Back Alley Sex: When Lust Takes Over in Vegas
A steamy encounter leads to an unforgettable experience in a back alley.
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He approached as I left BB, a popular local hangout in downtown Las Vegas. He was in line waiting to get in with the other hopefuls. I noticed him as I headed in hours ago.
He shot me a quick eye-rape as I entered the club. He was easy on the eyes in a non-pretty boy kind of way.
“Where ya headed?” he said as he ran over, blocking the cab door with his muscular arms.
“What’s it to you?” I said as I turned, checking out his tall frame that towered over me, 6’6” of solid man.
“It’s early. How about we go in and have some fun? Come on, it’s my last night here and I want to at least dance with the hottest guy in Vegas.”
He shot me a smile with the whitest teeth I’d ever seen. His eyes were a piercing chestnut brown with a determined chin. His straightforwardness turned me on; I liked that in a guy.
“How old?” I asked.
“Does age matter to you?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if it didn’t, now would I?” I moved his arm from the cab door.
A worried look flashed across his face. It was the look of a man who knew the wrong answer that could ruin any chances of scoring.
“Twenty-six,” he said hurriedly, flashing a weak smile. His eyes told the story of a liar.
“Too young, baby. I like my men with hair on their chest.”
As the driver prepared to leave, there was a knock on the window. I rolled down the window, and he rested his arm on the door, leaning into the frame.
“I lied, ok. I’m 37. Here’s my driver’s license as proof.” He handed me his worn leather wallet.
“Jon Verne, 6549 Country Lake Road, Atlanta, GA, 6’6”, brown eyes, 240 pounds, Organ donor — good for you.” He opened my door. “Come on, let’s have some fun,” he nodded to the entrance.
It was only two in the morning; the night was still young, and I didn’t have my man meal for the night, so I was down to take a chance. As we walked through the entrance, I gave Billy, the doorman, a wink and tipped him, just as I had earlier. “Coming back for seconds, Ian?” he said, nodding to Jon.
“The poor man’s come a long way. It’d be impolite not to show him a good time,” I said as I took Jon’s hand, leading him through the entrance into the groans of the people standing in line.
We were greeted with complimentary Apple Martinis and asked if we wanted manicures. This is BB’s signature service. They know how to treat their guests.
“It’s all part of the experience,” I tugged his arm leading him to the table. I plopped him down in the service chair. “Now sit, and enjoy your mani.”
Jon was hard-headed. He attempted to leave the manicurist, but she shot back a look that could strike fear in any man or woman.
“You better sit your sexy ass down now,” she said with a southern drawl as she placed his hand in the water.
The big draw of BB to locals and tourists is its uniqueness. It doesn’t have all the trappings of glamor and lights that Vegas is known for, but it does have the sinful factor that everyone loves. They decked BB out as an old-fashioned beauty salon, complete with vintage hair drying stations, barber chairs, and a bar covered in shag carpeting.
The bar is completely stocked, and the bartenders can whip up anything you could ever imagine. I once ordered a Long Slow Comfortable Screw Up Against a Cold Hard Wall with a Kiss at the recommendation of Bobby, the bartender.
I watched Jon over at the manicure station. He looked uncomfortable; I could tell he was still new in the gayberhood. Like many that come to Vegas, he was here on business and cashed in on some repressed desires, thinking no one would know back home. It’s an easy, quick release. It’s the same tale I hear every single night.
Waving down the barkeep for a refill on my Appletini, I felt a package, a stranger’s package, press against my backside.
“Don’t turn around,” the deep voice commanded. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. I took a sip of my drink and rocked along with him as he ground up against me, swaying my hips to the music.
“You dance with strangers so freely?” he said as he wrapped his arms around my waist, still pulling me into him. My back arched so that my ass met his center.
“Only for you, Jason,” I turned at met his gaze. “Long time no see. Stranger.”
“Hmmm, it’s been a minute. Our lips locked.
“A few weeks,” I said, gazing up into his eyes.
I ordered another round of drinks.
“I’m buying,” Jason passed the bartender his credit card to open a tab. Jason and I met about two years ago when he first moved to Las Vegas.
Six months ago, he broke up with his girlfriend of four years. Their relationship was pretty open. He fucked guys, and she fucked girls. It was a relationship of convenience to keep up appearances.
Both were lawyers for high-powered firms and didn’t want anyone finding out about their ultra-private lives. She basically dumped him as a younger, more successful ‘female’ lawyer.
“I saw you come in with that guy over there,” Jason said with an edge.
“Yeah, he begged me to come in with him. I think he just wanted to get in. Isn’t he cute in a newbie kind of way?”
Jason was the jealous type. We hooked up pretty regularly, so regularly I stopped returning his calls. It got too relationship-focused for me. I wasn’t ready for one, and Jason was still on the rebound.
One thing he didn’t like was me having sex with other guys. He thought I was his and only his. No matter how many times I tried to explain it, he couldn’t understand where I was coming from. That, I didn’t understand. Maybe he didn’t want to understand. So I just stopped returning his calls, thinking he’d get the idea.
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Jason grabbed his drink, downing it in one shot, slammed it on the counter, and signaled for another. He was a man’s man. He didn’t play games, and he played hard. You’d never know it by looking at him, but he’s 42 and built like a linebacker. I affectionately call him Daddy.
Seems young for your taste,” he said, scowling.
“Yeah, but it’s good to try different parts of the chicken,” I said, trying to turn his frown into a smile with my fingers. I was a little tipsy. Jason tried to keep a straight face but failed miserably.
“And what part of the chicken am I?” he asked as he downed his second drink.
“You’re the best part, the dark meat,” I said, slapping him on the ass.
He grabbed my arm, reeling me back into his embrace. My back against his front, his chin nested just under my neck. We swayed together.
“Ian, let’s get out of here,” his low, silky voice commanded. Jason knew how to get me going. He’d drop his voice and pull me into his bear hug embrace. I felt safe in his arms.
It was hard to say no to Jason when he did this. Being held like this in his arms was my Kryptonite. I felt protected, loved, and vulnerable all at once.
“You remember when we just stayed up all night, and I just held you?” he whispered into my ear.
“Ye — Yes,” I said as I closed my eyes to fight back the tears. That was a special night that Jason and I had. It was different. That scared me to death. I knew then that we weren’t just fuck buddies. He was becoming a permanent fixture in my life, and I couldn’t deal with the emotional roller-coaster of a relationship.
“I’ll call you,” I said, trying to free myself from his powerful grip on my waist. He wouldn’t let go. “Jason,” I said firmly. Reluctantly, he released me. I could feel his gaze as I left his reach. “I’ll call you,” I shouted as I waded through the crowded floor.
Jon and I grabbed a spot on the dance floor. The poor chap didn’t have the most incredible sense of rhythm, but he tried and made it work. Everyone can’t be a backup dancer for Beyoncé, but hell, dancing is dancing. It’s not rocket science. Move your body however you feel — that’s dancing.
After about three more beers for Jon and seven Appletinis for me, we placed our butts down on a very worn and comfy, vintage 70s, orange burlap sofa with another couple. This was the magical sofa; anything and everything happened on its cushions.
Jon didn’t waste any time trying to score a home run. His auburn hair stood out under the lights. There was an angelic glow about it.
I’ve popped a few cherries in my day, and everyone’s first time should be special. Be it in the back seat of a car, movie theatre, bathroom, or even an empty church confessional.
“A lot of firsts for you tonight, huh?” I said as I ran my fingers through his thick locks. His eyes closed as I stroked his hair. It was funny. He had the same expression my cocker would give when I’d scratch him behind his ears. But this was different; it was more sensual.
“Let me in, Jon,” I whispered as I placed my lips on his. I delved deeper, locking eyes. I put my hand on his inner thigh, moving my way up his muscled thighs. Slowly, I unbuttoned the last five buttons on his shirt, exposing his chest, which revealed just enough hair in the right spots.
I took my time to remove each arm from the sleeve, teasing his arms with the tips of my fingers. He leaned in for another kiss, but I held him back, letting him know I was running the show.
“When was your last time?” I ran my fingers across his pecs.
“Yesterday.”
“Lie,” I said as my eyes met his. He diverted his gaze as a child who was being scolded would.
“Last time?” I asked again as I kissed his neck. His head tilted back in pleasure.
“Two weeks ago.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“No.”
“Did she enjoy it?”
He hesitated. “Of course she did.”
“Lie,” I said, palming his face with my hand. I moved closer, straddling him. I could feel his package grow bigger against my ass. There was a bulge, a big one.
“She hated it. She left midway through, freaking out about how terrible I was and how I couldn’t get hard.” Sliding down to my knees, I kept my eyes fixed on Jon. I moved my hands to his crotch, massaging it over his deep blue slacks that gave to his bulge. Jon’s gaze broke when he realized a few patrons were watching us. Most were standing around with their glasses filled, making idle conversation; some had their eyes fixed on us or on the other couple making out on the sofa.
“It’s all a part of the experience, baby,” I said, trying to calm his nerves. “We can stop anytime you like.” I paused. “Let’s put on a show for the people.”
Jon was still a little uneasy.
I crawled back onto the sofa while removing my top to make him feel more comfortable, sliding my right leg between his legs. He reached over and grabbed my right pec. He leaned in, introducing his wet tongue to my nipple. My body tensed as he ran his tongue around my nipple.
“Damn, boy,” I said as he took my nipple into his mouth. I peered over at the other couple making out on the sofa. An attractive 24ish-year-old female and her male partner, about the same age, were just getting started. He was on top of her, kissing her neck.
Her moans were low, almost a whisper. I reached over to touch the blonde guy’s shoulder. His gaze met mine as I pulled him closer. His lips were smeared with ruby lipstick. I pulled his head close. His lips trembled with anticipation.
My mouth landed on his bottom plump lip. As I sucked on his bottom lip, his hands made their way to my backside, giving my cheeks a tight squeeze. I licked his lips, tracing his top lip from corner to corner. I pulled back. His eyes were closed, mouth puckered. He was ready for me.
I could feel the blonde’s pulse rise. He wanted it. Jon wanted it. Hell, I wanted it too. We all moved in unison, embracing each other in a triple kiss and an excessive amount of manhandling.
I couldn’t tell whose hand was who; I didn’t care as long as they stayed on my body. Just as the fun was starting, it was over. The blonde was pulled away by his female companion. I guess no one told her that sharing was a rule now.
“You’re supposed to share your toys with others,” I quipped as I cut my eyes at the Debbie Downer. I looked at Jon; he was about to burst out of his pants. I ran my hands deep into his pants, grabbing a handful of cock. My eyes widened with surprise; Jon was packing. He smirked at my surprised expression.
“What, thought I was a lightweight?”
“Of course not. I didn’t expect it to be so thick,” I said, as my mouth watered.
I led Jon out to the back alley. The cool night air whipped at my face as I opened the back door. It was dark and secluded if you didn’t count the bums that hung around begging for spare change.
Jon’s hand tightly gripped mine as we waded through the trash that lined the dark alley. Jon tried to button his shirt as we walked to shield him from the cool air. I spotted a blind spot by the dumpster where we could have some semi-privacy.
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I pinned Jon’s shoulders to the wall as I looked him over. His tall, tight frame was inviting. There was a visible dick print showing. He was hanging to the right and very low. I reached down, grabbing his cock, while pressing my body into his. Jon had the height advantage; I was on tippy toes, reaching for his lips.
Seeing my challenge, Jon flipped the script and placed my back against the icy wall. He towered over me. I could feel his breath on my neck as he licked me as if I were a tasty scoop of butter pecan ice cream.
As he pressed into me, I wrapped my legs around his waist, my back remaining against the wall. I noticed a dark figure in the corner of my eye, just standing there, motionless.
“Looks like we have an audience of one,” I said as Jon clenched my ass tightly.
“Let the prick fucking watch,” he said as his tongue made its way down my throat.
Cars zipped down the nearby street, and I could hear the occasional police siren buzzing down the busy street. It was around 3:30 in the morning, and Vegas was just coming to life.
“Oh, Damn!” Jon said as he pulled me forward, almost violently, shoving his tongue deep inside my mouth again. His grip was firm, but I didn’t complain. The Guinness and Jon’s breath mixed with his spicy scent was intoxicating. He lowered me to the ground, kissing me deeply. He was aggressive with his handling. I loved it–I wanted more.
His tongue darted across my bottom lip before clinching down, biting my lip tenderly. I felt his tongue line the back of my neck, which led to sensual bites into my warm flesh, sending pleasure shocks up my thighs. Gripping the edges of my ivy-green top, he pulled it over my head, running his hands up and down my quivering body.
He moved down to unbutton my pants, pulling at my boxer briefs, almost ripping them in half. “What are you waiting for?” I said as I pressed my ass into his package. His grip tightened around my waist, turning me to face him. He kneeled, taking my meat into his mouth.
My head rolled back, bracing against the cold brick graffiti-filled wall. This straight man had caused my eyes to flutter, my knees to weaken, and I had to hold on to his broad shoulders for fear of collapsing to the ground in absolute pleasure.
I felt a warm sensation build in the center of my lower back; it spread down to my hips, inward to my thighs, and shot back up to my cock. I continued thrusting my hips, driving my cock deeper down his throat. Jon smacked my ass as he inhaled my cock.
His hands linked with mine as he moved up and down the shaft of my dick. I tapped Jon on his head, trying to warm him that I was close. He ignored my taps. I used my fist, tapping his shoulder, but he kept going.
“I’m cum —,” I screamed as he slipped a finger in my ass.
I fisted patches of his dark locks as a wave of pleasure erupted from my cock into Jon’s mouth. My knees buckled, and he caught me from falling. He rose to his feet and shared what I’d just shared with him. “You taste delicious,” he said as he sucked on my bottom lip.
“That was a surprise,” I said, trying to gather my words, not expecting Jon to do what he did.
He grunted and turned me, facing the wall, bending me over with my chest against the wall. He spat into his hand, coating his dick and supplying my ass with a generous amount of his saliva.
Pulling my hair, he thrust his dick deep into my hole, slamming his hips into me without mercy. His thick cock stretched my hole as he rammed me from behind; I felt him reach deeper into my hole with each thrust. I wasn’t entirely open for him, but he made a way. The slight pain turned into pleasure as my hole finally relented to his thick meat.
He was going to blow too early; I could feel it. I encouraged him to slow down, moving my hand to his stomach to slow his motion. He answered by pining my hand behind my back, fucking me harder until I submitted. Our moans and grunts became louder each second. I checked to see if the stranger was still enjoying the show; he was.
“Where do you want it?” Jon said as he stabbed my insides with his thick 7-inch cock. My cock and chest rubbed raw against the unforgiving concrete.
“Easy,” I screamed as I felt the concrete bite through my flesh.
“You fucking bitch, you wanted it, so I’m giving it to you,” he said as he wrapped his arm around my waist, hoisting my body against the wall. I felt unbalanced, and fear crept in. His thrusts became quicker and deeper.
“No, wait… wait,” I screamed as I reached back to push him away.
He was too strong. His arm hooked around my neck, and my feet fell to the ground. “How does it feel?” he said as he continued to bury his cock deep into my hole. There was a loud clunk.
My head bounced off the pavement. As I reached back to hold my head, I heard someone approach. I felt Jon beneath me, but he wasn’t moving. Bright bursts of tiny lights filled my eyes as I tried to re-adjust my vision. Checking my hand, I saw red. I tried to wrap my mind around what had just happened, and everything went dark.
