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This story, like many of my other stories, has elements that are based on real personal experiences. However, the names and places are all fictitious.
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Simon
Getting Older but not Wiser
By Simon Peter
As men get older, a lot of things change, not only physically, but intellectually and emotionally.
Preferences change. Perspectives change. Even worldviews change.
I never used to like younger guys as sex partners before. I did experience a few when I was in my late twenties. They all proved to be temperamental, somewhat selfish, and basically insecure. There was Ralph, 19, whom I took up with when I was 28. OK. So a 9-year difference is not that much, really. And at 19, you are already an adult. But Ralph? He would whine over almost everything. Even when he is under me and I am pounding away into his tight firm ass, he'd whine about the pillow, about the bed springs, about how much sweat I was dripping on top of him. I mean, really. With a hot cock in your ass, are these thoughts the ones that spring to mind? Maybe this was just Ralph, and I am probably exaggerating, but...
However, now that I am turning fifty, it's those young ones that attract my attention most. I love their cockiness, their youth, their open vitality.
There is this kid, around 20 years old, a college kid, who serves at the club restaurant where I am a member. The clientele are basically my age, in all sorts of businesses, boring as hell, with protruding bellies and dirty jokes. I have made a few acquaintances, but I tend to keep to myself when I go there for exercise and later a latte in the club cafeteria. My focus is always on those kids, the cleaners, the waiters, the assistants on the courts or in the exercising facilities. But Ronald is the one that has caught my attention the most.
First, Ronald has this kind of intellectual look that I love. He wears eyeglasses; his features are masculine, cheekbones, lips, eyebrows. He has a normal walk, a bit jaunty but not in an aggressive or a look-at-me, showy way. He is slim and tall and carries himself beautifully. He is warm and always has a smile on his face. I love it when he serves me my latte. Very cordial, very young, exuding health and vigor that make my heart pound and my balls tingle.
I am sitting at one of the tables in the cafeteria, sipping my coffee, and watching Ronald, as usual. I am also lost in all kinds of thoughts, not all of which are about sex, except for the ones which are centered on Ronald and his movements between tables. He catches me staring at him a couple of times and responds with a warm smile, so natural, so cute. I have no idea whether he has any inkling of my desire for him. I don't think he cares a lot, only that I am a member of the club and a customer who he must keep happy if he is to keep his job. But there is a bit more to it than that. Something inside me tells me that the kid likes me. Call it intuition. Call it wishful thinking. Whatever.
"Another latte, sir?" Ronald comes up to me with his warm smile, carrying an empty tray. He is dressed in the club uniform for workers: a white polo shirt, open at the neck, a pair of jeans-type slacks in dark blue, covered with a white waist-apron, and a pair of black sneakers.
"Well, thank you, Ronald. Yes, please," I return the smile. I do not really want another latte, but how could I say no? The kid seems to be very willing to please.
Ronald collects my empty cup and saunters to the bar corner. A few minutes later, he is back with the latte, placing it on the table in front of me. All the while I am considering how I can get him more interested in me. What kind of conversation should I start with him? There seems to be nothing in common between us. I am a senior editor in the local newspaper, The Globe, and he is a college kid. I am 50; he is 20! "Thanks, Ronald."
"My pleasure, sir."
Before Ronald walks away, I clear my throat. "So you go to college here, Ronald?" I start what I hope would evolve into something interesting instead of a clipped, short-answered dialog.
"Yes, sir," Ronald rests the tray against his hip.
"What are you majoring in?" I ask, trying my best to sound genuinely interested, not just making passing conversation. I want the kid to become involved.
"English, sir." His expression turns a bit more serious, the smile disappearing, replaced by an anxious look.
"You don't seem to be too happy about that," I comment.
Ronald shuffles from one foot to another. "Well, sir, it's like this." He takes a deep breath, and I nod my head encouragingly. "I love my major," Ronald continues, "but there doesn't seem to be too many work opportunities for it. I am worried that I would end up being just a teacher or something."
"Nothing wrong with teaching," I smile at him, although I know that teaching is not a career that most young people aim for. "But, my boy," I go on and I notice Ronald's eyebrows raised, "a lot of companies value English majors and some even require that they hire them even if the business is not teaching."
"I don't follow, sir."
"Companies such as banks and insurance, for example," I explain, "hire English majors to draft and check on contracts, policies, general memos, company procedures, and countless other things that require perfect English. Take my business: we would definitely hire an English graduate at the newspaper to make sure there are no language errors."
The look on Ronald's face changes from sad and apologetic to hopeful and interested. Ah, the innocence of youth! I suggest that he drop by the newspaper and apply for an editing job. Inwardly, I know that I will pull strings to get him some kind of employment. I know that this is an underhanded way of getting into his pants. But, what the heck! The kid is hot as hell and I do want to get into his pants.
Ronald does get a part-time job at the paper as a junior editor, and he is seconded to me. I am thrilled.
"It's good to see you without the apron, Ronald," I beam as I welcome him into my office, my eyes roving over his front body, glorifying the young slim shape, the flat stomach, the bulge in his jeans.
"Thank you, sir," he beams back, full of energy and excitement.
"Since we will be working together, you can drop the 'sir' part. Go with just Sam. OK?"
"OK, er... Sam," Ronald's smile stretches wider making him so much cuter, and my heart skips a beat.
It takes me more than four weeks to bring up enough courage to make a pass at Ronald. Every day, I am tormented by (a) lusting over a young kid and (b) thinking of a way to hit on this young kid. I know, I know. This is sick. It sounds so predatory. But Ronald is an adult, a very young one, but an adult nevertheless. And it's not like I am forcing him into anything.
"Looking nice today, Ronald," I greet him as he walks into my office with an editorial draft that he is supposed to go over.
The look on Ronald's face is puzzled. For a moment, he just stands there, just inside the door, and then he looks down at his own body and back up to me.
"Thanks, Sam, but this is how I have looked since I started here."
I make it a point of staring at his crotch for a couple of seconds, and then shifting up to meet his eyes.
"Very nice," I repeat, my voice turning a bit husky, not leaving much doubt as to what I meant. Now is the time where Ronald throws the papers in his hand onto my desk and walks out screaming sexual harassment, or something to that effect. But this doesn't happen.
Ronald approaches the desk slowly, not breaking eye contact with me, places the papers on the desk neatly, and very pointedly moves his eyes down to my crotch, keeps them there, and whispers, "You too, Sam. You look nice, too."
I feel that I can't breathe. I have just hit on the kid and he has responded surprisingly positively. He knows exactly what I have alluded to and he is smart enough to return my greeting without actually committing himself to anything. Not yet, anyway.
After what seemed to be an eternity, Ronald looks up from my crotch back to my eyes, his hip leaning at my desk, his hand resting on the top of the desk where he has left the edited sheets. He looks so deliciously attractive, a little bit cocky as well, that I can't help myself from reaching out and placing my hand on top of his. He leans towards me, his eyes closed, and I kiss him. Lightly. On the lips. And it is like thousands of volts hitting my insides. I pull back and try to control my breathing and my shaking.
"Wow," Ronald exclaims softly as he opens his eyes, biting on his lower lip, letting out a long withheld breath, and grabbing my hand, squeezing.
Hit! I am going to get laid.
But how has this happened? Why is a young, attractive kid like Ronald attracted to a much older me? The more I study him, the more impossible the situation becomes. Ronald is really a hunk of a guy, now that I am looking at him from a different perspective. Right here. Right in front of me. His bulge is decidedly larger than it normally is. Could it be that this kid has just developed an erection from the touch of my lips on his? Or the squeeze of my hand? Unabashedly, I move my hand from his directly onto his crotch. Instinctively, Ronald arches back, pushing his hips forward. And, yes, there is definitely an erection inside those jeans, and a big one from my first groping. I hear a deep moan emitting from Ronald's beautiful lips. He is breathing faster as I slowly rub sideways along the hard erection, feeling the throbbing inside the fabric.
"Sam, oh, Sam, yes," Ronald whispers, grinding on the palm of my hand. "Sam, this feels good, oh, God, yes."
I am hard also. Ronald looks down with half-open eyes to watch me use my other hand to rub my own erection. It feels like we are frozen in this position forever: this hunk of a kid grinding his hardness against the palm of my hand and me groping and fondling my own cock inside my pants.
Ronald, a few inches taller than I am, bends down and kisses me, not lightly like the first kiss, but with his tongue forcing my lips to open. I receive him hungrily, sucking on his wet tongue, actually slurping on it, my mind in total ecstasy but also mixed with confusion. This is a kid I am making out with. A kid! My mind is reeling between the sensation of groping this young stud and the 30-year difference in age.
We break and take deep breaths. I remove both hands from the two erections. I watch Ronald undo his jeans as he leans back on the edge of my desk, and he fishes out his cock. I inhale at the sight of the youngster's tool: a full 8 inches (20 cm), cut, beautifully mushroomed, and throbbing with desire, majestically erected upwards, fuzzy balls hanging low.
I sit on my desk chair and roll in towards him, attracted by the magnetism of his thick, young cock. I take his rod between my lips, tentatively, looking up at his beautiful face. His dick feels impossibly big, stretching my lips, so full of life and energy, so lustful. Ronald thrusts into my mouth and my pursing lips slide further under the ridge of the round knob. A couple of inches and I start to feel the gagging.
Closing my eyes, I breathe through my nose, forcefully trying to drive the gagging away, desperate to take him down all the way to the base. The knob feels like a hot rod against my throat, thick and insistent. I want to take in the whole length, and to even continue swallowing the silken pubes, further onto the fuzzy balls, to have the whole of him inside my mouth, to eat him, totally.
Ronald holds my head with both hands and thrusts. My breathing through my nose becomes more difficult as it fills with snot. I am able to control the gagging, but there are probably three of four more inches to go before I can reach the thick patch of pubic hair encircling the base of the kid's cock.
Goaded by his thrusting, I keep going down onto the shaft. My jaws start to ache, I am out of breath, but I keep going. No way would I quit on this gorgeous tool. It feels as if my jaws are dislodged to be able to take all the thickness of his cock shaft. As soon as I reach the base I press my lips hard around it, my tongue flicking up and down the shaft. I can feel my spit and snot dribbling into his pubes. Still holding my head, Ronald intensifies his face-fuck. My God! Every time he pulls out-and I quickly take a deep breath-I feel emptiness, soon to be filled with the engorged cock shaft, the head sliding into my throat, filling me with his youth.
It doesn't take much for Ronald to shoot his load down my throat. I swallow hungrily, grabbing at the bobbing ball sacks. Each spurt makes his rod thicken and pulsate. I can't taste his hot juice, but I can feel the squirts hitting the back of my throat and sliding down to my stomach. I swallow as hard and as fast as I can, but I still feel some cum seeping out of my mouth. Ronald's fingers dig into the back of my ears as he shoots, never letting go of my head, controlling the face-fucking to his tempo and force. All of this is turning me on even more. To feel this kid taking full control of using my face to his pleasure makes want to shoot gallons into my under shorts. I almost do. But I force myself to sort of keep it in although I could feel some wetness inside my pants.
Ronald withdraws from my pursing lips. Miraculously, his young dick is still vertically erect, the slit still emitting a few drops of white cream. I reach for those precious drops with my tongue, now being able to really taste Ronald's juice. Salty. Thick and creamy. Kind of viscous-y. Hot as fuck! His face-fucking has made me extremely horny. Face-fucking. Wow! How then would the ass-fucking be like? Ass fucking? ASS fucking? Am I really thinking about this young monster of a cock plowing into my ass? My ass? I am usually more of a top and I love to fuck a hot, tight ass. But as this moment, gazing at the young rod, all I want is for it to enter me, to fill me, to make me young again, to shoot its youth into me.
With a start and a pounding heart, I realize that the door to my office is not locked. Shit! I just blew a guy with the possibility of anyone barging in. Fuck me! What a risk! "Ron," I whisper, my voice shaking. "Baby, let me lock the door."
Ronald smiles mischievously, slowly stroking his wet dick. "You mean you want more of this, Sam?" he asks as he points his hard cock at me, inviting, lustful. Oh, yes, and yes. Fuck, YES! I walk to the door and lock it, and return as I undo my pants. By the time I get to Ronald, my pants are already around my ankles, my dick out of the fly of my under shorts. He turns me around, pressing himself on me. I feel the hardness and wetness on my hairy, flabby ass cheeks as he grinds on me. I start to brace myself for a fuck. By a hot, young stud. By a hung stud! Slowly, Ronald slides down my undershorts exposing my ass. His cock throbs on my backside.
Suddenly, I freeze. I realize with a shock that I don't have protection; neither do I have any lubricating gel. Oh, man. Why would I keep condoms and gel in my office? Why would anyone keep fucking condoms and gel in their office? Ronald's hard cock is now inside my crack, rubbing in and out between my thighs. I press hard on him. He moans, wrapping his hands around my waist, shaking at his heavy breathing on my neck, his lips on my skin.
I turn my head sideways. Ronald is beautiful. And Ronald wants to fuck. Without any further consideration, I irresponsibly throw caution out of the window and bend over. The cock head is prodding my hole. The wetness from my spit and his first load makes him slide easily inside my crack, but through the fuck hole? That's another kettle of fish. I am tight, not used to getting fucked, let alone by a monster cock. His thrust into me is hard and insistent. The kid wants in. I am grateful that I have showered this morning although I habitually take my shower in the evening. I haven't gone to the bathroom since. Ronald can fuck me without getting grossed out by my wanting to dump anything out of my ass. But the trick is penetration.
The second I relax my fuck hole, however, Ronald enters me. I automatically squeeze my rim muscle around the invading cock and I stifle a scream. The pain is excruciating. But with his hands around my waist, he pulls me onto him and maintains the force of his thrust, the cock shaft stretching my ass. One strong push and Ronald is deep inside me. I can feel the cock head pressing against my insides. My knees grow weak. I can hear my own moans. With his cock buried to the hilt, Ronald bends over me and starts to nibble my ear, whispering stuff that I can barely hear. The pain makes me weak. I feel as if I were split in two. I could be bleeding. He could be tearing my ass in half. It certainly feels like it. I want him out. I don't think I can take the fucking that I know is soon to start.
"Oh, Sam," he moans. My heart pounds loudly, my knees shake uncontrollably, my ass burns painfully.
"So deliciously tight, Sam. Oh, my God, I wanted to fuck you like this the first minute I laid my eyes on you. I jacked off in the shower this morning visualizing my dick in your ass. God, Christ, my dick is inside you, Sam. Oh, Fuck, I am actually inside you baby," and on and on.
Ronald holds still inside me, waiting for my fuck tunnel to accommodate his thick tool. I am shivering all over, trying to picture myself, a mature 50-year-old geezer, bent over my own desk, with a hot kid grinding on my ass, his cock buried deep inside me. I grind back on him, fighting back the burning pain.
Suddenly, I decide that I want to see him as he fucks me. I want to look at his young face. I want to run my hands over his smooth chest. I want to feel the muscles of his abdomen tighten and relax as he fucks. I want to look down and watch his thick pubes and his beautiful cock as it slides in and out of me.
"What?" Ronald asks, a little bewildered when his cock slides out of my ass and I turn around. "Am I hurting you, Sam? What is it?" He has this boyish, concerned look on his face that makes me want to cry.
I open my legs and wrap them around his waist, pulling him back onto me. "I want to watch you, Ronnie, as you fuck me."
His concern turns to amusement. He fists his dick and re-inserts it into my waiting, eager and burning hole. The feeling of getting fucked has more or less been pleasurable for me although I have invariably done the fucking myself, but this was way beyond pleasure. This was ecstasy. The boy sliding into me is beautiful beyond description. My hands roam all over his chest and I can feel the beginnings of sweat. I raise myself up from the desk and reach for his nipples with my mouth. I move from one to the other, licking, sucking, nibbling, biting. He moans and thrusts deep, his manhood rubbing in and out of me, a few inches at a time. I press my feet on his butt cheeks, making him go deeper. I reach out both hands and wrap them around his neck, bringing his face down to mine.
We kiss. He fucks. I moan. I feel dizzy under him.
"Yea, Ronnie, baby, fuck my ass," I groan into his mouth. I find that this kind of talk makes him more eager, his thrusts harder, faster, deeper. I continue: "Stretch my ass, baby. Go deeper. Oh, I love your cock. You fill me so much. Ronnie, yes, Ronnie. Breed me, my boy. Fill me with your hot juice." I sound like a bitch. I sound like a fucking bitch in heat! Me... begging for a kid's cock. And begging I do, over and over, with every thrust.
Ronald shoots inside me. His cock flexes with every squirt and I squeeze hard on the base of his shaft with my rim muscle, milking him. He cums and cums. His mouth is planted on mine and he moans into my throat. He pulls his dick out of my hole, rubs the cum seeping out of me back into my crack, and enters me again. His cum lubricates me further. He fucks me more, and I realize that he is going for a second load.
And that is exactly what Ronald does. This time, I start to enjoy the pleasure of being fucked. The burning has lessened, and the nerves in my behind are starting to send amazing sensations to my brain. Finally, he pulls out after dumping his load and drops himself on my desk chair with a sigh. I raise myself off the desk and stand in front of him. He smiles and I melt. My cock has gone limp with the hard fucking and the pain but my nuts are full. I need release.
Ronald stands, pulls his jeans up, shoving his cock, semi erect, inside.
"Sam, you are amazing. Can we do this again?"
I nod my head vigorously.
"When?"
"My place, this evening after work," I manage to say, my voice shaking. I still can't stand on my feet; my knees are too weak to support my trembling bosy.
Ronald looks down at my limp dick hanging out of the fly of my undershorts. "We need to do something about that dick, Sam. Don't you think?"
With that, Ronald leaves. I realize that I must look so stupid, so weird, with my mouth half open, my eyes half shut, my limp cock hanging out of my undershorts, my pants around my ankles, and my ass seeping man cum down my hairy thighs. And... the door is now unlocked, with me staring at it, already missing Ronald! Leaning back in my office chair, my hands behind my head, my eyes closed, dressed and trying to recuperate the fuck session, I visualize Ronald topping me. Am I crazy? I still can't understand how this has happened. The burning of my ass tells me that it has happened. The soreness of my jaws tells me it has happened. The taste of man cum in my mouth is a definite proof that it has happened. But I still feel as if it has been an erotic dream, or a day fantasy.
And what about tonight? Ronald is coming over. My heart races. I should drop by the drugstore and get some condoms. It has been so reckless of me to allow for Ronald to fuck me bareback and dump his load inside me. I have no idea where this kid's dick has been, what hole it has plundered, what disease it could have squirted into me. I am usually very careful about my health and my sexual relationships. Always have been. Until this morning. What has gotten into me is not explainable, not justifiable, actually fucking stupid for a man of my age. But Ronald's seed is already inside me. No need for condoms, then. If I were to catch something, I have already caught it, haven't I? Ronald's sperm is inside my blood. Talk about being old and wise.
So, no condoms. I get to my place without condoms, but with some pain-dulling gel since I know that Ronald will be fucking me and my ass is sore. I get into the shower, making sure that my hole is rubbed clean. I want to be as sweet as a lily for him. We are going to have comfortable sex, not the hasty, urgent fuck that has occurred in the office earlier. Why do I care so much? Well, for one thing, this is my first time with a young hunk like Ronald. And it has been totally unexpected: getting fucked on my office desk, legs up, ass exposed and ploughed by young dick.
Ronald is here. I am in a pair of jeans cutoffs, sans underwear, and an open neck polo shirt, my chest hair showing. Opening the door, my jaw drops. Ronald is framed in all his glorious beauty at my doorstep, holding a bouquet of red roses. What the fuck! Roses? Fucking red roses. He has a sort of stupid smile on his face, expectant for my reaction. All I can find to say is: "Roses, Ron?"
His smile disappears, replaced by a look of consternation. "You don't like roses, Sam?" The boy is on the verge of tears and my heart goes out to him.
I glance at the bouquet, quickly counting thirteen roses. "I love roses, Ron. But there are thirteen of them."
Ronald looks down at the bouquet, and then back up at me. "The thirteenth rose is for good luck."
"And the other twelve?" I try to sound flippant.
His look is intense and serious now. "These are twelve ways to say that I love you, Sam."
I almost faint. I pull him inside, kicking the door closed behind him, and hug him tightly, our lips meeting, already moaning into each other's mouth. But I quickly break away. Love? The kid loves me? No way. That's not how it is supposed to be. One fuck and he loves me? I can't raise his expectations too high. I am flattered, of course, but love for me is not an option. It just doesn't make any sense.
"Ronnie, you don't really love me," I say with a shaking voice, my heart pounding up to my throat.
"I do, Sam, oh God, I do love you." He places the bouquet down on the entrée table and pulls me back to him, bending his slim figure down onto me, and we kiss. He presses his full young, hot body on mine, his hands caressing my hair, our tongues probing, our lips sucking, his bulge pressing on my belly.
I have mixed emotions. Ronald can't be in love with me. Call it infatuation. Call it youth vigor. Call it lust.
Call it whatever you like. But it is not love. I have never been in love, myself. I've been in and out of relationships, some intense, some not. This is different, I have to confess. But love? I don't think so.
Ronald's kissing is passionate. He seems insatiable. I can feel his strength as he holds me in his arms. I am the older man here. I am supposed to be the one to call the shots. But for the first time in my life, I feel that my "lover" is in total control. The kid is a kid, for Chrissakes, but he makes me feel so vulnerable that I totally give in to him, forgetting my age, my maturity, my supposed wisdom, all of this being replaced by young passion. I am 20 years old-I feel like I am 20 years old-held tightly by my towering lover. I just melt in his arms like a teenage girl.
"Let me get a vase or something for the roses," I reluctantly break away from Ronald. Should I let this kid get so much into me? How will this affect our relationship at the office? No one knows that I am gay. I have been able to keep my sexual preferences to myself. I have always been careful not to "shit in my own backyard," so to speak. But Ronald is irresistible. I am confused. Can I say that I love this kid back? I don't know. I could, though. Why not? He says he's in love with me. And why not? But I just don't know.
With shaking hands, I find a glass vase and fill it with water, placing the roses in it. They look lovely.
Ronald walks over and stands behind me as I arrange the roses, counting them again. I feel his erection pressed on my lower back, his hands around my waist, his lips on the side of my neck. Images of couples in movies jump into my head, where the man brings flowers to his lady friend, and holds and caresses her as she arranges them in a vase. But I'm not a lady friend! I love the feeling of his body grinding on me, his lips on my skin, but I don't like the idea of taking the role of the "woman" in this relationship.
I turn around and he presses on me again, his erection is now pressing on mine as he bends his knees a little. As he moves in to kiss me, I place my hands on his chest. I feel the young muscles ripple through his shirt, the nipples poking through the soft fabric.
"Ron," I tell him, looking straight into his beautiful eyes, noticing the long eyelashes. "I'm not your girl."
What the hell am I saying? The look of hurt on his face as I say this breaks my heart. I kiss him lightly on the corner of his mouth. "We can make love," I continue. "And you are one hot fucker. But I am not a girl. You are fucking a guy, a much older man, by the way."
"I know, Sam," he whispers, still moving in for the kiss. "And I love you as a man, as a much older man.
You are my man and I want to fuck you... no, no, I want to make love to you. I want to go deep inside you, to feel our bodies merge. I want to fill you with my love. In time, you will love me too, Sam. I will make you love me, old man." Ronald takes a deep breath, his hands on my hips. "I never wanted a girl, Sam. I want you."
"Let's make love, then," I say.
We undress in the living room between hugs and kisses and grindings. I am dissolved by the beauty of his young body, by his large man cock, by the muscles, by the vigor, by youth. I respond with passion also. I do want this kid inside me regardless of my sore ass. I want his huge cock to pound into me, forever, to bring me back my youth.
Ronald is on top of me. I give in. He wants to be in control and I am starting to love it. He is young but manly and he treats me with such love that I can't let him not have his way. His body plasters onto mine, our nakedness melting into each other. I can feel his huge cock pressing on my erection, rubbing up and down. My own dick is not to laugh at, but it is nowhere near the size or the beauty of Ronald's.
He spreads my legs using his knees, his cock sliding down into my crack, our mouths glued. I reach for the gel tube blindly and feel the soreness in my ass. His cock head is already there, pressing. I place one hand on his smooth chest and push him a few centimeters up, handing him the gel. He kneels and squirts some on his throbbing cock. The mushroom head is frightfully big and my heart races in anticipation of the pain. He applies some more gel on my ass with his finger, and then he enters. Oh my God! I'm split in half again. He is so fucking huge. As he thrusts in, the knob penetrating, he gets back on top of me, his body covering mine. I grunt and moan. Rotating his hips, he manages to get the full head inside my rim muscle, going through my butt cheeks.
"Hurts?" He asks me as he licks my lower lip.
Damn fuck it hurts, I think. But I grab his butt cheeks with my hands and draw him further into me. The shaft slides in and I almost die. The pain is unbearable. The fucking gel is doing nothing to lessen the pain. But I glorify in it. I want it. I crave for all the pain that my young fucker is causing me. The hugeness of his rod, its hardness, its length, all of it drives me mad. I squeeze on the invading shaft with my burning rim muscle. Ronald moans and drives full blast, his balls slapping my butt cheeks. My fingers dig into his muscled, firm butt. He is totally buried inside me. He starts moving slowly, pulling the whole shaft out until just the ridge of his cock head is inside me, and then thrusts in, sliding, sliding, pushing my insides deeper, deeper, until I can feel my intestines reaching up to my throat. He fills me.
His cock reaches every turn, every corner, every small cavity of my fuck hole and further pushing at my insides. His weight bears down on my body, plastering me, controlling me. I can barely move under him.
Ronald's tempo increases. My ass burns something fierce; his lower abdomen rubs on my dick, keeping me erect. His lips caress my mouth, my face, my eyes. As he thrusts into me, going faster now, he slips his mouth onto my neck, his wet lips pressed onto my sensitive skin. He forces my hands off his butt and pins them stretched up above my head. My whole body shivers. I become both numb and full with sensations at the same time. The soreness of my ass slowly turns to wonderful lust. I push back onto him, trying to get more of this kid's cock into me.
Ronald's fucking technique is amazing, turning every centimeter of my body into fully-charged nerves, sending electricity throughout my nervous system, my muscles into jelly. He keeps whispering and moaning: how much he loves me, how much he adores me, how horny I make him, how delicious is my skin, how perfect is my fuck hole for his dick. Between each endearing whisper, he emits sounds: ffshshsh as he pulls out, uhhhh as thrusts back in, ffshshsh... Uhhhh...
I can't estimate the time between his penetration and the feeling of cum buildup in my balls. All I know is that with a whimpering scream, my legs spread wide, my arms pinned forcefully over my head, I shoot a huge load onto my belly and chest as his young body rubs up and down my balls and cock shaft. I squirt and squirt. Ronald feels my cum under him and thrusts as deep as he could get and stays in there, just grinding his crotch on my butt, waiting for me to finish. He looks down between our bodies and watches my ejaculation.
"Yea, Sam, oh man, yes, shoot your hot cream. Ahhhh, it feels hot and fucking sticky, Sam. That's a lot of jizz, old man."
And I shoot more and more, not even touching myself. He releases my arms and I move both of my hands onto his face cheeks and bring his mouth to mine, pressing my lips against his, my dick pulsating with every squirt of my interminable ejaculation.
Finally, I settle, breathing heavily. Ronald's cock is throbbing inside me. Still kissing me, he resumes his fucking. His thrusts become harder, tougher, more intense. There is no more the gentle sliding in and out. There is more of pounding, more like revenge, more like how dare I shoot my load before he does, more like punishment. And my reaction? Extreme bliss. His endearments are replaced by his ffshshsh...ahhhh..., more pronounced, louder, more urgent, more insistent.
With a loud grunt, Ronald arches his back, his fingers digging deep into my raised thighs, and freezes, his cock buried all the way to the hilt inside me. I feel the shaft base thicken.
"I cum, Sam," he wheezes, his eyes shut. "Sam, Sam, I'm uhhhhh cumming. Fshshsh uhhhh cumming."
I feel warm semen filling me. He is shooting inside me. I can actually feel the bursts of his young cream hitting my insides with force. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth wide open, his neck muscles taught, his smooth chest glistening with sweat, the abs contracting deliciously with every squirt coming out of his balls. I squeeze my sore ass muscle around the base of his thick cock shaft as it pulses with every stream of cum that shoots out of it into me.
Finally, he collapses on top of me with a heave, taking in long breaths, licking my neck, the cheeks of my face, my lips, my eyes. He is still inside me, flexing. The sensations shooting up from my ass and insides make me shiver all over under him. I have never been fucked this way before, and I doubt that I will ever be fucked this way, ever.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Ronald starts to move in and out of my ass, fucking, again! Oh, my God! My ass is on fire, but the slickness from his semen and the stretching I have already endured make the second fucking more intense than the first, if that is ever possible. Like a never-tiring, never-winding down machine, this young stud fucks me. Again. Deep and fast. I'm totally pinned under him. The only movement I can make is trying to constrict my rim muscle around his moving cock, milking him. When he cums, it's another full load. I don't believe that my fuck cavity can take all this man semen. His sperm must be swimming up my bowels into my stomach up to my throat.
The sound of his cock sliding out of me is a sweet plop. He rolls off and lies next to me, his beautiful flat stomach and belly, rising and falling, his smooth skin covered with sweat, his cock and crotch glistening with his cum. I am unable to move. All my muscles are screaming from the intensity of this double fuck. No words can describe the sensations of my fuck hole.
"Man, Ron, what a fuck machine," I am barely able to whisper to him. He turns sideways facing me and runs his hand on my hairy chest.
"You're amazingly incredible, Sam," he whispers back. "I never thought it would be like this."
"What would be like this? Fucking me?"
"No, Sam," he snickers. "Fucking ass."
"You mean to tell me," I gaze into his eyes, incredulous, "you mean to say that I am your first fuck?"
Ronald nods his head, a sort of a stupid smile on his cute face.
"No way!" I exclaim. "No fucking way, Ron." He nods some more, the same smile plastered on his sweet, young face.
"No," I continue. "Ron, this can't be your first fuck. I mean, really, you fucked me like a pro, man."
Ronald laughs. Oh, he is so cute. "Sam, you are my first lover."
"Not even pussy?"
"Not even."
"Incredible. The way you fucked. The way you penetrated that huge fuck tool of yours into my tight ass. It takes technique, Ron. I just can't believe it."
"Sam," he reaches for my lips with his long, slender fingers. "It takes love, not technique. You are my lover, and I was making love to you. I wasn't fucking. I was making love, baby."
I am speechless. I want this boy. I want him for me forever. And if this means that I am falling in love with him, after a couple of fucks, so be it. Ronald loves me and I ... I ... ok, yes, fine, I love Ronald! I bend over him and start licking down his chest. I can taste his salty sweat and my salty cum. I nibble on his nipples, moving from one to the other, and then down his flat stomach, his belly, to the engorged, glistening knob of his cock. I take him between my lips, reveling over the tastes. He is still semi-erect and pulsating. I suck hungrily. He bucks into my mouth, his hands pressing on the back of my head. I feel his cock lengthening, thickening in my mouth. I move to his fuzzy balls, licking them, feeling them bob up and down under my lips. I fist his dick. Ronald is hard. I stroke him slowly, the shaft slick with spit and sweat and cum. Down his inner thighs. Hairy. Muscled. Young. Licking and slurping I go lower to his legs, also hairy, also muscled, and oh-so-young. His feet. I suck on every toe, still stroking him.
Slowly I retrace the route up to my goal: his beautiful rod. I resume my sucking. So silky, so hard.
Throbbing. He bucks faster. My eyes are glued to his smooth belly and stomach, watching the muscles constrict. His juice hits my throat and I swallow. His moans are filled with intense passion.
"I love you, Ronald," I breathe as I let go of his cock and slide up to him, not believing I am actually saying this.
"Oh, Sam, Sam, Sam. I love you."
It doesn't take Ronald long to ride me again, doggy, sideways, on my back, on my belly, his cock veins full of young blood, rock hard. I sit on him, facing him, and watch his dick disappear up, up, up, as my balls rest in his young pubes. He holds my butt cheeks and lifts me, and then he fucks me. He breeds me. And again, he fucks me and breeds me. I can't believe that these young balls have so much juice in them. I just lie under him, against him, on top of him, trying to keep up with his youthful vigor, knowing that I will be walking funny for quite some time. His cock doesn't seem to tire or to get soft.
And who am I to complain? My wisdom and maturity? To hell with that.
Give me youth. Youth in love. Anytime. Any day. Ronald has made me young. Unbelievable but true.
When he leaves, his smell covers my body, filling my nostrils, and I inhale him deep. I can hardly wait for him to return, to fuck me. I am desperately in love.