“I’m in here, boy,” Mr. Sampson called to me from his bedroom while sitting on the edge of the bed, his meaty hand on his thigh. His bathrobe was partially undone to expose his muscular, hairy chest, and offered up a tantalizing glimpse of his bull cock and balls.
“I finished mowing the lawn,” I called from the hall. “Do you want me to—”
And then I froze, entering his bedroom and finding Mr. Sampson waiting expectantly upon the bed for me, his manly, hairy body begging for me to submit to him. The lurid thought was both thrilling and scary at the same time.
“Wh—where’s Mrs. Sampson?” I stuttered, my eyes locked on the silver forest upon his chest, wanting to bury my face in it.
“Edna is out shopping,” he answered, undoing the belt on his robe, the enormity of his cock coming into view—a massive oak, veiny and thick, crowned by a fat head. “It’s just you and me—we’re all alone.”
Edna and Clark Sampson had always been like grandparents to me. Living next door to us, Edna would watch me after school until my parents got home from work. Although she and Clark were childless, Edna was loving and doting—exhibiting a natural maternal instinct. Her husband Clark, on the other hand, simply tolerated me.
Manly and gruff, Clark was often in his wood shop out back, woodworking and tinkering with things while smoking the cigars that Edna detested. He showed zero interest in me—until I reached puberty.
Edna would always put out healthy after school snacks for me—apple slices or celery sticks. Clark started slipping cookies or slices of cake to me when she wasn’t looking. “Our little secret,” he would whisper in my ear, whiskey on his breath, his silver beard grazing my cheek.
By the time I was fourteen, my parents didn’t make me go over to the Sampsons’ house after school anymore, but I still often stopped by to visit and chat with Edna. Her smiling face always made me feel better after a rough day of school—especially when guys called me faggot, or drew grotesque cocks on my locker.
Clark started offering me little jobs around the house for cash—mowing the lawn, cleaning the gutters, or painting the fence. He always found some reason to keep me there. When I was sixteen, he revealed to me his collection of aged whiskeys in the wood shop. I could help myself at any time, he told me. “Our little secret,” he whispered once more.
But things really changed when I turned eighteen. Clark was suddenly overly attentive, patting me on the back or mussing my hair. While weeding their garden one afternoon, he snuck up behind me and massaged my shoulders, his meaty hands working down my back and then lingering at the top of my ass.
Clark started giving me gifts when Edna wasn’t around—old watches and things that I couldn’t really use, but that had belonged to him. One day he gave me an old Naval Academy t-shirt from his time there. Clark insisted that I try it on in front of him, his eyes glued to my scrawny, hairless chest as I donned his shirt, my skinny body swimming in it.
I wasn’t an idiot—I could see what was happening. The old pervert wanted to fuck me and, honestly, I was game. Sure, he was like a grandpa to me, but I had been attracted to him for a long time. This hairy, muscled man oozed testosterone. He smoked cigars and downed whiskey like it was water. In a bar fight, my money would be on him. And from what I could tell, the old dude was seriously packing between the legs, his ample bulge always on full display.
When it came to getting fucked, I didn’t have a lot of other options in our small town. There was only one other gay boy in my high school, and he drove a pink VW bug and painted his nails in rainbow colors. He was a nice kid, but I wasn’t into him. I wanted to be fucked by a real man—a man like Clark Sampson.
And so I knew what I had to do when Clark summoned me to his bedroom, sitting upon the bed he shared with Edna, his robe opened to reveal the hairy, muscular body and massive cock that I had dreamt of riding since my first wet dreams. Sure, I was excited and a little bit scared, but I had no qualms. Dropping to my knees, a supplicant before Clark and his awe-inspiring cock, I opened my mouth and took that thick, veiny oak down my throat.
“Fuuuck,” Clark exhaled, his hand upon the back of my head. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Ravenously, I sucked him, the silver forest of his dense pubes buried in my face. His precum was prolific, coating my tongue, tasting of whiskey and tobacco. I aimed to suck him dry that first time, eager to feel his thick cock exploding in my mouth, his seed filling my hungry belly. But Clark had other plans.
“That’ll do,” he stopped me abruptly, pushing my face off his dick, saliva stringing from the tip of his cock to my lips. “Time for you to give up that ass to me.”
I pulled off my clothes as he rummaged inside his bed table with Edna’s wedding portrait upon it. She stared back at us through a gauzy bridal veil, unaware that her dashing groom was about to fuck a scrawny, barely legal boy in their marriage bed.
“Here it is,” Clark proclaimed, producing a small tub of Vaseline. With one hand, he greased up his big cock, working it in and out of his meaty fist—a preview of what was about to happen to my virgin ass. Christ, he was hung like fuck. Getting that huge cock up my ass seemed nearly impossible, but I was up for the challenge.
“On your stomach, ass up,” he commanded as he climbed on the bed, his weight suddenly upon me. I could feel the rounded tip of his cock sliding against my puckered hole, feeling for passage.
“It’s my first time,” I pleaded softly, my timid face turning back towards him. “Please be gentle.”
My hole was ripped in two as Clark plunged into me, a flash of pain coursing through my body. “FUCK,” I screamed, my body writhing uncontrollably beneath him.
“Hold still,” he barked, his muscular arms pushing my hands above my head, his massive weight pinning me to the mattress. “The pain will pass—just give it a minute.”
Ruthlessly, he proceeded to shove that baseball bat between his legs in and out of me, grunting with each thrust. And though it felt like my guts had been permanently rearranged, he was right about the pain—it had passed.
“Mmm, yeah,” I moaned. “Fuck me with that big dick.”
“You like this big dick up your ass, boy?” he taunted, his bull balls smacking my ass with each thrust. “You like this big cock in your pretty, pink cunt?”
“YES,” I cried, gripping the sheets, holding on for dear life as Clark destroyed my virgin hole.
Over and over, his hairy body rubbed against mine, his massive cock routing my depths. My brain turned to jello, my body submitting to him fully. In that moment, my existence was solely for his pleasure, my body an object for his use, my hole a mere chamber in which to deposit his seed. My mind wandered, floating above my body, watching in detachment as this hulk of a man owned my ass.
“You ready for it?” he growled, snapping me back to reality, the bed springs straining against his assault, my head banging against the headboard. “You want my cum?”
“YES,” I begged. “Fucking seed me.”
With Clark’s sweaty body pressed against me, I could feel a low growl building from deep within him, crescendoing with a loud grunt as his big cock erupted inside me, throbbing with each glorious spurt as his warm load filled my cavernous void.
“That’s it, boy,” he kissed my neck, his balls still emptying inside me. “Take my seed.”
Clark pulled out of me with another grunt, my wrecked hole leaking his warm load, his pearly seed streaming down the back of my ballsack and pooling onto the bedsheet. He rolled off me, his wet cock smearing cum across the back of my thigh.
“I’m gonna shower,” he announced, rising off the bed, his spent cock swinging between his legs. “Do me a favor and put these sheets in the wash before Edna comes home.”
Stripping the bed, I collected the sweaty, cum-soaked sheets in my arms and raced downstairs to the laundry room. I was still naked, Clark’s sticky load squished between my ass cheeks. Stepping through the kitchen, I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw her.
“Did you two have fun up there?” Edna asked rhetorically, seated upright at the kitchen table with her handbag in her lap, her lips pursued.
“I—I didn’t—” I began to stammer.
“Shut your mouth, young man,” she snapped. “You’re not the first slutty boy he’s lured to our bed—nor will you be the last.”
“Please—please don’t tell my parents,” I pleaded. “They don’t know that I’m—”
“I’m not telling anyone about this,” her palm raised to silence me. “But I think that after all the things I’ve done for you over the years, all the kindnesses I’ve shown you, you owe me one request.”
“I’ve spent nearly forty years lying on my back for that man,” Edna’s eyes looked up towards the bedroom. “Night after night, staring up at the ceiling, my legs spread wide as he pounded me like a drunken sailor on shore leave with a two-dollar whore. I’m done. He’s all yours now.”
And so I began a new arrangement with the Sampsons next door. Ass up on their bed every afternoon, I gave up my eager hole to Clark—often while Edna was at home doing her needlepoint in the parlor or baking a pie in the kitchen, relieved to be absolved of Clark and his massive cock.
After Clark pumped his thick load into me, my hole wrecked once more, I would often come downstairs to find a plate of Edna’s chocolate chip cookies waiting for me—a thank you for being Clark’s personal cum dump.
Stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults.
