Over the Jumps

A sequel to "Equestrian Afternoon"

*

A text from Jay sometimes comes when he's horny but hasn't the chance to get away, reminding himself of the hot times that this young fella and I have shared. Sometimes he contacts me when he has a rare chance to get away from work, family etc and is desperately in need of "Daddy love" as he calls it. All too often this has coincided with a busy time for me and my responsibilities. Sometimes, I think of his magnificent bubble butt and how good it feels to penetrate his body but I know his sensitive situation, his family know he's gay and are supportive of him but his father is younger than me and I don't want any awkward situations arising.

Such is life for the people who fit together physically (and he is as good a fit as I've ever found), yet somehow, socially, other stuff gets in their way. I guess what's special about his visit is that it's always spontaneous, on the spur of the moment, often a complete surprise but he's discrete enough to message before he comes around. I'm often in the middle of something and, deciding I can put it aside for an hour or two, text him "C'mon over" in response.

Then, I have barely enough time to scrub myself clean in the shower and pull on a pair of baggy shorts before he rolls up in his battered old Land Rover truck. I'm trying to clear a way through the tools, the paint cans, whatever, so he can just get in the place.

Now I'd much rather 'cut to the chase scene' with a man. People ask me 'What would you like me to wear?" "Why, nothing at all!" I answer. So full of ideas about what makes masculine appeal, swallowed from the media, they're just disguises. A masculine man looks good to me in whatever and better in nothing. So when Jay turns up in old overalls, it's the man I'm looking forward to, not the overalls.

These cloths are sufficiently baggy to peal off immediately over his boots and leave him standing on the doorstep in the sunshine in his tented boxers and boots. Saluting like an idiot from Sargent Bilko. This aspect of his costume I can see as a real advantage but it's not making the overall a turn on for me, that broad, pale chest his beefy shoulders and strong neck are what's making my baggy shorts distend and a dark spot of freshly leaked pre-cum stain the fabric. It's the toothy grin on his stubbly blond face, his sexual longing and the look of lust in his eyes that pump the blood into my genitals.

He stands there confident in his arousal, confident in his near nakedness like a much more experienced, older man and dispels all my reservations about 'taking advantage' of the younger man's vulnerability. He's a real exception. Strong, forward, knows exactly what he wants and happily, that happens to be my cock, my mouth, my cum. Whoopy! It's a holiday!

I'd fuck him on the doorstep right enough, as I have with many a man who's turned up here gasping and panting for hot cock but it soon gets uncomfortable and if all they want is a quick souvenir of my spoog in their hungry cunt so be it. Some arrogant twats like to back their sad arse onto my cock, load up and go. I'm all for giving a guy what he wants but it's not really what I want. I'm in my element fucking out doors but I like it to be prolonged beyond a few strokes of the jackhammer. It doesn't bother me not knowing the guys name but when he's been here more than a couple of times it get's tricky if they don't have even an alias or a nickname, so I give them one, then when they come up on my phone wanting more I can figure out who it is.

It can be weird going into a stranger's home for the first time. I try hard to reassure any visitor with whatever purpose that I'm not a danger to them. Visitors of any kind are few when you're this far away. Even the most macho of men who come here for sex or otherwise are uneasy, so far off the road so many miles from the nearest neighbours, little or no mobile phone signal.

It never occurred to Jay to be nervous the first time, he never considered me a threat after our 'pre-amble' in the chat room, he knew what to expect and he wanted that for sure. He's a respectful lad and wouldn't get over familiar around my house, my stuff. We go to my room, we do what we do, he goes. It's a simple, mutually satisfying process that becomes more fulfilling the second time around when we have had a chance to learn a little that the other particularly likes.

On his back on my big bed wearing only his thick boot socks, I dive into his delicious white and pink arse and he quickly remembers the intensity of putting youthful flexibility to use getting his hips right up in the air, his feet way over behind his head, his knees right up to either side of his shocked face and I can open him right up and bury my face in the feast that is his crevice. Mumbling, chomping and slurping in that furry blond funnel, teasing and biting his tenderest parts and prying open his entrance with my long, fat tongue. He gasps and shuts his eyes, bites his lips and draws in a sharp, excited breath, he laughs and grunts with pleasure and his big, tense ball sack gets a prodding with my nose as I duck and dive in his hole. His big shiny knob-end bounces excitedly and dribbles-his copious honey (he's a real leaky boy this one) in a constant elastic strand oozing from his dick hole (meatus- me ate us).

I see this as a direct reward for my analingus, undeniable proof that he is driven by my enjoyment of his body. No pretence, he's out of his mind with lust and I'm really getting off on how helplessly eroticised he is. I pull open his cheeks with strong hands, wide and tense, flattening out his winking pucker and I dive headfirst back into the struggle between my lips, tongue and teeth and his defenceless opening. Plunging my tongue in until my jaw aches with the strain of trying to get further and further in, working my saliva into that little passage way. Lapping at the soft flesh, scraping my short beard against it, blowing cold breath on the wetted nerves and damp blond hairs, he quivers and moans and blow me down if his thick cock doesn't jolt and spasm and spit his thick, white creamy cum all over his own face. It's in his floppy blond hair, sliding in a viscose white avalanche down his broad nose, it's over his lips and over his left eye.

At the sight of this and after the excitement of gobbling his gorgeous arse, I'm just ready to lower his legs and let his freshly lubed sphincter ride right over my cockhead and take my seed. I let him down and slurp away the man-juice from his face, from his eye first as I know just what a sting that can give if you get cum in your eye. His face is a picture of ecstasy as my cummy kisses continue to ingest his cream and I clean up the glossy remains of his orgasm, he wriggles his arse as my rampant cock slides in that wet crevice back and forth, trying to make my head line up with is aching hole, his pole, as I remember from last time, still rock hard and ready, bobs and grinds against my lower belly.

Sticky lips, moustaches and beard, I finish cleaning up that blast of uncontrolled joy, myself drunk on a kind of high, so ready, so turned on I can hardly contain my urge to press my bulbous head into that warm, waiting chasm as he frots his cock, playfully, unselfconsciously in my belly hair. He purrs and opens his eyes and dares me to plug him. His hunger is written deep in his blue iris, the quizical, blond eyebrow, the longing lips that suck in my tongue again and again, simulating my stimulation of his anus and begging me to put my prick where my tongue couldn't reach. He so longed for me to batter his prostate with the crown (corona) of my hardened glans. He didn't say a word but his face was pleading, insistent, demanding that I slide that head inwards, stretch him open, drive right in and deliver my own hot body fluid. The agony is ecstacy, a corny observation perhaps but it's real.

I slip a hand under the pillow and feel around for the condom I know is there. His eyes go skyward as I tear open the packet with my teeth, he's impatient and frustrated and can't wait for my cock and I'm the older, wiser, "whore of Babylon" type who's about to shove my throbbing penis into his guts. There are guys who get it raw if they ask for it, Jay isn't one of them and none of the younger men that come to me get a raw cum load even if they beg me. I go with guys I know are pos for HIV or Hep B or both, I have an ex whose been pos for way more than 20 years and he's the reason I had Hep B innocculations. I've had spontaneous, unsafe sex all my life and been lucky. I know it's a double standard but that's the way it is. Jay get's a condom.

A fat cockhead and a thick, deeply veined shaft, make getting the rubber started a tricky business when you're quivering with sexual excitement and one flick away from blowing your load but somehow I always manage it even if the end of the rubber tube gets to halfway down my cock and that's that. It catches my baby batter and that's what counts.

Jay's copious pre-cum and a post-orgasmic, final glob of his own goo are a welcome substitute for fiddling around with gel from a tube and it's naturally slippery on the rubber end of my shrouded prick. His hole is so juiced up with my saliva that even with this amount of sexual pressure in my guts I can press right on into his inner warmth without resistance and with only the slighted whimper of pleasure from my equestrian friend. The exquisite sensation of that opening, yielding, stretching. Closing over my glans and sucking, sucking, sucking at the incoming shaft. I don't remember that miraculous experience ever being more vivid, more welcoming, more ravenous. His guts just closed over my cock like it was meant to be in there, where it belonged and a huge, involuntary sigh from both our pairs of expectant,gasping lungs bloomed into the room. The energy that passed along my shaft into his body and the power and warmth that radiated back enveloped us totally and our skin, despite the rubber insulation, electrified up both. I leaned back to make the most of the upward curve of my cock against his prostate as I drew back slowly and pressed in once more, sending a shiver right through Jay's powerful frame, his fuzzy blond calves draped over my forearms, my hands locked over his broad, square quads, his knees and thick, thick thighs against my torso, he was entirely speared on my quivering rod. The pleasure was unspeakably thrilling.

Somehow he lifted his upper body onto his elbows and made it plain with a wicked grin that he wanted to sit up on my cock. The horseman. Of course! How stupid of me! He needed to make use of those powerful thighs of his and he wanted to get 'in the saddle'.

This is never an easy manoeuvre to accomplish but counterintuitively, by first going forward and upward it's easy enough for me to sit with my legs out, then pull him up into a sitting position as I lie back. If a guy isn't absolutely turning me on by this point I've lost the peak of my erection, however in this case I felt as though my cock ought to be poking right out through the top of Jays head as his torso rose up and it was my turn to rest on my elbows. He planted his feet firmly at my hips and slowly raised his body weight on his dynamic leg strength waiting for all but the tip of my cock to emerge from his slimy inner sanctum before swallowing it and sinking down once more. His own cock fat and shiny wavered in front of my face just close enough at one point to touch the tip with my outstretched tongue to lap off another sweet pearl of his generous, natural lube.

I lay back and lusted after his lithe young muscularity as he sensuously rode my slippery prong, his fat prick pointing ever upwards as the tension in his lower body flexed with control and energetic prowess. "This lad must have a great communication with his horses if this is how he rides!" I thought to myself and I reached out for the shaft of his tool and fisted it roughly, like the handle of a machine that required a strong arm to operate. He grinned broadly, then let his tongue lol out of his mouth and I thumbed a dewy drop of his own juice with my other hand onto that lolling tongue and he pounced on it sucking my fat digit into his waiting maw, chewing playfully and staring mischevously right into my own eyes.

I felt, at that moment, as sexually charged as I had ever been and could hold off no longer. He could tell instinctively from my sudden scowl, the contraction of my lower abs, my stuttered breathing and forward lurching of my head and neck, that I was about to go over the falls but instead of reaching for his own cock in order to cum a second time along with me he held his squatted position with my nuts tight up against his sweet arse and reached out for my big, brown nipples between his thumbs and the knuckles of his forefingers as if holding the reins of his mount. The touch of his hands on those electric tips, as erogenous a body part as I possess and I was catapulted into a quaking orgasm. I bucked and shied as my cock swelled to bursting with the first blast into his body, his considerable weight was thrown forward and up like a rag doll and he crashed down again onto my bollocks as the second wad spat from my dick. I was on fire. He clamped down his grip on my tits and clung on for dear life which added another dimension entirely to my hopelessly uncontrolled spasms and I thought my eyes would pop right out as I spluttered and gasped and bucked again and again with each subsequent shot of hot cum.

His body twisted and turned to accommodate and absorb the rapid changes of direction and had I not been so out of my mind splattering my spoog, I might have noticed how his fine greek god-like abs, delts and pectorals reflected his elegant movements. Only his face betrayed his feelings, as his highly trained horsemanship instinctively dealt with the beast beneath him. His eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth gaped open until my convulsions finally abated, then, releasing my somewhat flattened rosebuds from his vice-like grip, he rocked forward onto his knees with my truncheon still pushed up to the hilt inside him, he grabbed the shaft of his own cock behind it's purple red head and began bucking his hips, milking my cock and his own at the same time. He fired another great gob of youthful kiddy custard right up onto my chin, then a thickly dribbling cascade across my panting chest before falling forward into it, grunting and spluttering in the resultant mess, making open mouthed expressions like a beached fish.

I laughed and we both laughed. Isn't that what it's all about? Having fun with our bodies?