The Second Offer

Thursday morning I logged into Manhunt and almost immediately got an email there from an out-of-towner. I hear you’re a great top, he wrote.

Oh yeah? I asked back. Who’s been blabbing?

He named the profile of a top buddy I’ve teamed up with at a couple of bareback parties. The two of us are pretty open about sharing names of good prospects, not to mention holes together, so I wasn’t really surprised it was him. Scarcely had I read the note when the guy started instant messaging me:

mascdiscreet: i loved your bone shots

mascdiscreet: and cum ones

mascdiscreet: woof

mascdiscreet: what you up to today?

>> sounds like I might be fucking you

>> I only fuck bareback though

mascdiscreet: god i hope so stud

mascdiscreet: you host or looking to travel?  free time today?

mascdiscreet: can make it worth your time $ir

This is where my interest really perked up.

>> oh yeah?

mascdiscreet: yes for sure

>> what're we talking about

mascdiscreet: i really REALLY need a fuck

mascdiscreet: $100

mascdiscreet: ?

If there’s anything I learned in my teens about negotiating cash for sex, it’s never to go with the first offer. I waited about fifteen seconds, and he came back with another price:

mascdiscreet: $125

>> I don’t know, man, I’m kind of busy today. . . .

mascdiscreet: $200

>> that’ll work. we've got a deal.

mascdiscreet: you still bearded now?

>> yep

mascdiscreet: hot

mascdiscreet: is that really your body in the pics? you look so thin

>> that’s me

mascdiscreet: love that

mascdiscreet: you verbal or not so much?

>> depends on the vibe

mascdiscreet: i am all about pleasing the guy’s dick

>> what hotel are you in?

mascdiscreet: i dont have one, was just coming down for a meeting.....and was thinking about asking if you'd be into doing it in my van. its a cargo van, we can fuck in the back. but i think there is a red roof in right by my meeting, if thats cool?

>> if we do the van, I’m only dropping the pants

>> but you'll be stripping all the way. got it?

mascdiscreet: hot

>> and you're paying up front.

I negotiated to meet him in the parking lot of a mall out in Novi, about a half hour away. I got there first, and found myself a spot in a quieter area of the parking lot, right near an aisle marker so he could find me easily. He arrived about ten minutes after me, circling my car with his gray cargo van a couple of times before pulling to a stop right beside me. Through the rainy window I could see him nod, gesture to his unlocked door, and disappear in the back.

I joined him in the van’s rear, where he’d covered the windows with towels and laid a thick rug on the floor. The guy looked just like his Manhunt pictures, so there weren’t any nasty surprises. Handsome face—very masculine and clean, strong features. Younger than me by two years, according to his profile. A seven-inch, fat dick surrounded by pubes that had never seen a clipper. His body was big and ungainly; he had to weigh about two-thirty-five or two-fifty, but his frame was broad enough that he carried it well enough. And like I said, the face was handsome, so when it dipped down next to mine, wanting to give me a kiss, I welcomed it.

And man, could he kiss well. Beautiful soft lips, long, lingering sucking action—just perfect. I grabbed his hand and put it on my dick, which was hard and snaking down my left pants leg. “You got something for me?”

“In my jacket.” When I raised my eyebrows and cocked my head, he murmured, “Oh. Yeah. Okay,” and went to get it. He counted out the twenty dollar bills and waited. I nodded, stuffed the cash in my pocket, and we went back to making out.

“Get out of your clothes,” I told him. I rubbed my dick through the denim while he scrambled out of his plaid shirt and khakis. The guy had a furry chest and huge, eraser-sized nipples. “Now get out your poppers.” His eyes barely left mine as he grabbed at a little black satchel that he unzipped. “Take a hit.” He unscrewed the little brown bottle and breathed in deeply through his right nostril. I shook my head when he tried to put the cap back on. “Now the other one,” I told him.

“It’s going to drive me crazy if I do that,” he said. I shrugged. I can be a bit of a dick when I’m being paid. He obeyed, though. When he moved in to kiss me again, the fumes reeked out of his nose and mouth into my own. I reached down and felt between his legs—he’d already greased up his hole for me.

“All right,” I said, struggling to a half-leaning, half-sitting position. “Sit back and see what you bought.” I’d already removed my hoodie. I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and pulled them down around my ankles. I was wearing a tight blue T-shirt with a deep V-neck, no trunks, the jeans, and a pair of beat-up old Converse, as well as two rubber cock rings. I did look pretty hot, for me. Hell, I would've done me. Anyway, I was hard and already precumming, so when I started stroking for him, my hand made slick noises up and down the shaft.

The van was quiet save for rain on the rooftop and the sound of my stroking. “Fuck,” he said at last. “Your body is even better than your photos. What’s your waist size?”

“Twenty-nine, thirty,” I said.

He looked at my wedding ring. “How long have you been married?”

“Twenty years.”

“To a woman?” I nodded. “I’m gay. Partnered. Fifteen years. He doesn’t like sex. Especially anal sex. He thinks it’s dirty. Have you been paid for this before?”

“Are you paying me to talk?” I asked. “Because I’m still waiting for you to please my cock.” Like I said, I’m apparently a little bit of a dick when I’m getting paid.

That was his cue to start sucking. The guy was good, but I could’ve told he didn’t had much sex with that partner of his, because he could only suck for about ten seconds at a time before getting overexcited and having to pull back. He was a choker, too. He’d try to take me to the base, and then figure out too late that he wasn’t experienced enough to handle it. “Oh god,” he said, after gagging for the third time. “I need that in me.”

“Then let’s do it.” I got him onto his knees and bent him over while I rubbed some lube from his satchel on my dick. After instructing him to take another hit of the poppers, I let my dick nose around his hole until it found its way in. He kept saying he hadn’t been fucked in six months, but it didn’t matter. After a few hits of poppers, he was loose and hungry for it.

And also way, way overexcited. He was going to shoot any second. “Oh fuck,” he grunted once I was in. “I’m going to want to see more of you. I want to get a hotel room and fuck all day with you. Would you do it?”

“If you’re paying,” I told him, fucking away.

“You take real good care of a guy who takes care of you,” he gasped out, a couple of words at a time. “I can tell.”

“You take care of me.” I could tell that he was getting closer and closer to the edge, because his big body was jerking and spasming as he grabbed at his cock more and more furiously. “I take care of. . . .”

I didn’t even finish my sentence before he started shooting. The first rope sprayed out and hit the wall above the wheel well. The rest splatted on the rug. His ass squeezed my cock out before his groans had stopped. I was surprised when he winched himself around and began cleaning my dick with his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he said a minute later, when he was holding me in his arms and making out with me. “Fucking incredible.”

I’d zipped back up by then, but he was still naked. We made out for a little bit. Since he was still clearly horny, I sucked on his enormous nipples and talked dirty about how hungry his hole had been for my raw dick until he was hard again. It didn't take long. He grabbed a hand towel, spread it across his belly, and furiously jacked out another load while I bit and squeezed. Then I gave him a final kiss, grabbed my sweatshirt, and left.

I hadn’t even gotten out of the parking lot before he texted me. Wow and thanks!!!, he said. That was awesome. How much would it take to get you alone in a hotel room for an afternoon?

We can negotiate it when the time comes, I texted back. Set it up.

I could swing 300 in cash and 200 in gas cards, he messaged, if you take care of me real good.

That’s a start, I told him, and let him begin thinking about that all-important second offer.

What can I say? I make my living as an artist. We artists can always use the money.

(An image has been removed to comply with Blogger's

draconian new censorship policies: 2/26/15)