by Rob Rosen
When I caught my breath, I freed Willy once more, this time from his wondrous hole. I found some paper towels and cleaned myself up. He jumped off the conference table and did the same. Then we stood there, naked adversaries sizing each other up.
He moved in closer. I did the same, until our bodies were united and his arms reached out and encircled me. “This doesn’t change anything,” he whispered in my ear.
But it did, I had a feeling. It changed everything, in fact.
I laughed and nodded my full agreement as I stared into his beautiful eyes of blue. “Just shut up and kiss me, Lou,” I whispered in reply, failing to suppress a lustful grin. “Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”
Jackpot
I sat down and slid in a twenty; it was, sadly, the last of a once-hefty wad. Vegas hadn’t been very good to me, you see: Celine sucked, my hotel room faced a bank of windows, it was hotter than hell outside and cold as an iceberg inside, and, worst of all, the convention still had a full day to go.
In other words, neither I nor my wallet could take much more abuse.
Still, I had hope. Eighty quarters, that twenty dollars I mentioned, was sixteen shots at a small fortune. Heck, three quarters could be parlayed into, into…well, fuck, not a whole lot. Not in the grand scheme of things, anyhow. So, I nursed my free rum and Coke, not to mention that old Andrew Jackson, and prayed for a miracle. Given that not many had happened in the past couple of millennia, I wasn’t holding my breath. But then…
“Fish ain’t biting?” came the voice from the newly occupied seat to my right.
“I think the fish are swimming up the wrong stream,” I replied, watching in dismay as a pair of sevens couldn’t quite bring themselves to become a trio.
“Maybe all you need is better bait,” he added.
“Bait’s almost gone, I’m afraid.” Which was depressingly true. The original eighty quarters was now down to a paltry five. “How ‘bout yourself?”
He laughed, a deep baritone chuckle that shook my bones like a cupful of dice. It was a laugh that sounded not too unfamiliar. A hot spark crept up my spine as I tried to place it, knowing that I’d heard it somewhere before. “Take a look for yourself,” he replied.
I glanced over. In his big mitt of a hand he held a silver money clip with enough bills to choke an elephant. Again, he laughed, the sound rumbling through me like an earthquake. It was then that the light bulb went off above my head. Like a snowflake, no two laughs are exactly alike; his was no exception. In fact, his couldn’t have been more different from just about anyone else’s—not ten years earlier and certainly not that fateful day. Slowly, I lifted my chin, my eyes traveling up his narrow waist and broad chest, eventually landing on two eyes as brilliant as gemstones, sparkling cobalt in the lights of the machines in front of us.
“Tom?” I barely managed to ask in a whisper.
The smile was replaced by a look of out-and-out surprise. “Chuck?” he practically shouted. “That you?” He slapped my back. “What are the odds?”
His slap knocked my hand against the slot machine, sending the reels spinning lightning-fast. I turned and watched, rapt in amazement as a red seven was quickly followed by a white seven and then a blue seven, blue as the eyes I felt boring into me. My heart leapt to my throat as my last five quarters started multiplying, and the machine, like a choir of angels, played its joyous winning tune, repeating over and over and over again, until at last it stopped as suddenly as it had started.
“Seems like you caught a big-ass fish,” came the voice again, the sound even more mesmerizing than the machine’s.
Once more, I turned to look at his handsome face, even more stunning than when last I saw it, the day we graduated from high school. “Guess I finally found the right bait.” He smiled and winked at me, causing me to spill the remainder of my drink into my lap. “Fuck,” I shouted, jumping up and splashing the remnants from my slacks onto his.
He stared down at the mess I’d made and then pointed to the number of quarters now registering on my slot machine. “Oh well, looks like you can afford to buy us both a new pair.”
And then it was my turn to laugh. “Guess my luck has finally changed.”
“First your luck, then your pants,” he said, his laugh edged with a nervousness I hadn’t heard before. “Unless you want to walk around Vegas looking like you wet yourself.”
My face reddened at the comment. “Yep. Too bad my hotel is down The Strip, though.”
“Then your luck is holding out, Chuck; I’m staying at this fine establishment, and I have a blow dryer up in my room.”
My heart revved up. “Oh, I, um—”
“Hey, what are old friends for?” he interrupted with.
Actually, we’d never been friends. I loved him from afar: me along the sidelines with the band, him on the playing field, the star quarterback. At most, we were passing acquaintances. In fact, I was surprised he even knew my name, either then or now. Still, he was right: I couldn’t walk around Vegas with a wet crotch and neither could he. “Sure,” I relented. “If you don’t mind.”
Again, he patted my back. “Nah. Besides, it’s better to quit while you’re ahead.” He shook his hefty stack and pointed to the receipt I now held in my sweaty hand. I grinned, staring down at it. I was ahead, in more ways than one.
Minutes later, we were up in his suite, which overlooked The Strip far down below. I walked to the window and jealously stared down. “Wow, nice view,” I said, turning around just as he was slipping out of his slacks. I gulped. Tom, it seemed, was going commando.
“Thanks,” he said with a snicker and a glance down at his crotch. “I like it, too.” He pointed at my still wet pants. “Your turn now.”
A crimson flush spread up my neck. “Um, oh yeah,” I squeaked out, slowly reaching for my zipper as he sat on the bed, oddly watching me undress. Then I kicked my loafers off and slid my pants to the floor. Fortunately, I was wearing underwear. Unfortunately, they, too, were wet, my drink having completely soaked through.
“Guess I’ll be drying them, too,” he told me, leaning back, offering me a tantalizing view of his dangling prick, at his heavy, hairy nuts, at his equally hairy crack. “Off with them.”
I did as he commanded, trying and failing to hide my semi-erection. He stared at it, watching it grow, inch by thick inch. Finally, he rasped, “If I pull on the arm, what are the odds that a stream of quarters will come flying out?”
I smiled at the comment. “Odds are good that if you pull on it, something will come streaming out, but it won’t be quarters.”
He jumped off the bed and strode over to me, his own cock gradually rising as he made his way. He stopped a foot in front of me, those startling pools of blue drawing me in. His hand tentatively closed the gap, reaching out to grab my now fully erect dick. My hand followed, wrapping around his tree trunk thickness. I stared hungrily at it. “Gotta be the number-one show in Vegas,” I quipped.
“And look how great your seats are,” he added, taking the last step toward me before wrapping his arms around my waist, crushing me in his steely embrace.
“Best seat in the house,” I whispered back, brushing my lips against his, which sent a spark up my spine, exploding in my head like a burst of fireworks. His mouth opened, allowing my tongue to slither and coil inside. He kissed me greedily, while his hands roamed freely over my back and my rump, spreading my cheeks apart so he could tickle my hole with both of his index fingers.
“Bingo,” he said into my mouth.
I moved my lips away. “It’s Vegas, Tom; I think you mean Keno.”
“Smartass,” he chided, playfully biting down on my lower lip.
“Speaking of asses,” I said, “mind if I have a gander at yours? All those years on the sidelines watching yours run by, well, I kind of fantasized about what it might look like. Out of uniform, I mean.”
He laughed, pulled away, and jumped on the bed. Quickly, he flipped over and got on his knees for me, his butt beautifully rai
sed in the air. “Fantasy better than the reality?” he asked.
I walked over and ran my hand appreciatively over both hairy cheeks, slapping each one in turn before spreading him apart to reveal a perfect, pink, hair-haloed hole. “It’s no buffet at the Bellagio, but it’ll do,” I joked, panting hard at the naked, hairy, hard sight of him.
“Better taste it to make sure about that.”
“Good idea.” I bent down so that we were ass to face.
“Here,” he offered, pushing his fat cock in between his muscular thighs. “Just hedging my bets.”
I moaned involuntarily. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Well worth the ten year wait.
I took his plumb-thick head, already leaking with salty jizz, in my mouth. It pulsed as I sucked and licked it. He shoved it farther back, gagging me with all that glorious man-meat. I reached up and grabbed both his balls in one hand as I blew him, then gave a tug on them, causing him to arch his back and sharply exhale.
He let go of his prick. I pulled his balls up higher, making his steely prick point straight down. I gave it a light slap, then two. It swayed. A drop of precome dripped down in a long, sticky bead before I licked it off, allowing my tongue to work its way up, up, up his shaft, across and around his stretched scrotum, zeroing in on the sweet spot above. I breathed in, smelling the heady aroma of his ass, then hocked a thick wad of saliva at his hole. The spit dribbled down his crack. Quick as a wink, I lapped it up and allowed my mouth a warm, wet kiss on his ring, all while he bucked his rump into my face.
“Yeah,” he moaned, a rumble that quaked down his body and continued on through to mine.
I pulled back to stare again. I couldn’t get enough of the image: his ass cheeks spread apart, slick with my spit; his hole winking out at me; his long, thick prick and massive balls hanging down. It took my very breath away.
One of my hands reached out to stroke his tool, which was like gripping a baseball bat; the other caressed his crinkled hole. Where my tongue had previously been, a finger now slid in. I popped it out and replaced it with two. He clenched, sighed, eagerly allowed the intrusion. “Three’s my lucky number,” he offered.
I took the hint, gently pushing the trio to the farthest reaches of his tight, muscled hole, which I worked with abandon while jacking his huge cock. When I began to feel the familiar hardening within, I retracted my hand. Again, he sighed and then flipped over onto his back. “What are you gonna stick in me now, Chuck?” he asked with a wink and a smirk.
“I was thinking of fucking you next,” I replied.
“Good thought.” He reached over to the nightstand and removed a handy-dandy bottle of lube and a rubber.
“Bravo. What else you got in there?”
“Well,” he whispered, a slight trace of red spreading across his stubbled cheeks. “I didn’t think I’d be getting the real deal this weekend, so…” And out of the drawer he removed a fat, pink dildo.
I laughed and ran my hand across his hairy six-pack, up his flexed pecs. “Guess you won’t be needing that now,” I told him.
A devilishly playful look spread across his handsome face. “Well, just because you’re fucking me doesn’t mean I can’t fuck you at the same time, does it?”
In my long list of firsts, that was one I never thought I’d get offered. In fact, I doubted it had ever before crossed my twisted mind. I leaned down across his stunning body and once more pressed my lips to his before moving my mouth to his ear. “You want to fuck me with that?” I whispered, gently nibbling on his lobe. “While I fuck you?”
He moaned and then replied, “Kind of like betting on red and black, and winning on both.”
I nodded and grinned, staring intently into his stunningly-intense eyes. “It’s a good day for winning then, Tom,” I told him. “Deal me in. Or whatever you say in Roulette, to use your analogy.”
He was up in a flash, flipping me on my back and lifting my legs in the air. “See, Chuck, it wasn’t just you who was dying to get a glimpse of someone’s ass. You shoulda seen yours in that tight blue band uniform. Man, that was a pretty sight.” He looked longingly at my upturned rump and smiled, adding, “Still is a pretty sight, my friend. Still is.” His mouth was on my body in a heartbeat, sucking and licking and slurping on my cock and balls and asshole, while his overly-large hands worked my hard nipples, pulling on them until the whole of my back was off the bed.
Then I felt the cool, slick lube being spread around my crack. He opened me up with two of his sausage-like fingers before placing the head of the dildo up against my bung hole. Slowly, gently, patiently, he glided it in. The familiar warm burn spread up my ass and melted in my tummy. He took his time working the entire phallus up my rear, waiting for me to relax and allow the invasion. Eventually, the entirety of it was nestled up my bum.
“My turn,” he said, eagerly, reaching for the rubber, which he slid over my cock before greasing it up with the lube. He then stood up on the bed and straddled me, facing me as he squatted over my cock, rubbing his asshole against the tender head. It was a joy to watch this big, beautiful man as a look of pure unadulterated glee spread across his face. He sat on my dick, taking the length and breadth of it up his ass in one fell swoop. “Yeah,” he groaned as I filled him to the hilt.
“Yeah,” I echoed when he reached behind himself to push and prod at the dildo.
He rose up and down on my cock. I thrust my prick deep inside of him, all while he did the same with the dildo. Soon enough, we were double-fucking one another, keeping a matching rhythm. Waves of pleasure flowed through both my cock and asshole. And, judging by the look on his face, I could tell he was feeling the same.
He bent down to suck on one of my nipples, teasing and licking and biting it, which caused me to thrash and squirm on the rocking bed, the dildo now ricocheting around my innards. Naturally, I returned the favor, tormenting both of his hair-rimmed nubs.
“Man, that feels good,” he sighed, in between mind-wrenching slurps.
“Ditto,” I groaned, pummeling his ass, filling him up without a centimeter to spare.
He sat back up, never taking those amazing eyes off of me, and ground down heavily on my dick, his hard, hairy ass mashing into my balls, which had already begun their gradual lift to the inevitable.
“Close, my friend. Real close,” he moaned loudly, nodding his head and smiling radiantly down at me.
When I too was close, I spit into my hand and began a slow, steady stroke on his mammoth cock. He stared me deep in the eyes and again nodded. I picked up the pace on his prick as he began to ride mine like a speed-demon, all while the dildo pushed, pushed, pushed at my ever-hardening prostate, over and over again, making every nerve-ending in my body twitch and tingle.
The final yeah we both groaned together as I shot a heavy load up his ass, and his cock quivered and erupted, sending a steady stream of thick, gooey come out across my chest and belly before hitting my nose, my chin. His entire sweat-covered body tensed and then quivered before he collapsed on top of me, smothering my mouth with sloppy kisses. When he popped the dildo out of my ass and I did the same with my cock from his, I began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, gently tweaking my nipples.
I looked him deep into his sparkling blue eyes and replied, “This. Meeting you again. Your comment, what are the odds? I mean, seriously, what are the odds?” Again, I laughed, running my hand across his hairy lower back.
Only, he didn’t echo my laughter with his own. “Um, well…”
“Well what?” I asked, now tickling his hole.
He paused and then grinned. “Well, the odds were kind of stacked in my favor. Your name and bio were, you know, mentioned in the conference book.”
Confused, I asked, “You’re at the same conference as I am?”
He nodded. “Yep. And I’ve been searching for you all weekend. I blew my chances ten years ago; I wasn’t about to let that happen again.” I could feel his cock swell again as he said this.
; “Wow, I guess today really was my lucky day, then,” I said, craning my neck up to give him a kiss.
“Ditto,” he agreed.
“Now,” I thought to add. “One final question.”
“Shoot.”
My fingers again entered his hole. His eyes closed, briefly, before they stared back at me. And then I asked, “So, does what happens in Vegas stay in Vegas?”
“Hell no, Chuck,” he replied, reaching between my legs to find my own hard cock. “The odds of that happening are slim to none. Ten years of gambling on losers is more than enough for me. I’m only gonna bet on sure things from here on out.”
“Well then, Tom,” I told him, “bet the bank because you’re about to come into a fortune.”
Invasion of the Butt Snatchers
The aliens settled in Africa and Europe—what with their love of giraffes and Alpine skiing, and all—and forced the previous inhabitants to move out. In return, they offered us a cure for cancer and put a stop to global warming. It seemed like a fair trade, all things considered, until the newly evicted neighbors, ergo a third of the planet, started arriving in droves.
Though, to be fair, none of us really had that much say in the matter. One minute it was Halloween, and we were setting out our jack—o’—lanterns and stocking up on toilet paper for our various trickeries; the next, the sky was filled with flying saucers. Seems that 1950s Hollywood got that part right. The aliens sent us a rather polite audio explanation, too. They saw our TV ads, liked the Frankenstein, Dracula, and slutty nurses getups, and figured we were cool people.
We were also informed that the aliens’ planet had been enveloped by a nearby supernova, and since we were, as aforementioned, “cool looking,” they chose us to set up camp. Never mind that we really didn’t have bolts in our necks or large fangs or randy medical personnel—or that our world was already occupied, not to mention precariously so—and that we would’ve greatly preferred a long-distance relationship with them. Still, considering their superior intellect, not to mention weaponry, we rolled out the red carpet, unloaded a few thousand welcome baskets, and promptly resettled two entire continents.