Hey guys, thank you all for the continued love, emails and pics (I'm hoping some of you will start sending videos but eh, what're ya gonna do?).
Not as long between drinks for this one - it is almost as long as the Wrestler but it is a twist on the idea which still works, in my mind at least. Enjoy! And yes, I chewed up and spit out a thesaurus... also chomped, masticated or... only two synonyms? Oh my God, I'm losing my perspicacity!
If you haven't already, feel free to ignore my now-defunct tumblr! http://dumbhornyjock.tumblr.com/ BUT I am on Twitter now - look for @JockDumb or Dumb Horny Jock :) Donate to Nifty if you can - http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Do not take medical advice from this story!
Here are some stories about my adventures as an 18yo dumb jock... well, more like misunderstandings and accidents.
Being grounded sucks. The mercury was rising and school had been cancelled due to 'extreme unseasonable warmth'. But that didn't stop Dad from giving me very strict instructions on what to do while he was at work. He stood in my bedroom doorway, frowning as usual, sweating and adjusting his tie.
"Do NOT visit any of your friends today. Do NOT use the internet while I'm not home. I've changed the password so good luck with that anyway. DO complete your homework - just because school was cancelled, giving me no time to find someone to supervise you (grumble grumble) and the boss has a strict 'no kids in the office' rule (grumble grumble)... where was I? That's right, DO complete your homework. Are you listening to me Tom? Is this getting through?" He raised his bushy eyebrows at me, moustache crinkling at the edges as his grimace quivered severely.
I sat up in bed. "YES Dad! I'm not deaf and I'm not stupid, I can hear you and I understand! Now go, you're gonna be late!" I was tempted to roll my eyes but knew that wouldn't help the situation. Dad quickly checked his watch and grumbled again.
"Fine, I'm out of here but I'll be back by 5pm and you'd better be here with that homework finished." He sighed and quit barking at me for a moment. "Just... TRY to do something useful?" I nodded solemnly and he left, and I did manage to save up my eye roll until after the front door had slammed behind him.
Can't visit friends? Going to see what Eddy was up to at the ol' D'Angelo house was out then... No internet? Wouldn't be emailing my newest college friend Darius (who contacted me frequently to hang out, I might add - who said college students are 'too cool' for high school students?). "Something useful", I repeated out loud... With a snap of my fingers, I knew what I could do.
Dad had recently helped old Mrs Brooker down the road with some home maintenance. She was a crabby old woman who went to church more often than she smiled and looked to be at least 100 years old. She bailed Dad up at church one Sunday to quiz him about timber, and nails, and paint, all culminating in her pressuring him into building and painting a new fence for her. Surrounded by his peers in the congregation, Dad accepted. He spent a whole weekend there constructing it and painting it - apparently she never even offered to reimburse him for the materials - and it wasn't until after he'd finished that she screeched it was the wrong colour and needed to be completely repainted. That took up another weekend.
But if Dad could be a good Samaritan for the day (or four days, technically) then I could be too. Mr Wilson was a black man in his sixties who lived down the street. His house was a large, beautiful residence, big enough for his adult children and their own children to stay when they came to visit (which didn't seem to be often). His wife wasn't in the picture and he had moved in alone about a year back when he bought the local supermarket. He had managed multiple stores at the height of his career and was downsizing in his 'golden years'. We stopped shopping there not long after he took over as manager (Dad grumbled something about 'low prices not being as important as one's own convictions' whatever that means). To buy our groceries we now had to drive 30 minutes across town.
Mr Wilson was a huge believer in helping others. He often organised or was at the forefront of local charity events - dog wash fundraisers, bingo nights, fun-runs... and I had a sneaking suspicion that he dressed up as Santa each Christmas and handed out presents at the church (at least, I'm PRETTY sure Santa isn't real). Occasionally he even volunteered to teach shop at my high school, though Dad never signed the permission slip for me to attend that class.
One additional thing that made Mr Wilson stand out was his size. People revelled in complimenting Mr Wilson on his physique after a few of the nosier locals discovered that he had been a semi-professional bodybuilder in his younger days. He was 6'4 and every bit as muscular as you'd expect a retired bodybuilder to be. He really was an impressive man - and today, I was going to pay him a visit and help him with anything he needed around the house, just like my Dad did with Mrs Brooker!
Throwing back the covers and hopping out of bed, I briefly admired my athletic body in the mirror. I was wearing my pink thong (OK, so I didn't know what it was originally but Darius told me it was a thong after he asked me to send him a whole bunch of pictures) as pyjamas in this heat. For an 18 year old, I wasn't exactly packing on the muscle, despite my vigorous and frequent squat-routine. Arms? Lean. Waist? Still slim. Thighs? Thick-ish. Ass? Still phat. Body hair check? Still smooth. Sighing, I threw on a tank top and some shorts over my thong and skipped out of the house.
It was ridiculously hot! I was sweating buckets before I was even halfway there. My thong was rubbing wetly against my smooth asshole forcing me to pluck out the strap every few steps. Each time it snapped back against me, my jock nips got hard as bullets. Hopefully there was air con at my destination.
Thankfully, Mr Wilson didn't disappoint. I knocked on his heavy door and he answered quickly, holding a screwdriver and wearing equally heat-appropriate shorts and a polo shirt. The blast of cool air from inside hit me immediately and I could hear the whirring noise of a hard-working air conditioner. "Well well well, Tommy Hardwick... this is a nice surprise." He gave me a big grin and shook my hand. "But shouldn't you be in school?"
My hand was dwarfed by his big black paw but I smiled back warmly. "Not today, Mr Wilson. School's out because of the heat. I thought I'd come by and see if you needed help with anything?" He seemed genuinely surprised that a young fellow like me would be so generous with my time. He let go of my hand and stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Does your Dad know you're here Tommy? I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble. At least get out of that heat for a moment..." Mr Wilson seemed to think it over before stepping to the side to let me in. He was so large I had to squeeze past him. It was impossible to ignore his remarkably brawny body (for a 60-something year old!) and my eyes drank it in with admiration. I bowed my head, embarrassed. I really did wish Dad would be friendlier around the neighbourhood - he was very... selective about who he liked and didn't like. I tried to shrug off my unease. "He won't mind, Mr Wilson. I can help you with whatever you need and be home before he's back from work anyway. By the look of that screwdriver, I think there might be something you need help with anyway...?"
"Yes... well... I'm installing a home security system. Can't be too careful when you're old and live alone, like me," he chuckled. "I guess I could use some assistance and a sharp pair of eyes. Sure, come on in! I've installed most of the cameras upstairs already but there's a few still to do down here. But... let's keep an eye on the clock."
Mr Wilson brought me some lemonade and explained the work that we needed to do while I cooled down. There was a large cardboard box at the bottom of the stairs containing a few small surveillance cameras. A main control panel had already been installed by the front door. 'Gaines Home Security Systems' flashed on the screen. Upstairs was covered - he explained that if I really wanted to help, I could be his assistant with the downstairs camera installation and setup. I readily agreed.
It was more difficult than I expected. Mr Wilson would get up on a step ladder and fiddle with the wires already hanging from holes drilled in the ceiling. My job was to hand him a camera from the box when he was ready... and that was about it. I wasn't sure if I was really helping much at all and that maybe he was just humouring me... but it was better than staying home alone all day. Things got a little alarming when at one point, while he finished screwing away at the last camera in the kitchen, there was a loud ZAP and Mr Wilson wobbled on the step ladder. "Gosh darn it!" he cursed, dropping the screwdriver as I leapt to hold the ladder steady. My face was unfortunately at his crotch-height, and I could feel a sizeable lump mashed against my cheek as I firmly gripped the ladder and mumbled, "You OK Mr Wilson?"
He sucked his thumb and caught his breath. "I'm OK Tommy, thanks for the quick thinking... almost fell there." He looked up at where a few loose wires still dangled around the camera. "Strange... that wasn't supposed to happen. Maybe I forgot to turn the power off? Gosh, that could have been dangerous!" He then looked down at where my face was jammed between his beefy thighs right up against him and coughed nervously, before gently putting his hand on my head and guiding it away from his groin. It was suddenly very quiet in the house. And getting warmer.
"I must have tripped the circuit... God in heaven, and with this old house that means no air con for the rest of the day at least." He stepped down from the ladder slowly, still a little shaken. He slapped his strong hands against his thighs and sighed. "OK, that's it then, just need to program all of these into the main control panel, fix up those wires and I'll be safe and sound." He grinned and ruffled my hair. "Thanks for all of your help Tommy. I would tell your Dad what a big help you've been but... maybe it's best if we keep your visit between us. As for me, I'm gonna head upstairs and get more comfortable before the house becomes a sauna." He put a hand on my shoulder and walked me to the front door by the bottom of the stairs.
"OK Mr Wilson, I'm glad I could help and that you're nearly done!" He smiled again before heading upstairs, leaving me by the door. I reached for the handle... before realising that programming these cameras in was probably the hardest part! If I could help Mr Wilson with THAT, well... that would be more helpful than anything else I'd done today.
With him gone, I turned to the panel and tapped the touchscreen. 'Install Gaines Home Security System?' I tapped 'Yes'; easy enough so far. 'Name of homeowner?' Umm... 'Mr Wilson' I tapped. I didn't know his first name but that wasn't going to stop me from helping him.
Next the screen asked for an email address where it would send any logged videos of unauthorised or suspicious activity. "Hey Mr WIL-soooonnnn!" I yelled upstairs, but received only silence in reply. Oh well, I thought, I don't know Mr Wilson's email address... and I can't very well put in my own email address. If I was at school and Mr Wilson was in trouble, I'd be no help. The only other email address I knew by heart was Dad's office email address (for me to use if I needed something printed for school). Shrugging to myself while absently plucking at my thong strap, I punched it in. The last step was to name each of the installed security cameras located throughout the house.
The sound of heavy footsteps preceded Mr Wilson reappearing at the bottom of the stairs. I was stunned to see him only wearing a pair of thin white briefs. He hadn't lost any of his imposing musculature from his bodybuilding days - in fact, without clothes, he looked a good 20 years younger! The man had pecs and biceps to rival any current bodybuilder and his skin was as smooth as black silk (like his bald head) all over. I also couldn't help staring at the very stretched, very strained pouch of those tighty-whities and gulped audibly.
Mr Wilson turned his head sharply towards me with a look of surprise on his face. "Tommy... you're still here?" He walked a few steps towards me before frowning, seemingly remembering his near-nakedness and thrusting both hands in front of his crotch. The sudden movement ripped my eyes from that now-hidden bulge and up to his face. I grinned.
"I've nearly finished setting up the system for you, Mr Wilson. Wanted to make sure you'd be safe after all this hard work."
His stern expression softened. "Well I appreciate that, young man but that wasn't necessary. Let's see here..." Mr Wilson squinted at the control panel and began assigning room names to each of the cameras, both downstairs and upstairs. Kitchen, Living Room, Dining Room, Master Bedroom, Patio, Front Entryway... I won't bore you with the rest.
When he was done, the screen showed a green smiley face. "Excellent!" he clapped his large hands together. "Only have to fix up those wires and we're good to go. Don't want you staying too long and..."
I interrupted him, "That means we're nearly finished and THEN I'll go home, Mr Wilson." I grinned at him and he remained silent for a while before chuckling and raising his hands in the air in defeat.
"OK, OK, I'm not going to argue, and I do appreciate your time... this home improvement stuff was never really my strong point and it has been helpful having an assistant." With his hands up, he remembered his state of undress again and saw fit to explain himself. "Uh... I thought you'd gone and... with the air con busted..."
Again, I interrupted him. "It's nothing Mr Wilson. You look great anyway, for a guy your age. More buff than most of the jocks at school if I'm honest!" It didn't hurt to be kind and inflate the man's ego a little - besides, it was true.
He genuinely blushed before coughing and announcing, "OK then - wires, and we're done." He walked past me into the now-humid kitchen. Mr Wilson had the right idea by stripping off... with his back to me, I decided to follow suit. Dropping my shorts and wriggling out of my tank top, I followed him wearing only my bright pink thong.
He was already on the ladder when I got there, once again tampering about with the wires. "Mr Wilson," I mused, "did you remember to turn off the..."
This time there was a louder ZZAAAPPP and scantily-clad Mr Wilson started falling in what seemed like slow motion. I leapt towards him, my glutes clapping cartoonishly behind me... but I was too slow to grab at him or the ladder. Mr Wilson fell - landing on the floor with a thud, his head sling-shotting back to make a sickly CRACK sound as it hit the floor.
I froze. In Phys Ed they teach us what to do in these situations but I was like a deer in the headlights at first. Coming to my senses, I grabbed the phone from the wall and dialled 911 as quickly as I could. Babbling the address and a summary of what happened to the lady on the other end of the line, it seemed like hours but was only minutes before the paramedics arrived.
I answered the door hurriedly for two men - one older, paunchy and experienced-looking and one who looked to be in his 20s. Both of them were already thoroughly sweat-soaked. Two sets of eyes bugged at the sight of me in my thong before I pointed to where Mr Wilson's huge body was lying prone on the kitchen floor. "He's in there, please help!" Following them as they rushed, I could only stand by and watch as they checked him over with urgency.
"Electric shock and head injury? I'll elevate this, you check his obs for that, vitals too, more clinical jargon..." At least that's what it sounded like to me. I did my best to stay out of their way for a few minutes before they stood and wiped their brows.
The older one spoke. "He's gonna be fine, kid. Looks to be something of a concussion. Bit of bad luck there with the shock and the fall, for a big older fella like this guy. No head wound though and no irregular heartbeat, so that's the good news." I looked at each of them and then at big Mr Wilson lying on the floor and could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.
"But... he's not moving... oh please, is he really alright? Do I need to call my Dad? Ohh, he'll be so upset to hear...!"
The younger paramedic seemed amused by my sniffling but the older one was much more kind. "Hey now, it's OK kiddo, it's a strange combination that's all. Getting shocked like that, coupled with a jarring fall, it can cause a kind of semi-paralysis. He's fully conscious - it's not a coma or anything scary like that - and we expect he'll fully recover in about an hour. Now, we'll get him into bed and monitor him a short while longer but you don't need to worry. As long as you're 18...," he raised an eyebrow sharply and looked slightly concerned, "...we can leave you to look after him and nobody needs to um... call your Dad." He looked uncomfortable saying that last part.
I nodded effusively and breathed a HUGE sigh of relief, kneeling beside Mr Wilson as they left to collect a stretcher from the ambulance. I turned my head, hand resting on his lower abs and thonged ass wiggling, as they returned.
"So... what exactly were you two doing?" The younger one asked, smirking slightly and letting out an asinine chuckle. I explained that I lived nearby and was visiting lonely old Mr Wilson while my Dad was busy at work. I described the near-miss when Mr Wilson almost slipped off the ladder the first time, resulting in my face ending up in his crotch, and that Mr Wilson went upstairs to strip shortly afterwards. He glanced at the nearly-naked Mr Wilson and took another long look at my practically-invisible thong, nodding firmly as he must have understood how we were trying to beat the heat.
Together, they half-lifted, half-rolled his substantial muscle mass onto the stretcher and I followed them upstairs to his room. I somehow managed to guess the location of the master bedroom on my first try, which earned me two more strange looks, where they gently rolled him from the stretcher to his big comfy-looking mattress. They checked his vitals one more time as I stood anxiously at the foot of the bed before I noticed something... curious.
My eyes grew wide at the sight of what looked to be a fat black eel trying to burst through Mr Wilson's thin white briefs. The paramedics both looked at it and then at me and my worried face. "That can happen sometimes," the older, more experienced one offered nervously, "with a mild electric shock. Don't worry, he's not in any pain and it won't last long."
The younger one chuckled at this, "Yeah... he probably wishes it would last forever!" I folded my arms, unimpressed that he seemed to be making fun of poor old Mr Wilson.
Mr Wilson could barely move but at least his eyes were open. I kneeled on the edge of the bed, back slightly arched. "Is there anything I can do to make him more comfortable? Or speed up his recovery?"
The younger paramedic nudged his partner and mumbled, "Some mouth to cock resuscitation oughta do it... you know, a little oral therapy for the old man. I mean you were probably going to anyw...," which earned him a sharp elbow-jab and a frown from his older partner. The idea ticked over in my brain. Mouth to cock resuscitation... huh. Obviously that wasn't something they taught in Phys Ed, but if it could help Mr Wilson I was willing to give it a shot.
The older man sighed and spoke calmly. "Keep an eye on him for an hour or so and call 911 again if he's in any distress or discomfort, OK kid? Just be aware he may not be able to speak in that time so try not to be alarmed." Of course I agreed to take care of him as best I could, and walked the paramedics back downstairs, closing the door behind them as they left.
I returned upstairs and was once again slightly unnerved by how the strong black man sprawled out on the bed in front of me looked. His eyes were half-lidded and he mumbled as if trying to speak. The fingers on both large hands flexed and curled, as did his toes... and his briefs looked painfully tight as his megadong throbbed like it had its own electric current. His comfort was my first priority.
"First things first", I announced, "those briefs have got to come off!" As I walked over, Mr Wilson let out a garbled noise and looked as if he was trying to sit up. I reached him and gently pushed down on his chiseled, somewhat sweaty chest. "Shh, it's OK... it's only a penis, Mr Wilson. Nothing I haven't seen before in a biology textbook or in the locker room showers at school!" He raised both hands off the bed weakly but the paralysis had the better of him for now. He looked genuinely troubled as I began peeling the tighty-whities down his ebony thighs. He made another strangled groaning noise as his heavy body struggled so I continued reassuring him while undressing him.
"No need to be embarrassed... it's only a... big... black... COCK!" The monster that was lurking inside his briefs sprang out suddenly, causing my jaw to drop. Staring at it, my hands fumbled with his underwear until they slipped completely off him. Bundling them up in a ball, I tossed them behind me and out the bedroom door... only vaguely registering that they landed halfway down the hallway. You'd forgive my stunned reaction if you had seen what I saw. Mr Wilson was already an impressive man - kind, considerate, generous... but he also had a very impressive footlong horsecock which was right now standing perfectly erect, pointing at the ceiling, which seemed impossible not only a) for a dick that enormous but b) for a man in his sixties! His hands lifted from the bed again in a feeble attempt to shield his prodigious privates from my teen eyes, but they barely made it to his sides before the effects of fatigue and paralysis took over once again.
I shook my head to free myself from my stupor. Had I bitten off more than I could chew? I mean, the paramedics hadn't left any directions on exactly how one was meant to administer mouth to cock resuscitation... but the more I thought about it, the more I knew I had to do something. It was almost like fate - if I hadn't been here when the accident happened, who would have even called the paramedics? The freakish size of his manmeat was daunting but shouldn't stop me from doing whatever I could to help. Determined, I walked up and yanked his ankles further apart to make room for me to hop up onto the bed.
"Don't worry, Mr Wilson," I told him, on all fours with my thonged boybutt wiggling behind me, "I know what might help!" Holding his gaze, I firmly grabbed that pulsing black prick around the base and stuck out my tongue to gingerly lap at his bulging knob. He burbled out something that almost sounded like 'Please, stop' but the paramedics had said he probably wouldn't be able to speak for an hour so I knew I must have been hearing things. His supercharged rod was sooooo thick in my hand; it was going to take a lot of effort just to get it wet enough to slip into my mouth and apply a little oral therapy.
"This is for your own good, Mr Wilson... damn, I never knew you had such a big black cock!" I chastised him as he continued to squirm, taking the opportunity to squeeze the base while kissing all around the shaft with my tongue out. Slicking it up was my first challenge, and it soon became apparent that licking alone wouldn't cut it. I began to spit onto his huge hog - loudly - painting stripes of stringy saliva all over it as he twitched and groaned. It only took a few quick pumps of my hand to spread that froth over all 12 inches. His large balls (which I hadn't really noticed until now) danced comically in his sack with each pump from my fist - so I gave him a few more lubricating strokes for good measure and for my own amusement.
Lowering my wet lips to the tip of that missile, I noticed his eyes frantically flick over to the bedside table where his phone sat. Mr Wilson's bicep flexed and his shoulder lurched a little but he was still unable to move voluntarily. I grinned up at him, "You don't need your phone... if you get into any trouble, I'll call for help, OK?" before plunging my mouth down onto his donkey dong and slurping noisily on it. It was time for some extremely clinical and purely therapeutic mouth to BBC resuscitation!
Focused on his well-being (I mean, I didn't really know HOW to apply oral therapy, but I was doing my best), it suddenly registered that my smooth puck was winking away, neglected between my beachball-sized glutes. Remembering that the schlong of my care recipient was so stiff it didn't need holding, I let go of his hairy dick root to slide a hand down between my legs to my red-hot jockhole. Yanking my thong strap to the side aggressively, I began to rub and slap my damp pink crinkle and moaned with my mouth full of black senior cock.
God it felt good to really abuse my own hole while not making too much noise - I say 'not too much' because even though my mouth was stuffed, now that my puck was getting some attention I was still squealing and moaning around that dick. The only thing louder were the SCHLUUURPS and POPS as my lips repeatedly sucked and released the towering tool in front of me. My twitch was really aggressive today for some reason (damn heatwave) and I remembered a fairly recent unfortunate incident on a wrestling mat (don't even go there) where something unconventional seemed to help. I paused with my pouty pink lips at the very top of that schlong-skyscraper and whimpered up at my captive subject, drooling more bubbly spit down the shaft at the same time. "My tiny pink puck is going berserk, Mr Wilson - it needs to be STRETCHED!"
To support my outburst, I spun around 69-style and rubbed my barely legal hole right in his face. My ring was so rubbery that my middle finger easily slipped all the way in, and I wiggled it around as I went back to slurping loudly on his horse-penis. The sound that came from him was a strange one to come from a man so large - it was almost a squeak of... panic? I know the resuscitation was meant to help poor old Mr Wilson and that my thought-process was probably a little selfish... but the aching need to loosen my wet puck was too strong! And the only thing I could think of to use in my heat-induced haze was... his seemingly permanent erection!
Suctioning my mouth off his monster I surveyed it to make sure it was completely dripping in my jockboy saliva, giving it a few more sloppy licks for good measure, before rotating back around and kneeling on his thighs. I made sure that Mr Wilson's johnson was firmly wedged between my pillowy twin buttocks so that I could sandwich it between them. I realised that my entire lean, lithe whiteboy body was balanced on his muscled black frame. Not one part of me was touching the bed, even though his own body mass caused him to sink deep into the centre of the bed. The contrast between our skin tones was... well, breathtaking.
Raising and lowering my heavy hindquarters, I began to slowly and deliberately grind my pucker against his slippery dong. It was at this time that Mr Wilson began lifting his head and shoulders off the bed. His tongue was slightly hanging out of the side of his mouth and he uttered 'Dooooo it' (but I guess it could have been 'Dooooon't') - Mr Wilson was always about helping people and this time I was the one in need. I gently pushed on his broad, rock-solid pecs with both hands until he settled back down with a whine. "Thank you for understanding, Mr Wilson... my hole needs your big black cock, and I'm gonna have to take it balls deep!"
Bracing myself against his sweat-soaked body, I pushed my jiggling rump up until my needy ring kissed the peak of that mountainous manmeat. Groaning, "Yeeeeessssssssssssss," I willed myself to relax until the entire knob POPPED inside, my sphincter latching tightly around the crown of my new hole-stretcher. Thank God for all that sloppy sucking - sorry, sloppy therapy - the saliva I had so evenly distributed along his dong was now mixing with the natural moisture created by my twitching puck, creating the perfect lube for me to slide down his pole.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes," (and so on) I squealed as my expanding rosebud swallowed up each inch. The semi-relief was instant and my body stiffened, pink nipples getting hard as my fingers grabbed onto Mr Wilson's own juicy nipples on reflex. I sensed movement as Mr Wilson was once again reaching towards the nightstand for his phone but I figured it was way too early for him to regain more feeling and movement in his tired body. My tight but slick puck had begun SQUEEZING his dick like a vice at around the 6-inch mark, as if trying to alert me to the fact that no more cock would fit inside.
But my itch was deeper than 6-inches... so I persisted by bouncing my lily-white jockbutt on the top half of his black prick, feeling my ring open bit by bit until I was well on my way to conquering the entire 12-inch whopper. Mr Wilson's head flopped from side to side, mouth emitting a guttural groan, until his quaking fingers finally did manage to grab his phone. This occurred just as I decided to SLAM my hungry butt down to devour the last thick inch of big black cock. The force of my thrust and the shock of me yelling, "FUCK YES!" as my body spasmed was enough to propel the headboard against the wall, jolting Mr Wilson so that he dropped his phone where it smashed on the hardwood floor.
I wasn't really sure why he needed his phone at that very moment... but in consolation, my puck was now completely stretched around what was probably the BIGGEST cock in the neighbourhood! My young body continued to spasm as the first anal orgasm of the day (yep, the first) hit me hard - I made sure to GRIND my fully-stuffed hole down around the thick base while Mr Wilson could do nothing but watch with wide eyes. I stroked my own pecs, tugging my sensitive nips as my eyes rolled back, enjoying the thrilling release that was only made possible by the black donkey dick in my ass.
Suddenly his beast started to swell, like a water balloon increasing marginally in length and girth, and a louder but equally strained yell came from his slack mouth. Mr Wilson, the kind senior citizen, the retired supermarket mogul, the pillar of our community - was breeding my teenage ass. I mean I didn't mean to state the obvious so forgive me for moaning, "You're cumming inside me, Mr Wilson!" as his 60-something year old babymaker filled me with blast after blast of sperm. Semi-paralysed from my own assgasm, I couldn't avoid any of the powerful, creamy shots as he unwillingly drained his wrinkled black sack into my guts.
But our shared relief (Mr Wilson looked especially relieved) was short-lived... As I came down from my orgasm-high, my pucker clasped at his meatstick again and I realised he was still painfully and unbearably HARD. Was this a side effect of the electric shock? A semi-permanent erection just as the paramedics had warned? I began to rise again, his load so deep inside my body that it made my belly bloat a little. The thought of it made the slick band of my hole lock around his plum-sized knob, refusing to discharge his gargantuan manhood from my unsatisfied insides. Mr Wilson nodded weakly at me as I reached the tip - but my yearning for more got the better of me.
"I need more, Mr Wilson," I whimpered, SMASHING my fleshy rump down to totally engulf his colossal cock once again. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and rasped feebly as I braced my hands against his flexed biceps and bucked like a cowboy at a rodeo. My own tongue flopped from my mouth and my ample pecs shook right in his face as the second assgasm burst inside me. This one was even more satisfying than the first; it made me light-headed but seemed to give my strong thighs a rush of adrenaline to keep bouncing... which was just as well, considering how my insatiable itch continued to blaze inside me.
Still reeling from it, I continued riding that BBC without pause, listening to the SQUEAK, SQUEAK, SQUEAK of Mr Wilson's bedsprings getting the kind of workout they probably hadn't had in decades. An indeterminate amount of time passed. He remained as stiff as a board throughout my second, third and fourth assgasms while I yelped, and squealed, and groaned, and whined, and drooled while reverse-jackhammering his elderly 12-inch phallus. It was only after my fifth (or was it sixth; hard to tell) explosive anal orgasm that things started to slow down.
My latest prostate blowout sent my hole into a frenzied fit of spasmodic undulations. Still squealing at the top of my lungs, the sound of Mr Wilson howling in relief - I mean it could have been something akin to agony but was probably relief - overtook as the loudest sound in the room. His eyes rolled back disturbingly as my overzealous ass drained his jet black sack of its second load. I could practically hear his baby batter being exhaustively suctioned up from his almost-empty balls and gobbled up by my voracious posterior. I was worried about him for a moment and feared he may have 'shuffled off the coil' so to speak... until his eyes rolled back into their normal positions and he began breathing (well, wheezing) again.
Looking back on it now, I suppose I used Mr Wilson's black donkey dick like my own personal dildo for the better part of an hour, until my randy teen jockhole was utterly satisfied. But the heat makes us all do strange things sometimes, and even though the events seemed to snowball out of control, I had only been trying to help! As I pulled my bountiful behind off his finally-deflating dong, I clenched my puffy asslips to delay the inevitable flood of gelatinous goo. Mr Wilson's almost-lifeless body twitched jerkily but his eyes were focused and he managed to groan out, "Tommyyyyyy..." so I knew he was OK.
I dragged myself off the bed and squeezed his foot, grinning widely at him. "You're looking much better, Mr Wilson. The colour is returning to your cheeks and everything. I'll leave you now to rest up but don't hesitate to call if you need anything! Happy to help!"
Whistling, I skipped downstairs to dress and begin walking home, leaving his sweaty naked frame to recover fully without me bothering him. It was still hot as heck outside. Kicking a stone as I walked, I wiped my brow. Geez, being a good Samaritan is hard work... but someone has got to do it!
Carl Hardwick took a bite of his meatball sub and placed it back on the oily paper. He grumbled to himself at his desk as he was wont to do. Not only was he swamped in paperwork but the firm had recently cut their one hour lunch breaks down to 45 minutes. This time was his only reprieve from a steady flow of financials, spread sheets and incessant emails, and damned if he wasn't going to enjoy it!
His eyes returned to his computer monitor as a notification popped up with the subject line 'Irregular activity logged: file available.' Odd, he thought. Most of the spam was blocked by the company's firewall but this unexpected email had slipped through. He opened it and read:
Gaines Home Security Systems Irregular activity logged at 11.17am. Location: Master Bedroom. Surveillance footage captured in HD with audio. File size: 2.4GB. Video length: 43 minutes 12 seconds. Click here to review suspicious activity.
Well, the Hardwicks didn't have a home security system... but it did seem strange for such an email to be received at his work email address. If anything, it was something to distract him from worrying about his son Tommy all day. Carl Hardwick downloaded the file and clicked to open it.
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