My First Cruising: A Stranger and His Impossible Cock

Marina came back from Asturias hornier than a bitch in heat. During the drive from the station to home, it took a miracle to keep her still; she kept putting her hands all over me until I swore that the moment we crossed the door she could do whatever she wanted to me, but for God's sake, please let me drive in peace.

As soon as we went inside, she pounced on me, tore my clothes off, and dragged me into the living room. Between the sofa and the carpet, she wrung my balls dry. When she was done, my ass was raw, my hole was burning, and my buttocks were purple from all the spanking and biting. I couldn't even eat dinner; I collapsed into bed like a sack of potatoes, and I had to get up early the next morning.

On Thursday I finished my shift at seven and got home exhausted. Marina was waiting behind the door, wrapped in a red negligee, thigh-high stockings, and a smile that promised nothing good. She took me by the hand to the cellar, sat me down in the armchair, and made me undress so she could cut my hair. Then she led me to the bathroom. On the cabinet were a ceramic bowl, a huge enema bulb, and a bottle of lubricant.

“We’re going to have some fun,” she said. “I’ll clean you out first.”

I stammered something, but she was already bending me over the toilet with one leg on either side. She spread lubricant over my anus with her fingertip, patiently inserted the nozzle, and began pumping in the lukewarm water while explaining the technique as though she were giving a lesson. Four times. The last two, the water came out clean. Then she put me in the shower.

When I returned to the bedroom, Marina had taken off her clothes and was wearing a harness with a black dildo growing from her clitoris. We embraced, she bit my nipples—she knows they drive me wild—and pushed me onto the bed.

“I’ve missed my cock so much,” she said, and licked my prick from my balls to the glans before swallowing it whole.

She took it down her throat, sucking greedily, and stuck a finger in my ass while squeezing my balls. I thought I was going to die. I came in her mouth a few minutes later, with a roar that must have been heard from the street, and she swallowed every drop without pulling away.

Then she made me stand up, bend over the edge of the bed, and spread my legs wide. She licked my hole, filled it with saliva and lube, and began fingering me. Two fingers. Three. Four. Her thumb. Before I knew it, her whole hand was inside me, and she was looking at me with a smile that made me tremble.

“Marina, no… don’t you dare,” I begged.

“Hold on, my little boy. Hold on.”

Millimeter by millimeter, she pushed until my sphincter gave way with a wet snap and her wrist disappeared inside me. The pain was tearing, and the pleasure unbearable. My legs were shaking, sweat poured off me, and I could no longer tell one sensation from the other. When she began moving her arm inside me, I felt a tide rising from my belly. I came without a hard cock, in a long spurt that left me empty and dazed. Marina slowly pulled out her hand, grabbed the harness, and rode me as though nothing had happened, thrusting until she came too, panting against my ear.

***

At the end of September, I had a week off. Marina couldn't get away until Friday, so we arranged for me to go alone on Monday to the apartment we had in La Barrosa. I left work, took the car, and arrived in the middle of the afternoon. I changed, went down to the beach, swam in the sea, and then had dinner at our usual beach bar.

On Tuesday morning I woke up with a hard cock and a heat that wouldn't let me breathe. I remembered my session with Marina and—damn my mind—I also remembered Bruno, that bastard who had taken my ass for the first time months earlier. I came close to writing to him. I stopped myself.

Rummaging through the closet, I found one of Marina's negligees and a pair of black stockings. I put them on. I looked at myself in the mirror and liked what I saw. I sent her pictures. She replied immediately with a list of filthy things she planned to do to me on Friday. My fever rose another notch. I got in the shower, soaped myself slowly, and, while I was at it, took the handle of the hairbrush and stuck it up my ass while jerking off. I came like a bull. And it still wasn't enough.

I stepped out of the shower with an idea in my head. I picked up my phone and searched online for cruising in La Barrosa. Several places came up. I ruled out the two closest to home—I didn't want to run into any neighbors—and settled on one beyond El Tinajón beach bar, a couple of kilometers along the shore, beside a lone eucalyptus tree and some small dunes. I went down to the pharmacy, bought an enema bulb, gave myself an enema the way Marina had taught me, and set off walking along the beach with my backpack over one shoulder.

***

I found the place without any trouble. There weren't many people: two or three silhouettes sunbathing naked and a couple of fishermen far away by the water. I spread my towel beside the cliff, stripped naked, covered myself in suntan lotion, and sat down to wait. I was beginning to get bored when I saw him coming down the dunes.

He was extremely tall—around six foot three—broad-shouldered, with very dark skin and several days' growth of black beard. He stopped, looked around, and came straight toward me.

“Good afternoon. Do you mind?”

“Of course not.”

He placed his towel a few inches from mine, took off his swim trunks, and sat down. I nearly choked on my own saliva. He had balls like a bull's and a monstrous cock, thick, with a large, dark glans. Mine, according to Marina, is a good six inches. That thing easily topped seven and a half. And it was wide—very wide.

I took a joint from my cigarette case and asked whether it bothered him. He gave me a sardonic look over his sunglasses.

“Depends. What is it?”

“Marijuana.”

“If you share, it doesn't.”

He moved closer, we lit the joint, and started talking. His name was Nikos—Nikolaos, really—a thirty-two-year-old German, the son of a Greek father and a Syrian mother. An engineer. Married to a man from Almería. He was in La Barrosa for work, supervising the installation of some machinery at a hotel.

“How did you find this place?” I asked him.

“Same as you, I imagine. Looking online.”

The distance between us was now barely a breath. It was inevitable. We kissed, first slowly and then with tongues, biting each other's lips. Nikos pushed me onto my back, climbed on top of me, and moved his hand down to grab my cock. He squeezed it. He stroked my balls. His fingers moved down toward my hole, and at that moment I remembered the fishermen.

“Wait. The fishermen…”

“They're far away. They aren't looking.”

“Even so, not here.”

“Where are you staying?”

“A couple of kilometers away. Let's go.”

We gathered up our towels and raced off along the beach. When we crossed the apartment's door, Nikos trapped me against the wall. We kissed with a desperation that didn't belong to the mouth but to the whole body. I made him pull back for a second so we could get the sand off. I poured him a whiskey with ice and got in the shower. When I came out, wearing only a sarong around my waist, he was naked on the sofa.

“Good Lord,” I murmured.

“I've been dying to get my hands on you.”

I sent him into the shower, prepared another joint, and waited sitting down. He returned with water glistening on his skin and his cock already half-hard. He sat beside me, I passed him the joint, and he leaned back, closed his eyes, and spread his legs. That cock pointed at the ceiling like a mast.

I knelt between his legs, gripped the base with both hands, pulled the skin down, and slowly licked his glans. I spat on it. I coated it thoroughly and opened my mouth. I could only fit half of it. I began bobbing my head, sucking hard, gripping his balls with one hand.

“Gluck, gluck, gluck…” The sound filled the room.

“Mmm, yes, you know how to eat a cock,” he panted.

I tried to take him deeper and gagged. My eyes filled with tears. He put his hand on the back of my head and pushed me a little farther. I felt his glans striking my uvula. He held me there for a few seconds and then let me go. I coughed, and a thick strand of saliva fell from my mouth. I stroked his cock, slick with spit. I loved the sound it made as I rubbed it.

“Come here,” he said, and kissed me with my own saliva still filling his mouth.

I led him by the hand to the bedroom. I sat on the bed to go down on him again, but he stopped me.

“No more blowjobs. Get on all fours.”

I obeyed. He positioned himself behind me, caressed my buttocks, bit them, fondled my cock, and then lowered his mouth to my ass. He licked my perineum with his flat tongue, moved up to my hole, pressed the tip against it as though he wanted to penetrate me with his tongue, sucked, bit my cheeks, and went back to sucking. He drove me crazy.

“Lube?” he whispered.

“On the nightstand, damn it, on the nightstand.”

I felt the cold gel sliding over my hole. Nikos applied it slowly, in circular motions, and slipped one finger all the way in without resistance. Then another. He opened and closed them, stretching me, playing with me.

“This ass is hungry,” he whispered. “Ready?”

“It's impossible to be ready for that monster. Fuck me.”

He pulled out his fingers, positioned himself behind me, and rubbed his glans between my buttocks. I felt the tip against my sphincter. He began to press, very slowly. I pushed backward to help him. The head worked its way in little by little, until the ring suddenly gave and a bolt of pain shot all the way up my back. Tears sprang to my eyes.

“Oh, Nikos, stop, stop…” I whimpered, biting the sheet. “Pull it out, please.”

“Shhh, hold on a little. You'll see, it'll pass.”

He kept pressing, millimeter by millimeter, and the cock kept entering. When I began to think there was no room for any more, his balls slapped against mine. He was all the way in. I reached one hand behind me and grabbed his balls to make sure. He was buried to the root.

He stayed still for a few seconds, waiting for me to accommodate his size. Then he began to move. He pulled almost all the way out and drove back into me with a thrust of his hips. Slowly at first, then faster, deeper.

“Oh, Mommy, yes, like that, yes…” I moaned with my face crushed against the mattress.

“Fuck, what an ass. It's so tight.”

Nikos's pubic bone slapped against my buttocks with a dry, rhythmic clap. The whole apartment smelled of sweat and fucking. I begged him for more, begged him to kill me, and he answered by driving deeper, gripping my hips so I couldn't get away.

When I was completely at his mercy, when my ass was burning and my legs were shaking, Nikos pulled out abruptly. It made a wet pop, and I felt the emptiness. He turned me over, lifted my legs onto his shoulders, and drove into me again, all the way, in a single thrust.

“Aaah!” I screamed.

He leaned over me, covered my mouth with his, and pushed his tongue as deep as he pushed his cock. His balls struck mine. Sweat soaked us; the room smelled of man, of sex, of a long fuck. And then that sensation Marina had taught me to recognize began again: a tide rising from my belly, climbing and climbing until it exploded in my head. My body went limp. A jet of semen burst from my flaccid cock without anyone touching it.

“Daddy, I'm coming,” Nikos groaned, and gave me one last thrust, burying his cock to the root.

I felt him tremble inside me, the contractions of his glans releasing hot spurts of his cum deep in my ass. We stayed wrapped in each other's arms for a long while, panting and drenched. When he pulled out of me, I felt the hot semen running down my thighs, and I didn't care about anything.

In the end he left, after another joint and another whiskey. We exchanged numbers. He never wrote to me again. Until a couple of months ago, that is—but what happened when he reappeared is another story.