The guy standing by himself across the crowded living room looked familiar.

Granted, I was at a party full of kids I went to high school with, so everyone looked familiar--but him, I couldn't quite place.

I'd first spotted his lone figure between clusters of people drinking, talking, dancing; taking advantage of the hectic atmosphere, I studied him more closely from over the rim of my cup.

He was tall and skinny, but lean rather than lanky; whatever manual labor job he'd most likely acquired after graduation--like half the men in our small town--had already begun to show in his arms.

An unruly mop of dark pin-straight hair was smushed beneath the camo cap that completed his outfit of faded blue jeans, brown boots, and a plain white t-shirt.

My gaze settled on the long fingers of his big tan hands gripping a beer bottle, and I intuitively knew he was packing some serious heat between those legs.

His face wasn't anything special; he had too big a nose and chapped, parted lips--a mouth breather, evidently--to be considered attractive.

The peach fuzz dotting his upper lip and chin told me how young he was, and I suddenly recalled his name was Hunter after finally realizing where we knew each other from.

We shared the same speech and debate class my senior year. That would make him about nineteen now, since he was two grades below me then.

Curiosity finally satisfied, I turned back toward my friends. But for some reason, I found myself stealing glances at him throughout the night.

Hunter didn't seem to know many people at the party; not well enough to integrate himself into a group, anyway.

The types of middle-class, college-minded students in attendance--myself included--were never the kids he used to hang with, making his solo presence here that much more baffling.

He kept trying to hit on girls, some of whom politely indulged him for a bit while others flatly rejected his attempts.

I felt a twinge of sympathy for him; Hunter was always pretty taciturn in class, and it couldn't be easy getting turned down constantly.

This was seemingly confirmed by the look on his face, slowly morphing from mild embarrassment to overt frustration the longer the night wore on--and the more alcohol he drank.

Eventually, I lost track of Hunter, pulled away by friends who wanted me to dance with them, and I didn't see him again until the party had died down, when a good amount of people were already gone.

I stood alone in an archway connecting the kitchen to a darkened hall, watching with some amusement as my friend Lacy flirted with a guy she'd been making eyes at for the past few hours.

The sound of a door banging open behind me caught my attention, and I turned to see someone stumble out of a nearby bathroom.

In the faint reaching light from the kitchen, it took me a second to place the dark shadow moving closer, and my eyebrows rose when I could finally see who it was.

Hunter was clearly drunk; his glassy, bloodshot eyes seemed to size me up as he drew close, and as if finally settling something, he posted up against the wall.

"Sup," he slurred in a thick Southern twang.

"Hey," I tossed back. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, just this lame ass party."

"Not having fun?"

"Psh, no," he mumbled bitterly.

A brief silence ensued, and I eyed him out of my periphery.

Up close, I could see a couple faint dark smudges across his t-shirt, and there was a bit of grime around the nails of his calloused fingers.

A strong, musky odor clung to him, sweat and something else--motor oil, perhaps?

I wondered if he'd come here straight from work.

It was Friday, after all, and like me, most of the other college kids here probably didn't have a summer job.

Curious as to why he was still standing here, I cleared my throat and began to speak.

"It's Hunter, right? I think we had a class together my--"

"Yeah, I remember," he cut me off abruptly.

"O...kay," I murmured.

"There a reason you been staring at me all night?"

I felt my hackles rise; clearly I hadn't been as discreet as I'd thought, and immediately attempted to defuse the situation.

"Oh, I just noticed you is all." I was careful to keep my tone casual. "You seemed to have some bad luck, you know, striking out with those girls."

That seemed to mollify him somewhat, and Hunter turned his surly face away.

"Stuck up bitches," he sniffed.

I winced slightly, once again feeling sympathetic, and was trying to formulate an appropriate response when Hunter turned back to me.

"You a queer?"

His tone wasn't hostile, just bluntly curious, but I still tensed nonetheless.

In the few seconds of silence that followed, I eyed him warily, debating how to respond.

Eventually, I crossed both arms, lifted my chin a fraction, and looked him dead in the eyes.

"Yeah, I'm gay," I answered casually.

For a long moment, I stared at him, waiting, wondering what his reaction would be, anticipating it to be negative.

But there was nothing that could have prepared me for what came out of Hunter's mouth next.

"You wanna suck my dick?"

I blinked several times, trying to process what he'd just so blatantly asked, while he continued on.

"These bitches keep blue-balling me, and I need to nut."

There was a touch of venom in his voice as he mentioned the girls who kept turning him down.

But the aggressive conviction when he spat out the need to empty his balls aroused me.

Despite his mediocre looks, I was actually attracted to Hunter, and bounced back and forth on whether or not to take him up on his offer, unsure if it was genuine or a far-fetched attempt to screw with me.

Hunter, however, was impatient.

"Come on, man. I ain't got all night, you want some of this or not?" he sneered, squeezing his junk.

My gaze instantly dropped to what was clearly a large cock bulging from within his jeans.

I grew fully hard at the idea of getting on my knees and submitting to this drunken, domineering, trashy, big-dicked redneck teenager.

"Yeah, okay," I told him with the same casual tone from earlier.

"Great," he answered flatly.

I looked around. "Where do you--"

"Out back," he interrupted, already heading down the dark hallway.

I quickly followed, stopping only briefly to glance back at Lacy, who hadn't acknowledged me since she began talking to that guy.

Hunter disappeared out a door that led to the barely lit side yard, and I hustled after him until the two of us were huddled close together behind the house.

He glanced around, checking that we were alone and not so easily spotted; no one was outside, and some large nearby shrubs provided the perfect barrier.

Satisfied, he began to unbuckle his belt, leveling me with an indignantly lustful look.

Hunter opened his fly, and I could see the shitty Hanes boxer briefs he wore tenting obscenely.

My eyes widened when he extracted a large cock--hard, throbbing, and red with anger.

His pubes were surprisingly well-trimmed, and I glimpsed an equally large pair of balls hanging low from weightiness.

"You gonna keep staring, or get on this?" he pumped his cock, practically baring his teeth at me.

I quickly sank to my knees, completely erect and shaking with anticipation.

Hunter stepped forward and pressed the thick knob of his hardon to my lips.

I opened up, and he pushed inside, sighing heavily as my warm, wet mouth enveloped him.

Hunter's manhood tasted salty from the sweat of his humid crotch, the pungent stench overwhelming my nostrils.

He hadn't showered in a while, and getting to clean him off made me groan with pleasure, so I sucked greedily on his impressive tool.

Swallowing him repeatedly, I moved up and down the length of his long, meaty shaft, moaning like the hungry slut I was.

I secretly lusted after guys like Hunter: skeezy rednecks, young and hung, with an unearned attitude demanding their sexual needs be served, despite how unattractive they were.

I would lay down naked in the dirt just to let him ride my ass as long and hard as he wanted, all while begging to be bred like a filthy sow.

But instead, I settled for eagerly devouring all eight inches of him, milking his arrogant prick for the overdue load he was sure to blow down my thirsty throat.

Hunter grunted as he rushed to pull his pants and underwear down further, until they rested just below his bare ass.

Then, after widening his stance, he braced a hand again the wall, took a fistful of hair to keep my head in place, and began to skull-fuck the life out of me.

Hunter was angry--angry and frustrated at being denied something he felt was owed to him.

So he took it out on my mouth, stuffing his cock down my throat with the type of rough energy that told me he didn't care who I was or how I felt.

He just needed a hole to cum inside.

And I was more than willing to be that hole.

I opened my lips wider, relaxed my throat muscles, and felt Hunter push as far inside as he could go.

"Ugh, fuck yeah," he muttered.

I could hear the callous smirk in his voice.

When he began to pump faster, I groaned in response. His fat nuts slapped repeatedly against my chin, and soon they were soaked from the saliva leaking from my mouth.

The air around us filled with the varied noises of a sloppy, vengeful face-fuck: Hunter's exasperated grunts, the clanking of his dangling belt, the wet sloshing from him pummeling my mouth, and my subsequent muffled moans that steadily became involuntary gags.

Hunter chuckled humorlessly, and there was a gruff, almost sinister quality to his voice when he rumbled, "Yeah, choke on my dick, you fucking faggot."

I could barely manage to groan in between gagging, and grasped Hunter's tight little ass with both hands, squeezing and fondling his fuzzy cheeks.

He shivered, then began to buck harder, unmistakably turned on; whether from having his ass groped or from how much I was enjoying his rough treatment, it wasn't clear.

Although I had a good idea once he began degrading me further.

"Stupid, limp-wrist fairy," Hunter grunted, "on your knees in the dirt, sucking cock like a whore."

I thought my eyes would roll to the back of my skull.

"You wanna stare at me all night?" he huffed. "Huh? Then this is what you get, you dirty bitch--a throat full of my big dick."

His breathing was heavy now, on the verge of gasping from so much exertion.

That did nothing to slow his intractable thrusts, or his vile words; firing on all cylinders as he was, I knew it wouldn't be long before his babies were defiling my stomach.

"This is all you faggots are good for, taking cock from a real man like me."

My dick threatened to burst from my shorts; that's how hard I was.

I wanted his load. I was desperate for it.

And I was gonna swallow every last drop, if only to savor the taste and texture of his potent seed.

Hunter kept his pace, mercilessly pounding my mouth and throat, which I knew would be sore come morning.

His hateful slurs steadily devolved into choked groans and terse grunts; I could tell he was on the verge of cumming, and recklessly decided to push him over the edge.

Reaching down, I began to play with Hunter's heavy sack, tugging gently between firm clasps.

He let out an unsteady breath, and I seized the moment.

Using the hand still holding his ass, I slid a single finger down the center of his furry crack, tracing a smooth line before gently teasing the puckered hole exposed from each cheek clenching and unclenching with every thrust.

Hunter gasped, shuddered violently, then pushed all the way into my mouth and held completely still, unloading his overly full balls.

"Ohhhhhh fuuuuuuuck," he moaned.

His cock throbbed vigorously against my lips and tongue; I could even feel his nuts contracting over and over against my chin as they pumped seed out.

I groaned, swallowing hungrily.

Hunter's cum was thick, plentiful, and saltier than his cock had been. Creamy spurts splattered across my tongue, and I pulled back slightly to catch more of it, moaning involuntarily.

He gave several shallow thrusts, and I started nursing him, gently suckling the rest of the teenage baby batter still spewing out.

What a fat fucking load it was too.

Not only could I tell it'd been a while since Hunter had busted, but he sorely needed to as well.

Hunter uttered a long, husky groan as he finished cumming down my throat, which felt lined with residual sperm.

His half-hard cock popped when he pulled it from between my puckered lips, and I resisted the urge to take him back into my mouth to continue sucking, like a bratty toddler demanding his binky.

Instead, I eased back, out of breath, while Hunter quickly stuffed his dick away.

He didn't acknowledge me, didn't speak or even so much as look in my direction.

I'd done what he'd needed me to--offered myself as an object for him to use--and now I didn't exist.

So, he pulled up his zipper, belted his jeans, and promptly disappeared, breezing back the way we'd come.

And then I was alone with the fresh memory of having blown him.

Well that and my raging hardon.

I rose, fished my cock out, and furiously jerked off, cumming all over the spot in the dirt I'd just been kneeling in less than two minutes prior.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd cum so hard.

Back inside, I slipped into the kitchen, curious if I'd spot Hunter still lurking around somewhere, but he'd simply vanished, and I honestly wasn't surprised, just a bit disappointed.

"There you are, Adam!"

Lacy rushed up, looking relieved. "Where the hell did you go?"

I shrugged. "Bathroom."

She narrowed her eyes at the stains on my jeans. "Uh-huh."

I gave her a sheepish grin, and she just rolled her eyes, albeit with a smile on her face.

I didn't see Hunter again that summer, or the summer after, and the abrupt ending to our unexpected encounter left me wondering about him.

Was he gay or bi? Had he messed around with guys before or was I his first? Would he have fucked me if I offered?

Would he let me fuck him if I tried?

I kept thinking about the way he shuddered when I teased his hole, how hard he subsequently came.

The notion of breeding his tight little country ass was almost as appealing as him breeding my suburban one.

Almost.

Still, despite time passing, Hunter and my unanswered questions about him occasionally popped into my mind, and I eventually grew content that they would never be answered.

Until I ran into him at a bar almost two years later, that is.