It wasn’t only beeping but it was radiating. It was a signal in red circular waves. Alfie set out to find a man who was looking for a blowjob.
He used his cellphone like a compass – holding it in the palm of his hand and pointing it in slightly varying directions, finding the strongest signal and then following it until the signal weakened or was lost altogether. The signal was picked up by his phone again after he had scanned the directions.
Sprinter’s AlleyAlfie thought it. That’s where it seems to be coming from.
It made sense. Sprinter’s Alley would be pitch dark at this hour and, as the name implied, it was easy for anyone to take off in either direction and sprint quickly out of the alley if the situation called for it. The Public Sex Administration was located not too far from Sprinter’s Alley. It was thrilling to know that you could be caught at any time. Because of the decades-long perpetual public health warnings, public sex was absolutely forbidden – punishable by maximum security isolation, where a prisoner’s every move was monitored so that he couldn’t so much as jerk-off for the duration of his sentence.
The signal was dead.
Alfie stood at the south end of Sprinter’s Alley and peered into the darkness, scanning the area with his phone for a sign of life. Maybe he’d been wrong and the signal had been coming from somewhere else.
He turned to head in a different direction, and there it was. The signal was strong enough to activate his own cellphone. He also saw the red circular waves radiating out of a cellphone half-way down the alleyway.
Alfie looked around furtively and then headed down Sprinter’s Alley. He turned off his smartphone to be safe in the event of a perverse sting. He didn’t want his phone radiating.
He tried to be casual. He tried to pretend that it was natural for him to be alone walking down an alleyway in the pitch dark at this hour of night.
“Hey,” a voice said quietly from the darkness of a doorway. “Did you get my message?”
Alfie recognized the code. It was used by all users of the app when they referred to the signal. Did you get my message?
Alfie was able to take it in stride. Alfie replied codedly, but he kept his mouth shut. “I saw that you called but I couldn’t hear what you said.”
“Good,” the voice replied almost inaudibly. What was easier for Alfie to hear was the sound of the man’s zipper going down. Alfie looked around cautiously before he fell to his knees. It was too dark for him to see much. Alfie could only see the man in front of them now. He decided to go ahead and clear the alley. He dropped to his knees.
The stranger’s cock was out of his trousers and already thick, completely stiff. Before Alfie even had the man’s cock in his mouth, he could smell the Basin District all over it. Alfie knew what the cocks smelled like from every district except for the Upper Canal District – where Alfie was from. He couldn’t tell what any of the cocks smelled like there because he was too familiar with it.
The Basin District men had cocks that smelled just like soil, grass, and fertile earth. Alfie took the hard cock in his mouth and began to chew it. He’d been face down in it – the damp earth – in the pitch-dark of a moonless night, his jeans down just enough to expose his naked ass to a Basin District man, a different public sex offender, whose spit-covered fingers had gone up Alfie’s asshole, had probed around up there, opening him, stretching him, until a spit-covered cock replaced the probing fingers and seriously opened Alfie’s ass.
Each deliberate thrust of the man’s huge cock had pushed Alfie’s face harder against the damp earth, until the living smell of the earth up his nose became indelibly entwined with the feeling of his asshole stretching around the girth of that hammering cock. It had made Alfie want to cry out – the intensity of that cock’s power; the overwhelming size of it – but cries in the night were a dead giveaway of public sex, so he hadn’t dared make a sound. He’d taken the full force of that cock with just an occasional whimper.
Those were the thoughts that filled Alfie’s head as he sucked the new cock in and out of his mouth. The Basin District smells. The power of the men’s cocks who came from there.
Alfie’s own cock was painfully hard inside his tight jeans. But he didn’t want to risk lowering his jeans there in Sprinter’s Alley and jerking off while he sucked the man’s erection. It would have been too difficult to keep track of how many times each one had to zip up quickly and leave. Instead, Alfie concentrated on sucking the cock and hoped for a way to transmit it psychically. His wet mouth, which opens wide to let the cock in, could be a promise. In some private open space. It is miles from the Public Sex Administration. Where, in Alfie’s fertile imagination, all the men were naked. Free. With hard cocks, greased assholes and an unending darkness.
Alfie found himself on his knees and felt the warmth of a thick dick from some unknown man. Alfie began to think about all the imaginary cocks in that field of night. His Asshole was their only choice. The mysterious, hard cocks would repeatedly pummel him, then open his eyes and let out their cum. Until he couldn’t imagine being more filled with it – all that sweat and salt and cum of lust.
Alfie lost in his delirium, he moaned over every cock in his mouth.
“Oh yes,” the man gasped quietly. “Oh god.” And the stranger gripped Alfie’s head firmly and pumped his cock in deep, aiming now for that spongy soft spot at the back of Alfie’s throat. Yeah, oh god, god.
Alfie knew that the man was coming. Unfortunately, it was too fast. Still, Alfie opened his throat and took that cock all the way down, until his nose was pressed flat against the man’s coarse mass of pubic hair, until all Alfie could think of was the Basin District. The sheer joy. The filthy satisfaction of having his ans so thoroughly fucked there. The cum seeping out of his burning hole that night as he’d walked the long way home.
Oh god, the man grunted repeatedly, as he held firmly to Alfie’s head, jerking sharply against Alfie’s face, his cock wedged clear down Alfie’s open throat. Alfie was able to take every drop. Every drop. Until the man abruptly pulled out of Alfie’s mouth, zipped up and, without uttering another sound, was off down Sprinter’s Alley, into the anonymous night.
Alfie slowly stood up, his eyes watery, his nose runny from the force of the man’s eruption down his throat. He washed his face with his sleeves and turned on his smartphone to check it. He looked around for any signals.
He left Sprinter’s Alley and walked back out onto the street. Soon, his phone started to pick up another signal. This one was able to send out blue waves in staccato. The man wanted to sucka cock and not have his cock sucked. Although it might work in a pinch, Alfie continued to scan the distance, looking for an orange signal. Or a green signal – a man who was looking to be on the receiving end and get a cock stuck up his own ass.
Or, best yet, a signal that was almost never sent out – Code Purple. Which meant there was a small group of men gathered in the abandoned sewer tunnel in the old Meat District, a rank end of town where only the truly depraved or truly deprived ventured, because that’s where the gangbangs happened. Below is the abandoned sewer tunnel.
Alfie had been down there once before. At the time, he’d felt lucky to survive it. Afterwards, though, he dreamed only of repeating it – of finding that rare Code Purple signal radiating on his phone once more and then finding his nerve to follow it down.
Alfie walked for awhile and then scanned the night’s signals. He didn’t really feel like having his cock sucked. He wanted more. He You are welcome Code Purple – even though it unnerved him at the same time. To be at the mercy oh so desperate, hardened men who had no other choice but to take whatever hole they wanted, shoveling their cocks in, and forcing their captive preys to cry out. Alfie felt sometimes as though he had nothing to lose.
It was impossible to imagine living in a world where public intimacy and comradery were considered acts of defiance. If caught, he could be sentenced to prison. When Alfie recalled his own prison term – three months in maximum security isolation, his every move monitored, not even allowed to touch himself – it seemed far better to go down in a rambunctious blaze of innumerable cocks and warm assholes, wet mouths and even greased-up fists…
Alfie glanced at the sudden signal emanating from his phone. Finally. An orange signal. It could have been that the night wasn’t over depending on the source of the signal.
As the signal got stronger, he continued to walk east. He was headed into the Market District, when the signal became very strong.
It looked promising. The Market District was filled with stalls and storefronts boarded at night – plenty of nooks and crannies that provided potential privacy, especially in the dark.
Alfie once more searched the darkness for an orange signal emanating from a nearby phone. There it was. The light came in through a dark doorway, behind a shuttered shop.
Alfie casually walked in that direction. Until a quiet voice said, “Hey. Did you get my message?”
And Alfie said, “I saw that you called but I couldn’t hear what you said.”
“Good,” the voice said. “There’s a stairwell here.”
Alfie’s cock lurched to life again inside his tight jeans. A stairwell. Although it would be dark and dank, it offered privacy. It would be dark and dank, but it offered privacy.
Alfie moved in the direction of that voice, and went behind the shuttered booth to meet the shadow of a man at the darkened doorway. “Down here,” the man whispered. Alfie followed him. The stranger helped Alfie descend a set of dark, sagging wooden stairs.
They did not venture further down, because there would be no exit. They only made it halfway. And the man’s voice was full of excitement when he told Alfie, hoarsely, “Turn around.”
Alfie turned around, facing the darkness of the old stairs, and he felt the man’s hands come around to the front of him and unbutton his jeans for him, unzip his zipper and then, to Alfie’s fear and delight, the man pulled Alfie’s jeans down – all the way down, passed his knees to his ankles. Alfie felt naked. This was a rare feeling that Alfie experienced.
The man’s rough fist gave Alfie’s erect cock a couple of swift tugs and it was all Alfie could do to keep from groaning out loud. Then Alfie heard the man’s zipper go down and could feel that the man’s cock was now out of his trousers, too. Clearly, the stranger was not going to join Alfie in his half-naked and vulnerable condition – only the man’s cock was out – but Alfie didn’t care. Alfie was focused on the engagement, the feel of the cock pressing against his tight backside. Warm skin against warm skin.
“Try to bend over,” the voice urged him quietly. “These stairs are rotting, but do the best you can.”
Alfie did what he was told to do: he bent over and looked for someone below him to grab. Alfie knew it was going to have to be quick, but he was going to try to sear every moment of the coming penetration – the cock-contact, the impalement – into his brain so that he could return to that slab of a bed in the silence of his cubicle and re-live what was about to happen over and over in his head, with his dick in his fist. Orange signals were not sent out often – they were dangerous.
Alfie felt the man’s large hands separate his ass cheeks; felt the man’s warm erection slide teasingly up and down the crack of his spread ass. Alfie’s asshole was exposed now in the dark, his own aching cock hanging down, swinging free. Alfie felt the warm, slick cockhead press into his stomach and push it open. Alfie gripped the sagging wooden step and grunted – he couldn’t help himself; the cockhead had pushed into him swift and deep. With sudden force, the cock had Alfie opened up all the way and, without hesitation, the man launched into the savage rhythm of fucking Alfie’s ass, until both men were hard-pressed to keep the lusty sounds of their nefarious pleasure from escaping them.
Oh godAlfie groaned deep under his breath each time the cock hit his hole. And he clutched that step, taking the full force of the man’s power without falling over. YesAlfie thought so. Oh yes!He spoke freely and in privacy. Fuck meHe thought so. just fuck me; keep fucking me. Oh god. His mind drifted back to the abandoned sewer tunnel of the Meat District. Alfie let Code Purple consume his memory, as the cock was pounding on his ass.
It had also been a cock that was hammering into his scrotum. But there’d been a cock filling his mouth – opening his throat. And another man’s mouth took Alfie’s own stiff cock all the way down at the same time… Men combining and re-combining, and then re-combining again, until every man in that sewer had emptied his cum into every kind of warm, pulsing, opening hole.
That had been a night filled with sounds – the freedom of human sounds and fearless contact. YesAlfie thought so. fuck me. Fuck me. He could sense that the man was coming, and his mind kept pushing the stranger on. Alfie’s asshole was thoroughly open now and riding the incoming cock, pushing hard against it as it pushed its way up him. Oh, fuck! Alfie thought. And the stranger came, gripping Alfie’s hips tight, emptying his load deep inside Alfie’s opened ass – jerking it out in steady spurts, making complete contact.
The man quickly pulled Alfie out of his arms and zipped the dick back into his pants. Alfie then got up and he helped him pull on his jeans. Alfie was still having a hard time with his jeans, which he managed to hide behind his zipper. After ascending the old rotting staircase in silence, they parted instantly, phones in hand. They were heading towards the street.
Marilyn Jaye Lewis has been writing professional erotica for over 30+ years. She loves almost every moment of it!