Gay Fantasies Come True

“I want your cock. I want to suck your cock. I want you to fuck my ass. I want it.” It came out uncontrollably. Suddenly, I was the slut. The words that I’ve heard uttered by porn sluts were coming out of my mouth.

*****

My company sent me to Las Vegas for a conference. The typical corporate bullshit. They need any reason to justify an all expense paid trip to America’s home of debauchery and sin. Of course, I wasn’t going to object. Fifty dollar a day per diem, a hotel on the strip, and only 8 hours of actual work between two days; sitting and listening to some industry “big shot” to tell us how we can do our jobs better. Worth it.

The room was nothing special. Two beds and a TV. A balcony with two chairs and a small table. It would do. I was young, I was single, and all of this was free. Okay, not all. Since the company paid for the room, the liquor and snacks were off limits. No worries there. As long as I played a little cash on the casino floor, I would have drinks for free. My trick was to seat myself at the bar, play two hands of video poker as slowly as possible. Once the bartender arrived, I would up my bet to the max, order a comped drink, and then return to the minimum bet and enjoy my drink.

After 4 hours of speeches and meet and greets, the first day seemed to have drained all the excitement out of me. A quick shower and change of clothes, and it was time to get a few drinks. After my fourth drink, I was feeling pretty good. A glance at my phone revealed that it was barely 5pm. Good news. I was planning on having a few more before calling it a night.

Just then a loud roar caught my attention. I whipped my head around to find the Craps table. Everybody was high-fiving and jumping for joy. That was the good thing about Craps, you don’t play against each other, you play against the house. Usually, if one person wins, many others do to.

It had been a while since I had played, mostly because it was expensive and I hadn’t had much luck in my experience. But a few drinks deep, I felt fairly confident. The 300 dollars in my pocket was burning a hole. After all, the company covered the trip. Next time I come to Vegas it would be on my own dime, and I’d be out a whole hell of a lot more than a few hundred.

Fuck it! Why not?!

I “cashed out” on the fifteen dollars left on my video poker machine, snatched the ticket from the machine, and left the bar, heading toward the Craps table. Halfway to the table, as the crowd around it settled, I saw him.

No. It couldn’t be him. Not HIM.

I stopped a few paces away from the table. Standing at the end of the table, stood an elated black man who looked dangerously close to one of the male pornstars I frequently searched online. For the sake of discretion, I won’t say his stage name, but he was a well hung, large black star who was infamous for his cock. Not only was it at least 9 to 10 inches, it was thick. Long, thick, and simple put: perfect. I was amazed that the girls could stand to take his whole thing, but then would have to remind myself that they too were pornstars who were paid well to do such things. Still, watching skinny young girls take his cock in the ass was pretty incredible.

I never quite pinpointed what it was about him that made me come back to him, I always figured that if I’m watching porn I want to watch a dirty slut take a huge cock. That’s what it was for.

A spot opened up at the table so I swooped in and placed my money on the table. My heart started pounding. First time in at least two years since the last time I’d played the game. Once the dealer gave me my chips I placed them on the tray before my on the rim of the table.

“Would you like to roll, sir?” The dealer was talking to me. Oh shit. It’s not exactly “cool” to step into the game ahead of the dice. It’s like stealing a throw from the next roller. I looked to the guy next to me.

“All good, go for it.” He responded. “New player, new shooter, new luck. Let’s go!” And with that, the games began.

I won’t bore you with the details of my time as the roller, but I will say that it was long, which is a good thing. No, not good: GREAT! Everyone was making money. I was hitting the point number left and right. I was hitting sevens when they paid out, never when they crapped out. I got so caught up in the game I almost forgot about HIM.

HE was placing bets and racking in the chips. Every time he got paid he looked at me like I was the closest friend he ever had. He slapped my hand across the table multiple times. He even ran around the table after a big win and hugged me from behind, lifting me off the ground and screaming loudly. The Casino suits didn’t exactly take kindly to that particular outbreak.

Roll after roll, chip after chip, I lost track of time. Eventually, the odds played out and I rolled a crap seven. The table groaned for a moment, but quickly turned to applause. Some random people threw me a few chips as a thank you. Many left the table, figuring it was better to quit while they were. They weren’t gonna see another roll like that all night.

I looked down at my chips and noticed that I had accumulated a decent winnings. I asked the dealer to “color me up” so I’d have only large chips to carry to the cashier.

“You leaving?” It was HIM. I looked up at him.

“Yeah. Should get out now. Gotta get up for a conference tomorrow anyways.” I replied, watching them count my chips.

“Not before I buy you a drink! I made 3g’s off you tonight. Best shooter I’ve seen in years.” He placed his chips on the table as well.

“Sir, this is a rather large sum. We’ll handle it for you.” The suit behind the table said, placing the chips on a tray and having security escort another suit and the chips away.

“Come on.” HE said. He walked around the table, I grabbed my winnings and we walked to the cashier.

“You just let them walk away with your chips?” I asked.

“Yeah, I play here all the time. They take care of me.” HE responded nonchalantly. “What’s your drink?”

“I prefer scotch myself.”

“Good. I got a great bottle in my suite. Much higher quality than the shit they call top shelf here.”

Once cashed out by the cashier (just under $1500 if you’re wondering) we headed toward the elevator. I was so elated by what was happening. Sure, the money won was incredible. Best I’d ever done. But, I was hanging out with a celebrity. He was offering me a drink in his suite.

We chatted as we made our way up to his room. He was super cool. Just relaxed, smooth, funny. They say never meet your heroes and maybe they’re right, but he wasn’t a hero… he was a pornstar. If you get a chance to, meet one.

“Oh shit,” I said “I just realized I never even got your name.” A coy attempt, and he saw right through it. He smiled as he opened the door to his suite.

“It’s on the videos,” he winked as he entered, holding the door for me to enter. His suite was sweet. Living room, kitchen and multiple rooms. End to end, ceiling to floor sliding-glass windows displaying the bright lights of the strip below. Multiple bedrooms and a jacuzzi that sat in-lay on the patio which spanned the whole outside of the suite, directly across from the front door.

“Holy shit!”

“That’s what they all say.” He laughed. “Well, that or something similar.” He casually removed his coat, threw it on a chair and walked over to the bar.

“Sorry about the name thing. I didn’t want to put it out there, so to speak.”

“Not at all. Porn is weird like that. People recognize me, but don’t want to because it means they watch porn, even though everyone watches porn. Everyone!” He replied as he poured two drinks. He grabbed the drinks and walked over to me, “But that’s the thing about porn. Everyone watches it, nobody admits it, but here I am all the same. Living this life.”

He handed me the drink and gestured for me to take a seat.

“Well, I still don’t know your name. Other than your porn name.” I said, trying to sound casual as I sat on the sofa. He sat down on a chair across from me.

“My name is Mike. The other name just kinda… sounds cool.” We both laughed. We both drank from our glasses at the same time. Damn, that scotch was smooth. My reaction to the drink didn’t go unnoticed. “Right? I wasn’t joking.”

“The industry serves you well.” I replied. I took another small sip and placed my glass down. I realized suddenly how intoxicated I was. “Whew. My head’s a spinning a little.”

“Well, we were at the table a long time.” I thought back on this; wow. I hadn’t noticed at the time, but playing the game that long I had a waitress feeding me drinks every 20 minutes or so. I looked at my phone and saw that it was now past 10. 5 hours of drinking and gambling.

“Shit, it’s already 10!” I shook my head as I put my phone away. “I guess I played a little longer and drank a little more than I planned.”

“No harm, no foul.” He smiled and took another sip.

“So, where are all the hot girls?” I asked, suddenly bold.

“What?”

“You’re a big shot pornstar. Shouldn’t you have a bunch of girls and a pile of coke on the table?” I laughed to sell the joke. He chuckled lightly.

“It aint all like that.” He took another sip.

“Oh, hey I’m sorry. Wasn’t trying to be an asshole.” He waved me off right away.

“It’s all good,” he said with a smile. “Truth be told, I’ve been striking out with the ladies I’ve been after lately.” I laughed. He didn’t.

“Seriously? You?” it can’t be true.

“Well, here’s the thing. You know what I’m packing, right?” He said it bluntly, and under any other circumstance it would come off as bravado, but we both knew that we both knew the truth.

I nodded.

“Women are scared. At least, the ones who aren’t looking for a huge cock.” He took another sip, I followed his example. “See, guys think girls want a huge cock. But they don’t. They want a good cock, and more importantly a good lover. A huge cock hurts them. They can’t handle it. And the ones who can, usually aren’t the ones you want.”

I hung on his every word. He talked about his “sexcapades” outside of his work as well as the scenes he’s done. We kept drinking and talking, and we became more comfortable with each other. Then, he got bold.

“I mean, honestly. After a while, women get boring. You know?” He looked at me, and I reacted with a shoulder shrug and a nod. “I mean, I like to fuck. I got a big dick. I want to fuck!” He was getting a little animated, but I found it funny. I cracked up, clapping my hands and falling sideways into the sofa for a second.

“Honestly, that’s what’s cool about guys. You can just fuck, and it’s meaningless, and that’s it.” I nodded. But, then I thought about his words. Was he speaking about the sexual nature of men or was he talking about having sex with men? “And men, we get raw. We get… animalistic!” I nodded, again, not fully understanding, again. “I’ve never met a girl outside of porn that I can fuck in the ass. Never! But guys…” he trailed off behind the glass he raised to his mouth for another sip.

Now I got it, but I wasn’t sure I was on board. I laughed a little, but he just sat there, holding the swig in his mouth enjoying the flavor. Our eyes locked for a long moment. I put my drink down.

“So, wait,” I started with a smile, as if to signal that I was on to his nonexistent “joke”. “You’re saying… you fuck guys?”

“Yeah, of course.” He answered so straight forward. His response was almost a question in and of itself, as if he were saying “what of it?” I tried to compose myself a little, but the booze didn’t help.

“No, hey, I’m not judging. I’m just surprised is all.”

“Why? I’m a sexual person. That’s why I do porn. I have the dream job. I get to fuck for money and it’s 100% legal.” We both laughed. But then he leaned forward and became serious, though still warm and friendly.

“Look. I like to fuck. I don’t care who I’m fucking, as long as it is pleasurable to the both of us. If it’s a man, if it’s a woman it’s all the same to me. It’s pleasure.” I nodded, but he could tell I wasn’t exactly understanding. “Look. Think about women. A woman can have sex with men and say that she’s straight. And then, she can have a fling, or multiple sexual flings with other women, but no one calls her “gay”… they just accept that she is a woman who had sex with another woman. Right?”

I nodded, this time fully understanding. I had many female friends, even girlfriends who had sexual encounters with other women.

“So why are guys so hung up about having same sex encounters? It’s just sex. You feel good for a short period of time, and then you move on with your life. Simple as that.” He sat back and took the last sip of his scotch.

I finished mine as well, thinking about his words. He had a point. While I was, and still am not “gay”, I would be lying if I said I never had a random thought, fantasy, or sexual dream about another man. Usually, they were met with immediate expulsion from my thoughts, but why?

“I see what you’re saying. But, like you said guys are hung up about these things. And, there’s a difference between fucking and being fucked. Guys aren’t used to being fucked. Generally, we do the fucking.” I replied. He smiled widely and nodded.

“True. Very true.” Mike stood up. “Another?” He shook his empty glass in front of me while grabbing my also empty glass.

“Sure, I can sneak in some sleep during the seminars tomorrow.” I laughed at my joke, Mike just poured the drinks.

“What you said is right. Giving up control is hard, sexually.” He finished pouring, walked over and handed me my drink. I grabbed the glass but he didn’t yield it right away. We locked eyes. “But when you do, you find a greater pleasure than you’ve ever experienced.” He released the glass. I almost dropped it. The condensation on the glass, I told myself.

We sat in a silence for what felt like minutes, but truly it was maybe a few seconds. He leaned forward again.

“You’ve never been curious at all?” He asked frankly, looking me straight in the eye. For a moment I felt it: arousal. My cock moved in my pants suddenly. It wasn’t erect, but it was getting ready.

“No,” I tried to lie cooly. He tilted his head, considering my lie. “I mean, no. Not really.” He nodded and sat back. “I mean, I’m not against that stuff. I’ve even done stuff with girls. You know. Fingers and stuff.” I didn’t know what I was trying to say or trying to justify. I once let a girlfriend peg me with her strapon, but that was a girl.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He replied. “Look, I’m gonna hop in the hot-tub.” He stood as he spoke. “You can join me if you like, or you can head back to your room. No offense either way.” He turned and began to walk toward the patio, toward the jacuzzi. I looked at the door. I should’ve left. That would’ve been the practical thing to do. But, instead I turned and looked at him as he approached the patio.

“I don’t have any shorts.” I called out. He turned, with a smile on his face.

“And?” He pulled his shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes, and dropped his pants, including his underwear, to his ankles. His beautiful dark skin was silhouetted by the lights of the tub and the surrounding environment. As he raised his leg to step into the boiling water, I was able to see the full shape and figure of his legendary cock. As if in slow motion it hung there and then began to fall into the water.

I couldn’t believe it. My cock got hard. How was I supposed to do anything but sit there? If I stood up and left with a hard cock making an attempt to escape my pants he could see it and know I was turned on and afraid. On the other hand, if I entered the jacuzzi with a hard-on that would be the same as saying I’m full go and ready for this. And then it was just then that the thought crossed my mind; WHY am I turned on? This is a man. A strong, physically intimidating, well hung man who fucks for a living. And his naked visage has me horny? He had a point earlier. Do women think the same way before their sexual encounters? Or do they just go in full steam in full confidence of their sexuality?

Two clear options. Get up and walk out the door, turning down the opportunity. Or, get up and enter the hot tub and see what happens. Find out what I’m willing to do. Let myself go.

I stood up. My pants were uncomfortable as I moved. But my direction was clear and my discomfort was short-lived. The clothes fell to the floor and the warmth of the water met my body with a surge of energy. As I sat in the pool, Mike and I met eyes. He said nothing, as if waiting for me to ask for it.

“So how does this work?” Shakingly, I wasn’t sure how I mustered the strength to speak first, but there it was. Naked in the water together, all the cards were shown. My heart pounded, my breath shortened waiting for the response. He relished the pause.

“I’m going to fuck you.” He finally said. My cock had never been harder. “You’re going to suck my cock, I’m going to fuck you, and you’ll never touch your own cock.” I perked up. At the moment it was already difficult to resist the urge to touch myself, once the act started? How could I? As if he read my mind, he responded, “don’t worry, I will keep you from touching your cock.”

We sat there looking at one another. No one made any movement. He tilted his head slightly and then spoke. “Say you want it.” He said it softly, but directly. “Say you want it, or leave. There can be no grey area here.”

And there it was. The moment. I could leave, a virgin in the homosexual sense. Or I could utter the words and give myself over to a man whom I knew had a large cock and would use it on my in an aggressive way. I could hate every minute of it. I could love every second of it. My cock pulsed under the water, almost as if to pull me into the act.

“I want it.” The words came out, soft but direct.

“What do you want?” He replied.

“I want your cock. I want to suck your cock. I want you to fuck my ass. I want it.” It came out uncontrollably. Suddenly, I was the slut. The words that I’ve heard uttered by porn sluts were coming out of my mouth… and what was even more frightening, they were true.

Mike reached out and grabbed me by the arm. In one swift motion he pulled me into his grasp so that I was now seated in his lap. He positioned my arms so they crossed my front. It was as if I was a puppet and he was the master. His legs were closed together, hiding his bulge. My legs rested directly above, arched around spooning his. My ass rested right about his crotch. He clutched me tightly, enforcing his control upon the situation.

“Say it again,” he whispered into my ear. Although a whisper, it seemed more powerful than a yell, than a command. It was his voice demanding my will.

“I want your cock. I want to suck your cock. I want your cock in my ass.” I replied weakly. The shaking in my voice seemed to only excite him. His hips began to thrust slightly against my ass. My hips swung with his. His legs parted slightly, and the excitement within me began to boil. Was I about to feel the legendary cock against my skin?

But no. It did not reveal itself yet. The motion of our hips continued. His hands continued to restrain my arms, but slowly his right hand slackened and slid along the side of my body down to my hip. His hand groped and grabbed my ass check. His hand continued to guide itself lower and found it’s way to the crack of my ass. His hand began to rub against my hole. He focused his middle finger on my anus, toying with it from the outside. I pressed my ass against the sensation and his finger slid halfway into my ass with little effort. My lips let one small moan escape. He took this as permission to force the finger completely in. Once he did, I was glad. It felt good, but after a moment it was so small and lackluster. I wanted more.

“Say it again.” He demanded with his whisper. He forced a second finger into my ass. I wasnt ready for it, and it shot a combination of pain and pleasure through me.

“I want your cock! I want you to fuck my ass!” My words were louder. They were direct. Instead of begging, I was demanding. It was the opposite of what I feared this could be. I wasn’t submitting, I was as much in control as ever. I wanted this. “Fuck my ass!”

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