#137 (Entire)

I tore my mouth away and looked at my teeth marks and saliva on his neck. A plum coloured bruise was freshly developing. It felt strange and dangerous and exciting. This was a hulk of a man. At least 6,3 and packed solid. I could fit into his arms twice. I grabbed his crotch and interrogated the contours of his dick through his jeans. It was hard but springy; not too long but thick; definitely snipped. It was perfect.

After working him up to full attention I stepped back. I felt dream drunk with arousal. I began unbuttoning my shirt, watching intently as he followed, as he wrestled his way out off his tight t-shirt, revealing his abdomen and chest in classic poses. He was hairy, but not overly. Enough to be brute of a male God but not enough to be neanderthal. He was so far from anyone I'd ever had before as to be pornographic.

With our tops off I lunged at him again. I couldn't resist. I gripped and massaged chucks of flesh and muscle.. I sought out and explored his shoulder blades and rib bones, bumped along his spine as though it were written in braille. I bit, nibbled, sucked and slobbered my way up his chest. He didn't really respond, but that was ok, for now. He was warm and alive. I kissed and tongued my way along his jaw bone. “I need you to Fuck me,” I breathed into it, “And make it hurt!” I finished into his ear.

The brute grinned.
He acted like he understood.
He put me at arms distance.
He looked like he meant business.
This one was gruesome.

He dipped his thumbs behind the buckle of his belt, expertly popped it open and pushed his trousers down. The guy even undressed with a verve. Compared to him I was an amateur – stripping off hastily like someone about to go skinny dipping. When I straightened up the Brute was facing me. I shuddered with the naughty, subversive excitement that comes from two men, out in public, stripped down to the animal.

“So you want me to hurt you?” hissed the Brute, first pushing me up against a Judas tree, then simultaneously pressing my head down while pulling me back from under my rib cage so as I was bending for him.

“O' yeah;” I groaned, “You're fucking for my future... I want you to fuck me back into existence!” From the underside, the Brute copped a hold of my balls, squeezed them around a little and then slid his hand forward and took a hold of my cock. I gave myself up a little more. “Stay there!” he said.

From somewhere behind me I heard him rustling about. My heart was swinging to a strange beat. I looked at the Judas tree and wondered how many people had been fucked up against it. Then he was back and the tree was gone – just something to steady myself against. The Brute slapped a huge wad of lube between my arse cheeks and started fingering me open. I made to push myself back onto his hand, but each time I tried he retreated. He was either teasing me or buttering me up for something very special.

And then my face scrunched up against the tree trunk and it felt like I'd been stabbed in the heart. I pushed back hard. It felt like something was trapped inside me, like all the air in my body had hit a one way valve and couldn't get out. And then the Brute was fucking away, and it hurt, and it felt so good that it hurt so bad. I needed to breathe. My face was strained. The pressure inside was at bursting point. Something needed to come out. But the Brute just banged relentlessly away, pushing more and more air up inside of me. Then suddenly it gave way. As the Brute slammed into me once more all my pain and hurt and pleasure and ecstasy and life force came hurtling out my mouth in one tremendous scream of joy and rage. And it felt like I was being born, or giving birth, or both. I felt like I was alive.

After a few minutes of acclimatisation, the Brute's cock – which he'd rammed into me with no warning and such force – became much easier to ride. My body seemed to have accommodated it's girth, and mixed with the lube, the pain was now tomorrows problem. Just as well because this animal wasn't letting up. He continued pounding me to shit, tearing me wide open in his bear attack. I relaxed and lent my weight against the Judas tree, taking in pieces of bark and following tiny leaves as they fluttered down to our vibrations and covered the floor like autumn gold. And each time the Brute thrust forward, the heavens spun, and my eyes squinted the world away.

At clearer moments during my wonderful ordeal I caught sight of other bodies in the wood. Legs, arms, faces, tips of sexual organs, buttocks, etc. To the other side, barely ten metres away were the public. Walkers and strollers or workers cutting through the common on their lunch break. Occasionally someone's eyes would crack the Magic Puzzle and the secrets of the undergrowth would show through and be revealed. At such times it became even more thrilling.

When finally the Brute thrust forward, held his position and I felt his dick twitching and jerking away inside me, I hastily brought myself to climax too. I came in one huge spurt which hit the trunk of the Judas tree and burst open like a broken heart. As my clenched buttocks relaxed I felt the teeniest twinge of pain. The Brute withdrew and already I missed his warmth.

If earlier I had waited excitedly for what would arrive from behind, now I dreaded it. Those familiar packing up and leaving noises always hit me hard. And then there it was, the sound of stretched rubber and a little 'snap'. The Brute's sloppy condom flew passed my left shoulder and landed on the ground. The saddest full-stop of my life.


  1. OK - Try as I might I've never gotten into S&M.

    Although my nephew insists I'd be great 'master'.

    I think that's what he said.

  2. Abigail: Firstly, sorry about your comments to the first post, but they still exist and I'll repost them just for the history.

    S&M, well, I'm not really into that myself, but it seems every many who gets his clutches on me is. I prefer softer, more loving, I suppose soppy sex (except for the watersports of course!) But sometimes, and I'm not talking nipple clamps or ball weights, it's nice to feel the true power of a man... to be taken by surprise to the point where its 50/50 whether its pleasureable or not. My Brute served to remind me that there are other men out there, relieve my recent frustrations and to mark a bit of a turning point: fucking John out my system. That had to be a little painful, though whether the exorcism worked or not is another thing entirely...


  3. Having said that, the word 'Brute' turns me on.

    Reminds me of the ad for Brute aftershave.

  4. That reminds me of the Calvin Klein Obsession line in your book.

    I was actually re-reading your book just the other day. I had a real wonderful moment with it which I was going to mail you about but which suddenly seemed too soppy! It was saturday afternoon and the TV was off, and the place was freshly tidied and I just started flicking through Obsessions. And somehow the light from outside (and it was a wonderful autumn day - they're beginning here) shone through right across the pages of your book. It sort of lit up and as I read, it mixed with the day and the moment and I could smell every word and person and place. It was magic. One of those days where a book just takes you away and you don't need anyone, or anything and the bed and the light is just perfect and you read until you're squinting in the dark, when you realize that the sun is down, the shops are closedand the day is gone. Well when that happens there's only one thing for it: read on!

    And I was glad I done that, because I caught the Cartland piece (monocled lesbian, etc) When you mentioned that here I missed that it was from your book and then felt bad! haha But now it's put to memory.

    It's strange reading Obsessions again, because there are so many nice similarities and little references with WFJ. A few intentional, a few half-inched, a some purely coincidental. It was the book I read right previous to beginning to write WFJ so in many ways was the start of it.

    Oh, I'm rambling... something I promised myself I'd never do online. So I'll stop before it goes too far...

  5. (Out of character but too lazy to change the hotmail ID )

    Thank you so much. It's strange that writers get so uptight about the internet. I've had more feedback about my books from the net - via DC's etc - than I ever got when it was just paper.

    All that stuff you say about the sun etc,well...and I love that you (rather, Tristram) 'liked' my Facebook link to Lou Reeds's Perfect Day.

    I'm glad I spent it with you.

  6. Incredible! Awesome! Fantastic! I love it!

  7. Abigail OFC: Yes, I know what you mean about the internet and writing. i don't understand writers qualms with it. For me, I would probably never have written anything properly if it wasn't for the net. The most important for me is the immediacy of the reaction to the words. I need that, and enjoy it. While I'm still passionate about them to see and hear how they went down and if people dug the lines that seemed great. I used to get that from songwriting (I've written hundreds of songs over the years) but that format is very restricting and so I done that until I felt confident and competent enough to write on a larger scale. But I love the immediacy of the net. Also, I look at it as my publisher. Ok, I'm not paid, but the words are out there and could be discovered or get around by word of mouth. So it is kind of like having your notebook on permanant display. I try not to put notes on the net, but rather finished pieces. i don't really like all these blogs with paragraphs and fragments of thoughts, that's what I was hinting at yesterday when I said I'd promised myself I wouldn't ramble... Well, I'm almost doing it again!

    In terms of your work, yes, I can see why you get a bigger reaction online. You probably have a bigger audience waiting here (unpaid unfortunately) than what a small publishing house can offer. It's something I'd like to talk about with you, because I suppose by getting excited and jumping at the first offer it could very possible ruin any real chance of success.

  8. Hedgehogs: Thank you... that's very, very kind. X


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