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Home > Features > Stories: It's Too Big

(posted February 17, 2006)

Assault Weapon

by Michael Roberts

He looked as if he could bite me in two, chew me up, and spit out the pieces. He looked as if he would enjoy that. If I’d had any sense, I would have been intimidated. I was intimidated, but I didn’t have any sense. So I continued to walk toward him.

At first, he was watching me, but he appeared disinterested. As I got closer, his eyes narrowed as though he might be curious to see if I would finish my advance. Then, one of his eyebrows rose slightly, and the left side of his lips curled into a sneer.

Activity in the sex club slowed. I doubted I personally was the focus of all the men’s attention. I’m not that vain. They just wanted to see what happened when I made contact with this man leaning indolently against the wall, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans emphasizing a sizeable bulge at his crotch. I’d seen this man several times in the club, and he seemed to have a certain mystique, to exude an aura of “approach me at your peril.” Well, never let it be said that I dodged a challenge, or a peril.

The object of my fascination was a Latino man about my age, in his early thirties. He couldn’t really have been called handsome, but he was magnetic in a rough, jagged way. To me, he was irresistible. When I was standing in front of him, we stared at each other for a moment. Then he asked in a tone that somehow combined insolence and indifference, “You want something?”

“I want you to fuck me. That’s what I want.”

His smile and sneer became a smeer.

“You do?” he said, not as a simple question, but rather as a comment on the fact that he considered my request extremely foolish.

“I do.”

He unzipped his jeans, hauled out his cock, and laid it in one of his hands.

“You’re sure about that?”

“Holy,” I said, “shit.”

His cock was beyond large, beyond huge. Using a ruler to determine the length would have been useless; it required a tape measure, a very long tape measure.

“Yeah, holy,” he said mockingly, “shit.”

He started to put his hefty hunk of meat back in his jeans.

“Hang on there!” I insisted. “Did I say I’d changed my mind?”

He looked at me as if he was considering his options, one of which was knocking me into the middle of next week.

“You still want to get fucked?”

“More than ever.”

“Once I start, I’m not gonna stop, not till I’m finished.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He took off his clothes and put them in a locker. I put my clothes in a locker next to his. When we faced each other again, he was completely erect, although “erection” is an inadequate word to describe the colossus he was sporting. “Erection” would be like saying King Kong was a monkey. His dick had gained inches in its expansion, both in length and thickness. I had a quick but serious talk with myself. Was this really what I craved, to be mounted on this immense rod like a rotisserie chicken? Sure, I was getting carried away with zoological comparisons, but yes, this definitely was what I wanted.

“My name’s Eduardo,” he said. “So you know what to call me when you want me to stop.”

“I’m Jeremy,” I replied. “So you know what to call me when you want to thank me for being such a great fuck.”

“On your back, Jeremy. I like to see the faces of the guys I’m fucking.”

I lay down on a pallet. He knelt at my feet.

“Well, you gonna open that door?”

Evidently, there was still a small part of me that wasn’t looking forward to being skewered and was trying to keep the entryway covered. At least my dick was rigid. At least some part of me anticipated being impaled. I spread my legs.

“It’s open.”

He put his hands on my knees and put the tip of his long, hard cock between my buttocks. My hole contracted in fearful anticipation. He ran his cockhead over my crack.

“Last chance, buddy,” he said. “You want out?”

“Take your best shot,” I challenged him.

Part of me wanted to jump up, throw on my clothes, and run. Part of me wanted, needed to be impersonally, primitively fucked. He smiled coolly, then pushed inside me. The last time, the only time, I’d felt pain like that was when I’d stabbed myself with a knife while cutting an apple. I gasped. I hadn’t intended to gasp. I’d intended to be impressively impassive, but invasion by an appendage the scale of his had rendered nonchalance out of the question. His smile widened into a grin as my hole tried to widen to admit more of him.

He slid back and forth inside me. I felt each stroke as if it was a new attack, a fresh sting. Part of me wanted to say, “No more, Eduardo.” But my dick was firm in its necessity for Eduardo to continue. And so Eduardo continued. I looked down at his cock. I was shocked to see how much remained outside me, how much more was waiting to assault me.

“Go on, then, fuck me!”

A crowd had gathered. I was at the mercy of Eduardo and his dick of terror. And in my nakedness, I was at the mercy of all the men who surrounded us. When I’d been in this club before, I had unfastened my pants to get a blowjob. Or I’d been on my knees with my prick in my hand as I held someone’s cock in my mouth. I’d even lowered my pants to fuck some guy’s ass. But not like this. I wanted to stop this. I couldn’t have stopped it if I had tried.

Just as the pain lessened or as my tolerance for the pain increased, Eduardo slipped more of his cock into me. I knew he had gone further by the filling of my bowels, but when I looked down at his cock in my asshole, the part that waited outside seemed just as great as it had been before. His cock was endless. And for a few seconds, it seemed that Eduardo’s grin reached literally from ear to ear.

“Enjoying this, Jeremy?”

“Yeah, Eduardo, I’m just waiting for the good stuff.” I giggled.

Eduardo responded by stuffing more of himself into me. The ache began again. He glided back and forth, back and forth, slowly, rhythmically. He was creating such a friction in my internal tubing that I could feel the heat radiating outward. I closed my eyes and immersed myself in the intensity of the cock glistening inside me. The movement stopped. I waited. The instant I opened my eyes, he shoved more of himself into me, as if he just wanted to make certain that I hadn’t dozed off during his slow screwing.

I glanced around me. The spectators were as entranced as if they had never seen anyone fucked before. Again, I giggled. Again, as if Eduardo thought I was laughing at him, he pressed himself further up my carnal canal. This time, he was more insistent, wanting to confirm the firmness and the solidity of his relentless fucking. His eyes were glowing just like his cock was glowing in my guts as he thrust inward and outward. His cock and the tortuously slow ingress were endless. How long had this been going on? I felt such a throbbing all along my lower body. It was unendurable. It was astounding. It was wonderful. It was excruciating. I couldn’t bear it and I didn’t want it ever to stop.

And then, with a sharp exhalation, as he propelled his prick further, I felt, or I thought I felt, his pelvis against my backside and the fuzzy scrape of his pubic hair. Could it be? I looked down at his crotch. Yes, he was all the way inside me. All his inches and meters and kilometers and yards inside me. His pitiless, unyielding prick was planted to its root inside me, in my raw, chafed, tender ass.

There was a pause. He closed his eyes and rested. All was calm. And then his eyes popped open like the swift rising of a curtain, and he sped into the second act. If act one had been about the measured raid of seemingly every fraction of my body (for it felt as if Eduardo’s cock was imbedded in me from head to toe), act two was about force and velocity.

With no warning, Eduardo began to really fuck me. Yes, he had been fucking me before, but that had only been the prelude. That was the appetizer; this was the main course. Suddenly, he was plunging in and out of me at a pace and ferocity that took my breath away. He slammed and smashed and crashed and hurtled his cock through me with such force that I thought I couldn’t endure. This was going to finish me. This I couldn’t survive.

In the frenzy of this fucking, Eduardo, the pallet, and I went skidding along the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see feet frantically evading us like cars running from an out-of-control vehicle as it careens down the highway. My head hit the wall and hit the wall and hit the wall. But Eduardo would not stop. His fucking impelled me upward. My ass ascended as his steam engine cock descended down down down between my scalded spheres until I was resting on my shoulders and the heels of my feet were planted against the wall. As if he had waited until he knew I was in a position to witness his new technique, he pulled all the way out of me and then pitched himself all the way into me. And all the way out and all the way in. And all the way out and all the way in, like an arrow sent winging to strike the target.

I really was not going to last much longer. I wouldn’t merely split in half. I would break until I was like a cracked vase shattered on the floor. Or I would dissolve into powder and sift over everything. I was no longer in pain. I was on the brink of unconsciousness, about to miss the final scene. I was in a delirious, delicious agony. This had to end because my end couldn’t take it any more. Where did he find his energy, his power? Where was I going to find the stamina, the fortitude to carry on?

My cock hurt too, from the assault on my body, from the wellspring building inside. Eduardo was massaging not only my sensitive prostate gland with his mighty pole but also my liver, my heart, and my trachea. His cock was fire, and it was igniting me. I was a mass of internal combustion waiting to go up in a conflagration that would destroy him and me and everything around us. Yes, this had to stop and yes, this had to go on. He was his cock and I was his cock and I was nothing more than his cock. I was going to explode and rain down on him and all of the panting, perspiring spectators.

Eduardo stopped in mid stroke, half in, half out. He began puffing loudly. He drove down all the way into me with a punch that I was positive was going to splinter me, and he yelled and he came and he shot inside me, and my exhilarated extremity, my demented dick exploded. My sperm cascaded down on my face and into my hair and into my mouth. Eduardo continued to yell and he shook and it felt as if a waterfall of cum was streaming into my ass while a cascade of cum was gushing all over me.

While everything dripped into an extremely sticky mess, Eduardo and I hung suspended. I was left spiked on his cock, which, even as it was softening, held me up. Then, as if on cue, we collapsed together into an untidy heap on the floor. We lay there intertwined for a while until we had enough energy to extricate ourselves. Eduardo’s cock hung supple and shimmering. He picked some tufts of debris off his dick.

“You didn’t do too bad,” he told me.

“You either.”

We got dressed. I didn’t move very fast. I felt as if I had been put through a shredder. When we both had our clothes back on, we shook hands like gentlemen at the end of a good deal. It was an incongruous close to our fervent union. There wasn’t any use in saying that we’d have to do this again sometime. The challenge for both of us had been met. The magic was gone. There was nothing more.

Previous Stories from "It's Too Big":

Look here every Thursday for a new installment in an ongoing series of themed anthologies.

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