Urban Delights

by Emeric Varady

  His credit card was in the name of some corporation, so I didn’t know what his surname was, and, exercising professional tact, I didn’t ask. The payment went through without any difficulty, so I really didn’t care whether my American john would turn out to be the prophet Ezekiel, or the archangel Gabriel. His money was good, which was what mattered to me.

  So, we were all set to meet up, during my stay in the States.

  I felt pretty well fucked out after shooting my scene with Israele, but a hearty lunch provided by Trent and Bo helped me to bounce back.

  Zeke called to confirm our date, telling me the name and address of the motel and his room number.

  “Come right to the room,” he instructed me. “Don’t let the guy in the office see you. Don’t let anybody see you.”

  “Of course not,” I assured him.

  I’d dealt with closeted johns often enough before, but this guy seemed to be carrying his obsession with privacy to an extreme.

  “Either the guy’s so closeted he’s truly paranoid,” I told Sandor, with whom I shared the information about where I was going, “or he’s a serial killer.”

  “You watch too many of those American crime shows back home,” my buddy replied. “But if the guy seems at all weird, make a point of telling him I know where you are, and I’m expecting you back.”

  This time, I didn’t have to call a cab.

  “Take one of our cars,” Trent told me, generously. “I’ll get you the keys.”

  Sandor and I had each brought along International Driver’s Permits, in addition to our Hungarian driver’s licenses, in anticipation that such an opportunity might come up.

  I felt quite glamorous, behind the wheel of a Porsche 911 convertible coupe, with its top down. Wearing my sunglasses, I was definitely Joe Cool. Too bad I was working! If I wasn’t, I could do some cruising, in hopes of picking up a passenger. I fantasized about picking up some shirtless, sun-bronzed Floridian hitchhiker, and having my way with him, and having him ravage me in turn—hot damn!

  But I was a little let down when I saw that the motel, although it certainly wasn’t a dump, looked like an inexpensive place. Of course, since Zeke didn’t want me to come to where he actually lived, I supposed I couldn’t blame him for economizing on the rented room. The serial killer possibility did flash briefly through my mind, again—!

  In the parking space in front of the room, there was parked a rather unusual motor vehicle. It was a four-door Bentley Flying Spur W12 S. I was impressed. And I remembered what a friend of mine had told me, once. He was a Brit, and a fellow escort. In the United Kingdom, he told me, nouveau riche men who were insecure about their social status always bought and drove Rolls Royces, to show off their wealth. Rich men, with old money, and others who were confident about their social status, owned and drove Bentleys, maintaining a slightly lower profile.

  I suspected that a Bentley was a bit of a rarity here in the United States, and that a guy had to go to some trouble—never mind the expense!—to acquire one. This was promising. My john was apparently a connoisseur, accustomed to enjoying the good things in life, but he wasn’t flashy or ostentatious.

  I parked my borrowed luxury vehicle next to the one which was already there. I have to admit that the possibility of vandalism or auto theft did cross my mind.

  After admiring the Bentley close up, I knocked on the door of the motel room. The door opened, and I was stunned by what I saw.

  I knew my john was black, of course, but that was really all I knew about him, ahead of time. His age, his degree of attractiveness—all that was up in the air, open to speculation.

  But Zeke turned out to be a huge man, whose body seemed to fill the open doorframe. Not that he was overweight. He was massive, taller and broader than me, but his generously proportioned body was packed with hard muscle. His impressive physique was displayed to excellent advantage, because he wore only a tank top and a pair of gym shorts, both tight-fitting. He was barefoot, and his feet, like his hands and the rest of him, were huge.

  He was handsome—a nice face, with a habitually open expression and an infectious grin. His black hair was cropped close to his scalp. He had a neatly trimmed pencil mustache on his upper lip, which I thought was very sexy. His eyes were black, too, and bright, with a gleam in them, as they swept up and down, surveying and assessing me. The way he was looking at me suggested that I hadn’t been guilty of false advertising, and that he liked what he saw. As for Zeke’s skin, he was very black—coal black, which I liked. I congratulated myself. I’d been hired by a real stud! I suspected I was in for a really good time.

  “Hi!” the big man exclaimed, a little breathlessly. He glanced about the parking lot, apparently to make sure no one was observing us. “Come in, quick.” Ushering me inside, he closed the door behind us, snapped the lock, and put up the security chain.

  The window’s drapes and blinds were drawn closed, blocking out the late-afternoon sunlight, which was strong even at that time of day. Evidently, Zeke was a little paranoid about keeping our tryst a secret.

  The room was in fact quite dark, the only illumination provided by a shaded table lamp set on a table beside the bed. The lamp was equipped with a dimmer switch, and its bulb, probably low wattage to begin with, had been turned down by Zeke. The bed itself was turned down, ready for us to occupy.

  The air in the room was very cold. As was the case in every Floridian interior I’d been in so far, the air conditioner was on full blast.

  “Is that your car outside?” I asked. “The Bentley?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “I like it. That’s all.”

  “I like it, too. It’s expensive. So are you,” he blurted out.

  I smiled—ingratiatingly, seductively, I hoped. “The best is always the costliest,” I suggested. “But worth it, in the long run. Right? Well, here we are,” I remarked, in order to make conversation. “How nice to meet you, face to face, at last.”

  “Same here. Of course, I’ve seen some of your videos. And those naked pictures of you, on your website,” Zeke said. “I must say—you’re even better looking, more impressive, in person. Been hitting the weights, haven’t you?”

  “I must admit—I spend a lot of time in the gym,” I confirmed.

  “It shows.”

  “You’re quite well built, yourself,” I told him.

  He was looking me in the face, curiously.

  “You don’t recognize me, do you? You don’t know who I am?” He seemed astonished, that I didn’t know who he was.

  “Ah—I’m afraid not.” It was a delicate situation. There was no point in bluffing, or in outright lying. The truth was, I had no idea who my john might be. But he seemed amused by my ignorance, rather than offended, and that was what encouraged me to be candid. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Oh, don’t apologize. This is refreshing, actually. I’m so used to having people fawn all over me—! Just caring about what they can get from me. This is different. I like it. Listen. You’re discreet, aren’t you?”

  “Very,” I assured him.

  “You see, I’m on the down low. I don’t want anybody—I mean, my family, the public, the fans—to know I’m gay.”

  “I understand perfectly. You can rely on me. If I may hazard a guess—you’re some sort of a professional athlete? With that build, you almost have to be.”

  “Thanks for the compliment. Coming from a real muscle man like you, that’s flattering. Yeah, you’ve guessed right. I’m a football player. A rather well-known one, if I do say so myself.”

  “That explains it,” I said. “I don’t really follow American football.”

  He sucked in his breath, in mock shock. “To hear anybody say that—you’re killing me, dude!” he complained, facetiously. “Thank God not everybody feels the same way.”

  “Back home, in Europe, in Hungary, it’s all soccer,” I said. “Now, if you were a soccer player, I’d know all about you. I could recite all your statistics from memory.”r />
  “Huh,” he grunted. “Well, I’ll have you know, you’re here in this motel room with one of American football’s biggest stars.”

  “And you’re here with one of Hungary’s hottest porn stars and escorts,” I replied, shamelessly. “So—at a guess—I’d say we’re evenly matched. In terms of fame. Or, in my case, notoriety.”

  Zeke laughed. “Boy, you are a hoot. I’m so glad I hired you.”

  “You may be even more glad, in a moment. Want to get started? Want to fuck?”

  “Yeah!” he proclaimed, almost shouting in his eagerness. “Let’s get these clothes off. With you—I think I don’t have to be a goddamn hotshot football player. I think I can be just a man,” he said, rather plaintively.

  “And what a man!” I told him, sincerely. “Come on, big guy,” I growled. “Let’s get naked and fuck!”

  We stripped.

  On the bed, I admit it—I wallowed like a (sex) pig in mire, luxuriating in the feel of Zeke’s hard-muscled black body against mine. I set out to show him that he hadn’t squandered his money, when he’d hired a whore like me. I explored every part of his physique, making love to it not only with my hands, but with my lips and tongue. His armpits—his pecs and nipples—his taint—his balls—his asshole—even his huge feet. I kissed and licked and sucked them all, in an oral frenzy.

  Deliberately, though, I bypassed his cock, edging him, ignoring the way that dusky phallus of him jutted upward from his crinkly-haired groin. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I wanted to chow down on that manly meat! But I denied myself, and my john, that pleasure, at first.

  “Suck—my freaking dick—for me—you goddamn prickteasing whore!” Zeke bellowed, breaking up the command with labored, agonized intakes of breath.

  Instead, I attacked his rear end, spreading his buttocks with my hands and licking up and down along the deep cleft between them. My tongue flicked tantalizingly over his flexing anal pucker. I was delaying, postponing the actual rimming, teasing Zeke. But the big guy had finally had enough of my coyness!

  “Suck my black man’s ass, you white slut!” Zeke roared. “Stick your tongue up my ass! Lick it out! You dirty Hungarian man whore, you!”

  I didn’t see what my nationality had to do with it. But I was more than ready to suck his butch ass, if the alternative was pissing off this huge dude!

  He sat on my face, heavily, leaving me with little choice in the matter. Whether I wanted to or not, I had to rim him. I had to suck his ass!

  His buttocks were so big, two absolutely inflexible hemispheres of hard muscle covered by smooth, charcoal-hued flesh, that I honestly feared I might end up being smothered between them while I ate his ass. But, stoically, bearing the example set by the ancient Romans, I held my ground and I persevered. I drove my tongue in and out of his hotly spasming bunghole. His sphincter relaxed and seemed to sag down against my ass kissing lips, around my probing tongue, as I savored the manly taste of his black butt. God, he was a stud! His behind was every bit as virile, as exciting, as the rest of his body. As though his anus contained some intoxicating drug, which, transferred to my tongue and lips, drove me mad with lust, I devoured his manhole, betraying an insatiable hunger for his sleek, pungent ass flesh! Zeke was lucky that, in my frenzy, I didn’t bite off, chew on, and swallow chunks of his ass, as I might consume so much raw meat!

  “Fuck, yeah, that’s some good rimming, some hot ass sucking, you muscle stud!” he roared. “Uh, stick that tongue right up my ass! Lick and suck, bitch! Lick and suck! Oh—eat out my black ass!”

  At last, though, he climbed off me.

  “I have to fuck your ass, before I go crazy thinking about it,” he swore.

  I saw a plastic pump bottle of lubricant, on the table next to the bed, beside the lamp. I reached for it.

  “Let’s use plenty of this,” I suggested. “You’re hung big, man! I don’t want to end up with my asshole ripped open.”

  I squirted some of the gel onto my palm. I wrapped my hand around Zeke’s erection, coating it thoroughly, from base to tip, with the slippery substance.

  “I’ll be gentle,” he promised.

  Famous last words!

  I drew him tightly against me and I kissed him, hard and hot and wet, on the mouth for several minutes.

  “Put it in me,” I invited him, feverish with anticipation. I rolled onto my stomach beside him. “Is this position good for you?”

  He grunted. “With you, stud, I bet any position would be good! Hold still. Yeah—I’ll take you just like this, with me on top—!”

  He lay motionless for a moment, breathing hard and noisily, but then he got up onto his knees, and, climbing on top of me, he straddled me, just below my buttocks. God, he was a big man—heavy! Holding his well-lubed cock in his fist, he pressed it down into the cleft between my ass cheeks. He grunted in frustration when he didn’t find my hole at first, and he pulled away.

  “Wait, let me,” I babbled. I reached my arm behind my butt and I took his slippery dick in my hand. “Lean forward a little, over me.” He raised himself up and he crouched over me, making it easier for me to maneuver the head of his cock into position between my glutes. I pressed the thick round glans right against my pucker, wondering whether I’d really be able to absorb that big thing anally without ending up being split wide open! Recklessness consumed me, obliterating my scruples. “Shove it right in me, big guy,” I told Zeke. “I can take it,” I insisted, optimistically. “I want it! Give it to me—now!”

  I should’ve kept my damn fool mouth shut—and my sphincter clenched!

  Zeke pushed again, forcing his prickhead right through my cringing anal aperture, and he emitted a fierce grunt of joy when he felt my ass tighten around his cock in instinctive self-defense. He lay heavily on top of me. He outweighed me by quite a few pounds, and his big body seemed to overwhelm mine as it sank down on me, holding me down on the bed, almost squeezing the breath out of my lungs. His mouth sucked on the side of my neck, and then his teeth bit into my flesh there, as he pressed his dick into me, again and again. He was already inside me—fucking me—taking my ass!

  I yelped when I felt those strong teeth of his nip into the skin of my neck. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have minded being given a love bite or two, during the course of a hot sex act. But I instantly began to worry about whether I’d have a lingering suck mark, which would show up during our next video shoot. I didn’t protest to Zeke, though. It was too late. And I told myself I could always cover up a hickey with body makeup. As a competitive bodybuilder and a nude physique model, I was used to availing myself of such artifices, to make myself look as good as possible. I’d brought my makeup kit with me, in my luggage.

  Meanwhile, Zeke was certainly enjoying himself, judging by his responses to his penetration of my ass.

  “Ah, Jesus, Emeric!” he told me, in an awed tone of voice. “This is one of the best fucks I’ve ever had! What an ass! I don’t often get to screw a dude with a body as good as yours. Even my teammates who are on the down low, too—those horny sons of bitches are big and muscular, sure, but they tend to put on some fat, too. They’re not all ripped and defined like you are, every goddamn muscle standing out. Aw, shit, this is good! You’re worth what you charge! Every motherfucking cent!”

  His praise was music to my ears, just as his cock was sheer ecstasy inside my ass. He wasn’t the most subtle or refined lover I’d ever had, but his energy and enthusiasm more than made up for any lack of finesse. He was fucking me flat out, not sparing me. Each time he thrust down between my buttocks and through my sphincter, I felt his cock sink fully into me. His testicles slapped between my spread thighs, and the coarse black pubic hair surrounding the base of his dick scratched against my ass cheeks. His glans battered away at my prostate, like a clenched fist repeatedly and insistently knocking on a door. Groaning, sweating, breathing hard, he collapsed on top of me, planting frantic wet kisses everywhere he could reach with his lips, on the back on my neck, on my earlobes, on my cheeks, on my shoulde
rs and on my upper back between my shoulder blades. He bit me again, more than once, making me yelp in response. He was like an animal—a savage, rutting male animal in heat, going after sex, maddened by lust, functioning by pure instinct. I was his mate!

  “So good,” he kept repeating. “This is so good! Oh, I’m so glad I hired you. I’m so glad you’re here, I’m so glad I’m fucking your ass!”

  I was glad, too, grateful to have such a stimulating sex partner—despite the fact that his brutal use of my ass was costing me a good deal of very real pain. Talk about biting off more than you can chew! His exceptionally large and virile cock was testing even my anal ability. The thought crossed my mind that Zeke was wasted, playing football. The big-dicked bastard ought to be working in the gay porn industry, himself! He was reaming me out in much the same way that Brash had, truly threatening to wreck my hole.

  My fucker was a football player, but it felt as though he’d shoved a baseball up my ass! My sphincter was stretched around the circumference of that obscenely large object which he was driving into my guts. The distension in my anus set my nerve endings on fire, transforming my butthole into a fiery tunnel.

  I felt as though I had been impaled on a sharp-pointed spike, the torture Attila the Hun liked to inflict upon his enemies. Zeke’s long, thick, inflexible cock seemed to have been driven right through me, nailing me to the bed! My guts spasmed uncontrollably around his erection for a moment, my internal muscles trying to force him out of my hole. I let out a gasp of shock.

  But then my professionalism reasserted itself. I’d been paid for sex, and sex was exactly what I was going to deliver. And being penetrated by such a massively built, well-hung, masculine man excited me. The fact that my fucker was black added to my arousal. I wanted the dark stallion to rape my vulnerable white man’s hole!

  Regaining control over my anal muscles, I worked them deliberately, massaging that imposing erection, milking it. The pain ebbed away, and it was replaced by a heat which seemed to originate deep in my anus, but radiated outward throughout my whole body, paradoxically soothing and exciting me at once. I was taking that big black stud cock, and I was loving it! Every inch of it! Suddenly, far from wanting to fight the phallic invasion, I couldn’t get enough of it. I couldn’t surrender too much of myself!