My Old Lovers, pts 1 and 2

Dave

He wasn’t hard, so it was difficult to tell how big he was. Thick, it appeared, but even that was hard to judge.

“What do you like, Dave?” I asked reading the name tag on his T-shirt. He still wore it, standing there in his sweats with it hanging out the front, trying to look casual, clutching his glass with both hands while all the others, couples in various gender combinations and shades, went at it all around the house.

“I… I likes fucking white boys,” he stammered, lisping softly. Tall and chiseled, he’d have been mobbed if he hadn’t put out this air of nerdiness and fear that was so off-putting.

What the hell, I wasn’t having a great time here anyway. Might as well welcome Erkl to Swingworld.

I sank to my knees and took him in my mouth, moistened his geek willie, peeling back the dun-colored foreskin to kiss the chocolate egg of his glans. It stirred very slightly but not much. He wasn’t getting hard, not the way I was used to. He clutched his glass and gulped half of it, then grabbed a bottle at random and refilled it. I began to wonder if booze wasn’t half the reason he wasn’t rising above quarter-staff. The heat of my mouth alone should have caused more reaction than this.

I sucked a bit more and he responded with awkward thrusts but nothing was doing. I took him deep in my throat just for the hell of it; it was easier to do when his cock was still so soft. I closed my throat muscles around it, milking him. He gasped and pulled out, then moved back in with more assuredness. But long before he’d hit that rachet-hard phase of erection that would guarantee he wouldn’t lose it until he was done with me, he suddenly pulled away and moved behind me, into position. I was wondering what he was going to manage without a bit more steel, but I let him go.

His finger slid across my anus, swiping Vaseline, and then he slid his thick finger in. Ummm… Maybe that would be enough; it was thick and a lot harder than his joint just now. He rooted around enthusiastically, and my cock responded, but pulled out soon and I felt his soft glans press into my lubed crack. I was surprised when he managed, somehow, to penetrate.

With a sigh, he grabbed my hips in his greasy hands and begun to thrust, his soft willie somehow making its way into me, and still not getting much harder. I’d never had this happen before, and if he hadn’t managed to get in, it would have been embarrassing and irksome.

But as it was, the feeling of being fucked with a soft dick was beginning to grow on me. He was doing all the usual things, thrusting, grunting softly, telling me in his stammering, lisping voice how tight my ass was, how much he liked fucking me, but there was no pain of pushing past the resisting sphincter until it managed to relax and adapt,  no pressure like when a hard cock went deep and seemed to bounce off the end of my colon. All I felt was a soft presence, a sense that he was inside me, and the kiss of his thighs against my cheeks as he moved, enthused but restrained in his thrusts.

Deep inside my bowel, I relaxed more deeply. This wasn’t going to be the usual brutal fucking black men usually gave me, where I had to brace myself and use all my skills to avoid internal injury. I felt his soft cock slip deeper into me, and his thick balls slap my rump.

He was beginning to lengthen a bit, too, his girth expanding, but not painfully. Now it was clear there was a cock in me, but I could still feel the silkiness of his glans as it parted me again and again, sliding out and reentering. His thrusts began to pick up and his cock leapt a bit more in response, but he wasn’t yet pounding me like so many guys do; he restrained himself and pressed me like a lover, slipping deeply and gently into me as his soft lips brushed my shoulders and neck.

Now I could feel his arousal building, the thickness of his cock swelling inside me, opening me from the inside rather than slamming its way in, and I heard him moan as we both began to move in rhythm. “Yeah, baby,” he crooned said softly in my ear. “Show me how much you like my lovin’.” His lisp and stammer had disappeared along with the folds in his penis.

I reached back and took his balls lovingly into my hands and cupped them. His cock thickened more and the head pressed deep inside me. His breathing came faster and he began to pick up his pace, his cock now respectable in size, banging into my tight hole.

Then he reached around and began to stroke my own cock, keeping perfect rhythm with his thrusts, still gentle even as they became more substantial and began to fill me. No man had ever jerked me off while he fucked me before and I began to feel myself getting close to coming.

“You’ve got the nicest, tightest little hole,” he said. “Tell me how much you like my chocolate rod, baby.”

“Oh, Davey,” I said with an exaggerated moan. “Bury that big cock in me, please.”

He suddenly became thicker, and I realized he was all about the words.

“My ass likes your big, thick, dark… rod,” I added.

It did, especially now. With each thrust, he was getting more substantial, certainly as big as I’d ever had, but he was still going gently, gentlemanly in his sodomizing.

“Fuck me hard, studman,” I begged. ‘Wear my poor ass out.”

He picked up the pace, and now he was reaching so deep I was moaning in earnest, his cock stroking across my prostate gently but firmly. The wide rounded shoulder forced itself in, opening my rectum and sending waves of pleasure. I could hear his breathing hissing in my ears now as he neared his climax.  His plum-sized balls slapped my own, and the tip burrowed ever deeper. I sensed a good ten inches of him buried in my ass now, and he was still growing.

Then I heard him whisper “Oh, Jesus,” and he was spurting hot semen into me, pushing me over the edge. I came begging, “Oh, Dave, ride my ass, baby.”

Michael

 It didn’t make a whole lot of sense to let him fuck me. I knew Michael wasn’t gay, or even really bi; I don’t even think he really desired men at all. He just fucked them because their women sometimes asked him to and sometimes that was the only way to get to the hot women. Not to mention the pleasure he got out of having the men humiliated in front of their women: first, by having a much smaller cock than his, beside which most guys’ pricks looked like toys, and second, seeing how much their wives loved his cock and knowing they’d never please her as well as they had before, and third, getting their asses reamed by the big cock may have seemed like a very hot thing, but he hadn’t signed on for being considerate; brutal was his style, even with their women. When he fucked men, he was punishing.

Lots of men with big cocks were brutes, I had discovered; they had grown up with a weapon they were too immature to learn to use properly, and they got away with it because big cocks are in demand. Every single well-hung man I know has a problem with gentleness and subtlety; they have one speed and it’s pile-driver.

But damn, his cock felt good in my ass. Even when it was being applied without finesse, with the sole intent to cause pain. I knew he wanted to hear me scream. It was so big it took my breath away, burning its way past my involuntarily clenched sphincter and filling every crevice of my colon. His heavy balls spanked my ass. His dun-colored dong had this massive head that was shaped like a mushroom and about the same color, and it bent to the left, with a turn that looked like a badly mended bone.

It felt like a bone, actually. Hard and thick, it pried me open like an oyster and banged its way into me, his hands grasping my hips as he grunted and pounded. Once he came out of me and slammed forward again to get back in and for a second he missed, his cock thrusting insistently into the side of my cheek. It felt almost like he was going to tear a new hole if he didn’t find one already.

But he did, and it was well-lubed and ready for him. His huge glans pried me open and he slid in all the way to the hilt, his pear-sized nuts thumping my cheeks. He grunted with satisfaction and began to fuck me brutally, making me cry out about every other thrust. His cock came free and he bludgeoned his way back in, opening my sphincter with a powerful thrust, stretching my colon like an accordion about to burst.

Then I felt his orgasm coming on, his already-mighty cock thickening and lengthening even more, swelling inside me, sparking mind-blowing sensations of pain-laced pleasure, before he exploded inside me, a volcano of searingly-hot lava filling me.

“Take that, you tight-ass homo whore,” he grunted.

At the words, I came, came hard, the semen bursting out of me like bag that had been punctured. “Oh, Jesus,” I heard myself say. “Oh, Michael.

On Being Used

He’s looking at me from across the lawn, smiling in a sexy, dangerous, slightly greasy way.

I’m not sure why he picked me; I’m not out, and this is a hetero wedding. I’m not even gay. I’m really just mildly bi, more interested in women than men, by a factor of twenty to one most days.

At first, I’m pretty sure he’s after my tablemates, the two “out” queers on either side of me. Kelvin and Gary have been a couple for a decade, and Gary, the “chick” in the couple, likes to flirt. I’ve known them for 4 of their 10 years together, and I know it’s allowed, even encouraged, in their relationship.

At first Gary thinks that hot, pumped Latino guy with the vaguely outdated cocky greaser look is after his ass too. Then it dawns on them both, and they look at me. “Dude, I think it’s you he wants.” I’m not buying, but then I look back at him and he smiles in my direction.

He has that arrogant way of looking at me, like he knows he can have me whenever he wants. I am not used to a man looking at me that way; I think of myself as more of the hunter than the hunted.

He finds me at the bar, gives me his card and tells me to call him. Just ‘Jose’ and a cell number. This guy’s a real player, I guess.

I check him out with the groom, without telling him why I’m asking; just that I spoke to this guy, do you know him? The groom doesn’t ask why I’m asking; he knows I’m bi, but he doesn’t like to think about it. He tells me, though, probably just in case, that Jose has a date here at the wedding, a long-time lover; they’ve been living together for 15 years and have adopted children. The groom knows them from church, one of the more-active families in this very politically and socially active congregation.

I decide I’m not going to do this. He’s been with the man forever, and they’ve got kids, for Christ’s sake. Besides… I’m not really into men that much. I fuck them once in awhile, usually in a group situation or a three-way with a couple.

But somehow, later that weekend, after the tryst with the current woman has panted its way to a close and she’s on the plane back home, I do call and he’s pretty close by and says he wants to stop by, not for sex or anything, but just because. Before I know it, he’s at my door, smiling that cocky grin.

“Did I tell you how much I like your look?” he says, his voice a soft but somehow firm caress. “That scruffy wild thing you have going.”

I don’t like kissing, but he doesn’t ask, just kisses me, his tongue insistent in my throat. He’s shorter than I am, but he just grabs me around the neck and pulls me down to him, his hands on my ass and I feel him hard against my leg. I am surprised to find I am getting hard, too; usually, I don’t get hard when a man is about to fuck me.

“I like your cock, too,” he says, rubbing it through my pants before taking it out and massaging it in his palms. “A masculine thing, mixed with wanting to be fucked like a woman.”

He reaches into his pants and I find myself sinking to my knees in front of him. His cock’s dimensions are so different from mine; where the head of mine is thick and rounded, mushroom-shaped, the top of a meat lollipop, his is sleek and cobra-like, the head is smaller than the shoulders, torpedo-shaped. He’s longer than me, and I am not small. Thick as I am, he’s almost as thick, everywhere except the head.

I take him experimentally into my mouth, and lick, softly suck. He moans and runs his hands through my hair. I stop, and tell him. “I don’t… really know how to do this. Do you?”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll you teach you,” he murmurs tenderly

I’m thinking since he’s gay, not bi like me, he certainly knows how to suck cock. I’m thinking he’ll show me how he does it.

I’m wrong. His idea of how to teach me is to take my head in his hands and force his cock into my hitching throat, inch by inch, slow but insistent. His thick, high, tightly-clenched balls slide across my chin and thump against my lower lip. He starts to move, fucking my mouth and throat.

I try to take him all in, but my throat isn’t cooperating, and I gag every time he hits the back of it. So I try to make it work another way, using my hand as an extension of my mouth, wrapping him tightly in my fist and swirling my tongue around the glans. He moans and thrusts harder, pushing along my tongue and into my hitching throat again and again, bringing choking grunts and making my eyes fill from the strain.

After a few minutes of this, I am ready to try something else, so I lead him by his rigid and still-growing cock — uncircumcized like me, I think, but when he’s hard, the foreskin is so stretched smooth that it’s hard to say for sure – to the bedroom, and he takes over.

He pushes me to a bending position in front of the bed, quickly peels off my shorts and drops them, then his. I hear him rip the envelope and then snap a condom onto his cock while his slippery finger smears my crack with lube.

“Get ready, baby,” he says, his voice thick with lust. I try to make myself relax, as I feel his glans, snake-like in my mind’s eye in relation to the rearing hood of his cock, press against and pry me open.

I had taken to shaving my ass over the past few weeks in vague preparation for something like this. I’d never done this before. No hair around my hole, nothing to tug or to smell… or slow him down, I discover.

He’s not subtle, pressing my anus in a few short hard jabs and forcing it open, entering me with a masterful thrust, then ramming his thick cock in to the hilt a second later, muscling past the second involuntary sphincter without waiting for it to open. It’s deeply painful and wonderful at the same time, being so completely manhandled, mastered. It’s not my first assfuck by a long shot, but it’s the first time I have been so utterly emasculated, made into a woman. I find I like the role, at least for the moment, and I begin to pant and moan in a decidedly un-butch way.

“Oh yeah, bitch,” he says, his voice tight with brutal glee as he rams himself in again and holds, his heavy balls pressed to my cheeks. “You’re tight as fuck.”

I’m glad he noticed, but I wanted him to say something about my smooth ass, after all the work of getting it so soft and feminine. But he’s too busy slamming himself in, filling me and I can’t speak for the feeling of being so close to being hurt by the length and thickness of that cock.

He stops outside for a second, then punches in and stretches me open, pulls out, rams in again, making me groan with pain, and he loves it. “Yeah,” he says in my ear, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back, arching my back. “I like my bitches to make noise. Talk dirty to me.”

“Oh, God,” I hear myself moan. “Please fuck me harder, Jose. Fuck my tight little smooth ass.  Punish it.”

He growls with satisfaction and slams me again, letting go of my hair and knocking me onto the bed, splayed forward, my forehead resting on the bed and my forearms and elbows braced to keep him from pounding me into the headboard. “Get up on the bed,” he says in a minute, and I obey his order without thinking, get on my knees on the bed, my hips clasped tightly in his hands as he pummels my smooth hairless ass, always going in so far I feel his nuts spanking me.

I feel his cock swelling ever thicker, pressing against my pubic bone from the inside, rubbing my swollen prostate as he bangs me. Then with a triumphant roar, he explodes deep inside me, and holds still, his hot semen boiling into my colon sending me over the edge and I blow my load too. With his turgid dick plunging itself into my midsection, I come so hard, my load flings itself a record distance and splatters across the bed, my torso, and even the headboard, a sweet, painfully hard orgasm that leaves me weak and shaky. I collapse on the bed face down, and he rams me for a last few thrusts before he comes to a rest inside me.

“I fucked you good, didn’t I, baby?” he pants. “Say it. You wanted to be fucked, and I fucked the hell out of your ass, huh?”

“Yes, Jose,” I say meekly. “You fucked me good and hard. You were the best.” I stretch out my arms above my head, arch my back, and note the ache in my butt, know it will be sore in the morning.

He chuckles, satisfied, and thrusts a few more times before he pulls out with a pop, and slaps my ass as he heads for the bathroom. “Nice ass, Melanie,” he says. “I could ream you all night, but you’d never be able to handle it.”

I luxuriate in the unfamiliar feeling of being the femme. “Don’t bet on it, Pablo,” I say.

“I’ll be back for you, my gringo whore,” he says as he passes by on the way out, drops a few twenties on the nightstand. “Buy yourself something nice. Now come here and kiss my cock goodbye.”

I move too slowly, and he grabs a  handful of hair, hauls me over and sticks his cock in my face. He seems to have washed it, but I’m still not convinced. Doesn’t matter. He feeds it between my closed lips and I open, and then he’s in again, thrusting, riding my face, his balls somehow still full, slapping my face. His pubic hair smells like sweat and sex, and I realize he’s ready to come again, as I am adjusting my throat to let him pass. Suddenly the idea of making him come is very intoxicating and I start to suck hard, my vision blurring as he goes deeper and deeper. Then he stops and I take over the motion, running my hands over his tight muscular ass, milking him, moving my head and shoulders faster and sucking harder until he explodes, filling my mouth with hot milky come, spurting some into my throat. His balls contract and pull up against my lips and chin as he unloads it all in my mouth, all except the strands that splash across my lips and cheeks.

He laughs. “I told you I’d teach you,” he says.

“You taught me, sweetie,” I say. “Now go back to your wife and kids.”

His grin falters a bit. “Yeah,” he says. “I’d better. But we’ll do this again, real soon. I love to dig that hole again.”

It’ll be more than ten years before I see him again. Probably just enough time for me to get ready for it.

A concubine’s tale

“Service me.” He spoke softly over his shoulder, for her ears alone.

She hesitated, her eyes casting about them.

“Here, Master?” she faltered. “But it’s so… open… and…anyone could…”

“Yes,” he agreed calmly, turning, his hazel eyes on her face. “Service me, my concubine.” His voice was mild, but firm. “Do not delay further lest you displease me.”

Hurriedly, she complied, scuttling around him and sinking to her knees on the wide path that bisected the marketplace. At this hour, the venue was nearly empty, populated only by merchants who had come to get an early start on the day; their shifting, shuffling sounds of setting up and unloading could be heard from the neighboring stalls along the midway, shops with their faces yet shuttered.

Opened his buttons with difficulty, she sought about for something to save her, but feeling his gaze upon her from above, she ceased to tarry and freed his heavy shaft from the fine cloth and took it into her mouth. Its warmth, as always, charmed her and she licked it long and lovingly, like a tasty treat.

“Obediance is all,” he said softly. “To your hands and knees, my concubine, and use your body, as you did last evening to such great effect.”

She did as she was bid, and felt him thicken, lengthen, the heavy flesh filling with hot blood and warming her mouth, the velvety glans pushing out from its hood. A silver drop of his pearly essence melted deliciously on her tongue. Despite her discomfiture she warmed quickly to the task, taking him deep in her throat and rocking her body to create the rhythm he desired. His juices seeped from him, gamy, salty, tasting of authority.

Then she sensed a presence behind her, a flitting shadow crossing her peripheral vision. Her eyes sought the master’s face anxiously. He gazed silently down at her, calmly taking her ministrations, registering the presence but making no move to change his activities.

She shivered. The master wanted her to be displayed. Humiliation leads to humility, she recalled his dictum from her training days. She dared not look over her shoulder without permission.

Then she felt the cool touch of air on her nether regions as the hem of her skirt was lifted and laid across the small of her back, baring her arse to the elements; Master had this morn bade her leave it uncovered by undergarments, as was his occasional wont. A cool finger then traced the swell of her buttocks caressingly, and then was withdrawn and dipped between her thighs, parting her suddenly, drawing an involuntary gasp from her. Her master’s eyebrows rose, and he cautioned her with his eyes; she was to remain silent.

The fingers, for there were now two, crept inside and were still, waiting for her heat to seep into their tissues. Their frigidity caused her to clench tightly about them even as she begged silently for their withdrawal, for the master’s words to command it so. The fingers, taking her heat, began to move again, coaxing the wetness from her, coating themselves with her slipperiness before being abruptly removed. Inwardly she sighed, her tongue and body never losing the rhythm. But the master seemed displeased nonetheless; his aura said so.

Her eyes sought his anxiously, but she dared not inquire how she had disappointed him.

“Concubine, I sense that your attentions lie elsewhere,” he said gently but firmly. “Please tell me what could interest you more than servicing your master?”

“Oh!  Nothing, Master. Nothing could be more important!” she shook her head for emphasis and renewed her efforts with alacrity, sucking him deep into her throat and milking him enthusiastically. His phallus lengthened and he smiled. “Please do not again let your attention wander, my child. What goes on about you is the master’s concern, yes?” She nodded eagerly, his cock buried again in her willing throat. He began to move slowly, pushing her body in a winsome fashion, like a swing.

Suddenly the fingers returned, parting her swiftly and holding her open to allow the head of a penis to be pressed just inside her opening. She did not dare to stop moving, to resist the rocking motion the master desired, even though moving backward drove the foreign phallus ever deeper inside, filling her achingly, though not seeming to reach the end of the massive shaft now cleaving her like an oak.

Her thighs quivered with fear and tension; would the master allow this invasion to continue even unto hurting her, injuring her with its massive brunt? Even as she had the thought, she felt the foreign member’s head brush her cervix, then nudge into the mouth of her womb. Around the girth of the master’s cock, she heard the sounds of her fear and pain escape, and was ashamed. But the master did not chastise her, immersing himself instead in his driving motions, which now seemed to coordinate with the stranger’s; she could feel them both begin to accelerate, growing harder and boring ever deeper into their respective orifices, playing her like an instrument between them, sending her back and forth like a bouncing ball until they both reached the summit at the same approximate moment, the master holding still for an instant before gushing forth with the nectar he had taught her to love. His essence slipped down her open throat and into her belly where it settled warmly; the other boiling into her womb with scalding fury, the new penis stretching her walls further than even the master’s, perish the thought, and yet she still felt not the thump of the appendages upon her straining arse. How large must he be, this unseen swordsman the master had allowed to have her from behind? She dared not even a glance over her shoulder.

Upon his deposit, the stranger abruptly ceased his assault and she heard him exclaim wordlessly as he held himself rigid inside her for a long moment, before withdrawing shakily. Then to her horror, he moved into view. A moor, no less, his phallus extending fully to his knee, shrinking not at all with completion.

“Thank you, my child,” he beamed and seemed about to say more when the master interrupted.

“There is no need to thank my concubine,” he said, his voice mild, he betrayed no anger, yet his words bared his displeasure. “She does naught for thee, but rather for me. You have not made of her a conquest; I have, and you would do well to remember that, young serf. It will stand thee well.”

The moor’s eyes flashed warning but he bowed his head and hid them quickly. “Yes, Sire,” he said softly. “My most deep and humble apologies…I did not mean to give offense, but merely to…”

The master held up his hand and the moor’s words left him.

“I think you would do well to show your humility,” he said, motioning her aside, and taking his still-thick penis in his hand. The moor’s face flushed even darker under his dusky skin, and he cast a sidelong glance at her, but he meekly sank to his knees and applied his long pink tongue to the master’s sword, washing it clean of the stickiness that had come from both herself and the master’s own core, taking it deeply in his mouth though it choke him. The master, ever in control of his body, began to harden and thrust, then, as the moor’s throat convulsed with the unaccustomed task, he seemed to take pity and crested quickly, heaving the first explosion into the moor’s mouth and down his throat, before allowing the second and succeeding rounds to spill down his lips and across his shining chest. Hitching, the young man sagged to the ground and lay at his feet gasping with the attempt to hold his gorge.

“You would do well to retain this lesson, Cletus,” the master  said, his voice mild even when breathless. “Should there be a next time that you displease me,  I shall use you as a woman,” he said mildly, grazing the young man’s raised buttock with his finger meaningfully.

“And recall, as well, this: She has not succumbed to you, nor will she ever. Should I deem fit to ever let you touch her again, it will be by my authority she submits and only for my pleasure. And were I ever to instruct her to pleasure anyone, whether I were present or not, it would be my approval she sought, and not yours.”

He spoke with the confidence that no one dare gainsay him, and she thrilled at his power, at her closeness to it, and to her value as his chattel.

And with that, he turned on his heel and moved away. The Moor’s eyes caught hers and through his humiliation, he sought her hungrily. She gave him the briefest smile before turning guiltily and hurrying after the master.

Blue

Just let me, I say, taking his cock in my fingers.

He sits, and I massage him hard, my hands full of baby oil, and then when he’s rock hard, I sit on him slowly and rub his cockhead in small circles against my anus, relaxing it, easing it open, taking his glans and nothing else.

Don’t, I admonish as he begins to press up, trying to bury his cock in my retreating butt. I elude him.

Look, I say sharply, stopping. Look at me.

He complies, panting, grudging.

Let me do it all, I explain. Just sit the fuck still.

I’ll give you the best ass-fuck of your life. No, make that the best fuck,period.

I’ll work your glans, the most sensitive part of your cock, with the tightest part of my ass. It’ll be the best you’ve ever had. Better than ramming somebody’s ass. Better than fucking my throat. But you need to sit still or I am out of here.

He looks miffed, but nods.

I sink my snug ass down onto his raging boner again, marveling at the power of Viagra. This is a dream, a man so hard I can take my time. Slowly, I lower myself down onto that medical priapism until his cockhead is buried.

He still has not breached my second sphincter, the one that hurts. I rise about two inches, and reverse. He begins to pant as he feels the death grip of my tight ass on his glans, milking him. His eyes tear up.

See? I say. I knew you’d like it. It’s almost like deep throat, in terms of how tight it is on your cockhead. But you have to resist the tendency to bury yourself, because no other part of the ass is as tight. You have to go slow, and shallow…

He gasps as I squeeze him.

I work it, slow, clench, squeeze, like a good hand job, with a sliding, pulling motion, hand over hand, fingers milking him.

His breath is coming like a seizure now; it won’t be long.

When he comes, it’s like the top of his skull lifts off, I can tell. He roars. Oh fuck, baby, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…FUCK!

He sits straight up, hard and hot as a recently forged spike.

For my part, the feeling of his jism firing into me, bullets shooting up into my anal cavity, is all it takes.

Now, I want him all the way in. I slam down, hard, and he cries my name again, ragged, as his head sinks to the pillow…

It’s hard to teach an old man new tricks. But not impossible. All it takes is patience, determination, and a blue pill.