Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
I’ve got a good arrangement going. These well-hung country-boys might be a stupid as the day is long, but they got the inches where it counts, and they keep me well-fucked. I’m not about to have that changed by no randy newcomer….
I’ve just finished pulling a train of three guys. I’m laid bare-ass on the grass feeling smug and pretty self-satisfied with myself. Although you know how bad grass-stains are to work out. There are blobby white jets of my own spunk all the way up my gut, spurted clear as high as my nipples, a warm sated feeling radiating from my twice-fucked bottom and a rich spermy taste deep in my throat. As sex-sessions go, it’s been great. But little did I know that this was the day when everything changed, and it would never be quite the same again. My first inclination that change was afoot was, hey, where are the guys? Shouldn’t they be here sticking their messy cocks into my face urging me to lick and suck them clean? No, they’re ignoring me, and that ain’t right. I raise myself up on one elbow in what — own up, must be a very provocative pose, and I can see their bare hairy arses in a row. Not a pretty sight. Ham is scratching his bum absently as he half-heartedly hauls his pants back up. They’re facing away from me, looking down the hill towards town.
‘Hey guys, like, what’s occurring?’ I ask.
‘Wipe yourself and get dressed, Al, you make the place look untidy’ guffaws Seth.
‘Looks like someone new is moving into the flat over Biggerstaff’s general store’ adds Ben, more helpfully. As though that is in someway more interesting than me?
‘Maybe it’s some hot nympho chick with big bazoomers’ sniggers Seth, making obscene thrusting movements with his hips that makes the fleshy cheeks of his arse wobble. These corn-fed country yokels are so predictably dumb. Strong in the arm, weak in the head. Reluctantly, as it’s obvious that the sex is over, I wipe myself with a crumpled handerchief and stand up to join them. Four of us stood on the crest of the hill where the grass is crushed down in an untidy fuck-circle, looking all the way down into town. You can see it all from up here, what there is to see. And yes, there’s activity going on there out front of the store. I get a weird feeling in my gut that all is not well.
Nothing else much happens until two days later. It’s Wednesday. And that’s when Biggerstaff closes up after lunch for what he calls ‘stocktaking’. At least that’s what he’s told his wife. And she believes him, or is at least happy to go along with the lie. I go around, in through the rear entrance delivery yard. And every time he warns me, ‘Mrs Biggerstaff must never find out about this, you promise?’ ‘Yeah-yeah, I promise.’ So predictable. He has like a little office in the storeroom where he’s laid on some cans and some porn DVDs. He has trade connections through the store suppliers, so he gets all the latest titles. We drink some lager. We watch some porn. Then I suck him off. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement that’s worked well for many months now. This time is different. This time it all changes. When, after the appropriate time has elapsed, I reach across to unfasten his pants-belt he tries to stop me. Grabs at my hand, then relents, and allows me my way.
Only slightly puzzled I unzip him and pull his pants down to his knees. He’s limp. That’s unusual. He’s never limp. Not after the porn-stimulation and the anticipated blow-job he’s about to get. He’s never what I’d call genitally big — not as big as the others guys I take care of, but soft it looks rather ridiculous. Nevertheless, I’m confident I can change its state. I squat down on my knees and get to work licking, kissing and sucking it. In the condition it’s in I can easily get it all in my mouth, no problem. But it stays stubbornly soft. This is a challenge. I use all my not-inconsiderable skills, caressing his drooping distended balls, using tongue lips and the hint of teeth, varying suck-intensity. And I know I’m getting a response because a thin line of moisture glints across his forehead, with sweat filming his fleshy face in a sleazy istanbul escort sick expression. Eventually it kind-of gets a lazy half-erection and a trickle of sperm oozes from its piss-hole into my mouth.
‘Sorry Al, I’m sorry’ he’s apologising for his failure to launch, folding it away hurriedly as though self-conscious.
‘What’s the problem, Mr Biggerstaff?’ I enquire helpfully.
‘Fact is Al, earlier today I went upstairs to pick up my rent from Alistair, and he’s an accommodating guy. He gave me head. He’s pretty good at it too. Not better than you, you understand. But different. And well, that’s why I guess I’ve got none left for you. Again, I can only apologise.’
‘That’s fine Mr Biggerstaff. No problem. Same time next week…? But I was lying. It was a problem. One hell of a problem. Who did this new guy — this Alistair, think he is, muscling in on my territory? This is not right. Not right at all.
Two days after that I was down at the soda-shop. After a few drinks and some banter I go back to take a piss. There’s a urinal where I take up position, and a cubicle, which is obviously in use because there are sounds coming from it. Not the kind of sounds you’d expect. I was curious. Moments later the door opens and out comes Seth hitching up his pants with a big goofy bashful grin on his face, and after him trails this other guy I don’t recognise, and he’s wiping his mouth self-consciously. It’s obvious what they’ve been doing. This, I realise, is Alistair, the new wimp in town. And yes, he’s young — twenty, maybe twenty-two at most, and quite pretty in a girly-boy kind of way. Slim, dark, almost delicate. But hell — what am I doing thinking such stuff? He’s been in there sucking on Seth’s big cock. That’s my job. That’s what I do. That’s what I’ve been doing for ever. I don’t need any competition, thank you.
I’m the small-town wimp. Always have been. That’s what defines my role. All these guys have needs. I have like three, maybe four regulars. And three others I meet up with on a more casual basis. They’re all married now, or in a committed relationship, but you know how guys are. They have needs. Sometimes they can’t be bothered with all that lovey-dovey seduction build-up stuff that the girls want. They haven’t the patience for tenderness and romance. They aren’t understanding when their women-folk are reluctant or not in the mood. They’re hot and horny and just want to get their rocks off. They just want a warm hole to fuck. Hello — that’s where I come in. Sex is a gift, and I’m glad to be on the receiving end. I go down on them when they want it, or I bend over so they can fuck me, discretely. These wives should thank me, they should be g rateful. I guess that I’ve saved marriages by siphoning off that aggressive spontaneous fuck-energy. That’s something to be proud of. I don’t need this new guy coming around taking advantage of the cocks I’ve been so assiduously taking care of all this time. I’ve got a good arrangement going. These well-hung country-boys might be a stupid as the day is long, but they got the inches where it counts, and they keep me well-fucked. I’m not about to have that changed by no randy newcomer.
So I determine to go around and see him, now, and have it out with him. Put him straight on a few things. Warn him off my guys. I’m determined. I sit downstairs in the bar nursing a dandelion-and-burdock for some twenty-minutes. My brain seething, going over the arguments in my head over and over again. Keeping the anger simmering below the surface of my mind. Yes, I’ll tell it to him straight. That’s what I’ll do. I wander across to the store. Biggerstaff is there serving old widow Henderson. She’s talking to him in that endless stream of gossip way she does and he’s saying ‘yes, oh yes’ at appropriate points. He sees me but deliberately looks away as though he’s embarrassed. Adjacent to the storefront there’s a flight of white wooden stairs leading up to the flat. I take them two at a time. Pause. Hesitate. Then knock aggressively.
The door opens. Alistair. He looks up at me and smiles. ‘Oh hello, rus escort Al isn’t it? I’m so pleased to meet you, do come in.’
I respond to his invitation as though I’m on automatic. I’ve seen the flat before. But he’s changed it. There’s pink paintwork and chintz, fluffy cushions and floral curtains. There’s even a couple of pictures on the wall and a vase of flowers on the side-unit. Turning my attention to him he’s wearing a short ‘T’-shirt that rides above an inch of slim midriff, and tight white shorts.
‘Sit down please’ he fusses, ‘can I get you a drink or a biscuit maybe?’
I sit down. The chair is deep and plush. ‘I came around here for a purpose’ I start, determined not to be distracted from my purpose. ‘You see, me and some of the guys around here have a long-standing arrangement…’
He passes a china tea-cup of lap souchong across to me, with an Italian biscuit in the saucer. ‘Please before you go any further.’ He makes a flouncy gesture with his hand and stands up, hand on hip. I can see the way the tightness of his shorts bulges across the crotch. ‘I know what you’re about to say, and I’m sorry. Please forgive me. You see, I’ve just moved into town, I’m the new kid, the outsider, I don’t know anyone, and it’s a lonely frightening time for me. I need friends. I’ve never been understood or accepted anywhere, so it’s important to me that I’m accepted here. And if, in trying to do that, I’ve inadvertently made a few social faux pas I can only apologise.’
He squats down beside me, looks up into my face with big appealing eyes, and rests his hand just above my knee. ‘I do hope we can be friends, Al, even though we’ve got off on the wrong foot. Please say we can.’ His fingers walk a further inch up my leg, and I swear I get an answering twinge in my groin. Is he trying to seduce me? He’s sexually active alright. So why not…?
He stands up. My attention is drawn, almost against my will, to the bulge in his shorts. I can clearly see the outline of the genitals within. I swallow lap souchong with an audible gulp. The next time he squats down beside me his hand rests directly on my groin. His touch as soft as a snowflake. ‘Please say we can be friends Al, I’d do anything to make up for your hurt, just anything.’
He draws my zip down with slow deliberation. I’m frozen, holding the warm china cup with the biscuit overhanging the rim of the saucer. His slender fingers quest inside. Make contact. And extract my cock. His touch is magical, so tender as he gently squeezes and eases up and down its length. I sit and allow him his way. Despite all the sexual adventuring I’ve had, it’s always been me doing stuff to them, they’ve never bothered with my body, apart the way Seth mocks and ridicules the fact that I’m smaller than they are, in every way. Alistair seems to enjoy what he’s found in my pants. Then his head goes in and its like every electrical circuit in the county has exploded in my brain. His lips encircle my glans, his tongue traces the shape of its contours up and around, then he sinks it smoothly into the moistness of his mouth. And sucks. That first suck rocks me from head to toe, as I gasp in air in a great sobbing breath, and breathe out heavily between my teeth. Each lapping tongue-tip flickering around my cock-head is teasing and coaxing, shocking exquisite shimmers up and down the length of my shaft, targeting my balls, shivering up my spine, detonating across my brain. If this is what it felt like for the guys I had blown, no wonder they’d come back for more. I carefully put the cup down on the coffee table, scared I’ll drop it and it’ll shatter into a hundred pieces.
Looking down I can see him looking up at me with big yearning eyes. I’ve never felt it appropriate to call a boy ‘cute’, until now. Even though my cock is distorting his mouth out of shape it seems he’s smiling. Then he closes his eyes as though in bliss. I can see his cheeks pulsing in and out as he sucks rhythmically at me, making little purring pleasure-sounds as he does so. He’s got me trembling uncontrollably, forced to şişli escort the extreme edge of excitation. I’m gripping the chair arms now, feeling a thousand things race through me at once. Until at length he moves his head back and away. Leaving my rearing cock glistening with his warm spit. He looks up at me, then down at it, and kisses it delicately on its fat purple head. For a terrible moment I fear it’s over. That he’s not taking it further. Then he simpers, ‘shall we go to the bedroom? We can be more comfortable there. I like your cock. I want to explore it some more.’
He stands up, brushing loose strands of hair from his face. There’s a trace of saliva at the corner of his mouth. I just can’t believe what he’s been doing, but the evidence is there. He reaches out flirtily, takes my hand, and draws me unresisting into the small adjoining bedroom, my cock protruding ludicrously stupidly from my fly. Fumbling in his haste, he helps me off with my shirt and eases my chinos down and off, laughing delightfully. His effete quality makes me feel almost primally masculine by contrast. I feel big and clumsy in a way I’ve never felt before. He pushes me gently so I fall back naked onto the bed, my erection lolling heavily up against my stomach. Then he crouches down between my splayed legs and gets my now-stiff cock back into his gob, sucking more aggressively, more urgently now, holding nothing back like some wanton greedy-vulgar slut. My hips move in unconscious response, instinctively fucking up further into his eager little throat.
This time it’s as though I’ve come alive. I wrestle him around and playfully tug at his shorts. His tinkling laughter is a pleasure as he strives to keep my cock in his mouth as I work to undress him. His shorts are tight, but I manage to pull them down and off over the rounded girlish curves of his buttocks. His long slender cock springs out for my appraisal, the dainty oval eggs of his tight balls, virtually hairless clustered beneath. If there’s such a thing as a feminine cock, this is it. And I want to taste it all. As I move in towards him he rolls over and around gracefully towards me so we fall naturally into the sixty-nine position. Close up his cock looks even more flawlessly adorable. The soft downy hair. The moist mauve glans shyly emerging from its tasteful foreskin. I ache for it. My lips close around it. He’s in my mouth, smooth, clean and delicious. Even as he’s drawing me back into the moist maw of his welcoming throat, devouring me. And oh, it’s so good, just about better than anything else I’ve ever done. The air in the room is still and cool on our naked intertwined bodies. There’s no sound but the moist slurp of our mutual sucking, the smooth glide of our bodies moving together, and the protest of the squeaking bedsprings as we roll over so first I’m on top, then he is. My burning erection in his mouth, his stiff cock in mine. His tight tasteful balls swaying gently on my chin. I catch the aroma of the flowers in the vase, mixed in with the delicate sex-musk of his groin. It’s so intoxicating. Long moments later, but almost too soon, we ejaculate almost simultaneously into each other’s throats with a feeling of all the stars in the galaxy exploding in my head. His spermy-nectar swishing around my mouth as I swallow his gift. Pumping mine into him in startlingly intense bursts of sensation. We stay locked for minutes after as the perspiration cools. Nuzzling each others groins more gently now. Less urgent.
He sits cross-legged on the bed beside me, naked. He looks down at me sprawled across his duvet as though he’s scared of my reactions. As though he’s frightened, somehow doubtful about how I’m going to react. ‘Does this mean we’re friends now?’ His voice trembles, as though on the brink of tears. I’ll tell you, I’ve been fucked by other guys, but I’ve never ever had the desire to take that active part, and fuck anyone else. Until now. Next time — and make no mistake about it, there will be a next time, I’m going to get my stiff cock all the way up Alistair’s beautiful little bum.
I smile up at him reassuringly. ‘Sure, we’re friends.’ I’m no longer the small-town wimp. He’s inherited that role. But suddenly that’s fine with me. We can share those other guys, just so long as we can do this some more. From this moment forward, things are gonna be different…
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32