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Train Spotting by J.A. Pierce
There were two things I hated about Atlanta – the heat and the Midtown MARTA station. The heat was a sweltering, smothering heat that, unlike everywhere else in the world, baked the city until well after sundown, and this particular day was no exception. It was a sweaty 88 degrees at 7:30 pm. I was not a happy camper, but things could have been worse.
The train station was something else entirely. It’s a well-known pick-up spot for, well, sex, and as my luck would have it, I was dependant on the train and the Midtown station was my stop. I’d never witnessed any “foul play” first hand, and although I’d always been intrigued by the idea of random, anonymous sex, today was not the day for it. Or at least not at that moment.
As I crossed the parking lot, going into the station, I was so happy to be going home. Bounding off the bus and walking toward the turn style, I couldn’t wait to undress and sit in front of my television while the central air unit blew gusts of frigid air around my nuts. Eagerly, I scanned my rail card and entered the station and that’s when I saw this man looking at - no, studying - me. He was standing at the opposite end of the station, propped against the northbound escalator’s wall. Looking like a lost college junior, he threw his head at me. I, in return, threw mine at him while I made my way to the southbound escalator. Right before I made my descend to the rail platform, I looked over my right shoulder. And sure enough, he was still watching me. For a brief second, I thought about turning around and investigating this brother, but I decided against it. I really needed to get home. My girl was waiting with a pot of spaghetti for me. I’d have to pass.
But apparently, he thought differently. After arriving at the southbound platform, I managed to find an empty bench and sat down. And there was ol’ dude, standing across the rails, on the northbound side, clearly looking in my direction. He was kind of aggressive. As hot as that may have been, it was a little disarming, especially when he approached the edge of the platform and yelled across the tracks.
“Yo!” He bellowed.
He couldn’t be talking to me. And if he was, I was not going to respond.
“Yo, man, wassup?!” His voice was bouncing off the sides of the
cavernous station. He was talking to me and everyone else on the platform. Thinking we could speak more quietly, I approached the train tracks.
“Where you headed?” he asked.
“Home.” I stated loudly.
“Where’s home?” he questioned, anxiously.
“East Point.” East Point, the area of town in which I lived, was about 20 minutes
south of Midtown, opposite his direction.
“Where?” He didn’t hear me. A train was in the tunnel approaching the southbound platform.
“East. Point,” I yelled louder, but the train was drowning me out.
“WHERE?” Damn his voice carried. Everyone was still in our faces, I
quickly realized, wondering what the hell was going on.
“East –” I’d had enough of this hollering so I took off jogging, darting around people, dashing up the stairs 3,4 at a time, scampering across the station’s street level, bounding down the stairs only to stop midway to get myself together and catch a breath.
After I gathered a breath or two, I descended the remaining stairs and walked up to old boy. I was glad I decided to come across the tracks. I was able to get a good look at him as I walked up to him. He was as tall as I was (5’10”), thickly built with big hands and forearms, which was such a turn-on. His face, which was the color of damp sand, was covered with a slight goatee and moustache and his eyes were deep and intense. He was very handsome, in a grown, I-got-a-job-and-a-house kind of way. In his nubuck Timberlands, baggy camouflage pants, black t-shirt, black backpack and black baseball cap, he swaggered over to me until he stood a breath away from me, looking me up and down, like he was sizing me up and about to take me down with a right jab. We must have looked like a pair of thugs about to fight, the way we stood close together facing each other, shoulder to shoulder, moving in a slow circle. But if anyone had watched closely, they would have seen our eyes meeting, him biting his bottom lip, me licking my top lip, and our matching smirks creeping across our faces.
“Not much, man. Wassup with you?” I replied, looking at his thick, bench-
“You, bruh. You and that ass,” he stated, eyeing my thighs.
“What you know about my butt, dude?” I said with a cocky smile.
“I know it’s phat. I saw the way your back pack was sitting on it.”
“Well, how’d you know I got down?” I asked, surprised by his previous
“It takes one to know one, man,” he said matter-of-factly.
“True, true. So where you going?” I asked, moving to stand next to him.
“To work. I work up at the AmeriSuites in Brookhaven. But I was looking
for a little something to take with me,” he said with a wink. “I don’t have to start work until 11.”
“Oh, aiight, cool.”
While giving my hind parts another once-over, he asked “You trying to roll?”
“What you packin'?” Although I was not big on size, a small dick would have made me go home. If I’m going to potentially disrupt my home life, at least have a nice-sized dick.
“I got 8 - thick, cut and curved.” Jackpot. “What about you?” he asked.
“I got 7 - cut.”
“Cool,” he said approvingly.
We boarded the train like two friends going to hang out. We sat down like two dudes going to meet their female dates for the evening – he sat in the set of seats behind me. With our feet in the aisle, we talked, which is something I’d never done with any other dude I’d freaked with. His name was Deric and he was 26. He was from the mid west, here to hopefully attend one of the historically black colleges in town. He was single. No diseases. He was an aspiring singer who loved thick, handsome dudes who looked like me – unassuming everyman-types that had girlfriends. He said he wasn’t looking for love, but wanted to be with someone really badly. By the time I started telling him about myself, my name, my girl and our relationship, and such, we were at the Brookhaven MARTA station.
“Aiight, man. This is us.”
After a short walk from the MARTA station to the AmeriSuites hotel, a few formalities at the front desk and a surprise (He wasn’t out so I had to stay outside the hotel until he came to get me.), we were standing at the door of room 622. As he scanned the room’s access card, I stood behind him getting another eyeful. Nice broad shoulders, a thick neck and a bald head. I was going to have fun with this dude and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.
As we stepped over the threshold into the basic room, he turned to face me. Before I could shut the door, his lips were planted on mine. Full and moist, his lips traveled around my mouth, his tongue slithered between his lips to taste the corners of my mouth, then darted between my lips to lick my tongue. Pulling his tongue into my mouth, I sucked it like it was a thick, wet dick, giving Deric a taste of what was to come. The more I sucked, the more he gave, until my lips were in his mouth, his lips were around my mouth, and the tip of his tongue was dancing on the root of mine. With my hands gripping his head and his arms wrapped around my wide back, we backed ourselves against the door, grunting and grinding, enjoying every wet second of this kiss.
“Damn you feel good, boy,” he sighed as he pulled away from me.
“You do, too, man,” I said, wiping my mouth. This must have shook me into reality, for I realized that I was standing in a hotel room, about to get down with this dude, instead of on my way home to eat my spaghetti.
“Let me call my girl right quick.”
I turned to head to the small desk across the room. Dialing our voicemail instead of the house line, I watched Deric as he silently took off his pants and shirt, to reveal that he was nude under his clothes. No under clothes at all, just flesh. Firm chest and arms, tight thighs and abs, he didn’t have a gym body as much as he had a life body, one that looked like he was a construction worker or a stock person at Home Depot. Occasionally, he’d throw seductive glances my way. Standing there naked, thick dick pointing toward me, he shook his head and licked his lips, as I hung up the phone.
“Wassup?” I asked as I turned from the telephone to face him.
“Your girl…she has no idea that you fuck wit’ dudes, does she?” he asked
“Nope. Why?” I asked, while I walked over to him.
“Poor thing. She has no idea some dude’s getting all that ass,” he said
with a smirk.
“Nope. She’s clueless.” I said, without remorse.
“She will tonight ‘cause I’ma send you home to her with your ass busted open,” he said while he stroked his thick dick.
“Oh for real?” I said as I knelt to suck his throbbing dick.
He replied, while looking down at me, “For real.”
I loved giving head. Something about having a dude to surrender his precious parts to me felt so powerful. Knowing that I had complete control over him swelled my ego. The more swollen my ego became, the better I sucked. Tonight I was in rare form, since Deric was a verbal brother. He moaned, groaned and whined as I inhaled his phat dick. He egged me on by telling me just what to do to him, how he liked it, and when I delivered, he’d let me know by releasing a low, resonating moan. The more I sucked, the thicker it got, until the point where it was so thick; I couldn’t get my hand all the way around it. His dick was the best I’d ever had, and I wanted him to know this. It tasted like a Sugar Daddy, my favorite childhood candy, and I wanted to taste every bit of it. With every suck, I tried to get more of his piece down my throat. Even after he palmed my head and gently pushed it into my mouth, I still only got three-quarters of it in. But I kept sucking, like his dick was leaking an energy elixir, and I was expiring from exhaustion. I needed his thick, slightly hooked dick, and he sensed this.
“Oh shit, let’s go to the bed,” he looked down at me and whispered.
Focused on my task, I ignored him, but he knew how to get my attention. He held my chin in his left hand, gripped his dick in his right, pulled slowly out of my mouth, and backed away from me. Like a dog being lured by a treat, I followed Deric’s dick mindlessly, until he let me suck him some more. A few more sucks and he repeated the dance, this time moving closer to the bed. I, like a crack fiend, followed his smoking pipe.
“You really like sucking my shit, don’t you?” he said through a chuckle.
“Hell yeah,” I said, as I engulfed his throbbing tool. I didn’t care what he thought. He was my piece for the evening and I was enjoying it, so much so that I was ready to try deep throating him again. I had to conquer this dick. So I opened my mouth wide, took a deep breath, closed my eyes and slid his throbbing dick into my mouth. When I opened my eyes, I was staring at his pubic hair, which was resting on my nose. With his dick still in my throat, I squeezed with my mouth and throat, then bobbed up and down on it, releasing half of it, then swallowing the whole thing, until his nuts were on my chin.
“Damn, you working my shit over,” he managed to say. “You gonna make me cum, man,” he said as he pulled out a third time, this time backing into the bed.
After he sat down on the bed’s edge, he lay down and motioned for me to get on top of him and ride him, but I had something else in mind. I crawled over him until my 7 inches was pointed at his mouth and I slid it in. Grinding his skull, I fucked his face, burying my dick in him like I buried it in my girl the night before. All seven inches of my “manhood”, sliding in and out of his wet mouth, felt alive. I heard him gagging and gasping for air but his mouth felt so fucking good that I couldn’t stop pumping. But he needed to breathe, I suppose, so he started slapping my ass.
“Damn dude, you trying to kill me or what? he spoke through heavy coughs.
“My bad, man. I just got carried away. You aiight?” I asked, as I repositioned my dick at his mouth.
“Yeah, but pay back’s a bitch, man,” he flirted.
“Bring it, nigga.”
And bring it he did. Sliding from under me and turning around, he let a glob of spit fall into my crack, moistened my hole, and pushed his way into my ass. His trunk-like tool spread my ass open, leaving me with that burning sensation. It filled me so perfectly that all I could do was lay there on my stomach, with my ass propped in the air, as he continued his assault on my ass, pumping it, making it bounce, slapping his nuts against mine. Damn.
After a while, Deric pulled out. Surveying the damage done to my hole, he began to play with it. Slapping my booty, making the cheeks shake back and forth, he plunged two fingers into my open ass and probed until he found my prostate.
“Oh, shit,” I muttered.
“You like that shit, huh?” he reveled.
“Hell, yeah,” I grunted, as he pushed harder.
Getting up on my knees so he could have greater access, he spread my
cheeks apart with his right hand while his left index and middle fingers sunk into my gushy ass.
“Damn, your ass is wet. This shit is dripping, bruh.”
“That’s ‘cause you playin’ wit’ it, man.” I wanted him back in my ass so badly.
“You want some more dick, don’t you?” he asked arrogantly.
“You want some more ass, don’t you?” I retorted, with more arrogance.
“Fuck yeah, nigga. Turn that ass over,” he growled.
On my back, with my legs in the air, I reached down and spread my cheeks
open. I wanted his dick as far in my ass as I could get it. He felt so good. Thickness is so underrated. He proved that. I could feel his head push against my taut pucker. He grabbed the back of my knees and pushed them until they were under my armpits. Then I felt the base of his trunk stretch out my asshole, filling me.
“Shit, man.” I sighed.
“Say my name, boy,” he demanded as he fucked me.
“Hell, no,” I protested. That made him pump harder.
“Say it, nigga,” he sternly grunted.
“Fuck you. Say my name,” I groaned as I clamped down on his shit.
“Damn baby.” He felt my ass tighten around his dick. That gets them every time.
“Say it, nigga,” I demanded.
“You gripping my shit, boy. You gonna make me nut, man.”
“Fuck that shit!” he yelled, as he jumped off me. “Get on top of this shit,
boy,” he barked, slapping my ass.
Without speaking, I climbed on top of Deric, eagerly trying to position myself so I could sit on his dick as quickly as possible. With my legs quivering, I managed to squat over him and lower myself onto his shaft as he held onto my thick ass.
“Ride my shit, Adrian.”
“What? What you say, boy?” I asked, needing him to tell me how good my ass was.
“Ride my dick, boy,” he groaned.
“Say it again, nigga,” I demanded.
“Shit, Adrian. Your ass is good. Ride it, baby.”
“You like this ass, huh?” I had him right where I needed him to be – in my ass and under its spell.
“Hell yeah, man. You ‘bout to milk me,” he breathed.
“Good. Say my name, boy”
“Yeah, Adrian. Make me cum baby.”
“Gimme that nut, boy.”
“Fuck, Adrian. I’m cumming!”
That’s all I needed to hear. I dropped my ass down on his pelvis, vice-gripped his dick, and moved my hips in quick, circular motions. He winced and squealed and screamed for me to stop, but he didn’t mean it, because all the while he was stroking my dick, trying to get me to join him in ecstasy. After a few more strokes, I joined him with my own powerful orgasm. Calling out to him, my load leaped from my dick and landed on his neck, leaving a trail from his Adam’s apple to his navel. Exhausted, I leaned over until his limp dick slid out of my ass and I lay on the wet bedspread next to him.
“Damn, I didn’t think you’d work me over like that,” he panted, as we lay there drenched with sweat.
“Surprised you, huh?”
“Hell yeah, man. You got time to chill, or do you need to head home?”
“Yeah, I better get out of here. It’s getting late. Is it cool if I take a shower?”
“Yeah, man. Handle your business.”
I rolled off the pillow top mattress and headed toward the shower. Deric reached out and slapped my ass as I walked past him. As I stood at the toilet, emptying my bladder, I heard him say, “We need to get up again, man.”
“Yeah, we do. I’ll give you my number before I leave, man,” I yelled back as I turned on the hot water.
As I opened the shower curtains, the steam piled into the bathroom, quickly filling it with thick, white puffs of warm air. I stepped into the shower, wincing with pain as the hot needles hit my foot and ankle. After I entered the shower, I adjusted the water and let it rinse the evening’s dirt off my body. As I prepared the white washcloth for soaping, I saw a shadow of Deric standing in the doorway, stroking his hardening dick.
“You need some help washing your back?”