Chapter 2: The Table Continued
Marcus began to move faster, his hips slamming into John with more force, the sound of skin smacking against skin filling the room. "Fuck, John, you feel so good," Marcus groaned, his voice thick with lust. "Your tight little ass is gripping my cock like a fucking vice." He leaned forward, his body blanketing John's, his hands gripping John's hips even tighter. "You like that, don't you? You like having my big black cock inside you?" Yes, I like it. Fuck, I love it," John managed to gasp out, his voice course with desire. "Your cock feels so fucking good inside me. It's so big, so fucking thick." He could feel every inch of Marcus, could feel the length and girth of him stretching him wide open. It was a sensation that bordered on pain, but it was a pain that John craved, that he welcomed. Marcus leaned forward, his body covering John's like a blanket, his hands moving from John's hips to his shoulders, gripping him tightly. "You want more, don't you, John?" Marcus growled, his voice low and gravelly. "You want me to fuck you harder, to give you every inch of this big black cock, don't you?" John could only nod, his body shaking with each forceful thrust, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Yes... Fuck, yes. I want all of it. I want you to fuck me hard, to use me, to make me your fucking bitch." Marcus let out a low, primal growl, a sound that sent shivers down John's spine. "That's it, you’re a fucking dirty old man, aren’t you? You want it all, don't you?" Marcus snarled, his voice raw with lust. "You want me to fuck you like the little slut you are." He pulled back slightly, his powerful thighs flexing as he pistoned his hips, driving his cock deeper and harder into John. The sound of their skin slapping together filled the room, along with John's moans and Marcus's grunts.
Marcus stopped pulled out, flipped John over onto his back, pulled him to the edge of the massage table and re-entered him in one swift move. Shoving his cock back into the hilt. John screamed and his head pushed back opening up his throat and letting out a guttural moan. "Fuck, that's it, John," Marcus grunted. "Rub that cock while I fuck your ass. Jerk that dick while I pound this tight little hole." John's hand moved in time with Marcus's thrusts, Marcus’s hand joined John’s their fingers intertwined as he matched Marcus's rhythm. The sensation of Marcus's cock filling him, combined with the friction of his own hand, sent waves of pleasure coursing through his body. Marcus's hips moved faster, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his orgasm. "Fuck, John, you feel so good," Marcus panted, his voice ragged.
"Your ass is so fucking lose. You're so fucking open." Marcus's hand tightened around John's cock, his strokes becoming more forceful, matching the pace of his thrusts. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed through the room, interspersed with their ragged breaths and guttural moans.
John could feel his orgasm building, the pleasure coiling in his belly like a snake ready to strike. He could feel the heat of Marcus's body, the sweat dripping from his chest onto him.
He could taste the saltiness of it on his lips, could feel the coarse hairs on Marcus's legs brush against his thighs. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, the scent of their sex permeating the air. It was raw, primal, and fucking hot. Marcus's let go of Johns hand and cock. Again, with ease he lifted him up the table before climbing on between Johns legs over his shoulders. Again, with a thrust Marcus was deeper in him than before. Winding john and struggling to breath Marcus was more demanding, more forceful. "That's it, John," he grunted, his voice thick with lust. "Take that cock. Show me how much you want this. Show me you can take everything I have to give." Marcus's voice was a dark growl, the heat of his breath hot on John's ear. His hips moved faster, his cock slamming in and out of John with forceful thrusts, each one driving John further towards the edge.
John moaned, his hand moving faster on his cock, his grip tightening as he chased his orgasm. He could feel the pleasure building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment. He looked up at him, his eyes locking with Marcus's. Now able to breath and used to the size again, "Fuck me," John gasped, his voice ragged. "Give it to me. Give me everything you've got." His eyes were wild, his body taut with need. Marcus's response was a primal, hungry sound, a growl of pure animal lust. He tightened his grip on John, his strokes becoming relentless, punishing. "You want it, you fucking take it," he snarled, his hips snapping forward, his cock driving deep into John's ass with brutal force. "Take my cock. Take my fucking cum, you dirty little slut." Marcus leaned in and kissed him hard, pushing his tongue into John’s mouth. This was the first time John had ever kissed another man but in his submissive state and with Marcus’s big black cock about to send him over the edge without even touching his own cock it felt right.
John's body shook with each forceful thrust, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Fuck, Marcus, I'm close," John managed to grunt out, his voice thick with lust. I need to come. I need to come so fucking bad." Marcus let out a low, guttural growl, his hips slamming into John with even more force. "That's it, John. Give it to me. Pour it into me, you fucking beast," John begged, his voice a raw, desperate plea. His own hand was moving furiously on his cock, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. He could feel the pressure building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in his belly. Marcus's grip on John's hips tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pounded into him with reckless abandon. The sound of their bodies slapping together was deafening, the scent of sex and sweat filling the air. Marcus's cock was a piston, a relentless force that was driving John to the edge. The slap of skin against skin filled the room, the scent of sweat and sex thick in the air. John's body was on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation. He could feel Marcus's cock stretching him, filling him, the sensation bordering on pain but somehow, somehow it was the best fucking pain he'd ever felt.
The slap of Marcus’s balls against John’s ass was a brutal, rhythmic counterpoint to their ragged breathing. Sweat slicked John’s body, mingling with Marcus’s sweat dripping onto him. Each deep, piston-like drive of Marcus’s hips sent a shockwave through John’s frame, stretching him impossibly wider, the burning stretch a near-constant ache beneath the overwhelming surge of raw sensation. "Fuck! Oh god, Marcus!" John gasped, the words ripped from him. His knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the massage table, the cool leather offering no relief against the heat consuming him. His own cock, thick and flushed, bobbed heavily between them, leaking steadily. Marcus’s earlier ministrations had brought him to the razor’s edge, and staying there, held in this relentless, deep-fucking suspension, was agony and ecstasy fused together.
Marcus leaned forward, his powerful chest pressing hot against John’s chest. One massive hand remained clamped on John’s hip, fingers digging in, anchoring him for the thrusts. The other between them John’s torso, calloused fingers finding John’s left nipple. He pinched, hard and sudden. "Ahh! Fuck!" John arched, a fresh jolt of sensation spearing through him. Marcus twisted the nipple, pulling it taut as his hips kept driving. "You love this, don’t you, John?" Marcus growled, his voice thick and rough against the shell of John’s ear. His breath was hot, laboured. "Love getting your fuckin' hole stretched wide open? Love takin' this big black cock deep in your married ass?" The crude words, the sheer reality of what he was doing – bent in half over a massage table by a big black man with a cock that felt like it was rearranging his insides – sent a fresh wave of depraved heat flooding John’s system. He felt filthy. Used. And he craved more.
"Yes! God, yes!" John choked out, pushing back against Marcus’s thrusts, meeting him with desperate, clumsy urgency. "Fuck me! Fuck me deeper! Stretch me! Use me!" His voice cracked, raw with need and the strain of holding back his climax. Marcus rewarded him by shifting his angle slightly. The head of his condom-sheathed cock dragged hard across John’s prostate. A white-hot spark of pure, blinding pleasure detonated low in John’s belly. He cried out, a guttural sound ripped from his core, his whole body jerking violently. His vision swam, stars exploding behind his eyelids. “Found it, didn’t I, you dirty slut?" Marcus grunted, a note of predatory satisfaction in his voice. He pulled back almost entirely, leaving John clenching around sudden, aching emptiness, then slammed forward again, unerringly targeting the same spot. "Right there. That sweet spot." He began a new rhythm, shorter, sharper thrusts focused solely on hammering that bundle of nerves. Each impact sent electric shocks radiating outwards, coiling the tension in John’s groin impossibly tighter. His cock throbbed, heavy and desperate. Pre-cum flowed freely now, slicking his shaft. "Marcus... Marcus, I can’t..." John babbled, tears stinging his eyes from the sheer intensity. "Gonna cum... fuck, I’m gonna cum..."
"Not yet," Marcus commanded, his voice like gravel. The hand pinching John’s nipple moved lower, sliding over sweat-slicked stomach, the coarse hair tickling. Fingers closed around the base of John’s cock, a tight, punishing ring of pressure. "You cum when I tell you to cum. Hold it. Hold that fucking load inside you. Feel it build."
The denial was exquisite torture. John whimpered, his hips bucking involuntarily, trying to fuck into that tight fist, trying to force the building explosion past Marcus’s grip as Marcus’s cock continued its brutal assault inside him. He felt like he was being torn apart and remade, every nerve ending screaming. The pressure behind Marcus’s hand was immense, painful, a dam holding back a flood. Marcus’s own breathing grew harsher, more ragged. The rhythm of his hips faltered, becoming less controlled, more frantic. The wet slap of flesh on flesh echoed louder in the candlelit room, underscored by their gasps and moans. The scent of sex, musky and primal, hung thick in the air, mingling with the expensive candle wax. John could smell Marcus’s sweat, his own, the sharp tang of lube. "Fuck, John," Marcus groaned, his voice strained. "Your hole is so lose but your ass... so fuckin' tight inside... sucking me in..." He leaned harder, his weight pressing Johns back down into the table. His thrusts lost their precision, becoming longer, deeper, driven by pure, mounting need. "Gonna fill this condom... gonna pump it full..." The promise, the sheer dominance of it, was the final trigger John couldn’t resist. The coil inside him snapped.
"NOW! Marcus, please! Let me cum! FUCK!" John begged, his voice breaking into a sob. "Need it! Please!" Marcus released his grip on John’s cock. The sudden freedom was cataclysmic. With a roar that felt ripped from his soul, John came. Thick, hot ropes of cum pulsed violently from his cock, splattering onto the towel beneath him, onto the leather of the table, even hitting his own thighs. It was an uncontrolled, shuddering release, waves of blinding pleasure crashing through him, momentarily eclipsing the deep, stretching pressure of Marcus’s cock still buried inside him. His ass clenched rhythmically, milking Marcus involuntarily. The intense contractions around his cock pushed Marcus over the edge. With a deep, guttural groan that vibrated through John’s entire body, Marcus drove his cock as deep as it would go, grinding his hips hard against John’s ass. John could feel the thick shaft pulsing violently within him as Marcus emptied himself into the condom. Marcus held himself there, buried to the hilt, his body trembling with the force of his climax, his breath coming in ragged gasps against John’s neck.
For long moments, the only sounds were their heavy breathing and the faint hum of the stereo. John lay spent, trembling, his muscles liquefied. The cool air felt sharp on his sweat-drenched skin. The deep ache between his legs was profound, a constant reminder of what had just happened. Marcus remained slumped over him, his weight a heavy, grounding presence. John could feel the rapid thud of Marcus’s heart against his chest, a frantic counterpoint to the slowing drumbeat of his own.
Slowly, Marcus pulled out. The sensation made John wince, a sharp tug followed by a strange, hollow emptiness. He heard the soft snap of the condom being removed, the sound obscene and final in the sudden quiet. Marcus straightened up slowly, his breathing still heavy. He placed a large, warm hand on John’s stomach. "You good, John?" His voice was rough but held a thread of something resembling concern beneath the exhaustion. John took a shuddering breath, trying to find his voice. His mind felt foggy, adrift on the receding tide of endorphins. "Yeah," he managed, the word thick and slurred. "Fuck, Marcus... that was..." "Intense," Marcus finished for him, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. He gave John’s back a brief, almost paternal pat. "Give yourself a minute. Catch your breath." He moved away, the sound of running water coming from a sink John couldn’t see. John lay there, staring at the ceiling The scent of their coupling was overwhelming. His body felt simultaneously shattered and humming with residual energy. He could still feel the ghost of Marcus moving inside him. The sticky mess between his legs was cooling. Behind the physical exhaustion, a flicker of something else stirred – a complex mix of exhilaration, shame, and a deep, unsettling satisfaction that resonated in his bones. The suburban quiet outside the discreet house felt a million miles away. The drive home awaited. Jane awaited. But for now, he just breathed, feeling utterly spent and irrevocably changed. The water stopped running. Marcus would be back. The silence stretched, thick with the aftermath. John satisfied but yea red for more, Marcus was ready to fist John, was John ready for Marcus?
Marcus chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers down John's spine. "Alright then, let's see what you're made of." He snapped on a pair of gloves, the latex stretching taut over his large hands. He poured a generous amount of lube into his palm, warming it between his hands before reaching down to grasp John's cock. “Turn over John, on your front” John obeyed slowly.
Marcus began to stroke johns’ cock, his grip firm and steady, as he slid his other hand between John's cheeks, his fingers one, then two, then three fingers finding the tight pucker of muscle that guarded John's entrance. John moaned as Marcus's fingers entered him, the initial intrusion sending a shiver of pleasure through his body. Marcus listened to the sound, a low, guttural moan that sent heat straight to his groin. He wanted more of that, wanted to hear John beg for more. “You like that, don't you, slut?" Marcus asked, his voice a low growl as he pushed his fingers deeper, stretching John open adding a fourth up to the knuckles. John could only nod, his breath coming in short gasps as he adjusted to the intrusion. His body was on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation.
He could feel Marcus's four fingers pushing into him, stretching him wider he thought about Jane and how many times she had done this to him. He let out a low moan, his head falling forward as he adjusted to the intrusion. "Fuck" he gasped, his voice thick with lust and pain. "Your fingers... they're so fucking big." Marcus grinned, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched John squirm beneath him. "That's just the beginning, you about to become my hand puppet” he murmured, his fingers curling inside John, seeking that spot that would make John's back arch. "You're going to take so much more than this." John's breath hitched, his body tensing as Marcus found that spot, the one that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his body. "Oh, fuck," he moaned, his hips moving involuntarily, his body begging for more. “Take a big hit of poppers Marcus ordered” John obliged, feeling the heat from head to toe, then feeling his ass relax and the only sensation was Marcus’s fingers and the pressure in his ass.
John's eyes rolled back, his body trembling as Marcus's skilled fingers found that perfect spot inside him, sending electric shocks of pleasure coursing through his entire being. He could feel every inch of Marcus, could feel the stretch, the burn, the intense sensation that bordered on pain but was somehow the most exquisite pleasure he'd ever experienced. Marcus watched John's reaction with a smug satisfaction, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He loved seeing John squirm, loved watching him lose control. He could feel the tight grip of John's body around his fingers, the heat and the pulse of John's heartbeat. He could sense John's desperation, his need for more, and he was more than happy to oblige. He pushed all of his fingers deeper, pushing slowly but steadily, stretching John wider, preparing him for what was to come right up to his thumb joint. John's moan was instantaneous, a guttural sound that echoed through the room. His body tensed, his muscles clenching around Marcus's hand as he adjusted to the intrusion. "Fuck, Marcus," he gasped, his voice thick with pleasure. "You're so fucking filthy..." He trailed off, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he felt his insides adjust.
Marcus leaned forward, his body covering John's completely, his free hand gripping John's hip tightly. "You enjoying it, John," he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "You're doing so good. Relax those muscles for me, John," Marcus soothed, his fingers still deep inside John, feeling John's body adjusting to the intrusion. He could feel John's ass tighten around his fingers, the grip almost painful, but he knew that was just his body's way of accommodating the stretch. John's body was taut, his muscles clenched, a testament to how hard he was fighting to accept the invasion. Marcus leaned down, his lips brushing against John's ear. "Breathe, old man. You're doing just fine." Marcus could feel the tension in John's body, could sense his struggle to relax, to open up, to take what Marcus was giving him. But he knew John could handle it, knew that John wanted this, needed this. “Take another hit of poppers John, relax”.
John took another hit. Slowly, Marcus began to move his hand and fingers, gently thrusting them in and out of John, stretching him, preparing him for more. John moaned, his body relaxing slightly as he adjusted to the sensation. His hand, which had been gripping his own cock tightly, now reached out, seeking Marcus's. He found it, wrapping his fingers around the thick shaft, feeling the heat and the hardness of it. He looked up at Marcus in the mirror, his eyes heavy-lidded, his expression one of pure need and lust. John’s hand tightened around Marcus’s cock, slick with pre-cum, his thumb swiping over the swollen head. He pumped it slowly, relishing its heat and heft. "Fuck, you’re so hard," John rasped, his own neglected dick throbbing against his stomach.
Marcus growled, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. He withdrew his fingers from John’s ass, leaving the hole clenching around emptiness. Marcus re-lubed his hand before squirting more lube into John's ass, then twisted his hand around and pushed his hand deeper into John’s hole. His hand slid in up to the thumb joint easily. "That’s it," Marcus hissed, his hips nudging forward. "Take it deeper, you greedy fuck." John gasped, the stretch intense, almost painful. He focused on breathing deeply. Marcus watched John’s face in the mirror, Marcus’s eyes narrowed with predatory focus. "Deep breaths ain't gonna soften you enough for this slut," he rasped, twisting his buried hand slightly. John’s whole body tensed, a choked gasp escaping his lips as the stretch intensified, the burn sharp and undeniable. "Fuck... Marcus... it’s... huge..." John managed, voice strained, knuckles white where they gripped the table’s edge. Marcus withdrew his fingers with a slick pop. His asshole clenching violently around sudden emptiness, the stretched ring throbbing.