It was a whole new life for me: I'd just finished grad school, got my first job, moved to the States... and been dumped by my boyfriend. I was basically all alone in a mid-sized city, where the only people I had met were my landlord and some office mates. Having always swum on amateur leagues, I figured I'd join a master's team - now that I was in my later 20s, it was time to be an adult!
Most of the folks on the team were like those back home: former athletes of different levels, including moms in their 30s and 40s, business guys in their 40s and 50s, and a few older people. They were all very friendly and I found myself in a new "family" of sorts. We'd chat in the locker room, meet for coffee after weekend workouts when we didn't have to go into offices, and a few even invited me to their homes (Texans are very outgoing like that, something odd to me, coming from a big French city). So I didn't think it strange when Stan, a guy in his early 60s, chatted me up in the hot tub, where we'd gather after our trainings.
I was immediately attracted to Stan - he was tall, burly, with grey chest hair and a bald head... and (since the hot tub was men only and many of us went nude), I was able to see his thick cut cock and massive balls. It was all I could do to keep my own cock down and ass from twitching each time he smiled at me and said "howdy boy!"
One day as spring was turning to summer, Stan and I chatted about nothing in particular when he asked if I'd like to come over to his house for Memorial Day, a bank holiday in the States. He told me that there would be three or four friends, they would grill things and have beer - nothing formal. Without thinking, and probably too enthusiastically, I said that I'd love to. Secretly, I hoped that maybe it would end up just Stan and me and I could see more of him.
That day, I headed over at mid-afternoon, with the sun bearing down hard already. Wearing shorts and a Lacoste polo, I looked every bit the euro-boy I was back then, with my slight frame and 170cm (5'7" or so) height, things sort of draped on me. Stan greeted me at the door wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, his own build towering over me and his package suspiciously bulging out. I thought I must be dreaming when he winked at me, patting my shoulder and practically pushing me into the main room, handing me a beer.
"My buds will be here in an hour or so, but we can have some fun first". Stan's hand travelled down my back as he said this, resting on my ass. I hoped he would notice that I wasn't wearing underwear.
"Let's get you out of this getup," he said, not as a question but a command.
I couldn't help but get hard immediately, which didn't go unnoticed by Stan who pressed his growing cock into my buttcheeks.
"well well... I thought this might happen..." said Stan, as he ran his hands over my body. "I have seen you gawkin' me for weeks, not that I haven't been watching you too boy."
"Um... yeah... I mean." I stammered, somewhat overcome and definitely in need of some more of his direction.
"Don't worry bud," he said, staring into my eyes, "I'll make sure you're all good. I know what you need."
And with that, he kissed me while ripping my shorts off, exposing my hard cock and my tight ass, one that hadn't been used in months. "I see you like being taken care of boy."
So much of the rest of the next hour was a blur. I recall Stan pushing my head down to his lap, where his cock - now rock hard and much longer than I'd imagined it when I'd seen it flaccid - waited, leaking generous precut. I recall taking him in my mouth and him gently forcing his 8 inches slowly down my throat until I teared up, then whispering something like, "we'll have to find a more willing hole then boy", before he flipped me over and began eating my hole. I recall squirming in pleasure and begging him to stop, because I knew I'd cum if he kept that up, and feeling him go even stronger, opening me up as I jizzed into his hand, moaning in pleasure as he held me down with his other arm, strong as an ox and determined as a horse.
And I recall the look in his eyes when he too my cum and bathed my hole in it, adding his own ample pre-cum to that which he said "would be all the lube I got for now", as he pushed his thick, veiny shaft into my sloppy hole. I recall moaning in a mixture of pain and desire, and having this turn into lust and outright need as he began to fuck me, slowly at first, then deeper, then savagely, grabbing my hips and telling me that I was his boybitch. Then sinking in deeper, deeper and deeper - farther than any man had ever been in my hole.
When he fucked, Stan was the exact opposite of the sweet, homey guy in the locker room. He was an animal, determined to break me and then remake me as his toy. And that's exactly what he did, for what seemed like an eternity but was probably more like 20 minutes, until I heard him say, "I'm gonna cum boy. I'm gonna mark this hole good!" And then I felt it, a hot, wet sensation like no other, like he was breeding my soul.
We lay there, him grunting in post-orgasmic bliss for a few minutes, when I heard the front door open and the sound of three voices. "Stan bud, I hope he's as good as you promised...."
(to be continued)
Most of the folks on the team were like those back home: former athletes of different levels, including moms in their 30s and 40s, business guys in their 40s and 50s, and a few older people. They were all very friendly and I found myself in a new "family" of sorts. We'd chat in the locker room, meet for coffee after weekend workouts when we didn't have to go into offices, and a few even invited me to their homes (Texans are very outgoing like that, something odd to me, coming from a big French city). So I didn't think it strange when Stan, a guy in his early 60s, chatted me up in the hot tub, where we'd gather after our trainings.
I was immediately attracted to Stan - he was tall, burly, with grey chest hair and a bald head... and (since the hot tub was men only and many of us went nude), I was able to see his thick cut cock and massive balls. It was all I could do to keep my own cock down and ass from twitching each time he smiled at me and said "howdy boy!"
One day as spring was turning to summer, Stan and I chatted about nothing in particular when he asked if I'd like to come over to his house for Memorial Day, a bank holiday in the States. He told me that there would be three or four friends, they would grill things and have beer - nothing formal. Without thinking, and probably too enthusiastically, I said that I'd love to. Secretly, I hoped that maybe it would end up just Stan and me and I could see more of him.
That day, I headed over at mid-afternoon, with the sun bearing down hard already. Wearing shorts and a Lacoste polo, I looked every bit the euro-boy I was back then, with my slight frame and 170cm (5'7" or so) height, things sort of draped on me. Stan greeted me at the door wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, his own build towering over me and his package suspiciously bulging out. I thought I must be dreaming when he winked at me, patting my shoulder and practically pushing me into the main room, handing me a beer.
"My buds will be here in an hour or so, but we can have some fun first". Stan's hand travelled down my back as he said this, resting on my ass. I hoped he would notice that I wasn't wearing underwear.
"Let's get you out of this getup," he said, not as a question but a command.
I couldn't help but get hard immediately, which didn't go unnoticed by Stan who pressed his growing cock into my buttcheeks.
"well well... I thought this might happen..." said Stan, as he ran his hands over my body. "I have seen you gawkin' me for weeks, not that I haven't been watching you too boy."
"Um... yeah... I mean." I stammered, somewhat overcome and definitely in need of some more of his direction.
"Don't worry bud," he said, staring into my eyes, "I'll make sure you're all good. I know what you need."
And with that, he kissed me while ripping my shorts off, exposing my hard cock and my tight ass, one that hadn't been used in months. "I see you like being taken care of boy."
So much of the rest of the next hour was a blur. I recall Stan pushing my head down to his lap, where his cock - now rock hard and much longer than I'd imagined it when I'd seen it flaccid - waited, leaking generous precut. I recall taking him in my mouth and him gently forcing his 8 inches slowly down my throat until I teared up, then whispering something like, "we'll have to find a more willing hole then boy", before he flipped me over and began eating my hole. I recall squirming in pleasure and begging him to stop, because I knew I'd cum if he kept that up, and feeling him go even stronger, opening me up as I jizzed into his hand, moaning in pleasure as he held me down with his other arm, strong as an ox and determined as a horse.
And I recall the look in his eyes when he too my cum and bathed my hole in it, adding his own ample pre-cum to that which he said "would be all the lube I got for now", as he pushed his thick, veiny shaft into my sloppy hole. I recall moaning in a mixture of pain and desire, and having this turn into lust and outright need as he began to fuck me, slowly at first, then deeper, then savagely, grabbing my hips and telling me that I was his boybitch. Then sinking in deeper, deeper and deeper - farther than any man had ever been in my hole.
When he fucked, Stan was the exact opposite of the sweet, homey guy in the locker room. He was an animal, determined to break me and then remake me as his toy. And that's exactly what he did, for what seemed like an eternity but was probably more like 20 minutes, until I heard him say, "I'm gonna cum boy. I'm gonna mark this hole good!" And then I felt it, a hot, wet sensation like no other, like he was breeding my soul.
We lay there, him grunting in post-orgasmic bliss for a few minutes, when I heard the front door open and the sound of three voices. "Stan bud, I hope he's as good as you promised...."
(to be continued)
