Rainy Day

I got a text from Allen as thunderstorms passed through.

"Rained out?"

"Yeah. S'up?"

"I'm at the gallery. No business. 'Natch. Gonna close up for lunch. Wanna meet in the storeroom? I'll let U fuck my brains out."

We have a deal that he would not make a scene over me in public. We were strictly on the down-low. And he had been really good at keeping his end of the deal, but hooking up with him in the middle of town in the middle of the day was the opposite of being on the down-low. On the other hand, it was pouring, the town would be deserted, and damn it would feel so good.

"See you at Noon."

I had come to regard Allen as a survivor. His micro-penis had made him the target of derision and easy prey to hideous men with cruel desires. His last boyfriend had kicked him out when Allen refused to be ravaged by strangers for the boyfriend's entertainment. More than once he had been bent over a chair and raped while the boyfriend leered and beat off. His reward for finally finding the courage to say no was to be kicked to the curb, his belongings piled beside the street. It was a public humiliation that left him abandoned within the gay community.

I encountered his diminutive cock when I set up a tryst for us in an economy motel. I was excited for my first experience of anal sex but blanched at the sight of his misshapen, grotesque cock. Allen hid it from my gaze and proceeded to fuck me gloriously. It was a renaissance for his mauled self-esteem yet I felt ashamed that I had reacted as I did. Ever since then, I had vowed to treat his penis as if it was the cock of Adonis. Allen blossomed within our secret liaisons.

I parked on a side street and made a mad dash through the rain. The bell above the door jingled as I entered. No customers. Just Allen. With a glance, I could tell he had been daydreaming about hooking up with me. He had that vampire look in his lusty eyes and his whole body seemed to vibrate in a Pavlovian response to the ringing bell. I imagined him salivating and knew his mouth would be juicy and wet.

I rushed past him to the storeroom in the back. "Put up the sign and lock the door." Moments later he burst into the storeroom and leapt into a kiss. My hands clutched his ass cheeks and lifted him. His legs encircled me, grinding himself into my crotch. His lips were pressed hard against mine and his tongue was on a spin cycle deep within my mouth.

I have never known anyone, man or woman, to go from zero to sixty faster than Allen. Probably because he cheated. He had no sexual idle, no coital neutral gear. Even in sleep, he was trapped in an endless loop of debauched dreams, like the short films category at the Porno Academy Awards. His switch was never off. The way he looked at men in broad daylight was the equivalent of going thirty. Be alone with him in a room and his fuck engine was revving up near the redline. So at the first touch of my lips to his, the race was on, full bore. Let's fuck.

I let him down. "Get naked," I commanded. He shed his clothes in a flash and waited impatiently as I struggled out of mine. As soon as my pants hit the floor he was airborne again, arms around my neck, legs circling my waist, tongue aflame in my mouth. I stumbled to the couch and laid him down gently. He tried to pull my cock to his lips. I resisted. Instead, I went to my knees beside him and sucked his tiny micro-cock into my hungry mouth. My lips latched onto the base as my tongue lavished the contours of his teeny shaft. The moan that came from him was hardly on the down-low. It started out low, barely escaping. Then with every flick of my tongue, it mounted, louder, higher. It was nearly a banshee cry as I sucked his scanty cock as lushly as I could. I imagined his cries echoing through the empty streets. One more great suck and I drew his spewing jizz down my throat. Allen was not used to a man attending to his needs. He came quickly, with gusto, and then collapsed into a state so deep it was unnerving. I gave him a moment, then roused him.

"You promised I could fuck your brains out."

"Well," he raised his knees high and spread his cheeks revealing his eager ass, "come fuck me then."

"Not that way." I pulled him to his feet then slid behind him and sat, my turgid cock begging.

"Not reverse cowboy. You know I like to watch your face," he pouted.

"Forget my face this time. Focus on my cock just like I did with your cock."

If an anus could be petulant his was as he leaned back and guided me to his rosebud. His attitude, however, changed utterly as my cockhead penetrated him. He was converted by every inch as he sat back and admitted my manhood further and deeper. First entry was always so cloistering and consuming as he availed my cock to the gooey, tight embrace of his ass. It was a passage into a masculine, feral lust. One man penetrating, the other accepting, together striving toward a unity that was reserved for men alone.

He propped his hands on my knees and started to hula his hips side to side, the sheath of his ass twisting and tugging my cock, sending delirious waves and rippling arcs of euphoria up my spine. He rose and gyrated down, first to the right, then to the left, swaddling every nerve ending in a twerking, lascivious embrace. I was thrilled at the sight of my cock emerging, then descending into the luscious grotto between his plump dancing cheeks. He loosened with every plunge, allowing more ravenous twerks of his hips. A fog of sensation swallowed my being as I watched him perform his magic, that heathen ritual of transforming a man into a sexual creature of heart, soul, and cum. Damnation, this lovely, damaged man could fuck.

Too fast, too deep, too engulfing. I reached out and urged him backward. With his back arched, his shoulders rested against my chest. One hand calmed his hips atop my impaled cock. The other hand fondled a succulent nipple. My mouth made a sloppy mess of the nape of his neck. We quieted until my loins were once again under control, then I proceeded to fuck Allen. In this position, my hunching cock could only make short, quick jabs into him, but those jabs landed squarely on his prostate. His breath became a sequence of gasps corresponding to my plunging thrusts. My ardor rose and my hips drove my manhood into him again and again. His head craned toward me and our lips mashed together until his gasps overcame him and he sucked air. He sidled halfway off my chest. Our eyes met as he got his wish to watch my face as I became lost within the delirium he induced. Gasps and moans filled the air. My eyes clenched shut as I heaved myself back and forth inside him. My plush cockhead pummeled his spot. With one final heave that lifted us both above the couch, I erupted, spewing my jizz deep, emptying heart and soul into the beautiful confines of this marvelous man. I heard him groan with release as he spilled his second load on the floor.

We recovered slowly. I finally managed to gaze upon him through hooded eyes. He said, "That was one hellacious quickie. We gotta do this more often."

I couldn't move so Allen got some wet towels from the sink. He cleaned himself, then myself, then a wide swath of the floor. From the front of the store, a bell tingled.

"I thought you locked the door?" I whispered.

"I did. It must be Barry, the owner."

We both scrambled for our clothes. The sibilant voice of the most flamboyant gay man in town rang out. "Allen? Are you here?"

"I'll be right there."

A curtain was all that divided the display area from the storeroom. I could hear his footfalls. He was standing just outside. I knew he could hear the rustle of clothes.

"What's going on, Allen?"

I was pulling up my jeans, Allen was tying his shoe when the curtain wrenched open. I was not yet covered up and Barry's eyes were agape with a combination of shock and appraisal. He looked to a crimson Allen who now stood shabbily but fully dressed.

"This will never happen again," Barry proclaimed menacingly. "Understand?"

"We were ... I was about to re-open..."

"Never!"

Then Barry smiled at me with a bawdy leer. I was one of the available local studs that the gay men in town speculated about and lusted after. He would never have guessed that pathetic little Allen would be the one to bag me.

"Well, well, well. Hello Phil." His voice dripped with mockery yet revealed a deeper jealousy. To Allen he added, "Mazel, Allen. This will make you the talk of the town."

I jumped in, "Actually, Barry, I would very much appreciate your discretion about this."

His smile was slightly sinister as he sized me up and calculated how gracious he was willing to be. It seemed possible that solicitation of a sexual favor might be on the table but, at a glance, he must have gauged that I was not to be trifled with.

"Of course, Phil. Your little secret is safe with me. After all, we all have our little dalliances, don't we." He shifted his scrutiny to Allen. "Not me. And never in a million years would I have guessed Allen. But like I said, Mazel. I'll lock up after myself."

We stood frozen until the tinkling bell announced Barry's exit.

"That secret will last about thirty seconds," I said.

Allen's face flushed with anxiety. "I'm sorry. Please don't dump me. This sort of gossip stays within the gay community. I mean, dozens of supposedly straight men would be ruined otherwise. Married Men. Town fathers, for God's sake. Please."

He was so vulnerable and fragile in a way that Barry and the other gay men could not understand. There was no doubt that the gay hotline would be buzzing about Allen and Phil. Actually, I thought, that could be a good thing for Allen, a feather in the cap of his otherwise totally plucked and parboiled life.

"What the hell. The chips will fall as they may but I'm not going to let that chatty Cathy tarnish the memory of a truly stellar fuck." I gave him a quick kiss and was pleased to see his relief. "You are an exceptional lover, Allen, and a very sexy man." Another kiss and I was gone.

The sun had come out. I made a quick reconnoiter of the street. No familiar faces. I scurried off, sexually sated, resigned to the gods of fate and my very questionable karma.