Porn Again Christian Page 2

  “My nightstand,” I whispered to Ravi, who hurried to it from his side of my bed. From the drawer, he pulled out a condom and small bottle of lube, both of which he tossed at me. By now Mr. Garcia, whose eyes had been closed, was staring fully between the two us, panicked by seeing the lube and rubber.

  “You said this was only gonna be oral,” he whispered.

  “Uh-uh.” I shook my head. “You said it was only going to be oral.”

  I opened and rolled the condom onto Mr. Garcia’s rigid nine-inch pole, then supplied its fat surface with a generous amount of lube before climbing onto my bed again, standing up. Crouching over his waist, I started to lower myself onto his huge, uncut cock—as Garcia started to squirm again under his constraints—and at first almost didn’t go through with it; his was, after all, the biggest dick I’d ever taken. But changing myself to a kneeling position, I handed Ravi the lube—after applying some to my tight, puckering hole—then slowly sat down on Mr. Garcia’s prick, that fat dong of his bringing instant tears to my eyes as I felt the fat mushroom head enter and fill my impossibly-tight ass.

  “Holy fuck,” I whispered as I felt him enter me. The pain was searing, he was so rock-hard, but I continued to push my way down.

  “Careful, Josh,” Ravi hissed in my left ear.

  Eyes squinted shut in pain, I cracked them open long enough to glance down at Mr. Garcia, whom I was facing. He was watching his dick enter my ass…and I saw his tasty pink tongue slither out to lick along his lower lip as he stared. Motherfucker was enjoying this—my pain, anyway—and when his eyes flicked up to mine, I knew it had to feel good, my asshole gripping his prick like a vice.

  I gasped, exhaling through my mouth, and lowered myself still more onto him…then again, still more, until finally he was buried all up inside my stretched, violated hole. I sat there, taking a deep breath and wiping the tears from my eyes as the pain subsided—then began rocking back and forth, straight-man’s cock buried up me to the balls, until Mr. Garcia’s wrists were pulling at his socks again, trying to get free as he stared up at me.

  I answered only with a satisfied smile—then pulled a bit off his dick and forced myself down again, making him fuck me. I did the same thing again—pulling farther off his cock before slamming down again—then again and again, until soon I was bouncing off his lap, up and down, riding that fat Latin prick of his with ever-increasing speed that now felt so good up my ass, I never wanted him to stop fucking me—my head and body arching back as I grabbed Garcia’s hairy ankles for leverage, and began slamming harder and harder onto his thick pole, my ass determined to drain his balls of all their cream.

  Then I felt Ravi on the bed, kneeling in front of me, and looked up in time to see him trying to force his ten-inch pole into Mr. Garcia’s mouth.

  “Come on—suck it!” Ravi yelled, more aggressive than I’d ever seen him. As I continued to bounce up and down on Garcia’s cock—bringing him closer and closer to coming—I watched, in fascination, as Ravi grabbed Mr. Garcia by the hair and twisted his head around, Ravi’s dick smearing trails of clear pre-cum all over the teacher’s tightly-closed mouth.

  “Take it!” he yelled. “Suck my dick, man!”

  Then I couldn’t see anything, as Ravi slung one long, thin leg over—and was now straddling the Latin hunk’s face, his back to me. For the first time I noticed Ravi had one hot ass, even as I continued bouncing up and down on Mr. Garcia’s fat cock—covered in sweat, my own hard prick slapping up and off my belly with each plunge.

  “Ahh, that’s it, man…” I heard Ravi moan, and knew he’d gotten Garcia to blow him at last. “Yeah, bro—suck that dick, teach…” Then Ravi was thrusting his hips into Mr. Garcia’s face, fucking his mouth, and Garcia’s gagging noises had me so turned on, I found myself leaning over—still riding the teacher’s cock like a bull (which is how he felt, buried inside me)—and spreading Ravi’s dark, skinny butt cheeks open with my hands, my tongue plunging into his tiny, dark asshole.

  “Fuck!” Ravi yelled, not expecting the sudden wet, hot tongue up his ass…and as I lapped inside him, he rammed Mr. Garcia’s face that much harder.

  We were all non-stop now, cocks throbbing—and then I saw Garcia’s left hand break free from its sock, before he reached down to shove Ravi off his face. Ravi’s cock popped from his throat, and I thought we were in trouble for sure…until the teacher/former porn star shouted out the real reason he’d needed his mouth free.

  “I’m gonna come!” he shouted. “Ohhhh, fuuuuuck—I’m gonna come!”

  I sat straight up, clenching my ass cheeks until it hurt—ricocheting harder up and down on his lap…until I felt Mr. Garcia’s cock pulse inside my ass and he was shooting, nutting one hell of a huge load up the condom stuffed into my ass. Garcia moaned out loud—almost the growl of a grizzly bear, actually—and then it felt like a second wave of cum began spewing up my ass from his oversized cock. Wave after wave pulsed through my clenched butt cheeks…and then I was pulling on my own pud and saw Ravi climb back onto the bed—over Garcia’s face—and I was shooting, my thick white jizz blasting in multiple trails of liquid snow all over Mr. Garcia’s chest and belly—strings of thick white splashing onto his cheek, into his hair. Ravi nutted at the same time, his slim hands pulling hard on his long, dark dick as he knelt to the left of Mr. Garcia’s head—and then his cream, white as milk, began spewing from his bulbous cock head and into the Latin hunk’s face—globs and globs of his Pakistani spooge flying all over Garcia’s lips, nose, cheeks, and closed eyes…even his dark, wavy hair. Between the two of us, we coated Mr. Garcia from hair to waist in jizz, his gold-brown body now streaked with liquid man-snow…and by the time I crawled off the former porn model’s spent and softening cock, ass stretched and sore, I realized just how long it had been since I’d had sex on such a volcanic level as this.

  We untied a dazed, exhausted, and sweat—and cum—soaked Mr. Garcia from the bed, leading him to the bathroom where he could clean up. While he showered, Ravi and I shut off and broke down all the video equipment, hiding it away so there’d be no discussion of destroying the footage. Ravi was a film major—he could edit the footage privately, at school, and turn it into a film we’d be able to use as jack-off material for a long, long time.

  * * * *

  “Where are my briefs?” Mr. Garcia asked, about twenty minutes later, as he stood on the staircase wearing only his white shirt and socks—jeans and boots in one hand. Ravi and I were back to sitting in the living room, in our underwear, me on the couch and Ravi back in his favorite chair.

  “I put them away,” I told Garcia. “Sorry, but they smelled too much like you, so I kept them as a souvenir.”

  He started to protest, but didn’t bother. Instead, he pulled his jeans on and zipped them up, sans underwear, then sat on the stairs to pull his little black leather gaucho boots back on.

  “I better never hear from either of you motherfuckers again,” he muttered aloud.

  “You won’t,” Ravi replied.

  “But you’re always welcomed to come back, if you like.”

  Mr. Garcia snorted, standing up again on the staircase, fully dressed now. “I will not be back,” he growled…then snatched his car keys from a front jeans pocket, and crossed behind us to let himself out the apartment door, slamming it behind him.

  I turned to Ravi. “Christ, that was hot.”

  Ravi nodded, grinning. “I so wanted to fuck the guy. You think he’ll be back?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so.”

  We sat for a second in silence.

  “By the way,” Ravi finally said. “That was pretty hot, too—your tongue up my ass.”

  I blushed. “Yeah. I sorta got caught up in the moment.”

  “No worries, man—it’s cool. I loved it.” He thought a moment, grinning at me. “You wanna do it again?” he asked.

  I smiled. “Sure. You still up for fucking some ass?”

  Ravi nodded. “Getting hard again just thinking about it,”
he replied.

  We raced each other upstairs.

  The End

  ABOUT KRIS KLEIN

  KRIS KLEIN has been writing tales of male-male love and lust since he first published in Torso magazine in 1996. More than a dozen years and fifty stories later, you can still find his work in numerous magazines and anthologies, as well as online. Known for stories ranging from the horniest of hardcore to the most reverently romantic, Klein’s work reflects both his own high-octane sexual appetite…as well as his belief that gay men can still form loving, committed relationships when all is said and done. You can read more about Kris, his work and career, at www.krisklein.blogspot.com.

  If you enjoyed PORN AGAIN CHRISTIAN, you might also enjoy:

  EAST MEETS WES

  By Kris Klein

  Still nursing a broken heart over the ending of his relationship with Matt, Wes decides its best to pack up and leave Phoenix for good. He takes a job in Seattle, and in preparing to move decides to sell off most of his and Matt’s household possessions…including some valuable pieces of artwork that had been Matt’s favorites. Enter Robert, a blue collar, short and very well-built straight Asian welder-a budding tattoo artist with an eye for fine art who shows up at Wes’ door with the desire to buy but no green to back it up. But Wes, a skillful negotiator, finds other things Robert has that he wants…and indeed, before the evening is over, the divorced, rugged straight man finds the valuable abstract paintings he wants so badly may cost him a lot more then he’s willing to pay…or is he?

  Warnings: This title contains graphic language, m/m sex, coercion, anal sex.

  Excerpt From EAST MEETS WES:

  He was sitting to my left, on the couch, and I caught sight again of the various artwork and designs tattooed up and down his right arm. Casually, I gestured at it. “Looks like you’ve collected some cool artwork already,” I told him.

  “Oh, you like it?” Robert rolled up the right sleeve of his gray tee, all the way up to his shoulder, to reveal outlines of even more work, yet to be inked in. Even better, he was now showing off one hell of a muscular bicep. “It’s all my own work,” he said, beaming.

  “Really? You drew everything?” I leaned in closer to look.

  “Yeah,” Robert answered, proud to admit it. “Well, they’re my designs; I gave them to the guy, and he’s slowly getting them all tattooed onto my arm in a sleeve. Anyway, yeah-they’re my designs.”

  I really was impressed-the guy would have made one hell of a graphic novel artist, and I told him so.

  “You think so? I just do it for me.” He rolled the sleeve of his t-shirt down again, as I sat back on the couch. Even his fingers were long, clean and well-maintained. Sexy. “So okay Wes, let’s get this out of the way-how much did these cost you?” he asked, gesturing with a thumb at the paintings on the wall behind us.

  “Fifteen-hundred dollars.”

  Robert’s mouth fell open. “You’re shittin’ me.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Believe it or not, that’s with the $600 discount.”

  Robert fell back onto the couch hard. “Damn.”

  “I probably wouldn’t ask that much for them, though,” I added. “Besides, I’m always willing to negotiate.”

  Robert laughed, looking over at me. “Man, I couldn’t afford anywhere near that. Not with all the negotiating in the world. And I don’t dare ask ya how much for the big one, so I guess that’s that…”

  He started to rise but I caught hold of his arm, pulling him back down to the couch. “Hey man-ya never know. For instance-let’s say I started off by saying I thought twelve hundred was a fair price for the big one. Then your counter-offer would be…?”

  Robert laughed. “Dude, like I said-that’s still not even in my ballpark, money-wise.”

  I shrugged, so turned on by him now I could almost taste his skin. He smelled of Tag body spray and a scent unique to him-clean, yet musky and masculine-and it was driving me crazy. “There are other methods of bartering besides money,” I said.

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