My friend Jeff and I connected on a hookup site. Both of us are self-described pleasers—men who live to give and receive raw, uninhibited pleasure, unbound by labels. I crave every depraved act two men can share, so I was eager yet uncertain how violently our hungers would collide when we finally met.
Jeff’s in an open marriage. We met at his stunning three-story home and were drawn straight to the rooftop gazebo, a private sanctuary with a small bar, cozy seating, and a futon whose sun-warmed fabric later felt soft and slightly rough against my bare back. Amid his scattered electronics, conversation flowed effortlessly while the faint warmth of his clean skin and subtle cologne already made my cock stir. He’s in his late 50s; I’m in my early 70s—perfect. His husband hunts younger guys; Jeff craves seasoned older men like me. The air between us crackled with promise.
We started chatting, but desire quickly overtook us. Lips crashed together in wet, hungry kisses, tongues tangling as the soft plushness of his mouth yielded yet demanded more. Needy whimpers vibrated between us while hands roamed greedily under clothes, scorching bare skin meeting bare skin. Fingertips dug into muscle and the salty scent of emerging sweat thickened in the warm air. Kissing always sets me ablaze; my cock strained hard against fabric as Jeff’s voice dropped low and rough, “I need you naked.”
He stripped me slowly, his hot mouth latching onto my nipples and sucking them into stiff, tingling peaks while his big, calloused hand cupped my swelling package. The firm pressure stroked me to throbbing rigidity through thinning cloth, every brush of his fingers sending electric jolts straight to my balls. My turn came next. As he sucked and bit my neck—teeth grazing sensitive skin and leaving hot, wet marks—I yanked his belt open. His shorts and underwear dropped with a soft thud, and his cock sprang free, heavy and rock-hard. The velvety skin burned against my palm as I wrapped my smaller hand around that thick, veiny shaft—longer and girthier than mine—crowned by a fat, silky-smooth head bearing the faint scar of an old piercing. His huge, low-hanging balls had impossibly soft, shaved skin under my fingers. He towered over my 5’3”, 140 lb frame; his solid bulk pressed against me, dominating in every way I craved.
We collapsed onto the futon. I straddled him as the coarse fabric scraped lightly against my knees and our rigid cocks ground slickly together—hot, rigid flesh sliding with delicious friction and smearing sticky precum between us. We devoured each other’s mouths like starving animals, his deep moans vibrating through his chest into mine. I slid down, face buried in his crotch, inhaling deeply the rich musk of shaved balls and aroused cock while my hands explored the silky smoothness of those heavy orbs, rolling them gently and feeling their weight shift. I dragged my tongue up his pulsing shaft, feeling every raised vein under the flat of my tongue, then buried my face in those massive balls. The baby-soft skin yielded as I licked greedily, soaking them until they dripped. Gently, I sucked one plump nut into my mouth; the delicate skin stretched slightly as my tongue swirled, tasting his raw musk. Jeff groaned long and low, his fingers tightening in my hair. The slight tug sent sparks down my spine.
Releasing that nut with a wet pop, I lavished the other, then returned to his cock—sucking deep, feeling it throb against my tongue and the back of my throat. The obscene wet noises drove us wild.
Suddenly, he hauled me up for a savage kiss, then flipped me onto my back with effortless strength as the futon cushion yielded beneath me. He descended, velvet lips wrapping around my leaking 5.5 inches. The wet heat and silky swirl of his tongue drew loud moans as I thrust up into that luxurious suction. He edged me ruthlessly; the sudden cool air on my slick shaft made me ache. Then he climbed up to kiss me, voice husky: “Your precum is fucking delicious.” He smeared a thick bead across my lips; the slippery texture lingered before his tongue plunged in.
“69—get on top,” he ordered. I straddled his face; the futon creaked softly as he spread my cheeks wide with strong hands gripping firm flesh. His hot breath teased my hole first, then his tongue attacked—wet, slippery pressure circling my rim. The exquisite tickle turned to deep, probing thrusts that made my ring flutter and relax. He fucked my hole with his tongue until my thighs trembled and my body melted into warm jelly. I spun around, kissing him frantically and tasting my own ass on his lips. Breathless, I whispered against his ear, “Jeff, I need you inside me. Fuck me—fill me.”
Lube squirted cool and slick. I worked it into my hungry hole, the slippery intrusion of my own fingers stretching me open while he coated his massive cock; the glossy sheen made it glide effortlessly through my fist. Missionary—I had to watch his face. Legs pinned back, ass lifted on a pillow, the angle exposed me completely.
He pressed in. That exquisite burn as his fat cock stretched my ring gave way to the slow, relentless pressure blooming into sweet fullness as he sank balls deep. His cock throbbed inside my clenching heat. He paused, flexing deliberately, letting me feel utterly owned.
Then he fucked—slow, dragging strokes that lit my prostate like fire, building to deep, pounding thrusts. His heavy balls slapped my ass with each impact. The futon rocked beneath us; my own cock bounced against my belly, dripping hot precum in sticky strands. I clenched hard around him, feeling every ridge as I milked him, drawing guttural moans from his throat. Ten minutes of raw breeding—skin slapping skin, wet squelch of lube, my high whimpers, his deep grunts—until with a final savage thrust and a roar, he erupted. I felt every hot pulse as thick ropes flooded my guts; his cock jerked wildly inside me.
I begged him to stay buried until he softened, savoring the slow, slippery slide out and the warm, viscous trickle of his load leaking from my wrecked hole, coating my balls and perineum in sticky warmth. I hadn’t cum yet, but the afterglow thrummed through every nerve. Jeff slid down and took me deep—velvet throat contracting around me, furious tongue lashing the sensitive underside—until I shattered with a broken “Oh fuck!” pumping thick spurts down his throat as he swallowed greedily, the gentle suction milking me dry. He nursed me soft, then rose for a filthy snowball kiss—feeding me my own hot, salty load as our tongues swirled in creamy mess. The slick texture lingered on my lips.
We lay tangled and sweaty, hearts pounding, skin glued together in places. The air was thick with cum, sweat, and satisfaction. Eventually, we talked—easy, intimate—voices low and sated. Hours later, dressed and sharing a cold beer that felt crisp against the lingering taste of sex, I left utterly spent, deeply fulfilled, and already aching for the next time with this extraordinary man.
