11.05 AM. I am watching myself in a full length mirror. Leaning forward on a mattress, naked and resting on my elbows. The room where this is happening is drab and nondescript. Sparsely furnished, there is a single, uncovered light bulb above my head emitting a dull, yellow glow.
My face is flushed, my bare, muscular arms gleam with moisture. It is a very warm day. My big, throbbing cock points forward, the head swollen and deep red in colour. From the slit, a glistening thread of pre-cum extends down to the bed where it has formed quite a pool on the towel placed underneath me. Periodically, at intervals of just under a second, I hear a wet, slapping sound. Each time this happens, a low moan escapes my lips. These moans of pleasure are indeed involuntary, but the reality is that I am the one in control here.
Positioned behind me is a huge, chubby beast of a man. The thick hair on his chest and shoulders is matted and wet. His bald head is covered with beads of sweat. He is struggling, desperate to sustain the intense pleasure he experiences as he penetrates my body. Together we provide an erotic sountrack of moans, groans and gasps for air as our intimacy intensifies. We all know what he is feeling. The pulsating tingling in the base of his shaft that increases relentlessly as he approaches the point of no return.
He thrusts forward again and holds. Right on the edge, he is now unable to continue without losing it all. At this moment I face a wicked choice. Allow him a moment to recover so we can continue, or finish him off and claim my rich, creamy reward. It's simple really!
I arch my hips then slide slowly along his length, savouring for one last time every contour of his thick, veiny shaft. Then I pause, with just his head still inside my wet, sloppy opening. Suddenly, I slam back hard, taking him all the way in. "No, fuck no!" he gasps, losing any semblance of control as he starts to pound me relentlessly. Then I feel it. That delicious, unmistakable sensation of being filled with spurt after spurt of another man's semen.
Finally, he collapses on top of me, pinning me to the mattress, my head hanging off the end of the bed. I hear his panting gradually subside as his cock softens, eventually slipping out of me. By now, I am having a little difficulty breathing, this man is extremely heavy. So with one final effort I slide out from under him and stand up. "Thanks mate," I whisper softly to him, "that was amazing. Now if it's OK with you, I'm going to hit the shower." No reaction, he appears out like a light, so I head for the bathroom.
In the shower I soap myself thoroughly, all the while clenching my cheeks in the hope of retaining as much of my recent invader's load as possible. I dry myself, put on my loose fitting shorts, sandals and singlet, then pass back through the bedroom on my way outside. Time for one last look. I see he is spreadeagled on the bed, snoring lightly. His soft, shrivelled cock nestles on his big, hairy ball-sac. A single, pearl-like drop of cum glistens on the tip. I lean forward, gently licking off and swallowing the delicious morsel. This elicits one final moan from my sleeping giant. I walk out of the room, open the door to the apartment and make my way out onto the dazzling sunlit sidewalk.
On my way to the station, I take a moment to reflect on the man who has just performed that most intimate of acts on me, namely ejaculating inside my body. Truth be told, I know next to nothing about him. We met online and have barely exchanged more than a few sentences. To those who require a strong emotional connection with their sex partners this might seem strange, but for me the opposite is true. My arousal comes from knowing I am being used as nothing other than a vessel for his gratification. I give him what he needs, a hard muscular body, a very decently proportioned cock and a tight, but velvety smooth and intensely warm hole which I willingly allow him access to. I call this my cunt- that wickedly delicious word so perfectly describes, to my way of thinking at least, the part of my body that exists primarily for the purpose of giving other men pleasure.
These thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a now familiar sound. It is the message alert from my dating app, and it is always a thrill to hear it. I reach for my phone and open the app. It is a reply from a 75 year old man I messaged last week, seeking more information. His profile gave very little away, other than his age and the fact that he is a top. As well as his reply he has kindly sent me a picture of his erect cock. Surrounded by a thick nest of silvery-grey hair, it is a gnarly, weather beaten looking appendage. Most people might think it had seen better days, but to me it looks simply delicious. His message reads something like this:
"Hi, you messaged me last week, sorry for the delayed reply, I was out of town. Anyway, to cut a long story short, yes I'm very interested, you have a very hot body mate, thanks for sharing your gallery. I see from the app that you're only 500 meters away. Feel like dropping by for some fun?" (At this point he includes his address).
What a stroke of luck, miles from home yet somehow finding myself in the right place at the right time. Not an opportunity I would ever pass up. Five minutes walk and I'm there, knocking on the door, heart pounding from the erotic excitement of it all.
