I saw him online. Another typical shirtless torso, but a hot torso in a small town. You don't find many of those. But this torso was different than the rest: he was actually talking.
His stats: 36 years old, 5'9", 160lbs, muscular, Caucasian, 6 inches cut, straight/bisexual, married (to a woman), closeted, 3 kids.
My stats: 23 years old, 6'2", 185lbs, athletic, Caucasian, 7.5 inches cut (8 on a good day), gay, single, and ready to fuck the shit out of this married man.
I met him at his house in the middle of the night. He snuck me in the rear sliding door that entered into the kitchen and living room area. I could tell he'd had a couple beers, and he offered me one. Sam Adams. Good choice. We sat down in the living room in the dark, whispering to each other to officially meet, me on the couch and him in an armchair a few feet away.
I could feel his eyes on me. He was hungry. I gave him a better look-over in the faint light coming through the window from the street lamps: cute face, better body. He was wearing a t-shirt with grey sweatpants that were hugging his figure. But I needed to see more. Did he want to stay down here? Go upstairs?
"No," he said. "My wife and kids are asleep up there."
My dick couldn't control itself. At the mention of his family sleeping innocently upstairs, unaware that their husband/father/provider was about to get railed in their living room, my cock started straining against my jeans.
"Strip," I told him. He stood up and quickly tore off his shirt, his eager eyes darting cautiously to the stairwell. "More." He took off his sweatpants and stood there in his briefs. He wasn't hard, but I could see the outline of his package. His pictures didn't lie. He was a muscle daddy for sure, probably lifting every day. His pecs were round and defined, his built shoulders and huge biceps shaping him even more. Hairless, but hot.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked. I beckoned him over. I hadn't moved from the couch. He climbed up onto my lap and pressed me back against the couch, meeting my lips. He wasn't the best kisser, I'll admit, but sitting in my lap gave me the perfect opportunity to grab his ass and rub him against my hard-on. He had the perfect ass: muscular and tight to the touch. I pushed him away from me slightly, feeling his chest and his arms, locking eyes with him as I caressed him. How strange to be holding such a masculine creature in my lap, knowing that I was going to fuck him senseless. You'd think it'd be the other way around.
I told him to stand up. He obliged. He liked taking order. I undid the zipper on my jeans. "Come get it." He walked back over and knelt down in front of me, reaching his hand into my fly and finding my hard 7.5 inches already wet with precum. I couldn't help myself; this man was hot, and he wanted me to make him my bitch. He took my cock out and started stroking it, his eyes lighting up with a passionate hunger. Clearly, he liked what he saw.
"Can I..." he began asking, before I took his head with one hand and forced him down onto my dick. What a good little cocksucker he was. For all of his talk online about only having been with a few guys, he had definitely been lying. He didn't use any teeth, and his gag-reflex was non-existent. He'd had practice. He swallowed my dick whole, begging for more. I grabbed his head with both hands now, fucking his face harder and harder while he whimpered and started tearing at the eyes. He came up for air, "Fuck this thing is thick!" before I guided him back down again.