Brian's story

Father, I don't know if this is a sin or not. I have been helping a old friend - he's a friend who's old, I mean, and I'm afraid I hurt him...

Brian is a sweet old guy who lives by himself.

He'd been a high school teacher until the rough-and-tumble bullshit from the snot-nosed kids and the general incompetence from the new generation of teachers pushed him into academia. He became a librarian in the school of music, and he thrived. He lived much of his life amongst cardigan wearing, morning tea birthday treat delighted, shy and quiet people who loved music.

After he retired he decided he would learn more about music composition, and got a computer, got Sibelius, and then the usual happened. I got a call from my elderly neighbor who is also a member of U3A - University of the Third Age - can you please be a dear and help out my friend - he's got this *computer* you see...

I called Brian up, and went to visit. There really wasn't too much wrong with the installation, it was more about the user. I offered to help him with some lessons and it all started innocently enough.

The first evening Brian did well, and remembered all of the usual start/stop, save, load, print kinds of commands.

When I returned a few evenings later, I was surprised to find Brian had laboriously written up in longhand all of his mistakes into a note book, and then offered me a wooden ruler.

I looked blankly at him.

"Brian? What's this about?"

"Please," he said, looking serious, "I discovered as a boy that I learn best with the application of the ruler. I had a music teacher - a Mr McLaud - who was very firm with me and I learned to respect his teaching."

He handed me the ruler, and held his hand out, eyes shut, quivering in anticipation.

I looked around me, and shaking my head in amazement, gave him a feeble slap.

His eyes popped wide and his mouth opened with a gasp.

"No! No! No! You have to do it properly," he insisted, "I have made 27 mistakes, you have to give me 27 whacks with the ruler!"

I was taken aback by this request, but he just stood there, humbly waiting. I could see nothing else for it but to begin. I took his wrist, and twisted it palm up.

"I am not McLaud, the open palm I think," I said, in my best strict teacher voice.

I looked at his face, eyes again pressed tightly closed. His lip flickered and he nodded slightly. I began to flail at his open palm. He never once tried to pull away, even though his breathing became ragged.

When I'd finished I could see a tear squeezed, sitting on the corner of his left eye.

He sat down with a puff, and rubbed his palms together. And it was then that I noticed he was not only sporting an erection, but the fabric on his sweatpants was showing an obvious dark spot.

"Thank you, Sir, it is the only way I'll learn."

I felt slightly embarrassed and said nothing. Brian made us a cup of tea, and I went home.

We progressed through the weeks, and it became something of a routine. I'd visit a couple of times a week, Brian would confess his transgressions, and I'd give him a sound slapping with the ruler. Every time I could see that he was aroused, and I was sure this was becoming more about the discipline than the learning. It was having an effect on me as well. I had become more deliberate in my strikes, I enjoyed watching his pain, and I couldn't wait to get home where I'd spend the next couple of hours jacking off.

I decided that on the next evening I'd lift the ante a little. Predictably, Brian had made a number of mistakes, and the ruler was going to be used.

"Both hands, if you please!"

Brian positively jumped at my order, and hastened to bring both hands, outstretched, side-by-side. I left him like this in silence, eyes shut as usual. I went back out to my car, and brought in the length of cord I'd picked up from the DollarSave shop.

I walked around Brian, now visibly shaking, and whispered in his ear, "Brian, you've been consistently slack with your learning. I've tried to help you with the ruler, but I'm afraid I can see that isn't enough."

I stood back a little, and watched him. Waiting. Silent but for our breathing. Sure enough, his cock was swelling. His hand were sagging under their own weight.

"Lift up your hands, Laddie!"

My roar made him jump. He stifled a gasp, and arched his back to lift his swaying hands.

"Too late!"

I thought I heard him swallow a sob.

"Not good enough!"

I stepped forward and wrapped the nylon cord around his wrists, and secured them with firm knots.

"Open! Open your mouth," I ordered.

After a moment's hesitation Brian did, and I shoved my handkerchief into his mouth. He still had his eyes shut, and was holding his hands out in front.

"Open your eyes."

He did so, and I was surprised to see him look so happy. I'd expected him to be outraged, but his obedience was well practiced.

"Is this what McLaud used to do?"

He nodded, and then shook his head. He looked at me pleadingly. His cock was tenting out the front of his sweatpants, the damp spot was there again.

"You've not learned well lately. I am changing the rules here today. Instead of a few whacks with the ruler, I am going to spank you. Do you understand me?"

I slapped the ruler against the palm of my hand for emphasis.

He nodded.

"Do you thing a good spanking would help you learn?"

He looked frightened, but nodded slightly.

"Get down over that stool then, don't keep me waiting!"

He looked quite ridiculous, his arse facing up for my attention. I swallowed, and felt shaky, I never believed he'd go with this at all.

The first swat was little more than a try out, to see how it felt, what his response would be. I fully expected he'd try to escape, but he didn't move. The first half dozen barely brought a response. It was almost as though he was absorbing the energy. It wasn't enough.

I shoved my thumbs on each side of his waist band, and hauled his sweat pants to his knees. He started to protest at the indignity, but I pushed him back down on the stool. He squirmed a little, but I held him down, and I felt him relax as he accepted the new state.

I stood in front of him, my legs apart just in front of his face.

"I haven't finished. That was rude. How can you be so rude?"

My cock was hard now, and I could see Brian's arse thrusting - he was loving this too.

I returned to his arse, and reaching down, ran a finger up and down his crack, pushing in, stretching his briefs even more . He moaned, and thrust with the touches.

"Keep still, Laddie!"

I could see the muscles twitching, running up and down his pale pink thighs.

"Spread your legs, Laddie!"

Brian shuffled his legs apart as best he could. I stroked the fabric of his briefs, stretched tight over his crack and he shivered. It was cold in the room, but I don't think this is what made the hair on his back and neck stand up.

"Och, do I have to do everything for you? Wider!"

He struggled again and I teased his arse. I could see from the side his cock was fully hard, so, with a snap I pulled his white briefs down to his knees.

He lost it. Pushing on his arms he lifted up, standing on his knees. I stepped back, put the flat sole of my boot against his back and pushed him with a jolt forwards. It winded him slightly, and he lay there snorting and choking for air, trying to protest through the gag.

I let him recover for a few moments, and then stood with one foot flat on his back between his shoulders. I rested there, letting him feel my weight.

"Listen to me. You've been bad, and you've been rude, and you know what's supposed to happen to people who do this. You're going to get what you've got coming. You want it. You need it."

I increased the weight on my foot for a few moments, watching him struggle for breath. He didn't look up, I would see his cheeks were flushed with shame.

"That's the truth, isn't it. You need it."

He lifted his head and slowly nodded.

"Indeed. Enough silliness. Time I did my job. There's an arse here that needs spanking, without delay."

I pushed down my foot more, then lifted it off with a flourish. Brian sighed, and his head sunk down, resigned.

I wrenched his sweat pants off and flung them over his back. When I got his briefs off I crowned him with them, blindfolding him. I pulled a dining chair over on to its back, and lashed his ankles to the sides. Perfect. I perched on the edge of the seat, his legs down the edges of the chair back, a view of a very spankable arse before me.

I sat back, and wrestled a boot off.

"We've finished with the computer training, it's time for your new training."

I lifted his head up, and shove the open top of my boot under Brian's nose. He squirmed and writhed as my gamey stench assaulted his senses. I rested my booted foot down between his shoulders and he settled down.

"That's right, just breathe in nice and calm, this is just what you need."

The top of the boot made a perfectly fitting mask over his nose and mouth, every breath filtered through the leather and sweat fragrance.

I felt slowly and deliberately along his crack, plucking out a hair or two when the mood took me. His spasms when I plucked a hair were just too much fun, but I needed to get on with Brian's spanking.

Each slap helped turn his pallid arse from pink into rosy red. I didn't count, I just slapped him until it felt just right. Brian was slumped down into the stool, breathing through my boot - it was beautiful. I sat back on the edge of the chair and surveyed my handiwork. I noticed Brian's cock was soft again, so I reached under and tied cord around his cock and balls. I teased his arse hole until he was as hard as previously, trussed up like a chicken.

"You've been good, Brian, I'm going to reward you with the ruler."

Brian groaned, his voice muffled by the boot.

I stroked his cock and balls, and soon he was thrusting into my hand. We developed a rhythm - stroke, thrust - and when his muscles were tensed, I'd flick a quick lash with the ruler. Brian squealed and squirmed, but he didn't stop. The lashes rained down on his poor arse, the rosy red giving way to a more fearful blotchy red.

I felt him stiffen, and then with a final thrust and a mighty stinging blow to his arse, cum pumped out of his cock and he collapsed on to the stool. I pushed my fingers against and then into his arse hole and he squeezed his cheeks against me as he pumped his balls dry.

I left him like this for what seemed like hours, until his breathing calmed down, and he relaxed. I eased my fingers out of his arse, reached down, and slipped the knots from around his ankles. He didn't move as I liberated his cock and balls, and merely swallowed when I pulled the handkerchief from his lips. He had a pressure mark pressed into his cheeks from the boot. I helped him to his feet, he swayed and winced as he moved

"Come on, I'll run you a bath, get the muscles moving again."

He tottered along behind me, still blindfolded, wrists still tied. He made no effort to escape or to speak, he just rested against the wall as the bath filled. I lifted his hands, and untied the ropes. He rubbed his wrists and flexed his fingers. I helped him take off his top, and get into the bath, wincing with him as he settled in.

I hastened back to the lounge, put the cord away, stood up the chair. It looked once again like a normal suburban room, no sign of the discipline session that'd taken place. I wiped Brian's cum off the stool and carpet, good as new.

I poured Brian a glass of wine and took it up to him. He was drowsing, relaxed. He took the wine and nodded thank you. We drank our wine in silence.

"Another wine?"

"Yes, please, but not here. Can you help me up, I fear I'm slightly inconvenienced."

Brian grunted as I helped him get up and I toweled him off.

"Brian?"

"Why are you wearing your underpants on your head? You look like an idiot."

"Because I..."

He started to laugh.

"Oh God, that was ... that was amazing," he said. "I can't believe you did this for me. With me. To me."

He laughed again, and pulled his white briefs off his head, flinging them into a corner.

"I'm sorry, Brian, I don't know what came over me. It's just that you seemed to enjoy the ruler on your hands, and I thought ... well, you know, you might like a little extra spice."

And yes, Brian did like the extra spice. He found it all amusing, albeit stinging. His computing skills improved, his music composition improved, and he was a happy old man.

A good spanking every couple of weeks or so was all it took to keep Brian in order, and he was like a new man with a sense of purpose. The funny thing was though, we never had sex. Sure, I'd had him cum in my hands numerous times, but we'd never allowed ourselves to go beyond that. It was almost as though we didn't know each other well enough for that kind of thing. The purity lay with me disciplining him. As a teacher, having sex with him was somehow inappropriate.

It's not that I wasn't turned on. My cock was aching when I got home, and I'd jerk off repeatedly. It just seemed ... it's hard to explain.

I helped him explore his willingness to become a disciple of pain, and we were both content to leave it at that. It was weird, kinky, but human as well - one guy with another older guy. Thinking about it just complicates things.

In time we found he enjoyed the suspense of being left, bound, and with my cold boots on his back. I'd leave them outside in the snow so they were bitter, and he'd never be able to feel their icy touch without a gagged scream.

I'd leave him while I went and did some grocery shopping for him, or just go to the pub for an hour or so. I'd never tell him, of course. Just clip him up, over the stool, and just leave the house.

Alone, in the creaking and clicking silence of the house.

I liked it best when I'd creep back into the house, and rain slaps down on his bare arse before he was even aware I was there. I'd know I was successful because he'd jump with fright, his nerves over-riding the rules. The rules are that he is not to move in any way that causes the boots to fall.

They do, of course, if he gets a big enough fright.

The first time he did it I'd just got home from getting the groceries. Some crazy bitch in a eurobland car had reversed into mine, and then just driven off. I saw it happen as I was just leaving the market. Couldn't see the number plate, couldn't get across the car park in time. I was furious. I decided there and then that Brian was going to get a treat tonight. I unloaded the groceries, and went back for wooden clothes pins, and some wooden spoons and spatulas.

Originally I'd planned on arriving like it was armageddon, but as I was driving home I changed my mind. I crept into the house, and I attacked like I was some ninja. Silent but ferocious. Brian jumped with fright and struggled around and fell off the stool. My boots went flying.

"How dare you?!!" I roared at him, slapping at his legs and arms.

Brian squealed for mercy through the gag, but I didn't let up. The anger of my damaged car, and the pleasure of causing Brian pain was a delicious combination. I rolled him over and slapped his arse until my hand tingled, and he was groaning.

I unclipped his legs, and dragged him to his feet. My attack had served its purpose. He was shaking and sobbing through the gag.

"Stand still," I ordered.

He did, his eyes tightly shut, his body shaking.

I ripped open the bag of clothes pins and pulled one out. I pinched his nipple and snapped the pin on. The pain was immediate, and Brian looked at me and the bag with dismay.

He shook his head.

I grabbed him by the jaw and attached a pin to his earlobe.

He folded over trying to escape the pain. The sight of his upturned arse was too tempting, and I slapped him repeatedly, and he felt to the floor. I pulled a dining chair out.

"Get over the chair!"

Brian pulled himself together and did what he was told, obligingly spreading his legs so I could attach pins to the base of his balls. I took the opportunity to attach a cord around his balls and cock, good and tight. His cock was dribbling precum, and I cramped that off with a pin. I attached a pin to the bare nipple and stood back to admire the sight.

Brian was past screaming and any writhing just stretched his tortured skin more. He lay there, across the chair, panting and trying not to move, waiting for the spanking.

The sound of a wooden spoon on bare arse flesh is one of nature's great gifts.

Brian lurched, electrified.

"This is not a arse warming with my hand, today. This is not some feeble ruler either."

I give him another welt.

"This is the finest Swedish beech that Waitrose can supply."

Thwack!

"And they're cheaper by the dozen."

Brian moaned in anticipation, and I laid into him. It was very different to the ruler. The weight, the cupping noise, the marks.

I let Brian luxuriate in the glow of 14 good strokes. I could hear him sobbing and I could see his shoulders heaving.

I pulled the gag out of his mouth and he gasped out his sobs freely.

"Spread your legs properly or I'll do it again."

He winced as he obeyed, and again as I pressed my finger into his arse hole. I stroked his prostate and tried to move as the touches aroused him. I slowly pulled a pin off the skin around his balls. He yelped and he squeezed his arse around my finger.

"Does this hurt?"

He nodded and whimpered.

"It's the only way they're coming off. Make a choice. Now!"

He sobbed again and nodded.

I shoved two fingers deeply into his arse hole and he groaned aloud.

"There. That's better isn't it?"

He was too slow in replying, so I slapped his arse a couple of strikes to remind him.

"Yes," he said, "Yes, that's better."

"That's very agreeable of you."

I slowly pulled another pin off. Brian yelped a little and squirmed against my skewering fingers. I slowly cleared the pins around his balls, leaving just the one pin on the tip of his cock. It was holding back the strain beautifully, Brian's cock was as hard as I've ever seen it.

I began to move my fingers in and out of his arse, and he began to thrust against me, wanting them more and more. I paused for a moment and he kept up the motion. I stopped him by squeezing my free hand on his neck.

"We're changing, Brian, it's time for bed," I whispered.

I felt him stiffen as the words sunk in, and then relax. He said nothing.

"I want you to get up, and we're going upstairs."

He sniffed, and he slid backwards. I kept my fingers firmly up his arse, and helped him to his feet. He took a step gingerly and I pushed him forward with my fingers. Each step dragged at the pins on his nipples and I pinched his arse and tits.

Going up the stairs must've been a nightmare, but he managed. I unclipped his hands, and snapped off the pin on his ear as we entered the bedroom, and pushed him forward free of the invading fingers.

"On your back! Shut your eyes!"

I quickly stripped, and got on the bed with his head between my knees, my balls resting on his forehead. My cock was throbbing, I could feel his anxious breaths blowing on the underside of my shaft. I began tugging and twisting on the pins on his nipples, flicking them so they swung back and forth.

"Oh dear god, that ... "

I pressed my cock against his cheek, and he fell silent with a gasp.

I resumed torturing his nipples until he was writhing, moaning with protest. I stroked my cock against his cheek, feeling the anguished puffs of air from his nose. I wiped my precum across his lips and licked his lips.

"Oh my god please, please..."

I reached down and gently opened the pin on his cock. As I expected, it was so numb for a moment he didn't notice. I was about to cum, and so I teased the nipple pins mercilessly. His movements stroked my cock and I knew he could smell my heat.

Suddenly he felt the blood rush in his cock, and with his nipples screaming in pain, he began to beg again. His movements pushed me over the edge, and my cum pumped out and into his open mouth. I pulled the pins free and he began to cry, his body rocking from head to toe.

"Cum for me, Brian. Do it now!"

He immediately grabbed his cock and in a very few strokes, had his creamy white cum bursting into the air. He shook as though he'd received electric shocks, and choked back his tears. He gasped, and then was still, breathing heavily. I could see his pulse throbbing on his temple.

I reached down and smoothed the dew of sweat off his brow.

---

curation: abdtiresias.tumblr.com

 curation: kinkybr.tumblr.com

 curation: abdtiresias.tumblr.com

The Brass Rail

[Author: HR]

I like to drink. And since my wife died of cancer I go out to the bars in Fort Dodge often. I'm a 70 year old farmer from Humboldt, Iowa but I still think I'm much younger until I look in the mirror. It ain't a pretty picture! What little hair I have is snow white. And looking in the mirror I can't tell where the crow's feet stop and the old age wrinkles start. Seems that my ears and nose have gotten bigger with each advancing year. But when I look at my body, it's still slim, well almost slim. Never had any body hair except for a little around my crotch, very little. My dick hasn't grown bigger like my ears and nose, but thank God it didn't shrink either. My dick might be average but I got a set of balls that would do a prize bull well.

I must admit that I go out to the bars mostly because I am horny. There's a lot of drunken sluts in some of the Fort Dodge bars, like the Brass Rail on Main Street, that will go with an old farmer like me. But I haven't gone with any even though they have offered. 

I didn't know why until Friday was a week ago.

I was sitting at the bar at the Brass Rail drinking a Miller Light. I was well on my way to getting drunk as it was almost closing time and I had been there all evening. I was one of half a dozen drinking at the bar when this little old guy came in and took a seat next to me even though there were lots of empty bar stools. I had seen him in the Brass Rail a couple of times before but had never spoken to him.

Kate, the old red head that own the bar called the little old man Joe, and brought him a mixed drink without asking what he wanted. And as he sipped on his drink, I studied him in the mirror behind the bar. He looked about my age even though his hair was darker and fuller than mine. Like I said, he was small but one of those wiry types that always surprise you with their strength. He was a nice looking old man, especially when I saw his big doe-like brown eyes.

As he took another sip of his drink and set it back on the bar, I caught a glimpse of a Marine tattoo on his arm. I turned and asked him had he been in the Marines. He told me he had retired from the Marines after thirty years. Said even though he had been out for close to twenty years, he still missed them.

"Used to go out drinking with the guys on Friday nights and still do, even though my wife bitches like crazy," he said.

I told him that my wife had died several months ago. 

"Yeah, it's hard. Can't live with them and you can't live without them." 

He paused, and stared straight at our reflections in the mirror.

"But what do you do for sex now. Don't tell me you just jack off."

My face must've turned red because he said, "Hey, I lop my mule sometimes too." 

He bumped his leg against mine, companionably, and I looked up. He smiled. I did too. I knew it. We're both men, we're in this together.

"Closing time!" Kate bellowed, and flicked on the main lights. Her red hair glinted unnaturally in the harsh lights. The warm atmosphere vanished. For some reason her skin reminded me I had some dry wall that needed finishing. "Drink up and get out!"

"Hell, I ain't ready to go home," the old man said. "I've been out so long that my old lady is going to be waiting up for me. Might as well keep her up a little later." 

He grinned, looking mischievous.

"You know of a bar that stays open later?"

I told him that all the bars closed at the same time.

"Damn! I'm not ready to go home."

"If... if you feel like a beer, I got a cooler full of Miller on the back of my truck. When I was a kid I used to drive out to the old quarry and drink beer. Hell, I feel like doing that tonight." 

I was enjoying his company and, like him, I didn't want the night to end.

"Sounds like the plan to me. Let's get out of here before Kate starts throwing thing at us."

I knew from past experiences that he wasn't joking.

I was really second-guessing myself as I grabbed two Millers from my cooler and we climbed into the cab of my pickup. But damn, it made me feel like I was twenty and not seventy years old to be heading out to the quarry.

"Too bad we didn't bring one of those old sluts along with us," the old Marine said. 

I saw him grab his crotch out of the corner of my eye. 

"Hell, I'm horny." 

He took a long drink from his can of beer.

"Me too. But I ain't got a wife to go home to fuck like you have." 

I pulled the pickup near the gravel quarry and turned out the lights. The moon was up, and between the moonlight and the glow from the radio it was as cozy as the bar.

"Well, truth be told, the old battle ax will not let me fuck her anymore. Says my dick it too big," he said.

I laughed and said, "You got to be pulling my leg. Heck you're not as big as a minute. If you've got a big dick it's the biggest thing about you." 

I laughed again.

"You don't believe me," he said in a half angry voice. "Hell, I can prove it real easy." 

The words were hardly out of his mouth when he unzipped his jeans. He reached in and pulled out the longest, thickest dick I had ever seen.

I just set there staring at his huge dick with my mouth open in shock. 

"Damn it. I feel cheated. Why should a little fuck like you have such a monster dick?" I demanded.

It was the old Marine's turn to laugh. 

"Hey, yours can't be that small. Take it out and let's see."

I guess I was really drunk at that point in time because I suddenly found myself unzipping my green work pants and pulling out my little cut dick. I glanced down at my puny dick and over at the old Marine's monster dick and shook my head. 

"Nope, you sure got me beat."

"Make it hard. I bet you got a grower." 

He began to slowly move his hand back and forth over the mushroom head of his own dick, never taking his eyes off mine.

With just a twinge of guilt I started jacking myself off, right there, in front of the old Marine. Even through the alcohol fog in my brain, I couldn't believe that I was actually jacking off in front of another man. Hell, I hadn't even done something like that when I was a kid.

With the old Marine watching, I really didn't expect my dick to get hard. But damn if it didn't swell up like I was twenty years old again. The thing got so hard that it was throbbing.

"Hell, you got a nice dick too. It's not long but nice and thick."

His voice was warm in open admiration. 

"Show me your balls. C'mon."

I felt my pulse quicken, but, I didn't even hesitate. I reached down and undid my pants, and pulled them down to my knees. I dug my hand in my briefs and struggled to pull out my enormous set of balls.

"Wow, I ain't never seen such big nuts! You must shoot a monster load of cum."

Then without asking he reached over and grabbed my balls with his free hand. 

"Damn, they are monster balls." 

He began to massage them.

The shock of having another man touching my nuts stifled the protest in my throat. By the time I recovered from the shock, the touch of the old Marine's rough hands on my bull balls felt so good that I didn't want him to stop. I leaned back and let him massage, pull and squeeze my balls until I thought I was going to shoot off on his hand. I could feel the fire rising and just as I was nearing a climax he pulled his hand away.

Suddenly he had his hand behind my neck and was pulling my head down toward his crotch. 

"Give my big dick a kiss," he urged, forcing my face closer and closer to his crotch.

I wanted to protest, but seeing his monster dick inches from my face sent me into a state of lust that I had never felt before. My warmed up nuts wanted to burst, I wanted to cum. I swear I tried to stop myself, but in spite of my inner battle, I found myself opening my mouth. He knew it. He knew I would before I did. He grunted with satisfaction as he forced my face into his crotch.

The old Marine's dick was hot in my mouth. I ran my tongue around and over it quickly. I gritted myself because I thought he'd taste of piss or something bad but he didn't. 

And damn it if I didn't start sucking the big mushroom head of his dick like I knew what I was doing. I felt surprised, elated. It felt - I felt - I don't know - like a baby sucking its thumb. It felt soothing to have his dick in my mouth - like I'd come home after a very long time.

"Shit! That feels great. Yeah, suck my big dick." 

Strangely enough his words got me even hotter. I actually found myself wanting to please the old Marine as much as I could. So I took as much of his huge dick into my throat as I could without gagging.

"Yeah, you old cocksucker, suck my dick. Suck Big Daddy! Suck him until he squirts!" 

I began to instinctively tongue the shaft of his dick, exploring every ridge, sucking and licking as I went. I wanted to reward him, but more than anything, I wanted to keep his dick in my mouth.

"God damn, you are good, you old queer! Suck me, fag!"

Instead of making me angry, the name calling threw me into a sexual frenzy. I found myself doing the impossible. I was swallowing the old Marine's huge dick an inch at the time. And damn it if I didn't get his entire dick in my throat without gagging.

"Fucking cock sucking, queer farmer!"

The old Marine kept cursing as he began fucking my mouth like he was pumping his wife's pussy. 

"Make me cum, fag! Do it!" he said, slapping me hard on the back of my almost bald head.

I went totally crazy with lust. I buried his dick in my throat until my lips were touching his pubic hair. I don't know how many times I moved my mouth up and down the shaft of his dick as I tongued it. 

Suddenly the old Marine grabbed my head again and held it still, pushing it hard against his crotch as he shot his load deep into my throat. I felt his dick pulse and throb, and then I was swallowing his cum to keep from choking.

He'd barely calmed down when he pushed my head away from his crotch. 

"Hell, that's enough. Don't you know when to quit?"

My old back creaked as I straightened up. I watched the old Marine stuff his still hard dick back into his jeans. I began jacking my own dick as hard and as fast as I could. The old Marine sniffed and turned, looking at my reflection in the window. He drank his Miller Light. Even when I cried out and shot off in my hand he didn't look at me right away. He waited until I stopped puffing and panting before he turned back to look at me.

There was a moment of silence. Some animal called from the quarry in the darkness beyond.

"Rub it on your face!"

I jumped at his sudden drill sergeant's voice. 

"Do it! You fucking fag!"

I looked down, immediately feeling shamed. I found myself obeying him and smearing my huge load of sperm all over my face. It felt sticky and disgusting but damn if a part of me didn't enjoy feeling the cum running down my wrinkled face.

"Look at me!"

I looked slowly up into his deep brown eyes. The old Marine stared back at me, and slowly finished his beer. 

"Get us some more beer and maybe I'll let you suck me off again before we head home."

I got out and pulled two more Miller Lights from the back of the pickup. I got back into the truck and handed the old Marine a beer. 

"I've been looking for an old faggot to suck me off. Seems like I finally found me one."

---

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Judgment

[Author: HR]

I’m tired of the bars, I thought as I walked into Tropics. Houston is singing a beautiful song as only he can as I push my way through the crowd near the piano and then on to the back of the bar. Same faces, including mine. I tried to recall how excited coming to Tropics or Chardee’s used to make me feel, but I couldn’t quite duplicate that long ago state of mind. It’s lost. As I look around the bar while waiting to be noticed by a bartender, I realize that I will never again have that magical feeling.

Now I’m just here to get out of my tiny apartment and have a drink. I know, looking over the familiar faces around me, that I’m never going to meet Mr. Right here. That sense that he is going to be the next one in the door, or the next one to push up to the bar beside me to order a drink, is gone. Here I am, 62 next birthday, all my dreams are gone. I know now that I will never be rich and probably will never love again. At least not in the way I have loved before. Guess once you know real love you just can’t settle for anything less. And looking around the bar, all I could see is less, much less.

Oh, for the first few months after my lover died, I had high hopes. I had visited Tropics and Chardee’s, every night and each night I had been certain that I would meet Mr. Wonderful. Well, I just kept meeting Mr. Lust. I finally come to realize that love seldom comes a second time. If ever.

Lifting the Budweiser that the bartender placed in front of me, I take a sip as I wait for the change. I take the bills, shoving a dollar forward. Then with my Bud in my hand I go over to stand beside the fish tank. I feel like the fish. I feel that everyone is looking at me. Whispering. That’s the one that makes the porno movies. How could he have sex with all those guys and still say he loved his lover? What a slimy person.

Yeah, that’s me, I think.

With a sigh, I push the pain into a corner of my mind where I can almost forget it. I lift the beer to my lips and take a long drink. I want to get drunk. I need to. It helps me forget...

I spot a swishy younger guy that keeps writing nasty things about me on the internet and smile. I feel sorry from him. He’s consumed with jealousy. He goes by the handle of 'Mr. Nice Boy', but inside himself he has such self doubt that it spills over into his personality. It's anything but nice. Funny how people chose names for themselves that are opposite to their true personality. I glance away from his prissy features and take a sip. He’s inconsequential and not worth my time ... or even a stray thought.

“Hi.”

I glance to my right. Standing beside me is a man who looks to be in his late sixties. He’s tall and skinny and ugly but in a pleasant way. His ears are huge. So is his nose. His short cropped hair is grey. The old man smiles. His smile is different. One I haven’t seen in years. It . . . it looks real!

“Hello.”

I stop at that.

“You from here?”

His green eyes bore into me like he’s desperate.

“Look, I’m just in here for a beer,” I said, not wanting a long come on. “If you’re looking for sex, you have the wrong person. I make porno videos and I get enough sex doing them.”

Damn! I don’t need another horny vacationer looking for sex. Hell, I should have stayed at home and watched PBS.

“Really, you make porno movies?”

He looks over his glass at me as he takes a drink. His looks interested but eyes are sad.

I wonder if mine are sad...

“Ask anyone here.”

“Is it fun?”

“Not really. It’s work.”

“Oh. Yes, I can see that it might not be as romantic as most people think.”

He brushes his left hand against my leg.

“Are you alone?”

“Very alone, but that doesn’t mean I want company.”

The old man looks me directly in the eyes. I see that sadness in his eyes again. It’s like a mirror image of what I have seen in my eyes for the last few months.

“Oh,” the old man said, but he doesn’t leave. “But I think you need company as much as I do.”

Suddenly I find myself smiling.

“You don’t give up easily, do you?”

“Not when I see something that I want,” he said. He slowly lifts his drink and takes a sip.

“I’m not interested in sex,” I tell him again.

“Neither am I.”

His words catch me off guard. I look him in the eyes. I see a flicker of hope in his eyes and wonder how long has it been since I have seen hope in my own eyes.

“Look, you seem to be a nice guy. You really don’t want to get mixed up with me. Like I said, I make porno movies. That means I also am in them having sex.”

“I told you I wasn’t looking for sex,” the old man says, and smiles.

“Then what are you looking far?” I say, getting annoyed.

“Love. Someone to make love with. That’s different from sex, you know.”

The tall old man's earnest voice cuts into my mind like a hot knife through butter.  

When’s the last time I made love? I found myself thinking.

I sigh.

“I’ve heard that line before.”

I know that there is suddenly great sadness in my eyes as I remember Frank, and what making love really is.

“Not from me you haven’t,” the old man said.

“No, but people like you. Snow birds,” I say and start to walk away from him.

“I live here. Have for forty years.”

His words stop me in my tracks.

“Then why haven’t I seen you here before?”

“I had a lover and we stuck close to home. Never liked bars.”

The old man took another sip of his drink.

“And still don’t.”

“What happened? You break up with your lover?”

I look directly in his green eyes.

“No, he died of a heart attack,” the old man says, with deep sadness in his voice.

“Mine too. My friend died of a heart attack.”

I suddenly feel the urge to move closer to the old man. I can just about feel his skin, his softness between my fingers.

“Hard, isn’t it.”

I look confused.

“Hard to find someone in a bar I mean,” he says.

“Yeah. Very hard.” I answer.

“Want to come home with me?”

His voice is sad but hopeful.

“O.K.” 


What the hell. Nothing ventured. Nothing gained.

The old man immediately places his drink on the bar in front of the fish tank and heads through the crowd toward the door. I follow and, as I approach the spot at the bar where Mr. Wishes-he-was-a-nice-boy is sitting, the prissy boy tries to catch my eye. Something to say? I ignore him.

Outside, I find the old man waiting, watching the door as I step out onto the sidewalk. He is smiling. His smile is real and contagious I smile back.

“You're handsome,” the old man says.

I laugh.

“Guess you need glasses. There’s a certain person in the bar that thinks I resemble a rat,” I said.

“Well, he’s the one that needs glasses,” the old man says.

"I think both of you need glasses."

I laugh and the old man laughs too. When I stop laughing, I smile, suddenly feeling happy for the first time in months.

“I’ll follow you."

“No. Ride with me. I don’t want you out of my sight.”

The old man suddenly is looking serious.

“But my car . . . ”

“Please. Leave it. Ride with me. Please?"

I can’t resist the sudden desperation in his voice.

“Sure.”

I follow him as he crosses the street. The big sleek BMW he approaches is racy red in color and looks fast. The old man starts telling me his life story as he cranks the powerful BMW’s engine and zips away from his parking spot.

I see he’s heading toward Las Olas. It makes me nervous. I don’t like people with money. They always seem arrogant to me. But then I glance over at the old man and he seems anything but arrogant. He’s as down to earth as anyone I have met in a long time. That’s what I get for stereotyping people.

I try to ignore the huge mansion that he takes me to. But it’s hard. Suddenly I wonder what I doing here. The guy is out of my league.

“Hey, maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

The old man looks sideways at me as he parks the BMW in a four-car garage occupied by two Mercedes and a Jag.

“Why, what’s the matter?”

“Well, like I said in the bar, I'm not interested in sex. In a one night stand.”

The old man looks me directly in the eye.

“Please, don’t hold it against me because I have money.”

His voice once again is almost pleading.

“I can see it in your expression. You’re suddenly not comfortable.”

I looked hard at the old man. He smiled. He nodded toward the garage door.

“Come on inside.”

Finally, I too smile. What the hell! A one night stand with him isn’t all that bad, I tell myself as I follow him out of the garage. The house is huge. I've worked in restaurants with kitchens smaller than this. I stare like a hick at the expensive furniture and oriental rugs in room after room as I'm lead through the mansion until finally we come to a bedroom. It is breathtakingly beautiful. The wallpaper alone must've cost the old man a fortune. In one corner of the bedroom there's a huge statue - some Greek warrior. I notice its dick has been broken off at some point in its history. Despite in its chipped and scarred condition, the statue defiantly radiates a deep beauty. The bedroom is like a center piece in a copy of Architectural Digest.

The old man stops and turns to face me as he nears the bed. I pause. He walks toward me stopping so close that I can smell his natural maleness. I like how he smells, not disguised by expensive perfumes that he could well afford. His scent triggers a sudden desire in me. I don’t flinch when he steps nearer and puts his long strong arms around me and hugs me. I find myself hugging him back, first lightly, and then with passion as the burning need for the old man rushes over me.

We kiss.

He presses his big full lips against mine. I open my mouth. His tongue slides inside. I love the clean taste of his tongue as it borrows deep into my mouth and then down my throat. He presses his mouth hard against mine, driving his tongue even deeper into my throat. I respond to the building passion his kiss releases. I hug the old man even tighter as I return his kiss with more passion than I could ever remember feeling before.

God, please make this more than a one night stand.

The old man breaks off his kiss. He steps back and looks at me.

“You don’t look like you have a big cock.”

I'm taken aback - that was out of the blue.

“What do you mean?”

“In your videos you look like you have a huge cock. But in person you don’t show a trace of a bulge in your crotch,” the old man said.

“You have seen one of my videos?”

“All three of them. I think they are hot. I’ve been jacking off the past few months every night as I watch your big dick spewing cum.”

The old man lurches forward and grabs my crotch.

“Yes, now I feel it. Thick even when it’s soft.”

“You came to the bar looking for me.”

I hear those old accusing tones in my voice.

“Yes. I’ve been going to the bar every night this week hoping that you would be there.”

The old man brushes his hand through his white hair and then slowly begins to unbutton his short. I see the white hair on his chest. It is thick. I suddenly want to run my fingers though it. I reach out and touch his hairy chest.

“Lots of guys get turned on by my hairy chest.”

The old man pulls his shirt completely off. His nipples almost audibly pop as the shirt drags over them.

“I got white pubic hair too.”

He knows the effect his boasts are having on me. His fingers move down and began unbuckling his belt. He cinches in his belt to free the leather from the buckle and in the instant the fabric tightens over his bulge.

“And I've got a big dick. Bigger even than yours.”

His voice is filled with pride as he pulls first his gray slacks down and then, slowly, slowly, his jockey shorts.

“See?”

My eyes zero in on his crotch. The old man didn’t lie. His crotch is a mass of pure white hair. His dick, although soft, hangs down over his big watery balls like some pale white snake attached to his body. I’ve seen lots of dicks in my life but never one with the portions of his monster.

“You should be the one making videos,” I blurt, hurriedly undressing.

“Well, my wife might not like seeing me in a dirty video.”

He reaches down and lifts his dick, fondling it. I can feel the saliva building in my mouth.

“You’re married!”

“Yeah but we haven’t lived together for twenty years. Just a marriage of convenience.”

The old man looks up at me.

“You know I have to look respectable.”

He skins back his foreskin. His dick head is slightly pointed and red.

“Do you like to be fucked?”

“No.”

He notices my slight wince.

“Then that's what I am going to do to you. I’m going to fuck you with my big dick. I'm gonna fuck you hard.”

His words cause my own dick to harden. I fear taking his monster dick, but at the same time I want it. I want to be his. I want to give the old man all the pleasure I can, even if it means pain. I step out of my boxer shorts and stand presented, an offering before the naked old man.

He barely glances at me. Calmly he turns around and lies over a lounge.

“Eat my ass! I want you to do something to me that I haven’t seen you do in one of your videos.”

I hesitate, uncertain.

“Come on! Eat it! Now!”

His demanding voice sounds fatherly and stern. His orders remind me of my father’s voice. I find myself kneeling down behind his ass, shaking slightly.

“Stick your tongue inside my asshole.”

I reach between the old man’s legs and grab his dick in my hand, and I press my face between the cheeks of his ass. My lips touch his silky ass bud. I kiss it like I was kissing his lips. Then the old man moans, and I flick my tongue out and touch it to his asshole. The old man moans louder. I start tonguing his asshole, while jacking his dick.

The old man’s asshole is tight but as I lick and press the tip of my tongue against it, his asshole loosens up until I am able to get the tip of it inside him.

“Yes! Do dirty things to me.”

I force my tongue deeper inside the old man's asshole.

“God! That feels great. Deeper. Fuck me boy. Use your tongue!”

His deep fatherly voice, his controlling tone... I find it impossible to resist his orders.

I work my tongue completely inside his asshole, feeling the silky inside of his ass pussy. I love the feeling.

"Fuck me with your tongue!”

I began to work my tongue in and out of his asshole. The old man starts hunching. I love knowing that I am giving the old man pleasure. I work my tongue harder and faster. He hunches like crazy as his huge dick springs to full size.

“That’s enough! I don’t want to cum yet.”

He pulls his ass from my reach. He turns around and faces me as I stay knelt down on the floor. His huge dick is pointed directly toward my mouth. He takes a step toward me and suddenly his monster dick in pressed against my lips.

I hesitate a moment too long, and he slaps my face.

“Suck it, bitch, suck it like I’ve watched you suck those old guys’ dicks on your videos.”

His words make me feel cheap. My cheek is stinging, my nose starts trickling, and my eyes watering, but I get a strange pleasure out of what he says. I grab his thick white snake and open my mouth. He shoves his dick so far down my throat that I gag.

“Come on, you can do better than that! Suck it.”

He shoves his dick back down my throat.

I fight to keep from gagging again. His dick reaches impossibly deep down my throat. I feel like I am swallowing a sword. I don’t know what keeps me from gagging. But somehow I manage to deep throat the old man’s entire dick.

“Yeah! Take it, you fucking slut! Take it all!”

The old man reaches down and grabs me behind the head. I manage to take his mouth fucking. His dick hurts my throat yet I don’t protest. It's tragic, but I just want to please him so much.

“Damn, you have a hot warm mouth. Just like I thought you would.”

His voice is filled with pleasure. I enjoy knowing that I am giving him pleasure.

“I wonder how many dicks you’ve sucked.”

He fucks my mouth ever harder.

“How many men have cum in your mouth? God! I could shoot off in your mouth right now.”

The old man shoves me back as he pulls his dick out of my mouth. I fall back on the oriental rug, reeling, gasping for breath.

“Lift them legs. You are about to get fucked by the biggest dick in Florida.”

The old man pulls a tube of KY from a mahogany night stand beside the bed.

Even though I knew that I was in for a great deal of pain, I wanted the old man to fuck me. He was standing over me, tall and handsome. So fatherly looking. I wanted to please daddy. I want to be his boy. I wanted to give him all the pleasure he wanted no matter how much it hurt.

Then the old man kneels down between my legs. I lift my head and watch him guide the head of his dick toward my tight asshole. He looks into my eyes. His green eyes are afire with passion. His face is stern and determined like I remember my father’s face when he would gave me an order.

“I’m going to fuck me a slut.”

The old man presses the head of his dick against my asshole. I feel the coolness of the KY. Then I gasp. The pain is incredible as the old man applies pressure to the head of his dick. It feels like he is trying to enter me with a baseball bat. I grit my teeth to keep from crying out, but I do anyway. I want to please him. I want him to be mine. I think I’m falling in love with him.

“Hell, I didn’t expect a slut like you to have such a nice tight asshole,” the old man said and he pushed his hips forward.

The head of his dick pops into my asshole. I cry out. The pain brings tears to my eyes. The pressure of his dick on my bladder makes me piss a little.

“God! You are tight. Love your tight asshole!” the old man said, “Take more of my dick, you slut!”

I feel him forcing more of his huge dick inside me. The pain causes my back to arch. But the smile on the old man’s face keeps me from telling him to stop. I want to please him so me that I bite my lip and say nothing as he skewers more of his huge dick inside me. I feel like I can’t take another inch but he keeps shoves more and more dick into me. Finally, I have all of him inside of me. I feel good in spite of the pain. I am his. All his. I can take him and give him the pleasure he wants.

“Now, slut, I’m going to fuck you like you never been fucked before!”

He stares into my eyes with his inflamed green eyes, wild passion etched into his face.

“Your asshole is never going to be the same.”

Then the old man starts pumping his long dick in and out of me with such speed and power that I almost faint. I can’t decide which is greater the pain or the pleasure. It hurts like hell, but it also feels great to have such a huge dick moving rapidly in and out of my asshole.

"Oh God, fuck me Daddy, fuck me like you hate me."

I feel like a woman getting fucked. I like that thought. I like knowing that I can give the old man such pleasure. Surely he is enjoying it even more than me. Surely he loves me! God! I love him. I want to be his boy!

“I’m cumming!”

I know it, maybe before he does. I feel the old man's body tensing up. He jerks his dick out of my asshole, and points his dick head toward my face and shoots off. I feel his cum striking my stomach, chest and then my chin as great gobs of white sperm flies out from the head of his dick.

The old man shakes himself like a wet dog. Then he stands up over me. I look up into his stern face and began jacking off. I can feel the old man’s cum dripping of my chin and running down my neck. My dick is rock hard. I want the old man to see me shoot off on myself.

“Hey, I got to go to bed. Get dressed, I’ll call you a cab.”

I can't believe I'm hearing this. He sounds so unconcerned. The old man turns his back on me. I watch in disbelief as he walks over to a telephone on the night stand on the left side of the bed. He picks up the receiver and begins to dial a number.

My dick deflates like a severely punctured tire. One moment it is rock hard and another moment it is limp in my hand. I sit up as I listen to him coolly giving the dispatcher his address. When he finishes he turns to me.

“Hurry up! The cab will only be five minutes. You need to get dressed.”

He pulls out his wallet and draws a hundred-dollar bill out. He tosses it on the floor next to me.

“Here’s cab fare.”

I ignore the money as I stagger to my feet. I can feel tears burning in my eyes.

“Why didn’t you let me drive my car if you didn’t want me to spend the night with you?”

“Please! I can't have a trick’s car parked in my driveway, especially something as common as what you drive.”

His face writhed in a sneer.

“When will I see you again?”

I know the answer already.

“Oh, I’ll call you sometime,” he says, hurriedly.

“Yeah, I am sure you will, you asshole.”

I grab my shirt and shorts, and quickly dress.

“What do you expect?”

His face betrayed his true feelings.

“You are nothing but a slut. A would-be porno star. Get used to it.”

Rage builds up inside me. There's a deep pain between my eyebrows. But then I smile through it.

“Thanks for the lesson.”

I turn and walk out of the bedroom.

“Guess I forgot my place,” I say, over my shoulder.

I want to strike out and destroy something, but don’t, knowing that it really is my own fault.

I took the first step down the path that lead to his, not him, I thought as I walked out into the hot night air. But whatever he thinks I am, he's wrong. 

Even if I am the only one that knows it.

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The Volunteer - part 1

[Author: HR]

When I moved back to Iowa, after retiring from the law firm of Hughes, Hubbard & Reed in New York City, I figured that I would have to go to Chicago or Minneapolis to find older men to have sex with.

But then I discovered the wonderful world of volunteering! The place I volunteered to work in was a nursing home called Friendship Haven. I don't want to tell you the name of the town in Iowa, but will tell you that it's located in the North central part of Iowa.

There's a few scary stories about nursing homes. Friendship Haven at least made an effort to live up to their name.

My job was to push a cart with magazines and books around to the patient's rooms and give them out to those that wanted something to read. More than half of my patients were women, but that still left a lot of old men on my rounds. The ages of the old men ranged from 62 years to 98. Some of them were bedridden but some were in as good physical shape as I am at 67.

My very first encounter was with George. He was 90 years old and semi-bedridden. He could get out of bed and walk to the bathroom but not much farther. I remember vividly pushing my cart into his room that day and looking at the balding man lying on the bed flipping through Newsweek.

"Need something to read?" I asked as I neared his bed.

I could tell the old man was tall as his feet reached to the very end of the hospital bed. He was slender but not skinny. When he glanced over at me with his green eyes they were sparkling with life. Even in his advantaged age he was still handsome, at least to me. I loved his big nose, huge ears and, from the parts I could see, his almost hairless body.

The old man asked me what I had that was new. I told him that this was my first day and I didn't know what was what on the cart.

"You got any Playboy magazines?" he asked with cheeky grin.

I shook my head.

"Fuck them! They think just because a man is in this place that we don't want any sexy magazines," the old man grumbled.

"You mean you still think about sex?"

I was surprised that the old man was still interested in sex.

"Hell yes! Ain't you?" he shot back at me. "Hell, I can still get it up. Well, not as hard as it was when I was your age. But I can still shoot a load, a big load. But, hell, they will not allow sexy magazines in here. I need a little stimulation."

My face must've shown the doubts I was feeling at the truth of his statements because the old man suddenly said, "You don't believe a word of what I'm saying!"

"Sure I do," I said, but even I didn't believe myself.

"Hell fire! Close the damn door and I'll show you."

The old man sat up, and swung his legs over the bed

"Go ahead and close the door. I don't want one of them damn nurses coming in on me."

I closed the door, and turned back. The old man had already dropped his boxer shorts, and was working on his peter. Even completely limp the old man's circumcised peter looked promising.

"You don't think I can make it shoot off do you?" the old man accused.

Suddenly I felt the burn run through me. I wanted to see the old man cum.

"Well, you are ninety!"

I felt guilty that I'd reminded him. You think he doesn't know this already?

"Fuck my age. Come over here. I'll show you that I can still shoot off!"

I walked over until I was standing only a foot or so in front of the old man. I watched as he grabbed his limp peter with a wrinkled, age spot covered hand and began to move it back and forth along the thick limp shaft of his peter. But after only a few strokes he stopped and spat in the palm of the hand he was using to masturbate.

"Too dry for my old pecker," he mumbled. Then he started working on it again.

The attention his peter was getting caused it to swell bigger and bigger as the old man jacked himself. I marveled at the size of the old man's pecker. He was doing pretty good, but no matter how fast and hard the old man moved his hand up and down the shaft of his old pecker it didn't get fully hard.

"See, I need to look at some pussy!" the old man said, his voice wheezing, all out of breath. "Need a Playboy magazine."

He stopped working on his pecker.

"Damn it!"

"It's ok. I'll bring you a Playboy magazine tomorrow."

"Ain't going to do me no good right now. I haven't shot off in a couple of months. And I'm all worn out. Can't work on it anymore," he said, between gasping breaths.

Then he looked up at me and said in a plaintive voice, "Can you help me out here?"

I must have looked shocked because the old man added. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked you to do that. That's wasn't right." He said in a sad voice, "Shit, it's hard getting old."

My hands were trembling with excitement as I reached down and touched the old man's huge limp pecker. The old man glanced up at me. "I don't mind." I said in almost a whisper as I grabbed his enormous pecker and started to jack it slowly.

The feel of the old man huge soft dick in my hand made my knees weak it felt so good. And the look on his wrinkled aged face made we want to kiss him.

"That feels good, but I need some lubrication. It's too dry."

Then before I could stop myself I was down on my knees before the old man, guiding his pecker head toward my mouth.

"Oh dear God!" he exclaimed as I started sucking on his peter's head.

"That feels wonderful!"

I swallowed more and more of his semi-soft dick. If his dick had been hard I doubt I would've have been able to take even half of it. But it was soft and I just kept cramming more and more of his pecker into my mouth until my chin was resting against the old man's balls.

The old man moaned as though he was in heaven when I moved my mouth up and down the shaft of his old pecker. I tongued and sucked his member, and I soon became lost in the bliss of the moment.

He came without warning. One moment his old pecker was dry and the next moment cum was gushing out of his piss hole. In my 67 years - and I have swallowed lots of loads - never have I had one as large as the old man's. I thought his dick wasn't ever going to run dry. He just kept flowing until cum was running out of my mouth and down my chin onto my chest.

The old man fell back out the bed. I let go of his pecker thinking that he was dying. When I saw the smile on his face I knew he was all right even though he was gasping for breath. I just stood over him until his breathing slowed down enough that he could talk.

"Damn good blow job," he said, a mix of gratitude and admiration.

He swallowed between sucking in air.

"Will you do it again tomorrow?"

He took a deep breath then, breathing out with a sigh, "Please?"

How could I say no?

"Sure. Why not?"

I reached down and took his limp pecker and slipped it back into his boxer shorts. But instead of leaving, I unzipped my pants and pulled out my dick. I was too excited just to walk away. I moved up until my swollen dick was inches from the old man's mouth.

The old man looked up at me but didn't speak as I began to jack my engorged pecker as hard and fast as I could. The old man stared at my rock hard dick. I pushed the head of my pecker against his lips but he didn't open his mouth. So I just started rubbing my pecker back and forth across his mouth as I jacked it. Then I reached down with my other hand and took his soft dick in my hand. The feel of his soft dick and remembering how I had swallowed his big load of cum sent me over the edge.

Suddenly I was shooting off on the old man's face. He closed his eyes to keep from getting cum in them as cum spurted out of my jerking dick. When I'd finished the old man had cum from his forehead to his chin.

"Hold still and I'll clean it off."

He opened his eyes. Then I leaned over and started licking my cum off his face. The old man grunted and tried to turn his head away from me but I reached down and held his head still while I licked his face clean of cum.

"Open your mouth."

The old man did as I asked and I kissed him, sending my cum coated tongue deep inside his mouth. He resisted me. But I wouldn't stop. I sent my tongue deep into his throat. Then when I started stroking his tongue with mine the only man finally began to kiss back.

I finally broke our embrace and took the head of my dick and pushed it against his lips again.

"Suck the last drops out."

This time the old man did as I ordered. He opened his mouth and took the head of my dick inside and began to suck hard on my dick head. I could feel the last of my load being drained out of my dick.

"Good enough," I said.

I pulled my dick out of his toothless mouth.

"Are you coming back tomorrow?"

I pushed my dick back into my pants and zipped up.

"I don't know if I want to."

I hesitated. I could hear his clock ticking.

"Do you want me to?"

He nodded his head.

"But tomorrow you have to suck my dick and swallow my load."

The old man shook his head.

"I don't like that," he mumbled.

"Then I'm not going to suck you off."

The old man was silent for a long time. Then finally he said. "Ok."

"Good, I'll see you tomorrow." I said.

I leaned over and kissed the old man on the forehead.

<<<<<< || >>> The Volunteer - part 2 >>>

curation: geronto.tumblr.com