I never thought I'd be the guy sucking cock in a motel room, but there I was, knees on cheap carpet, staring at Jake's thick dick bobbing in front of my face. We'd been drinking at the bar for hours, him bitching about his ex, me pretending I wasn't rock hard every time his thigh brushed mine on the stool. Straight as an arrow, that's what I told myself. Married once, fucked plenty of women. Then Jake leaned in close, breath hot on my ear, and said, "Bet you've never had a real man take you apart."
I should have laughed it off. Instead I followed him to his room, heart hammering, dick straining against my jeans like it had a mind of its own. The door clicked shut and he was on me, rough hands yanking my shirt up, mouth crushing mine. His tongue shoved past my teeth, tasting like whiskey and something darker. I groaned into it, hating how fast my body betrayed me.
"Strip," he ordered, voice low and filthy. I did, peeling off layers until I stood naked, cock leaking at the tip. Jake's eyes raked over me, then he shoved me to my knees. "Open up. First time, right? Gonna teach you how to take it."
His cock was veined, heavy, the head already slick. I wrapped my lips around it, tasting salt and skin. He thrust shallow at first, letting me get used to the stretch, then deeper until I gagged. Spit ran down my chin. I sucked harder, tongue working the underside, and Jake cursed, fingers twisting in my hair. "Fuck, you're a natural cocksucker for a straight boy."
The words burned and turned me on at the same time. My own dick throbbed untouched. He pulled out, hauled me up, and bent me over the bed. Lube slicked cold between my cheeks, then a thick finger pushed inside. I grunted, pushing back without thinking. He worked me open slow, adding another finger, scissoring until I was panting and rocking against his hand.
"Want my cock?" he growled.
"Yeah," I rasped. "Do it."
He lined up and shoved in. The burn was sharp, stretching me wide, but it melted into heat fast. Inch by inch he filled me, balls deep, hips flush against my ass. I clawed the sheets, moaning like a whore. Jake started fucking, hard and steady, each thrust punching a grunt out of me. My prostate lit up every time he nailed it, sending sparks through my balls.
"Harder," I begged, voice wrecked. He gave it to me, pounding deep, skin slapping loud in the room. One hand reached around and jerked my cock in time with his thrusts. Pre-cum smeared his fist.
I came first, shooting ropes across the sheets, hole clenching tight around him. Jake followed seconds later, flooding me hot and thick, hips jerking as he emptied.
We collapsed, breathing ragged. He didn't pull out right away, just stayed buried, hand stroking my back. "Not so straight now," he muttered.
I laughed, shaky. "Guess not."
We went again that night, slower the second time, him riding me while I learned how to angle just right. By morning I knew the taste of his cum, the feel of being split open, and that "straight" was a label I'd outgrown in one filthy night.
