He jawned.
“I got blowed. Not expertly, but it was ok. And a bit of a turn on with him in his army uniform and all.”
He went quiet. I stayed quiet, out of fear of revealing my quivering voice. Hell, I had no idea what it would sound like by now. My dick was raging hard, and I was just hoping it wasn’t too visible to Marco. Hopefully, my dark trousers and seat belt concealed it together with my jacket. I was hoping he would change the subject, but he kept on.
“I wasn’t actually aware I had a MD before I was about 16. The dad of my best friend showed me. Being young and all, I didn’t last long. But again, being young and all, I was ready again in no time at all.”
He laughed at this, as though a joke I was able to identify with.
“Man, he was crying like a baby afterwards. Kept saying he was sorry, he didn’t mean to and all. I had no idea what he was on about. I had just blown down his throat, and was happy as shit.”
Ok. I did definitely not want the rest of this story. By now, I was having a hard time concentrating on the traffic.
“He was still crying half an hour later, but more from happiness, I guess, as I was fucking his ass. That was some sight, looking down at my dick ramming in and out of his muscled, white, ass. I would never have believed it, not even the same morning. His trousers around his feet, humping against my thrusts. Man, it was hot. And his wife and son upstairs, knowing nothing!”
Marco laughed again. So self-assure. Sharing
this moment as it was… any moment. Neither of usa sid anything for a moment. Me least of all. I was totally bewildered that his bragging was turning me on. Why the hell was my cock bobbing up and down, longing for being set free? Why was I even considering what it might feel like to hold his dick? I was sure it was thick and warm…pulsating. Getting ready. Fuck. I was losing it.
Finally he spoke.
“So how about you? You ready for the MD?”
I almost coughed.
“Ex-cuse me?” I said in what I hoped would seem as a genuinely surprised tone. I hated to admit it, but it was just what I had been thinking. He snorted, and turned his head towards me.
“Come on. You’re curious about this cock of mine. What is it about it that makes straight guys go down on it? Admit it.”
He rubbed my thigh. I was so hard I almost came there and then. But no way this young guy was making me touch his cock. No way. I swallowed hard.
“Er, thanks for the offer, Marco, but I’m not that kind of guy.”
I could hear it myself. I did not sound convincing. Not one bit. Oh my God, how many times had he heard guys like me say these words? He sighed.
“Always the denial. You want to look at it? Or are you afraid looking might turn you into a faggot?”
“Why would I be afraid of that?”
I almost shouted. Why did I shout?
“I have seen a lot of cocks in my life, and they have never turned me on.”
“Well, you never saw this one. I think you are frightened over what seeing it might to do you.”
“As what?” I said bravely.
“Make you crave something you thought you could do without. Turn you around. Make you realize giving a real man is something you want to do, and still love your woman. Make you crave cock as much as you lust for cunt, and feeling even happier.”
“That is ridiculous.”
I meant it. I really did. It sounded ridiculous that the mere sight of another cock should have any effect on me. But the stories he had been telling… they did something to me. Then things happened without me noticing how and when. My hand was on his crotch. I looked twice. Was it really mine? What was it doing there? It was opening his fly, his belt, pulling down his briefs.
And all the time, I was still driving the car. But now I was pulling over. Why was I pulling over? My face was suddenly in his lap. I was frantically freeing myself from the seat belt, and pulling out his cock. Heavy and warm. God, it was large and hard. As my own, only this wasn’t my own. I looked at it, almost mesmerized. One hand was carressing his balls, the other stroking his cock.
Slowly, as if I was afraid the moment might pass if I was too eager. I looked up at his eyes. They were twinkling, as if saying “I knew you would”. My mind was full of images of Marco fucking men. Fucking his best friend’s father. His big, dark, cock, pumping in and out, with the older man cying in pain and shame and desire. Having the officer suck him while his wife was in the back seat, knowing nothing. And new images started coming, things Marco hadn’t told me. A sailor being manhandled over a ship’s railing, his white uniform trousers laying around his feet, his stiff cock dancing in midair as his ass was being given a royal fuck.
Then I saw a pale skinned youth looking at him, begging, to please let him suck him, that he had sent his girlfriend off, and was his for the entire night. Where were this images coming from? It struck me that the men all had a paler complexion than he did. Was he getting off, seeing those white males on their knees, getting their mouths and asses stuffed? Were they really, or was that my imagination making it up? And then he was in my mouth. He filled my mouth, and I had to work hard to get in all I could.
Because I wanted it all. I gagged. He rock hard, stiff, manmeat was filling it, denying me oxygen. But I didn’t care. I was sucking him like there was no tomorrow. It got black around me, there was nothing else here but Marco, his cock, and me. I could no longer care for my hotel and appointments and my plan of finding a girl to fuck. I wanted this cock. I wanted to see it come. And after that I had no idea what I wanted. Only that I knew something had happened, and that the rest of my trip in Europe would not be as I had intended.
Sequel to follow…