The Tallest Sub

I spent the entire ride checking my texts, but there was no response. By the time I got home, the adrenaline had faded, the buzz of being taken had worn off, and my knees were kinda sore from the tiled floor. I felt so tired, just unbelievably drained, mentally and emotionally. I flopped onto the bed, fully clothed, and never even got under the covers.

My alarm woke me up, and I dragged myself through my routine and went off to work. I checked my messages before getting in the car, but still nothing. I spent the ride thinking about what this meant. I started to convince myself it was just a thing that happened.

I'm not gay, I got caught up in the moment. It was exciting, but I'd been in a dry spell, I needed some release and the opportunity was there. It didn't mean anything. I'm still straight.

I thought.

I was so absorbed in my thoughts, I didn't even notice I was going full speed at a stop sign. I slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop, nearly hitting a beat-up pickup truck. The truck crossed right in front of me, rage on the driver's face, his middle finger extended in my direction.

"Cocksucker!" he mouthed, as he drove by.

I sat there for a few seconds, and a tiny voice in the back of my head said,

"You are, y'know. You sucked a cock. You liked it. You're a cocksucker."

When someone honked, I started moving again.

I work at a pretty large warehouse, mostly doing inventory, writing up safety incidents, and managing the crew to make sure everyone was doing their work. Everything about my day should have been the same as it had been yesterday, but somehow, it felt different.

I found myself talking to Kevin, while he was looking for some lift straps, and even though I had worked with him for years, it was like I was seeing him for the first time. He was a few years older than me, had a deep brown tan, solid build and a little bit of a gut.

"I wonder if his cock is as tan as his arms,"

said the voice in the back of my head.

"You need something else?" he asked, while I was spacing out.

"Nope, all good." And I walked away as quickly as I could.

My dick was stirring in my pants, and I had trouble concentrating. I tried to think only about work-- about parts and inventory.

Get through the night, don't think about it.

But then I'd read Heavy Load on the side of a box, and would just lose my train of thought.

Every time I spoke with one of the guys, that voice in the back of my head was there.

"I wonder if Jim's packing a thick cock? ... I bet Chris is uncut. ... Ty's balls are probably huge."

I started checking my phone every fifteen minutes, but nothing. I went to the break room and drank some water, and tried to center myself. It was unbearable.

I spent the rest of the day hiding from the same coworkers I had been comfortable making dick jokes with twenty-four hours ago. When my shift ended, I got in my car and put my head on the wheel and just took a few deep breaths.

"It was a one-time thing. You're not gay, put it out of your head,"

I said to myself.

I looked over at my phone, and I had one missed message. It read, "how bad?"

I sat there staring at it. I could have written a manifesto about how bad I needed it at that moment.

I typed back, "I'm sitting in my car, dripping precum. I spent my entire shift thinking about dick."

Their dots appeared, and it felt like an eternity waiting for a response.

"Good boy. Meet me at my place, I'll drop you a pin."

I showed up to an apartment complex and parked. I walked up to a front door with a panel buzzer, and it was then that I realized I had no idea what this guy's name was. I'd licked his balls and made him cum and I didn't even know his name. I felt a little rush of excitement at the thought. I quickly texted him that I was there; he replied with '5c' and the door buzzed.

I made my way up to his apartment, and he opened the door, telling me to come in. I didn't really know how to greet him.

Do you shake the hand of a guy that knows how deep your throat goes? Or is that a hug scenario?

Instead, I just walked in with my hands in my pockets. His apartment looked pretty comfy, a long couch and a big recliner next to it, there was a football jersey framed and signed on the wall, and a series of Keanu Reeves movie posters next to the TV. The decor screamed 'single dude lives here'.

"I realized on the way over, I don't actually know your name," I said.

"And you still came. Wow, you really do need it, huh? It's Jason. Why don't you grab two beers and tell me why you came over tonight," he said.

I grabbed two cans from the fridge and opened one for him and then opened my own. He smiled a little and sat down in the recliner, and it put me at ease.

I took a seat on the couch, and took a deep breath.

I've come this far, no point in holding back now.

"I went to work today, and I suddenly started thinking about every guy's dick. What it looks like, how it's shaped, if it's hairy or big or uncut or, fuck, I can't believe I'm saying this, how it tastes. I couldn't get it out of my head. I didn't get anything done and I think I weirded out a few of them," I said.

"Was the shower yesterday the first time you'd ever done stuff with a guy before?" the man I then knew as Jason, asked.

"Yes." I looked down at the carpet. Was I ashamed I did it, or ashamed I waited so long?

"I figured when I saw you drooling over my dick. You knew you wanted it. You just needed a little, call it, 'words of encouragement'," he said.

"I... was thinking--" I started to say.

"I helped you out yesterday," he continued, as if I hadn't spoken, "because I knew if I didn't, you probably wouldn't ever get the courage up. Something made you stare at my cock like it was the last lifeboat on the Titanic. Now that you've had a taste, that part of your brain wants more. There's a piece of you now that thinks every cock is an opportunity," he said.

He took a big sip, and I sat there not knowing what to say. Part of me wanted to stand up, call him an asshole and storm out. And part of me noticed that every time he said the word 'cock', I felt a little tinge of excitement.

"What should I do now?" I asked.

"I'm not your therapist. You didn't come here for cheap beer and to talk about your feelings. Tell me why you came here," he said.

"I... I wanted more... I don't know what to do, but I want to learn. I liked when you bossed me around. I want that, but more," I finished, staring at the floor.

"That's a start," he said. "You seem like a good boy and you're new to this, so I'm going to help you out with a few ground rules. First off, when you come into my apartment, the first thing you'll do is take all your clothes off and leave them by the door. Second, you do not touch yourself unless I tell you to, including when you're not here. I want that pressure to build inside you, and I say when it gets released. Lastly, I'm not asking you to do anything you don't want to do, but since you like being told, it might be hard for me to tell, so if we cross a line just say 'Lincoln' and we'll stop. Understand?"

"Why Lincoln?" I asked.

This man literally just told me I'm not allowed to wear clothes around him or masturbate and the only question I had was about the safe word he chose.

"Famous, tall, slept with a lot of men. Seems to fit," he said with a shrug.

He stared at me for a moment, until I realized he was waiting for me to obey. I put my phone on the table, got up, slipped my shoes off, took my belt off, dropped my pants. I folded them, put them on top of my shoes, and then did the same with my shirt, belt and socks. All this talk about cocks and rules had gotten me hard, and my dick sprang up as my boxers came off. I took a deep breath and turned around, naked, dick standing straight out. I felt really awkward, like I wanted to hide or cover myself.

He stared at me for a moment, and said, "Eager tonight, I see." He continued, "Why don't you come over here and start warming me up."

I hesitated for a moment, suddenly unsure, but incredibly excited.

Fuck it,

I thought, and walked over to where he was seated and lowered myself to my knees. I undid his belt and unzipped his pants. I slid them off, folded them neatly and placed them on the end table. I did the same with his boxers.

"I like that, very respectful. Now, show my cock the same respect," he said.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

I took his soft cock in my hands and slowly stroked it with my right hand and started to massage his balls with my left.

I felt him put his hand under my chin and lift it, so I was looking right at him. "Use that slutty mouth of yours."

I took his still soft manhood into my mouth and I could feel him hardening on my tongue. It turned me on knowing I was making him hard.

As he grew hard, I could feel his cock pressing the back of my throat and I tried to relax and focus on his pleasure. I felt his hand come to rest on the back of my head, and we fell into a rhythm as I began to slide up and down his shaft. He reached full size and his hand started pushing a little harder, making me go a little deeper, bit by bit. I focused really hard on not gagging. I wanted his whole cock inside me. My nose started to hit his trimmed pubic hair and I felt a surge of pride. He slowed my head down a bit and tilted me so I was looking up at him while still sucking.

"Good boy. You want to get that cock nice and wet. That'll make it slide up your ass a little easier," he said.

My head was spinning, I felt a mix of fear, excitement, and disbelief welling up inside me. His cock was huge and I'd never had more than a finger before. At the same time, my own cock was dribbling pre-cum at the thought. I could fit him in my mouth, why not my ass? I started to swirl my tongue around his cock head, making sure it was as wet as I could get it.

He pulled my head off him, his cock staying in place, fully erect, and held onto my hair so I was looking up at him. "I'm going to need to hear you say it."

"I want you to fuck me. I want your cock up my ass. Please."

He stood up, pulling me up with him. I was just shy of a foot taller than him, but I knew I was his bitch this night, maybe forever. He let go of my head and took a firm grasp of my cock. I gasped loudly, just him touching it made me weak in the knees. He gave it a good squeeze and held tightly as he started walking toward his bedroom, pulling me by my erection, as I hurried behind him. He let go of my dick to my great disappointment and pointed at the bed. He reached into his dresser and pulled out a bottle.

"Lie on your back, and pull your knees up to your chest. I want to see your face when I take your ass."

I did as I was told, and he squirted some cold gel onto my exposed asscrack. I saw him rub some more onto his cock with his hand.

My cock was raging hard. Here I was, ass out, lubed up, ready to be fucked. I was drunk with excitement. He rubbed his head up and down my asscrack, working the lube into my hole.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, God yes, please," I replied, hastily.

"Are you sure?" Jason said with a grin on his face, clearly enjoying the state he had me in.

"Fuck me, stick that hard cock up my ass. I need you inside me... Please. Fuck. Me."

He pushed slowly into my asshole. I tried to relax, but it definitely hurt a little at first. I could feel pressure until I felt his head pop in, and the pain subsided a bit. He moved slowly, but steadily, inch by inch, into my ass. I began to let out a long moan.

I would have sworn in court his cock was three feet long. It felt like an hour before his balls touched my ass. He paused for a few seconds, and I caught my breath a little. He pulled my legs so they were resting straight up on his chest. The pain was nearly gone and I felt full, like a piece of a puzzle had slid into place.

"Tell me how it feels," he said.

"Fuuuuuck," was all that came out of my mouth, followed by a low moan.

"That'll do," he said, as he started to slide his cock back almost to the head, before starting a long stroke back in. Then again, just a little less slowly. I looked down to see a drop of pre-cum falling from my dick. I instinctively reached down to stroke myself, and I felt a stinging slap on my hand.

"You're not allowed to touch," he said.

He started to pick up the pace, long, thorough strokes into my ass. I started to relax as he picked up a rhythm. He adjusted his stance, and I felt his cockhead brushing past a spot that sent a shockwave through my entire body.

"Ughhhhh," was all that came out of my mouth.

He hit it again with the next stroke, and then again. I was grunting involuntarily each time.

"That's your P-spot," he said. "That's the reward a good boy like you gets for being my bitch."

I could then feel his balls slapping my ass. My dick was swinging back and forth with each thrust, and I could feel something deep inside me starting to well up.

"Fuck my ass, oh God, fuck me harder, it feels so good. Fuck your little bitch." Words just came pouring out of my mouth. I sounded drunk, even to myself. I knew that little piece inside me had taken over and was in full control.

I sensed he was getting close, I could hear his breathing change and his pace quickened. I was focused on him, but the feeling in my ass and cock were starting their own crescendo. He started ramming his cock into my ass in deliberate thrusts, slamming into my prostate. The sensation went from shocks to a blinding light that spread across my entire body.

I felt my cock start spurting cum up my chest and stomach. My body shook and every muscle tensed up at once. I felt wave after wave sweep over me. My asshole clenched down on his cock, and I felt him start to cum deeply in my ass. He slammed home with each spurt, shooting inside me six or seven times before it subsided. He slowly pulled out of my ass and I could feel cum leaking out of me. The absence of his dick left me feeling empty, but still satisfied.

"Jesus, you got a good ass for fucking. And you look pretty sexy covered in your own cum," he said. He walked out of the room for a minute, and my mind was still slowly coming back to me.

When he walked back in, he was holding my phone. "You can say no, but I really think you need a picture to remember this moment."

I smiled, swirled my finger around the cumshot on my nipple and said, "Yes, sir," as the flash on the phone captured my sluttiness.