I was house sitting for my aunt in Townsville on summer when I was in my mid teens. It was hotter than fuck and about 150% humidity. As she scuttled out the door for her girls cruise she shouted out that the BMD bloke would be by to take some readings later in the day. Just like that, I was alone with a house (and pool) to myself for the next fortnight.
Sleeping in nothing but a pair of bonds briefs I groggily rubbed my stiff cock as I stripped back the sheet, lazily climbed outta bed and made my way down the hall. After pissing half way up the wall thanks to my morning wood I headed to the kitchen to grab a coffee and throw on some telly.
As the old box telly buzzed to life I sat down on the sofa with my coffee and clicked through the channels, eventually settling on some weekend amateur rugby league. The Townsville pirates were triumphing over some big city team but my attention was drawn to one of the local players on the screen; number 12 - the inside centre; 6 foot 2, built like an ox with hairy legs and forearms and the tightest little white rugby shorts you’ve ever seen that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Every scrum close up you could see his muddy bulge straining against the fabric. This was way before the days of rewinding live television so I was trying to take everything in as it played out in front of me, capturing mental images of this beast of a man wrestling with other sweaty blokes, picturing him pushing my face down into the ground while he pummelled me.
My bonds briefs strained under my excitement and pre cum was pooling at the front. I fished my cock out the side and starting tugging myself with my right hand while my left trailed down under my balls to tickle my tight pink hole; eyes fixed on the screen. The match cut to an advert and as the screen dropped to almost black I caught a reflection from the tv of the window behind me and the silhouette of a man standing outside just a foot behind me.
Startled, I jumped up, tucking my rock hard cock back into my briefs and falling flat on my face on the carpet. Scurrying on my hands and knees out of sight into the kitchen I chanced a look back to the window and noticed the figure had disappeared. I ran to my bedroom, kicking off my soggy briefs and throwing on a pair of trusty footy shorts and a singlet before making my way outside to confront the stranger.
The bloke was standing at the foot of the driveway by the road, smoking a cigarette with a a knowing grin on his face; his hands covered in dirt and a BMD logo on his chest. “Gday mate” he said as I approached, “had a call out to check ya meters”. “No worries” I replied, my face burning from embarrassment, “come on up when you’re ready”. With that he flicked his cig into the road and followed me up the drive way.
“Name’s Dave” he said, extending a big dirt covered hand. “Matt” I replied sheepishly as he shook my hand. As we stepped up onto the front patio I could see the back of the sofa and rugby still playing on the tv where Dave had caught me moments earlier. He paused and peered through the window. “My nephews playing today, just wanna check the score” he said, a smug grin on his face. “Ripper! They’re 8 up” he said, making his way to the door I was holding open for him. As he came closer I expected him to hold the door and wait for me to proceed inside but instead he turned side on and brushed past me, his slight belly and the gloves clipped to his belt brushing against me as he entered the house and his left hand ever so gently making contact with my rapidly thickening cock.
I followed him inside, trying to tuck my now solid dick up into the waistband of my rugby shorts. “Let’s start in the kitchen” Dave says. I walk past him and he follows closely behind. As we make our way down the hall and into the kitchen I stop and Dave walks into the back of me, his crotch making contact with my ass and his filthy hands grabbing onto my waist to stop me tumbling forward. “Sorry pal” he says as he releases me from his grip, leaving big dark handprints on my white singlet. “No worries” I reply, aware that his beer-can thick bulge has snaked somewhat down his right trouser leg, still sporting that smug grin.
Dave walks across the kitchen and busies himself looking through cabinets for a meter to read. Finding the meter in a cabinet under the sink he lays on his back, his knees bent and his filthy boots planted wide apart on the tiled floor. From this angle I notice immediately he’s going commando, his heavy package on display as the fabric is pulled taught against his crotch and ass. Muttering under his breath as he tinkers with gauges he reaches down into his side pockets and grabs a small torch. I watch as he tries to position the torch on his chest but it keeps falling off to the side as he cusses. “Buddy come give us a hand for a sec” Dave says, his head and shoulders still inside the cabinet. I walk across and squat down next to him.
I scoot close to him and take in his scent; a mixture of sweat and man. “Shine the light back back here buddy” he says, his thick arms up by his head, bulging through the orange hi vis uniform. I hold the torch and shine it in his general direction. “A bit to the left” he advises, “now a touch to the right” - I can hear the frustration in his voice. “Fuck it!” He grunts, sliding his body down the floor, his head and shoulders now visibility again. “This isn’t working buddy, I’m gonna need you to hold it steady. Just lay down next to me and point where my hands are”. With that he shimmied his way back into the cabinet and I laid down next to him on my back but still unable to manoeuvre the torch properly into the right cabinet space.
Sensing his growing frustration by the rapidly jerking arm movements and cusses, I decide to try and be as helpful as possible. “Let me try a different way” I warn him before I sit up. His arms still jerking rapidly, I stand up, look down at the seemingly headless slab of man below and position my feet on either side of him and then lower myself so I’m sitting on his stomach. As I arch my back to position the torch at optimal height my nylon shorts cause me to slide slightly down his front coming to a rest on his crotch. I feel his body tense and pause momentarily but he carries on unfettered, his rapid movements causing me to bounce slightly like a bull rider in a rodeo.
Aware that my torch light must be bouncing around as much as I was I lean forward and position my elbows on either side of Dave, now completely straddling his hefty body. His rhythmic full body jerking movements continue and his planted feet buck more rigidly, causing my ass to lift entirely off and slap back down, again and again. I chance a look under the cabinet and see Dave’s eyes are closed, his lips parted in a goofy grin as his arms continue to tinker blindly. I think the fucker’s enjoying himself.
“How’s the light?” I ask, still grinding my little ass into his crotch. “Mm. yeah. good” he pants, his voice ragged. Sensing my opportunity to have some real fun, I hold the torch in place with my left hand and discreetly bring my right hand to my mouth, coating a finger in spit and then reach back and insert it into my bouncing boy hole.
Stealing a glimpse behind me I can see Dave’s cock is rock hard, snaking obtrusively down his right trouser leg; a small pool of Pre cum visible in his work pants and the thick flared ridge of his cockhead on full display - clearly not a fan of constrictive underwear. His rigid pole was all the green light I needed. I dropped the torch where it was, sat upright and reached down , grabbing a handful of his heavy bulge. He grunted something inaudible but I couldn’t care less at this point. Raising myself off him slightly I swiftly pulled down the zipper as my greedy hand dove inside, manoeuvring his rigid cock until it was sticking straight out: an obscene thickness that filled the entire opening of his fly.
I kicked my footy shorts off and spat into my fingers, coating them as liberally as I could before rubbing the spit onto my hole. Before Dave even knew what was coming and with his head still in the cabinet, I squatted down onto his unyieldingly firm and unbearably thick cock. “Fuuuuuuck” Dave grunted as I bottomed out on the first squat, my hole burning with pain. Like a stag in rut, Dave’s desires took over and his arms shot out to grab my waist as he mercilessly began to bludgeon my guts with his bat, the force of his thrusts lifting me entirely off his bull cock while his calloused hands expertly guided me back down onto his girth.
Without pulling out, Dave slid his body out of the cabinet, his hands roughly gripping my waist as he got to his feet, his seemingly impossible thickness pulsating inside me; that smug grin now a tad more sinister. He took a few steps forward, each one causing his cock to flex inside me; my back slamming against the kitchen wall - trapped between a rock hard cock and a hard place. With this new support Dave was able to pick up momentum and began deep thrusting into me at speed like a man possessed. His eyes were wide and wild, his face twisted into a scowl as his beer can thick meat abused my prostate again and again, each thrust more aggressive than the last as his entire weight was seemingly rammed into my boy hole.
Suddenly he withdrew his cock and spun me around taking a few steps and throwing me backwards onto the kitchen counter top. Grabbing at my ankles he positioned my feet on either side of his chest. His face was red and dripping with sweat. His brow tensed; mad with desire. He swiftly unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants button causing them to fall to the floor in a heavy pile. His hairy low-hanging sack was matted with sweat, two prominent pool balls nestled inside. Using my ankles he rocked me backwards and hocked a big spit ball directly onto my asshole. Using one of his meaty, greasy fingers he roughly spread it over my hole and pushed it inside.
With my hole now completely open before him, Dave smiled wickedly down at me, moved his hips so his hefty cockhead lined up with my hole and drove it in. With his cock free from his trousers it felt like he’d gained a few inches and the pain was intense. I began to cry out but a greasy hand covered my mouth. “Not a fucking sound!” He commanded; viciously bucking his meat inside me, his heavy balls slapping against my ass and the counter top. His body was drenched in sweat and my feet slid from his chest out to the sides, allowing him to get deeper inside me and press his body against my own. My white singlet smeared in grease and sweat clung to my body, my cock, rock hard and wedged against his furry torso, on the verge of erupting.
Dave began to fuck me more frantically, wildly driving his pole inside me, grunting and shaking his head like a madman, sweat flying off him in all directions. This reckless abandon was too much for my teen cock and I cried out as it blasted hot creamy ropes of cum onto my slick body. Dave’s meaty paws swiftly covered my mouth, his eyes wide and dangerous. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUUUUUCK!” He roared as his collossal cock hit new depths and unleashed a mighty torrent of man batter into my bowels. His hands on my mouth gripped tighter and tighter as he emptied his sack into me and his eyes were locked onto mine, full of ecstasy and fury. Letting me go from his tight grip, he roughly dragged his cock out of my hole and shook off the remaining cum, turning and pulling his pants back up. He was silent as he turned and washed his hands and face in the sink as I lay in place with fun slowly pooling on the counter below my used hole.
I heard the front door open and close and heard Dave dissapear down the gravel driveway without so much as a goodbye. I slid off the counter and walked towards the bathroom. In the living room the rugby on tv had ended and the local boys were giving their victory speech. The camera panned around to my earlier wank bait number 12 who grinned into the camera and proclaimed “this ones for uncle Dave who had to work today!”.
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