Starting over with silver dads

[bflydude]

It was a whole new life for me: I'd just finished grad school, got my first job, moved to the States... and been dumped by my boyfriend. I was basically all alone in a mid-sized city, where the only people I had met were my landlord and some office mates. Having always swum on amateur leagues, I figured I'd join a master's team - now that I was in my later 20s, it was time to be an adult!
Most of the folks on the team were like those back home: former athletes of different levels, including moms in their 30s and 40s, business guys in their 40s and 50s, and a few older people. They were all very friendly and I found myself in a new "family" of sorts. We'd chat in the locker room, meet for coffee after weekend workouts when we didn't have to go into offices, and a few even invited me to their homes (Texans are very outgoing like that, something odd to me, coming from a big French city). So I didn't think it strange when Stan, a guy in his early 60s, chatted me up in the hot tub, where we'd gather after our trainings.
I was immediately attracted to Stan - he was tall, burly, with grey chest hair and a bald head... and (since the hot tub was men only and many of us went nude), I was able to see his thick cut cock and massive balls. It was all I could do to keep my own cock down and ass from twitching each time he smiled at me and said "howdy boy!"
One day as spring was turning to summer, Stan and I chatted about nothing in particular when he asked if I'd like to come over to his house for Memorial Day, a bank holiday in the States. He told me that there would be three or four friends, they would grill things and have beer - nothing formal. Without thinking, and probably too enthusiastically, I said that I'd love to. Secretly, I hoped that maybe it would end up just Stan and me and I could see more of him.
That day, I headed over at mid-afternoon, with the sun bearing down hard already. Wearing shorts and a Lacoste polo, I looked every bit the euro-boy I was back then, with my slight frame and 170cm (5'7" or so) height, things sort of draped on me. Stan greeted me at the door wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, his own build towering over me and his package suspiciously bulging out. I thought I must be dreaming when he winked at me, patting my shoulder and practically pushing me into the main room, handing me a beer.
"My buds will be here in an hour or so, but we can have some fun first". Stan's hand travelled down my back as he said this, resting on my ass. I hoped he would notice that I wasn't wearing underwear.
"Let's get you out of this getup," he said, not as a question but a command.
I couldn't help but get hard immediately, which didn't go unnoticed by Stan who pressed his growing cock into my buttcheeks.
"well well... I thought this might happen..." said Stan, as he ran his hands over my body. "I have seen you gawkin' me for weeks, not that I haven't been watching you too boy."
"Um... yeah... I mean." I stammered, somewhat overcome and definitely in need of some more of his direction.
"Don't worry bud," he said, staring into my eyes, "I'll make sure you're all good. I know what you need."
And with that, he kissed me while ripping my shorts off, exposing my hard cock and my tight ass, one that hadn't been used in months. "I see you like being taken care of boy."
So much of the rest of the next hour was a blur. I recall Stan pushing my head down to his lap, where his cock - now rock hard and much longer than I'd imagined it when I'd seen it flaccid - waited, leaking generous precut. I recall taking him in my mouth and him gently forcing his 8 inches slowly down my throat until I teared up, then whispering something like, "we'll have to find a more willing hole then boy", before he flipped me over and began eating my hole. I recall squirming in pleasure and begging him to stop, because I knew I'd cum if he kept that up, and feeling him go even stronger, opening me up as I jizzed into his hand, moaning in pleasure as he held me down with his other arm, strong as an ox and determined as a horse.
And I recall the look in his eyes when he too my cum and bathed my hole in it, adding his own ample pre-cum to that which he said "would be all the lube I got for now", as he pushed his thick, veiny shaft into my sloppy hole. I recall moaning in a mixture of pain and desire, and having this turn into lust and outright need as he began to fuck me, slowly at first, then deeper, then savagely, grabbing my hips and telling me that I was his boybitch. Then sinking in deeper, deeper and deeper - farther than any man had ever been in my hole.
When he fucked, Stan was the exact opposite of the sweet, homey guy in the locker room. He was an animal, determined to break me and then remake me as his toy. And that's exactly what he did, for what seemed like an eternity but was probably more like 20 minutes, until I heard him say, "I'm gonna cum boy. I'm gonna mark this hole good!" And then I felt it, a hot, wet sensation like no other, like he was breeding my soul.
We lay there, him grunting in post-orgasmic bliss for a few minutes, when I heard the front door open and the sound of three voices. "Stan bud, I hope he's as good as you promised...."
(to be continued)

 

[bflydude]

(part two)
Three other guys walked in, each of them looking me over as Stan pulled his horse cock out of my sloppy hole. I felt a strange mixture of embarrassment and surrender, like I'd finally been found out for what I was for years: a slave to the needs of older, bigger men - men like Stan, who it took only second to bend me to his will.
Fortunately, at least for my now creamy, gaping ass, Stan pulled up his trunks and went to great his buddies, smacking my ass and saying "good boy - let's take a break... for now" before introducing me around. First up was Ed, who looked like a slightly older copy of Stan, but with a shaved head: tall and hairy, a barrel chest and shorts that seemed to groan under the promising weight of what lay underneath. Ed added, with a wink, that he and Stan were first cousins - hence the resemblance! - and then patted my puffy ass cheeks. Next was Robert, lanky and skinny, but the tallest man I'd ever seen at nearly 200cm/6'7". His tan skin offered little hint of chest hair, but his big hands and feet held other allure. Robert stared at me and smiled wryly, saying little but "we'll get to chat later buddy." (I later learned that Robert was a prominent doctor in the area, using his knowledge to take care of me in more than one way.) Finally there was Manuel, a stouter hispanic guy who clocked in at just a hair over my height but several dozen kilos more. He wore a tank top that showed off his belly, chest and back, all of which were covered with thick black hair, and a pair of jeans that were clearly straining under the weight of his bubble butt and massive package. Manuel just chuckled and smiled, dryly, before handing Stan the beer he'd brought for the party.
Was I in heaven, hell or purgatory? I didn't quite know how to react, standing there naked, Stan's cum leaking out of my aching hole and down my inner thigh, while I was greeted by these three men, all in their 60s and 70s, who eyed me the way a predator surveils its prey. Fortunately, Stan took charge and told the guys to lay off me for now, taking control of my body by pulling my shorts back on, tucking my raging erection inside it as if he were putting a letter in an envelope or groceries in a bag.
I tried to act normally, to not freak out, to not show that I simultaneously wanted to run for the door and also bend over and have them use me like a cheap whore. And since Stan had gone to the kitchen with Ed and Robert and Manuel had headed to the backyard deck, where they were lighting a grill, all of them acting normally, I figured I might as well... "maybe this is how they do things here," I thought.
The next hour or so shifted the atmosphere, and all of us started to relax: the beers the men drank seemed to make them more jocular, whereas my head was still spinning, but also somewhat calmer. Stan was nothing but solicitous to me, putting his arm around me and patting my ass, getting me a drink whenever my glass was low, and teaching me fun American expressions - although still making as if he hadn't, only two hours before, told me he now "owned my boyhole", that "I was a good little slut," and that he would "use me the way I needed." I knew I didn't want to leave, but feared I might be in too deep.
The sun started setting around 6pm and the men were definitely less-than-sober, when without warning, Ed looked over at Stan and said, "I think it's time for the real fun to begin." To that, Stan agreed, saying, "yeah - I promised you a Memorial Day to remember. Right?"
He then looked at me with a piercing stare, asking, "what do you want to do for us, buddy?", before pointing to his shorts, tenting with an erection that made my hole quiver with excitement.
Without thinking, like I was on automatic pilot, I got on my knees and crawled over to his patio chair, hungrily unzipping his fly and swooning over his massive cock, recovered from our earlier fun to its full girth. At the same time, I heard Manuel, Ed and Robert move in, each of them dropping their shorts and revealing an array of mature meat: Manuel's thick, uncut dark cock was leaking, Ed's massive organ, so alike Stan's was semi-erect and in need of attention, and Roberts thinner, but so much longer curved cut member beckoned me. Where to begin? How to satisfy my urge to satisfy them all?
(to be continued)

 

[bflydude]

(part three)
Had it been two minutes or two hours? I didn't really know... As I moved hungrily from one cock to another, satisfying urges that I was only beginning to feel and not at all to understand, time seemed to stand still. Each of the men had their own way of using my mouth: Manuel pushed me down to his balls, which I lapped at like a puppy, before telling me to drink his copious precum; Robert was all thrusting, savagely holding my head as his long, thin curved cut meat, with a giant mushroom head pummeled the back of my throat; Ed and Stan, perhaps because of being cousins, told me to alternate between their two thick, meaty members, one getting satisfied by my gulping while the other ate my now sloppy, famished hole.
"Who's gonna fuck him first boys?" Said Stan, ever the consumate host. "He's lookin like he needs to be rode hard and put up wet."
"Man, I gotta get home to the wife - she'll be pissed if I stay out too late," chimed in Manuel. "Plus I dunno how much longer I can hold out. I got a five day load brewing."
"Have at 'em buddy," replied Stan, to which Ed and Robert agreed, patting his back. "He's got a load in already and we've opened him up sloppy, so he's good to go."
And with that Manuel turned me around and plunged his thick, uncut meat deep in me with one thrust and a grunting, "fuck yeah bitch!" I thought I would pass out, both from the sharp pain and the intense pleasure. My eyes, already teared up by the face-fucking Robert was administering, beckoned him back, and he really let go on my skull, staring straight into my eyes as he push his cock past my esophagus. All the while, Manuel bucked back and forth, back and forth, slamming into me like I'd insulted his mother, smacking my ass and pulling me down even as he pushed in. "What a good little slut man." He said between thrusts. "You said you'd been working him for weeks, but day-um!"
Stan stood over me, egging on his buddies whose cocks invaded my holes. "Yeah, I sorta had a feelin' we'd end up with him here, you know these boys." While he did this, Stan was taking photos of me being used and abused by his mates, laughing and encouraging them to go harder. "You gonna breed him or what buddy? You know we like a well slicked hole."
It seems like that was all it took, since only a minute later Manuel grunted and plunged in to the hilt, filling my guts with a huge load. He screamed and called me "puta", his body quivering with release. I, on the other hand, felt relieved to have some sort of lube in me, since I knew Robert would be next... and would not be so nice.
My fears and desires were correct, as the second after Manuel pulled out he was replaced by Robert's long, steel-like sword that, because of it's curve, opened up new parts of my hole as it tortured my sphincter. For his part, Manuel didn't seem to care that I was gasping in lusty agony, instead telling me to clean him off, which I did hungrily.
Robert was what I have come to know since as a mean fuck. A guy who gets off on hurting bottoms, but only as much as they crave. His fuck was anything but subtle - a mix of venting for what must have been life's disappointments and animalistic instinct. He didn't make love or screw or even plow - he threw a fuck into me and made me take it. And I loved it.
He tore up my ass for what felt like days, with Stan and Ed alternating on my mouth, continuing to take pictures of me being a whore for guys the age of my grandpa. And then, without warning, Robert shouted, "take my load bitchboy" before pinning me to the ground and unloading in one massive thrust. I lost my breath for a moment and saw stars, then, as if my mind and body separated, started begging for more.
After fucking his load into me even further, churning it up with Manuel's (who had disappeared in the interim), Robert finally pulled out, leaving my hole empty and wanting more. Little did I know, it would get it.
"Why don't we see just how much this bitch can take," said Stan to his cousin, with Robert sadistically grinning over their shoulder. "You ever taken a fist, boy?" "Ever had two guys in your hole?"
"uhhh.... no, but.... "
"but what, boy?" Stan commanded me, "say yes or no, we'll respect your choices. probably"
I wanted to say yes, because I'd always dreamed of being used this way by real men, but I was also afraid.
"Tell you what boy," Ed added, "if you wanna say no, do it now, otherwise we'll assume you're good to go. Besides, we're nice and gentle... unless you like it rough." He laughed with the last bit, and all I could do is role over, spread my legs and say, "sirs, I want you to own me."
(to be continued)

 

[bflydude]

(part 4)
There I was, naked and being gawked by Stan, his cousin Ed and their pervy friend Robert, my ass exposed and my legs open, slicked up with four loads and red from being smacked around. And I was begging for more, asking them to own me, fist me and use my hole.
My mind was swimming in a drunken cocktail of lust, repressed desire and shame, fear and excitement, and contentment at finally having some of my fantasies realized. It was like all of them men I'd been with, all of the unspoken prayers from my inner self had been answered. Of course, I didn't consciously think this, not then, since what I felt more than anything was Robert, slicking up my hole with some greasy lube and whispering in my ear, just barely audibly but with a smile on his face, "you are a fucking slutboi ... I'm gonna rearrange your guts you whore."
I wimpered and looked up at my host, Stan, the seemingly gentle old grandpa figure from the swim club. The same kind, burly old man who invited me to his house. The same take-charge, hairy 60-or-70 something stud who'd pumped a first load in me only hours before, this after eating my ass and making me cum. The same no-nonsense, bull chested top who used my load to slick his own dick up and relished passing me around to his buddies like an hors d'oeuvre. The same Stan who now egged on his buddy Robert, who had pushed four fingers into my hole, telling me I was now their own little man.
I wanted to please Stan. To feel his arms around me and his breath on my back, not to mention his cock inside me again. But what I got was sadistic, ever more cruel Robert opening me up like I'd never been opened before, making me ache with craven lust and need. Stan held my head to his thick, hairy chest, telling me what a good boislut I was. Ed moved around filming things, occasionally pulling on my nipples or pulling my head up by my curly hair. And Robert, the sick fucker with the longest dick I'd ever had in me, kept opening me up, more and more, while whispering in my ear that he owned me now.
At one point, I must have passed out - whether for pain or pleasure or both, I don't know. But when I came to, the three of them were sipping beer and laughing. My hole hurt, but also ached for more. More of these real men, men 3 or 4 decades my senior, men who knew exactly what I wanted.
"He's awake again, guys" said Ed, patting my ass and fingering my puffy hole. "Thought he'd be a bit tougher, but I guess it's his first time like that."
"Slut did pretty good, then," said Robert, walking over to me, his massive meat swinging around to hit my face. "But I gotta get off again soon, guys, and get home." Robert lay on his back, pointing me to his cock, which I began to suck eagerly.
"Me too," continued Ed. "I have work tomorrow and damn if I don't need to blow a load or three first."
"Well then," said Stan, ever the gracious host, "you'll just have to throw two fucks in him at once. We know he can take it." He almost laughed saying this, but continued, "and we all know you want it, don't you son?"
"Um..." I was still a bit groggy, but really didn't have time to think before Robert pulled me back on his cock, making me sit on it with one downward shove. "Ohhh fuckkkkkkk....." was all I could say at first, taking him past my second sphincter yet again.
"Move over Bob'O" said Ed, straddling him and, with no warning, shoving his own thick, girthy 7 inches into my puffy, stretched open hole. "I want at him too."
"Oh god oh god oh god..." or something like that, more a moan than words came out of my mouth, as these two grandpas simultaneously dicked me down, ravaging my slicken, cum-and-lube drenched hole with what felt like three kilometers of meat. "Oh fuck me please, please... fuck my pussy hole." I began to beg, not that they stop - I could have stayed in that bliss for days - but that they keep punching my guts, that they fill me with their seed.
I must have been a bit too loud in my begging-moaning-wimpering-sluttery, since Stan, who'd been filming, came over and put his own cock in my mouth, admonishing me to "keep quiet slutty boy," and "not wake the neighborhood." I did as I was told, eagerly sucking his manhood which bouncing on Robert and allowing Ed to meet my motions with his own thrusts.
They must have been pent up or just really horny, because my double-fucking didn't last more than four or five minutes, until I felt Ed tense up, grabbing my hips so hard that I was sure he bruised me, and shouting "I'm gonna cum in you boi". I felt his load enter my hole, providing a slick relief for the pounding that Robert was still giving me, and felt his cock engorge further as it bred me. Being held down and used, filled with cock and cum gave me a sense of purpose, fulfilling a deep need that I was only just starting to grasp.
And speaking of grasp, it didn't take Robert long to cross over the line, thrusting up into my guts so hard I thought he might seed my stomach. If Ed was a sport fuck and Stan a determined fuck, Robert was an angry fuck, laying into me a second load that night with a torrent of abuse that made me wonder if I'd done something wrong. (Stan explained he was just like that, and I later learned he was actually very kind with his pants on... but when his cock was out and hard, I knew to be ready for a beating... one that I came to desire!)
Stan pulled out of my mouth while Ed, now semi-soft - but still girthy - pulled out of my hole, leaving a panting Robert with his rock-hard monster in me, catching his breath. "Clench your hole son," commanded Stan, "these guys are gonna go soon and you're gonna need all the cumlube you have in there for what I've got in store for you."
As Robert pulled out, I obeyed without thinking, clenching my puffy used hole and looking at the two men whose loads were deep in my guts, before thanking them.
"Oh, you're welcome," said Ed, who was now getting his clothes on. "And we'll be sure to do this again, slut" added Robert, standing up and looking around. "But we know you're Stan's property, so best to clear out."
I managed to get on my feet, a bit wobbly, and walk them to the door, where each patted my ass before leaving. Naked, a hole full of cum and definitely still a bit overwhelmed, I didn't even notice that Stan had walked up behind me and, after closing the door behind them, grabbed my cock and balls tightly, which made me wince.
"Now that we're alone again, I'm gonna have some real fun with you boi."
(to be continued)

 

[RicoVA]

Awesome I’m loving this story very much

 

[thebubblegum112233]

It’s only right to be ruined by enormously hung, hairy, older men. Dads have monster meat and deserve to destroy tight hairy holes (mine, been saving it for a titanic daddy bear hog)

 

[yanggang]

非常好，继续努力，加油

 

[bflydude]

(part 5)
Stan and I were alone again, after an afternoon when I had been pushed past my wildest dreams and then some. My hole, still puffy from being fucked and fisted, still leaking from the succession of hot loads from Stan's mates and cousin, was also still aching, as was my cock, which was rock hard (I was still in my 20s, after all).
Stan shut the door and turned to me, staring directly into my eyes with a half-cruel, half-fatherly smirk on his face. He was the epitome of everything I'd fantasized over during my teenage and early adult years: taller than me, hairier than me (who wasn't though?), with thick arms and a manly, hirsute chest covered in grey hair. His cock was mesmerizing, even after I'd ridden it, and I couldn't take my eyes off. Without even being asked, I dropped to my knees and went to suck it in my mouth again, when he smacked me away.
"Not quite yet boi," he wisper-growled, putting his hand in my mouth instead. "I wanna get something to eat and enjoy watching you for a minute. Besides, that hole of yours is leaking all over my floor."
"Please please let me suck it, sir." The "sir" part just blurted out of me, as the most natural thing in the world. "Please, I really need to have it in me." I was reduced to a begging slut, which was perhaps the most honest I'd ever been in my life.
"Not yet boi," growled Stan, picking me up and literally throwing me on the couch. "I've got other plans for your holes." And with that, he turned me over and began eating my puffy, sloppy hole like it was a four course dinner, all the while smacking my ass and telling me how much of a good slut I was.
"Please sir, please... you'll make me cum." I hoped he'd recall that I couldn't control myself when I get rimmed, and how he'd used that first load from me to lube my hole and before he fucked it just a few hours prior.
Of course, that only made him more aggressive with his tongue and hands, alternating between them and driving me to the brink without me even touching my cock, the same one that paled by comparison to his huge meat that I couldn't get out of my mind. His relentless assault on my hole, already opened up by three other men and slick with their jizz, was bringing me to the brink. "Please, please... I'm gonna cum. Oh fuck, I'm cumming..."
As before, just as I shot off a reluctant load, Stan caught it in his beefy, strong hands, all the while continuing to assault my ass and its twitching hole. Just like the first time, he took that load and slicked up my shoot with it, adding several fingers as I ceded control of my insides to him. But unlike before, I felt his other hand on my cock and balls, gripping them just harshly enough that I deflated, but without causing me pain. Before I knew it, he had snapped a plastic cage around them, and then I heard the 'click' of a lock.
"whhaaaa... what are you doing sir?" I had never been caged before, and was still naive about so many things (Stan would solve that problem the same way he'd solved my 'never-been-fisted-but-always-wanted-to' dilemma only an hour or so before). "what is this?"
"This is for your good and for my amusement, boi." He said, flipping me on my back and staring me like the giant alpha wolf I always hoped for. "I've been seeing how your cock gets in the way of your pleasure, it's unreliable, even for a guy your age." I tried to process his words, but my now re-inflating cock pressed against the cage, causing it to pull back. "So let's see if you're more obedient with it out of the picture, so to speak."
"But... how? for how long? I mean...?" I was confused, but intrigued.
"Don't worry, you can always take it off by saying the magic word to me. And I'll remove it for you before swim sessions, since some of the guys in the locker room would wonder - or maybe be jealous!" Stan laid out his terms for possessing me, even as he fingered my needy hole. "But other than that, I have the key. If you don't want me to own you and use you like I see fit, you better tell me now son."
When he called me "son" I melted, aided by his relentless prodding of my guts with four fingers. I secretly hoped he would be able to fit in one of his fists, but feared they were too big.
"Yessir. You can own me sir. But please, please, please fuck me. I need you in me."
That seemed to be the right answer, because he flipped me over on my stomach and, without warning, barreled his 8 inch cock right into me, moving past the second ring in one thrust. I knew better than to scream, but let out a gasp that mixed relief and pure lust. Finally, I was in the control of a real man.
(to be continued...)

 

[bflydude]

(part 6)
That night, Stan fucked me like I'd never been fucked before. My cock strained against the cage, mixing the sheer pleasure my hole was experiencing with a type of unrelenting frustration that it couldn't harden again. I knew I should have objected, I should have said no, I should have begged for release. But I didn't. And I didn't want to. I wanted to be used, to be reduced, and be remade into something else.
After what seemed like hours - and two more loads in my hole - Stan told me he was tired and that I should leave, but that he'd see me before swim practice in the morning. Looking me straight in the eyes, he explained that I would be released from my cage only before swim sessions and that, unless I never wanted to have his huge dick and get his loads again, or if I wanted him to post the pictures he'd taken of me, I would then allow him to recage me after each workout.
I acquiesced, "yessir. I understand sir." Was all I said, as he patted my cummy hole and told me to get dressed. "I'll see you in the locker room then, boi."
I drove to my apartment, heart racing and cock still throbbing, wondering what I'd gotten myself into. And hoping to get myself into much, much more of it.
The next few weeks established our routine: I swam on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, making sure to arrive a few minutes early so that Stan could meet me in a bathroom stall, quickly release my cage, and watch me slip on my speedo. He would always wink at me, telling me I was a good boi, but that I getting hard was bad form in the pool. We swam in different lanes - he was nearly 40 years older than me and, although still very strong, my youth put me in the fastest group - but I could feel his eyes on me the whole time. If nothing else, I channelled that energy into the workouts, getting faster and faster, taking fewer rests and doing longer sets... anything to keep from getting hard, anything to get my mind off what I really wanted.
After training and showering, chatting with teammates and trying desperately to not look at Stan's gorgeous grampa body and huge meat, he would find a second - he always knew how, like some sort of 007 - and push me into a stall again, re-caging my cock and balls with a quick, harsh motion. Some days, when no-one else was around, he'd also finger my hole or tease me with his huge cock, but we never did anything more. And then I'd go to work, caged and horny and desperate to be released.
To take my mind off it further, and knowing that I could only see Stan on weekends, I took up running and weights in the evenings, making my short frame even more chiseled, but not helping with the horniness. On Stan's advice - and in order to make his sadistic buddy Robert happy - I also started playing with bigger and bigger toys in my hole, eventually taking some of the largest ones they could find. I would Zoom them while I did it, watching them jerk off and listening to them cheer me on. All of this - the workouts, the denial of my cock, the caging, the submission - rewired me slowly, and soon I found I didn't think so much about my dick as I did about my hole. I swear, one night I even had a sort of orgasm when I was playing with a 10" dildo while Stan and some other guy I'd never met (I think a distant friend of his?) commanded me.
That didn't mean I didn't ache for the weekends, when I would present myself to Stan and, sometimes, other friends of his. Robert, Manuel and Ed reappeared, but there were others who also took turns on me, all of whom were told by Stan what to do, what the limits were and how to do it. Mostly, I loved being able to service them all - and Stan most of all - to make them happy, to make them cum, to make them scream in orgasmic delight.
After about a month of this, I had to make a sudden work trip, which was super frustrating. My boss had called me into his office on Friday afternoon and informed me that he needed me to go to Chicago with him ... the next day! Now, Mr. Feilder is a good enough guy - actually, pretty hot for a dude who has a wife, three kids and two grandkids: 6'3", 230 pounds of mixed muscle and gut, big hands and, from what I could tell form his kakis, a promising package. But fuck, I wanted to get laid this weekend, not spend it in a dumb corporate meeting in Chicago.
I called Stan and told him, to which he laughed and said, "that's work boi... we all have to do it. Who knows, maybe it'll be good for your standing." Little did I know how much.
The flight went fine and so did the next three days, well, that is if you count mind-numbing financials and dull evenings with crap food and boring conversation. But we seemed to have impressed the people we needed to impress, and Mr. Feilder was definitely happy with my work on the account, telling me that I had saved him from embarrassment on more than one occasion.
On the last night, we went to the hotel bar to celebrate our good work: I really wanted to go upstairs and zoom Stan, even though I hadn't brought any "toys" (with TSA, you never know), but knew I should be a good underling. Mr. Feilder bought several rounds, most of which I didn't finish - I'm a lightweight in more ways than one, but he seemed to weather it all. We ended up in his room, where he poured another bourbon for himself and we sat on the bed. I felt his leg graze mine, while he looked at me with a smirk.
"So what's a young buck like you do for fun, son?" he asked me in a grandfatherly tone. "I bet you get up to all sorts."
"Um, not really Mr. Feilder," I replied, feeling his hand travel up my leg slowly, my cock pressing against its cage. "I don't have much time between work and the pool and the gym."
"Oh yeah, the pool." He winked at me, "my buddy Stan swims too... do you know him?" He looked at me, knowingly, as his hand reached my caged crotch, which he squeezed ... hard.
"Ugh..." I tried to formulate a reply. "Um, yeah... um Stan... ooohhh..."
"You don't think he didn't tell me about you, son?" Now Mr. Feilder's hand found my ass, which he began to rub and massage. "You don't think he didn't share any photos of you, son?"
I gasped, knowing I'd been set up, but also relieved that it was probably Stan who'd done it. I was still his boi, even if I'd been whored out to Mr. Feilder (who, after all, was my boss).
"You've been teasing me with that ass all week, son, now it's time to let me have at it." And with that, he ripped off my pants, revealing my bare ass and caged genitals. "Very nice. Stan said you'd be wrapped up for me, but it's still a joy to behold." For my part, I was panting as I grasped at his waistband, desperate to see what was underneath the tented material. A huge - and I mean HUGE - 8 inches of thick, uncut meat, and two massive, low-hanging balls greeted my hungry mouth.
"It's always the ones you least expect," I thought to myself, as I worked his cock. Or rather, as he violently fucked my face, all the while swatting my caged balls and cock, as if to emphasize the power differential. After a few minutes of this, he picked me up and impaled me - there was no other word for it, as he had offered little but a squirt of lube and no warning - on him, growling as I winced in pain-pleasure. My hole hadn't been used in five days, neither by man nor by toy, and I was tight. And willing.
The night passed in a blur of him fucking me, then abusing my hole, then fucking me more. I was so relieved to be on a man's cock again that I didn't notice until after Mr. Feilder came the second time, both buried deep in my guts, that he'd set up his laptop to transmit it all.
(to be continued)