Marked for Love 1 (3 page)

God, he looked hot, and I couldn’t help but see his bulge rising up in his soaked denim jeans. I could see the full outline of how long and thick he was. He seemed to move his semi-hard cock up and down, twitching it under my sheepish glance, as if it were beckoning me to sit on it. I wouldn’t have dared with how much he intimidated me. He couldn’t be flirting with me: not someone as handsome and strong as him. Believe me, I wasn’t about to get my ass kicked by misreading what was happening, so I stayed on my side. He had to be straight.

“So, Nathan, tell me about yourself,” he said in a gravelly, low voice.

Had I told him my name? I must have. How else would he know?

“Oh, well, I’m 21 years old. I’m from Hillsboro, actually, originally, and...”

“No, no.” He seemed angered by my lack of understanding as to how he wanted to be answered. “What I want is for you to tell me about your likes, your dislikes. What turns you on, what turns you off?” Now for sure I saw his lips rise in the same wicked grin I thought I saw in the truck. That smile transformed him from intimidating to absolutely malicious.

I swallowed hard around the knot in my throat. Had I heard him correctly? Did he actually ask me what turned me on? And if I did, was I misinterpreting it?

I decided to play it safe. “Oh, well
...I like lots of things: reading, animals...”

“Animals?” he said, opening his eyes and lifting one thick eyebrow. “What type of animals, Nathan?”

I felt like my answer carried a heavy weight. He was staring at me intensely. Again I felt like I was being sized up. “Cats.”

“Hate cats
.” He dismissed my answer with a quick, angry shake of his head.

“Um...re
ptiles...”

“They’re all right. What about wildlife? What about dogs? How do you feel about wolves?”

“Oh, they kind of scare me, actually. Well you see, it’s mostly a long story, but I got bitten by one a long time ago. It was on a trip I took with my dad…well, my brother was actually there too. And I don’t know, I haven’t shaken that completely, you know?” Instinctively I rubbed the scar around my wrist, remembering the fear and pain that caused it.

Now a smirk spread across his lips
. “You’ve got no reason to be scared of wolves. You respect them, they respect you. Canines are the most loyal of all the animal life.” His voice got deeper the more he talked. I was pinned to my seat under his piercing green eyes. “They treat you the way you deserve, however you deserve it. They know how to please you, but then and again...they like to be pleased too. A good dog will defend you to the end, be there by your side, any time you need them, want them, but then...they expect to be shown
gratitude
.” His emphasis on
gratitude
made my shoulders tremble.

He broke his gaze with me to thrust his hips out to adjust himself
, and he unmistakably had a hard-on.

When he caught me staring, I didn’t even try to hide it. I revelled in how thick it was, threatening to pop the button on his wet pants. He returned my stare, sizing me up without reservation. His gaze traveled over my smaller shoulders, down the curve of my hunched back, and rested on the crotch of my sweat pants. My smaller hard-on was unmistakable, tenting up the front of my pants, begging to be let out. Not a word was said. Drips of water ran off us and splashed mutely against the thick carpet. I was so riveted, so eager, that I couldn’t even be embarrassed that I was messing up a stranger's carpet and nice furniture. Outside, the weather beat down relentlessly. The window took the full brunt of the wind and rain, but it was built sturdy enough to withstand such things. As with the rest of the house, it was erected with enough care to make sure it was of high quality. I could see through the cracks in the heavy velvet drapes that clouds in the distance were starting to lift away, revealing the full yellow moon.

“Are you hungry, Nathan?” he asked me, his white and sharp teeth glistening. It wasn’t an offer of hospitality: it was a warning. A warning that he was about to serve me something I would not refuse.

I wanted what he had. My head nodded, and my heart pounded so hard, I could hear it in my throat.

His strong hands reached down for his zipper, unbuttoning the first button, then slowly unzipping his fly. “How about some of this?”

And then
, as if on cue, his massive cock snaked out. It was huge and dripping, a mushroom head that was plump and just begging to be sucked.

“Get over here,” he commanded as the moonlight was starting to creep in through the blinds. I couldn’t help but wonder if my mind was playing tricks on me, but he seemed to be getting even more hairy than before.

I was so nervous that I was shaking. I was drawn to him, as if some animalistic part of me that needed cock inside me, and I knew better than to disobey. But my fear got the better of me and I balked. Glued to my spot, across the living room from him, I did not move at his command. I knew I was making a mistake: I should have obeyed immediately, and I imagined I would be punished for not doing so.

“Now,” he instructed, with a voice that meant business. This time I did not hesitate. I climbed over to him on my hands and knees, like a dog obeying his master’s command to heel. My mouth opened wide
, as I couldn't imagine I’d be able to fit that huge tool in my mouth. He grabbed me by the back of my head, a fistful of hair in his right hand.

“Open your mouth wider,” he instructed. His raised his left hand to warn me that hesitation would earn me swift punishment.

“But...” I started to grumble. The look in his eyes shut me up.

“Wider...” he commanded, his voice getting more husky.

I obeyed silently.

“Wider...”

I did what I was told, and he plunged his cock in my mouth. He kept his right hand on the back of my head, still gripping my hair, so that he controlled how he shoved his cock in and out of my mouth. My vision was reduced to nothing more than his crotch. I had no peripheral vision. In that moment, my whole world was that massive cock and patch of thick, hairy pubic hair.

“Fucking suck it right, bitch,” he told me as he let go of the back of my head, and it was my pleasure. It glided into my mouth and down my throat. It was salty from sweat and pre-cum, and somehow it tasted like it was seasoned to perfection. I put both hands on either side of his hips, so I could have a better position.

Mmm...his cock tasted so good. I slid it through my funnelled lips, gripping it with just the right suction that I knew would please him.

He leaned back his head back, his shoulders and neck arching. “Oh, yeah, good boy, that’s what I like. Give it to me good. Good boy.” He was all man. I released his dick and moved quickly down to suckle his balls. My pink lips circled his massive, hairy balls, and I reached back up to jerk his shaft.

“Oh, God,” he said, and I knew this was one of his G-spots. I intended to spend as much time as I needed there to make my man feel good. Every time he tightened his muscles in pleasure, I put more suction and more force on that spot to keep the sensation lasting. He smelled so good, musty and salty, but with a sweet scent that made me want more. I cupped his balls in my mouth, circling my tongue around each, slowly at first, then quickly, which seemed to drive him wild. The moaning continued and he gripped the leather arm of the seat. His grip was so large and intense that it engulfed the arm chair and made me fear that he was going to break it off.

I squeezed his balls in my mouth, sucking and playing with them with my tongue like they were candy. I held his balls against the roof of my mouth and snaked my
tongue to that tender spot, right before you enter the butthole. His response was an uncontrollable spasm that made me run my tongue back and forth with more pressure. He clenched and gripped onto the chair, his long fingernails piercing through the leather in glorious pain and unbelievable pleasure.

The more he moaned, the more he groaned, the more he growled, the more I wanted to please him. I was aching to satisfy him. I was drunk with ecstasy, and I wanted to do whatever I needed to do to keep him happy. He seemed to be getting more aggressive, and for a moment, almost as if my eyes played tricks on me, it seemed as if his hair was getting shaggier and his fingernails longer, sharper
, and darker. The hair on the back of my neck stood up again, a weak animal’s late instinct that danger was near. But there was nothing I could do to avoid his danger now. I had fallen victim, like I was his defenceless prey.

The moonlight was starting to creep into the living room. He hadn’t bothered to turn a light on, so it lit up the room. Suddenly, with no warning at all, Buck got up and stormed into the completely darkened kitchen.

The blood drained out of my face. He was angry, I was sure of it. His boots pounded across the floor with threatening steps until he was out of sight. I was heartbroken. Had I done something wrong? I wanted to tell him that I would do it right. He just had to tell me when I messed up. I didn’t mean to. I thought he was enjoying it.

“Take a shower,” he growled from behind the shadows.

I got up, starting to walk to him, to show him that I wanted to please him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“Go!” he bellowed. The sharpness in his tone terrified me. It made my heart skip a beat, and the way he left no room for disagreement turned me on. Trembling and afraid to ask questions for fear of retribution, I desperately looked around for a bathroom. Sighing, obviously sensing my fear, Buck gave me more instruction from the kitchen
. “Okay, Nathan, you come back into the hallway, then take a right. Walk all the way down and the bathroom is on the left.”

Even though he shouldn’t have been able to, I felt like Buck could see me through the darkness. Only animals should have eyesight that sharp. Still, I felt his hunter’s gaze follow me as I stumbled back to the hallway. The moon had slipped back behind thick clouds so there was no way for me to see where I was going. My right hand made contact with the doorway. I moved around its corner and fumbled along the wall for a light switch. My efforts were rewarded with a sharp, “Don’t!” from Buck, so I gave up on finding the switch and instead stumbled along the wall down the hall. Suddenly I was very afraid in this house. I could see nothing, I had no idea if someone or something else was there. I was walking in an abyss that felt harsh, unforgiving, threatening.

“There are clean towels in the linen closet to the right,” I heard him say in a softer tone. Maybe he could sense my fear the same way a dog might sense your unhappiness. I appreciated the softer tone which made me all the more sorry for displeasing him.

Maybe I had sucked too hard. Maybe I hadn’t done it fast enough or hard enough, or maybe it was too hard or too fast. I wish he had just given me another slap, like he did the first time, instead of punishing me like this. The insecurities inside me began crowding my mind. I’d been rejected by so many men in the past. Ever since my father kicked me out of the house, I’d done whatever I could to survive. It was hard to make it on your own. I never had a steady income, so when the sporadic work I did had slowed down, I became desperate enough to consider every option. Unfortunately, that had meant sometimes bedding men I’d never normally even give two looks at for the night, just to have a place to rest my head. I hated myself for stooping so low, but sleeping with one man was much better than sleeping on the street and risking being attacked and used by several men.

Many of the men I stayed with had done what they wanted to me, and then after one or two times, tossed me aside, never to hear from them again. I often wondered if there was something wrong with me. Was I not attractive enough? Was I simply not any good in the sack? I tried to do what they wanted, even if it made me uncomfortable, even if it caused me pain; anything to please them, but nothing seemed to be enough.

My friend once told me that maybe it was because I was meant to be with someone else; someone who was waiting for me: that destiny had something in store for me that I could not even imagine. And although I liked the romantic idea of that, I tried to be realistic. That was the best way to not get hurt again.

I knew I couldn’t be that unattractive. A lot of guys hit on me, and I was used to that: especially the older guys with silver hair - they tried to pick me up. This had started well before I could admit to myself that I did not like girls in the way my father desperately wished I would. With every girl’s crush that I rejected, he grew further and further away from me. Finally, I just had to admit to myself that I was gay. This was when I was 16 years old, and despite my efforts to hide it, despite my parents' efforts to Bible-thump it out of me, it wouldn’t go away. It was a part of me, and although I tried to hate it for so many years, eventually I had to admit to myself, I liked it, I embraced it. It was who I was.

I stepped inside the bathroom’s doorway and turned on the light. My eyes were flooded with unnatural yellow light that was all the more painful after being in the softly lit living room. Regaining my composure, I looked around. Along the right wall was the linen closet that Buck had told me about. Past that, there was a checkered marble countertop with a single sink. To my left, just past the swing of the door, was the shower, and past that was the toilet. It was a simple bathroom, definitely not meant to be the master bath, but still very nice for a guest restroom. I opened the glass shower door and turned the hot water on as high as it would go. I needed to wash the chill of this night away. Going back to the linen closet, I pulled out a thick olive green towel. Although it smelled clean, I could see pieces of dog hair still in it. This was the first proof of a pet that I had seen all night.