There's something mysterious and almost magical about the hour before dawn. The houses are almost universally dark. The streets are practically deserted. Even cruising cop cars are a rarity. The city is sleeping, catching its breath between the previous frantic night and the new hard-working day.
At one time, I too would have been sleeping. Now, this had become my favorite time of the day. As usual, I work up several minutes before the alarm sounded and climbed out of bed. I did my stretching exercises and put on my jockstrap, shorts and running shoes in the dim light from the courtyard outside my apartment.
I left the complex by the west entrance, gently closing the steel security bars behind me, and turned south. To warm up, I walked around the entire block. When I reached Manor Road, I started jogging slowly west.
As I passed under the streetlight at the intersection of Manor and Cherrywood, I noticed an old beat-up Mustang approaching. It glided to a stop, which was odd since the light was green. It seemed like the driver was looking me over. I smiled and gave a half-wave as I turned south on Cherrywood and jogged away.
The Mustang continued east on Manor for half a block. Then it made a sudden U-turn. It turned south onto Cherrywood, drove past me slowly, and made another U-turn, pulling up to the curb beside me. The driver rolled down the passenger window and beckoned me forward.
This was a little alarming. We were in a tough neighborhood and I didn't think he was stopping to ask directions.
As I approached the car, I heard the driver ask "Would you like a ride?"
"No thanks, I'm jogging," I said as I bent down to speak to him. The distant streetlight showed he was a handsome young black man, slender and well-muscled. His pants were unzipped and his penis was sticking straight up. It appeared to be a foot long and as thick as a baseball bat.
I stared for long seconds. My heart was hammering and I seemed to be having trouble breathing. It wasn't just the size of the member revealed by the glow of the dashboard lights. The unreality of the whole situation had me frozen in disbelief.
"Suck my dick," he said quietly. I didn't respond. I just continued staring. "Suck my dick . . . Please!" This time there was a note of pleading in his voice.
"OK." I opened the door and climbed into the car, marveling at how dumb this was but unable to stop myself.
"Do you have a place where we can go?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb.
"No." Even with the security around my apartment complex, I didn't want him to know where I lived.
We cruised around the neighborhood for a few minutes, looking for some place reasonably private. He was driving with one hand and stroking his erection with the other. After going through several apartment complex parking lots, we turned down an alley. We parked behind the service station on the corner of Manor and Cherrywood. There was a blank wall on one side of the Mustang and a big truck between us and the alley. Through the windshield, we could see the first touches of pink in the sky over a vacant lot.
He turned to face me, putting his right knee on the driver's seat. The roof was so low he had to bend forward, leaning over me. I unfastened his pants and pulled them open, exposing his balls. He was breathing hard and his cock was throbbing, even before I touched it. "Suck me now!" he commanded hoarsely, pushing his pole into my face.
I slipped my lips over his cock-head, which was already slick with pre-cum, and managed to take his glans and the first inch of his shaft inside my mouth. He immediately started trying to fuck my face, forcing his immense member forward and down my throat. My head rocked back under the impact. Before he could thrust again, I grabbed his dick to restrain him. Although my hands are big, my thumb and index finger wouldn't quite close around his massive tool.
By wrapping both hands side by side along the length of his shaft, I was able to control the violence of his thrusts. It was like riding a bucking bronco. My two-handed grip on his manhood allowed me to keep my mouth around his cock-head, licking and sucking while he tried to ram himself through the back of my throat. He was producing so much fluid, I could barely gulp it down.
My jockstrap was also getting sticky as my penis struggled against the confining fabric, but I couldn't spare a hand to reach inside my shorts and free it.
He suddenly stopped shoving his cock into my mouth. "Let me fuck you," he said. I froze. The thought of him jamming that monster pole up my ass was absolutely terrifying. No way! So why was my cock now fully erect, despite the restraints of my jockstrap?
"I really want to suck you off," I said and started licking his balls. He let me do that for a little while, then grabbed his pole and forced it back into my mouth. He began thrusting even more violently than before.
Suddenly, he screamed and started pumping cum into my mouth. It was like trying to drink from a fire hose. So much went down my throat that I almost choked, but a large quantity escaped the suction of my lips and flowed over my hands and his cock.
When he was finally spent, he pulled away and turned around to collapse in the driver's seat. He was panting and his eyes were closed.
My cock was still painfully stiff, so I took it out of my jockstrap. I didn't feel like beating off. I thought about asking him to suck me, but I didn't think he'd do it. I rubbed the bulge in my shorts and thought about getting out of the car and going home.
"Let me fuck you now," he suddenly said, sitting up and turning his head to look at me.
"No, you'll hurt me," I replied as I shrank away and reached for the door handle.
He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a squeeze tube of Vaseline. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll open you up real slow and easy."
"I don't think so," I replied.
"You say you don't want it, but something's telling me different." He pointed at the bulge in my shorts, which was now visibly throbbing.
Before I could respond, he got out of the car, ran around the back, opened the passenger door, and started rubbing my cock through my shorts. The confining fabric was already growing sticky and wet.
Still marveling at my behavior, I climbed out of the car and stripped off my tank top, shorts and jockstrap. That took a few seconds. When I turned to look at him again, he was already naked. He took me by the arm, pulled me to the back of the Mustang and bent me over with my hands on the trunk.
After the violence of his assault on my mouth, I was surprised that he kept his promise. He greased a finger and gently teased my asshole open. I started moving my hips, allowing the finger to slide in and out. After a while, I'd relaxed sufficiently to allow him to insert another finger and repeat the process. Soon there were three fingers, slightly spread, inside me.
His probing digits withdrew and I knew the moment of truth had arrived. A greasy finger entered me and carefully coated the inside of my asshole with Vaseline. The finger was removed and I felt the head of his massive tool pressing against my back door, gradually forcing it to open even wider than it had already been stretched.
I moaned with both pleasure and pain as he slid up my butt. I repositioned myself so one arm was supporting my body against the trunk and started slowly stroking my cock with my other hand. After an eternity, I felt his coarse thatch of public hair rubbing against my buttocks and realized that I had his entire length inside my ass.
He stayed there, not moving, while I practiced tightening and relaxing my anal muscles. After a couple of minutes, he began withdrawing as slowly and gently as he'd entered me.
He continued fucking me with long slow strokes. I had stopped jacking off, knowing that any extra stimulation would cause an immediate orgasm. He increased the tempo of his thrusts so gradually that I didn't notice any change until I suddenly realized that he was driving into me like a jackhammer and I was rocking my ass to conform to his violent motions.
We were both screaming. Suddenly, I felt jets of hot fluid splashing against my anal walls. Untouched, my cock began spraying cum onto the Mustang's trunk. Finally spent, I lowered my chest onto the sticky mess I had made on the Mustang's trunk. He collapsed on top of me, leaving me impaled on his gigantic love muscle.
He gradually softened and withdrew. I slowly lifted myself up and stretched to relieve my cramped muscles. He was still standing behind me. His chin was on my shoulder and his hands were wrapped around me, caressing my nipples. I arched my back and attempted to turn my head to kiss him. He moved his face away. I pulled away from him, turned around, and almost fainted.
A cop was standing about six feet away, staring at us with his hands on the leather belt circling his hips and a scowl on his face.
"You two are in a lot of trouble," he growled. "Public sex is a Class C Misdemeanor, which can get you jail time and a fine."
Sometimes I don't know when to keep quiet. "This isn't public," I replied. "We were alone until you showed up."
"It sure as hell isn't private if I can drive past and catch you doing it," the cop snarled. "I ought to haul you in right now. If it wasn't for the damn paperwork and court appearances, you'd already be cuffed in the back of my patrol car."
