The following story is fiction only. Not applicable for real life. In real life you should use condoms and think carefully about what you are doing.
Please don't read this if you are not 18 or older than 18.
Please e-mail me if you enjoyed the story.
I work a hard job, suit and tie, a slave to the man, you know how that goes. I'm almost 40 and any real relationship prospects dried up back when I still had time to dance all night and drop X. Now I have a decent, if overly hairy body, a nice car, a good house, and a well-cultivated flower bed.
Or I USED to, until a few weeks ago. Something started pissing in my petunias and ruined them. I thought it was a dog, or a cat, but last week I saw some scrawny figure running out of my garden when I got home. So now I knew who it was.
I got off early one night just to see this punk for myself. I turned all my lights off, kept my car in the garage all day, and waited. About 7:30 the punk showed up. I looked through the blinds and unconsciously licked my lips as he pushed his baggy boardshorts down enough to whip out a huge, thick, pierced dong and spray all over my now-destroyed petunias. No wonder he did so much damage - he was spewing uring everywhere because of the Prince Albert. Totally scattershot. I was angry, but I was so turned on by the hint of a bubble butt and by that fat 8 inch monster that I was stroking myself through my sweatpants.
Since he thought the coast was clear, the punk decided to go all the way. He lowered his shorts to around his ankles, licked his right palm, and began jerking himself off. He lifted his shirt, showing off his washboard abs as he pinched his meaty, silver-dollar size tits. Damn he was a hot punk. Shaved head, Satanic looking tats all over his smooth chest and arms, and stark blue eyes. When he lowered two fingers to shove into his crack, and then put them in his mouth to taste his odor, I came so hard the sweatpants were Superglued to my 7 inches. I was in lust big time. He blew a huge load all over the flower bed and then he laid down on the ground and passed out. Maybe he was on drugs, I don't know.
I had had a few beers and I was brave - and I needed to piss. So I went out to the yard and I took down my sweatpants. His face was so angelic with the spotlight from my garden. He had a little drool around one side of his mouth.
I squeezed my buns together and out came the first drops of piss. The drizzle soon became a torrent and I was flooding his pouty lips and button nose with my yellow stream. He flustered and sputtered, and opened his mouth, unknowingly swallowing a huge amount of my acrid spray. While he cursed at me I aimed for his sensitive nips and he just whimpered in between his profanity.
He may have claimed to be upset, but his cock was meaner and beefier than ever. So was mine. Before I could stop myself, I just took him into my mouth and I shoved my own 7 inches onto his face. We 69ed for a while, and unsurprisingly, he gave even better head than me. He had obviously done this before. I got sick of the blowjob and while I finished him up, I repositioned myself so that my ass crack was directly on his beestung lips. He had obviously given out rim jobs as well. Damn what a hot punk.
By that time, of course, he was close, and he yanked me hard all the way onto his horse meat. A steaming load guzzled down my throat. I swallowed every drop.
Right after he was done he pushed me off. Didn't even make eye contact. I know those punks. They will tell you up and down that they aren't "fags", that they don't kiss, but they will lick your shithole and drink your piss and they give up their anal cherries at the first whiff of a joint.
I saw his bubble butt sprinting out of my garden that night. He probably wanted to pretend we'd never met. But I just smirked as I held his slimy Prince Albert in my hand. I knew he'd be back. For the dick ring, and for my ass.
Punks are so predictable.