Mr. Right Now Read online

  The fingers pulled out, leaving me feeling empty. I could feel his dick, rubbing up and down in my crack, teasing my hole. “You’d better be wearing a fucking condom, or I swear, I’ll rip your fucking cock off,” I threatened. “Spoken like a top,” he said, sounding amused. He grabbed my hand, moving it back so I could feel the latex covering his awesomely tumescent rod.

  “Remember that,” I warned, and lost the ability to speak further when I felt the blunt heat of his cockhead nudging at my hole. I whimpered and wriggled, hoping I’d be able to take all of him. He felt huge in my hand and my memory of how big he looked scared me a little. I reached back and spread my cheeks apart, giving him a target he couldn’t miss.

  I tried to relax my muscles, but even so, it fucking hurt when he pushed inside my ring. I was gasping and thrashing, but I wanted it so fucking bad. His hands tightened on my hips, preventing me from hurling myself backward in an attempt to swallow him whole.

  “Take it easy there, boy, I’ll give it all to you but I’m doing this my way,” he said. It gave me the shivers to hear the dominant note in his voice and double for him calling me boy. I didn’t get into this kind of game too often, but his cock was too awesome to pass up. I was so frigging horny by now, I was desperate for him to start fucking me properly.

  “Yes. sir,” I said meekly enough. It’s not like I could move, he had a grip of iron. I knew I’d be looking at ten bruises on my hips later on.

  He seemed to like it that I called him sir. My channel was burning and so far he only had the head in. He smacked my ass, which took my mind off the rock hard pole pressing inside me. “You like being my bitch, don’t you, boy?” he asked, still in that teasing voice that showed he wasn’t taking this too seriously.

  “Shove it in. Fuck me,” I ordered, rather peremptorily for a man gasping for breath with a red hot poker shoved up his ass. “Take it like a fucking man,” he said, but despite his rough words, he worked his cock inside me gently, inch by inch. And let me tell you, every inch made me quiver with joy, especially when he rubbed over my sweet spot. Some guys are just long enough to hit it, some guys are thin enough that they have to angle to rub over it, but this guy, man, he was so long and hard, every move sent tingles through my ass. I’d never felt anything like it.

  The burn melted into absolute pleasure. I couldn’t remember when I’d felt so full and he knew how to fuck. Every sensation of his balls smacking against mine as he slammed into me, the way my hole clung to his cock when he pulled out, the dirty words he kept whispering in my ear, the sound of his panting, it was hot as hell.

  I almost came a couple of times, and he seemed determined to fuck the cum out of me, but I tightened up to prevent it. Sometimes that feeling right before you come is almost better than an actual orgasm. The anticipation is so fucking hot.

  I could tell he was close when he started to lose his rhythm, his thrusts shortened up and he was jabbing me as he huffed and puffed away. I could feel drops of his sweat fall on my back and run down my spine.

  Finally, I felt his teeth sink into the side of my neck, like he was holding me still. His chest was sliding over my back and he thrust hard inside me. Even through the condom, I could feel the hot spurt of his cum before he collapsed over me, breathing hard.

  I could feel him shrink up within me. Even that I find erotic, to know that I made a guy so horny he emptied his load into my body. And besides, I’m fascinated by dick, in all its stages. He slipped out of me wetly and I pushed at him.

  Sighing, he stood upright. He had that dazed, freshly fucked look that I really like to see on a man’s face. I grinned as his gaze dropped to my dick. I’m not too badly equipped in that department myself and I liked the look of awe.

  “Oh fuck,” he said softly, as if he knew he was in trouble now. “My idea exactly,” I said with an evil grin. I swiveled my hips, watching my erection sway from side to side in front of me. It was sticking straight up and dripping with precum. “Bend over. My turn.”

  He actually whimpered when I bent him over the table. He’d fucked me so hard the table had moved, but like I said, at least it didn’t have wheels, or we might have sailed out the door and into the gym, giving everyone an eyeful. Not like that wouldn’t be hot, I’d love to have the patrons watch me fuck this guy.

  He grunted as my slick fingers found his hole. I wasn’t rough, but I didn’t start out with one finger either. I figured this guy wanted to be fucked and I wanted him to feel me afterwards, so I slid two fingers inside him.

  The rim of his ass gripped my fingers eagerly as I twisted them inside him. He felt so smooth, like satin, and blazing hot inside.

  “Who’s the bitch now, bitch?” I asked triumphantly as his knuckles whitened while he gripped the table.

  “I’m the bitch, sir,” he said, playing along just as well as I had moments earlier. “Remember that,” I instructed. I pulled my fingers out to unwrap a condom and cover my dick. When I was gloved up, I spread his cheeks again, looking at that dragon’s tail wrapped around his opening. His frantic clenching was making the tail wiggle enticingly, calling me to him.

  I aimed my cock at his hole and pushed a little. He pushed back and the head popped in. He froze, gripping the table and I waited till he loosened up a little around me. “Okay?”

  “Yeah, fuck me,” he grunted. That was all the reassurance I needed. I fed my cock into his hungry hole in one long thrust, knowing it would burn. He gasped and I spanked his ass, to pay him back for the slaps he’d given to me. His skin turned a pleasing shade of pink as I alternated between both cheeks.

  His channel was clenching around me with each smack. I quit, because I didn’t know how much more I could take before I came, and I didn’t want him to just milk me, I wanted to give him a ride.

  I pulled out all the way, watching his hole flex hungrily, before I plunged back into the depths.

  “Holy fuck, do that again!” he begged. I pulled out and breached him again and again. Every time I entered him, he gasped and lunged back at me, until I was buried to the root inside him. The pressure coiled in my belly, reaching for my balls. They were full and tight, and that little tickle started at the base of my cock.

  “Give it to me,” he pleaded. “Hard and fast…”

  Okay, I can do that.

  I grabbed his hips, determined to leave the same finger marks on him, pleased to think about his wife seeing them and asking about them. And then I wasn’t thinking at all, just thrusting hard into him, looking down at the awesome muscles of his back jumping and trembling as I pounded him.

  Each time I thrust into him, the table scooted with the power of my lunge, and his ass jiggled, making the dragon jump for joy. The sight mesmerized me; I stared down at him, my gaze flicking from his back muscles to his ass, until my climax hit me.

  I came so hard my vision went black. The smooth, soft inner sanctum of him seemed to suck my pleasure from me. I wished I could prolong the intensity of that orgasm. Ecstasy cascaded throughout my body, as if all the pleasure of him fucking me was stored up and lying in wait for me. I thrust until I couldn’t move any more, stretching up onto my tiptoes as I rammed inside him one last time, planting my seed as deep as I could, in the condom.

  Gradually I remembered how to breathe again.

  “Holy fuck,” he commented faintly.

  “Yeah.” I grinned, even though he couldn’t see me. I didn’t want to pull out of that tight, warm place, so I bent over and kissed the back of his neck, lipping at the skin.

  “You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had,” he said.

  “You’re not so bad yourself, big boy,” I said almost flirtatiously. “I’d say we do this again sometime, but…” “No strings,” he supplied. “Better not.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. I didn’t want a relationship and a married dude? No way. No matter how muscular or hot. I slapped his ass one last time and pulled out. He sighed and stayed bent over for a moment, flexing his hole before he stood up. “Sorry, I know I wasn’t sup
posed to fuck you, but licking your ass was so hot,” he apologized.

  I shrugged. “It was great. Don’t worry about it.” He went shakily to another door and opened it to reveal a small bathroom, complete with shower. “You can clean up in there if you want.”

  Grabbing onto this one last opportunity, I dragged him into the shower with me, so I could explore that awesome powerful body with soapy hands. We were both too spent to get it up again, but it was very pleasurable to slide against his muscular chest. I circled him to get one last glimpse of that dragon disappearing between his cheeks, following the tail with a finger just to hear him moan. I cupped his buttocks in my hands, squeezing the swell of the globes, thinking about how he gave dangerous when wet a whole new meaning.

  We made the shower quick, and I was back at work in time for my boring afternoon meeting, although I knew I wouldn’t hear a word. I’d be thinking about that flying dragon, guarding Steve’s hole, knowing I was one of the few who made it past the portal.

  I needed to go to the men’s room before my meeting. My lunch date had been so hot, I was hard again just reliving the whole hot scene. This was going to fuel a few jackoff sessions to come. If I was going to make it through my dull meeting, I had to rub one out first. I know, I know, I came when I fucked him, and now again.

  I fingered my used hole as I jacked off, relishing the lingering soreness. His cock had been huge and I could still feel it jammed up inside me, but it had been one great fuck. One for the books, if I were keeping score.

  Don’t worry about my date, though, I had enough left to take care of him too.

  But one thing was for damn sure; tonight I was the one who was going to be doing all the fucking.

  Catt Ford

  Catt Ford lives in front of the computer monitor, in another world where her imaginary gay friends obey her every command. She likes cats, chocolate, swing dancing, sleeping, Monty Python, Aussie friends, being silly, spinning other realities with words, and sea glass.

  She dislikes caterpillars, cigarette smoke and rude people who think the F-word (as in faggot, or bundle of sticks) is acceptable. A frustrated perfectionist, she comforts herself with the legend about the weavers of Persian rugs always including one mistake so as not to anger the gods, although she has no need to include a mistake on purpose. One always slips through. Writing fiction has filled a need for clever conversations, only possible when one is in control of both sides, and erotic romances, where everything turns out happily ever after, for the most part.

  Visit Catt’s Blog at http://catlover2x.livejournal.com/

  The Proposition

  By Rhianne Aile and Madeleine Urban

  EYES dark and shimmering in the low light of the bar, Marcus watched the slim younger man at the bar, drinking with two others, likely friends out on a pull. The older man had seen him there before, several times, and Marcus had studied him at length before making his decision. So tonight, he waited patiently for the other two men to leave the bar so he could approach the object of his thoughts.

  Gerard drained the last of his drink before following Benjamin and Denny toward the door to head home for the night. The bar had been absolutely dead tonight. About an hour ago, Ben, rebuffed by yet another potential conquest, had turned his charm on Denny. Denny hadn’t stood a chance against Ben’s baby blues. Telling them to take the car, Gerard planned on grabbing a cab. He hadn’t been laid in a month and watching the two of them all over each other all the way home wouldn’t have done a thing for his libido.

  Watching his target finish his drink and head his way, Marcus decided to speak up now since he didn’t seem to be leaving paired with anyone. “Leaving early tonight?” Marcus commented from his lazy sprawl in the leather armchair, a cigarette between his fingers, just as the other man passed by.

  Gerard jumped slightly at the husky voice. Turning, his eyes hit black leather boots, traveling up long legs encased in black denim. Slender fingers surrounded a glass of amber liquid, balanced enticingly next to an impressive ridge. The soft cotton of a well-worn T-shirt stretched over a broad chest that was framed by a dark jacket. When his eyes finally reached a face, the man was smirking at him, green eyes glowing smugly. They both knew that Gerard had been surveying his body, and the man obviously was confident that he wouldn’t be found lacking. Gerard smiled, tilting his head provocatively. “Didn’t find anything to hold my attention,” he parried.

  The corner of Marcus’s mouth lifted in amusement, and he lifted his glass as if to say touché. “Guess you hadn’t seen me then?” he drawled, confident. “Let me buy you a drink,” he said in a charming, warm voice. He enjoyed looking over the other man’s body now, dressed in tight blue jeans and a loose shirt, artfully half unbuttoned and sleeves turned up. Lovely.

  “You aren’t easy to spot, skulking in the shadows. Should I be worried that you waited for my friends to leave before saying anything to me? It makes me think you have less than honorable intentions.” The tilted smile added a playful tone to Gerard’s words.

  Marcus’s smile grew larger as he caught the teasing hint in the man’s voice. “Had to make sure you wouldn’t be attached to one of them by the hip, didn’t I?” he said logically, flagging down the waitress. “Sit and have a drink with me,” he said again, persuasively.

  Gerard shrugged, spinning his leather jacket off his shoulder and onto the back of the nearest chair. He lowered himself to the seat, consciously mirroring the older man’s pose. “I’m guessing by now they are attached in another location.” Turning to Brittany as she approached with an empty tray and her usual flirtatious attitude, he smiled brilliantly. “My usual, darlin’.”

  “On my tab,” Marcus added, and the waitress nodded, heading off to the bar. “Why either of them would choose someone other than you is beyond me,” he said right away, stating his opinion of the man now facing him.

  Gerard laughed. “I wouldn’t sleep with either one of them, the dogs. I’m a little more discriminating in my taste of bed partners. Thank you for the drink. My name is Gerard, by the way.” He would have extended his hand as courtesy required, but he was hesitant to touch the dynamic blond just yet. The man did strange things to his equilibrium, and he suspected that physical contact would make it worse.

  Nodding in acknowledgement, Marcus lifted his drink. “M’name is Marcus, Marcus Steele. And I have a proposition for you,” he said, eyes glittering in the smoky light as he looked over the younger man.

  Gerard raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Oh?” Marcus’s smile tipped up a bit further, and he waited as Brittany approached with their drinks. After she left, he exchanged his glass of ice for the fresh drink, leaning back in his chair. “I want you to come home with me for the weekend. I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Gerard weighed the words, not quite liking the feel of them. He sat his drink untouched on the small round table and started to stand. “I think maybe you’ve made a mistake. I’m not a professional.” God, this night had gone from bad to worse… nothing like getting your hopes up before really being slapped in the face.

  “I don’t believe anything of the kind. And I’m not talking about money, Gerard. Please, hear me out,” Marcus said quietly, leaning forward just a bit, not wanting to appear at all threatening.

  Hesitating, Gerard dropped back to the chair, perching on the edge, back straight. Something in Marcus’s eyes came across as sincere or he’d have been out the door, but he was only willing to bend so far. “You are on borrowed time.”

  Marcus nodded his understanding. “For reasons I won’t go into, I am throwing a large weekend party for a group of out-oftown business guests. It is expected that I have a companion at this party, and I’d like you to stand in. No strings, no expectations, and you can name whatever you would desire in recompense for your time.”

  Gerard thought about the offer silently for several breaths. He had nothing better to do at the moment. He had just finished a fairly successful showing of his sculpture, and his agent wasn�
�t pressuring him for more work as he completed a large series of sales. “Would I have to lie, pose as your long-term lover, or could I be myself?”

  “I want you to be yourself. Young, refreshing and full of life,” Marcus insisted. “They won’t be able to resist your charm.” “That’s quite a character assessment for someone you’ve known all of fifteen minutes. I’m not sure why, but I’m tempted to trust you. I’ll put it to the light-of-day test, and if you pass, the answer is yes. Do I have to tell you what I want up front or can I think about it?”

  Marcus relaxed slightly, setting his drink on the table. “Feel free to take all the time you want. To decide what you want, I mean.” He slid his hand in his pocket and pulled out an embossed business card. “Take this. When you make up your mind tomorrow, give me a ring.”

  “I’ll save the quarters. Meet me for breakfast at nine. You know the deli on Third and Amsterdam?” Gerard waited for Marcus’s affirmative nod. “If you look as good over a cup of coffee as you do over a glass of scotch, you’ve got a deal.” Standing, he shrugged into his jacket, the leather falling perfectly over his shoulders. Reaching down, he dragged his thumb over Marcus’s bottom lip. “Night, lover.”

  Gerard didn’t look back, though he could feel Marcus’s green eyes following him every step to the door. The night wasn’t ending quite as well as he had hoped when the older man had called out to him, but it was considerably better than the way it had been shaping up. He was still faced with an empty flat, an empty bed and his hand, but at least now he had a face for his fantasies.

  GERARD strode into the deli dressed casually in jeans faded pale white at the knees and across his thighs and ass. A white T-shirt stretched enticingly over his muscular chest under the familiar leather jacket. A matching leather bag was slung over one shoulder. “You’re early,” he greeted, dumping the bag on the chair opposite Marcus and taking the seat to his right. He waved at the young waitress behind the counter, letting her know with a smile and a nod that he’d have his usual.

  With a tilt of his head, Marcus offered a quiet greeting before sipping his espresso. “I’ve been up and going for a few hours now,” he said, leaning back comfortably in the chair, studying the younger man who was, impossibly, more appealing now than he had been last night. “So,” he said, a grin creasing his face, “Am I an ogre by the light of day?”