Page 6 of Joey's Trick
Joey breathed in deep and leaned his forehead on the broad shoulder in front of him. He knew the guy wasn’t Trick, yet the fact he looked similar enough to him had caused him to lose his head. He reached down and wiped some of the lube from the condom onto two fingers before sliding those fingers betweenthe muscular ass cheeks. Trick… no, he needed to stop. It wasn’t Trick. The stranger groaned as Joey probed at his entrance and then slid inside. Joey gave a few quick thrusts of his fingers to loosen the guy up and then pulled away to replace the digits with his cock. He pushed in slowly and evenly.
“Fuck, man. That’s a gigantic cock,” the guy groaned. “Take it easy at first.”
Joey gave a few shallow thrusts to allow his hookup to adjust and then began moving faster until he could have been trying to fuck the guy through the stall wall. He dug his fingers into the guy’s hips to hold him immobile in the onslaught of his still fiery anger. The thump of the loud music from the jukebox kept time with his hard slams into not-Trick. Joey couldn’t tell what song played right then, but he didn’t care. Not-Trick grunted and moaned, clearly enjoying the vicious fucking.
Finally, Joey felt his balls tightening as he got closer to coming. What tipped him over the edge and made him fill the condom was the sensation of Not-Trick’s hole contracting suddenly around his cock. A loud guttural groan rattled in Not-Trick’s throat and Joey knew the guy had shot his load all over the stall wall. Joey leaned his head back and sneered as he came, each hard pulse sending a shudder of gut-wrenching pleasure through him.
He collapsed against Not-Trick’s back for a moment to catch his breath. The moment his cock softened enough to pull free of Not-Trick’s hole, Joey stripped the condom, dropped it in the toilet and stuffed his flaccid dick back in his pants, carefully zipping up. “That was good. Thanks, man.”
“I wouldn’t want to be the guy you’re raging about,” Not-Trick drawled as he straightened his own clothing.
Joey shrugged and opened the stall door, exiting it and heading to wash his hands. He caught sight in the mirror of a guy standing at the urinal, staring at him. Joey smirked and dried hishands. His sexual appeal to the surrounding men made him feel good. He ignored the fact it would only temporarily fill him with confidence. Eventually the confidence waned again, and Joey would have to repeat the experience he’d just had to bring back the emotion.
Despite his outward cockiness and his megawatt smile, Joey still struggled every day with the person he used to be. Ignoring the inner voice of his previous chubby persona wasn’t easy. It would remind him of how much of a loser he used to be. How he’d been so pathetic even Trick had called him a disgusting faggot. Joey swallowed hard, forcing back the thoughts. He wouldn’t let them do that to him again.
He left the bathroom and headed toward the bar. The bartender gave him a knowing look, but remained silent except to ask, “Another drink?”
“Yeah, straight up.”
The bartender set a snifter on the bar, grabbed the same top shelf bottle, and poured two fingers. Joey tipped it back, tossed a twenty on the counter, and stood. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks. Be careful out there. Cops been watching who comes out of here lately.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
Out in the parking lot, Joey looked around casually as he walked to his car. He didn’t see any of the customary lights on top of the vehicles, so he felt pretty safe at getting into his car. Of course, he’d forgotten cops could also be in unmarked vehicles. As he backed out of the spot, he heard sirens and a red light flashed across his dash. “Fuck,” Joey swore.
This would be great to explain to his parents. He put the BMW in park and lowered the window, waiting for the cop to come to his window. “Evening, Officer,” he greeted as the guy stopped at his driver’s side. “Is there a problem?”
“License and registration please.”
Joey suppressed a sigh and took out his wallet to retrieve his license, then went to lean over to open his glove box for the registration.
“What are you doing? Hands where I can see them, sir,” the police officer demanded, hand on his holster.
Joey put his hands back on the wheel quickly. “My registration is in the glove box, Officer.”
“Keep your left hand on the steering wheel. Slowly reach over and take out the registration.”
Hiding his face as he rolled his eyes, Joey left his one hand in plain sight while unlatching the compartment. The officer shined the light into the car to ensure Joey had no weapons. Joey passed over the paper registration he had until his plates came. “It’s a new car, Officer.”
The cop grunted and looked over the paper and Joey’s license. “Says here you’re from Orlando, Mr. Waters. What are you doing down here?”
“My parents are having their wedding anniversary. Just down for a few days.”
“Have you had anything to drink?”
Joey debated on lying, but figured the police officer saw him come out of the bar. “A couple.”
“I’m going to need you to step out of the car, sir.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Get out of the car now.”
Joey turned the engine off and opened the door. He got out and waited to see what the officer intended to do.
“I’m going to need you to submit to a sobriety test, Mr. Waters. Walk in a straight line while touching your finger to your nose.”