“I love that you’re brazen enough to fuck in public. I don’t know if I could wait.”
He latched onto my neck and opened my pants, pushing them and the briefs I wore under my ass cheeks. I stroked my dick and signed as he pulled out the plug I wore.
“Someone came prepared.”
“Someone wants to fucking come.”
The crinkle of a condom filled the space between us, and then his cock filled my ass.
“Motherfucker,” I grunted through gritted teeth. “Fuck,Papi, you’re big.”
“Proportional,” he moaned, palming my soft, floppy cock. “I’m sorry.”
“No worries. Just gimme a minute.”
I breathed through my nose, forcing myself to relax so my body could adjust to the anaconda the bastard sported. He nuzzled my neck, raining kisses on the tender, sensitive flesh. A war waged within. Pain and pleasure battled for dominance, and slowly, so fucking slowly, pleasure won out, and the pain receded, perking up my dick.
“There we go,” he muttered, easing out slightly. “Okay?”
I nodded, moaning as the mushroom head rolled over the sensitive bundle of nerves that made sparks fly across my eyelids and throughout my body, each one resonating. He set up a slow, steady rhythm, his hips rolling against my ass until I moved with him.
My head dropped back on his shoulder, and I let him take the control he laid claim to. A kaleidoscope of ecstasy painted the most beautiful pictures on the backs of my closed eyelids. Colors exploded in harmony with the thundering of my pulse and the sultry beat of Britney that drowned out everything but him.
“You feel so fucking good,vato.”
He punctuated each word with a deep, hard thrust that pegged my prostate, and game over should’ve flashed before my eyes. Cum shot from my cock as if something dark and sinister reached into my soul and ripped it from me.
He groaned, his head falling forward to rest against mine as his already huge ass cock hardened and pulsed deep inside me.
“Fuck, I needed that, vato.”
“Same, but now I need another drink.”
He eased out of me, replacing the plug before tucking me back into my pants, and we headed to the bar after a quick pit stop in the bathroom to clean up. A bartender caught sight of us approaching the side of the bar we vacated for a dark corner, and he moved away from the throng of thirsty patrons.
He smirked as he asked, “You guys want a drink or another dark corner?”
I burst out laughing, and Tall, Dark, and Hot as Fuck gave the bartender the stink eye and deadpanned, “I’ll take a Four Horsemen.”
“Damn, dude. It’s your funeral.” The bartender turned to me. “You want another Vodka Cranberry, or do you have a death wish too?”
“No death wish. Just bring me the Vodka Cranberry. And put his on my tab.”
“What’s the name?”
“Declan Holt.”
The bartender moved off, and I turned back to find a pair of deep chocolate, nearly black eyes staring at me. “I don’t need you to buy my drinks.”
“Consider it a thank you for making the night interesting.”
The smug, satisfied look on his face told me what he was about to say.
“It’s not over yet.”
“Considering the day I had, I’m happy to hear it.”
“I get that.”
