I hit the nifty.org gay section again that night, cock already half-hard from the search bar. The stories always got me going fast—guys meeting in parks, sucking in bathrooms, getting bent over and pounded without names. I wanted the real thing. My apartment door was unlocked on purpose when the knock came.
He walked in without a word, just like the ad said. Tall, thick build, jeans already tented. "You the one looking for a load?" he asked.
I nodded, dropping to my knees right there in the hallway. His zipper came down and that fat cock sprang out, veined and leaking. I wrapped my lips around the head and sucked hard, tasting salt and skin. He groaned and shoved deeper, hitting the back of my throat. I gagged but kept going, spit running down my chin as I bobbed and slurped like the stories always described.
He pulled me up after a minute, spun me around, and yanked my pants down. No lube at first—just spit on his fingers shoved into my hole. Two, then three, stretching me open while he muttered, "Tight fucking ass. Gonna wreck it." I pushed back on his hand, hungry for it. When he replaced his fingers with that thick cock, it burned going in. He didn't ease up. One hard thrust and he was balls-deep, hips slapping my ass as he started fucking me right there against the wall.
Every stroke was rough and direct. He grabbed my hips, pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in. My cock bounced with each thrust, dripping precome onto the floor. "Fuck me harder," I grunted, and he did—pounding so deep I felt it in my guts. Sweat slicked our skin. He reached around and jerked my dick in time with his thrusts, rough and fast. I came first, shooting across the wall with a loud moan while my ass clamped down on him.
He didn't stop. He kept railing me through the aftershocks until his rhythm broke and he buried himself deep, flooding my hole with hot pulses of come. It leaked out around his cock as he kept twitching inside me. When he pulled out, I felt the mess drip down my thighs. He wiped his cock on my ass cheek, zipped up, and left without another word.
I stayed bent over a minute, hole sore and used, come running out of me. Then I went back to the computer, opened nifty.org again, and started typing the story while it was still fresh.
