I spotted him the second he walked into the bar, all tight jeans and that cocky smirk like he knew exactly what he wanted. I was nursing a beer at the counter when he slid up next to me, ordered a whiskey neat, and leaned in close enough for me to smell his cologne mixed with sweat.
"Looking for trouble tonight?" he asked, voice low and rough.
I grinned, finished my drink, and said, "Only if trouble fucks like he means it."
Ten minutes later we were in the backroom, door locked, the thump of bass from the dance floor vibrating through the walls. He shoved me against the stacked crates, hands already yanking my shirt up. His mouth crashed into mine, tongue pushing deep, teeth scraping my lower lip.
I grabbed his ass, hard and round, pulling him flush so our cocks ground together through denim.
"Fuck, you're thick," he muttered, popping my fly open. His hand dove in, wrapped around my shaft, and started stroking fast, thumb smearing the precum leaking from my slit. I groaned, hips bucking into his fist.
"Get on your knees," I told him. He dropped without hesitation, yanking my jeans down to my thighs. His hot mouth swallowed me in one go, lips stretching around my cock, tongue working the underside as he took me to the root. I thrust shallow, fucking his face, watching spit drip down his chin. He gagged once, pulled off gasping, then dove back in, sucking harder, one hand cupping my balls and tugging just right.
I pulled him up before I blew, spun him around, and bent him over a crate. His ass was perfect, pale and firm. I spit on my fingers, shoved two inside him, working him open fast. He pushed back, moaning filthy. "More, stretch that hole."
I added a third finger, scissoring, feeling him clench. When he was loose and slick, I lined up, pressed the head of my cock against his rim, and drove in deep in one thrust. He yelled, a raw sound that went straight to my balls. I gripped his hips and started pounding, balls slapping, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the room.
He reached back, spread himself wider for me. "Harder, fuck me like you hate me." I slammed in, angle hitting his prostate every time. Sweat poured off us. I reached around, jerked his cock in time with my thrusts, feeling it throb in my fist.
He came first, shooting thick ropes across the crate, hole spasming around my dick. That pushed me over. I buried myself balls-deep and unloaded, flooding him with pulse after pulse of cum. I stayed inside until I softened, then pulled out slow, watching my load leak down his thighs.
We cleaned up with paper towels, swapped numbers, and headed back to the bar like nothing happened. But we both knew we'd be back in that backroom soon.
