S03E01: The Glass House
Synopsis: Zay is a successful bisexual
millennial with a type-A personality who has recently begun feeling the pressures
of aging, finding his ONE, and chasing the standards of happily ever after.
While he has no current dating prospects, he ventures off-course and indulges
in a few thrills with his hotter-than-hell real estate agent. This Erotic Short
is not in the 2014 Compilation, and a full version of this story is not yet
available for public consumption.
This story is a copyright by Mr. Maleficent of the Maleficent Journal and an act of
complete fiction. Please always remember to wrap it up.
Shit! I’m going to be
late for my lunch date… I’d probably better call him and let him know that I’m
a little backed up. I don’t want to cancel on the damn guy, but it’s going to
be so hard to get out of the office today. The servers went down in the
building some time overnight and IT has been working on it all morning. And my
job as the Information Architect for the southern branch of one of the biggest
insurance companies in the country means my phone has been ringing non-stop all
morning. Why these people can’t use their phones to search for the answers on Google?- I don’t know. Why this company doesn’t have a
backup server, I know even less. Hmmm… Maybe I’m not that great of an
Information Architect, after all.
“Hey,” I said,
picking up my briefcase and slamming it onto my desk.
The loud thump
startled my co-worker, Shanice. Shanice is a Risk Manager, overseeing company expenditures, which helps to keep the company
cost-effective. Because we work so well together, we share the last
executive-style office on this floor.
“What?” Shanice
asked, her head jumping up from her desk. “You scared the crap out of me.”
I laughed. “I’m
sorry. And I’m sorry for this too; I need you to cover for me while I’m at
lunch.”
“No, no, no, no
sir….”
“Please,” I
begged. “I have to go, Shanice.”
“The way your
phone has been ringing off the hook, you’re better off staying right here. I
have some crackers for you to snack on while you work through your lunch hour.”
“I can’t, Shanice.
This appointment is important. This one may be it;
this may be my dream house. And besides, you’ve been listening to my calls all
morning. I’ve said the same two phrases over and over. I doubt it’s going to be
any harder than that.”
“I don’t know,
Zay… They keep calling you about the policy changes, and I don’t know anything
about that.”
“You didn’t read
the blurb I emailed about all the policy changes last month?” I asked.
“No one did,” she
shot back, scoffing. “That’s exactly why they keep calling you. And now, you
see why I don’t want to be in your predicament.”
“Ughhhh…” I sighed.
She did too,
feeling a little guilty. “You really think this is the house?”
“It’s what Malik
told me. He even sent a video.”
I pulled out my
phone and pulled up the video he’d sent a few hours before. Then, I handed my
phone over to her.
“Here, look for
yourself,” I said.
“Oooh, oooh, oooh-
I’m looking.”
The ‘oooh-ooohs’ Shanice was howling had very little to do with the
house. She was remarking toward my real estate agent, Malik Rockmore. Malik had
that effect on all women. I’d never considered myself to be a bad-looking dude,
but standing next to him, I tended to feel inferior. He had that effect on men.
Standing at 6’5,
with a chiseled rock-hard body, he was a modern-day interpretation of
Michaelangelo’s David. It was as if he sculpted himself that way. He was carmelized in skin tone, a bit
broader in the shoulders and bigger in the chest, but he was every bit as
statuesque. His face was a little hard, just as muscular as the rest of his
body. He raised the bar and beauty standards for men in general. It made him
perfect for a sales career. Anyone could get lost in his eyes. The man could
sell Goodwill clothing to a boutique, and the boutique would think they came
out on the better side of the deal.
In the video,
Malik was holding his camera phone in front of his face, and you could see the
elegant staircase in the view behind him. Then, he began to spin in a circle,
showing the rest of the entryway to the home.
“It’s 4 bedrooms,
3 baths, 2 staircases, a side exit, and one of those master showers you said
you wanted during our last walkthrough. I scored a private viewing for you.
Show up anytime from 1:45 to 3 PM., Zay. And before you think of passing up on
this opportunity, I want to let you know that you have not seen a deal this
good since that house in SouthPark that you let slip through your fingers. You
remember how pissed you were about that? Don’t let it happen again. Come get
this house, bwoi!”
The breathtaking
video ended. And no, I don’t just mean that the house views were breathtaking.
“Whew…” Shanice
said. “If I wasn’t married…. If I wasn’t married… Shit, why did I get married?”
I chuckled.
“Because you love your husband, Damien. He’s the father of your children, and
you guys have been madly in love for 7 years.”
“Damn it, I can’t
wait to become a widow.”
“Oh, stop it,” I
grabbed the phone out of her hand.
“Alright, I will
cover for you. But what do you need with all that house anyway? Isn’t it just
you and your St. Bernard? You don’t need that house unless you’re putting a
family together.”
“I have a family.
My son and my daughter are coming back down here this Summer, and I’d love it
if they didn’t have to share the guestroom of my apartment. I want them to have
their own bedroom all year long, even when they’re back home. And I want them to
have a house they can be proud of. Maybe when they become teens, they’ll want
to stay down here. It’s warmer; it’s friendlier. It’s cheaper. They can get to
know my roots just as well as they know their mother’s.”
“Awww, I didn’t even know you had kids. You are really
tugging at the heartstrings so you can go see this little house, huh?” she
asked.
“I looked at the
house on Zillow after he sent me this video. Shanice, this is the one.”
“Alright, alright.
I’ll cover for you under one condition.”
“Anything,” I
agreed.
“I want to see
some photos of those beautiful babies by the end of the week.”
I smiled. “You got
it.”
“Alright, now go.
Run along, so you can hurry back.”
“Awesome!” I lept up from my seat. Wrestling for my briefcase, I darted
quickly out of the office. I was happy that I was going to make my appointment,
but a little stressed over how the hell I was going to be able to find two kids
to pose for pictures and pretend to be my children…
-&-
The drive out to
this wonderful neighborhood where my dream house was located was only about 15
miles from the office. And in 5 O’clock traffic, it would probably be about 25
minutes. In that drive, I thought. What if this house was the real deal? What if
this house was truly the one that I could see myself living in full-time? What
if this was the house that I would grow old in? What if this was the house that
my future son or daughter would be raised in? Hold on, I'm getting too far
ahead of myself. I don't even have a wife yet. Hell, I don't even know if I
want a wife. I've been bisexual my entire life, for as long as I can remember.
When I envision myself with a family, I don't exactly know what my spouse looks
like.
Even as I think
about it right now, I have no idea where to start. My imagined spouse is
faceless, formless, and boundless. I have no idea who or what I want from day
to day. I love women, but I love men too. Committing to one over the other is
hard when I don’t even have a valid prospect in front of me. I’ve always been
more of a personality guy anyway. I’m more attracted to the vibe. If we can get
along, we can get on. I like to think that I’m easygoing that way, although
some people might see me differently
The neighborhood
for this home was fairly new, part of a development
they had been working on in this area for the last five years. As you turn to
officially drive into the neighborhood, there’s a brick barrier fence that has
the neighborhood’s name on it. Silver Echoes. Odd name for a
development, but with the name excused, the neighborhood had something calming
about it. It truly gave that ‘white picket fence, 2.5 children, with a dog and
a cat’ American Dream that I’d been searching for. I wasn’t even at the house
yet, but I knew that I was going to love it already.
Most of the homes were
on the right side of Silver Echoes Lane, while the left side had a small golf
park with more homes behind it. I wasn’t one for golf, but in a neighborhood so
tame, maybe I’d take it up and see what all the fuss is about.
Ting…
The Bluetooth to
my car went off; I’d just received a new text message. It was from Malik.
“ETA?” he requested. It would take more time to pull my phone out and text him.
I was literally around the corner; he’d see me pulling up in less than 30
seconds.
The houses on this
block were gorgeous and homely without being flashy. They weren’t urban. They
weren’t modern. These houses were easily straight out of the Leave It to Beaver
television series. They were classic, reminiscent of a simpler time. No, the 1950s
weren’t a great time period for black people; I’m not
confused about that. I’m just referring to the aesthetic. Again, the American
dream…
But this house?...
As I’m looking at it for the first time, I realize that the pictures don’t do
it justice. Its foundation was classic, its front patio was cozy, and its
three-car garage was chic. I was so stunned at its appearance that I almost
forgot to put the car in park after I pulled into the
driveway.
I stepped out of
my vehicle to get a better view, and the sight was even more breathtaking. And
no, I’m not just looking at the house anymore but my gorgeous real estate agent
as well. He opened the screen door and stepped out of the house to meet me.
“You made it!” he
belted, a deep East Coast accent shooting from his lips.
“I got a little
hung up at work, but I made it.”
“Good, yo.”
Malik began
walking toward me. As he walked, the sun beamed down into his eyes, making him
squint as he approached. He was in his work attire: a sleek gray suit with
black patterned threading, a crisp white button-up, and a dark green belt that
had a sterling silver belt buckle. The boy could dress. He always looked like
the money he made. Malik was always well-groomed and well-manicured. You
couldn’t catch him slipping, not at work anyway. We’ve probably had 11
different appointments this year, and I haven’t seen him wear the same thing
twice.
Malik’s clothes
weren’t the only stellar thing about him. The way the sun beamed down on him
made that fat rock in his ear sparkle and the diamonds in his watch gleam. And
let's be clear, even without the flashiness, the jewelry-inducing halo, or the
high fashion catalog, the man would still be fine. I didn’t compare him to
Michaelangelo’s David for no reason. He had short dark curls that tapered down
into a fade and Disney villain eyebrows that peaked into his forehead much
higher than most people.
As far as Malik’s
body goes, the man was chiseled down. His chest and biceps were ready to bust
out of that button-down, and his thighs were flexing the fuck out of his
slacks. And with the angle of the sun forcing a shadow, it looked like my agent
was sporting quite the bulge.
“Well, as I said,”
he started. “We have the place until three. I took the time to get everything
set up inside. There’s some champagne and a couple of mini-sandwiches
in the kitchen, so you can eat something before you head back to work.”
“That’s
considerate.”
“Ay, I’m taking
care of my favorite client, here.”
“Sure, you are.”
He chuckled before
gesturing toward the porch behind him. “You see the patio layout?”
“Yeah, I was just
looking at that. I like that hanging bench.”
“I knew you would.
When I tell you that this house was meant just for you, I mean it. You’re going
to want to see the back balcony before you leave.”
“If you say so,” I
surrendered.
“I do… Let’s go
inside.’
-&-
Malik had his
goodies spread across the kitchen island. There were about four of those little
bottles of water, 4 mini sub sandwiches, an apple, two flute glasses, and that
promised bottle of Korbel champagne. He opened the bottle and began to pour one
of the glasses. Then, he handed that glass to me, before pouring the second
glass for himself.
I took a healthy
sip, letting the drink fizz down my throat.
“Mmmm… It’s good,” I remarked.
“Yeah, it came with
a recommendation from one of the other agents at the office. She said she
always gifts a bottle to her favorite clients when they close.”
“Aw. Well, I hope
it wasn’t expensive.”
“No. I got this
bottle as a gift for Christmas last year. As I was leaving the house, I thought
that I might bring it for you. If you like it, you could take it home.”
“Oh, I can’t
accept this from you.”
“Nah, go ahead and
take it,” Malik insisted. “Honestly, it’s been in my place collecting dust
since the holiday season. I don’t have any friends that drink champagne, and
I’m more of a scotch guy, myself. And now that it’s opened, I can’t gift it to
anyone else.”
“Awww, Thanks, Malik.”
“No problem, Zay.
Malik was
sparkling again, but we were inside now, so it couldn’t be blamed on the sun.
His eyes seemed to twinkle when he winked in my direction. I took another sip
from my glass, and he joined me by taking a sip from his own.
After I finished
my second sip, I placed the glass back down on the island countertop.
“So give me the rundown, Malik. Could you ever envision
yourself living in this house?” I asked.
“Yeah, but not
anytime soon. I picture this as more the house I’d retire to. As for now, my
current setup suits me well,” he explained. “I live in a loft right in the
middle of the city, 3 miles away from work and 2 miles away from the Gym, with
a shopping mall and any other store I could possibly need within a 4-mile
radius. If I lived in this house or in this neighborhood, I’d have to get into
traffic every time I wanted to do something fun.”
“Sure, talk
yourself out of a sale, why don’t you?” I joked.
“I don’t think you
have that problem though. You’re looking to get away from the city, but I love
it. Sure, the rent is steep, but I’m only paying a third since I’m splitting it
with my roommates.”
“Oh, you have
roommates?”
“I… I do,” he halted in speech, reacting as if he’d said
something wrong. “I’m sorry for that; I know you said you don’t want to talk
about our personal lives and you don’t want to know
much else about me-”
“No, that’s ok. I
only said that before because it helps me keep myself guarded. It helps me keep
the fantasy separated from reality,” I said, taking
another sip from my glass.
“I understand.”
Gulp.
Hmmm… I finished
that glass quicker than I thought I would. That was really
good….
“More?” Malik
offered.
“Ummm,” I hummed, setting the glass back down on the
countertop. I walked over to him, closing the gap between us. “I probably
better not get too tipsy. We only have until 3, right?”
A knowing smirk
wiped across his lips as I got closer and closer to him.
“That’s right,” he
confirmed.
“We probably
better start with the tour then.”
That smirk turned
into a full smile as he anticipated what was to come next. That bulge in his
pants anticipated it just as well.
I kneeled down, placing his crotch right at eye level. Deep
inside of me, there was a hunger for it, a burning ache that only his genitalia
could soothe. I unzipped.
Vrrrrrrp…
I guess this is
probably the best time to mention that I didn’t meet Malik through normal
circumstances. I didn’t see an ad for the firm that he works for on a bus
bench. I didn’t see his glowing skin in a Facebook advertisement. And no, I
didn’t call his number from the Yellow Pages.
I met Malik three months
ago on an exclusive underground hook-up site, called Top’d.
It’s a discreet app, considered to be the upper echelon of gay meets. It
promises Happy Ever Afters, or at the very least,
discreet hookups. You have to be referred to join, and
when you get accepted, you take a long compatibility test. This test is powered
by AI and is supposed to help you navigate your compatibility with the app’s
other users by highlighting certain traits that may work for or against you
when you visit their profile. I was on it for about 2 1/2 months when Malik
finally came along and started his free trial period.
We didn’t match.
In fact, when I clicked on his profile, the Top’d app
flashed a signal telling me that this guy wasn’t a match. His traits that
triggered that signal were that he was a thrill-seeker, materialistic, shallow,
and non-committal. For that reason, I bypassed his profile anytime it was
online. I guess that was the app’s way of saving its users from bad experiences
that would inevitably lead to bad reviews and tank the app’s success.
Although I haven’t
had success with the app yet, I liked that red flag feature. It’s helped me
steer away from guys who don’t deserve the time of day, and it’s helped me keep
from lowering my standards. There’s something about data that proves you’re not
supposed to be together that’s actually far more
affirming than that nagging voice in my mind that would be doubting our
compatibility from the jump.
But anyway, a
couple of days after Malik joined, I received a message from him. He’d sent an
entire paragraph worth of laughing emojis. I was intrigued. I wondered what
exactly was he laughing about. Was I ugly? Had he seen
me somewhere? I was in the middle of typing my reply when his second message
came through.
“Yo, what red
flags come up for you when you go to my profile?” he typed.
I relayed the list
to him, and he posted another paragraph of laughing emojis. “This shit is
wild!”
It was then that I
realized he was laughing at my red flags. I’d never
wondered exactly what red flags showed up whenever someone visited my profile.
Sure, it was probably different for each new user, but I’d never even thought
to ask. And since he did, I wanted to know what the app told him about why we
weren’t compatible: Clingy, Type-A personality, Picky, and Virgo. That’s
right, my zodiac sign was considered a red flag for his account. I can only
assume that he typed, “No Virgos,” in his compatibility test because what the
fuck? Malik is a Sagitarrius, by the way. And while
everything I know about the zodiac tells me that Virgo and Sagiterrorists
are, indeed, not compatible, why the fuck did it make it seem like I was the
issue? Ugh…
So, while the app
was telling us not to reach out to each other, we did anyway. We ignored those
huge red flags and concentrated on the characteristics that could work in
harmony. The biggest thing we had in common was that we were the only black men
on the app within a 100-mile radius. The other things we had in common were our
ambitious natures. The app claimed that we could be a great force of motivation
for each other, even engaging in a little healthy competition every now and
then. And then, of course, on a very basic level, there was the most obvious
unifier. He was a Top… I was not.
And now, here I
was, on my knees, fighting with his zipper so I could stuff my mouth full of
his dick. Once he was unzipped, I could see that his underwear was a silky, chic fabric. They weren’t boxers or briefs, but
some kind of bikini underwear. It was sexy to me, but I couldn’t be bothered to
admire it for long. I yanked the band to the side so I could take
him into my mouth properly. Malik wasn’t huge, but he was adequate. He packed a
good 6 or 7 inches that were about 5 inches thick, perfectly fitting into my
wet and velvety orifice. And in no time, I was already feeling his thick member
juicing itself in my mouth. He was already so hard, so swollen, and so wet.
“Ssss…. Oooh, baby wait. Take my
pants off, so we don’t mess them up,” Malik said.
He was right. His
pants were fair in shade. Any wetness would appear
easily. And any sperm residue would dry up and be just as visible as it was on
Monica Lewinsky’s dress.
I followed Malik’s
instruction, unbuckling his belt to free him.
“Awwww, but
keep suckin’. That shit feels so good, bwoi!”
With that stamp of
approval, I kept right on inhaling him, engulfing his dick down to the base of
his zipper while I unfastened his slacks and slid them down his thick, muscled
calves. As I was stripping him from the waist down, he helped me out by unbuttoning
his shirt and setting it gently on the kitchen island so it wouldn’t develop
extra creases. He still had a shirt on underneath, a white wife-beater tank
top. He opted to leave it on for now.
“Awh, fuck! You hungry, ain’t you?”
Yes, I was. I was
starving for the nourishment that his dick could provide. As I sucked it, I
rubbed the silky fabric from his bikini, trailing the waistband with my
fingers. Once I made it around to his backside, I realized how fleshy it was.
Malik was completely assed-out. Ol’
boy wasn’t just wearing bikini underwear under his clothes. He was wearing a
damn thong, and for some reason, that shit gassed me
up even more.
Malik leaned back
against the kitchen island, watching me go to work on
stroking him with my mouth. He kicked off his loafers to make it easier for me
to undress him. Once they were gone, his tight slacks peeled right off his
legs, no longer confining his boundaries. With his newfound freedom from the
fear of messing up his expensive slacks, he became more proactive in his
actions. He fucked that 7-inch dick of his into my throat, forcing me to
salivate more than I was doing already.
“Yurrrr… Did you miss this dick, nigga? Did you think about
eating your daddy dick when I told you about this listing?” he said,
relentlessly adjusting my head to and fro his pelvic
bone.
“Mmmmhmmm,” I moaned, tears forming in my eyes from my gag
reflexes being tested.
“Mouf’ wet as fuck!”
My hands grabbed
and squeezed his fleshy backside, helping to thrust his weight toward me, so
his dick would fly faster and further down my throat. My God, I loved using my
lips to make love to his length. His smell and taste always seemed so amazing.
As carefully groomed and scented as the rest of his body was, none of it
compared to his lower region. His cologne left small faint traces on his thong,
and his musk was a little potent seeing as how it was the afternoon. And his
pre-ejaculate had a sweet-saltiness to it, an effect
of his diet, no doubt. Whatever he was doing, I wanted him to keep it up.
“Mmmm…”
Malik adjusted
himself, lifting from the floor to sit on the kitchen countertop. With his new
elevated position, I had to elevate myself to meet him. I raised from my knees
concurrently with him taking his seat on the counter. He kept me held in a mild
headlock, holding my face at his groin while he explored the rest of my body
with his hand. His strong hand found its way to my rear, sliding down the small
of my back and into my pants. He rubbed at the crack of my ass, flicking the
sensitive rosebud.
“Awww, did you clean them guts so I can fuck you? Huh?” he
asked. “Did you deep clean that fuckhole like I told
you to do last night?”
“Mmmmhmm,” I replied. It was all I could say with a mouthful
of dick while also being muffled by his strong arm.
“Good. I already
got the master bedroom all set up for you, baby.”
After shoving my
pants down just below my rear, Malik flicked my asshole with the tip of his
middle finger repeatedly. At one point, he withdrew his hand to spit into it.
He placed that spit at my crevice and then returned to flicking it.
“Pull them pants
off,” he demanded.
With his dick still
lodged, I smacked my lips to keep a suction going while I followed his request.
My pants and underwear dropped to the floor, my thirst to get naked propelling
me to move quickly. Malik also disrobed further, pulling his tank off and
setting it alongside his other shirt.
-&-
My elbows were planted
on the kitchen island, allowing him to look down at my quivering and wanting
hole.
"Shit, I've been
waiting to get back in this since that house we looked at in South End,"
Malik groaned, peeling my ass cheeks apart. He let a glob of drool drip from
his mouth right into the crack of my ass. Before it fell too far, he caught it
with his fingers and began to work that spit into my hole. "Sssss... So what was wrong with
that house?"
"Nothing, really.
I just thought you could do better," I flirted.
"Oh, I did better.
This joint right here is $25,000 less. The school district is better, the crime
rate is a little lower, and there is a country club just around the corner.
It's practically fucking Mayberry." When he said the last line, he jammed
his fingers roughly into my hole.
"Aw shit," I
groaned at his invasion, my knees bucking in place.
Malik followed the
fingering up with a firm smack on my ass. "Fuckin' sweet ass, bwoi! I can’t wait to make that pussy leak."
"Ooh, I want you
to."
"All in due time,
but you got to do something for me first."
"And what is
that?"
He paused for dramatic
effect. Then, Malik spit it out. "Get back on yo’
knees and eat this ass, bruh.."
Malik adjusted me, when he placed his hand on my forehead and
began to push me back down to my knees. Adjusting his own weight by leaning
back on the kitchen island, Malik started to pull his underwear off to allow me
to eat. But I stopped him.
"No," I said.
"Leave these on. They're sexy."
"Ah, you like
them?"
"I do. Do you wear
thongs often?"
"Only when my
pants are too thin. My boxers tend to bunch up. They make me look like I'm
wearing a diaper," he smirked.
"Oh, well I like
these. Here I was, thinking that you wore them just for me."
He smiled seductively.
"If that's an official request, I can make it happen for all future meet-ups."
"Well, it’s an
official request."
I cupped Malik's balls,
squeezing and massaging them. While keeping him suspended in anticipation, I
worked my thumb underneath the string of his thong. Pulling it to the side, my
face went in, and I kissed his hairy hole. I tongued him with as much passion
as he’d kissed me with just a minute earlier.
"Sss... ahhh, sss...
ahhh," he moaned, feeling my tongue lap into his
rectum. I smacked my thick lips against his fat muscle ass,
working my taste buds into his exit. In trying to pull his thong further out of
the way, I heard the fabric rip just a little. I certainly hope he had another
pair. And if he didn't, I'd buy it for him.
As I snacked on his
groceries, I became almost as audible as he normally is when he does his oral
work. I groaned, moaned, and smacked as I inhaled his butt for nourishment.
"Fuck, you eating them cheeks!" Malik was really getting into it
now, enjoying my rear door visit almost more than his blowjob. To give me more
access, Malik grabbed the rear side of his thong and pulled it up and out of
the way. "Yes!!! Eat my ass, nigga."
With his legs now
lifted in the air, Malik could thoroughly enjoy getting his asshole washed over
by me. And I thoroughly enjoyed bathing him. My hands pried his cheeks apart
and gave him the proper rimming that he'd been waiting for. My tongue danced, slithering
its way into his hole. He squirmed about on the kitchen counter, letting me
know that he was enjoying this and encouraging me to keep going.
"Aw, you missed
your daddy's asshole?" He asked.
"Yes, I did."
"Show him how much
you've missed him."
"Yes, daddy."
-&-
So, I’m guessing you’re
confused about how two men who know they’re incompatible started regularly
hooking up with each other, right? Well, when we struck up our conversation on
the Top’d app some months ago, we decided not to
attempt a relationship. He wasn’t looking for one in the first place, but we
both trusted the app's process. The bold red flags that appeared on our
profiles were enough to ward us off of ever trying to
date. He was a materialistic, non-committal playboy looking for discreet
hookups. And I was a clingy, picky Virgo who was looking for my happily ever
after. With the pressure of trying to date removed, our online conversations
flowed so naturally. He was witty and exciting but also had this way of
flirting that electrified me. We weren’t to be together, but I certainly
enjoyed flirting with the idea of it.
In one of our many
conversations, I let it be known that I was looking for a home. He informed me
that he was in real estate and worked for one of the top 5 realty firms in the
state. He claimed he could get me into homes that the general
public wouldn’t even know were for sale yet. A lot of the best homes go
quickly and quietly, especially in a big city like this. Malik assured me that
his firm had exclusive perks that other firms couldn’t compare to.
The first time we met
offline was at one of his open houses. The room was filled with other potential
homebuyers but we could hardly keep our eyes off each
other. My eyes were glued to him almost the entire time, watching his beauty as
he worked. Little did I know, he was also infatuated. I was standing and
viewing the back patio when I received a message from the Top’d
app. I looked at my phone and saw the new message from him.
“Mmmm…
Clingy looks good from the back,” the message read. Attached to the message was
a photo of my backside on the patio, a picture he’d just taken from inside the
home. I smirked to myself, turning to look back and seeing the grin on his
face. He tried to play it off while he was talking to a potential buyer, but
his eyes kept flicking in my direction.
I had his attention, so
it was time to make the most of it. I typed back, “Easy, ‘thrill-seeker.’ This
ride is probably too intense for you.”
In all
of our time talking online, we hadn’t bartered images. Our conversations
were mostly PG, occasionally venturing into more adult territory whenever we
flirted, but that didn’t happen too terribly often. Turning things up a notch, I decided to show
him a more explicit version of the photo he’d just taken. I sent him a saved
selfie of my ass in the mirror.
Malik got pretty busy at the open house as the entire city seemed to
flock in. He didn’t have the time to get back to his phone until after I’d
left. So, it was sometime in the late evening when I finally received a
response that read, “Let me hop on that roller coaster and I’ll let you cling
to me all night.” He followed the DM up with a selfie image of himself. He was
nude in a vaguely familiar bathroom, wearing an outfit that I could’ve sworn
I’d seen him in before. That’s when it hit me; he’d taken this nude in the
bathroom of that open house. That was the same bathroom I’d viewed, and the
same tie he was wearing when I saw him earlier. Knowing that fact made the
photo even hotter to me.
“Do you make a habit of
getting naked in other people’s houses?” I typed.
“I thought you wanted
to see mine after you showed me yours…”
“It is a nice piece.”
“So was yours… I wish
you hadn’t left so early. I would’ve loved to pull you into this bathroom with
me.”
My dick jumped in
reaction to the possibilities that he lay in front of me.
“Don’t tell me you make
a routine of sneaking off in and power driving into some poor boy in the middle
of your open house events,” I replied.
“You’d be the first…
would you like to be the first?” he asked.
Two and a half months
later, we had 10 hookups under our belt. Each of them during one of his
showcases. I’d never been much of a thrill seeker, but
engaging in this with him made me want to start. Not only was sex with him
great but doing it in someone else’s home while they were away, was the cherry
on top. I could get addicted to this feeling…
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Sexual Deviance The Compilation
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not yet available for public consumption. But while this story is not currently
available, my most recent erotic collection is. Check out ThugHolidays:
A Collection of Holiday-Themed Thug Erotica, but only after you've checked out
all 7 previous Volumes of ThugHarmony.
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