The author is always looking for new ideas for stories and invites readers to send comments, feedback, etc. to cybercavan@hotmail.com.
Transit Trash
Liam looked at his watch in disgust. It was 11:15 PM and the train was still somewhere buried under the streets of San Francisco inching its way to the station where he stood, impatient, tired and more than a little drunk. Ever since he had come over from Ireland, his life had been a whirlwind of business meetings, training sessions, pressing the flesh (not the flesh he wanted to press, mind you) and then, at the end of his 12-hour workday, the long trip under the Bay to the suburb where he was house-sitting for his globetrotting cousin Moira.
More than once had he cursed his idea to help his cuz out and save his company some bucks by locating himself in the wilds of Berkeley rather than accepting the tiny but convenient corporate suite in downtown San Francisco. Especially on the nights when he went out with clients to a local brewjoint and quaffed a bit too much. Americans, he smirked woozily. Just because you were Irish, they thought you would like and could consume endless quantities of badly-brewed swill that passed for beer or reverently sip the overpriced California Merlot and Chardonnay, expecting you to be dazzled by the high price and the fancy appellation.
Bullocks! Gimme a sweet smoky Irish whiskey anyday. And give me any sweet smoky Dublin boy with a two day beard growth, do-it-yourself tattoos and BO than these muscle-bound, Prada-clad prima donnas with their BMW's, south of Market lofts and vanilla sex, he thought drunkenly. The only "BO" they knew was their bluidly Bang and Olufsen stereo systems!
Having reached the belligerent stage of his inebriation, Liam blurrily looked around on the platform for someone to dispute his silent comments. A quiet, defeated-looking woman sat hunched over book, probably a Bible. An over-energized businessman was futilely trying to make his pricey cell phone work 50 feet below street level. One of the city's ubiquitous bike messengers was hoisting his bike through the turnstile.
But, there now. In the corner stood a very large black guy in a transit cop's uniform absently fondling what appeared to be a very large basket.
Liam brightened up and forgot his grievances. Black men fascinated him. Having grown up in a country of white-white men, the first sight of ebony flesh in a porno flick in New York had totally undone him. No freckles! No flaming red patch of pubic hair or washed-out blue eyes. Instead, masses of muscle in the neck, shoulders and chest - mocha skin tones and kinky black hair and lips to chew on for days. And the cocks - was it possible or was the miracle of computer-enhancements now being used in cut-rate porno? A friend assured him that what he saw was what he could indeed get and further advised that a guy as white bread as Liam would be fresh meat for any black guy on the prowl.
Liam didn't get it. He never thought of himself as attractive - unruly copper hair, green eyes, nice lips but nothing special. True, he was amply-endowed for an Irishman but his milk-white skin and baby tender ass was mortification. Despite the hours at the gym to develop those buns of bronze promised in the adverts, he still had a soft white bum that was the object (had he known) of many lustful thoughts of his gym mates. He was equally oblivious to the incredibly seductive flash when he smiled and dimples that would have any Hollywood plastic surgeon running for his knife, probably to slit his wrists in envy.
A whoosh of air and scattering of trash on the tracks announced the imminent arrival of the train and jerked Liam's thoughts above his waist. He edged towards the back of the platform and prayed that the black cop would enter the last train with him.
No such luck. As the aluminum length of the train finally eased into the station, Liam noted with chagrin that the noir stud had loped into the second to last car. The last car was empty of passengers and Liam stepped aboard. As he tumbled into the last seat, resigned to another tedious forty-minute ride, two muscular arms forced the closing doors open and the wheel of a bicycle pushed through accompanied by a volley of curses. The rest of the pissed biker followed as the train began to move forward.
Six feet of lean white meat swung the bike around and against the wall. Liam swallowed suddenly. Blond hair buzzed cut, cheekbones sharp enough to slice cheese, full lips now compressed in anger and stubble covering the kind of square jaw and cleft chin you saw in Army recruiting ads. A long column of muscular neck with rivulets of sweat staining the top of his oversized sleeveless T-shirt. A bike messenger's bag was slung across his broad chest, bisecting his pecs and forcing his T-shirt to one side. A single hard nipple peeked out, sweat slowly dripping off the gold tit ring.
You could smell the sweat from ten feet away, mixed with the fainter smell of pot and bicycle grease. Liam's cock leapt within his pants in a single surge that left him giddy.
The biker hastily dragged off his messenger bag and in doing so, pulled his shirt up over the hairless smoothly muscled stomach. Still standing, he flung the bag down on the seat and pulled at the waist of his lycra bike shorts. Liam held his breath. With no apparent self-consciousness, the stud reached inside the shorts and rearranged his cock and balls. His hand lingered as he pushed his meat into a more comfortable position to one side. He then rolled down the waistband of his shorts until the tops of his blond pubes showed. The tight white muscles of his pelvis glistened sweatily in the light.
Very slowly, the biker wiped his hand across the sweaty tautness of his stomach and damp pubes and brought it to his mouth. He gingerly sniffed and then licked his hand. Liam almost shot his wad.
Turning his back to Liam, the biker started to lock his bike handle to the seat rail. The broad V of his shoulders and back were clearly seen through the sopping shirt. There was a clear six-inch gap between the shirt and the rolled down shorts, showing the sweaty cleft of the biker's awesome ass. Inside the skintight shorts the twin fists of butt muscles bunched and relaxed as he positioned the bike more securely. The backs of his lean muscular legs were splattered with sweat and the street dirt of San Francisco. A snake tattoo circled one ankle.
Liam was beside himself. Not once had the stud acknowledged the Irishman's presence. What the hell, he thought. If I am invisible, then the stud won't be able to see me beat my meat.
Liam roughly unzipped his expensive business slacks, freeing his cock from its painful confinement. The sound of the zipper seemed unnoticeable to Liam but the biker turned around abruptly and stared straight into Liam's eyes. His throat suddenly tight and hand frozen over his cock; Liam did not mistake the menace in the biker's face. Too many times had Liam seen the same barely contained violence in the looks that straight Irish boys gave Liam's mates as they had tumbled out of a gay bar at midnight in the tony Temple Bar area of Dublin. The proximity of straight and gay pick-up bars had resulted in some minor skirmishes but Liam had ducked any real threats. Until now.
The alcohol surged up again as Liam's caressing hand became a fist. He wasn't afraid. Liam loved a good punch-up, having been the boxing champion in his school and used to defending himself against his older brothers, real pricks one and all. In fact, the sound of his fist striking another man's flesh was a secret turn-on and he always made sure that his jockstrap he wore under his boxing shorts was on the small size. It was damned embarrassing to sport a woody while your were beating the shite out of a classmate.
Pot-glazed blue eyes held mocking green eyes for a long minute. Liam then provocatively licked his lips in a slow sensuous movement. The biker blinked and with a face as stony as his granite ass, began to march down the aisle toward Liam.
"What you lookin' at, faggot?" Liam couldn't place the accent - somewhere down south - redneck country. Liam remained silent, letting his eyes slowly drop from the angry face, down over the sweaty expanse of heaving chest and stomach to the biker's crotch. Holy Mother of Jaisus! At a distance, Liam had not been able to see just how big this homophobe's dick was. Now, as the biker loomed over Liam, the monster dick was mere inches away, straining the lycra and looking like lead pipe.
Liam's own meat was surging out of his open zipper, a small dribble of pre-cum making the mushroom head shine. Liam remained silent but grabbed his huge hard-on and squeezed it, still staring at his assailant.
The biker furiously lunged forward towards Liam but even when drunk, the Irish boxer was quicker. Grabbing the biker's greasy fist with one hand and the opposite elbow with another, Liam was up and out of his seat in a single liquid motion. With his white cock engorged and buffalo balls bursting from his open pants, Liam violently twisted the biker's arm behind his back and locked his neck with the other arm. The biker tried to scream but the stranglehold Liam had muffled his cry.
Liam kicked the biker's feet from under him and forced him face down on the bench seat opposite. In the struggle, the lycra shorts had slipped further down the biker's ass, revealing more of a truly iron ass, the kind that Liam himself had tried so hard to develop. Tightening his grip, Liam laid the full weight of his sturdy muscular frame on top the biker and whispered in the stud's ear.
"What am I lookin' at, mate? Right now, I am lookin' at the hottest ass I have seen in your pantywaist country and I am about to look at a lot more of it." The biker struggled furiously, hissing curses under his breath. Liam brought his knee hard up on the small of the biker's back and with a single motion, Liam ripped the shorts down over the clenching mounds.
Turning and struggling frantically, the biker slid further down the seat, his cock now trapped between his pinned legs and against the frayed edge of the seat. Leaning more heavily into the hapless biker, Liam grabbed at the stud's meat, enjoying the smell of fearful sweat and pot that rose from the recumbent form.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here," he taunted as he ran his fingers down the weighty length of the rider's dick which was growing hotter and harder by the second. "So, our Dixie bikeboy may not be quite as butch as he would like us to think," Liam murmured.
He leaned forward and licked the stud's ear, enjoying the outraged shock he felt in the body beneath him. More inarticulate bad language and futile squirmings. Liam chuckled and thrust a not so playful kneebone into the stud's kidneys. The biker suddenly went limp, his shoulders heaving from his unsuccessful exertions and the crippling arm around his neck.
The Irishman eased up on his stranglehold, curious to know what the 'phobe would try next. The biker had definitely slowed his frantic efforts to get free, now knowing that his would-be victim was much stronger and more skilled at close combat. And to Liam's amazement, the stud actually lifted and clenched his ass in an unmistakably inviting manner and whispered something Liam could not quite make out.
Lifting his knee from the biker's back, Liam quickly lowered his body flat onto the bikers, still not trusting the rider's sudden passivity. Liam's cock, chafed by the zipper and bunched drawers slid between the rising asscheeks.
"What was that you said, mate?" Liam asked. His response was a sensuous motion of the amazing ass cheeks, which had now trapped Liam's rigid rod in an iron grip. Liam slowly released his grip on the stud's neck. Taking a risk, he stuck his finger in the biker's panting mouth.
"You sure aren't much with your fists, my bullyboy. Let me see what you can do with your mouth," Liam sneered. The biker feverishly sucked at Liam's finger, the stubble on his chin abrading Liam's hand. Liam smiled, knowing that the wanna-be fag-basher was now his slave.
The Irishman stuck two more fingers in the hot mouth and with his other hand, began to slowly strop the length of the biker's cock that was now a good ten inches of white-hot energy. The biker moaned and whispered again.
Liam leaned in close and asked more softy, "can't hear you, mate?" He removed his spit soaked fingers and wiped them in the soft fuzz of the biker's hair.
"Hit me," the reply came. "Hit me... hard."
For Liam, it seemed like the world had lurched to a stop, so overwhelming was the surge of lust he felt. It then dawned on Liam that it wasn't his world but the train that had stopped. The overhead fluorescents suddenly went out and the widely spaced emergency lights winked on as the public address system crackled.
" Attention riders. We have a stalled train in the tunnel in front of us with a medical emergency. With any luck, we should be moving in ten to twenty minutes. In the meantime, we are reducing the lights to conserve energy and ask that you remain in your seats. We will let you know as soon as the train ahead is moving. Thank you for your patience."
Normally, the thought of being trapped in a dim metal box seventy feet below the seabed of San Francisco Bay would have spooked Liam. Now, with his dick wedged between the sweetest arse cheeks this side of Limerick and his hand tingling in anticipation of some hot S&M, he felt like he had died and gone to heaven.
Slowly, he eased his body off the biker and knelt gazing at the glorious ass hiked up and ready.
Liam reached for his now-frantic dick. He eased it fully out of his pants and tugged his balls free from the zipper. Never had he had such a hard-on. A good nine inches bobbed in the dim light as waves of heat pulsed up from his balls.
The biker turned his head and glanced fearfully behind him. His eyes widened as he took in the huge Irish cock and widened further as Liam slowly removed his leather belt. He quickly buried his head in the seat and bit on the stained cloth, fearfully waiting for the first bite of the leather and smack of the open hand.
It wasn't long coming. With a whistle and a crack, the belt descended from above onto his exposed ass. The biker groaned deep in his throat and his cock leapt uncontrollably. Precum oozed from his engorged cock head and waves of fresh sweat dripped from his balls onto the floor of the train.
Again, again and again came the whoosh, the crack, the pain. In the empty train car, each stroke sounded like a gunshot.
Liam looked down in satisfaction. The ass was now nicely crossed and recrossed with angry red welts, like a hot cross bun at Easter. The Irishman chuckled at the simile. Well, time to knead the dough a bit more. Throwing down his belt, he spit into his open palm and brought it down with a flying fury that surprised both of them.
"Hit me, please. Hit me harder. Please oh fucking please." The biker was screaming hoarsely, his southern accent roughened with passion and pain. Glad to oblige, you fookin' 'phobe, thought Liam gleefully as he applied himself to the task.
Twenty cracks later, sweat pouring from his brow, his hand aching and sore, Liam finally stopped. The biker was prostrate before him; all fight gone and only abject submission evident in his lean muscled form.
Well, now that the 'phobe had gotten the rough of it, it was time for the smooth. Liam crouched down and began to lick the pooled sweat from his victim's lower back. The acrid taste of salt filled his mouth, causing Liam's cock to surge once more. And then, very gently, he slid the rough of his tongue over the red and bruised glutes and down into the crevice of the biker's ass.
Funky, indeed. Sweat-soaked lycra flavored with the leather of bike seat mixed with the musky odors of a long day in the saddle. Liam laughed silently. I sound like one of the posh wine snobs. An ass connoisseur, that's what I am, he thought drunkenly. This particular vintage shows the best of the southern rim of Dixie, mixed with the piquant flavor of piss and pot!
He lapped next at the dangling nuts and relished the bikers' huge balls which were recently shaven and as smooth as a baby's tush. Roughly popping one and then another of the chestnut size 'nads out of his moth, Liam reached up and began beating the biker's cock in a fast friction that caused both of then to groan in ecstasy.
Lurching awkwardly to his feet, Liam began to lower his pants, staring down at the biker's ass, now primed and ready for a crackin' good fucking. No way to do it in his half-dressed state though. And with any luck, the train would be stuck longer in the tunnel than it took Liam's own train to ram the hot tunnel of the biker's asshole.
Godam it, the fancy trouser cuffs were caught in the buckle of his shoe. As Liam unsteadily bent over to disengage his cuffs and pull off his shoes, a voice in the dark murmured.
"Looks like you need a little help."
Holy Christ! Liam's heart slammed in his chest as he frantically turned around, still holding his lowered pants in his hands. Ten feet away stood an indistinct figure. The biker had heard the voice too and was struggling to get to his feet.
"Just stay as you are, gentlemen." A cop, thought Liam with a groan. No one but a fuckin' cop could mix that polite language with the implied threat so well. Apparently, the biker had the same thought as he launched to his feet and began to hurtle past the Liam, making for the far end of the train and freedom. His lowered shorts proved to be his undoing.
A rustle, crack and thud and Liam could dimly see the half-naked biker now huddled on the floor beyond the still dark figure.
"What's the hurry, gentlemen? It looks like you were just getting started."
The figure moved closer and Liam backed up instinctively. The bass voice had taken on a low purr that sent shivers through Liam's nuts. His own dick was oblivious to the obvious danger and stood proudly at full mast.
A snick in the dark and a flash of light shone in Liam's face. He threw his hand over his eye, trying to see beyond the beam and figure out whether the mysterious figure was as big as his voice suggested.
The beam lowered from the face and played over Liam's rumpled clothing finally stopping on his arching cock.
"Hmm...pretty big dick - for a white boy." Liam swallowed. So that's why he couldn't clearly see the cop - he was black and dressed in a dark uniform to boot. In the dim light, he suddenly saw the split of a smile and gleaming white teeth. Not a nice smile.
Fueled by his earlier drinking marathon and the last 10 minutes of total lust, Liam unwisely chose bravado and laid on an Irish accent as thick as plaster.
"Sure, and big it is, my ebony stranger. Blazing hot as a matter o' fact. And right now, it is in dire need of a sweet mouth to cool it off. Any chance of ya wrapping those lovely Nubian lips 'round my tool?"
His response was a bellow of laughter followed by a brutal thrust of a huge hand against his chest. Trapped in his lowered trousers, Liam toppled awkwardly backwards onto the seat where he had recently pinned the rider.
"Mmm, mmm, mmm. Waddya know - a Limey fruitcake - all undressed and ready for slicing."
Liam's Irish temper erupted in a white-hot flash at the insult. "Who ya callin' a Limey , ya ignorant arsehole."
"My mistake," the cop corrected himself in an exaggerated tone. "Irish fruitcake and one with no manners or respect for his betters. Bigger and betters, that is." The cop laughed again, delighted with his own wit.
Despite his panic and anger, Liam felt his own cock rise again at the sly allusion to his assailant's cock size. Deciding to risk all, Liam sneered at the cop and said, "To be sure, I had forgotten the myths about the size of black men's cocks. Maybe that's why so many of you become cops or sportsmen - makin' up for the fact that you're really hung like wee squirrels."
In a flash, the cop grabbed Liam's hair and painfully jerked his head up. Tears flooded Liam's eyes and he realized that he had made a costly mistake by mouthing off to the cop.
"You have a pretty big mouth, Irish boy. Maybe you need to have it filled with something other than bullshit."
Twisting Lima's hair even harder with one hand, the cop hurriedly unzipped his trousers with the other. The mighty bulge of his crotch inched towards Liam's strained face.
"Come on, Irish boy. Why don't you put that clever tongue to better use."
His face now mashed into the open fly of the cop, Liam inhaled deeply. The fresh smell of clean boxer shorts and the tangy scent of hot black skin mixed in a heady aroma that sent the Irishman's heart racing. He inserted his tongue into the gap in the white boxers and began to lick what felt like an endless length of hot hard meat. Up and down his hot tongue searched, seemingly unable to find the root or the top of the amazing piece of black dick.
"Work it out, boy. Get my big black dick out where you can really get at it." The cop stressed the 'big' and 'black' in a low, sexy but dangerous tone. Liam swallowed and complied eagerly, reaching with his hand for the cop's dick. He was rewarded by a quick slap against the side of his head.
"No hands. Just your mouth."
Liam worked his tongue further into the drawers and finally leveraged the huge purple head of the cop's meat out of the opening. He could barely wrap his lips around the giant knob. With a gentle pull, Liam arched backwards and sucked the remaining inches out.
The huge length of the cock flopped down in front of Liam's mesmerized face. For the love of heaven, it was just as his friend had said. Easily a foot long, the monstrous black cock was beginning to rise like some engorged beast from the deep.
"What's keeping you, boy? You got some work to do. I want you to get me nice and hard and then you and I are going to have some fun with your friend over there," the cop said, pointing to the biker who was unsteadily getting to his feet.
Liam had completely forgotten the biker.
Eagerly, Liam bent towards the rising behemoth. He rested his cheek for a second against the eight-inch circumference and said a small prayer of thanks to the gods of transit fuckups. Then, he began to lap at the column of flesh, starting at the enflamed head and slaloming down the rigid inches towards the base. Again and again he lathered the cop's dick with spit, spiraling around and around until he reached the crown.
Taking a deep breath, he opened his jaws wide and took in the entire head, careful not to use his teeth. The last thing he wanted was another smack. His head was still ringing from the last one.
"That's good, Irish boy, that's real good," crooned the cop. "Keep that white throat pumpin' on my black dick - I'm gonna stuff this Nubian cock all the way down to your gut, you fuckin' white faggot."
Liam could hardly breathe as the cop pumped his dick in and out of his mouth that felt as if it were going to split at the corners. The cop swore luridly under his breath, keeping time with his thrusts. "Take it you Irish bitch, take a fuckin' man's meat. Show your big daddy how good you are and maybe I'll let you lick my sweet black asshole."'
With another sudden shove, the cop backed away from Liam. Reaching inside his spit-soaked drawers, he drew his balls out. Fumbling in his pocket, he brought out a leather cock ring and with a practiced motion, fastened it.
Liam watched in amazement. As soon as the last snap was in place, the already enormous dick rose like a dark dirigible, extending another two inches and the balls dropped like falling apples inside the cop's hairy sac.
"Okay, my Irish bitch. It's show time."
Grabbing Liam's hair, the cop dragged the protesting Irishman to his feet and with a ruthless pull, dragged him headfirst down the train towards the rider, Liam's trousers causing him to stumble and stagger.
The biker stood frozen, watching helplessly as the looming figures of the cop and badass boxer approached him. The saner part of his mind was screaming for him to grab his bike and split while he had a chance. But the vision of the huge black cock emerging out of the dark and the cries of pain from Liam as he struggled to free himself from the pig's grip held rooted him in place. In fact, the only part of him capable of any movement was his dick that was bounding out of his shorts.
The cop released Liam with a thrust, causing the Irishman to tumble at the feet of the rider.
"Hey, bikeboy. Here's your chance to pay back our mick friend here for that nasty little paddling you got earlier. That is, if your honky balls are big enough."
The biker narrowed his eyes. He hadn't forgotten his earlier exchange with the transit cop. He had tried to get through the station turnstile without paying his fare, a favorite trick of bike messengers. Unfortunately, he had gotten nailed by this big black muthuh' who politely asked him to try again, this time with his ticket. He rolled his eyes and muttered a racist epithet, just loud enough to be heard by the cop. The pig's face darkened but remained calm as he told the biker that all transit passengers had to have a ticket. The biker jammed his ticket in the slot and with a flourish lifted the bike over gate, glaring at the cop all the while.
As he began to move towards the platform, the cop called after him to make sure he boarded the last car - "the back of the bus." The biker turned and spat a "yes sir" to the cop and then farted a real good one and laughed. The cop didn't.
After a long day of pedaling up and down the City's hills, he was in no mood for some uppity black pig to tell him he had to get his bike and smelly ass on the last train, especially when there were no passengers in the last three cars. He had flipped the cop off as soon as the pig had turned his back and was mighty pissed as he barely made it onto the train. So pissed that he didn't notice the dude at the end of the car. His mistake, as his throbbing ass reminded him.
Well, maybe things were lookin' up. On his knees before him was the hot faggot who whupped his ass. Normally, the biker (GD to his bike messenger buddies - short for "giant dick" ) didn't get into guys - his Bible-belt upbringing went deep. And now living in the gayest city in the world, he had been hit on way too many times by rich fags looking for a little grunge action. Occasionally though, when he was short of cash and wanted to score some weed, he would thought of lettin' them blow him. He had not acted on this thought - way too freaked by the thought. Not until this evening, that is, when high, tired and pissed off, he had made the mistake of jumping this Irish dude, had things gotten so far out of hand. And instead of the disgust he normally felt when dealing with fags, his whole body had responded to the need for rough male action and he had gotten down on his knees like a dog and begged for a lickin'. The memory of the leather and the pain caused his dick to pump up again.
Slowly, GD peeled down his shorts and freed up his cock. He noticed the gleam in the cop's eye as he began to stroke what he liked to call his southern comfort. Well, maybe the Irish guy would like to taste a real man's dick, not the unnatural black salami that blasted out of the pig's uniform. Though just the sight of the huge black dick ballooning out of the cock ring caused GD to salivate and fleetingly wonder what it would be like to have that monster up his ass.
Liam licked his lips. The biker's dick was inches from his mouth when he felt a heavy weight on his scalp. The cop had slapped the full length of his dick on his coppery curls and was thrusting it through the tangles, snarling them further and causing Liam's eyes to tear up once more. Against the back of his neck he felt the slapping balls and the tickle of pubic hair. Massive thigh muscles closed in on either side of his head as the cop pinned Liam between his legs and fucked the top of his head.
The cop reached forward and grabbed GD's hard-on. Fisting it roughly, he pulled it forward and brutally shoved it in Liam's open mouth. And then, with a single motion, ripped GD's T-shirt up the middle and pulled it off his shoulders.
"What the fuck are you doin'...spluttered the furious redneck, his howl of anger suddenly cut off in a whine of pain as the cop seized both nipples in his fingers. The biker's dick shook uncontrollably in Liam's mouth as the cop began flicking his tit rings, causing GD to groan in guilty pleasure.
Lima reached up and cupped the biker's huge 'nads in his hands and began to massage them none so gently.
"That's it , bitch. Work his nuts, make 'em dance," whispered the cop as he redoubled his thrusts and further squeezed his captive between his thighs, which were now slick with sweat. "Give our honky bikeboy a little pain before I pleasure him."
Liam grabbed GD's sac and pulled it down, causing his dick to swell further and threaten to cut off Liam's breath. The biker, in a daze of hot lust, pain and anger at the cop's threat, roughly pulled in dick out of the Irishman's mouth and gazed at the black cop whose eyes were fixed malevolently on his.
"Fuck you, pig. You ain't gonna touch me with your greasy hands or anything else. Not while I'm still breathing," challenged GD. And just as Liam had learned the hard way, saying 'fuck you' to this particular cop was not so smart.
The cop backed away from Liam who scuttled out of the way, eager for the next act in this increasingly hot scene.
Cop and biker faced each other. GD's T-shirt lay in sweat tatters, his pecs red with their recent mauling. He definitely looked willing to fight but his huge erection and twitching ass betrayed him. Having gone this far down "queer road," he was now willing and even eager to take it to the max. But not for nuthin' would he give the hot pig the satisfaction of knowing how bad GD wanted to touch, to taste that hunk of dark meat.
Slowly, the cop began to unbutton his soaked shirt. Liam almost creamed. Clearly the dude was a body builder for what emerged out of the cheap polyester uniform was nothing short of perfection. The sweep of shoulders and massive pecs tapered to a ridiculously tiny waist. The stomach muscles looked like ripples of sand in the wind as the cop drew his huge arms out of the sleeves. He unbuckled his pants and stepped out of the uniform, leaving his fitted boots on.
Shirtless, pantless except for the tight boxers, with his huge dick glossy black with sweat, the cop crooked a finger at the now speechless biker as he lovingly stroked his meat with his other hand.
"Get your white ass over here. Now, " he growled. GD drew himself up and spat on the floor, inches from the cop's boot. Liam clasped his hands in a parody of prayer, catching the tiniest glimmer of a smile of the cop's face - the same smile that had caused Liam's blood to freeze earlier.
With the same blinding speed that had taken the Irishman by surprise, the cop barreled into GD and slammed him into the door connecting the trains. GD bounced off the door and tumbled headlong into a seat, falling face down once again.
Liam tut-tutted under his breath. The redneck's habit of leaving his rear unguarded (literally) was going to be his undoing.
As GD struggled to get up, the cop jumped him again, pinning him down on the seat and clambering up onto his upper back, knees on each shoulder.
"You, bitch. Get over here and help our friend off with his fancy shorts." Liam rushed to oblige, tearing down GD's lycra shorts and exposing his earlier handiwork.
"Now, get that fuckin' hole real wet. Wouldn't want to hurt our li'l southern belle, here, " the cop snickered. As GD struggled futilely, the cop continued, "better yet, after you tongue him, why don't you take the first crack at it and loosen it up with your wee Irish dick. That way, when a real man fucks him, it won't be so bad for bikeboy here. Better use one of these, though. Who knows where this honky's ass has been." The cop tugged out a condom tucked into the waistband of his boxers and tossed it to Liam - the superlarge size, the Irishman noted with envy.
GD turned his head frantically and began to plead with the cop, pride washed away in a tide of panic. He had never been fucked before and to have it done this way - in a violent rape by two guys with giant dicks.
"Please... I'll do anything you want...just don't ...fuck me. I ain't never been fucked before. Please, I'll ..I'll suck you off. - whatever.. just don't stick me. Please.. Sir."
The cop looked down at the trembling biker and repeated that sinister smile. "Well, that's the kind of polite offer I just can't say no to - wouldn't be hospitable, now would it?" He eased off the biker and with a deft motion, turned GD on his back. Sitting on the biker's naked chest, his balls slapping GD's tits, the cop grabbed his giant black dick with both hands and brushed the head over his captive's lips.
Liam, deprived of his hot fucking, scrambled over and began sucking on the biker's still hard dick. Glancing up, he watched in awe and envy the massive working of muscles in the black man's back and shoulders as the cop force-fed GD his swollen meat. The perfectly round muscular ass was a foot from Liam's face, sweat streaming off the dark silken skin, the glutes puckering as he thrust his hips forward.
GD gingerly licked the saucer sized dick head. His lips were dry from panic and the joint he had smoked just before getting on the train. He tried a few feeble passes over the oozing slit, not sure whether he was going to throw up or cum right then and there.
"What's the matter with you - your tongue is like sandpaper," growled the cop. "Maybe you need some lube."
With a wolfish smile, he bent down and kissed the astonished redneck, first running his wet tongue over GD's lips and then thrusting it deep into the biker's open mouth.
GD's mind was a whirl of confusion, revulsion and rampaging horniness. To be kissed by a black cop - two species GD had grown up hating and fearing. A naked black cop who was going to hurt him really bad if he didn't do everything he was ordered to and whose pink tongue was hot and alive and causing GD to moan out loud.
Totally flipped out, GD now desperately wanted to do whatever the massive black man ordered. The biker's dick was pulsing with blood, his ass, burnt by the earlier beating, clenched and unclenched, screaming for a fuck just as it had earlier screamed for a beating.
What the shit was goin' on? GD sought wildly for an answer as his imbedded white trash racism wrestled with an uncontrollable lust for dominance. No contest. Lust won as GD began to return the kisses with caution at first and then with increasing passion, sucking at the big soft lips and thrusting his tongue in a mouth that was as hot and moist as an Mississippi night. Closing his eyes, he grabbed at the cop's huge biceps, drawing the black stud even closer.
The cop smiled through his kisses. He knew that the hot biker was queer from the moment he saw the punk checking him out at the station. All that redneck bullshit was poor camouflage when it was real obvious that the biker's glances kept dropping to the cop's bulging crotch, even as the punk gave him a raft of shit. The cop had made sure to thrust his hips forward, legs spread in the "at ease" attitude as he hassled the biker, knowing that the classic cop position showcased his giant meat. His posturing was rewarded. He saw that the kid was beginning to get hard as he made his last defiant gesture and ran for the train.
The cop was going off duty when he had the little encounter with GD but decided not to risk his job by following the punk into the last car and putting the moves on him, much as he would have liked to. He had chosen instead the second to last car, cursing himself for being in uniform and missing the opportunity to play big black wolf.
Keeping his ear cocked, he had heard the first sounds of the altercation. Cautiously, he crept up to the glass window in the door between the cars and watched the developing S&M action between the Irishman (now there was a hot honky fucker, he thought) and the biker.
When the operator's announcement came and the inadequate emergency lights went on, he decided to go for it. He quietly slid back the door and crept towards the dimly seen figures. Only the biker's naked white ass shimmered in the dark. The sounds of the brutal spanking were unmistakable.
He had loved the total panic on the Irishman's face when he loomed spookily out of the dark and did his best bad-cop routine. The quick bullshit response from Liam had tickled him enormously. The cop's first lover had been an mouthy Irish dockworker in Boston who had nicknamed him Goliath - the name had stuck and now all of his fellow officers called him that - without knowing the source. No one but a moron would have mistaken Liam for a Brit , but the cop but knew that calling any Irishman a Limey would be asking for a fight. And having witnessed the hot S&M action, Goliath had decided that Liam had to give him a reason to play a little rough. His ploy had worked beyond his expectation!
And now, with the biker as soft and pliant as any manhunter could want, it was time to give the Irishman a little TLC as well. Lifting his lips from GD's, he turned and whispered huskily to Liam. "Bring that beautiful dick over here. I think our friend wants a taste."
Goliath backed off the biker who touched his own lips in wonder. The passionate exchange of kisses had stirred something real deep, something scary and joyful, which left him confused but wanting more.
Liam glanced at the cop warily, noting the change in tone and attitude. The biker was laid back on the seat, his hard dick arching in the air and with an expression on his face as if he had seen the second coming. The Irishman cautiously approached the cop, who gently took his hand and placed it on one massive pec. Liam ran his hand over the hard muscle and quickly leaned forward and kissed one hard brown tit. No smack upside his head. Gaining courage, he then grabbed both pecs with his hands, hardly believing the size, density or weight of them. Heat rose in waves from the black man and sweat glistened on the sloping trapezium muscles, like dew on black marble.
Liam lightly pinched the nipples, watching as they hardened into sexy nubs. Bending down, he began to suck at one and then the other, using his teeth lightly to make them even harder.
Goliath groaned and then leaned forward and muzzled Liam's neck, using his soft lips and tongue. Goliath softly said, "come on, baby, I want to see bikeboy suck your big-white-dick. Make me happy."
A tingle of sexual energy ran down the Irishman's body. Christ, the cop's tender come-on was even sexier than his threats and slaps.
Liam looked up into Goliath's face which was now smiling - nicely. One helluva handsome son of a bitch, too. The rapid change in the cop's behavior from brutal to butter was just too much. It finally dawned on Liam - the cop's menacing 'stand and deliver routine' was a goddam show the whole time. And that smile I thought was so scary - the bluidy cop was jerkin' me and I fell for it, " he thought with wry admiration.
Liam smiled inwardly and decided that it was time to bring the farce to a close. His dick was aching to be sucked and the thought of splashing his cum all over the redneck's face and chest or in his hot hole made him even harder. But not before he tasted the giant meat of the black bullshitter one more time.
Turning to return the smile, Liam murmured, "ah, me fine Nubian. Before I oblige our sweaty biking friend, would ya kindly swing your meat over here and let me show how the Irish actually saved civilization."
Goliath grinned and grabbed his huge meat. He gently combed his fingers through the tangled mop of Liam's hair, bent down and gave him a slow gentle kiss. Lifting his cock, he eased his dickhead into Liam's willing mouth, savoring the feel of the hot tongue.
GD looked up at the scene and timidly reached out to stroke Goliath's thigh, hairless and thick with veins. Like tree trunks but hot to the touch. He slid his hand along the bulging muscles and with wonder cupped the marble hard curve of the massive ass - harder than his own and with skin so fine it felt like silk. The whole scene confused him - from incipient rape to mindblowing rapture in five seconds.
GD slid his other hand up Liam's leg and stroked the boxer's rigid meat and dangling nuts. So white, so hard. And the other - so black, so big. Both so beautiful. Both men.
Liam continued to suck, his jaws aching and his heart singing. Goliath's balls swung and slapped Liam under his chin. The smell of sweat and talc arose from the cop's crotch, causing Liam's head to spin.
He redoubled his efforts, pivoting his head so he could deep-throat the huge black dick, knowing he would be hoarse for a week. He felt the Goliath's dick start to spasm and knew that the cop was about to blow. He pulled off and to the side just as Goliath began to groan and beat his meat with both hands in a blinding flurry of motion. Like white hot rain, a shower of cum splashed over his hands and onto GD's naked chest, filling the air with the strident odor of jism and sweat.
Liam sat in wonder, watching Goliath's stomach muscles twitch and bunch as the spasms continued. He was close to coming himself. And never was he closer than when Goliath bent over and bestowed another slow, hot kiss on him before turning and gathering up his clothes. The cop moved off into the shadows beyond the light, through the connecting door and was gone.
Watching the two men kissing, GD had felt another weird tug in his chest. God, it was beautiful and hot and upsetting - all at the same time. Something like tears stung his eyes. He knew that, more than anything, he had wanted the cop or the boxer or both to kiss him. Wanted the taste, the touch, the smell of white and black skin, of hard male cock and soft male lips. Wanted to scoop the puddles of sticky cum off his chest, to smell and drink it.
As if GD's thoughts were a shout, Liam turned to him. Green eyes met blue, a smile in one and dismay in the other. GD reached up and touched Liam's cheek and whispered something. The Irishman smiled, leaned forward and murmured, "can't hear ya, mate."
"Kiss me.. kiss me soft."
Liam touched the firmly chiseled lips, now relaxed with passion and wet with Goliath's kisses. He bent his head down and began to kiss the biker, the unshaven beard rasping across his skin as his efforts grew more passionate.
GD was groaning aloud. God, he had never felt anything like this - a sense of doing the right thing after so long, of a music in his head that had nuthin' to do with pot.
The feeling increased as he sensed the Irishman's face drop from his own and felt the hot tongue lapping up the pools of semen from GD's chest. And the biker finally tasted the cop's cum as Liam raised his head and began to french-kiss him. The salty strange taste was a shock to GD but he licked at Liam's lips, eager to drink the last drop, wishing the cop had shot his wad directly into GD's mouth and face, drowning him in cum.
Liam roughly pulled the bike shorts off GD's ankles, greedily sniffed the padding of the crotch and then tossed them aside. He sat back on his feet, simply taking in the hot sight of the sprawled biker.
The ten inch dick was flat against his belly and the shaved balls hung down, slippery with sweat and the run-off from the cop's cum. The tight ass was concealed on the seat but Liam could see the tail end of one of the belt lashes curve around onto the biker's thigh. The kid's torso, shiny with drying cum and sweat was perfectly hairless and smoothly muscled. The angry red tits stood erect and there were the beginnings of bruises on his pecs where the cop had manhandled him. The vein in the punk's neck pulsed wildly as sweat gathered in the hollows of his shoulders. He smelled like cum and sweat and pot - the perfect combination for Liam.
Grabbing the biker's ankles, Liam lifted GD's legs and put them over his shoulders. The biker looked up at Liam, his eyes hot with desire and apprehension. The Irishman spit on his fingers and inserted a single finger into the hole, easing it in gently.
GD groaned and clutched at Liam's shoulders. "No, dude - don't. It hurts too much. Stop, please." As much as the fantasy of fucking excited him, the biker didn't know it would hurt this much.
Liam ignored his plea and grabbed at GD's dick with his other hand, knowing that the biker would be distracted by having an expert hand job. The Irishman spat on the rigid meat and began to glide his fist up and down in slow, easy motions.
It worked. Panting, GD licked his lips and instinctively began to thrust himself forward onto Liam's finger. Liam continued the devastating hand job and snuck a second finger into the hole. Slowly, he began to rotate them, opening up the biker gradually. A third finger followed as the biker began to pant, in increasing agony and passion.
Liam leaned forward and first licked the straining, sweaty muscles of GD's pelvis and then began to suck the biker's dick, wetting the shaft for more fisting. The biker tightened his legs on Liam's shoulder and began to pant, "fuck me, go ahead, please fuck me..now..I want it so bad."
The Irishman smiled. He loved fucking virgins. They were so needy and so grateful. Always one to oblige, that's me. Liam eased his swollen dick forward and teased the lips of the biker's anus, brushing the cock head up and down the opening. He inserted it a tiny amount and then withdrew, watching GD's face.
"Come on, you fucker..stick it in..I can't stand it. Give it to me, please" the biker moaned. Liam spat on his cock and then with steady pressure, thrust his hips forward, watching with ecstasy as the rigid nine inches began to disappear up the punk's ass.
"Oh, shit, oh lord, it hurts..oh man, stop.. you're killin' me.. pull it out..." Too late, my little bikeboy, thought Liam gleefully. With one nasty motion, he stuck the rest of his nine-inch Irish meat in the redneck's inadequately lubricated hole.
GD's butt rose from the seat. His head arched back, face red with agony and the strain of not screaming. Cords of muscles stood out from his neck and sweat poured down his face, burning his eyes and salting his lips. His hands were pressed flat against Liam's chest in a vain attempt to push him away.
Liam waited just long enough for the pain to ease and then began to strop the biker's dick again. With the enormous cock pressing against his prostate, his own screaming dick in the silken grip of his abuser, GD thought he was going to pass out.
Liam bent forward and kissed the agonized face of the biker, first the clenched brow, then each of the closed eyelids and finally that lush hot mouth. GD sighed. Liam withdrew his dick slightly and then plunged in again, fiercely.
Blue eyes fluttered open, pain fading from his face and body as his hole relaxed and began to form itself around the invader. GD still felt as if he were being fucked with a flaming torch but a new feeling was creeping through his ravaged ass and into his nuts - a need to respond, to choke that monster that was eating his insides.
GD experimentally clenched his anal muscles and was startled by a low cry from the butch boxer, almost like the whine of a hound dog in heat. GD drew a ragged breath and clenched again. Liam's head fell backwards, mindlessly lost in lust. Taking advantage of the Irishman's momentary pause in fucking and with an increased sense of sexual power, GD grabbed Liam's erect tits and pinched them savagely.
The simultaneous heaven in his dick and inferno in his tits left Liam gasping for air. GD liked seeing the fucker who had brutally taken his cherry totally helpless. It was payback time.
The biker grabbed at the Irishman's ass, reveling in the bucking muscles and the sweat pouring into the boxer's crack. GD slyly slid his fingers up and down the hairless white cheeks, teasing at the hot hole, causing a fresh moan from the enraptured Liam. Then, without any warning, he plunged two stiff fingers into Liam's anus, as hard and brutally as he could, putting the sinewy strength of his forearms into the motion.
"Keee-rist!" It was the Irishman's turn to arch in agony as GD turned his rough fingers inside the tender hole. With his free hand, GD began punching Liam's baby-soft, alternating with hard flat slaps - fast, hard, without mercy.
As Liam instinctively moved to avoid the sudden assault, GD bore down hard with his hole and trapped Liam's dick in an inescapable grip. This Irish fucker wasn't goin' nowhere, thought GD with a growing feeling of revenge and lust.
Pained green eyes stared down into defiant, sadistic blue ones.
Liam did the only thing he could. "Stop...please stop. I'll do whatever you want." The Irishman hung his head in pained embarrassment as he muttered the words. His ass felt like it was bleeding but his cock was in paradise.
With another flurry of hard spanks, GD spat, "can't hear you, dude."
"Please.. stop...sir." GD smiled. His spanks abruptly stopped and became a gentle sensual motion over the flaming cheeks. He withdrew his fingers from Liam's asshole and held them in front of Liam's face.
"Lick 'em." The Irishman stared down at the gritty nails of the biker, covered with grease, cum and sweat and grimaced. Another hard punch to his ass.
"Okay, okay, alright." Liam began to lick the fingers and felt his reward when GD bucked his hips forwards and back over Liam's imprisoned cock. He was really close to cumming and GD sensed this.
"Pull your dick out..gently. I wanna see you shoot." Liam groaned, wanting to let loose a river of jism in this hole from heaven but not willing to risk another bruise on his lily-white ass. As it was, he wouldn't be able to bare his butt in the gym for a week.
With ease of long practice, Liam began to withdraw from the biker, relishing both the look of relief and disappointment that crossed GD's face. He felt the same way.
He pulled fully out and moving forward, grabbed his own and Liam's dicks with both hands. The biker looked down the length of his own cum-soaked body and watched GD begin to pump the two huge dicks. He reached and grabbed the back of Liam's head, drew him forward, thrusting his tongue in his mouth.
The kiss was more than either could stand. Deep inside each other's mouths, their cries were smothered as they simultaneously climaxed. Spews of cum splashed over both of them, onto Liam's expensive togs, splattering the train seat, even the wall. The moment seemed eternal but was shattered by a crackle of static.
"Attention riders. Our emergency situation has been resolved and we will be moving shortly. We thank you for your patience and hope that the delay hasn't inconvenienced you."
Liam smiled as he backed off the biker. His situation had indeed been resolved. Cum dripped off his cock, his hands, his clothes. GD was just as sodden. The Irishman swabbed himself down with a handkerchief and handed it to GD. The biker unwrapped it and began licking the cum, just silently gazing at Liam.
Liam scrambled back into his clothes, a little embarrassed by the intense scrutiny of the punk he had just fucked and the almost religious fervor with which he lapped up the jism. With a return of his bravado, Liam drew out one of his business cards and carelessly flipped it onto the still-reclining biker. GD dropped the soaked handkerchief and read the card.
Neither said a word as Liam retrieved his briefcase. The Irishman glanced down at the biker and with an impulse he himself did not understand, bent and quickly kissed the biker's sticky mouth. He passed through the same door Goliath had so recently used and was lost to sight.
GD slowly pulled on his shorts. He reached in his bag and pulled out a cycling jersey to replace his ruined T-shirt which he used to clean himself up. He brought the funky cum-soaked wreck to his nose, inhaled deeply and then carefully folded and stowed it in his bag. With every muscle and orifice aching, he rose, unlocked his bike and moved to the exit.
As the train pulled into his stop in the east bay and the doors opened, he looked back onto the scene of his first queer adventure. His first, but for fuckin' sure, not his last.
The end