“RING”

Damned, that doorbell would rattle the dead! Did me, sound asleep as I was. 9:30 p.m. That is what you get for going to sleep so early on Sunday night: pounding heartbeat, bolting upright in the bed, and wondering—for that brief second—just where you are.

It’s not that I am entirely surprised at the intrusion; my doorbell rings almost every Sunday night at the same time. Usually, it’s the same person.

Walking naked from the bedroom, my eyes squint as I first head into the kitchen and the refrigerator to retrieve a frozen bottle of poppers. The familiar squish and pop of the top sounds too loud in the dark quiet of my apartment. A quick snort arouses both my mind and my mushroom-headed cock.

At the door, I lean down to peer out the peephole. It’s him all right. Beef. That’s not what I call him, but that’s what he is. At 5’10” 220, he’s a beefy, muscular slab of meat. Add a leather-trussed and fat six inches of sausage between his legs, and the name “beef” becomes him.

Not only do I know what Beef looks like, since he rings the bell most every Sunday night, but I also can see it all right now. His face a throbbing, blushing beet from his poppers, Beef has thrown himself up against the wall opposite my door, so I can take in all of him. He’s stripped and hard, lips open, tongue licking them, jacking his sausage. I always wonder just where his clothes really are.

The double locks on the solid metal door seem to make a mighty racket as I unlatch them both. Always striving to make Beef’s effort worth his while, I swing open the door and step right into its frame, striking what I hope is an equally provocative and pre cum-inducing pose as has he. My eight-inch hot dog is red with pounding blood through every popper-filled vein. We look into each other’s dilated and ravenous eyes.

“I want to fucking go all over this town tonight,” Beef leers. “We have to get nasty.”

“Yeah? How?”

“The streets are swarming with guys,” he intoned, his voice musty with poppers. “Walked up here from my car stripped and pulling on my cock.”

Walking up “here” is from street parking then through a lobby, up either an elevator or a stairwell, then down a long hallway to my apartment door.

“Want to just go back out and cruise? See whom we might find to play? What?”

With that, Beef turned around then bent forward and grabbed his ankles, splaying open his broad muscled hindquarters; that delicious looking pink center visibly pulsing open and closed. I dropped to my knees, drew a huge