The bar was loud and dark, but I spotted him right away. Tall, broad shoulders, stubble that looked rough against his jaw. He caught my eye, smirked, and bought me a drink without asking. We didn't talk much. His name was Derek. Mine didn't matter. By the time we hit his apartment door, his hand was already down my jeans, fingers wrapping around my cock like he owned it.
"Get these off," he growled, yanking my shirt over my head. I kicked my pants away and he shoved me onto the bed. Derek stripped fast, his thick cock already hard and leaking. He climbed on top, grinding our dicks together, the slick heads rubbing and smearing precum between us. I grabbed his ass and pulled him tighter, hips bucking up to meet every thrust.
"Fuck, you're big," I muttered. He laughed low and wrapped his fist around both our cocks, stroking them together in one rough grip. The friction burned in the best way. I thrust into his hand, feeling every vein on his shaft slide against mine. Pre-cum made it messy and wet. Derek leaned down and bit my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
He flipped me onto my stomach without warning. "Ass up." I pushed my knees apart and he spread my cheeks, spitting right on my hole. One thick finger pushed in, then two, stretching me open fast and dirty. I groaned into the sheets while he finger-fucked me, twisting and scissoring until I was pushing back on his hand.
"Want my cock?" he asked, voice gravel.
"Yeah. Fuck me."
Derek lined up and shoved in halfway on the first thrust. The burn was sharp and perfect. He didn't wait, just pulled back and slammed the rest of the way home. His balls slapped against me with every stroke. I reached down and jerked my own cock in time with his pounding. The bed slammed against the wall. Sweat slicked our skin. He grabbed my hips hard enough to bruise and fucked me like he was trying to split me open.
"Take it," he snarled. "Your tight hole feels so fucking good around my dick."
He pulled out, flipped me again, and shoved my legs over his shoulders. This angle hit deeper. His cock dragged over my prostate on every thrust and I started leaking steadily onto my stomach. Derek leaned in and kissed me messy, tongues sliding, teeth clashing. He tasted like whiskey and heat. I reached between us and stroked him while he was still inside me, feeling my own stretched rim gripping him.
"Jack me while I fuck you," he ordered. I did, fist tight around his base, feeling every pulse. He picked up speed until the only sounds were skin slapping skin and our rough breathing. My orgasm hit without warning, cum shooting up my chest in thick ropes. Derek kept pounding through it, chasing his own. When he came he buried himself deep and stayed there, pulsing hot inside me, filling me until it leaked out around his cock.
We didn't stop there. After a few minutes he pulled out, flipped me onto my side, and slid back in from behind. Slower this time but just as filthy, one hand around my throat, the other jerking my half-hard cock until I was ready again. We fucked until the sheets were soaked and both of us were shaking. When he finally pulled out the second time, his cum dripped down my thighs. I reached back and pushed two fingers into myself, feeling the mess he'd left, then sucked them clean while he watched.
Derek's eyes darkened. "Round three," he said, already hard again.
We kept going until the sky outside started to lighten. By then we were both sore, marked up, and grinning like idiots. No promises, no numbers exchanged. Just raw, dirty satisfaction that left us wrecked in the best way.
