Flashed!

DJ ‘N’ Mr. Yes

DJ ‘N’ Mr. Yes

On weekends, the city’s pulse quickens in time with thundering hip-hop beats bleeding from the clubs out into the night. DJ follows the crowd, surfing from one party to the next, looking for the latest music, the trendiest clothes, the hottest bodies. He wants someone hard and tight, muscles barely sheathed by tanned skin, enough of an ass to grind up against in the dark. Someone to please him, someone to tease. Someone to take him in as far as he’ll go and beg for more.

He finds such a guy at a club downtown. Young, blond, hard abs beneath a mesh tank and arms that DJ could barely encircle with both hands. Eyes like the ice in whatever it is he’s drinking, and lips he licks wet when he sees DJ looking. The music moves him closer, each bump of his hips cranking DJ’s lust up another notch, until he’s rubbing his groin against DJ’s in welcome. His eyes ask that eternal question: “Where?”

DJ leads the way to the bathroom. In a cramped stall, DJ’s hands smooth up under the mesh tank, his tongue circling around pert n*****s until the guy moans, “Yes.”

DJ works his way into those painted-on jeans, finds a thick erection and thumbs behind it, earning him another “Yes.”

A damp mouth on his, legs spread at his touch, hands fisted in his shirt when he raises those knees to ease inside that puckered hole, yes.

Hot breath in his ear, barely audible here, yes.

DJ pierces into him with rough thrusts, f***s into the warm, willing ass again and again. The skin that sheathes his c**k shudders with the music, a fevered heartbeat that races into the night. Yes, and yes, and yes, until they both come in a sticky, heated rush.

Yes.