A gay story: H Is For Hung Inspired by Sue Grafton’s alphabetical series.
The movie Cruising did it for me.
I watched every frame of that movie salivating and stroking my meat, watching Al Pacino in leather or with a bandanna hanging out of the back pocket of his jeans. I fell in love with the dark side, thenasty side of being a homosexual. I wanted the sweaty, faceless, nameless sex. I wanted the cock shoved into my dry asshole. I wanted the spit on my palm as I stroked myself. I wanted it all.
As soon as I graduated from college, I said goodbye to my Midwestern birthplace and hitchhiked to New York. Within two days, I had found an apartment, an expensive basement floor hole in the wall and got a job waiting tables in Manhattan. I was lucky and I knew it. I worked my ass off every night and always came home with a pocket full of cash. After a week, I decided to head out and conquer the scene.
There were several clubs to choose from. Most of the clubs catered to gays, bis and straights, in an effort to grab those dollars. I wasn’t interested in that. I wanted agay club. A club where no woman could enter. I wanted to walk in and smell sperm and see couples pumping in the dark corners. I wanted sticky floors and locked stalls. I wanted my version of a gay sex addict’s Shangri-la.
It took me five weeks to find the club, located in Manhattan and accessed from an alley door, lit by a single naked bulb. I knocked. The door opened into darkness and I stepped in.
“ID.” A voice barked the question, a light shining in my face.
“I don’t have one.”
“Then get the fuck out of here.”
“Wait!” I begged. “Please. Tell me how to get one.”
“Suck my dick and maybe I’ll tell you.” I heard a zipper and another flashlight illuminated the flesh that I was to suck. I bent down, took the tool into my mouth and began to eagerly suck. I knew that I was good at sucking cock but it wasn’t good enough for this guy. He pushed me away after a few minutes. “You suck like a girl.” The snickers of others floated in the darkness. “Get the fuck out of here.”
I turned around and dropped my jeans, bending down and grasping my ankles. Complete silence permeated the entryway. I stood there for what seemed like hours before a gob of spit landed on my hole and someone pushed a fat-headed dick into me, hard and fast. Tears pricked my eyes from the pain but I held onto my ankles, moving only to compensate for balance. The man rammed his meat into my tender hole, scraping my prostate and driving me crazy. I grunted with every stroke and yelled ‘Fuck!’ when I came. I felt the guy’s cum spurt into my ass and I tightened my muscles, trying to hold him in. He finally pulled out with apop and gave me a slap.
I pulled up my pants and whirled around to face the darkness. “Tell me how to get a card.”
A hand came out of the darkness with a piece of paper, a few lines scribbled on it. “Don’t come back here until you have one.”
I shoved the paper into my pocket and didn’t read it until I was home, soaking my sore asshole in a tub of hot water. It was a phone number. When I called, I got a recording. It said to go to Dr. Bishop for sexual disease testing and gave the address. My results would be mailed to headquarters and if I passed the additional background check, I would receive a card in the mail.
I went to the address and submitted my body to the doctor’s poking and prodding. He took saliva, urine, blood and stool samples and gave me a thorough checkup. The cost was $2,000 dollars. I had already been informed of the price from the phone recording and forked it over to the smiling doctor. He wished me ‘good luck’ and sent me on my way, tucking my hard-earned money in his pocket.
Three long weeks passed with no card. Then, tucked in behind the electric bill was a stamp less envelope, my name written in block letters across the front. My card had come. It was plain white with a silver star on one side and a brown stripe on the other. I jumped for joy. I was in.
I didn’t go that night. I decided to get plenty of rest so that I could enjoy whatever festivities I’d encounter. I loaded my pockets with condoms and a tube of lube and went to sleep, dreaming of hard, hot fucking. The next night, I went to work, floating on a cloud. I ran home, showered, lubed my asshole, then dressed in tight jeans and a white T-shirt. This time when I knocked, I entered and showed my card.
“Congratulations, sweet stuff. You may enter.”
Someone led me forward and a black drape opened in front of me, revealing the club’s inner world. The inside was fashioned like a bar. A dance floor held couples but the music wasn’t loud and overpowering; it was quiet and unobtrusive. What drew my attention were the short Doric columns, each in a spotlight, each with a mouthwatering hunk of flesh lounging atop. Each man was more gorgeous than the next and all colors of the rainbow were represented. Alabaster white, deep olive, creamy brown and dark chocolate skin stretched over perfect muscular frames.
When I saw him, I knew that he was the one for me. He was my Mandingo, broad, bulky and with a cock the size of my forearm. His bittersweet chocolate skin glistened with a light coating of oil and he watched me approach with a small smile on his heavenly features.
“Hello.”
“Good evening.” He answered, sitting up and sliding his hand over his semi-hard cock. I licked my lips.
“I want you. What do I do?”
Black Adonis laughed, still stroking his magnificent meat. “This isn’t for you, little man. I’d split you in two.”
“So split me.”
Our eyes met and held. “You should try Rafael. He’s more proportionate to your size.”
“So you’re saying that just because I’m not a big, muscle-bound oaf, I can’t handle you?”
His eyes swept over me. Now I’m by no means a string bean. I’m a solid 220 packed onto six feet of man but he was easily 275 and maybe six foot seven height. His smile was easy. “I’m not saying that.”
“Then what are you saying? Scared of me, big boy? Scared you might like this little piece of ass?”
He laughed again.’ “Do I look like I’m scared?”
“No.” I said. “You look like the most glorious piece of chocolate I’ve ever seen and I want you to split me in two.”
He just stared at me for a long moment. “Number four.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant but I was determined not to ask any questions and look like the first-timer I was. I turned my back on him and headed for the bar, ordering a double Canadian Club and ginger ale. The bartender asked for my card and I handed it over, watching him run it through a card reader. He gave me a small nod and gestured toward a wide purple drape. I downed half the drink before I headed behind the drape and entered a long hallway.
There were six doors on each side, each with a large black number. I found four and was surprised to find that there was no handle, just a slot. I slipped my card in and the latch popped, releasing the door. I stepped inside.
He was lying on the bed, pillows plumped behind his head, his proud cock pointing straight at the ceiling. He gave it a lazy stroke and graced me with a lazier smile. “Welcome.”
I undressed, leaving my clothes on the chair, gazing at his cut body. “Hello again.”
“My, my! Aren’t we the frisky one tonight?”
He laughed as I climbed onto the bed, as naked as he was. “I’ve been waiting for a long time for this.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Now are we gonna make small talk or are you gonna fuck me?”
His dark eyes narrowed. “You’re that anxious to feel this log split you in two?”
“Yeah.” I pulled out the tube of lube and worked a gob into my hole, tossing a condom to him. “Let’s do it.”
He threw the condom over his shoulder. “We won’t need that. It’s why everyone is regularly tested.”
“Good. The more skin, the better.” I bent over, holding onto the headboard and presenting my ass to him. “Do me.”
He wasted no time. It felt like an elbow was pressing into my ass and he pushed in with a flick of his hips. I screamed. His monstrous cock was ripping and stretching my insides so much that I thought I was going to pass out. He laughed but I pushed back into him, letting him know that he hadn’t bested me. I took all of his prick, an inch at a time, until he was completely inside me. I groaned.
“I’m very impressed, little man. Not too many have been able to take my cock.” I couldn’t reply. I was doing my best not to sob with pain. I flexed my asshole, drawing a hiss from him. “Ready to play?” He didn’t wait for my nod. He pulled out and plunged back in, violently, a smile on his face as he began his assault on my ass. Pleasure and pain streaked up my spine, my prostate singing as he scraped it with each stroke.
“Oh, yeah.” I muttered. “Fuck me. Fuck me, you bitch!” He slammed into me in response to my words and my rigid cock leaped. “I said, fuck me!” Our bodies slapped together again and again, his hands tightly gripping my hips, guiding his thick meat into me.
“Feel me inside you?” He whispered in my ear. “Feel my hard dick fucking you?”
“Yes.” I sighed. “Fuck me harder!”
“Harder?”
“Yes!”
His fingers dug into my skin, pulling me against him faster and faster. He was pounding me so hard that I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. I was floating, my entire body on fire with pain but infused with a pleasure so great that I was trembling uncontrollably. I felt the cum boiling in my balls, readying a trip through my stalk and my skin tingled in anticipation.
“Oh, yeah, pretty baby.” He grunted in my ear. “You’re gonna get a buttful in a minute.” I felt his cock enlarge as he pumped harder.
“Yeah!” I shouted. “FUCK ME!”
Hot jizz lava poured from his mighty cock, quickly filling me and sliding down the insides of my thighs. I screamed as I came, too, my cock jumping as my cum splattered on the headboard and pillow. He gave a few more pumps and pulled me backwards on top of him, his meat still buried inside. I saw blood on the sheets and knew that it was from me, but I didn’t care. I’d cum so hard that my toes were tingling.
After a moment, he pulled out and tossed a washcloth to me to clean up with. I threw it on the floor, next to the condom. “Don’t need it.”
“Why not?”
“I’m taking your cum home with me.”
He laughed, cleaning himself. “You’ll never make it home. In fact, you won’t even make it to the door. I stretched you too much, little man.”
“Wanna bet?” I carefully pulled my underwear and jeans on. “If I make it to the door, you owe me a free session.”
“And if not?”
“I owe you a free session.”
He grinned. “You’re on.”
Needless to say, I have a free session coming to me. Maybe I’ll go back tomorrow…