,” he muttered. I moaned into his mouth when he popped the button on my jeans and wrapped his fist around my bare shaft.
We didn’t make it to the bedroom at first. He dropped to his knees right there on the linoleum, yanked my pants down, and swallowed my cock in one hot, wet slide. I grabbed the counter edge and tried not to come on the spot. His tongue worked the underside, sucking loud and sloppy, spit running down my balls. First time anyone had ever done this to me. My hips jerked forward on instinct and he took it, gagging once but not pulling off.
When he stood up he spun me around, bent me over the counter, and spread my ass. His fingers were thick and callused. He spit on my hole and pushed one inside without asking. I hissed at the burn, but my cock twitched and drooled onto the floor. “Tight virgin cunt,” he growled, working that finger deeper, twisting it until he found the spot that made my legs shake. Second finger followed fast. He finger-fucked me open while he jerked my dick from behind, talking filthy the whole time. “Gonna wreck this pretty pink hole. Gonna fill you up till you’re dripping my load.”
I begged. Didn’t even know the words were coming out until I heard myself: “Please, fuck me. I want it raw.”
He dragged me to the couch, shoved me face-down into the cushions, and lined up. The head of his cock was fat and blunt. He pushed in slow at first, letting me feel every inch stretch me open. It hurt. It felt fucking perfect. When he bottomed out I was panting and clawing the fabric. He gave me three seconds before he started pounding.
Hard, deep strokes that slapped his balls against mine. He held my hips and used me like a toy, grunting every time he sank all the way in. I reached under myself and jerked my cock in time with his thrusts, already close. He leaned over my back, bit my shoulder through my shirt, and whispered how good my ass felt milking him. “First load’s gonna be quick. Gonna pump you full, then flip you over and do it again.”
He wasn’t lying. A few more brutal thrusts and he buried himself to the root, cock pulsing as he shot deep inside me. I felt every hot spurt. That was all it took. I came all over my hand and the couch, hole clenching around him, milking out every drop.
He stayed inside me while we caught our breath, then pulled out slow so I could feel his cum start to leak. He flipped me onto my back, pushed my knees to my chest, and slid back in like he never left. Second round was slower but just as filthy. He made me watch his cock disappear into my stretched, cum-slick hole. Made me say how much I loved getting fucked for the first time. I came again with his hand around my throat and his tongue in my mouth.
Afterward he cleaned me up with his tongue, licked his own load out of my ass until I was hard again. We didn’t stop until the sun came up and the kids started stirring upstairs. I walked home bow-legged, ass sore and leaking, already planning when I could babysit again.
