Fisher Manx Stories

Queer erotic stories written by Fisher Manx and friends for people 18+. Pics of hot men in their underwear. Formerly roughrawready. If you're racist, sexist, transphobic, ableist, or in any other way bigoted, gently fuck off please. Full disclosure: none of the pics here belong to me. If you are the subject or owner of a photo and object to my use, please message me directly for its prompt removal.

[havinggaythoughts]

Alpha-DILF

by Clark Wayne

“Awww fuck that’s good,” I said in a deep husky whisper as I descended the thick cock about to be speared up my ass. My eyes were closed, head back, goosebumps on my arms.

“Fuuuuck,” he hissed at the same time as he felt my hole clenching around his thick throbbing cock.  His eyes closed, smile on his face, taking in the erotic euphoria of his cock entering the tight butt of a young, athletic, muscled man above him. Me.

I finally bottomed out on his slick, warm cock.  My own cock fully erect, almost painfully so as the mix of feeling him inside me and the anticipation of the long, hot fuck that was about to transpire filled my brain. My hole was resisting any more stretching that his cock demanded. I felt full but I felt like it belonged there. The burning sensation had begun but I knew if I stuck it out a minute, the burn would subside and fucking would begin.

His ass lifts from the mattress preparing to begin the fucking he has looked forward to all week. I took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “Hold on a second, bud. Let me get used to it,” I said with a strained voice. I slowly gyrate my ass to allow my tight hole to conform to his cock. I feel like his cock is in my gut. My hard cock bobbing up and down with the motion.

Both his hands on either side of my thighs, his warm hands pressing against them as if to hold me in place. Like I’d go anywhere!  He starts to push up into my hole once again. There is small sharp pain but it subsides after a few seconds of bearing down, stretching my hole, allowing more room for his cock to expand into when he eventually shoots.

“You good?” he asks.

He grew inpatient and thrust into me, raising my body.

“Aghh!” I blurted out, not expecting that. “Whoa. Not so fast, dude,” I begged with gritted teeth, breathing in and out quickly. He stopped for a few seconds, only to look me straight in the eye in defiance of my request and thrust up hard taking my breath away. Fucker. I knew he wouldn’t show mercy. He never does.

I fell forward and placed my hands on his hard pecs for balance. My body, bent forward, my ass sticking out farther allowed his cock to saw its way deeper into my clenching, hungry hole.

I tense my body making my muscles flex as he commences his jack-hammer fucking up into me. He likes it when my muscles swell, turn red, veins popping, knowing he did that to another man. Seeing a man like me strain, moan, sweat, beg for his cock, it makes him feel powerful, superior. He is. He is right now.  And I like seeing the pleasure and satisfaction on his face, a result of my body being used for his enjoyment. I feel honored that a man of his caliber chose me as the vessel to dump his loads into. He looked up at me, he knows that’s what I’m thinking right now and showed me a cocky sneer. He can be such a prick.

I ran my hands down his cobblestone abs and then back up to his chest. My bright white teeth clenched and my eyes squeezed shut as I feel the ecstasy of the man under me completely owning my ass. He knows he does. He knows he’s the only type of guy who could own my ass. He had me wrapped around his little finger. I was addicted to his cock and he was addicted to fucking my college-jock ass. The power he exudes turns me on, drives me into frenzy, makes me question my choices and my sexuality. He’s cocky and arrogant at the thought of landing an otherwise straight frat-boy like me.

He’s not your typical 40ish-year-old man. I’m not quite sure how old he is because I don’t care. He’s hot as fuck, experienced, confident and knows how to turn a guy like me into his slobbering little bitch. I do know he’s married with a kid. He had the good sense to stay in shape after getting married and starting a family. He’s starting to gray around his temples, his face starting to show some lines but they only make him more handsome and sexy.  DILF is an understatement when it comes to this man. His body is insane. I’ve seen old pictures of him from his college days as an All-American football player, he’s in better shape now in his 40’s than he was at 20. In my opinion, he deserves to be a cocky arrogant prick. He’s older, he’s hot as fuck and he’s boning the hell out of a hot fratboy half his age, who, until a few months ago, had never been with a dude and had never planned to.

Taking me by surprise, he takes more control, slams his hands onto my chest and pushes me backward onto my back.

“Whoa!” The word comes out of my mouth strained and a little high pitched. I’ve lost my balance as he pushed me back. His cock expelling itself from my now empty hole. But I like it when he gets aggressive and takes control never giving me advanced notice of his plan to own my ass.

He aggressively grabs my ankles and hoists them up on top of his shoulders. I smile at the thrill of having his 210 pounds of muscle throw my 200-pounds of muscle around like a rag doll. He bites his bottom lip and grunts as he rams his cock down into my ass.

“Fuck yeah,” I try to yell out but he puts his hand over my mouth and presses down hard. We’re fucking in my room at the frat so I gotta be fucking quiet. Luckily, it’s a Sunday and most of the guys are gone for the weekend but still better to be safe than sorry. And he thinks it’s funny to test the boundaries. He laughs sometimes when he’s fucking me so hard that I have to put a pillow over my face and scream into it. “Shhhh, pretty boy. You don’t want your buds to know you’re in here getting boned, do you?” It makes me mad but then it sends more adrenaline through my body to my dick and I like it.

He sneers at me again while staring into my eyes like lasers. I can’t look away. I’m ashamed at my behavior but at the same time overwhelmed with the excitement I feel when he’s inside me. He’s an Alpha and he’s good at it. He’s found that I respond well to being “Alphaed.” I know I’m just as hot as he is and just as masculine but wouldn’t you get cocky and arrogant knowing you’re able to dominate and fuck the alpha out of another guy? Of course, you would.

“You like that,” he grins, pulling his hand from my mouth while holding my eyes hostage with his own. He then folds me in half, my knees up near my ears. My breath labors as my airway is slightly constricted. I try to answer but all that I can do is grunt. Sweat drips from his forehead and falls into my mouth. I instinctively lick my lips and stick out my tongue to catch more of his salty essence.

He watches me lick up his sweat and grins, it turns him on. “Yeah, like that,” he confirms.

My face is flushed. Half from humiliation and half from the strain of taking his hard fuck. Why in the fuck do I love this so much? Why do I love these bouts of humiliation, denigration and shame knowing I’m being fucked by another man? I’ve never wanted to get fucked before. I mean, I’m not a homophobe. I’m secure enough in my masculinity to say, truthfully, I’ve always found athletic, muscular athletes somewhat attractive. Mostly, I thought it was mutual admiration for the time and discipline it takes to keep our bodies on point. I’m not blind. I knew when a guy was sexy. It’s as if I was proud to be considered a part of an elite club where all the members where athletic, muscular, masculine, cocky and alpha. Being around other alphas was like crack for me. The camradarie, the bonding of men of the same caliber was addictive.

Then I met him.

I guess it’s cliché but we met at the gym. I strutted into the weight room one day, gym bag in one hand, jug of water in the other and I glimpsed him from across the room over the vast array of free-weights. My breath was suddenly taken away and my stomach dropped. Damn! Who is that? I paused a second and thought about what just went through my head. Why did I just have that reaction looking at another dude. There was something about him that made me weak in the knees. I felt like a 14-year-old girl meeting her first crush. Hypnotized, I worked my way over to his area. He was working his shoulders. I wasn’t even supposed to work my shoulders that day but he was at the shoulder press and damn it, so was I.

There was a tiny bit of eye contact. Then sometimes intense eye contact that made my heart skip a beat. I’d never had this feeling before around a dude. He was tall and solid. I was intimidated and trust me, no one intimidates me. I’m the one that does the intimidating. I know I’m hot and I use that to my advantage every day. I grabbed some dumbbells and took the bench next to him. I sneaked looks at him through the mirror as I did my sets. I got up to put the weights back on the rack and grabbed some heavier ones. I looked in to the mirror and he was looking back at me, well, at my ass. For some reason, that made me excited. Another dude is blatantly checking out my ass. Nice! I turned to the bench, looked at him and gave a friendly nod. He nodded back.  

We both proceeded to go about our workouts but never straying too far from one another. Later I saw him look at his watch and then to me. He nodded to me again as if to say “See ya later” and made his way to the exit.

After a couple days of nods and awkward staring, finally I said hello. It was a short “Hey. How’s it goin?” and that broke the ice. Small talk ensued. The next day more small talk and the next day full conversations. I was an idiot and didn’t notice for a week or so that he was working out at the same time as I was every day. Stalking me? How was I supposed to know? I just thought it was an innocent bromance. Mutual admiration. Our conversations were usually about nutrition, fitness goals, gym talk, typical guy stuff.

I started to get excited to see him every day. I made sure I was at the gym at the same time every day, never late. I was still an idiot. I didn’t get what was happening to me. Once again, I assumed it was idol worship or something. Here was an older guy, old enough to be my dad and his body put most every other guy’s body in that gym to shame…except mine, of course. And he was damned handsome. I just wanted to be like him. No, I wanted to be him. I sought his attention and admiration. I thought about him all the time, what he was doing, where he was while I was on dates with girls.

One day he suggested that since we were at the gym the same time every day that we should lift together. I was psyched! We had the same goals, the main one, obviously, to become even hotter than we were. He was a great mentor. That’s what I saw him as, I thought. He was older and more experienced and he taught me things about lifting and nutrition that I’d never known. What started off as two lifting partners motivating each other to push harder, quickly became competing egos trying to out-lift the other. Always lifting heavier, doing more cardio, comparing body fat percentage. Everything was a contest. He was trying to kick my ass as much as I was trying to kick his.

The more we competed the more I saw changes in my body. His too. Our muscles became harder, tighter. We were becoming more cut and defined. I spent way too much time naked in front of my mirror. Way too many shirtless selfies. It became normal to shoot him a shirtless selfie and within minutes he would do the same. Usually with some funny but demeaning comment about my pic. But I knew he was impressed by my gains. I could tell be the way he looked at me sometimes when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. I was more confident, as if I needed any more confidence. I felt more superior to other guys around me than I did before, except him.

I started to become a little aroused when he started to show off and wear compression gear, showing off his gains, the gear challenging me to look at his progress every day and know that everyone else in the gym could see it too. It wasn’t long until I sported the same compression gear.  The first time I showed up in my new Underarmour gear, he just shook his head and laughed. “Couldn’t help yourself, could ya?” He said. “I’m not letting you get all the attention, old man,” I jabbed back. The attention we received was fucking euphoric. Some guys thought we were father and son which just made me proud that someone would assume that. It meant that we were alike in more ways than I thought. This was when he started to become more “hands on?”

He had never been shy about touching. He was always patting me on the shoulder or my back. Sometimes a playful squeeze of the back of my neck. He liked to roughly grip my biceps and tell me big they were or arm days. He always told me I looked good or I was getting great gains. Lots of compliments the more time passed. By this time, we had become like best friends, not a dad/son relationship that most thought we had but more of a big brother/little brother. We talked about normal stuff during our workouts; his wife and kid, my dates, my classes, his work. I met his wife a few times when I would come over to hang out and watch a game with him or play some video games.  His kid was a shit, a teenage version of his dad, that’s why he was cocky and arrogant like his dad but then what do you expect from a 16-year-old who has the genetics of this guy. The wife never questioned why her husband was hanging out with a guy half his age because we had so much in common. She always said I was born 20 years too late. It was always funny when I came over, she’d answer the door and yell back, “Honey! You’re boyfriend’s here!” That always got me to blush.

After a few months, he started working gay innuendoes into his playful banter. He gave me a nickname, Pretty Boy. He liked to refer to me as his bitch around other guys at the gym.  He’d make jokes whenever we saw a gay guy working out, “that one’s hot, bet he wants to fuck you,” and commenting on what a nice ass I had…for a guy.

The one that really got my attention was when we were drunk. He’d say shit like “if we were gay, I’d fuck you.” I always laughed it off but it began to really turn me on. He said it all the time whenever the beer flowed. Hell, I would be the luckiest gay guy in the world to have him fuck me. He always joked that I would be the bottom in the relationship. At first it was uncomfortable for a guy like me to even consider being fucked, let alone gay. After a few times hearing it though, I grew to like it.  It made me feel warm inside.

As the innuendos became more prevalent, I started to feel like a boyfriend more than a brother or even a son. He treated me like one and I let him. He liked to shop with me and pick out my clothes. He picked out my workout gear, making me try on every item and modeling it for him. He was very adamant about telling me if he didn’t like something and I shouldn’t buy it. He always made sure I was on time for class with texts because he had learned my class schedule. He gave his opinion on the girls I dated, usually bad opinions. He’d text me to make sure I got home ok after my dates. He’d pay for movies, dinners, game tickets. He wouldn’t let me drive when we went out even if we were taking my car. He was becoming more possessive and controlling but for some reason, I didn’t care. I liked it. I craved his approval.

Then the strangest thing happened. We were once mistaken to be a gay couple one night when we stumbled across a gay pride beer garden while out drinking one night. We didn’t even know we were in a gay bar for about five minutes until we saw a couple of dudes kissing each other. We were trashed. I remember seeing dudes kissing and turned to him and asked, “Dude, are we in a gay bar?”

He laughed, put his arm around me, his breath reeking of beer and said, “I think we are, pretty-boy. Don’t worry. If anyone tries anything, tell them you’re with me.”

I laughed. “With you? You mean like my boyfriend?”

He pulled me in closer. “Fuck yeah, baby! You know we would be. You know you’re my bottom boy,” he laughed.

I laughed again and pushed him away as he playfully punched me in the shoulder. Every guy in that bar turned and looked at us, whispering, pointing.

“Hey. Nice ass,” said a voice from a sea of faces.

“No shit. I’d like ten minutes alone with those two,” I heard another voice say.

“I bet the older one is the bottom,” another guy said with a low gravelly voice.

My best buddy stopped and turned. He put his arm around my shoulder.

“Sorry boys. You’ll have to settle for look but don’t touch,” he flirted.  “But this one…” he pointed at me, “this one loves it hard and rough. Don’t ya pretty boy.” He winked at me.

“Fuck off, asshole,” I laughed as I punched him in the shoulder. “You wish.”

He winked again as we made our way towards the bar.

“What was that all about, you dick? Why would you tell them something like that?” I asked.

“Uh, because they loved it. We’re hot. Look around. We’re the hottest dudes in here.” he slurred.

“But we’re not gay,” I said confused.

“They don’t care, pretty-boy. They know we’re straight. A gay dude likes nothing more than to think he can turn a hot straight guy. Besides, a hole is a hole.”

I raised my eyebrows when he said that.

“What? Don’t be so fucking uptight. Have some fun!” Then, suddenly, he gave me a quick wet kiss on the cheek, “when in Rome!” and then shouted, “SHOTS!” as he grabbed my hand and dragged me to the bar. His hand was warm and big. I looked down at our hands intertwined as he pulled me through the sea of men. I wasn’t repulsed and I didn’t want to let go.

We spent the rest of that night drinking shots, which we never had to pay for. Dudes were paying for our drinks all night. I found myself shirtless on the dance floor a few times, that was a surprise.

At one point, I lost track of him. He was gone for about fifteen minutes. But some muscled up Hispanic dude kept me company while he was gone. Nice guy. Name was Hector. Dude was fit as fuck. Big and masculine, hunger in his eyes. Must be an alpha-gay if that’s a thing. We played a game of hunter/prey. I wasn’t looking to hunt anyone but I didn’t want him to think I was prey. It was a lot of staring each other down, only I was trying not to come off as gay. Hector on the other hand, he was making it perfectly clear that he was gay and I was his next conquest. I tried to keep myself at arm’s distance but he just kept getting in my space.  I fed off his masculine aura. It was like our energies were grazing and sending electric shocks up into our bodies.  After ten minutes, I found myself right up against him. He smelled like soap and musk. His hand made its way to my lower back as we chatted. It was strange but at the same time, erotic. Hector was a cool guy. Kept grabbing my ass though.

Finally, host shows up with some gay dude named Tyler or Taylor, or whatever.  I asked him where he’d been. He evaded the question and just mussed up my hair and drank my beer.  The kid was about my age and had a very cut, solid body. Not as good looking as me but I could see why gay dudes would like him.  Tyler was totally into the older guy and he was definitely interested in me. More than a few times, Tyler tried to cop a feel. Hector immediately gave him the stink-eye. We were all introduced and we all hung out and drank, danced, goofed off. It was a surprisingly fun night. Hector continued to try to get in my space all night but finally he gave up and went off to find someone else to stalk.

The next morning, late, we met up to work out and we laughed and talked about how fucked up we were the night before. Like I said, I’m an idiot. I have no problem being ogled by gay dudes, it’s flattering. He didn’t have an issue with it either. By the time I got home last night my thoughts about the evening were far from uncomfortable. I had just spent the last four hours in a gay bar with my best buddy, getting hit on by dudes, letting them buy us drinks and ogle us and it was the best time I’ve had in ages. I was hung over as fuck but I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was get here to the gym to see him again.

It was leg day. He liked leg days, he loved squats. It seemed like we did an awful lot of them. I was squatting some insane amount of weight and he decided I needed a spot. I thought it was odd since he had never spotted me before while squatting. He stood behind me, his groin pressed to my ass, hands on my waist and he shadowed me, ready to grab the bar if it became too heavy for me. He was a little close to me during that spot but I didn’t say anything. I liked it. I’m a narcissist. Squat day was my favorite because my ass had become a work of art since I started lifting with him. High, tight and hard. Like I said, today he was much closer than normal during a spot. He pressed his groin hard into my ass and continued to do so throughout the whole movement. My dick became stiff.  I returned the weight to the rack quickly since I may need to cover up the fact I was getting stiff in spandex Nike tights.

That’s when everything changed.

“Good boy. Ass is looking good, buddy,” he said nonchalantly as he smacked my left cheek. I flinched.

“Hey!” I yelled as I rubbed the spot here he slapped me with my hand.

His hand slapping against my compression tights was loud, echoed in the room. His hand was cupped and I felt a slight squeezing pressure from his hand. First, he’s never told me my ass looks good except when he was teasing me. Second, he grabbed my ass! Third, I fucking liked it.

“What? Those guys from last night were right,” he said matter-of-factly.

He added weight and got into squat position. I assumed he wanted a spot so I positioned myself behind him. That’s when he stood up and turned.

“Whoa. What are you doing?” He asked defensively and pushed me back a step.

I was confused. “I’m spotting you.”

He shook his head. “Oh, no you’re not,” he added defiantly.

“Huh? I spotted you yesterday on the bench press.” I asked, still confused.

He looked me straight in the eye and quietly, forcefully replied, “Back off, pretty-boy. I do not need spotting.”

“Why not? You spotted me.” I threw him a look that said I was getting pissed. “I was just trying to help.”

“Ican spot you on squat days.” He pointed at me. “You don’t spot me. Get it?”

I was dumbstruck. He was dead serious and I was more confused than ever. I was kind of intimidated.

“I… I… Ok,” I stammered.

I watched him squat his set. He had perfect form. His powerful quads flexed and his high and tight ass squeezed together at the top of the movement. When he was done, I added more weight and returned to squat position for my set. He took his place behind me again for a spot. I didn’t say anything and just ignored it. Again, he hugged my body close and put both hands on my waist. Quietly he said in my ear, “I got you. You can do this. Make me proud.” God, did I want to make him proud.

I squatted down to parallel, my bulbous muscled ass sticking out, his cock pressed up against it, nestled in the cleft between my cheeks. I was losing concentration as I tried to lift the weight to stand. He pressed harder.

“Come on. You got this. You’re a fucking stud. You know that. I know that,” he growled from behind while pressing harder into my ass. “Don’t let anything distract you. Up, up, up.”

I pressed the weight up with a loud grunt, my face red and strained as I came to the top, “Now, squeeze that fucking hot ass at the top of the squat,” he whispered. “Get it!”

I squeezed my plump cheeks together at the top. I felt his bulge caught in between them like a nutcracker. I racked the weight and fell to my knees in exhaustion.

He put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed. “Good boy. I knew you could do it.”

Out of breath, “Thanks,” I reply panting. I stayed down, waiting for my cock to soften. After a few minutes, I stand up slowly and lean against the bar, looking at him in the mirror.

He stands behind me and looks around the room, it’s mostly empty. He puts one hand on my waist and the other on my ass. “I’d hit that…hard,” he said, looking at me through the mirror with a very sultry, sexy expression on his handsome face. I must have looked scared or shocked or something. “If I were gay,” he added as he patted my ass. Oh, shit. I was getting hard again.

“I got to piss,” I say as I run to the locker room. I enter an empty stall. I peel down my tights and my jock and grab my hard cock and jerked it until I came all over the stall door. I cleaned it up with toilet paper and open the stall door. I was surprised to find he was standing on the other side.

“Everything ok?” He asked, arms crossed, slight smile.

“Yeah, fine.” I reply.

“Good. I want to kick off early today. I think you’ve had enough spotting…I mean, squatting.”

I could feel myself blushing. “Uh, yeah. I’m ok with quitting early. My legs are killing me.”

“Your ass is killing me…” he said slyly and he turned towards the exit.

***

My phone buzzes that evening as I’m leaving my last class. It’s a text from him. My stomach flutters.

-Hey pick you up at 9

                 *I got a date

-Cancel it

                 *Y?

-Cuz we’re going out again

                 *We went out last night

-Who fucking cares

I stare at the phone. I find it difficult telling him no. Soon I was thinking about how much more fun I would have hanging out with him than her.

                 *Fine

-Good Boy pick you up at 9 pretty boy

***

“Is that what you’re wearing?” He asks, pushing me back into my room.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask as I look down at my shirt.

“Dude. No,” he states as he crosses to my closet.

“Where are those jeans you got last week, the distressed ones?” He rummages through the drawers.

“You mean the skinny jeans you made me buy? They strangled my junk.”

“Here they are.”  He throws them on my bed.

He continues to rummage and toss things around in my closet. He’s bent over and I notice how amazing his ass looks in his tight jeans. Wow, those are tight jeans.

“And here,” he says and tosses me a t-shirt that hits me in the face. I grab it and hold it out.

“No, man. This shirt is way too small. It was borderline too small even when I bought it, before I got big.”

“That’s the point. Dude, you work hard for this body. Show it off. Don’t be a prude. I haven’t made you do a million squats to not show off that ass,” he says with a pat on the shoulder. And that’s when I noticed his t-shirt was also way to tight. Not tight in a bad way. Tight in a sexy way. It molded to his pecs and his triceps. His shoulders were crazy hot. His waist flat and tiny. His back flared at the top and tapered at the bottom.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I stripped down and squeezed my muscular thighs into the tight jeans.

“Where ever the night takes us!” He messes my hair.

“Don’t you have a wife and kid at home?”

“Nope! Wife is out with girlfriends and kid is staying with a buddy.”

“You know for a man your age, you sure don’t act like it.”

He laughs. “That’s why I get to hang out with you.” He grabs my small t-shirt and throws it over my head and slides it down my torso. “Now squeeze that booty into these insanely tight jeans and let’s roll.”

***

After a couple of hours of bar hopping, low and behold, we end up at the same gay bar as last night.

“Again?” I ask, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. “What are you up to?”

“What? Do you not like free alcohol?” He grinned.

I thought about it. Last night was really fun. I guess it wouldn’t hurt. Who doesn’t like free beer and being told you’re hot all night? Even if it is from guys.

“Can’t say no to a free beer.” I patted him on the shoulder as we entered the bar. “Wait. Can we say you’re with ME tonight instead?” I ask as I put my arm over his shoulder.

“Oh, no,” he scoffed. “You’re the bitch.”

“Why am I always the bitch?” I slurred.

“Because, you’re always the bitch when you’re with me,” he said with a gravelly, sultry voice.

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks a lot. At least wear a condom,” I say sarcastically.

“Why? You can’t get pregnant,” he smirks as he grabs my hand and drags me to the bar.

***

Guys were hitting on us left and right. The free beers were rolling in. He was flirting up a storm with any hot dude who complimented him. I always just gave a polite “thanks” whenever a guy hit on me. I was trashed but still was aware of the attention I was receiving in the tightly packed space was from dudes. I was flattered but it’s not their approval I wanted. It was his.

My muscle-head Hispanic, Hector, from last night was back. I was very loose and friendly after my fifth beer. I must say, Hector was looking jacked. Skin tight t-shirt. Painted on jeans. Great traps on him. Great triceps. He chatted me up and bought me a beer. Soon Hector was becoming very handsy but I didn’t care. His warm hands were attached to my ass and I could tell how powerful his hands were from his grip. I admit it felt good and I liked knowing this attractive dude thought I was hot. Hector handed me a whiskey shot, of course, I downed it. Over the next few minutes the guy was getting closer and closer, rubbing my lower back then down to my ass again. I flinched when I realized the hunky Latino was pushing his index finger against my hole through my jeans. I grabbed his hand the first few times and laughed it off. Hector gave me another shot. I was really fucking hammered by now. I started to like it that he thought my ass was so hot. He began to be more forceful, more aggressive. His hand slid down into my underwear, his warm fingers rubbing my ass. I was frozen. Why was I letting him do this to me? His finger grazed my hole. He was taking what he wanted. I respected that. I decided to just let him play for a while. I looked at Hector a few times. Damn, this dude was stacked. I knew he could see I was scanning his ripped torso. I couldn’t help it. He was doing the same to me. He grabbed my bicep with his other hand and squeezed. His finger still rubbing along the edge of my hole. How he could even get his hand back there in these tight jeans was a wonder but then I don’t think this was his first rodeo. I stood there and just took it.

Hector leaned into me. “Ditch your daddy. Follow me outside. I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby,” Hector said bluntly.

I spit my beer. “What?” I said not quite knowing what was happening.

Hector sneered at me, his voice became forceful and deep.

“Don’t play that.” Hector ran his hand over my chest, down my abs and around to my ass. “You’re advertising what you’re selling. And I’m buying,” he growled as he grabbed my ass hard.

“Uh…thanks, man but I don’t think that’s going to happen.” I laughed it off uncomfortably.

Hector got a little more forceful and grabbed my forearm and tried to pull me away.

“You let me play with your pussy for the last ten minutes and now you’re fucking bailing? Fuck that, I want that white-boy muscle-pussy.”

I grabbed Hector’s hand that was holding my arm. I cocked my elbow up, fist tight ready to strike. I’m about to lay Hector out when out of nowhere a hand shoots out and grabbed Hector’s arm.

“He’s with me,” came a low growl.

He must have been watching me and saw that Hector was bothering me.

The guy looked him up and down, sizing him up and then got in his face. “Nah, old man. He’s with me tonight. You’re not even paying attention to him. Left this sweet, sweet muscle pussy alone and out in the open? You had your chance. Dude is mine.”

“I said, he’s with me and I’m always paying attention to him,” he growled as he pushed Hector back away. My best friend was sloppy drunk and slurring his words.

I got between them. “Guys. Stop. It’s ok.” I say as I turn to him. “I can take care of myself, dude. Chill the fuck out.”

“No, it’s not ok. This guy thinks he can just fucking take what’s mine?” His eyes were seething as he stared down the young Hispanic stud.

I turned to him. “I’m sorry, what?” I asked shocked.

He lashes forward, pointing a finger at Hector as I held him back. “If anyone will be fucking him tonight, it will be me, fucker!” Again, I’m shocked but, yet turned on.

Hector sneers at him. “Oh please. Why would he let an old man like you fuck an ass like this?” Hector said as he smacked my ass.

“Because he needs an old man like me who has the experience to fuck him like he needs it, asshole.”

“I’ve been playing with this ass for the last ten minutes with no complaints from him, old man,” Hector bragged with a cocky sneer.

He shot a look at me. “What?”

My jaw dropped. I looked to each of them.  “What?… No!… Huh?” I was speechless. I was trying to play stupid. I was also a terrible liar. I did let Hector mess around with me. I didn’t say anything. I just let him do it.

I looked at my friend. His bloodshot eyes pierced mine. He pointed his finger into my chest. “You let this muscle-douche touch MY shit?”

I stood back. “Wait. Ok, I think I’m too fucked up. I’m not sure what the fuck is happening right now and in fact, I feel a little sick.” I started to head for the restroom. He grabbed my bicep and held me in place.

“Did. You. Let. Him. Touch. YOU?” His face was red. His jaw clenched.

“No! Yes. I mean… dude, I’m really fucked up right now. Can we just go, please?”

Hector stepped forward. “I’ll take care of him. Why don’t you go on home and I’ll make sure I feed him breakfast before he leaves my place in the morning.”

I thought fists were going to start flying. I’m watching them exchange jabs and talking about who can fuck me the best and I am in disbelief that this is even happening. It was hot to have these two hot alpha guys fight over me. It was even hotter to hear him talk about our sex life like it really is a thing. Apparently, I’m a slutty muscle-bottom who likes it hard and rough?

“Tell him!” he turns and says to me.

I look at him confused. “Tell him what?”

“Tell this douche how much you like it when I fuck you!”

Whoa! What the fuck is going on here? I pull him aside and whisper, “Uh, dude? What the fuck are you doing? You can stop with the role play bullshit. The guy is an asshole. Let it go.”

“NO!” he yells in to my face. “He can’t come in here and just fucking do to you what he wants.”

“And he won’t! I’m not letting some dude fuck me. Are you crazy? You are fucking blitzed and not making sense. Dude, you know me, you know what I am capable of. I can kick his ass all over this bar.”

“Don’t care,” he spat as he talked. “Don’t care. I’ll fucking kill him if he touches you again. What the fuck are you thinking letting another dude touch you?”

“Ok, I think you are taking this fake boyfriend thing a little too far. Let’s bolt.” I said with a fake smile.

“Tell him!” he growls again. I freeze. He turns to Hector. By this time, we are surrounded by the whole bar, all watching and whispering. He stares down Hector. “He fucking loves it when I fuck him. You know what? He likes it rough, he likes it hard. He loves my cum in his ass. He wants it all the fucking time. Don’t you?” he asks me, eyes bloodshot, his words slurring more than ever.

Everyone is staring at me. One guy a few feet away says to his friend, “It’s always the butch ones…” They giggle and laugh.

I look at him again with disbelief in my face.

“Don’t you?!” He asks again.

I roll my eyes and turn to Hector. This had to end now. Very robotically I say, “Yes. I love it when he fucks me. He fucks me hard and rough and I always want more. Happy?” I ask as I turn back to him.

He stared into my eyes. He looked towards Hector and then back to me. “I’m the only guy who fucks you,” he states, his eyes bloodshot. His jaw is clenched. “You’re mine…and you know it!” He pushes me away and heads toward the bathroom.

Hector steps over to me. “Whatever dude. If you want that old man dick in your pussy than fine with me. Funny. I could have sworn you were straight when you came in here last night. Both of you. Guess I was wrong. Here I thought I was gonna turn some fresh confused straight-boy ass…but it looks like HE is.” And he walked away.

A few minutes later, he came out of the bathroom and grabbed my hand. He pulled me onto the dance floor.

“Let’s dance,” he grinned. He was suddenly in a much better mood. Note to self, he’s an angry drunk.

“I really don’t want to dance right now. Let’s get out of here.” I’m pissed. I start to leave.

He whips off his tight shirt and then grabs mine and pulls it over my head. I stop in my tracks and take in that amazing body. Wow. Damn. Why do I get this way around him? Does he really want to get with me? Do I want to get with HIM? What the fuck? I’m not gay. He’s not gay. Is he? Confusion coursed through my head.

He pulled me in closer and began dancing. Damn, he’s a fucking great dancer. Every muscle flexing as he moves his body, gyrating and thrusting. He smiles at me. I laugh at him, not sure what is happening or what I should do.

He pulls me closer, face to face. His eyes piercing mine. His hands roam up my biceps to my shoulders. I hypnotically move closer, nose to nose. His sky-blue eyes are like mirrors, hypnotizing me. I find my hands settling on his waist. Do I want to kiss him? I don’t know what I’m doing but I want to kiss him. Nope. I can’t. I can’t do this. I cannot fucking do this. But before I can pull away, his hand is on the back of my head and he pulls me in and plants his lips on mine. I close my eyes and then open them, hoping this is all a bad dream. But it’s not. He pushes me back. We just stare at each other for what seems like minutes. His eyes are telling me to keep going. He wants this. I want this. I want him. Our lips crash back together and suddenly we can’t get enough of each other. His tongue invades my throat. I suck on it as we feverishly kiss. Our hands are moving over our sweaty muscular bodies, finally getting to touch what we’ve both longed for, for months. We make out for song after song. Both rock hard. He moves around behind me, spoons me and I can feel his hard cock encased in his tight jeans pressing into my ass. He holds me around the waist and hugs me tight as he thrusts against me. He pulls my head back against his shoulder, turns my head and kisses me. He’s so forceful, so powerful, so dominate. I fucking want him. I want him in the worst way. I already know what he wants from me. What do I want from him? I want to please him. I want him to take pleasure from my body. I want to do anything he wants me to do so he can get off and be satisfied and satiated. I feel him thrust his cock against my ass again as he grunts into my ear.  His hand slides down into my underwear and I feel his fingertip on my hole. FUCK! I have to do it. I lay my head back on his shoulder.

“Are you going to fuck me?” I’m panting. I gave in. I said the words. I wanted nothing but to be with him. And I wanted him inside me.

He spins me around and kisses me again. He looks at me and presses his forehead to mine.

“Yes.” He’s calm, our foreheads touching. Sweat rolling down our faces. My cock is aching so much it hurts. I reach down and feel his cock, stroke it. It’s thick. We’re both breathing hard.

“I guess I am your bitch,” I say quietly, matter-of-factly.

“You always have been.”

[email protected]

[strppdinchgostories]

Holy fuck

[fishermanxstories]

Fuckin' HOT stroke story, @havinggaythoughts !

[gaydiationpoisoning-deactivated]

If you are an adult on the receiving end of sexual attention from a minor, the only appropriate response is a firm, non-negotiable “no.” Not an “I would, but the darn law…” not, “maybe when you’re eighteen,” a “no.” It is your job as the adult to be responsible, and to not abuse the power differential between you. What the minor wants is irrelevant to your obligations. The only appropriate response is “no.”

[profeminist]

[yokaishinari]

“Just because a girl knows how to imitate a woman, does not mean she’s ready to do what a woman does”

[the-end-of-pedos]

Also just in case anyone was wondering, that gifset is from a FANTASTIC movie called “Hard Candy” in which a minor gets intense revenge on a pedophile. It’s amazing. 

[spearmint-milkshake]

I hate hearing about stories of minors having “affairs” with older people and some idiot wil always be like “well to be fair [child] pursued [adult]!” No. Fuck off. That’s not a bloody excuse. 

[fishermanxstories]

This is also appropriate for the Gays, too. No excuses--be a fucking adult.

[graybeards]

One Last Present

Jeff wiggled his toes and flexed the tendons lining his size thirteen feet against my kneading hands. He leaned back on the couch with closed eyes, clad only in a pair of dark blue boxers interrupting the expanse of his pale Irish flesh. On my knees with the flickering light of the television behind me, I ran my soft fingers over his calloused soles.

“That feels fantastic,” he murmured, sliding his hands over his firm chest and belly. “You have great hands.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

He quietly smirked at my deference and said, “My sons barely even look up from their phones when they come home for Christmas, but here you are… showing the proper respect. There just might be hope for your generation yet.”

I glanced around the living room, scraps of wrapping paper still glinting light from the tree in the dim room. We were the last ones awake in the silent house. I’d been drifting off on the couch—exiled since my boyhood bedroom was converted into a guest room after I left for college—when Uncle Jeff strolled out half-asleep for a drink. This was only his second Christmas with us, since he married my aunt, but my last year had been peppered with fantasies about him. 

He had grunted a greeting as I gaped at his nearly-naked body and the heft in his boxers. Ignoring the other chairs, he’d pushed my feet aside and slumped onto the couch beside me. We’d watched a show in silence as he gulped his water, until I finally mustered the boldness to whisper, “Do you want a foot rub?” A nod was all the indication he had given me, but it was more than enough to send me to my knees at his feet.

The house was still quiet, but I listened for the sound of footsteps as I rubbed Jeff’s enormous toes between my soft fingers. He said, “Your aunt never does this for me anymore. I should have known she’d be trouble when she left the ‘obey’ out of her marriage vows. I hardly feel like the master of my own house anymore.”

I gazed up at him with awe-filled eyes and whispered, “But you’re like a paragon of manhood. You’re tall and strong. You have that commanding voice like a leader of men.”

“You think so, huh?” Jeff raised a bushy eyebrow. “You could…” he let his words hang but I was already nodding, “…lick my toes. If you want.”

I let out a small, excited sigh that brought the grin back to his face. We watched each other, scrutinizing every little reaction, as I raised his heavy foot from my lap to my face. He wiggled his toes and I licked my lips.

“That’s it, boy,” Jeff muttered.

I leaned forward and parted my lips for his enormous toe. Its meaty underbelly covered my tongue from end to end as I licked it, soaking up the savory flavors of a long day. I sealed my lips around him and gently sucked. I let out muffled moans and he pressed the pads of his other toes to my cheek. His thick nail scraped against the roof of my mouth as he shoved it deeper.

He folded his arms behind his head and stared down the furry plateau of his torso at me. He said, “Your mother’s raising you right. Such a good, obedient young man. Try the other one.” He lifted his other foot to my lips and shoved his inside as he pressed his dripping toe to my forehead and covered my cheek with his sole.

I moaned as he rubbed his soles over my face, letting me lick every inch of his massive feet. In flashes when his toes weren’t pressed over my eyes, I watched his hand descend to the growing bulge in his boxers. He hauled out the largest dick I’d seen in my life and began to stroke that uncoiling snake into a rigid rod.

“You like being my little slave. Don’t you?” Jeff growled as he rose from his chair, planting one foot on the floor and pressing the other down on my upturned face. “It’s so fucking hot how you’re submitting to me.”

“Please use me, sir,” I mumbled against the fleshy pad of the ball of his foot.

“Hmm. Since you’ve been such a good boy,” Jeff said with a smile, “I’ll let you be my cum rag for the evening.” He planted his feet wide and pulled me up, face-to-face with his cock as he casually squeezed it. He held my head as he pumped the leaky shaft, spitting globs of precum onto my waiting face. “God, that’s so fucking hot.”

He howled and his whole body spasmed, channeling all his strength into his manhood until it bombarded my face with a thick and lengthy rope of cum splattering from the crown of my head to the tip of my chin. Like an unwieldy firehose, he gripped it hard and sprayed every inch of my face with his seed. He pumped out so much I imagined he’d need a beach towel as a cum rag.

I glimpsed him standing over me through my eyelashes as his cum subsided and dried on my face. Jeff had an enormous grin and he was patting his belly with satisfied sighs. He marveled, “You’d do just about anything I told you to, wouldn’t you?”

His cum flooded into my mouth when I parted my lips, and I sputtered, “Of course, sir.”

“Good, good. I think I deserve one more Christmas surprise. Something I’ve never done before.” Jeff’s voice was hasty, at a higher pitch with excitement. “I’m so glad I didn’t go before I came out here.”

I felt his floppy dick against my lips and I parted them for it. I mumbled around it, “What is it?”

“Just don’t stop swallowing,” he growled. “Here it comes.”

His hot, acrid piss hit my tongue like a shot of liquor. I coughed at the sudden bitterness, but found my mouth filling up.

“Drink it!” He commanded, and I obeyed. I felt a gulp of it sliding down my throat and could barely rest before I had to swallow again and again. I only realized he’d been holding back when I finally drained my mouth for just a moment. Piss began pouring from him in an enormous, endless stream until I could feel the fullness in my stomach. He moaned, “That’s a good slave, my little human urinal.”

When he finished, he whipped his heavy cock against his palm, sending the last few drops onto my drenched face. “Damn, you’re the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten,” Jeff said. “It’s funny, I’ve never felt more like a man than I did just now. We’re going to have to see a lot more of each other.”

I just stayed on my knees as he stuffed himself back in his pajamas, and I whispered, “Merry Christmas, Uncle Jeff.”

[fishermanxstories]

Fuuuuuuuuuck, @graybeards!

[muscledads-deactivated20190524]

[graybeards]

I tensed the first time someone mistook him for my father. It could be a sore subject for men his age, but Jacob just smiled so I followed his lead. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pressed me to his iron chest.

Before, it had been simple—we liked to kiss, to fuck, to cook, to chat, to anything we could do together—but that moment emboldened me. I asked if I could call him ‘dad’, with a half-joking tone to diminish the weight of my request, but Jacob wasn’t convinced. He heard the strain in my voice and kissed me as he answered, “Of course, son.”

I smiled wide and pushed him back on the couch, climbing astride his big body, and rode him at a gallop until he drenched my insides. His sweaty, muscled chest flexed when he folded his hands behind his head with a satisfied grin. His balls were bone dry, emptied into me, but his cock was still rigid as steel.

Jacob grabbed my wrist when I reached down to stroke myself, and he growled, “No, son. Just relax and think about how good dad’s dick feels.” His fingers dug into my slender hips as he thrusted upward and held me aloft. With slow, rhythmic movements, he pulled back until his thick head plopped out before burying it back in my dripping hole. “You like that, son?”

“Oh god yes, dad,” I howled. My aching hard dick drizzled precum with every drive. “Breed my pussy with your big daddy dick, sir.”

“Good boy, son.” Jacob rubbed his hairy crotch to my smooth ass, digging around in me with his buried cock. “Your pussy’s so hungry for dad. It’s begging for more of my fertile seed, isn’t it? Just think how beautiful you’d look with dad’s baby in your belly.” He ran his fingers up over my lean stomach and I lost control.

I howled and spasmed in his grasp as he let me fall down, impaled on his manhood. I spurted thick ropes of cum on the man’s powerful chest as he pounded up into me with a sudden frenzy. Dad’s face contorted, his teeth bared as beads of sweat ran down his cheeks.

He flipped us over with me on my back, coming down on top of me and slamming his cock into me with the force of punch after punch. Mixed with his sweat, my own cum came dripping back down onto me as dad’s heavy nuts slapped against my ass. He grunted breathlessly, “You’re my little slut, son. Nice warm cunt for dad’s cock. You want to me to put a baby brother in your pussy, boy?”

“Fuck yes, sir! Breed your little bitch, dad.” I begged and it pushed him over the edge. Dad’s cock erupted inside me and he collapsed on top of me, pushing his cum deeper with hard, brief thrusts into my sensitive hole.

Jacob stayed buried in me when he lifted himself up a bit to recover with deep, growling breaths as he grinned down at me. He scooped up a glob of my cum still plastered to his chest and rubbed it into my abs as he said, “Good boy, son. Your pussy’s more fertile when I make you cum. You’re going to look so beautiful all swollen up with my boy growing in you. I wasn’t sure if you’d like that, but…” He grinned down at his dripping chest.

“It’s like you were in my head,” I admitted, blushing. “It was perfect.”

“We’re just getting started, son.” Dad pulled his half-hard dick from my drenched cunt and stood up to stretch, flexing his enormous, muscled body. “I sure worked up an appetite. Why don’t you make us some dinner while I hit the showers?”

“I’d be happy to, dad.”

Jacob beamed proudly down at me. “I think I like the obedient new you.” He ran his fingers over my smooth chest and said, “By the way, you won’t be wearing clothes in the house anymore, son.”

My heart sped in my chest as I jokingly whined, “But what if I get cold?”

“Then you’ll just ask dad to warm you up.” He lifted me up to sit and pressed my face to his hairy belly, stroking my hair as I felt the heat radiating from him. “You live under my roof, and you’ll live by my rules from now on, son.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, grinning against him.

[fishermanxstories]

More @graybeards hotness!

[graybeards]

A Big Birthday with Dad

I couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten this close to me. Warm hand clasping my shoulder, arm across my back, he squeezed me back against his barrel chest. The man hadn’t offered anything more than a handshake in years, but now I was close enough to smell the beer on his breath behind me as I sat at the bar stool.

“One more round,” he bellowed past me.

“I need to close up,” the bartender replied, gesturing around the empty bar.

“Come on, man,” dad insisted, “my son only turns twenty-one once.”

The bartender reluctantly poured another, a pint of beer and a vodka soda, and pushed them in front of us. “Happy birthday.” 

Dad and I clashed our glasses and he squeezed me hard as he took a big gulp. I sipped, swimming in a haze of inebriation as I savored the feeling of his powerful body against mine. “Thanks for coming down to celebrate, dad,” I slurred. 

“Of course!” He said, ruffling my hair and releasing me from his embrace to take a seat at the bar. “I just can’t believe your friends all tapped out so early.”

“I guess we’re not usually the biggest drinkers.”

“So that’s how you stay so damn skinny.” He slapped his round gut, stretching his flannel shirt like a bowling ball, and grinned. “But the ladies don’t seem to mind this too much.” 

“They don’t?” I asked, smiling as I watched him empty the rest of his glass down his gullet before he let out a rancid belch.

“Act a little more surprised, why don’t ya?” Dad teased. “I bet I nail more girls than you do.”

“Seems like a safe bet,” I laughed, rolling my eyes.

“Your roommate was nice.”

“Ben? Yeah, he’s alright.”

“You guys ever…?” Dad let the words hang as he took a sip of my still-full drink.

“He’s a bottom,” I confided, blushing after the fact.

Dad raised an eyebrow and said, “I figured as much when he stuffed his hand down my pants.” 

“What?” I gasped. “You’re kidding.” He shook his head and downed the vodka. I asked, “Sorry, I guess he was just drunk.”

“To tell the truth, I didn’t mind,” dad whispered with a grin. “I wondered if—feel free to say no—but would you care if he and I…?”

I winced and grasped the bar with white, hot jealousy. Even in my state, the image of dad pounding Ben became suddenly crystal clear in my mind. “We should go,” I said through gritted teeth. 

Dad sulked, following me outside and calling a ride. He stared at me, averting his gaze every time I looked back toward him. Sheepishly, shifting from foot to foot as we waited on the sidewalk, he said, “Sorry, son. I know I shouldn’t have asked. He’s your friend and—” 

I kissed him. I pressed my body against dad’s and locked lips. He stood still as stone, letting my fingers graze over his burly chest. My boldness started to fade, and I pulled back. 

But dad’s hands locked onto my arms and held me close. He leaned forward and let his lips part, sliding his tongue into my mouth with all its flavors of liquor, beer, and manliness. He smothered me in a firm embrace and I felt his hardness jab against mine through our jeans. 

A car pulled up, and we parted, panting with passion as we stumbling into the back seat. The driver was silent, turning up the music to drown out the sounds of our smacking lips as dad lay atop me. He pumped his hips against me, letting me feel the enormity of his erection. 

“I want to watch,” I whispered as dad kissed my neck.

“Watch?”

“When you fuck Ben. I want to watch.”

Dad smirked, running his fingers under my shirt, and declared, “One condition.” He pushed his hand down my jeans and squeezed my dick, a match for his own, and growled, “You have to fuck him after I’m done. Take my sloppy seconds. No son of mine should be wasting this birthright as a bottom.” 

I nodded mutely, gasping as dad rubbed his thumb over my head, mopping up globs of precum. I pushed my hands under his shirt and ran my fingers through his thick chest hair, feeling the curves of his bulky body and imagining myself growing into a man like him. 

Dad was right, after all. I didn’t even like bottoming that much, but I’d been too insecure to do anything else. But he believed in me, and I imagined Ben’s ass swallowing up my big dick, slick with dad’s spent load, and I knew I could do it.

[fishermanxstories]

Seriously, @graybeards has churned out some rock-solid stroke material.

[graybeards]

A Hypnotic Attraction

I kiss him. Not just any kiss. My hand grasps his neck, tilted back to gaze up at me. My fingers tease under his belt, full buttocks berthed in my lap. My arms squeeze his petite frame, crushed against my burly chest. No, not just any kiss. I engulf his lips in a kiss worthy of fairy tales, and the crowd chortles and jeers.

My tongue is pummeling Eric’s mouth into submission when a man puts his hand on me and says into a microphone, “You’re both frozen in place.” The room fills with applause as my muscles tighten in place, stilled tongue dripping saliva down my friend’s throat. Unseen in my jeans, prodding against Eric in my lap, my manhood stands at unfailing attention.

It had started small—sit a little closer, put your arm around him, whisper in his ear. The audience enjoyed the buildup, the decline of inhibition in two men with clashing wedding rings and families at home. 

Part of me knows it’s all an act, a joke, but it feels so real. When the hypnotist gives me an instruction, it feels like a compulsion, an aching desire I never even think of ignoring.

He wanders the stage, making a man walk on all fours like a dog while his wife walked him with an invisible leash. A group of friends obliviously shred on air guitars. All the while, a younger man quacks like a duck between four apparently sleeping people. 

When he returns to stand beside us, he lets the audience goad him on. He acts reluctant, but he’s grinning when he instructs, “You’ve just gotten married. Carry your blushing bride around.”

I scoop my hands under Eric and rise up from my chair, lifting him into my arms with a goofy, gleeful grin as I strut about the stage. A few members of the audience catch glimpses of the erection straining down my thigh, but there are more awestruck whispers than giggles about that part. Eric marvels up at his handsome new husband in a blissful daze, running his soft fingers down my square jaw.

“You’ve all been a great audience,” the hypnotist announces as he begins snapping people out of their trances. “We had a great time. Didn’t we?” He comes up to us as the last of the audience is rising to their feet in applause. He snaps his fingers and I wake up. 

I look down at Eric, and around at the others, pretending to have little memory of what just happened. They are embarrassed to have acted silly, but as I lean down to place my buddy on his feet, I find that I don’t. He blushes a deep crimson when he looks at me. With my back to the crowd, I rearrange my package and hopelessly will it to soften.

“That was wild, huh?” Eric says after we silently make our way to the car.

“So you remember it?” I ask.

Eric stares down at his feet in the passenger seat as I look back over my shoulder and reverse out of the parking spot. “Yeah.”

We sit in a silence for a moment, but I can’t help myself. With a laugh for plausible deniability, I say, “I can’t believe how soft your lips are.”

My buddy chuckles and explains, “Lip balm, man. Ever hear of it?”

“You keep that with the tampons in your purse?” I tease, feeling a little bad when he goes quiet. “But it was nice.”

“It was?” He asks incredulously.

I glance at his quivering blue eyes and challenge, “You don’t think so?”

“It was nice,” he agrees. “It was some kiss.”

“Yup.” I grin.

“Was that really all you, down there?” Eric asks, nodding to the now-soft bulge in my pants. “I mean, it was…”

“Yup.”

“Damn,” he gasps, gaping. The attention starts to stiffen me. “Sarah’s a lucky woman.”

“That’s what I keep tellin’ her,” I say with a frustrated chuckle. “But we don’t really… well, there’s a reason I’m so excitable these days.”

“You mean it wasn’t just this hot, married man ass?” Eric means it sarcastically, but my bulge swells perceptibly.

“It actually felt nice,” I admit.

The car goes silent, just the humming of the engine and the whirring of the wheels. After a few minutes, Eric asks, “How far would you have gone in there?”

“To be honest?” I confirm. “All the way to the wedding night.”

He adopts the deep tone of the hypnotist and parodies, “You carry your bride up to her nuptial bed and perform your husbandly duty.”

I force a laugh, but my manhood works it way back down my thigh. I adopt the same voice when I mock, “You kneel down and perform your wifely duties.”

Eric licks his lips and stares at my straining cock as I pull up in front of his house. He says, “You want to come in for just a beer? Emily and the girls are still up at her dad’s.”

“Just a beer, huh? Wow,” I grin, “my hypnotic suggestion really worked that easily?”

“You’re a natural,” Eric agrees, blushing.

“Kiss me,” I command, and he practically jumps over the center console to comply. I shove my tongue back between his soft lips and he moans as he runs his fingers down my shaft.

“All the way to the wedding night?” He whispers when our mouths part.

“I knocked Sarah up on ours,” I brag. “After four hours on my dick, I finally let her get some sleep.”

“Good thing I’m not tired,” Eric grins. “Because it sounds like your second wife has a record to break.”

“A beer does sound good.” With my hypnotist voice, I say, “You go inside, strip naked, and wait on your knees.” As he obeys, I pull out my phone and text Sarah that I’m sticking around to watch a game. I watch Eric’s ass bounce in his jeans as he walks away, and I add that if I gets too late I’ll just crash at Eric’s. After all, I don’t want to rush it when I deflower my blushing bride.

[fishermanxstories]

Fuckin' HOT story from @graybeards.

[dariopenn]

[graybeards]

He was truly breathtaking, with a form that if turned to stone would have fit perfectly alongside the marble gods in my gardens. I’ve always had a taste for the classical, the clean and simple perfection of that era. 

Edward was a favorite, among my recent acquisitions. He wanted my business, to underwrite a public offering for my company, and I wanted him. I grinned behind the rim of a glass of white wine as the Wall Street warrior shed his armor, draping a vivid blue jacket over a chair and loosening his expensive silk tie. My hardness stretched down the leg of my loungewear as we stood across from each other in the entryway of my vast home on the Upper East Side. 

The man was in his mid-50s, but his bronzed chest rippled with muscle as he peeled off his rigid white shirt. Always the alpha male, even under my lascivious eye he didn’t betray a hint of nervousness. I had always envied that, back before my success. A man like Edward would have had me trembling, but now I could look down at the still pool of wine in my glass and grin.

“Turn around,” I commanded before he unbuckled his belt. As he complied, I pushed the waistband of my pajamas down and let the immense slab of cock rest atop my bulbous balls. I squeezed my manhood, the one good thing my father ever gave me.

Edward pushed his trousers and underwear off in one motion and I sucked in a stunned breath at the revelation of his round ass. “Magnificent,” I muttered as the million things or more I wanted to do to it rushed through my head. I rushed forward and squeezed his flesh in my hand, firm but supple against my fingers.

He looked back over his shoulder and his eyes went wide when they came upon my cock. He gasped, “Excuse my language, but holy shit.”

I grinned up at him and reached up to run my fingers through his short gray hair, pulling his lips down to mine. I whispered, “Just relax.” He was hesitant at first, but a fine actor. He closed his eyes and kissed me back. I massaged his tongue with mine and pressed my soft lips to him. His eyelids fluttered open and he looked surprised. It’s never as different as they expect it to be. They think it will be rough and coarse, but I am smooth and warm against them.

His hands find places on my slender chest as he turns to draw closer together. I pull back for a sip of wine before pressing my sweetened lips to his. I let it go on a while, far longer than my straining cock would have preferred. His shoulder is loose and relaxed when I put a hand on it and slowly, gently push the adonis to his knees on the stone floor.

Edward looked surprised, but I just smiled warmly and said, “Take your time, just close your eyes and imagine you’re stroking yourself.” My butler pressed a fresh glass into my hand as I watched the banker do as I instructed. His rough, thick fingers squeezed my shaft tight and I let out a sigh. “That’s it. Just like that.”

I sipped from my glass and watched the man get more comfortable, putting both hands on my shaft and working it into a stiff pillar. I ran my fingers through his hair and cooed with pleasure. I whispered, “Now just kiss it, Edward.”

He looked almost eager, leaning forward to press his lips to my head. It drizzled precum onto him and he let it seep into his mouth without protest. “Oh, yes, Edward,” I moaned, “you’re good at that.” He was a man who prided himself on excellence, even in this. His lips parted and let me inside that warm crevice where his tongue rubbed along the underbelly of my fat shaft.

My fingers clenched in his hair and made him feel my rising desire. I pumped my hips, sliding between his lips until he gagged. “Such a talented tongue,” I muttered. He looked up at me and I couldn’t help myself at the way his pale blue orbs were cool and calm even in the midst of my frenzied lust. I howled and pumped his mouth full with long ropes of seed.

He surprised me. His Adam’s apple shifted as he gulped down mouthfuls of my cum. He pumped a hand over his impressive, and now rigid, member. My legs were shaking with pleasure, but he planted a firm hand on the small of my back and held me upright. When my orgasm ran its course, he slowly slurped his lips over my cock and off. Cum trailed down his chin and he said, “Surprisingly sweet. But I think it’s my turn.”

I smirked. “It’s been a long time since I’ve–”

“But you will,” he betted as he rose to his feet and towered over me. He took the wine glass from my hand and downed it. I gasped when he grabbed me. He growled, “You want to be taken by daddy. Don’t you?”

I stared down at his hand around my wrist as he dragged me over to a long velvet couch and bent me over its arm.

“Tell me you don’t,” he challenged as he pressed his swollen head to my tight hole. He spat down and slicked me with saliva as I let out heavy breaths. “I thought so.”

I let out a cry into the cushion when Edward breached me. His cock burrowed into me until his exquisite body was pressing down on mine. He held a fistful of my ass in one hand and gripped my shoulder in the other. He growled, “You just needed to be put in his place, didn’t you? Arrogant boy.” I felt his hot breath on my ear. “Tell me what you want, boy.”

“Fuck me, daddy!” I howled, my voice rising as he thrusted against me. My favorite pieces always were a little surprising, a little challenging. Like great art, Edward dared to ask more of me.

[dematiss]

[graybeards]

I steady my trembling as I sit across from him. It’s been two grueling fucking years in the making, but the deal is finally in his hands and it will all be worth it. The tailored suits spread over several credit cards, the never-ending weekends spent wheedling at country clubs, the hobnobbing at charity dinners for impoverished families who ate better than I did—all my sacrifices were about to be vindicated.

Until Mr. Foley looked at me gravely and said, “I can’t sign this.”

“Sir?” I prompted, unable to stop myself from babbling, “The lawyers took a fine-tooth comb to it. The deal is solid. I gave you everything you asked”

“You did,” he agreed. “You’ve been wonderfully accommodating, Tim, and there’s nothing wrong with the deal.”

“Then why, sir?”

“You’re sweating,” Mr. Foley observed as he put down the papers. “And trembling. Are you angry, son? Or nervous?”

“Of course I’m—” I stifled my voice as it raised toward a yell, and calmly added, “I’m just a little surprised, sir.”

“Your shirt. Remove it.” I stared at him dumbfounded. “Indulge me,” he demanded. I jumped to it, hastily unbuttoning my shirt and peeling it off.

He nodded his approval and leaned back in his chair, resting a hand on his crotch. “Your trousers next.”

“Sir, I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“You don’t want me to leave this room unhappy. Do you, son?”

I slowly stood and undid my belt. When my pants fell down around my ankles, I stepped out of them and stood bared before the man in just bright blue briefs and a pair of black socks.

Mr. Foley smiled. “You’re a fine young man, Tim. It’s rare these days to meet a man who knows how to show the proper respect. Frankly, I never would have even considered your proposal if you weren’t so damn endearing. Go ahead and remove the rest.”

I realized I’d dug a hole too deep already, but it just made it easier to sink down. My dick flopped out when I peeled my briefs down my legs and stepped on my socks to pull them off until I was naked before him.

“You’d do just about anything to make this happen?”

I nodded reluctantly, “Just about, sir.”

Mr. Foley stood from his chair and unzipped his fly as he said, “You’re no small fry yourself, but feel free to say ‘wow’, son.”

My eyes went wide and I whispered, “Holy shit,” despite myself. Eight inches of floppy cock meat gushed from the man’s loosed fly. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“Not even a little, son. See, you’re about to join the 1% of the 1% today, and that sort of wealth is liable to change a man. It might make him forget where he came from, and forget who raised him to such dizzying heights. Now, see, I don’t like that. I like my generosity to be remembered. When I build a library, it has my name on it. When we acquire a company, it’s my picture in the papers when the story breaks. And when I elevate a man, I like to make sure he never forgets it.”

I watched his manhood grow and harden into a trunk of pulsing flesh as he spoke, and I muttered, “But you’re too big, sir.”

“The better to make sure you never forget,” Mr. Foley growled as he ran his fingers over the length of his enormous shaft. “If you want that signature, get up on the desk, son.”

I paused only long enough to maintain the illusion that I was uncertain. Hopping up on the man’s massive wooden desk, I went down onto my back and lifted my legs up against my chest to bare myself to him.

“Good boy,” he said. “I guess it’s not your first rodeo, but I’ll bet I’m your first bull.” He licked a finger and shoved it inside me. With a gasp, I wriggled as he poked and prodded my insides before adding another. “Even your ass is accommodating,” Mr. Foley chuckled. “Or maybe you want this. Is that it, son?”

“I’ve always kept my business life and my personal life separate, but—”

He made me gasp with the another pudgy finger in my ass, wedding ring rubbing against my sphincter, and teased, “But you want daddy’s big dick.”

“Fuck, sir,” I moaned. “You’re really good at that.”

Mr. Foley grinned. “If you like that, you’re about to get a treat, son.” He spat in his hand and lathered his shaft as he opened me wide. “You can howl, if you like, but just know that I don’t stop til I nut.”

I felt suddenly empty as his fingers vacated. He separated my cheeks and pressed that enormous head in to fill the gap. “Oh fuck, that feels like too much. Can you just—” He cut off my request with a push, popping his mushroom inside me until I whimpered and squirmed against him.

“There it is,” Mr. Foley growled, “there’s the fear.” He moved forward, putting my ankles on his shoulders, and pinned my wrists down on the desk. His leaking head burrowed its way deeper, splitting me in two. “It feels like too much to take,” he predicted. “Like you couldn’t possibly survive another inch.” He grunted and pushed his hips forward. “But then you do, because you know I won’t settle for less.”

My struggles atrophied as he pummeled my insides into submission, and he released my wrists to run his coarse fingers all over my smooth body. I watched helpless as Mr. Foley filled me to the brim. When I finally felt his trousers pressed to my skin, I let out a sigh. It was a brief moment of respite, reaching the top of the mountain, until he started to pump his hips.

The pain was less and the pleasure more, and they merged indistinguishably as my moans and his grunts formed a sensual chorus. But he was primed, and I was tight around him. It wasn’t long before he was drawing close.

Eyes shut, body churning against me with the force of a rising tide, Mr. Foley slammed my insides as he prepared to flood me with his copious seed. All I could do was paw at his crisp white shirt, feeling the dampness of sweat on his firm chest through it. He let out a growl and sealed our deal, writing his signature deep inside me and leaving a mark I could never forget.

“We’ll have to do business again soon, son,” Mr. Foley said as he composed himself and adjusted his clothes. “Congratulations on the big day.” He brought the papers over and signed them across my smooth chest before making his way out with a grin and a swagger. And just like that, trembling with the echoes of an overwhelming experience, I was a wealthy man. It was all far more than worth it.

[fishermanxstories]

More @graybeards hotness!

[graybeards]

A Better Boyfriend than a Boss

“It’s nice now that it’s cold out,” I said softly, staring sideways at the dark-haired banker in the dim light of the sauna. “I can’t stand the way the wind whips down the streets.”

“You get used to it,” Mike assured me. He kept his eyes closed, relaxing with hands folded behind his head and legs spread wide. Still that damnable towel around my boss’ waist blocked my most desired view, though the forest of black hair coating his chest and belly was still mouthwatering. He added, “If you stay long, that is.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Come on, man,” he said, looking at me with bold blue eyes, “you aren’t living in a penthouse overlooking Central Park, with a damn sauna in your master suite, on your low six figures. No offense, but I don’t expect much at the office out of the trust fund brigade.”

“I’m not like them. I work hard, and I didn’t invite you over to insult me.”

“No, you invited me over to fuck you,” Mike laughed.

“That’s not–”

“Oh, come on,” he said as he rose to his feet and stood over me with his thumbs hooked into his towel, threatening to throw it off. “You’re cute, but not exactly subtle.” He ran his fingers up over his furry torso, drawing my gaze along with it until I was staring up into his eyes again. “Everyone at the office knows you’ve got a crush on me.”

“They do?” I felt my cheeks burning as I stammered. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just thought you were. I didn’t realize anyone even noticed.”

“You’re all flustered,” Mike observed, lifting his leg to plant a foot beside me on the bench and stand closer over me. The dangling bulge in his towel hung inches from my face as I gazed up across the vast furry expanse of his chest. “I like that. It’s true that you’re not quite like them, not so arrogant.”

I leaned back against the wall, but Mike just shifted closer until I was nearly pinned. I finally realized, “You accepted my invite.”

Mike grinned. “I did, but I’m not going to fuck you yet.”

“Yet?”

He reached down and cupped my chin in his palm as he said, “Third date. You know, dinner and a show or a walk in the park. Getting to know each other, holding hands under the setting sun, chaste little kisses at the end of the night—you know the drill.”

“You’re serious?” I asked as his fingers stroked my cheek.

“You’re a little ridiculous,” Mike laughed, gesturing all around us, “but I actually like you. If I fuck you, then, well… that would be that. What do you think?”

“I guess I could do that. Sorry, I’m just surprised.”

He released my chin and slapped his gut, announcing, “I’m starving. How about we get dressed and take care of date number one tonight?”

My shock started to fade and I smiled up at him, “Sounds good.”

“But,” Mike smirked, “how do you feel about a quick appetizer?” He pulled his towel off and threw it aside, unveiling his meaty cock swinging halfway to his knees.

“Looks like a meal,” I whispered as I looked up at him with a radiant smile.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to ruin your appetite, so—” he joked, but I wrapped my lips around his floppy manhood and gently sucked, “—oh fuck. Seems like like there’s no danger of that.”

Mike quickly swelled in my mouth as I lapped and licked at him, burying my nose in the warmth of his body. I moaned when I felt his gentle fingers running through my hair and encouraging me to engulf his cock. With one hand, I kneaded at his foot beside me, and with the other I squeezed his enormous nuts as they pressed to my chin.

“You want me to cum?” He asked, a rough edge in his voice. With a strained groan, the question became an order, “Swallow daddy’s load, boy. That’s it, use that tongue. Oh shit, here it comes.”

He clenched my head and I squeezed my lips around his shaft. A river of hot cum flooded onto my tongue and I let it all swirl around in my mouth until I was brimming with it. Over me, Mike alternated grunts and deep breaths as he gently rocked his hips.

I savored the moment. I let his seed overwhelm my tastebuds and his softening member rest between my lips. He planted his hands on the wall above me for balance. I wanted to remember how it felt the first time with him, because even then I knew Mike was something special. He was a great boss, but he would make an even better boyfriend.

[fishermanxstories]

Fuuuuuuuuck, @graybeards drops another hot, HOT stroke story. Get a grip and rub one out, fellas!

[ring2ring]

[maturedadsandmen]

Our CEO, Jeff Fitzwater, was featured in an article in one of the industry’s leading trade magazines.  He was rightfully proud of it.  It was a great article, full of pictures of Jeff.  Those pictures are what I liked best about the article.  I had it bad for the guy…and he knew it.  Anytime he needed me to do something, he’d flash me that winning smile of his, or he’d come into my office and lean down to look over my shoulder at the computer screen or at a document on my desk, letting me get a whiff of his manly scent.

My favorite picture out of all of the pictures in the article was this great pic of him sitting at his desk, glasses on the surface in front of him, perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect suit…his hands clasped in front of him, showing off his wedding ring, silently telling all who saw the article that he’s an upstanding family man.  That picture was my favorite, but not for the obvious reason.

Few know this, but as Jeff Fitzwater was posing for that very photo, I was under his desk, having fished his cock out of his slacks and boxes, licking and sucking on it like a popsicle.  It was a happy accident - and you can’t tell it by looking at the photo itself - but as the photographer took it, I was taking something too…namely Fitz’s creamy load down my throat.

After the article was published, the two of us had a good laugh about it after hours as we dressed in his office after a round of particularly intense fucking.  “Look at it this way, Craig,” he said to me, flashing that same winning smile that always made my knees buckle.  “If this thing between us ever goes South, you’ll always have a memento of our time together…the moment you took my load down your throat, forever frozen in time.

“This isn’t the start of a kiss-off speech, is it, Fitzy?” I asked back, starting to feel a lump in my throat.

“No way, man,” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me to him, wrapping his arm around my waist.  “This is” quick kiss “definitely a” quick kiss “kiss” quick kiss “on” quick kiss “speech.”  longer, passionate kiss…

When I felt the familiar stirring against my thigh, I parted and looked down, seeing his boxer briefs bulging out obscenely past his not-yet-buttoned and zipped slacks.  “Maybe we’d better put this ‘getting dressed thing’ into reverse.  It seems like someone’s ready to play again.”  And reached down to massage his bulge for good measure.

He laughed, “Nah.  I gotta get home to Stacy and the kids.  I’ll get her to take care of me later tonight.”

I tilted my head and gave him a look of disapproval.  “Really?  You’d rather get a sloppy, half-assed blow job from your wife than someone who you’ve affectionately nicknamed ‘Hoover’?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” he pulled his phone out of his pants pocket.  “Go ahead and get started while I make the call.”  As I pulled his slacks and underwear down in one fell swoop, letting his already-hard-again cock spring out, nearly hitting me in the face, he was bringing the phone up to his ear.  As I took the fat head into my mouth and began to swirl around it with my tongue, I heard him talking to his wife, trying to sound normal, “Hey, Hon.  It’s me.  I hate to do this to you.  I know we were going to celebrate the article getting published tonight, but I gotta stay here for another couple hours…”

Looks like not only was I gonna get a load down my throat, but it sounded like Jeff Fitzwater intended to fuck another load into my ass too.  Fine by me!

[newtumbl-2019]

Let’s get the word out! newTumbl is really taking off and the more community members we have, the better we become! Thanks for all your support and feedback.

[fishermanxstories]

I'm slowly migrating towards https://fishermanxstories.newtumbl.com as well. I'm looking for some more functionality: saved posts and a queue process are my current wishlist. Until then, I'll be posting pics of great dicks and big asses. Come find me!

[ienchanted]

[fishermanxstories]

Fuuuuuuuck, son.

[snarksandkisses]

[harrison1841]

YES!

[fishermanxstories]

Fuck yeah!

[untitled53246]

[fishermanxstories]

Damn, son...

[lovemales94]

[fishermanxstories]

God damn.

[oopsabird]

god, GOD Freddie Mercury was such a fucking badass

[scumbagsblog]

This doesn’t do the moment justice. He took the swig of vodka, said “I’ll fucking do it darling”, and then ABSOLUTELY NAILED IT in one fucking take

[child-of-dolora]

Mood for 2019: “I’ll fucking do it, darling.”

[fishermanxstories]

Freddie Mercury was a fabulous queer beast, and none of you kids ought to forget it!

[team-bonding]

The steam room is the ultimate game: intuition, sex, and risk. We’d been playing for awhile, but I still wasn’t sure. My gym mate seemed too manly, confident instead of affected, and his beard read as nothing but straight. He parted his legs and his towel followed suit, exposing the upper portion of his thighs. He knew the the score.