Copyright 2005 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
Please note: this story depicts sex between males. If this offends you or is illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further.
All names, characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
Different strokes for different folks. Least that's what some wise-ass bro used to say on TV when I was a kid. Like some guys, they like a hunky firm-assed stud, muscular and toned, maybe a couple tats. Other weirdoes like a drag queen, a chick with a dick. Other fellows, they got a thing for bears, big old beard, hairy chest, hairy asshole; they don't even mind a beer belly, - gives em somethin to jostle. Then of course there's the twink-lovers. They cruise the streets for young men who say they're 18 but don't look it. Wet behind the ears; smooth shaved; pretty face (if you ignore the pimples) and prettier ass. Then of course there's the Nambla crowd. 18's way too old for em. They likes em little and scrawny and tight-assed and "innocent" and maybe virgin. Then course there's some dudes who goes for snatch, but I aint one of em.
Nope, me, I'm not like any of em dudes. I gets my jollies gettin off on old farts. You heard me, geezers in their sixties, seventies, even older sometimes.
Hi, I'm Patrick, well, my baptismal certificate says `Pasquale' but no one gets away with callin me that. You hear me?! I'm 32, work out at the Y regular, so I got a killer bod, if I do say so myself. 5'10, 187, all muscle. Big fat schlong, 7 1/2 inch, cut, set off by a nice lush jet black bush. When I go paradin around the sauna at the Y buck naked, I love the way guys look me over. I could have my pick of any asshole in the place easily. But fuckin em would be doin em a service and that's not my style. I do what benefits me. And for that I heads down to Chamber Park 3 or 4 times a week when I gets off from work at the auto parts store.
What I does is I sits on a park bench, legs spread apart, wearin my tight wife beater that shows off my muscles real good and my tighter jeans that leaves no doubt bout the merits of my package. Most afternoons there's at least a few old-timers sittin around, lookin bored like. They finished the mornin paper hours ago; they ate their bag lunch and fed the crumbs to the pigeons; maybe if they was lucky they found someone to play checkers with, but mostly they just sit. I glance around and it never takes me long to catch some old guy's eyes. Typical, he's in his seventies, little overweight, hasn't shaved in a few days, wearin a sweater even though it's like 85, gray pants all wrinkled and stained, loafers `cause he can't tie his shoes too good no more, maybe has a four-toed cane. I know he's lookin at me and thinkin that forty years ago, he looked this good, even though he never did. Then I gives im a nice friendly smile and usually he's so naive, he smiles back. I keeps lookin at im, maybe gives im a little wave like, then maybe rub my pecs, and watch what he does. By this time, he either turns away and pretends to look across the park at some broad, or else his eyes is glued on me. If that's it, I knows I got my mark. So's I puts on my whoreboy routine. I licks my lips and I adjusts my package and I keeps on smilin at im and I winks my eye. Then usual he picks his ass up, grabs his cane and starts totterin my way, only he tries to look like he don't need the cane.
"Hi, there, kid," he says.
"Hi, there, young fella," I says. That always makes em smile.
"Mind if I join you?" he asks.
"Free country," I says. So he parks his ass next to mine and we both sits in silence a little. I know he's feelin a little uncomfortable, not sure what to do or say next, and I loves to make im stew in his own juices a little before I proceeds.
"So you live round here?" I asks.
"Building right there," he points out. Most of these geezers never venture more than a few hundred feet from home. Fraid they'll get emselves lost. "How bout you?"
"Oh, I just got off the bus this afternoon," I lies. I been here ten years. "Is there some cheap motel near here I could stay tonight? I don't gots a lotta money. Gotta find me a job tomorrow."
He of course believes me. Never questions why I don't has no luggage or what. "Why, yeah, there's a nice little Motel 6 around the corner." Like surprise, I knew that.
"Hey, that's neat. Hope it aint too spensive." I bait my hook.
"Well, now, look here. You seems like a nice young man. I'd like to do you a favor. Fact, maybe we can do each other a favor."
"No shit, oh excuse me, Sir." I always asks em to excuse my first use of em words, like I respect my elders, ha!
"He he, that's ok, young man. I've heard worse. I'm an old sailor (or soldier or marine or whatever he wants to pretend he was.)
"Thank you. So what kind of a favor?" I asks.
At this point, the old man makes one of two offers.
Scenario 1: If he's widowed, he might suggest I spend the night at his place. "Be nice to have some company. Kinda lonely knockin round in those rooms myself since Edith passed on." More likely Edith left twenty years ago with some stud in his forties, and the old jerk never saw it comin. He's too insecure to try datin again but doesn't mind an occasional blowjob from a prostitute on the corner or a whoreboy he might find in the park.
"But, I can't pay you nothin," I says naive-like.
"That's ok, we'll work somethin out." At this point, the old man usually rubs his dick, like he wants to tell me somethin he can't put in words.
I looks like I'm intrigued and like maybe I understand. "Oh, yeah, we can work somethin out." Then we gets up, and I take his elbow, real patronizin like, and we head off toward his home.
Or, scenario 2: He's got someone at home, maybe his old lady or maybe he lives with a son or daughter, who he can't stand. So then he might suggest that he could lend me the dough for the motel.
"But, I don't knows when I can pay you back," I says naive-like. And then the scene plays itself out the same way `cept this time we go totterin over to Motel 6, where he hands me a couple fifties and tells me to go into the office alone, cause then we don't need to splain who he is, (and of course he don't want to be seen with me). And I goes in and says Hi to my good friend Jake at the desk, and we jokes bout catchin another old fish. And he gives me the room on the end for $39. And I goes back out and lets on like there's no change to speak of.
Now either way, as I heads off with im, either to his place or the motel, I grills im bout his family and his friends and acts like I gives a shit bout his pathetic life when really all I's doin is gettin some info I can use later. When I gets im alone after while, then I starts to change the script.
"Now, kid, why don't you and I get more comfortable. Let me, um, take your shirt off," he stammers.
"OK, you old shit-head. This is how it goes." I says. And course he looks real startled to hear me talk like that. "First off, you don't call me kid. You call me Sir. You got that?"
"B-b-but," his eyes are all scared like and he's startin to shake and I laugh thinkin he's gonna have a heart attack or somethin.
"Say it, you old fart!"
"Sir. Yes, sir," he mumbles.
"That's more like it. Now kick your shoes off, pops!" He trembles like but gets em off. "Now your dirty old pants." And he looks at me and wonders how he got hisself into this shit, but he undoes his belt which goes round im like 1 1/2 times and then opens his zipper and obediently drops trou, showin me his baggy boxers and his knobby knees and his varicose veins and the oldman garters holdin up his socks. I makes im stand there like that shiverin and I walks round im. "OK, now take off your peed up shorts." And he does, and by then I know he really likes takin my shit, cause I see he's hidin a little smile and he aint shakin quite as much. If I'm lucky, -- it's happened 2-3 times, -- he's wearin a big old diaper and then I just laugh my head off while he turns all scarlet and undoes the tape and lets em fall. But whether he's got a Depends or just his boxers, I makes im pick it up and sniff his piss cause by that time in the afternoon every old man has had enough leaks to reek. Then I circles round im again and pokes at his flabby ass and his withered old dick and I keeps chucklin.
Then I takes out my cell phone and I points it at im and takes his picture and then shows it to im cause some of em don't even knows a phone can do that. And he looks real concerned and mumbles, "What are you goin to do with that?"
"Did you just speak to me, shithead?
And right away he knows his mistake. "Sorry, Sir. It's just. . ."
I snaps a few more like closeups of his privates and I tells im, "Yeah, well, you just do what I say or I'll send copies of these here pictures to your daughter (or son or wife or checker buddy or priest or the commander of his legion hall or Mason muckamuck of whoever I've picked up that he might not want to see im naked like this.)"
"Now, do we understand each other, you old fart?" No matter what name I calls im, the qualifier is always the same, "old."
He nods and looks down at his pathetic genitals and I knows he's smilin again. "Yes sir."
"You learn fast, pops, for a senile old fool."
"Yes sir."
"OK, on your knees, old gramps."
"Yes sir." He struggles a little, what with his arthritis and all, but gets his knees down on the floor.
"Yeah, now your mouth is at just the right level, you old fart." I stand in front of im, my big old package right in his face for im to look at jealously. "You like that, don't you, old man?"
"Yes sir," and I knows he does.
"Maybe you think you had one like this once."
"Yes, I could make the ladies real happy with . . ."
"Shut up, you lyin old fool. I don't wanta hear none of your stories bout your male prowess. You never had a decent boner in your life and you knows it."
"No sir." We both knows it.
"Well, then takes a look at a real man's cock, you old faggot. Open my fly."
"Yes sir." His old hands are shaking, but he manages to get the zipper down and the waist unbuttoned. Now his eyes stares at my bright red jock with its enticin bulge. I take my thumbs and slowly inch my jeans down to my knees. If he's wearin glasses, this is when I rips em off im and throws em on the floor.
"Smell it, you old homo." He closes his eyes and leans his fat nose toward my semihard cock. I grabs the back of his head and presses his face right gainst my jock. "You like it, don't you, old man, the smell of a real male with ragin hormones, not all dried up like you?"
"Yes sir." He's rememberin the way he used to smell.
"Lick it, you old faggot."
"Yes sir." He opens his eyes and his mouth and puts his tongue on the wet red mesh and begins to slobber over my package. Inwardly, I'm lovin the way his old catarrh makes my cock feel, but I don't show any outward expression, other than domination.
"Enough, you old faggot. Let the boys out to play."
"Yes sir." He pulls my jock down and gets his first unhampered look at my manhood. Unfettered, my cock now rises to the occasion and I let it rest on the tip of his nose. He pets my balls, nostalgically.
"Yeah, you likes em."
He nods and whispers softly, "Yes sir."
"Jerk me off, old timer. I knows you can still do that. You jack off all day long when you're sittin lone watchin TV, don't you."
Again he nods, "Yes sir," and starts expertly workin way on my dick with his gnarly old hands. He gets it bone stiff and the piss slit glistens with a few drops of pre-cum. He makes no effort now to hide his enjoyment. He glances up at my face with his old puppy dog eyes.
"Yes, you sick old bastard, you may suck it." Of course, before we rived here, he was expectin to get a blow job from me. Then as I got into the humiliation routine, he had been secretly hopin that I would force my cock in his mouth. What he didn't know is that I was readin his senile old mind and now I was graciously givin im permission to blow me. No doubt embarrassed, but still grateful, he opens his mouth, takes out his dentures and starts gummin way on my manstick. Man, if you never been sucked by a geriatric guy, you haven't lived. These guys are experts at toothlessly gnawin way on a piece of meat. It don't matter none that this is their first bona fide blow job.
So he chaws way on me like one of his stinky cigars, and moans soft like, and I see some tears slowly oozin from his closed eyes. I takes out my phone gain and gets a few more pics and he doesn't know what I'm doin and even though his face aint in the pic, the liver spot pattern on his bald head make a unique fingerprint. There's no denyin the old cocksucker is im.
Meanwhile, his hands are busy also. He keeps workin on his own sorry dick, thinkin he can put new life into his old dead pecker. It's useless of course. When his PSA was climbin through the roof a few years back and he finally went to get his peepee looked at and he found out his old prostate had cancer, he didn't think none bout the consequences, he greed to have em cut it out, and he aint had a boner since. I heard the story a hundred times.
I keep pushin my mantool in and out of his maw, each time goin a little further `til I'm pressin gainst the back of his old throat. He chokes a little, cause I know he aint been on the receivin end of a blowjob before, but he remembers well enough how all those hookers down through the years sucked his dick, back when he could still get it up, so the old veteran knows what his duty is and doesn't resist my inevitable advance.
After a while, we both feels it cummin. That throb. That distinctive dick shudder. I know he's wonderin if he's gonna hafta swaller my jizz or what, but I gots myself other ideas. At the last moment, I pulls out and splays my manjuice all over his sorry gray face. One, two, three big eruptions, followed by a series of diminishin spurts. If he was honest, he'd have to mit he'd never cummed like that hisself in all his long sorry life. He keeps his eyes closed tight and savors the beautiful warm cream as it oozes down his wrinkled old face. He laps at his upper lip and pulls tonguefuls of it in to reward his gums for all their fine efforts. He bows his head in reverence before his young Adonis.
"You aint finished, you old cocksucker, you know."
"No sir," he says softly, almost grateful at the news.
"While Mr. Johnson here recuperates and gets his strength back, you take off all your clothes, you old feeble excuse for a man."
He goes over to the bed now and sits down. He unbuttons his sweater carefully and slips it off. His shirt is totally saturated with his old sweat. He unbuttons it part way and then slips it over his head. Then comes the t shirt with the stained armpits. Finally, the garters and socks come off his old scrawny legs. He sits before me, totally conquered, a sorry naked specimen of shitness, devoid of testosterone, complete with saggin tits.
"Stand up, old lady."
"Yes sir."
"Face the bed, old bitch."
"Yes sir."
"It's time for your annual prostate exam. Bend over, put your hands on your ass and open it for the doctor."
"Yes sir." He meekly complies. They always meekly comply. As if, after seventy some years on this planet, he is finally learnin what he is good for.
I walks over, kneels behind im, and buries my face between his stinkin ass cheeks. My tongue begins latherin his old dry smelly shithole. I loves this part. He moans. He remembers how he could never convince his wife to do anythin oral. How even his whores who sucked im off balked at kissin his ass. Now he sees what he was missing. His tight little old sphincter starts to give in. I spit on my finger and push it into his willin hole. He has probably had fifty DREs in his life. Out of habit, the old guy usually coughs. Then I puts two fingers inside im and start to spread his holemuscle open. It's tight, just the way I like it. It might be two or three days since his last BM. They are always hard cause he doesn't eat the fiber like the doc tells im.
I reaches in my shirt pocket and takes out my phone gain and uses my free hand to snaps a few closeups of the old shit can gettin opened. Then I takes out the little tube of lube that's been waitin there all this time for this moment. I uses my teeth to unscrew the cap, then pulls my fingers not quite all the way out (they are slightly brown, that's ok). I spreads a glop of lube on em and gets it well spread over the whole, inside and out.
By now, my cock is standin erect once more. I leans in. Out come the fingers and my helmet is pressed hard gainst the old guy's male pussy.
"OK, you old bitch, I'm comin in whether you want it or not. Do you want it?"
"Yes sir," he says honestly.
"I knew it. OK, don't tighten up on me yet." He briefly lets down his guard and I feels the sphincter relax ever so briefly, so I plunges head.
He screams. His hands fly off his ass as he stables hisself on the bed. He's quiverin. His naked body is sweatin from every pore. His seventy odd year old virgin ass has been deflowered.
I pumps and pumps. I holds his ass tight. I reaches round and pulls his limp little cock. I grits my teeth. His asshole has a vice grip on my manhood. I can't pull out if I wanted to. But I don't want to. I pounds way on im. Very quickly, we both feels the ejaculation gain, but this time I stays inside im. My warm babymakers fill his shit hole. I quickly snaps a couple more pics of my cock inside his hole. Then my chest falls over his back. He leans forward and slowly we descend on to the bed, my cock still inside im. He is whimperin like a ten year old.
After a few minutes, my semi flaccid cock reappears. I tells im to lick it off.
"Yes sir" he mumbles, though I know the smell of his own shit detests im. I grabs his hand and makes im wipe his own ass oozin with my juice and I then pushes his hand into his toothless mouth. I does this a few times and he finally begins to do it hisself, felchin my mancream from his own ass. I takes a few last pics.
I stands up and gets dressed. Then I leans over his old limp used and useless body and shows im the series of pics I have.
"If I ever see you gain, you old fart face, you'll find these pics mounted on the wall in the men's john in Chamber Park. And, remember, I knows where you live. (Or I know where you goes to church, or where your son lives, or some other such threat.)
The old guy never gain shows up in the park. He probably wants me to fuck im gain. I spects he's sittin at home every afternoon thinkin bout the day he gave up his ass to that mazin kid. But me, now that he's no longer a virgin, I has no use for im. I just goes to the park and waits. There will always be nother old fart there for me to fuck.