The Porch Visitor

The whiskey and gummy had me buzzed good. The air was thick and hot. I was face down, forehead on the deck, my ass up in the air. The only thing I had on was a jockstrap, leaving my hole completely exposed. That was the whole point. My fuck buddies knew the rules: show up between nine and one, find me like this, and use my ass. It was my thing, my perfect setup, hidden from the street by the bushes.
Then I heard them. A couple, yelling their fucking heads off. They got closer and closer until they were right in front of my house, standing in the street and screaming at each other. I could feel my night going down the drain. My ass was ready for cock, and this bullshit argument was scaring them all away. Nobody wants to walk into a domestic dispute just to get a piece of ass. These two were ruining everything.
Frustration boiled in my gut. I’d been waiting, my hole twitching in anticipation, and now these two were cock-blocking me with their domestic bullshit. I pushed myself up, the world tilting slightly. Fuck it. I stalked to the edge of the porch steps, my body a pale silhouette in the dim light from the streetlamp. "Hey!" I yelled, my voice rougher than I intended. "Could you two fucking take this somewhere else? Some of us are trying to get laid here!"
The woman whipped her head around, her face a mask of fury. "Fuck you, you pervert!" she screamed, before turning on her heel and storming off down the street, her heels clicking angrily on the pavement.
Great. One problem solved. But the guy, a tall, broad-shouldered Black man in a tank top, just stood there, his glare now fixed on me. "The fuck did you just say to me?" he growled, taking a step toward my stairs. He looked like he was ready to put me through the fucking wall. His fists were clenched, and the muscles in his arms were tight. This wasn't just some loudmouth; this was a guy who was used to throwing his weight around.
We went back and forth, a stupid, pissing-match argument. He was pissed, I was pissed and high, and it was going nowhere. I realized my fuck-buddy night was completely derailed unless I could get rid of this guy. I took a breath, trying to recalibrate. "Look, man, I'm sorry," I said, my tone shifting. "I'm just... fucked up. Didn't mean to start shit."
He eyed me up and down, his anger slowly being replaced by a different kind of curiosity. His gaze lingered on my nearly naked body, taking in the jockstrap, my exposed ass, the whole fucked-up scene. "What the fuck are you wearing, dude?" he finally asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
"A jockstrap," I said, a defiant buzz still humming through me.
"And why the hell are you wearing just that out here on your porch?"
The whiskey and the gummy had completely stripped my filters. I gave a humorless, fucked-up laugh. "Because I'm waiting for my friends to come over and fuck me. I've got my ass lubed up and ready for a train, and you two are scaring them all off." I didn't care anymore. The night was ruined, so I might as well be honest. I looked him dead in the eye. "I'm a cumdump, man. It's what I do."
His eyes went wide for a second, then a slow, predatory grin spread across his face. "You gay?"
"I like getting fucked by dudes, yeah," I shot back. "Doesn't matter what label you put on it."
He didn't say another word. He just bounded up the stairs, his movements confident and aggressive. He stopped right in front of me, his crotch level with my face. "Well," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I'll feed you my dick."
He didn't wait for an answer. He fumbled with his jeans, yanking them down just enough to free his cock. It was thick, heavy, and already getting hard, the dark skin contrasting sharply with the pale light of the porch. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and guided my head down, pushing the head of his dick past my lips. I opened up, tasting the salty skin of his shaft as he slid deeper, fucking my mouth with slow, deliberate strokes. He wasn't gentle, and I didn't want him to be. I wanted him to use me, to take out his frustration on my throat. He started forcing it deeper, making me gag, my eyes watering as he hit the back of my throat. "That's it, faggot, take it," he grunted, holding my head in place while he pumped his hips, fucking my face like it was a cheap cunt. Spit and pre-cum dribbled down my chin, and I just took it, my own cock rock hard in my jockstrap from the pure degradation of it all.
After a few minutes, he pulled out, a string of spit connecting my lips to the tip of his cock. "Turn around," he commanded. "Show me that ass."
I spun around, bracing my hands against the porch railing, presenting my ass to him just as I had for my intended guests. He grabbed the straps of my jock, pulling them tight against my hole before yanking them aside. I heard him spit, and then a moment later, the thick, blunt head of his cock was pressing against my entrance.
He pushed in with one hard, relentless thrust, burying himself balls-deep inside me. I cried out, a mix of pain and pure, unadulterated pleasure. He was big, and he was taking what he wanted. He started fucking me, hard and deep, his hips slapping against my ass with a rhythm that shook the whole porch. He grunted with each thrust, calling me a "faggot" and a "cock-whore," and every filthy word just made me burn hotter. He grabbed my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh, using them as leverage to slam into me even harder. "You like this big dick, you fucking slut?" he growled, punctuating the question with a particularly vicious thrust that made me see stars. The porch was creaking, my knees were getting scraped raw on the wood, and I didn't give a single fuck. This was better than I had planned. This was real.
All I could think, as he pounded my ass into submission under the stars, was that his girlfriend had no fucking clue what she was missing. This man wasn't just angry; he was a force of nature, a primal energy that was now claiming my body. He reached around and grabbed my own dick, which was leaking all over the porch floor, and started jerking me off in time with his powerful thrusts. It didn't take long. The combination of his dick in my ass, his hand on my cock, and the sheer, taboo thrill of it all sent me over the edge. I came hard, painting the worn wood with my load.
My ass clenched around him, and he let out a deep guttural groan, slamming into me one last time as he emptied himself deep inside my guts. He stayed there for a moment, his weight heavy on my back, his cock still twitching inside me. Then he pulled out, tucked himself away, and without a word, walked back down the stairs and disappeared into the night.
I stayed there, face down, ass up, his cum dripping out of my hole, a filthy, satisfied mess. My planned orgy had been a bust, but the night had turned out to be so much better. One angry, alpha dick had just done the work of three or four of my regular guys. My hole was throbbing, used, and full of a stranger's load. The night air felt cool against my wrecked ass, and I just lay there, basking in the filth of it all, hoping the next guy to walk by was just as pissed off.