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Conrad

"A boring straight brute can be a great fuck..."

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Midway through my first year in the new town I had moved to, a waitress named Jenny began working at the pub down the road from my gallery. She was only employed there over a six week period, as I will explain later. Her boyfriend was a guy called Conrad, and I only met him on three occasions. Conrad had recently acquired work in the building industry, in a city two hundred miles away. Because of that distance, he only visited Jenny every second weekend during her service at the pub.

We all knew from the start that this was somewhat of a temporary job for her, and that she would ultimately seek work in the city where Conrad worked. Jenny was fairly attractive and had a lovely personality. Jenny was visiting her parents at the time, so that Conrad could find a permanent place for them to live. Conrad was very hot… well, as far as my taste was concerned. He was a big, strapping guy and extremely butch. He wore the biggest boots I had ever seen on a man and I was mesmerised by the thought of his very large feet.

On the first Saturday that he visited the town, he ended up working as the barman at the pub. The regular barman had called in sick with a dose of the flu, and Naomi, the owner of the bar, asked Conrad if was prepared to help out. Obligingly, Conrad did so. That first evening I saw him he had a very stern expression and constantly frowned. I imagined that it was because he was concentrating as hard as hell, to do his job properly.

Having arrived in the pub earlier I did my usual chitchat with a few of the locals, before moving to the bar counter to order a beer. I was surprised when Conrad greeted me by name. Impressed as I was, nevertheless I realised that while I had been milling around someone had obviously told him that I was ‘the village gay’.

When I eventually sat at a table facing the bar, I really got a got a good look at Conrad as I waited for my food. I mentioned to Sandra, the other waitress attending to me, that Conrad was dishy and that it was a real pity that he didn’t smile from time to time. Sandra had a great sense of humour and we often shared asides about the hot men at the pub. To my horror, Sandra then told Conrad what I had said. When he glared at me afterward I almost shat myself, expecting him to approach me and give me lip. After a few seconds of observing me, however, a smile broke out on his face. What a relief! When I left the pub later on Conrad bid me goodnight, again using my first name.

Two Saturdays later, when Conrad once more visited the village, he engaged me in a long conversation at the pub. He wasn’t working behind the bar on this occasion. Truthfully, he was a bit of a bore, albeit a good-looking butch bore. He was seriously into hunting and I got a lecture about guns, meat, and skinning the animals he had shot. This was not really the kind of conversation that tickled my fancy. After an early dinner, I left the pub a short while later.

Fourteen days later, again on a Saturday, I would see Conrad one final time. Jenny had secured a job in the city where Conrad worked and would accompany him back to the city the following day. That night, as I ate, he again joined me at my table and regaled me with more stories of how macho he was. I was rather relieved when I finished my meal and mentioned that I needed to be on my way.

“I’ve never seen your gallery,” he stated.

“Well, why don’t you pop around tomorrow? I’m open from nine till five,” I answered.

“I know it's afterhours,” he replied, “but, would you mind if I take a look around your place tonight?”

“Sure, no problem,” I answered, hiding my reluctance. We left the pub summarily and headed for the gallery. After switching all the lights on I asked him if he wanted a drink.

“Rum and Coke, if you have it,” he requested. Fortunately, I was able to oblige. Drinks in hand I then gave him a conducted tour. I got the impression that he wasn’t all that fascinated, but he feigned his disinterest rather well. After finally returning to my lounge he asked, “So do you ever get laid in this remote place?”

“Fairly frequently,” I bragged.

“Really… Anyone I have met in the bar?” he questioned, with a surprised frown.

“Conrad, I never kiss and tell,” I uttered with a laugh.

Sniggering, Conrad placed his drink on the table. And after fiddling with his phone he motioned me to move over to him. With me standing at his right side Conrad then lifted his phone with his left arm and with the screen facing us, we were soon watching a hunky man with a big cock fucking the life out of some woman. After a short while he said, “This is my favourite part coming up.” The woman in the video then got to her knees and began blowing the guy. With a laugh he stated, “This is what I miss most of all.”

Observing the look of surprise on my face, he continued, “The last blowjob that I had was when I was in my teens.”

“Doesn’t Jenny do blowjobs?” I questioned naïvely.

After another laugh he said, “She can’t.” Before I could ask another question he continued, “By the time I was sixteen, my cock was just too thick to suck and there is no way anyone can fit my dick in their mouth.” Smiling he resumed, “Jenny does her best, but all she is able to do is lick my shaft and knob-head.” A sustained silence followed.

Mesmerised I asked, “Just how thick is your dick?”

Smiling impishly he replied, “Ah ha, I wondered how long it would take for you to ask.

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So now the pussy-boy wants to see my knob,” he uttered with mock derision. Stammering, I apologised.

“That’s okay,” he countered, “Ask and ye shall see,” he concluded with laugh. After unbuckling his belt he pushed his trouser down, before dropping his underpants as well. Having just watched the video, Conrad’s cock was still semi erect, and my eyes almost popped out as I looked at the monster before me. His knob was shaped like a football and the middle part of the shaft was unbelievably fat. Conrad’s huge hand could scarcely encase it and there was at least an open inch between his thumb and middle finger as he toyed with himself.

Staring in disbelief, all I could manage was, “Jesus.” After a brief pause I then continued, “How the fuck does Jenny handle that?”

“She yelps a lot,” he said, snorting, with a macho look of self-satisfaction on his face. “After we marry, I want to breed with her straightaway so that her pussy hopefully is stretched enough after having the baby, to stop her constant whining.” He was disgustingly appealing and my backside ached to be misused by this misogynistic idiot.

After glaring at me for a brief while, and with a cruel look on his face he inquired, “So do you think you would be man enough to deal with this rectum-wrecker?”

For several seconds I quietly observed his knob, which had become fully erect. Cock-hound that I am, however, I could not resist and simply nodded my head. Conrad began to remove his t-shirt as he ordered me to strip. “Let me get the lube,” I suggested, once naked.

“Nah, I hate lube,” he said. “Spit and pre-cum will do the job,” he finalised.

As I bent over the back of the sofa I braced myself for my puckers ultimate test. After I heard him spitting he ran the front of his cock over my hole, and I could feel my crevice becoming slicker. Then, after pushing the overhang of his ample foreskin into my hole, he assured me that this action would assist with his entry. As his dick-head began to slide forward in the sheath he had created, his glans began its exploration of my manhole. He slowly commenced stretching me, ever open. Initially it felt wonderful, but with every inch of his incursion my hole began to ache as he prised my sphincter apart.

His strong hands on my hips left me in no doubt that bailing was not an option, and as the mid-section of his knob really started conquering my butt-hole, my eyes almost popped out of my head. Growing tired of my grunting and yelping, Conrad lost patience and executed a slam-dunk. As I cried out, Conrad guffawed stating, “Happy, pussy-boy? This is what comes from lusting after a straight man’s cock. Suffer, baby, suffer.”

Talk about divine agony! The bully didn’t even hold still for the briefest moment before he began riding my arse. Pain turned into numbness, and then unbelievable pleasure followed. Once he had sensed my pleasure he exaggerated his thrusting, as I squirmed with delight. Taking his time he sniggered with brutish delight, all the while chastising me with obscenities. “You will never have a constipation problem after this, pussy-boy,” he announced with crude delight. “You’ll be dreaming about this cock of mine tomorrow, when you can’t sit properly,” he concluded with a growl.

Conrad really thumped my backside before blasting his straight spunk into me. As I lay over the back of the sofa, sweating, he plopped his knob out of me. When I finally arose he had a maniacal look on his face. Smirking he uttered, “Sometimes people’s eyes are bigger their arseholes.”

Before we got dressed I asked him for one final favour. “May I please see your feet,” I begged.

Observing me with the demeanour of a conqueror, he magnanimously answered in the affirmative. Conrad then removed his boots and socks. His large feet were magnificent. “May I lick them?” I implored. With a benevolent gesture he nodded.

As I began to worship he sighed with pleasure, but after a short while called me to a halt. “I had better get back to the bar,” he concluded.

After we got dressed I watched him walk back to the pub. As I stood watching the swaggering specimen of manliness, my backside ached with contentment.

 

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Written by Tuppie
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