dcmorgan
Porn Star
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...from my book. Comments welcome 
(...)
I decide to leave. I know I don't have to tell anyone, as no-one will really miss me. They're drinking and having a good time, making out in the corners and fucking in the spare bedroom like good little heterosexuals. I'm tired of the game. Maybe I should just kiss some random guy and see what happens. Instead, I put my Martini glass down and make my way through the crowd until I reach the front door. I haven't had much to drink, as I'm driving, and the cold autumn air clears my head. I see my car straight ahead. It's in the dark, as the street light has gone out. I get as far as to putting the key in the lock when I feel someone's hands on my hips. My initial reaction is to turn around, but I'm not allowed to.
“Relax,” a somewhat familiar voice says, “I've been watching you.”
I don't know how I know, but I know it's the Masked Shagger. Unmasked. It's dark, but I could probably see his face if I turn around. I decide I don't want to, just like I'm sure he doesn't want me to.
“You were at the party?” I ask.
“Briefly. You didn't see me though,” he giggles as his hands run over my chest and stomach. “Close your eyes,” he demands in a low voice, unties the scarf I have around my neck and wraps it around my head to cover my eyes. In one motion he turns me around and we kiss. I embrace him, more than I probably should, but I've missed closeness - any closeness - so much. He doesn't seem to mind, and we end up making out like fourteen-year-olds. I grab hold of his buttocks and he pushes me against the car. In one motion he opens the car door behind me. He sits me in, goes around to the other side and gets in, turns the power on and by the sound of things, the heat. We keep kissing and I can feel that I'll be sore in the morning from his needle-like goatee, but I don't want to worry about that just now. I don't want to worry about anything right now. We end up in a position that causes the gear stick to nearly ride up my arse, but I don't care.
“You've been working out, haven't you?” he moans and cups my right peck. Oh yeah, that's another thing I've kept myself occupied with. I've been to the gym more than usual, and have actually become rather toned. “Move in the back,” he commands and we somehow manage to shift to the back seats. He moves the front seats forward to make more room. We sit next to each other, I rub my mouth, knowing the soreness will show rather badly in the morning. Without a word he opens my shirt, slowly, button by button, until all seven buttons are released from their trapped condition. I can hear he's releasing a sigh as he sees my chest. I smile to myself. I welcome his mouth on my torso, followed by an eager hand feeling its way down towards my belt buckle.
“I want your mouth on my...” I say and push his head down to my now open pants. He pulls my pants until they rest around my thighs so he can access my pleasurable area. Before he does as I wish, however, he kisses me once more.
“You're an amazing kisser,” he informs me and moves downwards. I rest my head between the seat and the steamed window, feeling the tension building up, but I hold back just so I can enjoy it longer. By the sound of things he's enjoying the exercise as well, so I don't feel too bad about making him occupied. He moans lightly and mumbles approving words in between sucking and stroking. Eventually I can't hold back any longer, and start moaning. I'm not sure what does it, but I can't not be somewhat loud when I get close to an orgasm. This makes the man before me speed up his routine and within seconds I'm done. I hear him swallow.
We kiss again. He caresses my chest, removes my pants and makes me lay down on my back in the back seat, still wearing my briefs and open shirt. My left foot is firmly placed on the floor, the right wrapped around his waist. He moves his crotch against my thigh in circular movements. There's hardly any room for the activity we both have in mind, but I'm too tempted, so I rip open his shirt and embrace his exceedingly hairy chest as he rubs it against mine. He doesn't have as much of a barrel as he had last time, so he's obviously been working out as well. He's wearing jeans, so I rip those open too. With much ado, moaning, laughing and grunting, his jeans are on the floor with mine.
“This position isn't gonna work for long,” he giggles.
“Have you got...?”
“Yes, yes...”
More grunting, laughing and shifting later, we're face to face, he caresses my cheek with his hand and kisses my neck. I'm surprised that he would give me this much cuddling and caressing, given the nature of our relationship, but it's lovely. I grab hold of his buttocks again and force him closer, bite his lip until he whimpers lightly in pleasurable pain and he gives it to me. Hard. Just the way he knows I like it.
Miraculously the battery hasn't died during the time it's taken us to finish up. It started out hard and rough, then somehow shifted into soft, loving and rhythmic. To be honest, I've never really felt that close to a man, ever, but I think the weirdness and uncomfortable position (and situation) we were in added to it. He puts me in the driver's seat, leans in and gives me a final kiss, before turning and walking away from the car. I remove the scarf, look in the rear mirror and see his back moving away. Still kind of long, dark hair, a dark jacket and blue jeans. He doesn't turn back.
(...)
Like what you read here? Get the whole thing:
http://www.dcmorganbooks.com
(...)
I decide to leave. I know I don't have to tell anyone, as no-one will really miss me. They're drinking and having a good time, making out in the corners and fucking in the spare bedroom like good little heterosexuals. I'm tired of the game. Maybe I should just kiss some random guy and see what happens. Instead, I put my Martini glass down and make my way through the crowd until I reach the front door. I haven't had much to drink, as I'm driving, and the cold autumn air clears my head. I see my car straight ahead. It's in the dark, as the street light has gone out. I get as far as to putting the key in the lock when I feel someone's hands on my hips. My initial reaction is to turn around, but I'm not allowed to.
“Relax,” a somewhat familiar voice says, “I've been watching you.”
I don't know how I know, but I know it's the Masked Shagger. Unmasked. It's dark, but I could probably see his face if I turn around. I decide I don't want to, just like I'm sure he doesn't want me to.
“You were at the party?” I ask.
“Briefly. You didn't see me though,” he giggles as his hands run over my chest and stomach. “Close your eyes,” he demands in a low voice, unties the scarf I have around my neck and wraps it around my head to cover my eyes. In one motion he turns me around and we kiss. I embrace him, more than I probably should, but I've missed closeness - any closeness - so much. He doesn't seem to mind, and we end up making out like fourteen-year-olds. I grab hold of his buttocks and he pushes me against the car. In one motion he opens the car door behind me. He sits me in, goes around to the other side and gets in, turns the power on and by the sound of things, the heat. We keep kissing and I can feel that I'll be sore in the morning from his needle-like goatee, but I don't want to worry about that just now. I don't want to worry about anything right now. We end up in a position that causes the gear stick to nearly ride up my arse, but I don't care.
“You've been working out, haven't you?” he moans and cups my right peck. Oh yeah, that's another thing I've kept myself occupied with. I've been to the gym more than usual, and have actually become rather toned. “Move in the back,” he commands and we somehow manage to shift to the back seats. He moves the front seats forward to make more room. We sit next to each other, I rub my mouth, knowing the soreness will show rather badly in the morning. Without a word he opens my shirt, slowly, button by button, until all seven buttons are released from their trapped condition. I can hear he's releasing a sigh as he sees my chest. I smile to myself. I welcome his mouth on my torso, followed by an eager hand feeling its way down towards my belt buckle.
“I want your mouth on my...” I say and push his head down to my now open pants. He pulls my pants until they rest around my thighs so he can access my pleasurable area. Before he does as I wish, however, he kisses me once more.
“You're an amazing kisser,” he informs me and moves downwards. I rest my head between the seat and the steamed window, feeling the tension building up, but I hold back just so I can enjoy it longer. By the sound of things he's enjoying the exercise as well, so I don't feel too bad about making him occupied. He moans lightly and mumbles approving words in between sucking and stroking. Eventually I can't hold back any longer, and start moaning. I'm not sure what does it, but I can't not be somewhat loud when I get close to an orgasm. This makes the man before me speed up his routine and within seconds I'm done. I hear him swallow.
We kiss again. He caresses my chest, removes my pants and makes me lay down on my back in the back seat, still wearing my briefs and open shirt. My left foot is firmly placed on the floor, the right wrapped around his waist. He moves his crotch against my thigh in circular movements. There's hardly any room for the activity we both have in mind, but I'm too tempted, so I rip open his shirt and embrace his exceedingly hairy chest as he rubs it against mine. He doesn't have as much of a barrel as he had last time, so he's obviously been working out as well. He's wearing jeans, so I rip those open too. With much ado, moaning, laughing and grunting, his jeans are on the floor with mine.
“This position isn't gonna work for long,” he giggles.
“Have you got...?”
“Yes, yes...”
More grunting, laughing and shifting later, we're face to face, he caresses my cheek with his hand and kisses my neck. I'm surprised that he would give me this much cuddling and caressing, given the nature of our relationship, but it's lovely. I grab hold of his buttocks again and force him closer, bite his lip until he whimpers lightly in pleasurable pain and he gives it to me. Hard. Just the way he knows I like it.
Miraculously the battery hasn't died during the time it's taken us to finish up. It started out hard and rough, then somehow shifted into soft, loving and rhythmic. To be honest, I've never really felt that close to a man, ever, but I think the weirdness and uncomfortable position (and situation) we were in added to it. He puts me in the driver's seat, leans in and gives me a final kiss, before turning and walking away from the car. I remove the scarf, look in the rear mirror and see his back moving away. Still kind of long, dark hair, a dark jacket and blue jeans. He doesn't turn back.
(...)
Like what you read here? Get the whole thing:
http://www.dcmorganbooks.com