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.

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