Originally published in Honcho magazine - October, 1993
Big bruiser reforms misguided youth in London.
The alarm woke Keith at ten at night. A bouncer at a nightclub, he'd spent the afternoon lifting weights at the gym, then gone home for sleep. He felt a mild strain in his shoulders and legs, but it was worth it. The mirror told him that. Being a bouncer suited him right down to the ground. The hours were anti-social, but what a relief after months of unemployment. The added benefit was a regained self-respect and a new untapped surplus of compassion.
The walk to his new job at Katrina Casino in the heart of the West End of London was a pleasant thirty minutes.
London turned into a strange animal after midnight and Keith loved it. He knew he was more than well equipped to tame it.
As he walked at a leisurely pace, his long flaccid cock swung from side to side with each step in his loose Harem trousers. The free fall of his substantial equipment provoked a rising churn of erotic juices.
Being in no rush, he took a detour through the small residential side streets. Suddenly he heard glass shatter, and a heavy thud. He stopped. The sound came from the alleyway he had just passed. He backtracked and peered round the corner.
A tall male silhouette blocked the passage halfway down. Keith slotted his large frame into the narrow lane and swaggered down. His beefy shoulders barely left six clear inches to the brick walls.
The young man froze as he watched Keith's darkened bulk roll toward him. He was nineteen at the most, with a scarf over his head like a pirate, wearing a conspicuous gold Gypsy earring, a denim jacket with no shirt underneath, and baggy running pants. His bare torso was as smooth as his face. He clutched a bag in his arms.
Keith was only too familiar with that guilty look in the young Anglo-Jamaican's eyes and promptly gave him chase. They ran like seasoned sprinters.
The youth disappeared at the other end of the passage, into the darkness of the common and through some bushes. Keith charged after him. The growth led to the open green on one side and to more undergrowth and trees on the other. Keith knew this part like the back of his cock. He had cruised there often enough. The poor guy had not picked the best hiding place.
Keith halted by the hollowed trunk and listened. The young guy couldn't be very far. A twig cracked. Keith pressed himself against the tree. The young man carefully crept round on the opposite side, unsure as to where his pursuant had gone, and still clutching his loot in his arms. He edged his way around the tree. Keith stepped back, aware of his progression.
The tension crystallized between the bouncer's legs. His fat dingbat climbed inside the baggy trousers. He waited a few seconds and heard rustling sounds. Then he stepped from behind the tree. The young man let out a short exclamation of shock.
Keith made a move toward him and the stranger made a run for it. Keith was on top of him like a lion on a startled gazelle. He lunged and the pair crashed into the dusty, leaf-strewn ground.
"Don't hurt me! Don't hurt me!" yelped the young man.
"Who said I was going to hurt you?" replied Keith.
The young man tried to break free from Keith's grip by kicking his legs. Keith pulled on them, dragging the young man on his stomach toward him. He folded the arms behind the sharp shoulder blades and sat on the young rounded ass.
"So! What were you doing breaking out through a window? Visiting a friend and leaving before you outstayed your welcome?" inquired Keith sarcastically. The firm ass was hot under his balls. His cock was stretched to its eight fat inches.
"You're not the police, so let go of me!" shouted th e young man. He wriggled under Keith. His body felt lithe and firm and energetic.
Keith turned the young guy over and pinned his arms over his head while immobilizing the fresh tapering thighs beneath by sitting on them. There was no way the young man could budge Keith's one hundred and eighty pounds of worked-out brawn. "Well, well, well. I'll bet you've done this before."
The young man arched his back as hard as he could and Keith felt a hardening bulge push its heat against him.
"I ain't done nothin'!"
"Don't give me that crap! No point in playing innocent with me, young sir. I've been there. Believe me, you could be in a lot more serious trouble than this. You never know who is lurking round these parts, and I don't just mean the police."
The young man writhed some more. His young cock was as stiff as a pastry roller. Keith could feel it pressed against his groin.
"So, what is it? Silver? Jewelry? Cash?" Keith sat down on him with all his weight and pulled the youth's arms further up and tightened his grip.
"Magazines." Keith released the young Anglo-Jamaican in a reluctant breath.
"What kind of magazines and videos?" Keith persisted, though he already knew the answer.
"You can have them if you want them. They're by the tree there."
"I didn't say I wanted them, I said what kind. Now, what kind of videos and magazines are worth breaking and entering for?" Keith knew he had stumbled upon one of the members of a racket which operated in the selling and stealing of gay porn. A friend of his had been robbed that way, not long ago. Easy: sell illegal porn, steal it back and re-sell it. No one is going to report it.
Keith looked down at the young man's face. He had the perfect milky-coffee complexion and hungry-looking dark eyes, with those long feminine eyelashes that are so disarming. The guy was breathing heavily and Keith could only think about kissing those thick, parted, moist lips.
"What's your name? Mine's Keith."
"Barry. Are you going to rape me?"
The question took Keith a little aback. The tone was soft, breathy and suggestive. Keith got the strongest feeling that Barry genuinely wanted to feel a fat dick crash into his ass and give it a severe punishment. Keith didn't reply. He released Barry's arms and looked at him straight in the eyes. Barry looked back at him, keeping his arms above his head. The only thing there was desire.
Barry looked down at the crotch above his own. Keith's cock was flying at full mast, pushing up the loose cloth like a marquis pole.
Keith's gaze fixed on the bare torso heaving and gleaming in the moonlight. Smooth and sweaty with matted streaks of dirt tarnishing its delicate musculature, Barry's abdomen stretched out, inviting Keith's manly touch.
"You're not wearing anything under those funny pants of yours. You got a big dick there, Keith. Are you going to shove it between my legs?" whispered Barry.
Keith rubbed his ass over Barry's own hard prick. Barry pressed his pelvis harder against the butch bouncer sitting on him in the dark.
"You like big men sitting on you, don't you. You often lie back and let fat cocks into you? You enjoy taken them like a slut?" asked Keith.
"U-huh," nodded Barry.
Keith climbed off Barry, grabbed his wrists with one hand and pulled down his trousers past his thighs with the other. Barry's stiff young meat arched toward his hip. His dick was dark and fine and dribbling juice. His sheath of foreskin was sleek and delicate. It was a fully fledged six-and-a-half incher, slim and smooth with a firmly and tightly-packed ball-bag. His pubes formed a small and shallow crescent of dense stubble. Whiffs of its musk hit Keith's face like come-on slaps.
Keith bent his head down and buried his nostrils into Barry's sweaty pubic nest. He opened his thin-lipped mouth and tongued the ruffled skin of the young pouch. The skin was tender and aromatic. Its smell contained all the promise and potency of a young male in heat.
Keith ran the edges of his teeth over its surface and then closed his jaws in mock biting motions. He sucked each ball at a time. Swallowing it, applying the gentle pressure of his lips and inside cheeks over the nut's sensitive bounciness and then spitting it out and starting again.
The night air was balmy and any tree could have hidden a couple of peeping toms, witnesses, or even the human face of the law. Keith and Barry were oblivious to all that.
Keith then worked his tongue into the crack between Barry's thigh and scrotum, ooh-ing and aah-ing as he guzzled on the texture of that young skin.
"Lick my ass," muttered Barry.
Keith spat onto his hand and inserted his wide and long forefinger into Barry's hole. It was primed and giving. Keith slipped in a second finger and Barry groaned and lifted his buns farther off the ground as his boy-hole was stuffed.
Keith released his grip on Barry's wrists and guided the exposed prick to his mouth. He engulfed it in its entirety, even wrapping his lips firmly over the balls, then slowly gliding back up to the dark glans. His fingers ebbed in and out of Barry's hot tunnel in time to his slow cock-sucking.
"Come on, fuck me, man! What are you waiting for? Let me see your fat cock enter me," begged Barry.
Keith carried on sucking and finger-fucking him and silenced him by plunging his other hand into Barry's mouth. When they were drenched enough, Keith began to daub Barry's nipples. The night air on the wetness made them harden.
Keith stopped his blowing and suckled on one nipple, pinching the other while finger-fucking the passive burglar with four fingers.
Barry tried to reach Keith's waistband and fumbled to find the fly. Keith interrupted the action and helped Barry release the whopping manhood into the open air.
The creamy-colored fat shaft blazoned out in a hungry thrust before Barry's delighted eyes. Keith's prick was a delicious, oblong, pale-raspberry offering Barry couldn't resist. He took it in his mouth instantly and bobbed furiously up and down the choking eight inches, working himself up to a frenzy.
Keith stood up. Barry rose to his knees, his mouth tenaciously wrapped round the fabulous plonker. Keith watched the young scarfed head dive over his great unit. His juices bubbled in his sack. He searched his pocket and found the rubbers he always took with him. He pulled out of Barry's mouth, rolled a condom down his fuck-club, and brutally hoisted Barry up by the armpits.
Keith knew Barry wanted it rough and he was going to give it to him. He pushed him unceremoniously the yard or so to the nearest tree. He rested his hands flat on the under-thigh and lifted Barry clear off the ground. Barry's ass cheeks splayed open. The young man held on to the tree-trunk, his bum resting in Keith's arms with his legs folded over them like on a seat.
Keith lowered his arms, thrust out his pelvis and his knob came into contact with the pulsating sphincter. Keith then let Barry's ass drop over his cock. His hard eight inches soared into Barry's shocked butthole.
Keith felt as if he were playing with weights, bouncing Barry up and down along his rigid cock length.
Barry grunted and puffed.
"You like that, you slut! You want more of my meat into you?"
"Yeah, ram me with all you've got! Skewer me proper!" panted Barry.
Keith let go of Barry, who promptly sank onto the bouncer's solid dingbat, succumbing to the full force of the savagely delicious impaling.
Keith pushed vigorously into that hot sucking depth, stabbing his meaty shaft into Barry. He stabilized the coffee-colored hips with his paws and thwacked against the tender flesh like a frigate slicing through stormy breakers. Barry soon began to meet each of Keith's thrusts and matched their intensity. Now Keith's hands were free and he grabbed the young man's smooth shaft and pulled it hard while his other hand twisted each erect nipple in turn.
"Oh, God! I'm going to cum!" warned Barry.
Keith jerked faster, plowed harder and squeezed tighter. Barry gave a quick succession of loud pants, squirmed, and jettisoned streams of white love-juice onto the craggy bark. Keith felt the warm wetness on his hands and the spasms of Barry's ass contracting ferociously around his banging member.
They calmed down and Keith retracted. He hadn't cum and probably wasn't going to. He had to go to work.
He helped Barry pull up his trousers and hugged him like a great soppy bear. They kissed again but this time it was mutually more tender. Keith went to pick up his bag then turned to Barry. "I like you. I hope we run into each other again. Apart from a good dick up your ass, you look as if you could do with a good meal in your stomach and a few lessons in self-defense."
"You goin' now? You haven't cum," blurted out Barry.
"Don't worry about that. Look after yourself. Perhaps you should think of chucking this and of recycling your talents," commented Keith, pointing his head at Barry's stolen goods.
Keith set off through the thickets. I should have given him a phone number or something, he thought, all the way to the Katrina Casino.
The shift had been uneventful and Keith's mind had been solely preoccupied with Barry. He looked at his watch. It was six a.m. He was beginning to feel peckish and looking forward to his breakfast at Tiffany's Cafe. He looked up and saw Barry's familiar figure hurrying toward him on the sidewalk. He had no bag with him now.
"You dropped this earlier on," said Barry handing him a Katrina Casino match-box. Then he whispered: "I owe you one, remember?"
Keith smiled back and said: "Hungry?" They laughed, and headed for Tiffany's Cafe.
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