Jake

By Also Known As 
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• Latest update: 7 September. Next update: 21 September. (Submissions welcome.)

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What first attracted me to him was what would attract anyone to him. He was gorgeous. I mean, not your run-of-the-mill male model gym-honed cosmetically perfected beauty, but that something you can't quite put your finger on until later. When it dawns on you as you're lying next to someone and they're asleep and quiet and you find yourself looking at them in that pause of time when you aren't worried about whether your conversation is intelligent or if there's something in your nose and so on and you're almost alone, allowed to be, so to speak, and this other person is there with you but not aware and awake and you realize that they're perfect.

That part would come later. As for now, I entered the Starbucks that early Monday morning with no expectations for anything other than a double non-fat latte when I spotted the wide, tapering back of a man who stood out even from that angle, without benefit of a face or form. He wore a ribbed cotton shirt that clung just right, neither too tight as if to announce in a loud voice how long he spends at the gym, now so loose that it looked as if he couldn't really dress himself. His thick neck erupted from the collar like a tree trunk, and his dark hair was well-groomed, clipped and blocked.

I was three people back. It seemed as if I alone noticed him, though how anyone could ignore someone so imposing was beyond me. Could these people really be so oblivious that they can't even tell that a god was among them.

On the other hand, it had been weeks since I had any so “horny” doesn't even begin to describe my state of mind.

It was when I heard his voice that I actually felt my knees going weak. He said, distinctly and in tones that reminded me of thunder or ground movement, “Coffee, please. Black.” The young woman behind the counter nodded, repeated the order, took his money and, again, seemed to take no special notice of him. What was wrong with her, anyway? Surely she was not like the walking dead around me.

He turned then as he completed his order and I saw his face for the first time. Again, gorgeous. The epitome of masculine beauty. Angular features, a shadow of a beard as if the razor couldn't keep up with him, a heavy brow, full lips slightly parted with a smile as he folded his change into his wallet and then, there, the rounded strength of his arm swelling as he bent it to place that lucky wallet next to his tight, round ass.

For a moment, our eyes met. He had caught me checking him out, my eyes rising up from his bulging basket to meet his dark-hued gaze and he, unblinking, the smile on his lips expanding, twisting up at the corners, and the subtlest of nods to me. He brushed my arm as he passed, slightly taller than I, smelling clean and dirty at the same time.

I swear I felt his hand against my butt, the knuckles caressing me ever so slightly, and I looked back like a good fag to see if he was looking back, too.

No, he was not. Instead, he stood there, arms crossed, literally staring at me.

I could have come on the spot. A thrill of fire shocked me from head to toe being caught like that, and also realizing that he had picked me out. A quick fuck? Could I fit that in before going back to my cubicle and computer? Where could we do it? My mind was racing and I hadn't realized that the line had moved until someone tapped my shoulder and it was my turn with the blonde at the counter.

I knew her name and she knew mine. I was a regular. And always ordered the same thing, which was lucky because at the moment all the blood had rushed from my head to my prick and all I could think of was him. But she said, “Double non-fat latte, as usual, Tom?” I heard her and managed a nod. I had money in my hand, she took it, gave some back. I was done, but forgot what came next.

That's when I heard his voice for the second time, and this time it went right to me crotch because he said my name. “Tom, you're holding up the line.”

I looked over and he stood leaning against the CD display. His arms bulged, his shoulders a mile wide, and that shirt that was loose before had gathered itself against his six-pack abs. He was still smiling as I approached him. His eyes never left mine. “Hey,” I said quietly.

He offered his hand, and said, “Jake.” His hand was callused, his grip was firm, his skin was warm. “You look a little lost, Tom.”

“Sorry,” was all I could think to say. I wanted to just stand there forever and look at this man. He was perfect, and so beautiful. Almost unreal.

His gaze now fell along my body as he checked me out. I suddenly wished I'd dressed a little more, well, tightly. This was definitely not my best look. There was no one at work worth dressing for, but this guy was a different case. “So,” he said, lifting his eyes to mine again, “where can we go?”

“Huh?”

He shrugged slightly, those mountains called shoulders bunching and releasing. I imagined the shirt ripping open under the challenge. “I want to fuck you.” He said it simply, and not quietly. I huffed out a breath and felt my mouth go dry. “I know you want to fuck me. You want to see me naked, right Tom? You want to suck my dick inside your mouth and lick my ass. You want to rip this shirt off my chest and twist my nipple until I cry out.”

“I—”

“And I want to hold you in my arms and kiss you hard and deep and true. I want you to feel me inside you, every thick inch. And I am packing, Tom. I have the biggest cock you've ever dreamed of.”

“Jesus.”

“Coffee! Black!”

“That's me,” he said, moving around me and taking his cup o' Joe. His ass was beautiful. He turned back, sipping from his cup, his eyes pulling me to him. I was spellbound and dumbfounded. One of his hands held the cup of coffee, and the other was cupping his ample bulge, squeezing his dick and balls. I could see his member digging down his pant leg as he played with himself. He wasn't exaggerating about what he owned. He was massive. It looked like his zipper was going to burst. “So?” He growled at me like a caged beast.

I was looking around the coffee shop to see who was watching this. And no one was, not a single other soul. Were they purposefully ignoring this man, this huge muscular beauty who seemed seconds away from opening his fly and whipping out his stiff, hard cock and stroking himself to full mast? I nodded. I didn't care where we did it. Let's do it here, over there on Starbuck's couch, on that rug, here on the cold tile. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me hard and deep and true. Make me scream and force the come from my balls. Jesus fucking Christ, what was this guy doing to me?

“Low fat grande latte!”

He stood there. So did I. He reached over and took my coffee in his other hand, the lucky one that had been squeezing his dick moments before, and he turned toward the exit carrying my latte with him.

What could I do but follow?

Watching his butt move was another pleasure in itself. As he walked, the globes of his ass shifted and flexed. His jeans grabbed onto his rounded flesh like I wanted to, hugging his contours tightly so that little was left to the imagination. He turned slightly and nudged the door open with one of those huge shoulders, nodding at me to follow. Then we were outside on the sidewalk, he and I, and he handed me my coffee and took another drink of his own. “You don't say very much,” he deeply intoned, “but with a body like your you don't have to.” He leaned toward me and kissed me there on the street. Still, no one took notice, and I did not live in a city known for its open-minded attitude. Hetero couples would get scornful glances for so forward a gesture, but as the kiss lingered and I felt his tongue playfully pushing between my lips, and I opened my mouth to let him inside and we went deeper, still, into the hot wet juiciness of it, people passed us without so much as a glance, and the men at the tables and the woman with the dog and the teens making noise as they crossed the street all went on with their live oblivious to us.

Had I entered a dreamworld of some kind? He broke off the kiss and set his coffee down on a nearby table, one already occupied with a couple who spoke in quiet tones and looked only at each other, barely able even to clasp hands, and suddenly his hands were all over me. He cupped my ass and dug his fingers in deep, pulling me hard against him. I could feel his dick between us, he was growing hard and huge and my own prick filled up and shoved against my kalkis. He dived in again, plunging his tongue into my welcoming mouth. I dropped my latte, overcome, heard it splash and slosh all over and ignored it, all my concentration on him, this man, and what was happening.

Suddenly I felt his hand on my chest. He'd pulled my shirt untucked and moved his touch along my body. There were his fingers on my nipple, plucking and rubbing, and I felt that erotic electric shock travel direct to my hardening dick. A sexual thrill ran through me, my balls tingled and now he was undoing my belt.

Talented, he was. One hand was behind my neck, holding our lips in that lingering, passionate kiss and the other was unbuckling me and now pulling my pants open and digging down inside my shorts, roughly, pulling me free, tugging my hot hardness into the open air. He broke the kiss and looked down, smiling, then at me again and said, “Mmm, yeah, I knew you'd be huge.” His voice was low but not hushed. My hands crawled under his shirt and found the heavy mounds of his pecs. He had melons under there, thick and muscular. I felt him move, felt his muscle flexing under his warm, sleek skin.

Now he spit a gob into his hand and set his fist to my dick, jerking me off as he kissed me hard. I found his thick nipples and grabbed hold, twisting and pinching them hard like I knew he wanted. He moaned into my mouth and his kiss became hungrier, more insistent, deeper still.

There we stood outside the Starbuck's near my office. He had pulled out my dick and my pants were barely hanging onto my hips, I had my hands under his shirt torturing his nips and we kissed deep and true, two men, near to fucking, and still no one did a thing. No one was watching, no one broke stride as they passed, but they clearly had to move around us. He was huge, and I'm not exactly small, either. This registered somewhere in my head and made me hotter still. How far could we actually go? Why was this happening? Who was this guy, and would he fuck me first or would I do him?

I was getting so hot that I think even if the world ended, I would not have noticed. The world around us seemed to move on as if we didn't exist. I felt powerful, magical, I could feel his hands on me, and feel the air on my skin. My spilled latte was on my kalkis and now I felt that, too, hot and wet. Now he broke the kiss and ours eyes met. We were both breathing hard, I could feel his muscled chest expand with every intake, feel his muscles flexing. I wanted to see him naked, see his body in its glory, but before I could speak he was on his knees and now his mouth was swallowing me, sucking against my stiff heat, licking my head and shaft and sucking deeply.

My hands, left with nothing to grasp, kneaded the air. My eyes rolled back in my head as the intense pleasure he delivered shook me entirely. He shoved my pants down to my ankles and moved his hands back up my legs, over my calves and behind my knees, inching upwards until he grabbed my cheeks in his firm hands and moved a talented digit against the softness of my hole. He teased me as he sucked me, small circles around before moving inside gently, very gently.

My toes curled. My dick stretched. The couple at the table stood and started away from us, another couple sat down to occupy the table. The door to Starbuck's opened and a fat man emerged, stuffing his face with a croissant. Jake had two fingers inside me and I adjusted my stance to allow easier entry. He looked up at me, his mouth full of my cock, his lips shiny with my juice. I was moaning loudly, gulping air, sweat poured off my skin, my shirt was soaked and sticking to me so I pulled it off, over my head, and tossed it aside, now naked from the ankles up.

I felt Jake's mouth leave my cock and looked down. He was stripping his shirt off, too. His shoulders bunched and separated, the muscles distinct and bulging. My god, his chest was huge. I was shaking with desire, someone passed to my right and said, “Excuse me,” and I nodded, I think. Jake rose slowly to his feet, undoing his jeans as he rose. He was two or three inches taller than I, he stank of sex and sweat, and as he shoved his pants down his body his fat prick bounced and wavered, looking a foot long at least.

“Bend over,” he said. I didn't need to be asked twice. I mounted the table, the couple took their coffees up just in time, and he entered me, shoving in deep and all at once. He started fucking me hard, the whole table moving. My ass burned, he was huge, he filled me entirely and I felt something give, suddenly squirting my load on the table, unable to stop, it was shoved from me as he pounded my ass, pounded my prostate. God, so good, so hard and perfect.

He was grunting, deep and loud. “Fuck me!” I yelled. “Fuck me harder!” I watched some women across the street window-shopping. My balls emptied and my cock tingled, still.

“Take it, boy. Take me on. You'll feel me inside you for days. Weeks. I'll always be there.” I felt his weight, his thick heavy muscles as the pressed against me and his breath heated my neck, his tongue licked my ear. “I'll be with you always, Tom. Always.” He shoved himself fully up my tortured ass and I felt his heat as he came, pumping his lava inside my guts. I moaned deeply and rolled my eyes up and collapsed against the table, wondering how the legs held us up, him on top of me creaming his load in my ass.

“Oh, god,” I whispered. “Oh my God.”

“Sir?”

I opened my eyes. The young kid at the counter was looking at me. My latte sat on the countertop. I felt something hot and wet in my crotch. My dick was hard as steel. “Uh—” I looked around. The line was looking at me. Two guys, college types, were laughing as they glanced at my crotch. My ass ached and felt hot and wet and worked hard. “Sorry,” was all I could think of.

I heard the door close and turned, watching the wide shoulders and tight little ass of the man I knew as Jake walking away. He glanced back, for a moment, and smiled at me. I think he winked, too, and then he adjusted himself in his trousers and disappeared.

I left my coffee on the counter and made a dash for the door.

When I got outside, there was no sign of him.


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