Brook's Deja Vu
This story is entirely fictional. All characters engaged in sexual activity are 18 or over. No AI was used in the production. ©2024. All rights reserved. Brunosden
I awakened with the sun in my eyes. Dry mouthed and a little hung over with the beginnings of a headache. With a stiff dick tenting the sheet so hard and high that it was almost painful. Sunday morning. My first thoughts: Great. No work today. The only day my gym was closed. My only day off. I'm going to enjoy the condo pool and chill. Maybe get a little work done on the short story I'm writing for Literotica. I glanced over and saw several empty foil condom wrappers next to the lube on the side table. Then I rolled to my other side. I wasn't alone in bed, but I didn't know who was with me. I must have brought someone home last night--again. Another nameless, pretty, hairless twink. He was still sleeping, body turned away from mine, bubble butt peaking out at me as I lifted the sheet. Cum, mine I assumed, surrounded the abused pink hole, decorating the smooth skin, glistening in the sunshine. Fuck. I hope that was late cum. I didn't usually take my tricks bare. Sometimes, however, I gave them facials or body or ass coats after I pulled out. Again. When will I ever learn? I guess I'll need to get tested.
I got up slowly and shuffled to the bath. I took a leak, difficult as it was with the morning wood. Then I moved to the sink. Looking in the full wall mirror, I silently groaned. I looked like I had been on the wrong side of an accident or a fight. Oily black hair with curls dropping over my eyes. Pasty skin--even paler than my normal "black Irish" porcelain skin. Dark beard showing through. Dark under the eyes. Swollen lips--I guess he's a kisser--or maybe I blew him before I fucked him. I was grateful that my day job as a personal trainer meant that, despite my tendency to engage in weekend debauchery, and although my face looked like a trainwreck, my body was still pumped and prime and hard. Slab pecs. Huge guns. Cut abs. Thick thighs. Small waist. Manscaped. Rigidly erect cock nearly reaching my naval. Pickups at O'Malley's were still easy for me. And I had nearly 24 hours before I was on duty. I needed to get it together.
Then I felt someone behind me. He caressed my ass and his hand lingered on the hard globes as he moved past me to the toilet to relieve himself. I caught his reflection in the mirror. And I suddenly realized why he was here. Thick, curly ginger hair. Sexy pale blue eyes. Pinkish light tan. Thick red lips. Slim. Much shorter than my six foot plus. And hung--probably at least six with just the semi he still sported. It was somewhat incongruous given his body size and shape. Definitely my flavor of choice for a quickie or a toy.
"Good morning, Sunshine." (My all-purpose greeting when I didn't remember the guy's name.)
"You too, Brook. Got any aspirin in that medicine cabinet?"
I handed him the bottle and he gulped about four with water from the sink faucet in his cupped hand.
"Sleep well?"
"How could I? You were still pounding my ass at 4 this morning. I can't believe your stamina. I can almost walk." But, he smiled sarcastically through the complaint. He obviously believed he had scored big time. The place was nice; the bath, luxurious; and, I was definitely a hunk. And I hadn't beat him up.
Then I had a flashback, and it all came to me. I had gone to O'Malley's late--probably close to 11--for a nightcap after a long day at the gym and four hours of business bookkeeping until my eyes glazed over with the blurring numbers--one of the joys of small business ownership! At the bar, I had spotted the twink immediately--my type, small and strawberry blonde with a nice basket behind a threadbare jeans crotch. Tight tee, at least two sizes too small. Not an ounce of fat. He looked to be at least temporarily alone. He was probably old enough--they carded at O'Malley's on Saturdays. I gave him the dom "come hither" look, turned from the bar, and man-stretched out my legs, exhibiting my package and creating a welcoming vee. He stepped in and our crotches touched. I bought him a drink. A few minutes later, we headed for the crowded dance floor. Three long slow dances during which I had explored his ass cheeks and cleft and two drinks later, he was sitting in my lap in one of the booths, giving me a lapdance while we necked and my hand explored under his tee and diddled his tits. He was gasping and hot. He was ripe and ready. He was going to give me anything I wanted.
I was hard, and he could easily tell that I was built. In a soft, sub voice, he whispered, "Take me home, big boy. I need that monster in my ass. And it's still too crowded in here."
I guess we had walked to my nearby apartment. I just didn't remember the details. I was tired after a twelve hour day, but not really drunk. I do remember stripping him, then me. His eyes went huge when he saw my size. I lifted him and pitched him on the bed, and when my head hit the pillow, the world began to turn. I simply didn't remember much more. But, I've done it so many times, I can write the script. Apparently, I had done him, many times based on the spent condoms. Later in the morning he offhandedly remarked that he had never before been with someone who could fuck three times in a row without ever going soft. He was explicit enough with his description of my cock and technique, that I knew he wasn't faking it.
"Let's take this back to bed for a little while. The aspirin will begin to work in a few minutes. Then maybe I'll make us some breakfast before you go." (I was already setting the parameters of our hook--it was going to be over in a few hours.) So we returned to my king and I manhandled him into a spoon, my dick resting between his thighs and my fingers surrounding his hardening dick. We slept again (at least I did--not sure how he could with me trapping his dick in my sturdy fist) for maybe a half hour.
Once more I awakened, hard. But this time, there was a different reason. The twink's lips were firmly sucking on my dick head as his fingers caressed my balls while the heel of his hand put pressure on the taint. I looked down to see his beautiful blonde curls bouncing into my crotch. I stretched and began to arch my dick into his face and mouth. Sunshine was clearly enjoying his work. He choked a bit. Then went back to work and actually deep-throated me as I finger penetrated my hole. He sucked hard, the way I like it. He was definitely a pro. It was certainly in the top ten of blow jobs so far. He sucked, swirled, played with the hood, tongued the slit--and when he felt a pre-orgasmic spasm, he tightened a ring around the base of my shaft, edging me quite nicely with his index finger scraping my prostate. This continued for maybe five or ten minutes until I couldn't take the pressure anymore. I reached down, removed his constraining fingers and blasted my morning cum into his waiting mouth. So much that it dripped from the edges of his lips. He looked incredibly cute with my pearly cum overflowing his smile. And it felt wonderful.
Then, just to be a good host, I pulled him up and quickly jerked off his rock hard dick, moving my cum-filled fist to his mouth. He knew what was expected. He slurped it down like it was his last meal. I knew then he was mine for as long as I wanted him. But, I had work to do. And I never did two consecutive nights.
We rose and went to the shower. He was like a toy beside me, maybe half my size. So I washed him carefully and scrubbed his curls, brushing my soft dick on his globes and abs. By then, I was ready to go again. "I'm going to give you a going away present." I pushed him toward the shower wall, spread his arms and kicked his legs apart. He knew the drill. He pushed out his cute little butt. So I moved behind him, lubed with a little conditioner and rammed with one thrust. He whined, perhaps in a little pain, but pushed back into my gut. He wanted it, hard and fast and maybe with a bit of pain. He had just almost emptied me, so I was primed for a nice long invasion and siege of his hole. I stroked and stroked as his whines turned to gasps of pleasure.
Suddenly, he pushed forward and I pulled out. He turned and climbed up around my waist, his arms around my neck. He positioned my rampant dick at his hole. He wanted a deep cowboy bounce. He really was a cock slut. Using my powerful arms and hands, I lifted him and dropped him repeatedly on my pole. I'm pretty sure that I was poking his second ring. His eyes popped open as though to say, "Yeah, there, where no man has gone before." I know I was crowding and massaging his prostate. His color darkened to a nice blush pink. He was getting closer. I plunged hard and pushed him into my cock. I felt the inner ring give way. I was deep and home. I pushed him to the shower wall. Then I erupted filling him with my hot, creamy cum. He followed instantaneously with a several long shots of stringy cum. He went limp. His face fell to my pec, and he sucked a thank you hickey. Then it was over. We finished rinsing our cum, dried and dressed. Now I knew I had to be tested.
I took him to a late breakfast--at the local branch of Morning Fresh. I had been there many times--with many conquests. The waiters and waitresses all knew me and winked silently at my luck, my latest toy. This caused me to really look at him carefully. He was a beautiful cherubic boy, angelic and innocent. Little did they all know what he really was--a dirty little cock-hungry fuck toy. We each had a huge breakfast. Later we parted--and I still didn't know the twink's name. We hadn't exchanged numbers.
At least I had something to write about that afternoon.