Christ, he was hot—the young runner in the park. The lithe body. The chiseled legs. The seductive look that he would cast my way, stirring my desire to be inside him. Wicked thoughts of him overtook my mind in bed, my naive wife sleeping by my side. I wanted to dominate him. To consume him. To make him mine.
The city park was a short walk from our house. We had started taking our young daughter there every Saturday morning once she was old enough to climb the stairs to the slide and swing on the swing set. That’s when I first saw him.
I was on one of the benches facing the playground, my wife helping my daughter to master a low set of monkey bars. He was running laps on the track that circled the entire park, sweat darkening the back of his shirt and the cleft between his pecs. His short, green running shorts hugged his sculpted ass, as if they were painted on him.
He stopped just shy of my bench, stretching his legs at one of those calisthenics stations that nobody uses. With one leg propped up, hands reaching for his toes, his junk barely contained in those shorts, he looked at me. No, he didn’t just look at me—he looked at me.
I knew that look. I first discovered it during my freshman year of college. I had spent three hours at a bar, fake ID in hand, downing beer after beer, trying to get laid, watching bitch after bitch leave with some other guy.
Walking back to my dorm after midnight, my balls aching, precum soaking my boxer briefs thanks to my permanent semi-chubby, I encountered a swishy-looking guy at a crosswalk near campus. He gave me the look.
Five minutes later, my big cock was buried in his tight ass in the dark alley behind a dry cleaners. With his hands braced against a brick wall, I fucked him from behind, shooting my load up his ass in under two minutes. And that’s all he wanted. Just my cock. Just my load.
Christ, was it really that easy? It was.
Gay dudes seemed to come out of the woodwork for me at that point. Had I not noticed them before? I developed a penchant for twinks, skinny and almost feminine enough for me to dupe myself into thinking I was fucking some slutty bitch.
And those twinks loved me. My big cock was certainly a plus. But with my beefy build and hairy body, I looked to be 25 or 30 when I was only 18. One guy even called me daddy while I seeded him, though we were the same age. My look worked for me, allowing me to score some twink ass just as easily as ordering a pizza.
But I gave up those twinks and their easy holes when I met my wife after college. She loved my big cock at first. Couldn’t get enough of it—until she gave birth. Jesus, they should really warn guys before marriage that it all ends at some point. That you just end up jacking yourself to phone porn in the bathroom, the volume turned low, while your wife snores in bed.
Despite my depraved past, it hadn’t occurred to me that a married man always has other options. It’s a vice as old as time. And yet the thought of finding another available hole for my cock escaped me—until I saw the hot runner in the park. And that look—that beautiful, fucking look—told me he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I had to have him. But how?
I couldn’t approach the runner. It was impossible. What—with my wife sitting by my side or, at most, 30 feet away on the playground with my daughter? And how could I possibly justify chatting up a 20-year-old kid who, to the casual observer, had nothing in common with me?
So I had to be patient, watching his hot body run around and around that fucking park. His eyes would lock on mine each time he passed, his chiseled ass begging to be defiled, my balls aching to seed him.
Our covert glances went on every Saturday for weeks. It became an obsession. Yet my wife was always there, always cock blocking me, always coming to sit by me on the bench just when there was maybe a chance to talk to the guy. But good things come to those who wait. The stars aligned.
“You’re a lucky man,” the runner finally spoke one Saturday, nodding towards my wife and daughter over at the red twisty slide as he crouched by my bench, pretending to tie his shoes. “You’ve got a beautiful family.”
“You can have them,” I laughed in jest—a silly, overused dad joke.
“Nah,” he smiled as he stood up, his eyes locking on my ample crotch. “But I do see something else that I’d like to have.”
As if on cue, my daughter came running to me, a dandelion in her hand, its wispy spores scattering in the wind like my hopes of fucking the runner. Damn it to hell. Spooked, he sprinted back onto the running trail, tossing a furtive glance back at me. My situation seemed hopeless. I was wrong.
Within a few minutes, the runner had looped back to me. By that time, my wife and daughter were on the swings. Crouching down to adjust his laces again, he spoke to me once more.
“Meet me in the last stall of the men’s room over at the recreation center,” he whispered, gesturing to the utilitarian building on the other side of the park. “I’ll be prepped and ready for you.”
Christ, my cock stirred. I nodded my acceptance to his offer almost imperceptibly, my eyes locked on his, a devious smile spreading across his face. He sprinted away once more, heading toward our rendezvous. Game on.
“I’m going to hit the men’s room,” I approached my wife and daughter at the swings.
“Oh—can you take Bella with you?” my wife suggested. “I’m sure she needs to tinkle after that juice box on the way here.”
Cock blocked again. Fuck my life.
“I—uh—I better go alone,” I demurred, grasping my stomach, feigning abdominal distress. “I might be a little while in there.”
Making a quick getaway, I jogged to the men’s room, my cock swelling along with my anticipation of dumping a load in the hot runner. I prayed that the men’s room would be deserted—that there wouldn’t be some old geezer emptying his bladder for ten minutes at the urinal or, worse, some dude taking a stinky dump in the toilet stall next to ours. My prayers were answered.
Slipping into the empty men’s room, I heard the door to the last stall unlatch as the hot runner peered out at me, opening the stall door wide enough for me to join him. His green shorts were around his ankles. An open bottle of lube rested on the handicapped bar.
With his hands braced against the tile wall behind the toilet, he bent forward and presented his cunt to me. It was ready to go, the swirls of downy fur rimming his hole were wet and matted—begging for my cock.
“Just shove it in me,” he ordered as I unzipped, freeing my rock hard eight-incher, my precum dripping like a faucet. “I’m so fucking horny.”
“Fuuuck,” I exhaled, pushing into him, my hands going to his shoulders.
“Damn, you’re thick,” he marveled, tensing ever so slightly, his sphincter gripping my cock at the base as I began some deep strokes. “I don’t want us to get busted, so try to be quick, okay?”
“I’m not gonna last long in this tight hole,” I assured him, which was the truth. I had forgotten how much better ass felt compared to pussy. “Fuck, you’ve got a sweet cunt.”
“Thanks,” he exhaled, grinding against me, my pubes and balls mashed against his furry hole. “Now fuck me—hard.”
Dutifully, I complied, moving my hands to his hips as I began to pummel his boy pussy at a breakneck pace. It’s a good thing the men’s room was empty, as I was grunting hard with each thrust. I raised my t-shirt, holding it under my chin as I watched my hairy belly smacking against his chiseled ass.
“That’s it—fuck me, daddy,” he moaned his hips moving in unison with my rhythmic thrusts, my big dick routing his depths. “Your big cock feels so good inside me.”
“I’m getting close,” I warned, my balls hugging my body, the cum rising in my shaft—a geyser ready to release. “You ready for my load?”
“Yes, daddy,” he pleaded. “Breed me—seed my fucking hole.”
“FUCK,” I grunted, my cock throbbing uncontrollably as I unleashed a five-day load into his void. His sphincter gripped me, milking me dry.
“Mmm yeah,” he cooed. “Your cum is so warm inside me.”
“Shit, that was good,” I exhaled, pulling out of him quickly once my balls were emptied, my cock glistening with lube and cum. “We need to do this every Saturday.”
“I wish we could,” he sighed, ripping a length of toilet paper off the roll and wiping his used, cummy hole with it. “I just broke up with my boyfriend and have to move back in with my parents—later today, in fact. They live an hour away, so I’m not going to be running here anymore. That’s why I approached you today. I couldn’t leave without getting a chance to finally feel your cock inside me.”
“I can’t believe this,” I lamented, crestfallen, stuffing my wet cock back into my shorts. “Isn’t there somewhere closer where you could live?”
“Not really,” he shrugged. “I’m a college student, and the rent around here is too high for me to afford a place on my own.”
It felt like my world was crumbling around me. Sure, I could always find another easy piece of ass—another twink looking to get dominated by a beefy, big-dicked daddy like me. But the heart—or cock, as it may be—wants what it wants, and I wanted the runner. There had to be a solution. And then it came to me.
“Follow me,” I gestured as he pulled up his shorts over his used ass. I unlatched the stall door and led him out of the men’s room, a confused look upon his face.
We had to talk to my wife. God help me.
“Hey, babe,” I approached her at the park bench overlooking the playground, my daughter still on the swing set. “You remember how we talked about renting out the room over the garage some day?”
“Yeah—I guess,” she answered with trepidation.
“Well, I just found our new tenant,” I beamed, slapping the hot runner on the back. “He’s moving in today.”
Stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults.
From the Twisted-Talez Vault 🔓
