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Gavin - Intro to Grindr
🕑 Added 2024-07-20 04:57:15 +0000 UTCMy father is American, and my mother is British by way of London. They met while she was visiting NYC, and he was there for a fleet week with the US Navy. She got preggers, and I showed up nine months later in London. While Mum never had a real relationship with my father, she insisted I should. That meant most of my summers were spent in the States, in Pennsylvania, no, not one of the cities, a tiny town called Erie, a very aprapo name if you ask me.
I did my best to put up with the lifestyle growing up, but living in London with Mum and Grandad was really better suited for me by the time I turned fifteen and discovered other boys. I put my foot down that summer, letting my family across the pond know I wouldn’t be joining them for another meat and corn-filled summer by the lake, which, by the way, has to be the coldest body of water this side of the Arctic Circle.
When I turned eighteen in 2013, I had already come out to Mum and Grandad (who thought it was hilarious that I thought he didn’t know). Mum had insisted I spend this summer with my father abroad, saying that it would be good for me before going off to university in the fall. So, since I was tragically single again, the idea of watching farm boys in board shorts down to their knees at the lake all summer wasn’t terrible.
A few weeks into my summer, I was already bored with it all. My father worked most days, and his wife, Katie, was busy with my two little siblings. Tanner was excellent; he was eight years old, but Grace was five and just awful. I had to share a bedroom with Tanner while in Erie, and at first, I didn’t mind; it was nice to get that “real sibling experience” my mates went on about when I would suggest I wished I had a sibling. The downside to having an 8-year-old share a room with you at my age is a lack of privacy for wanking. I thought I would die if I didn’t get relief, or better yet, catch myself a farmer at the hardware store for a blow and go.
The American celebration of their independence from the crown some two hundred years ago is silly to me, but I do love fireworks and food cooked on the grill. It’s also the only time I can convince people to let me have a pint, even though it’s perfectly legal in the country I come from, the one this celebration considers tyrants, but I digress.
“Yo, Gavin, a bunch of us are going down to the lake, are you coming, or are you going to hang here?” I heard Scooter call out to me as his mates piled into the back of his pickup truck with a massive plastic cooler.
I looked at my father, who shrugged his shoulders and told me, “You should go hang out with some kids your own age.” And with that, I was off.
They drove to Presque Isle State Park, where it was absolutely packed with people. Thankfully Scooter had a plan, and his “new stepdad” was in the process of impressing Scooter's mum, so…he went out early and procured a “bitchen spot” for everyone to lay about. I must say the spot was rather bitchen, but it was also quite dull.
By the time the fireworks went off, I was a bit tipsy; having to sneak drinks from the cooler and pretend they were non-alcoholic was not something I fancied and probably didn’t pull off.
Scooter had a cousin who was a bit of a social butterfly, and unlike the lanky farm boy that Scooter was, Big Mike was precisely the type of meat I was looking to put in my mouth, and the more intoxicated I got, the harder it was for me to hide. Big Mike was easily 6’4”, 95 kg (200 pounds) of lean muscle. He introduced himself to me, already shirtless and covered in sweat from throwing the American “football” around (in the air, with their hands) with his mates as he did his best to impress the girls who oohed and ahhed at their testament of raw masculinity. I couldn’t help but notice the bulge in the front of his boardshorts, and even though he had his pants on underneath, with his “Hanes” waistband fully exposed, neither his pants nor his boardshorts did a thing to strap him down. I nearly guffawed at the idea no one else noticed.
I must have spent most of the rest of the celebration drooling over Big Mike before we all went our separate ways.
A week later, I was still so frustrated I did the thing I swore I wouldn’t do and downloaded Grindr on my mobile. Back home, a few of my mates had suggested I download it, but then they would tell me the absolute horror stories about their experiences with “catfishing” and generally bad sexual experiences that left them unsatisfied. Of course, I was dating my ex at the time, so I had no interest in their online dating world. Even after I became single, I still had no interests, I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy, I like to meet people in real life. But here in Pennsylvania, it’s really a big secret who is and isn’t sucking dick on purpose, and I was sick of not getting my dick sucked.
I filled out all of the details, added my pictures, and even put a nice bio about how I’m a friendly Britt here for the summer. To my surprise, I was nearly the only bloke under 50 years old who had that information filled out. Everyone else was a primarily nude, headless photo, with no other information except that they were “looking for right now.” While I am “looking for right now,” I wasn’t comfortable in the least with just meeting one of these blokes without knowing what they look like.
I went another week without wanking, without getting sucked off, and found myself at another lakeside party on a Friday night with Scooter and his mates. In no form of daylight or moonlight would I consider Scooter a viable option; gay or straight, he’s untouchable despite his lean body. His personality is absolutely abhorrent at best, and that is a massive turnoff for me. In any other timeline, I wouldn’t have gone to this party, but with Scooter at the helm, it seemed possible I could run into Big Mike again, but by my third bottle, I was starting to think I had wasted my time with Scooter and his neanderthal mates.
When I found myself sitting around the small campfire, which I was told we strictly were not allowed to have and that rule number one was someone had to be ready to dump sand on it at all times in the event that a park ranger arrived, so the fire was not to be left unattended. When the two girls named Amber got up to take a walk, it seemed I was the lone fire watcher at this point. So I opened up Grinder and started hitting up the closest headless torsos in my age group, hoping one of them would be hiding in the brush and willing to swallow a load for me. I made it clear I was more than ready to pop at the slightest touch. I found it odd how many tough American boys are afraid of the European Standard when it comes to penises, but these boys loved cut cocks.
“Gavin, I didn’t expect you to be here,” I heard Big Mike's familiar and most sexy voice. “How did Scooter drag you out to another one of his stupid parties…twice in the same month?” He laughed, offering his fist for me to bump with mine.
“Biiiig Miiiike,” I dragged out his two-word name like I was announcing for a cable wrestling match, then I clumsily stood and gave him my best attempt at a bro-hug.
“Woh, somebody’s been hitting the sauce hard; you ok?” He put his massive hands on my waist to help me balance.
I giggled, “Brilliant! These wankers left me to watch after the fire for so long I think my legs fell asleep. I need my legs stretched out,” I said, and he laughed. “What?” I shrugged.
“Your legs need to be stretched out, huh?” His eyebrows raised, and a goofy grin spread across his stupid, sexy face.
“Yes, what?” I don’t much like being teased, and while he was adorable, I really wasn’t enjoying him making fun.
He leaned over and grabbed a beer from the cooler, twisting off the top and chucking the cap back into the plastic bin. “Well, here in America, we say we need to stretch our legs,” he chuckled again, “Gettin your legs stretched out sounds a bit more like something a girl does when she’s about to get fuuucked,” he said with a bit of a farm boy drawl to his accent as he stretched out the word “fucked.”
This made me pause; the words coming out of his mouth sounded so dirty but so horny at the same time.
I shook my head, “Well, that too,” and he snickered, shaking his head, and walked off. I’m sure he thought I was joking, but I would let him stretch my legs out in a heartbeat.
As the night wore on, I found myself walking the shoreline in the dark. I found a boulder and leaned against it. Still close enough to the fun to hear the laughter by the fire but far enough away I could listen to the waves crashing gently on the rocks. I pulled out my mobile and opened up Grindr. I had a few messages from older guys, and I was tipsy enough and horny enough that I was about to just tell one of them to come eat my arse and suck me off by the lake, but then I noticed a message from a headless torso called “BM8” and at first I thought it was some sort of American sports reference I didn’t understand, but as I looked at the torso pictures, Christ, that’s Big Mike’s torso right there!
BM8: Hi
It's very original. I rolled my eyes. I don’t know how to play this. Do I ask him straight out if he’s Big Mike? He knows from my photos it’s me. Hell, the proximity alone is almost a dead giveaway. It doesn’t say how far away he is, but he’s at the top of my grid, third from the left. The next furthest guy is less than a mile away.
Me: Hello
I waited, glancing back towards the group. I was a little too far away to make out any one person, and it was far too dark even if I walked a little closer to see if Big Mike had his phone out when I got a response.
BM8: All good
BM8: Wanna have fun?
Holy shit, he has to know it’s me, right? I quickly looked at my photos; it definitely looks like me, with slightly artistic lighting in the one photo, but…geez, he’d have to be daft not to know it’s me. Then again, this bloke was a wee bit of a hillbilly from…here.
Me: Yes, what are you on about?
Quickly looking back toward the group, I tried to see if there was any glow other than the fire that could be a phone. It was just too hard to make out, and my vision was a tidbit blurry if I’m being honest.
BM8: Oral fun kissing, nipples play, maybe fuck
BM8: U?
Me: Oral can be fun…
Me: Much prefer getting my arse eaten while wanking myself off.
BM8: Sounds fun too
BM8: I’m into it
BM8: You like poppers?
I tried poppers from one of the corner shops in Covent Garden when I hooked up with a chav at a hotel once, but I didn’t really see the appeal.
Me: Mmmm…love poppers.
Don’t judge me. If he wanted me to huff his poppers while he eats my arse…pop that cap! Then I realized he wanted to know if I like poppers because he’s walloping an “8” incher.
Me: You trying to fuck, eh?
BM8: Not my main idea, depends on the mood
Me: haha, right, what mod are you in?
Me: Mood*
Me: Sorry…kinda drunk 😜
BM8: Hitting poppers and masturbating
Hmm, that's not the answer I was looking for. I mean, I’m always down for a wank, but fuck me, I’ve been wanking in quick moments for weeks; at least suck me off, right?
Me: You have poppers?
This seemed like an excellent way to know if it was Big Mike or not. He was down the beach wearing board shorts with his pants under them (Americans 🙄). He didn’t just have a bottle of poppers in his pockets. I would’ve noticed it bulging in his swimsuit, and there was only one bulge.
BM8: I could eat your hole
BM8: Yes I have some
Damn…probably not Big Mike. I need a photo of his face.
Me: Can I see a photo of you?
BM8: [sends a photo of his rock-hard 8” circumcised cock]
…not the photo I was hoping for, but my pants were getting tight trying to hold my cock down.
Me: Hmm…cut?
BM8: yes? U?
I sent him a picture of my uncircumcised sausage.
BM8: mmm, that’s a thick piece of meat.
I’m 6” cut, but every guy I’ve been with has been surprised by how thick I am.
BM8: what do you feel like doing?
Me: What do you mean?
BM8: we can start with masturbating
Me: I really want to get my arse played with
BM8: Will you let me tease your hole with my cock?
Me: Mmm…that sounds good
BM8: you want to hit poppers too?
I had my hands in my pants, squeezing my cock so it didn’t burst from the friction of the fabric stretching around it. If this isn’t Big Mike…fuck, I don’t care.
Me: Mate, I’ll hit poppers and let you rub your cock anywhere you want lol
BM8: Mmmmmm sounds fun, I like teasing. Will you let me pop the head in?
My heart was thudding against my rib cage. I kept looking back at the guys playing, trying to see if Big Mike maybe wasn’t playing, then perhaps he was off sexting me back, but it was too hard to tell, and I was too hard to walk back.
Me: If you want to
BM8: Only if you let me
BM8: Where are you?
Me: Oh…it’s not about me letting you, it’s about your needs and wants
BM8: Well…if I must tease it deep, I will do it
I’m no stranger to guys trying to bugger me without a rubber, and I’ve done it once or twice with a regular guy but never let them cum in me.
Me: Mmm…you want to get a few strokes in bare and then wrap up?
BM8: Let’s see when we’re together
Me: Lol, I see. You want it bare the entire time.
BM8: Yes I do
BM8: But if you want condoms, I agree
BM8: I’m clean tho
I read and reread his messages, my hormones pulling me from my brain. I started walking back towards the fire, my cock tucked up in the waistband of my pants. After a quick hundred feet, as the sound of the music was getting closer and I could better see who all was around, I noticed Big Mike was not around. I pulled out my phone.
BM8: So what do you say?
Me: I’m also clean…but I try to make rubbers a rule, though sometimes it feels like a guideline lol
BM8: lol
Looking around to find Big Mike, I kept typing.
Me: Sometimes, when you take a few strokes bare…I get lost in the count 😇
Fuck I’m so horny; I just want to see Big Mike playing American Football so I can know this isn’t him; then I’ll just say fuck it and have a wank in the bushes.
BM: Yep…it happens 😉
Me: How many strokes do you need raw?
BM: To cum?
I felt my hole twitch.
Me: …mmmm…no, to get a good feel
BM: 3 or 5
Me: Or do you want the last few strokes bare before you shoot?
Our messages came and went at the same time and now I feel stupid for even putting it out there.
BM: That’d be great
BM: You wanna be bred?
Me: Yeah?
Again, our messages crossed over, and mine was supposed to be in response to “That’d be great.”
BM: Yeah
Me: I want you to enjoy fucking lol
Me: What’s best for you?
Fuck, every time I send a message, I get one in the refresh from him, and I’m not sure if it’s a swift response or a response to my previous message. Punctuation wouldn’t kill him.
BM: Last stroke I cum in you
That message was pretty clear. I looked around, but still, no Big Mike was to be found. I adjusted my hard tool under my waistband again, hoping the loose fabric of my top would cover it, but at the same time, I didn’t care if anyone saw it…I’m proud of it.
Me: Mmm…fuck, that’s hot, but should I take your load? It’s safe is it?
BM: What do you mean
BM: Where are you?
Me: I mean…is your cum safe? Should I let you breed me?
My heart was pounding as I walked toward the parking lot. The few cars in the lot were primarily parked in the front row, and a few were double-parked for no justifiable reason.
BM: Yes it is.
That period at the end of his sentence, even intoxicated, felt oddly sure to me, or perhaps my bollocks had won out, and the juices were ruining my ability to reason.
Me: Where are you?
BM: I see you, get in my truck.
My heart started pounding, and I noticed the orange running lights on an older model pickup truck in the corner of the lot. My flip-flops slapped and echoed through the quiet lot as I walked straight toward the truck I knew was owned by Big Mike.
He rolled down his window, grinned at me, “Get in fucker,” then started the engine.
I hopped in the passenger side of the truck and the truck was in gear before I closed the door. I couldn’t even get my belt on because, well, I couldn’t find it in this old truck, and he was kicking up rocks as the truck wailed and tore onto the paved street. My heart was racing the entire time. I could only glance at him, shirtless in the truck, a noticeable red glow on his once-pale skin from the sun.
We only drove for a few minutes before he pulled off the road into some service road, turning off his headlights and using only the running lights to light a path he hopefully knows well. It came to an end where a massive chain was arranged between two wood posts to let people know this was the end of the line. He stopped quickly, just short of hitting the fucking thing, and I nearly slid off the seat, which elicited a chuckle from him.
He reached over the back of the seat and pulled out a musty blanket, “grab the stuff from the glove box,” he said, opening his door.
I opened the glove box, where he stashed some paper towels, a bottle of lube, a bottle of poppers, and some rubbers. I grabbed the lube, poppers, and rubbers, then quickly hopped out of the truck to find him spreading the blanket in the back.
“Get up here,” he said, pulling the velcro fly of his boardshorts with a loud tear in the quiet wooded area, and in the glow of the moonlight and the very dim glow of the orange running lights of his truck, I saw his shorts drop to his ankles, and his massive cock sprang free. It was every bit of 8 inches and as pale as his upper thighs, with a slight curve up and veins rippling through the bottom side like an angry fist.
I climbed up, losing a flipper as I did, shucking the other as soon as I threw a leg over the mesh tailgate that seemed to replace the missing original—falling onto my hip with a thud.
He laughed, “Shit, are you ok?”
“Alright then,” I managed to mumble as he pulled me up by my underarms, and like a caveman, he placed me where he wanted me in the middle of the truck bed on his blanket. The blanket was a tidbit too thin because I could feel the hard metal of the truck underneath, but I didn’t care. He was tugging at my shorts and pulled them and my pants down in one good yank, my hard cock already drooling with pre, and fuck was I ready to explode.
“Turn on your stomach,” he instructed as he reached for the pile of stuff I dropped when I fell into his bed.
I did as I was told, listening to him shake his poppers and take a good whiff, followed by a low “mmm.”
He climbed onto my legs, reaching over me; the heat of his body radiated as he put his weight on me. I felt his cock make itself right at home between my cheeks as his massive arms reached around to feed me some poppers. He held the bottle under my nostrils, and holy fuck; these are not the Potpourri masquerading as poppers we have in London. The rush ran through my brain, and my horniness went into overdrive. I felt myself arching my ass up to stroke his cock with my small butt cheeks, grabbing it the best I could just to feel its warmth on my hole as he generously rocked his hips with mine, and the flesh met mine like two puzzle pieces fitting together nicely. We both moaned.
His weight pressed down on me, and I was only able to lift my head up so we were cheek to cheek. The bottle went under his nose, then mine again, and I held it as long as I could. I held that breath until I felt his hips slide far enough back that his leaking tip pushed right on my hole and almost punched right into my brown eye, but slipped at the last breath and slid right back through my buns, and we both moaned once again.
“Fuck, your cock feels good,” I groaned, straining to keep my head raised up to meet his.
His arms wrapped around me tighter, and he took another hit, sliding once again across my hole, then putting the poppers in my hand for me to control, and I was in heaven with whatever brand he was peddling. I took another hit as he kissed my neck, down my back, and his tongue went right into my arse.
“Oh yes, Michael, Christ, that’s it,” I nearly shouted as he immediately started digging for gold.
I don’t know if his tongue does pushups or what, but never has any bloke pushed their tongue that deep that quickly into my tight bum before, and I loved it. Using the trough of the floor panels of the truck bed combined with the softness of the blanket like a fleshlight for my thick meat to fuck, essentially fucking his truck while he ate me like an American Cherry Pie.
I was lost in lust and getting close to the edge of no return when he pulled that glorious tongue from me and replaced it with the tip of his cock. A quick squirt of lube between the two of us and I knew what was next. I took a quick but deep hit of his poppers, then another.
“Ready?” He asked as though it was a warning.
I took another hit, then another, and nodded “yes.”
Slowly his juicy cock pushed hard at my opening until it gave way, and the head stretched my ring like it was a Hoberman Sphere, magically expanding from a tiny tight hole to the incredible diameter of his bulbous cock head.
“Fuck,” I pounded a fist on the bed of the truck with a hollow echo.
“That’s right, give it up for me; we both need this,” he grumbled, pushing the next inch in.
I stretched my arms out in front of me and my legs underneath him, taking a deep breath and doing the little tricks I’ve learned to help a cock get into me quickly and not burn like the devil's staff all the way in.
“Oh yeah, you like that cock don’t you?” He bottomed out, and his legs hugged my arse, holding me tightly in place as his hands ran up my back as they came around my neck again, and his heaving chest splayed out on my back, his skin sticking to my skin, his sweat and body heat melding us together. He rocked his hips into me, one solid but deep stroke. “Your ass feels so fucking good,” he grabbed the poppers from me and took a hit, then put the bottle under my nose. He gave me another deep stroke from tip to balls, and we groaned like animals in heat. One more stroke, and he held me tight, his arms around my chest, “Fuck Gavin,” he kissed my neck with a wet slobber that made its way to a nibble on my ear. He growled low and then pulled out completely.
“Ungh,” I felt empty and unsatisfied. I planted my elbows between two of the truck bed floor panels and pushed my torso up. He was still sitting on my thighs, his cock between my cheeks as he twisted his torso at the waist to reach for something.
He came back around with a condom in hand, using his teeth to tear open the package and spit the wrapper into the air, “I got my five strokes as promised,” he grinned, then quickly rolled the condom onto his member. Another quick squirt of lube on the cock and a dollop onto my aching hole, and he promptly started pushing back in without warning.
The burning of reentry was rough. I quickly popped the poppers and took some hits.
“Again,” he insisted, and I did as I was told, feeling his cock slide out and back into me.
The rush filled my body, and he lay flat on my back, finding his rhythm. His arms wrapped around my chest, and he gently bit and then sucked on my neck as he deep dicked me with all of his manhood. Fuck, this is heaven. My dick, harder than ever, was grinding into my truck-bed-fleshlight, and I was not going to last long at all.
Clenching my hole and releasing it at just the right moments for my own pleasure seemed to be driving him wild. His big arms held me tighter, and he grunted in my ear, whispering some incoherent words that didn’t matter because his dick felt so good inside me.
“I'm close,” he warned, not skipping a beat.
“Me too, mate,” I huffed out of breath.
He pulled out quickly, I heard the condom snap off, and he thrust his cock back into me.
“Unghn…fuck,” I groaned. The precum on his cut cock head was the only lube protecting me from being ripped apart with that thrust.
“Fuck yeah,” he thrust deep into me, “the last few strokes bare right,” he grunted, holding me tight and pushing hard up into me.
I was lost in pleasure but fully cognizant of what he was referring to, his hard thrusting too much for me, and when he gripped me tighter, his cock pegged my prostate just right, and I couldn’t stop myself, “Ungh….I’m…ungh,” I grunted out as I thrust my cock into his blanket and felt a long overdue orgasm rush through my body. His next thrust forced the next shot of spunk out of me and smeared with the first in the blanket, now warm and slimy, my balls trembling in my nut sack as another spurt tore through my cock and unloaded into the blanket. My entire body tensed and clenched, my hole clenching around his cock, but he managed to continue thrusting into me with a painful pleasure that just kept my orgasm limping along.
“Ahhh,” I groaned as his thrusts got more intense and deeper than ever, his grip on my chest tighter, his chin buried in my nape, his hot breath blasting my sweaty skin.
“Ungh, here,” thrust, “it,” thrust, “comes,” he grunted and pushed his cock deep into me as I clenched my cheeks around his invading cock, and we both groaned together. I felt his massive tool twitching deep inside me as his even more enormous body shuddered on top of me and squeezed the air out of my body like a python. His boiling hot load coated my insides, and only his hips retracted and shoved deep into me once more, being sure to smear the next shot of his spunk down my entire chute and fuck it felt so good I would’ve screamed in pleasure if I could breathe, but I just let my mouth form the shape of the sound as I took pleasure in the most intense orgasm I ever felt another guy have inside me.
He collapsed on top of me like a man who had just met death. I couldn’t be sure he hadn’t passed on before he took a much-needed deep breath in and out right in the crutch of my neck, chuckling at how much pleasure he just took from my arse.
“Now I know why they call you Big Mike,” I chuckled, barely able to breathe with his dead weight on my body.
I felt him rumble out a light chuckle before doing a pushup that gently peeled our sweaty bodies apart, then he slowly pulled his now soft cock from my hole, knowing this would be the lasting impression of this night, and he didn’t want to ruin it by pulling out too fast. We both let out a subtle groan at the moment his bell end left my pucker.
“Christ,” I huffed, folding my arms under my chin as the night air hit my wet ass hole.
Big Mike gave my ass a quick smack, “Get dressed, we need to get you back before your ride starts to wonder where you are.”
I groaned dramatically, knowing he was right but also not wanting to move. My spunk thoroughly smeared up into my pubes and coating my cock, I tried to use the blanket to clean myself off, but the fabric was too harsh on my sensitive tip, so I just pulled up my pants and then the rest of my clothes.
We didn’t speak on the ride back, just subtle glances back and forth. It wasn’t as long of a ride back to the lake as it was from the lake. Nobody seemed to notice us missing. I rejoined the campfire circle, and Big Mike rejoined his mates with the American Football, which was made of foam and glowed in the dark.
The next day, I received a new message from BM8: How are you?
Me: Recovering.
BM8: 😁 👿
Comments
Brendan Gavin
Love it! Great story ❤️
