By the fourth chilly treat, I began to settle in and enjoy the ride. Receiving each new Popsicle was like experiencing the sensation for the first time. My inner walls were stunned with each gnawing invasion.
As Popsicle number five was being consumed, I realized I wasn’t even there anymore. It was just my handyman and his pretty pink pucker, as he was now calling it: “his fucking hungry pretty pink pucker.” In my temporary blindness, I was completely removed from my body, shut off from the world, willing to give him time alone with my ass. In between Popsicles, he’d smother the cheeks in kisses, lick and suck sticky sweet cherry juice off of balls and butt, dig his face into crack and lap the red goo from hole and hair.
By Popsicle number six, handyman’s face practically got stuck in between the cheeks as he drowned in cherry juice, which created a temporary glue between his sharp whiskers and his pretty pink pucker’s surrounding coat of fur.
Finally, he hit the bottom of the box. Eight Popsicles had been consumed. The hole was a dripping mess yet totally unsatisfied. Ass flesh was still hot. Cock and balls wanted to expel the build-up like nobody’s business. The pucker was sure it was not going to be able to hold back the torrent of liquid that wanted to gush forth, but the handyman stopped it up quick. His rod was bigger than any Popsicle the pucker had yet encountered.
I was back, reattached spiritually to my pucker again. I cried out in rhythm to the pounding I was getting. Cherry juice spilled freely from my aching fuck slit as handyman’s cock dipped repeatedly into the pool it had become. The built-up pressure inside was steadily relieved as he screwed the juice out of me: juice that refused to be forced deeper into me, leaking out from all sides of his jack hammering cock instead. My pucker was slobbering all over itself. The handyman was hell-bent on torturing my swollen ass. He would tickle it ever so gently with his fingers as he rammed deep inside me and then follow that with unmerciful open-handed slaps. My fist wanted so badly to grab my cock and beat the jizz out of it.
The coffee table I was tied to and stuck under seemed ready to collapse as it was shaken by the handyman’s weight. It creaked and groaned as loud as I was as he came down on it with his stomach, pumping down onto my upraised ass. His bulging thighs ricocheted repeatedly off my butt, driving me into the floor while a mess of gooey liquid attempted to paste our flesh together.
The handyman vacated me and ripped off my blindfold. I could now see that he was standing in front of me. He yanked off his condom and tossed it across the room, then leaned over and undid one of my wrists. Without hesitation, my hand went for my cock. I began tugging furiously on it while handyman did the same to his cock, which was poised before my upraised face. I did my best to lap at his dick and balls as he reached over the table and dug two, then three, and unbelievably, four fingers of his other hand up my ass. His fists seemed unable to distinguish which was doing what job, so both worked briskly. He slapped away at his cock while nearly his entire hand gave my asshole—and particularly my prostate—an agonizingly deep tissue massage.
I thought I was going to bust a gut as I came. His cock was smacking me inadvertently across the face as I burst forth with a stream that had my asshole clamping down on his fingers. I thought this finally reminded him that this was a person’s asshole he was tearing away at because his hand stopped. But it was actually because he was distracted.
My eye got the first gusher, then his hot cum streaked across my face, covering my lips, clogging one of my nostrils. He screamed out expletives in sync with his expulsion.
When at last we were both finished, each of us panting, me with my throat sore and hoarse from so much guttural expression, he dropped onto his back on the sofa bed and blindly reached to undo my other bound wrist. I crawled out stiffly from under the table and used a nearby remnant of my jeans to swipe most of the cum from my eyes, nose, mouth, and cheeks.
I dropped face first onto his chest, completely spent, and breathed in his now pungent sweat as I took a ride on his heaving pecs. At last, I found the energy to look up at him. He looked down wordlessly at me.
“You’re a fucking bastard!” I griped.
And there was that charming slight smile at the corner of his mouth. “It was all in Good Humor.”
He brought his face toward mine and began sucking some remnants of his cum off my bottom lip.
All the Way in…At Last
Stepping out of the shower after the gym had already shut its doors for the night, I was sure the owner Greg was going to beat my ass for running late (as usual) and being the lone guy still there after closing. But then I heard a grunting sound coming from the weight room. Without even wrapping a towel around my waist, I went to check out who could possibly be there later than me. Okay. I was actually imagining the grunts having to do with some sort of sexual escapades, and I wanted to be undressed for the occasion.
Pay dirt! I was greeted by two huge thighs and calves in midair on a workout bench, with hair-coated ass and balls on display between them. Rising from the center was a bulging cock, which was being casually stroked. Behind that, over the peaks that were pecs covered in a thick layer of black and white hair, was the face of Greg, the owner of the gym…who I’d always assumed was straight. He looked directly at me and a thought flashed through my head: Why did I waste so much time not fantasizing that there was a chance in hell this would ever happen?
I strolled over to him with just as much bravado—sort of an “I knew you’d eventually admit how much you want me” walk. My knockwurst plump eleven-incher, which terrified even size-queens—the reason I had yet to ever feel my balls slapping flush up against another guy’s ass, and the reason why the only screams ever coming from my bedroom proved that the fine line between pleasure and pain can be crossed—was already at attention. Greg swiftly dropped his legs, rose from the bench, and met me face-to-face. Our lips smashed together and his arms engulfed me. All I could think was, fuck, he’s big and I’m most likely screwed. As in…bottoming.
His tongue entered my mouth and explored my gums. It felt so damn hot, but even hotter was the harsh burning sensation as his goatee scrubbed my lips raw. My muscles, fresh with post-pumping adrenaline, were stimulated by his bristly body. He lifted me in his arms and up onto a bar suspended at eye level on the squat machine. I grabbed the supports at either end of the stand as the bar found a niche at the back of my knees. I felt a cool draft against my pucker and ball sack as my butt dangled in midair and my dick weighed heavily between my thighs.
“You’ve got a beautiful fucking ass!” Greg growled. His massive hands landed on either of my cheeks, spreading them open.
“Oh fuck!” I barked as he crammed his face into my crack. The taut skin surrounding my hole was attacked by his sharp whiskers as his tongue targeted my slit. The combination of abrasion and moist softness was incredible. I groaned gutturally, letting my ass fall down harder on his upraised face as he stood beneath me. My mind was screaming at me, “Hey, me! I got my fucking ass on Greg’s face!”
Greg made slobbering noises as he munched, digging his chin into my crack and rubbing it against the insides of my ass cheeks like sandpaper. My nerves were completely alive back there and my whole body began to shiver spastically. I thought I was about to become too weak to hold myself up but I knew that if he had to, Greg could keep me in place with just his tongue. I went with it, my tight hole pulsing in shock at the onslaught. I sensed he was aching to get in me. I could feel his saliva glistening on the strands of my crack hair as if prepping me for the inevitable.
It wasn’t long before Greg began to probe the area around my slit with a finger. My body tensed.
“Don’t worry. This’ll be nice and easy,” he said. He passed under me until he was in front of me. He showed me his index finger (which looked so fucking big since I knew where he intended to put it, making me wonder what all those guys thought about my prick when they saw it) then drooled on it until it was drowned in spit. He took my dense cock, which was swinging underneath the bar,
into his mouth. I watched in disbelief as my huge, swollen, purple monster disappeared between those hair-surrounded lips. Although he slowed down a few times to catch his breath and a tear sprang to his eyes as he gagged a bit, Greg’s lips were soon overlapping the base of my cock. His mouth cavern was steaming wet.
He must have noticed the tension leak from me because his slick, coated index finger didn’t hesitate. With one quick upward movement, it entered my butt tunnel.
“Oh, jeeezz!” I barked. The invasion was quite smooth, but my unprepared sphincter muscle clamped down on Greg’s finger joint. He had me where he wanted me: literally wrapped around his finger.
Greg moved his face forward and backward as his mouth took a ride on my cock. At last, my dick was experiencing the total sensation of penetration. I had no idea where the hell he was hiding all that dick and hoped he didn’t puncture a lung doing so, but it was too unbelievable a feeling for me to be too concerned about his comfort. My balls banged against his chin. My knockwurst throbbed continuously, spilling precum down his esophagus. The tip of his index finger poked away at my chute, majorly massaging my tunnel walls as it wiggled inside me. I decided it was so worth the torture Greg was going to put my ass through. I thought I was going to explode and I said so.
Greg denied me of my pleasure but had a tough time withdrawing his finger from my ass seal. When it finally yielded he said, “Virgin ass.”
“Well, I’m not a bot—” I began, but he didn’t wait for my explanation. He disappeared underneath me, then told me to drop backward. I put all my trust in him (but my stomach still screamed in terror) and let go of the stand. My body fell, my knees spinning on the axis of the bar like I was a gymnast. Greg caught me in his arms and placed me on my feet.
I steadied myself and regained my equilibrium before turning around.
On display on the workout bench was the biggest, roundest ass I’d ever seen in my life. Two watermelon-sized mounds rose into the air, with two log-sized thighs supporting them. Greg’s raging erection and ball sack swayed like a fuzzy pendulum between them. The layer of black and white hair on either of his massive buttocks spun in symmetrical circles, reaching toward his huge ass slot like fingers.
“You like that ass?” Greg asked over his shoulder.
“Fuck, yeah!”
“Show me, big boy,” he said.
I got down on my knees like a kid with a new toy. I rubbed his swelling glutes and he jiggled his ass in response, making every curve dance. I taunted him, kissing and licking each cheek, following the pattern of man-hair toward the center. I brought both hands down extremely hard. There was an echoing smash in the empty gym and two bright red handprints appeared, looking quite small on the vast surface area of his watermelon mounds.
“Eat me, please,” he actually begged.
Tossing the fruit salad, I thought as I took in those melon mounds. I grabbed his inner ass cheeks with each thumb, revealing the treasure hidden behind his graying forest. I beheld the hot mess that was his experienced fuck hole. It lacked the smooth, untouched look of my usual twenty-something hook-ups. The skin around Greg’s slot was wrinkled and worn, like it had seen plenty of action. It no longer retained that bright, pink, virginal color, but had aged into a deep, luscious purple. It reached inward as a result of permanent concave damage.
Greg expertly used his anal muscles to push his hole outward, creating a flat surface with a large canal in its center. I delved in, feasting on the musky taste. His valley engulfed my face, his rock-ssolid butt muscles squeezing against the sides of my head as his ass bush tickled my cheeks, nose, lips, and chin. My teeth sank into the loose tender opening that he could turn into concrete at will. But he didn’t. He let his entrance gape open for me as his natural juices mixed with mine. I sucked the loose flesh in with my mouth while pushing my tongue out and as far up as it would go. When I finally surfaced for air, separating from him with a resounding, sloppy pop, I kept his crack pried apart. His fuck tunnel, glistening with spit, had completely dilated.
“Plow me,” he gasped.
“Say what?” I asked foolishly simply because I was so taken off guard by the request.
“Cram it in me, man,” he said urgently.
I’d always had to use about half a bottle of lube with the guys I had half-penetrated in the past, but I trusted that Greg knew his own body enough to make the call on whether or not he could take it. I salivated on my hand, painted my knockwurst with it, and then lined up the head with his glorious manhole. I told myself to go slow, but my anxiety took over and my thrust was uncontrolled. I was such an inexperienced virgin at heart.
It was like dipping into sweet molasses. Greg’s innards oozed around my club and only the last few inches fought against me.
“UUuughhh!” Greg grunted. “Make me take it all!”
I forced my way in, Greg cried out, and then we both exhaled in ecstasy.
“Fuck, you got a fuckin’ horse cock!” Greg said. “Ride my ass hard!”
I withdrew my complete excitement and then slipped back into him slowly so I could enjoy the feel of his ass hairs tickling my shaft and the parting of his way as I reentered. He let out a long, throaty moan that was like a musical invitation.
“Plunge it into my guts good.” His voice wavered and I could envision the sweat breaking out on his forehead.
I pounded into him repeatedly, savoring my first real fuck with a silent, giddy giggle at the concept of this huge specimen of man bouncing off my cock and whimpering. He was crying out for more, his voice rising about two octaves as my balls continuously slapped against his, and I realized he was hyperventilating as I set him off way up inside. His fuck hole, conditioned to so much action, must have become desensitized over the years. My knockwurst was just the thing to bring the memories flooding back as it awoke nerves that he didn’t even know he had in him.
Once he got a hold of himself, he began to massage my cock from the inside, tightening and loosening his sphincter in time with my motion. Apparently, his outer muscles weren’t the only ones that had been through years of training—he must have been working out with dumbbell-shaped dildos for decades. He put my cock through the wringer, and my eyes got hard-ons of their own as they bulged from their sockets. I lifted up on my powerful legs and attacked him from above, pouncing on his huge tush. I took in the mountains that were his deltoids and grabbed a hold of his short salt n’ pepper hair. He looked over his shoulder and arched his back more. I leaned over him to get a taste of his mouth again. I knew he could support my weight, so I wrapped my arms around him and lay down on his shaggy back as we made out. My fingers found his silver dollar nipples, which were hard as marble, and I plucked and tugged at them. It was like a chain reaction. My cock was suddenly in a vise as Greg’s fuck tunnel responded to the tit attack.
He did a one-handed push-up, carrying our combined weight, and reached between his legs to stroke himself off. Our lips didn’t part as he grunted out his passion, exhaling into my open mouth in short spurts, following the lead of each of his expulsions.
My fingers got tangled in a carpet of hair as I grabbed a hold of his pecs, hugging him tighter so I could lift my pelvis and withdraw from him. My meat fell from his hole, brushed over his hairy perineum, and lined up perfectly with the bottom of his balls and cock as my spunk shot forth furiously, unsolicited. I felt his hand clasp my dick head as he caught my juice. When my cock had emptied itself of its own accord, he brought the pool in his palm to his mouth, sucked it in, and then craned his neck to pass my cum on to me. The perfect blend of my man juice and his saliva slipped smoothly down my throat. You know the hotness of the snowball only has a short few-second lifespan after you’ve cum and your sex drive dies a temporary death, after which the act is rendered completely vile. The cum had hit my gullet just under the wire.
“You never told me you were gay,” I commented as we pulled apart.
“I keep my pie hole shut about that,” Greg said. “But my corn hole never knows wh
en to shut up.”
Gay Man Whore On Campus
The guys had created a gay man whore monster when they’d introduced Aaron to sex. And they took complete advantage of it, although no one came out a loser, because Aaron was having a helluva lot of fun being their “man whore.” Sure, nicknames like Abercrombie and Down-Low were used in one-on-one situations, but when they were hanging in a group and things got hot, everyone endearingly called him Man Whore. It was a name he earned quickly.
That first Christmas ski trip really broke down the walls of taboos for Rocky, Chul, Justin, and even Lonny, who became much more comfortable with other male-on-male acts with Aaron besides fucking him in the ass. Indeed, it was Lonny who often provoked the cocksucking and ass eating, with Aaron always being the consummate consumer. Nothing happened between him and the guys unless they were all in the group together—it was like an unspoken rule that it wasn’t gay if they all gangbanged him at once. Partnering up with him alone would be crossing the line…
Very often, they played it all off like a joke or instigated things by daring Aaron to do one thing or another. For instance, if it was just the five of them in the shower room, they’d cram into one stall and dare him to suck all their cocks. Even if they weren’t hard initially, Aaron would soon fix that. It also became a challenge to see how many hard cocks they could jam in his mouth at one time, which made for some incredibly interesting positions on his and Rocky’s bunk bed—not to mention required straight cocks to come in full contact with each other. Aaron was eventually able to stretch his lips enough to get all four of their dick heads in at once. Then they would play a game sort of like at the carnival, but instead of shooting water into a clown’s mouth, they were shooting their cum, and the goal was to see who could stand farthest away from Aaron’s waiting mouth and get it right in. Chul took the trophy on that one. He was the long-distance champ. The playing field was more level when they simply played the “who can cum in the man whore’s mouth first” game. They’d do a circle jerk around Aaron’s waiting mouth and race to the finish.
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