We met in the parking lot of a park.
I learned long ago, no matter how tempted, not to expose myself in a place like this. Even the conversation is usually veiled with innuendo so not to be entrapped by a law enforcement officer.
Those scenarios are only fun adult entertainment venues.
It was cold and trying to snow. I was just sitting in my car, looking at apps like A4A or Scruff, just to see who was around. Picking up (or getting picked up) at the park never seemingly happens - not for years now.
But noon on a crappy day like this didn't even bring out the folks who sometimes take a break from the office and eat their lunch in their car. There were a few people who drove through constantly looking for someone.......or someone better. They weren't apt to find it this day. The other ones were the men who probably still had driving privileges but lived at a senior center. The ones who'd take out their teeth to give you a gum job - should that be your thing.
Then a red pick-up truck pulled up next to me. It had seen better days. It has a WVU sticker on the side right above an HRC one. I was facing out, he was facing in. He rolled down a window, and then so did I.
The conversation was brief: "want to follow me?" I nodded, though I don't know what I was following him for.
He looked as if he buzzed his hair and was on the chubby side, though not fat - though it was hard to tell.
The drive was all of five minutes back to an apartment building. He did a U-turn and parked in front. I did the same. I followed him into the building, and into the elevator - no words were spoken. It wasn't awkward, oddly enough.
He opened his door, we walked in and took off our shoes. As I did, I noticed a few books on his shelf about dealing with repressed sexual abuse. I took away that he had, in the past, some kind of experience where someone took advantage of him. Of course, that was my take.
Deeper into the apartment, he dropped his clothes. He was chubbier than anticipated, but not really fat. His cock however, was thick. And thicker as it got to the base. He was about 7"long, but it was a lot of girth.
He sat on his sofa, legs spread. I knew what to do. I knelt.
Then I sucked.
Soon, he had his his legs around my head, in a lock, holding me down on all the way on his cock. Again, I gave no indication of my deviated septum, so he had no way of knowing I couldn't really breathe. Nor do I think he would have given a fuck if he had known.
"Take it all".........were his words. I did my fucking best.
"Stand up", he commanded. I did. And then I stripped as he told me too. I was rock hard.
"Stroke it". I did.
His hands ran over my hairy ass. I heard him mutter, "nice".
"Bend over, show me that hole". I did just that.
With legs spread wide, I bent over, knowing I wouldn't even have to spread my cheeks and that he'd get the view for which he was looking. Then I felt a thumb at my hole.
"Yeah, that looks good to fuck", he said - probably more to himself than to me. "I want to come in there".
I asked him, 'what did you say?', but all he repeated back was that he wanted to fuck me. But I know I heard more.
"I don't have a lot of time, get in the bedroom".
There was a presumption of me getting fucked. There was no asking if I was into it, or wanted it. I suppose following a stranger back to his place, getting naked and bending over could give one the idea of receptivity.
I was up front and told him I was relatively clean, but wasn't really planning on this, so I wasn't whistle clean. He said that's what towels are for and put one on the bed. He told me to lie on it. When I got on my back, he said, "no, the other way" and soon I was face down.
What I couldn't see - what I couldn't anticipate - was that between the pillows and the headboard, he had attachments that had fallen past the mattress. Wrist restraints. He was on top of me when he pulled one out and secured it faster than fast. As I was starting to protest, the second one went on.
I protested of course.
I mean, I tried to be reasonable, saying that I didn't know him and needed to be comfortable with the situation. He ignored me, as he made sure they were secure.
I thought - much later, after the fact - that at what point would I have screamed if something happened. Or would I have screamed at all? In my mind, there is a certain complicity to the situation I was in - and possibly embarrassing. And would being ashamed and found out overrule having something potentially fatally done to me?
Clearly - I'm alive, as I am writing this.
Don't get me wrong. I did protest, but on other levels, there was something highly erotic about this entire event. I even flashed on the books he had on his shelf.
Were they dealing with shit he had as a child, or was it about the scenario we were now in - and one that he had clearly done before to have the equipment at the ready.
I tried to tell him it had been over a month since I've been fucked - which wasn't exactly true - but hoping with that thick cock he'd enter a little easier than what I expected would be coming.
He might have been easier than he intended, but it wasn't an 'ease in' situation.
While I've been trying to go without poppers, right then, they would have been a welcome friend. So I relied solely on breathing. I could feel my hole stretch as he tried to bottom out. As thick as his base looked, and even felt in my mouth, it seemed much larger as he was parting my ass.
Soon enough, his pubes were pressed against my skin.
There was no getting used to his rod in my butt. The fucking began immediately.
I was face down in a stranger's bed, shackled to it as well. He had me where he wanted me. In ways, I had me where I wanted me.
I'd say the fucking was all about him, but so was the park pick-up, the blowing him and showing my hole.
He might have talked himself into that these are things I wanted as well, but this was all for his satisfaction. If I benefited from it, he was probably ok with that, but probably didn't give it much of a second thought. His scene. His pleasure.
He fucked me for maybe 10 minutes.
He asked if I wanted it up my hole. At this point, I was a little stand-offish and said, "would it matter if I didn't?"
Then the very next sound was "UHHHNNNNNNNNNN"
I felt every tremor of his body. I felt every throb and every squirt.
As he had his full weight on me, I felt every aftershock too.
It was the one time I took a little control too. I used my ass muscles to squeeze his shaft, so that he'd tremble with hypersensitivity.
It was a big load. I felt it. I now owned it. It was mine.
We both dressed quickly. The ride down the elevator was a little more awkward, but we parted ways without exchanging names, emails or thank yous.
There was no reason. There should never be another meet-up because this was a spontaneous and fluid event (pun intended). It couldn't be replicated and if it were, it would just seem forced (another pun?)
In a way, everyone got what they wanted.