Thought for sure I wouldn’t be able to find the place. I forked out the torn piece of notebook paper I wrote his address on, out of one of the pockets of my bag. 296 Crossway Road it read. Lot 3. When he told me he lived in a trailer park directly behind the flea market, I knew exactly where his crib was located. Luckily for him I was familiar with the area. Some poor bastard coming from the north side of town would have gotten lost in these boonies. Told me his place was five trailers down, that I couldn’t miss it because there was a motorcycle in the front yard.

My first attempt was an unsuccessful mess. I turned onto Crossway Court instead of Crossway Road. He never gave me much to go on, never let me in on any gas stations or grocery stores that might be near. The road was jet black. The only lights that lit my way were of the street type, but a lot of good it did. Blind as a fucking bat when it comes to my night vision. Trundled past trailer after trailer with screened in windows where glows of static-like gray beamed out into a sultry, summer night. I moved through mud holes filled with Wednesday’s down pour. There wasn’t a motorcycle to be seen or a lot 3. Figured for sure I wouldn’t find it tonight, that I would end up driving home horny with my dick still on hard. Yet, I was determined. It was the way he described himself that kept me going. That height of six feet, that muscular frame like a football player. He spoke of dark hair that I’m a sucker for, trimmed into a buzz cut, and eyes of brown with Popsicle-red lips he said his wife likes to kiss.

He said we would have to be discreet, that we only have an hour before his wife were to return from whatever job she has to make those ends meet. He just got his son down for tonight and he’s all alone. 9:44. That’s what the clock on the car stereo read. I didn’t have a lot of time. Circled around and studied the mail boxes for 2-9-6, but they all read 427,429. I had gone too far. I was so damned ready for him. All I’ve wanted today was a bj. Someone who can do me until I see stars. Thought of those lips wrapped tough, tight around this dick of mine. Tallahassee doesn't have much in the way of men, so I take what I can get, and if he’s married, so what? A quick fuck and I’m out the door. Straight guys are cleaner anyways. That’s the advantage of living in a small town. You don’t have to worry so much about diseases, not like in big cities. You can’t afford to be picky in an All America town like Tally.

Finally came upon 296 and pull onto a dirt road lined with trailers that were much nicer. Each one cleaner than the last I passed. He didn’t tell me if his place was on the right or left side, so I just looked for that motorcycle. And there it was just like he said five trailers down with that hog parked in front. The light from his porch showcased its leather and mud-spattered chrome. I parked a ways off from things just in case. Waited a bit. There was a car coming up a few feet behind me. Figured if it was his old lady, I could make a getaway and she wouldn’t be none the wiser.

Kurt Cobain was cut short as I killed the engine. He stood in the door of his trailer. As I approached, I asked him his name just to make sure I had the right place. Drew closer and could see him a little bit better. He wasn’t lying about himself. A football player build indeed. We whispered ‘cause his son was sound asleep in the next room. The joint had that lived in smell, that human aroma of cooked food and laundered clothes. Lost track of time. I didn’t bother to look for a clock. There were toddler age toys strewn about and furniture made of wicker. The kitchen and dining area was to the left of me with a sink full of dirty dishes. King Kong was playing on the 15” TV. I missed that movie. Heard it was three hours long is why. I sat next to him on the flower-printed sofa.

“What time does she get home?” I asked.

“10:30, quarter till eleven.”

He was wearing too much clothing for a body like his. All that cotton covering all those muscles. I hoped he liked me, hoped he wasn’t too disappointed. My workout schedule was going south fast and with this paunch of mine, I needed to get back on track or on a treadmill. Lied about my weight, but what was he going to do, throw me out? Not if he wanted me as badly as he explained in his e-mail. He looked like a biker with a thick, brunette beard around his mouth, which accentuated those red lips of his nicely. Looked like something straight out of Road House. The type of fucker you didn’t want to tangle with on the worst night. I felt like such the Nelly twink sitting next to his statuesque brawn. Wasted no time unzipping the copper, and fishing my dick out of underwear. It had been hard since the wrong turn at Crossway Court.

His place was calm and cool, but I was on fire. My dick was thick, cut and sweaty from being held in jeans all throughout this hot, June day. He told me how nice my dick was. I pulled the rest of me out of cotton, through a teeth of copper. Wanted him to see all of me, wanted him to know that this was something I wasn’t lying about.

“Hold on, let me cover the door,” he said. He took a beach towel and laid it over the top, covering the octagon shaped stain glass. Noticed a motorcycle helmet resting on the desk next to the infamous computer that had launched countless e-mails to me.

“Do you ride?”

“Yeah, but mostly on the weekends,” he replied.

He took his rightful place between my knees. He felt hard and relentless between me. He wasted no time as he started to tongue the thick head of my dick. Surprisingly, he didn’t give teeth. Most married guys can’t suck dick for shit, but this one was a pro, like I wasn’t the only one he’s had these lips around. I glanced from his bobbing head to the movie before us. The way he went at me was ravenous. Asked him how long it’s been.

“A long time,” he replied. He was probably lying. And if it was true, what a damn shame it was that he allowed himself to go so long without. ‘Specially with a power house bod like his. He pulled and grabbed at my jeans, ripping the plaid fabric of my boxers. Didn’t seem like he was the least bit sorry for it either. I didn’t care. They were coming apart anyhow. Pubic hair sprouted fourth. Dick was securely in his mouth now. Reached beneath his chin and took out my balls in case he had a hankering for sucking on those too. Demanded that he suck me hard.

“Deep throat me,” I said.

And damn, did he ever. Every thick inch of me disappeared into his mouth. I pivoted my hips in. He gagged a bit, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Acute slurps reverberated through the trailer, but not enough to awaken his kid out of his slumber.

“Wrap your lips tighter around it,” I said. He took it at the base, razing the skin, leaving my dick head to exposure. You would think he wasn’t married the way he gave my dick the royal treatment. Looked into his trailer trash eyes as he delved into mine while he suckled the head of my cock. There was no need for lotions and oils from sex shops. He supplied plenty of spit to keep things hard and lubricated. Could have sworn he let out a burp as he devoured me. He didn’t know this, I didn’t mention it in our correspondence, but it takes me forever to come. It was too bad, because we don’t have that long. His wife was sure to be home any minute. He made it clear to me hours before that he wanted to get fucked. Wasn’t really in the mood, but with a butt like his, I was up for the challenge. He wanted me to fuck him while his sweet son slept soundly in the next room. Didn’t want to think of the scenarios: his boy suddenly waking up to find a strange man hurting his daddy, his wife walking in on us despite the over-sized beach towel over the door. He asked me if I was close. I lied and told him yes. He sucked me faster based on my lie.

“I want to fuck you,” I mentioned.

He asked if I brought protection like I promised. They’re only fifty cents a piece at X-mart. I bought four. He finally undressed. Tugs off that shirt, pulled those shorts off. His ass was every punk’s dream, every golden, air-brushed ass I’ve seen in magazines. Moderate waves of silk, brunette fur was across his booty. He straddled the arm of that flowered sofa. A leg hiked into the cushions, the other planted firmly on the floor. I yanked down my clothes over my own bare, black ass, around my thighs. Dick was still soaked from his talented mouth. Sticks straight out. Fished the condom wrapped in cellophane, out of the pocket of my jeans. I tore along the perforated line that read pull here. I ran my finger between the cheeks of his ass, and he was wet with sweat, ready for anything. I rolled the rubber on my dick tight, saving that space at the tip for cum. He looked straight ahead, favoring a race horse. I held his hips. Naomi Watts screamed as I slowly worked me in slow. At least I thought I was in. He reached around, took my dick and glided me at his asshole. I tried it again and knew I was in for his insides were hot on my dick. Asked him if he was OK, but he was without words. I fucked him slow and deep. His biker butt swallowed my dick whole. Gave him what he doesn’t get in this house. Couldn’t believe I was fucking a father, screwing the husband of a clueless wife. He didn’t want it like love, but hard and careless like lust.

“Fuck me,” he chanted.“Fuck me like I fuck my wife.”

Jeans fell to my knees, and then my ankles. Thrust myself harder into him until the backs of my legs were on fire. My heart pumped just as hot. I latched onto his shoulders for leverage, clawing at flesh paler than any moon. Hiked my leg over his leg as I gave him the best fuck on Crossway Road. I had to if I wanted him to summon me back for an encore performance. Did him the honors of giving him a reach around. It was the least I could do with the way he threw those lips proper to my dick. Slid a finger tip across the piss slit that was a syrupy delight as I smeared him in his own juices. Jacked him gently to make sure he wouldn’t chafe. His ass was such to my liking that if his wife were to walk in; I most likely would not stop, but give her a devil-eyed look as I fuck her husband. He informed me breathlessly that he was about to come and yet, so was I. With a few more jerks of his cock, I could feel hot, white fire on my fingers. I bathed him in thicker cum as I steadily fucked him like he was the last biker dude on the planet. Pearls of sweat trickled down my back’s spine into the trench of my ass. The perspiration fogged my glasses. The sweat felt like knives in my eyes, but I kept at him drawing near to coming.

“Not so loud,” he said.

I almost forgot that there was a child in the house. I clawed at his back. He bruised easily. How he would explain such abuse to his wife wasn’t my problem. I shut my eyes tight to keep the sweat out, to stop from getting loud. Bared myself deep into muscle and tanned flesh as I came up his ass into the rubber. My legs shook, but I held on like a trooper. I wanted us to come together, but it’s funny how it never turns out that way. I collapsed across his back. The sweat we made worked damn near like glue holding us together.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“It’s gotta be almost eleven. You better get dressed.”

Our talks were small as we pulled on shirts, stepped into shorts and denim. The two of us stood at the beach towel covered door. Asked if he wanted me to call him to find out when’s a good time.

“Or you could e-mail me,” he said.

He shut the door in my face of cold sweat before I could wish him a good night. The next day in an e-mail, he told me his wife was switching to the day shift, and he would have to figure out a way for us to get together.

 

© 2006 Shane Allison - Contributor's Bio