Jorge

I saw Jorge from across the dimly lit bar, I’d actually been watching him for a few weeks now. He wasn’t large in stature, but then, neither was I. He had the body of a dancer, his cute little Latino ass so firm you just wanted to bite it. I’d been too shy to approach the man, despite his friendly demeanor. He seemed to be friends with every guy at the bar and always had a smile on his face. He didn’t strike me as the type to be a jerk if I sent him a drink. Nonetheless, I never did, I just watched him from the smoky depths of my corner booth. The music had a local flavor, not your typical loud, thumping disco, but rather the high pitched sound of Tejano dance music. Most of the men here were Cuban, Puerto Rican, or South American and I loved to watch them dance. They really knew how to work those hips on a dance floor. Trying to remain discreet, I lit a smoke and scanned the rest of the joint. Two men in the far corner were having oral sex, another pair was kissing feverishly in a dark booth and a few others danced the entire dance floor. It was my last cigarette, so I got up to go to the cigarette machine in the back by the men’s room. A bulletin board over the payphone had advertisements for professional massages, personal escorts, and even a phone sex line. I reached for a phone sex tear off with the number on it and thought to myself, what the hell, it always seemed like something fun. Before I could put the tear off in my pocket, a small hand gently grabbed my wrist. I turned to find Jorge. I grew solid red with embarrassment. I smiled like an idiot and tried to explain I’d never done it before and was curious. But Jorge’s smooth finger pressed my lips shut. "You don’t need that," he whispered, "Jorge is here for you." The slim, but muscular man, slipped his body between mine and the cigarette machine, staring into my eyes with his dashing smile, his face was inviting. He held my stare as he unbuckled his belt and let his tweed blend pants fall down to his sandals. I stood there, dumbfounded, as if I’d never had a man before. Jorge remained, silent, smiling, inviting. I dropped to my knees and took Jorge’s cock in my mouth and started to suck him off. I felt his hands slip into my thick hair, and before I could really get busy, he pulled me back to my feet. "No, no," he whispered, "Jorge is your bitch tonight." With that, Jorge turned his back on me and leaned over the cigarette machine. His knees bent, legs spread as far as the pants around his ankles would allow, he stood there, prone, open, waiting. My cock was throbbing in my pants, trying to bust out on its own, so I quickly shed my pants and briefs. Jorge’s ass was so firm; I dug my fingers into him and spread him wide. Jorge didn’t move. I rubbed my dick between his legs, against his balls for a few minutes then buried my cock deep inside the Latinos fuck hole. Jorge pushed himself back against me, squatting now, with his arms extended, hands pressed against the face of the machine, back arched, ass high and accepting. I grabbed his hips and started thrusting my cock in and out. Jorge didn’t move a muscle, he kept his ass still and firm against my pumping and I could hear myself slap up against him with every hard thump. The cigarette machine rattled against the wall and I wondered briefly if anyone would come back to see what was going on. At this point, I didn’t fucking care, I just kept fucking Jorge as deep as I could. I grabbed onto the top of the cigarette machine, leaning over the submissive Latino and fucked him deeper still. I could see his face in the reflection of the vending machine’s glass. His eyes were squeezed tight, forehead wrinkled downward and his smile was gone. This image drove me insane and I started to pound Jorge with even more fury. He never moved, not once, not one single twitch. He was right, he was my bitch tonight, and he was a good bitch too. Took my shaft hard and deep and never once complained. I grabbed Jorge’s shoulders, and pushed him downward toward the floor. Obediently, he pressed his hands to the floor, keeping his ass up and knees bent, remaining solid in his stance. I turned around, to straddle him sideways, dick twisting in his asshole, and continued to fuck him hard. My furious thrusts slamming into him like a pile driver, by balls surged with each slap against his firm buttock. I could feel my load started to well. I grabbed onto the cigarette machine one last time, bit down on my lip and ripped into him as hard as I could until I brought my load on inside him. My face started to contort as I wanted to groan aloud, each slamming thrust sending another spurt of jism in this brown skinned beauty’s tasty fuckhole. I rammed Jorge until I could ram no more, and when I’d finally sent my last hot shot of spoo down his chute, I stepped back and wiped the sweat from my brow. I was actually somewhat out of breath. Jorge grabbed his pants as he pulled himself upright and redressed as he walked into the men’s room. I pulled my pants back up, bought my cigarettes, then slipped out the back door. I left the phone sex number behind, Jorge was right, I didn’t need it.