Meat Lovers

I was hungry but I didn't know what for. My wife had left that morning with our baby to visit her mother for the weekend. I'd spent most of the morning laying around, feeling guilty for not going with her. We'd fought about it. I texted her, she didn't text back. I played some video games. I went outside, it was a hot summer day. I looked over the wall that enclosed my yard and saw someone a few yards down, puttering around, a neighbor I didn't know.

Here was I was, twenty-seven years old, in the house we'd just bought six months ago and I felt like a bored teenager. I wished I had some pot, which was weird – I'd smoked only a couple times in college, never since then, I wanted something, anything. I wanted to be a little bad.

So I ordered a pizza. It was something my wife wouldn't abide by. She had a moratorium on all junk food in the house. I got anchovies, pepperoni, and olives, and they said it'd be there in forty-five minutes.

I thought about watching TV. I thought about taking my TV into the back yard and smashing it with a sledgehammer. I got a beer out of the fridge and sucked it down in ten minutes. Then I had another.

I was on my third beer when I got the idea to put some music on – the White Stripes, which was exactly right. I was walking down the hall when I caught a look at myself in the mirror. It made me stop and set down my beer. I was wearing a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. I lifted up the shirt.

I'm hot, was what I was thinking. In fact I sort of looked hotter than I ever have. My black hair was still thick, my jaw strong. My body had thickened but even that looked good, my abs nice and defined with a brush of dark hair over them, hair that became denser as it led into the waistband of my shorts.

I realized I was getting turned on just from looking at myself. It brought back memories of being a horny teenager when all I'd have to do was think about my dick before it would start to get hard. I felt like I hadn't noticed myself in years. When I jacked off, I'd do it before Angela came to bed or in the shower, quick and fast, my eyes closed – a duty to be done. Our sex life was normal, but that was done in the dark, too, and truthfully things had slacked off considerably since Maggie was born.

I ran my hand up my hairy, muscled chest, then back down my stomach and let my fingers dip into my waistband. I wanted to see all of me, because I was pretty sure my cock still looked as good as it had when I was younger, and I was starting to pull down the waistband when the doorbell rang.

Fuck. I had a full boner and now I had to go answer the door. I took some deep breaths and tried to will my cock to soften. It didn't go down much so I tucked it under the waistband and hoped for the best.

What would be the harm in showing off a little, anyway? I thought. I opened the door and there he stood. The pizza guy.

"Hey," he said, nodding his head at me. I'd ordered a large but because the minimum for delivery was fifteen bucks I got a two-liter as well, so both of his hands were full. He was young – twenty-one, if that – with sandy blond hair that curled out from under his baseball cap. He had blond stubble on his square chin and little black spacers in his earlobes. He was in his prime, I suppose, while I was past mine, but you could tell he was wasting it a little, reveling a little too hard in his youth, probably getting fucked up most nights on cheap canned beer and dirt weed. Still, his body was fit and toned under his flour-caked red t-shirt and sort-of-black, kitchen-filthy pants, his posture easy and available.

"It's fifteen fifty," he said. My cock was still tucked back under my waistband but it had softened. I casually let it drop and he didn't seem to notice. I reached for my pocket before I realized I didn't have one.

"Shoot – it's inside." When he shifted on his feet the unglued sole of his ratty black Converse fell open like a mouth. "Hold on a moment?"

"Actually," he said, leaning just slightly in as if to look past me and into the house. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure. Absolutely," I said, opening the door wide and stepping aside. "There's one right down the hall."

"Thanks, man," he said, and stepped past me. He stood there for a moment, awkwardly holding the pizza and soda until I took it from him. I pointed the way and he headed down the hall and into the bathroom. He swung the door behind him but it didn't shut – I was used to this. It bounced back and stayed half-open. The pizza guy didn't try to close it, which seemed strange.

I stood there for a moment as the sound of piss burbling into the toilet came to me, heavy and low. I couldn't remember where my wallet was. Why was I getting so distracted? It was my horniness, I realized. It had just crept up on me. There was something about this young guy, something that registered on a deep part of my brain that I wasn't used to hearing from. Something sexy...

I was just standing there with the food in my hands. I remembered that my wallet was on the kitchen counter. I headed down the hall, the sound of the pizza guy's piss getting a little less robust – he was finishing up. I intended to go quickly past him, to keep my gaze forward, to keep it normal.

When I got to the open door, though, I couldn't stop myself. I glanced inside. I intended it to be just that – glance once then look away – but what I saw so surprised me that I stopped in my tracks.

He was turned away from me but I could just see the front of him, and he was shaking off his cock into the toilet. His cock was huge. It hung low and was beer-can thick. It was sort of impossible to ignore.

He had a hand on the waistband of his underwear, the other hand holding up his jeans, and he was just tucking it inside his underwear when he looked up and our eyes met. It was just a moment, a glance, but my anxiety caught in my throat. I quickly looked away and walked on. The look on his face was inscrutable at that moment – not a rebuke, but not an invitation, either. It was too quick to process.

I set down the pizza and soda and got the money out of my wallet. I was counting it out when he walked into the kitchen. I stole another glance at his crotch, I think – I wanted to know here he was keeping that thing, how it fit in there. He did have a sizeable bulge, it even looked a little swollen, like the root of it was getting larger and making a dome-like tent in his zipper area. I handed him a twenty and a single. "Here you go," I said.

He took the money without a word and tucked it into the front right pocket of his pants. Then he looked at me, a level, serious look that made my heart quicken. He moved his eyes to my still-open wallet.

"You want anything else?" he said.

I didn't know what to say, even if a part of me knew what he was suggesting.

"I'll let you see it for that ten," he said, nodding toward my wallet. "But you can touch it for twenty."

I wanted to see it. Something about this young man's brash confidence, his cockiness, was intoxicating. I reached in my wallet and took out the ten. He snatched it out of my hand and made as if to shove it in his front pocket, but stopped.

"You sure you don't want to touch it?" he said, in an almost accusing way, like he'd been down this road before and everybody ended up wanting to touch it. "Cause once I take it out, you can't change your mind." I bit my lip. "I'll let you look for a minute but if you try to touch it I'll fuck you up. Better give me that other ten now."

I dipped back into my wallet and pulled out the other ten dollar bill. The kid's cockeyed grin was somehow obnoxious and sexy at the same time.

He took the other bill and stuffed both into his pants. Then, without looking up, he began to unbutton them. "You got a minute and a half," he said. He looked at me. "Got it?"

"Okay," I said, nodding. I was outside my body, I'd entered some other world, where the roles were switched and I was being held sway by this sexy little punk of a pizza boy.

"Don't try to kiss it or anything queer like that," he said as he reached into his underwear. He took hold, lifted, and there it was, hanging like a fire hose half-engorged and thickening. He let it hang there outside his pants. He flexed it and it bounced just a little, quavering like a ripple atop a lake.

I stared in awe and, well, confusion. I was surprised at myself. Of course I'd always had fantasies about playing with another guy's dick – any guy who says he hasn't wondered about it is lying, or very out of touch with their sexuality. I mean, most straight porn is half-pussy, half-schlong anyway. You have to wonder.

But fantasizing about something and actually doing it are two different things, of course. I found myself wishing I hadn't paid to touch it after all, that if I'd kept it just as a look it would be safer somehow. Here was this ginormous cock held out for me to play with – it was a little intimidating, I suppose.

And it kept getting more intimidating, engorging and rising as we stood there in the kitchen, the clock ticking, the refrigerator droning its anxious hum. "Time's wasting, buddy," he said, and just the way he said "buddy" had the drip of domination about it. This kid may have been younger than me but he knew exactly what I wanted and exactly what he'd let me do, nothing more. "I got two more deliveries after this. Shit's getting cold."

It hung nearly nine inches long and it was so thick that it appeared to be at full erection even though it wasn't rising up to a ninety-degree angle. What would it feel like in my hand? It was so big...

I reached out and slipped my fingertips underneath it and along the underside until it rested in my palm. I felt its weight, its heat. I pulled my hand forward and felt it drag against my palm. It got harder. I wrapped my fingers around the plum-like head, round and solid, and gently squeezed it. His shaft just continued to expand, the core of it girded with a steel tension rod, spongy tissue, hot and engorged, filling it out, puffy veins thick as pipes curling around it.

I stroked it, from the tip down to the base. My hand could barely close around the base. The stroke made him shift on his feet a little. I looked up at his face, he was looking right at me; some of the cockiness had dissipated.

"Damn, bro," he said, looking down at me. "You got me so hard." I pulled my palm back up. It twitched, a little, the head bounced up. "Didn't realize I was so horny."

I leaned my face into it. I wasn't even aware I was doing it, I just wanted to get closer to it, its heat, to feel it against my arm, my face, my lips. Then without realizing it I was getting on my knees, and he backed away and swiped my hand away from his cock.

"I shoulda figured you'd try that," he said, smirking.

"I won't suck it," I said.

"Better not," he said, and relaxed his stance. I held it again, wrapping my fist around it this time. My fingers barely closed around it. I jacked it once, twice.

"Minute's almost up," he said. I tried to smell him without making it obvious. It was musky, yeasty, like sweat and weed and pizza dough. He noticed instantly. "Like sniffin my dong?" he said, laughing. "My sweaty nards?" I sniffed down toward them. It sounds crazy but they smelled even better. It was a familiar smell, of course, one I sort of appreciated on myself even if I was aware that it didn't smell "good," particularly. But smelling him was different.

"Queers, man," he said, laughing. "Alright, I'll let you lick those. Since you like the smell so much. But just my nuts, nothing else alright? Alright?"

"Yes," I said. I got down lower. Was I ready for this? I took a good sniff of his balls, pressing my nose now into his nest of damp sandy-brown pubes. I took a good whiff and my cock just throbbed. The smell was so different from a woman, but so familiar to me that it had this disorienting effect that revved my libido into a vortex. I put out my tongue and licked up under them, letting the left one roll on my tongue just a bit. I wanted more of that smell. I wanted it to cover me.

"I'll let you kiss it, then," he said, and now I could tell he was really turned on, maybe as much as I was. "Just a kiss, though, cause I'm so fuckin horny."

I let the tip of his cock graze my nose. There was slickness at the tip, in the slit – not quite a drop, but a stickiness that made the head of his cock stick to my nose for just a second before it jerked and popped upward. I put my lips to it, feeling the heat of it on my lips. I put my lips to it and kissed, just as sweet and soft as could be.

"Nice," he said. "Kiss it again." I gently kissed the head, the slit. I kept kissing, down the sticky skin of his shaft, smacking my lips against his hot flesh, loving, worshipful kisses to show him how much I appreciated his beautiful cock, how unworthy I was to be kissing such a piece, how grateful. "Fuck yes," he said. When I got to his nuts I kissed them, then made my way back up, smooch smooch smooch until I was kissing the head. This time there was a solid drop of precum there.

"If you lick it, it's going to go in your ass," I heard him saying, but my mind wasn't quite paying attention. I was focused on that drop of precum, and I put my lips to it so that it smeared into my lips. Smooch. His breath was getting ragged. I was rock hard in my shorts. "Got that? Lick it if you want but don't start what you can't finish. I don't go for just blowjobs, if you get me going and I need to fuck. It's going in your ass. Understand?" The slit of his cock was wide and fat, almost like a little cunt, and I never stopped, it just happened – I brought out my tongue and licked into it, into the tiny pool of his prejizz, the hot slit of his giant cock. It tasted so good, tasted like me, tasted like a juicy cock. He let out his breath. "You've done it now," he said as I went in for another lick, instantly resigned to my fate. He took me by the chin. "You know what you're in for, right?" he said. All I could do was nod. He put his cock back in my face. I honestly had never been fucked and had no idea if I could get fucked, let alone take a piece as massive as his. However, as soon as I thought that I felt my hole loosen and get hot, like it was hungry, begging with its mouth open.

I licked up his shaft, licking it fully this time, my tongue flat and wide, tasting as much as of him as I could, getting every inch of the underside wet with my spit. It tasted so good, young salty horny flesh.

"Fuck yes," he said, letting out his breath. "You know that you want that cock inside you, filling up your hot little faggot ass. Don't you?"

It was funny that he called me faggot given that I'd never even touched another guy's cock up until that moment, but he really sold the whole macho thing. I took the head of it into my mouth and wrapped my tongue. I wanted to stuff as much of that piece into my puss as I could. I let the head pass over my tongue, let it poke into my mouth. My throat muscles relaxed as my ass muscles relaxed. It wasn't just curiosity about a big cock that had gotten me to where I was at that moment, it was that what he was saying was true: I wanted it inside me. My lips stretched around it, my throat felt like I'd swallowed five hot dogs at the same time, my eyes were watering and my nose wasn't even touching his pubic hair yet. I had to come up and get a breath.

"C'mon cocksucker, you can do better than that," he said. I tried again, starting at the tip and working my mouth and throat down it. My throat felt like it stretched out a little more this time. Feeling my face get filled up by that massive schlong was an intoxicating thing. I imagined what it was like for my wife, imagined I was her, and that's when I moved my hand down my back and into my shorts so I could feel my hole and press my fingers into its heat. Yeah, I wanted to be a whore for him. I wanted to be his fuck hole, to be used.

But wanting is one thing and getting another. When he impatiently pulled his cock out of my mouth I knew was due for the latter and I got a little scared.

"Ready to get your guts rammed in?" he said.

"I don't know..." I said, standing and wiping my mouth.

"The fuck you don't," he said, standing there with his pants around his ankles. He pulled off his shirt, knocking his cap to the floor in the process, and stood there mostly naked, stroking his cock in front of him. He had a flat, sexy stomach, the slightest definition of pectorals on his chest, no hair anywhere but for right above his cock. He took my arm and spun me around so that I was facing the counter.

"Tell me you've never had a cock up your ass before," he said.

"Never."

"A virgin?" he said, and pushed his hand against my lower back so that my torso lowered and I had to brace myself against the counter. I heard what sounded like him wetting his finger in his mouth, then he pressed it to my ass, fumbling a bit to find my hole. When he found it he shoved his finger in, just like that. The shock of it made me jerk forward but he didn't seem to notice or care. He pushed his finger in once, twice. "Fucking A. I love virgins. Tight as hell." I concentrated on breathing and relaxing and was surprised to find that it was pretty enjoyable.

"Please go easy on me," I said. He just laughed and took out his finger.

"I'll lube you up, that's about it. Got any slippery stuff? Vaseline? Crisco?" I went to the cabinet and grabbed the first thing I found – a bottle of my wife's expensive olive oil. Extra virgin.

"Alright," he said as I handed to him. He threw the cap on the floor, poured some on his cock and smoothed it in, then brought two oily fingers to my hole and shoved them in just as unceremoniously as he'd slid in the first one. I might have gasped a little but, again, after I got over the shock of the invasion it felt good. Even better than just one.

"Fuck I need to cum," he said, and took out his fingers. He pressed the head of his cock against my ass and I took a deep breath and did my best to prepare myself. He pushed down on my back again so that my ass would be more perfectly perched up for him. I think that was the best part of it for me, the way he seemed fully focused on his own pleasure and willing to use me for it, like I was just a tight place to deposit his seed, something a little better than his hand but not worth much else.

When the head of his massive schlong popped inside I nearly cried out, but I think I was too shocked to do that. Then I was just trying to catch my breath because he was not giving me any time to adjust, he just kept pushing it in at a steady clip, inch by inch, groaning as if savoring the tightness of my tight virgin asshole.

"Goddamn that's good," he said and he bottomed out, his pubes and nuts pushed against me. My face was covered in sweat and I felt like I had a torpedo lodged in my guts. When he pulled out and shoved it back in I found it intensely pleasurable, not just because I was making good use of myself as a sheath for his cock but because he was tripping a switch in me – the prostate, I suppose.

"Take that cock you fucking slut," he said, grabbing onto my hips and banging me from behind, steady quick thrusts that made his nuts slap against me, the sound of skin hitting skin and our moans echoing in the quiet of the kitchen. I wondered if this was how my wife would like to get fucked. I tended to treat girls delicately, focused on their pleasure, on getting them off. I'd never been like this.

Mostly I was holding on for dear life, so it was a surprise when I reached down to feel my cock and realized I was mostly hard. In fact I'd dripped so much that there was a little trail of precum from where my cock was riding against the side of the counter. I held on to my cock and stroked while he banged me, his thrusts getting wilder and rougher, slamming his pelvis so hard against me that it hurt.