Below is my newest story for Nifty. Many thanks.
Taking Care of Hubby
By anonymous.a
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I work in an office all day, sometimes going in before sunupand leaving after sundown. That's why I like to take walks in the morning – toremind myself a world beyond my computer screen exists.
There's a wonderful park about a half mile from my house. Itoffers a mile-long paved walking trail that takes you through groves of treesand near small ponds where birds and turtles live.
Lots of people use the walking trail, although sadly, veryfew are hot young guys. I managed to hook up with a couple, but that's foranother Nifty installment.
Interestingly, the walk TO the park is a different story. Ipass by many homes where I know good-looking fellas live, including the subjectof this story, a young married man by the name of Matt.
Matt and his wife lived across the street from the park in amodest brick house. I say "lived" because they've since moved. I would see himmornings as he left for work, driving his gargantuan pickup truck. He alwaystook his dogs to work with him – two yellow Labs – which makes me think he ownshis own business. Where else could you take a dog to work?
How to describe Matt? He's a big lug of a guy, easily 6-foot2, certainly over 200 pounds. He's neither chubby nor skinny; I'd describe himas fit, although he doesn't have that muscle-bound look of a gym rat. His hairis blonde and thinning. I expect by the time he's 30 he'll be shaving his head.
His wife is older than he – I'd say at least five yearsolder. She's probably close to 30 now and, last time I saw her, very pregnant.The minute I noticed her baby bump I pictured Matt on top of her, pounding awayin a frenzy of lust, arching his back and squinting and groaning as he injectedher twat with a huge load of semen. The thought of it still gives me athrobbing prick.
Matt was a friendly guy. He'd wave and say good morning.When he bought his new truck I stopped and chatted a minute, which is how Ilearned his name. But it was the day I helped him move a couch that I broke theice.
The idiot was trying to manhandle a couch through thedoorway by himself. It obviously wasn't working, so I deviated from thesidewalk, grabbed the end outside the door and lifted. He was surprised andgratified. We hauled it out and into the bed of that mammoth pickup in shortorder.
That's how I learned his wife had gone to her sister's in Atlanta for a couple ofweeks while Matt moved their stuff. They had just bought their first new houseand were doing the heavy lifting themselves to save money for the baby. Heplanned to spend the next few days getting them situated in their new digsbefore she got back.
I guess I must've been staring because he shrugged and gaveme a puzzled expression, and said, "What?"
I laughed and said, "Sorry. It's just that you're so damnedgood looking."
He smiled uncertainly and I quickly added, "I don't mean tofreak you out. I'm attracted to guys, even the ones who are married andexpecting a new addition to the family." And then I winked, just to add a dashof humor that might leaven the deadly seriousness of my intentions.
"Nah, it's OK," he said. "It's actually flattering. I'venever been threatened by the idea of guys liking guys."
I made ready to leave. Before I turned and walked away, Isaid, "If you need some relief before your wife gets back, say the word. I'lltake care of it for you." And with that, I left. I didn't even look back to seeif he were angry, or embarrassed, or maybe interested? It didn't matter. He wasmoving and I might never see him again. Fortune favors the bold, so I had beenbold. Time would tell if my boldness paid dividends.
Over the next couple of days I didn't see him. But then oneSaturday, on a rare afternoon walk, I spotted movement in their living room andnoticed Matt standing there, hands on hips, big head nearly knocking against theceiling fan as he gazed at something with a perplexed look. He noticed me atthe same time and motioned with his head for me to come in.
I made my way up the driveway and walkway, and stepped intotheir living room. He was standing in front of a wooden storage unit, probablyan Ikea from the looks of it. He didn't seem happy.
"Do you know how to take this damn thing apart?" he saidirritably. "Vicki put it together in about 5 minutes, but I'll be damned if Ican figure out how it comes apart."
Ah. The American Psychiatric Association should formallyrecognize a syndrome called "Ikea Frustration." It's a common afflictionbrought on by seemingly impossible fastening techniques used by a certainSwedish furniture manufacturer. Luckily for Matt I had already dealt with thisparticular disorder and was able to show him in a minute or two the secret todismantling the storage unit. When he was done we had a stack of shelves andbraces.
"Come in here," he said, leading me into the kitchen. Heopened the fridge and there was most of a 12-pack of Sam Adams Rebel IPA. Hetook out two bottles and grabbed a magnetic church key from the refrigerator."You are going to help me drink a couple of these."
Who was I to argue?
We stood there in the kitchen, the light turned off, himleaning against the fridge and me against the counter, and talked. I learned hewas an architect just starting out with his own company. He and his wife, theafore-mentioned Vicki, had been married for two years. He was a local boy,having gone to the same high school I did, though a decade afterwards. He hadjust discovered "Breaking Bad" and jogged and was worried about making themortgage payments on their new house. Oh, and he missed his wife. Missed herterribly.
He fished two more beers out of the fridge. I began to feellightheaded. I hadn't had a beer in awhile and these IPAs were kicking my ass.
Be bold, I told myself.
He was still talking. I put my beer down. I walked over tohim and he continued talking, a note of alarm creeping into his voice. Isilenced him by placing my lips over his.
He grunted and tried to talk through the kiss, but he didn'tpull away. I reached down and gently cupped his package. Christ, I could feelthe damn thing growing in my hand.
He stopped trying to talk. He stood there, uncertain. But Icould feel walls falling down, dams breaking, inhibitions going up in a fire ofpassion. He breathed deeply through his nose and began to return the kiss. Icould taste the beer on his lips; then on his tongue as it found its way intomy mouth.
I fumbled at the snap of his cargo shorts and got the damnthings undone, then stuck my hand under the waistband of his boxers and pulled downthe front. I dropped to my knees, before he could say no, and swallowed hishalf-hard cock.
The thing was massive. The head was an enormous mushroom capand as my tongue explored the tip I could feel the piss hole dilating, as if hewould cum right then and there. I ran my tongue under the tip and then down thelength of this monster. At full mast it would probably top out at 8 inches.That was a conservative guess.
His smell was earthy and masculine, of hormonal ferment,mostly, the hot box of his crotch throwing off an aroma of sexual power, thekind that belongs uniquely to a man in the prime of his reproductivecapabilities. I finished pulling down his shorts and then backed away from hiscock so I could take in its beauty.
It was fully hard now and stood out from his body, throbbinggently to the beat of his heart, begging me to take back into my mouth. I did,but only momentarily. I licked down the shaft and began to lick below where hisballs hung in a loose, wrinkled sack covered with fine hairs. I did not take theminto my mouth but just licked, over, under, then allowed my tongue to travel abit south but not quite to his ass crack.
I returned to his cock and put my mouth over it and sucked.I heard and felt him gasp, and his hands traveled to the sides of my head as hebegan to rock slowly into and out of my mouth. His cock head poked at the backof my mouth and on the next in-stroke, I opened up my throat and took him allthe way down to his balls.
"Oh my God," came the husky whisper as his hands traveled tothe back of my head, and he pushed. My nose was buried in his pubic hair andhis balls were draped over my chin as he pumped in and out, squishing my faceagainst his sexhood. The smell he gave off ratcheted up a hundred fold into asticky fog of lust that had my own cock growing painfully hard in my basketballshorts.
His knees came unpinned and he knelt, then lay on the floor.I lay down with him. That massive cock never left my mouth.
Then, he did something amazing.
He moved his right leg under me – I had to raise up a littleto let it pass – and placed the crook on my shoulder. Then, he did the samewith the left. It created a scorching valley of flesh, with his dick and ballsat the very center. Once everything was in place he began to ram his cock downmy throat. I had no option but to accept it.
I have gone down on a lot of guys, gay and straight, but Icould not remember such a wild, superheated blowjob as this. He had his handson the back of my head and his legs on either side, and all I could feel washis hardness ramming down my throat with the urgency of a man who was desperatefor sex. He was using me to pleasure himself, to dump his cum, and I wasletting him. It got me so worked up I took my right hand and slapped it on thatyoung ass, rubbing the glutes up and down, feeling the bristly hair and the layerof sweat on the glistening flesh.
I got my middle finger wet with his perspiration and allowedit to travel into his crack, where it was hotter and wetter and stronglyaromatic. He whimpered as it moved over his asshole and began to rub gentlyagainst the wrinkled bud of his anus. I felt his hole dilating and the nexttime it opened, I gently slipped inside.
"Oh my God" he groaned, and you could hear an almostnarcotic pleasure in his voice as my finger sank to the knuckle. He beganlaying into my throat with an urgency I did not know existed and I could feelhis asshole sucking at my finger. If fingers could cum, mine would have filledhis colon with white semen.
He suddenly stopped breathing and his grip on my head becamefierce, and then he arched his back and I felt a mighty blast of cum shoot downmy gullet. Then another, and another, and one more, as I sucked on the base ofhis cock and probed at his sphincter with my finger. He loosened his grip justa little and I pulled his cock out of my throat and sucked it into my mouth,concentrating on the tip so I could lap up the aftershocks of his ejaculation.I wanted to taste that shit. It was creamy and savory, a kind of sauce you willnot find in any cookbook.
He was gasping now, the contented gasping of somebody whohad just scratched a longstanding itch and was enjoying the pleasure of relief.I continued working on his cock, and when he raised his leg, freeing me fromhis smelly prison of flesh, I began to lick those balls that had produced thesemen injected into my throat. He lay on his hip and spread his legs, giving mefull access to his crotch. I licked everywhere – in the V between his legs andhis body, his balls, his cock, and that faint treasure trail leading up to hisnavel. He was sweaty and his flesh quivered when my tongue touched it. And mytongue touched every part of it.
Finally we were done. He sat there, smiling down at me as Igave his cock a final tickle with my tongue, just under the tip, where mostguys like it. He nodded slightly and murmured, "You think you could, uh," and Ilooked down. My finger was still deep in his asshole. I chuckled and slowlypulled it out and the hole closed, giving me a final wink.
He got to his feet, and I followed. He looked at me a momentand said, "That was freaking awesome – but I still love the ladies!"
"Of course you do," I giggled as I snatched a paper towelfrom the roll and wiped off my finger. I didn't wash it. I wanted the smell ofhim to be there when I jacked off later that day.
We both got dressed and finished our beers. I said goodbye.He didn't seem to be embarrassed or self-conscious, but he did ask that if Iever bumped into his wife, that I please keep what just happened to myself. Ipromised I would, and I have kept that promise ... although I didn't say anythingabout not writing about it on Nifty!
Two days later the place was empty, and Matt was gone.
But I have a feeling I'll see him again. He did move toanother house – another house in the neighborhood. I just need to drive aroundand look for that gargantuan pickup in the driveway.
Then change the path I take to the park each morning.
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Check out Part 1 of my erotic novel "One Day in the Life ofJosh" at Amazon. It's only 99 cents, but I guarantee you'll get more than adollar's worth of hot action. Follow this link: http://www.amazon.com/ONE-DAY-LIFE-JOSH-PART-ebook/dp/B014ORH9YE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1450023605&sr=8-1&keywords=one+day+in+the+life+of+josh
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