After The Funeral - A Marine And A Judge Celebrate LIFE

After the Funeral – A Marine and a Judge Celebrate LIFE

by BillyC
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We got in from our early morning run and were enjoying the feel, taste, smell and sight of each other’s sweaty, pumped muscles when the phones went off. PhoneS because we have our cell phones paired to the house phones – yup, we’re that old, we still have a landline . . . but the wireless system in the house is high-tech, so our mobile phones Bluetooth to the house system. It seemed like a good idea at the time . . . and when we’re not fucking our brains out it is, even though every phone in the house goes off regardless of whether it’s my husband’s phone, mine or the land line – different ringtones, of course, though that usually leads to a momentary, “Is that yours or mine?” exchange if we’re not near our own cell that’s ringing, before we just say fuck it. BUT . . . when you’re in mid-rut, having added loud, masculine sounds of your own to the sensory pleasures we were wallowing in, the sound of sixteen or so phones going off in the house is the wrong kind of distraction!

Our geriatric neighbor, Jeannette, was calling to confirm that she wouldn’t need a ride into town from us to her daughter’s funeral that morning. We’d been worried that this eighty-year-old, self-sufficient, mega-caretaker-to-everyone-else would be driving herself. She had talked to her two inconsiderate, irresponsible, crazy grandchildren – literally crazy, as in frequent commitments to care facilities – and they’d confirmed that her grandson was, after all, willing to drive her to his aunt, her daughter’s funeral. Once again, my husband Jim and I both were reminded of how grateful we are for our own wonderful families, seemingly the exception to a dysfunctional rule neither of us really understood.

The call gave us an extra hour – more than enough to get back the momentum we had . . . and more. If we’d only known that the funeral and related “events” were going to last more than six hours, we might have taken that full extra hour . . . and more.

SIX AND A HALF HOURS after we’d left for the drive in . . .

“And the recipient of your snarky email is . . . ?” Jimmy asked, observing me thumbing my iPHone from the moment we got into his toy, as I call his ridiculously expensive, limited-edition sports car/rocket we’d driven up in. I tease about his car, but I do love that he loves it, and it suits his sense of style and expensive tastes overall. I being his singular “beer budget” acquisition! LOL

“Sir Patrick,” I answered him, differentiating him from another of my favorite correspondents, also named Patrick, while I continued thumbing the screen. “I figure if I write him a sob story about the LONGEST FUNERAL EVER – GEEEEZZZUSSSSSS! – well, maybe he’ll email us something back about some sordid details of their Saturday, which he hinted might include plenty of fucking. I hope SOMEONE spent the day fucking anyway!”

Jim put his big, warm hand on my thigh, his long, strong fingers brushing my nuts and cock through the expensive weave of the suit slacks he’d selected for me. I was, of course, instantly electrified, ruing the half-hour drive home, and the toy being too small for road head – my husband hadn’t taken that requisite into consideration when he’d ordered it! – I was stymied for relief in any way grander than a hand job. When I had my hand in his lap, I knew he could use it as much as I could. Patience . . . not my strong suit these days. And although I’m not above a tug, it wasn’t enough, wasn’t what I needed after hours focused on death and grief.

By the time we’d left the highway and were going through our tiny town on the way to our house, we’d both edged each other through our painfully-tented slacks for over twenty minutes, during which, given the venue and the need in that relatively short time, we had to restrain our passions, it seemed like an eternity. We were out of the car in the garage and chasing each other, grab-assing through the house, coats, ties, shoes, shirts all strewn somewhere and both of us ripping our pants and jock straps we’d worn under them off when we got to our room. I literally launched myself at him once there, causing us to crash on our huge bed in a pile.

From there it was all gropes, rubs, grinding, kisses, licks, bites, growls and moans going to pleas, yelps and, finally, demands as I held him down on his stomach, feasting on his still-loaded ass from our time in the morning and pigging out on our juices pickled inside him. The heady aroma, sticky gooiness and taste of our combined juices of passion from our earlier enjoyment of one another was, as always, intoxicating and addictive in its present, immediate effect as well as the evocation of the earlier undertakings which had left his cunt in such a delectable state.

Finally, when he really couldn’t stand it anymore – and if we had another house nearer than half a mile away, the neighbors would have certainly notified the sheriff given the volume, intensity and continuing shouts and screams from him – he executed a deft move that, if I hadn’t been so focused on my favorite pleasure point I would have shaken off. Before I realized it, he had me on my back and was raping my cock with his talented musclecunt. He had skewered himself on my throbbing, drooling horsecock and was grinding and fucking himself on it before my yelp of delighted surprise was squelched by his determined growl.

There was nothing but purpose in it by that point. He rode me HARD, and his sweat splattered off his forehead and chest every time he CRASHED down again to meet my upward thrusts and grind the last millimeters of me up into him each time with a grunt of satisfaction. I was all sparklers and roman candles, earthquakes and sky rockets, all erupting inside me from toes to hairline and everywhere in between, shouting encouragement amid the moans I couldn’t stifle. He was focused determination through undulation, gyration and muscle control, milking me more effectively than any of the latest dairy farm technology could have, his fists planted on my pecs, steadying him to up his ass game even more.

I saw and felt him beginning to tense, after having worked in counter-thrust to my own assault on his ass to assault and massage his prostate, and I saw his big, hairy balls pulling up as he neared his point of no return. He suddenly commanded, “CUM IN ME – NOW!” – surprisingly articulate amidst the garbled half-words that had been flying out amid his moans, groans, grunts and growls – and he finished with a return to a guttural growl, grinding down onto me HARD right in a sort of grinding twerk as his huge, veiny shaft twitched up and his big helmut cockhead flexed its flanged edge so hard his head completely freed itself from his foreskin. That first shot of his spooge which followed that magnificent sight splatted against my chin.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” I cried out after a startled gasp, as my own nuts exploded unexpectedly, causing me to arch my back and drive my husband up as I jammed myself as far inside him as I could while I pumped out my seed in hard, stabbing up-thrusts, timed to his continuing blasts all over me.

When Jim finally had come down to drooling on my solar plexis, my torso, face and the bed and headboard behind me was drenched with his spunk. My own final pumps left me panting and sweating, when I felt my husband collapse down with his hands flat on my spunk-loaded pecs, letting his head fall forward until his forehead rested against mine. “I needed that!” he huffed out.

“Babe, your needs, my pleasures,” I panted up at him, making us both chuckle.

After a couple of minutes of catching our breath, nuzzling noses and settling next to each other, sweating into the bedcover, we were both at the stage of either collapsing and lazing around for the rest of the afternoon into the evening or getting up and doing something. “Bike ride,” I posed enthusiastically, startling him for only a moment.

Jim agreed just that fast, and, after a quick last kiss, he had vaulted off the bed onto his feet. “C’mon,” he urged. When I didn’t move – I’d not meant to disturb our post-coital respite quite that immediately – and just continued grinning up at him, he asked, “What?”

I kept looking up at him, enthralled with the sight of his sweaty fur over the rippling mounds of his muscles, the mix of sweat and cum from where he’d let himself down on me after spooge-torrenting me. His handsome face above and big, swinging dick below, still turgid and hanging at about a hundred-thirty-five degree angle and big, spent balls bobbing behind it, those muscular, furry legs planted, all of him took my breath away as much after five years as it had that first time I saw him.

Laughing, he reached out and clasped his hand around my forearm, and I instinctively clamped my hand on his hairy, muscular forearm, uniting us and a frisson of renewed electricity in my nuts at the feel of our masculine grip. As he PULLED me up, he chuckled. “You can see this old bod anytime, but it’ll be dark in a couple of hours, so let’s get going on that ride.”

“Sure you’re up for another RIDE?” I taunted him, causing him to slap my ass as I landed on my feet.

When I started toward the bathroom, he said, “Let’s just suit up and get going. I want to double down on these endorphins, and we can shower up when we get back.” He emphasized the point by leaning against me and taking a long, loud sniff at the base of my neck, which sent a bolt of lightning right to my nuts. “Besides, I love the way we smell, but I’m IN love with YOUR scent. Let’s go work up some more sweat.”

SOLD! We were in our cycling gear and out to the garage bay with the bikes and on the drive toward the road within a few minutes. As we turned out onto the road and headed toward our bereaved neighbor’s house, Jim called over, “Maybe the not-showering was a bad idea. If Jeannette’s car is there when we come back, we should probably stop by, but we can’t, as rank as we are now, much less when we get back!” With that he pumped faster and took off.

It was a great ride, and we made the course work out so that we were turning back down our road right at twilight. When we passed our neighbor’s driveway, her car was there, but there were also two other cars, so we weren’t as chagrined about the shower decision.

We got into our garage, and I was just lifting my bike back onto the wall rack when I saw Jim pulling a face, looking at his bike seat. And then, looking at the seat, I saw . . . some slushy white in the glare of the overhead light. My eyes snapped up to Jimmy’s as his met mine, and then we both laughed. I’d pumped enough seed into him that it had churned out of him, through his padded shorts and onto the seat during our ride. Oooops!

We both guffawed and had a good laugh . . . right up until I saw Jim’s grin go evil. I raised my eyebrows, and then Jim turned around toward me and pulled the back of his bike shorts down seductively, looking back over his shoulder, now smirking. “You check that end; I’ll take care of this,” he told me, throwing a look toward the seat. Then he wagged his exposed, wet fuckhole at me, and he bent over with his face approaching the seat. “Not going to let this go to waste,” he said and proceeded to lick the cummy bike seat.

“FFFFFUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKK!” I moaned, feeling my nuts go electric and my cock resuming battle stance.

He was swiping the seat with big, flat tongue-strokes, moaning and growling, interspersed with a “we taste DAMN good.” After my exclamation, he said clearly, “Why’d you think I pulled down my shorts? 

Hope you weren’t this slow on the battlefield, Marine!” and wagged his ass at me again and went back to slurping the bike seat.

Well, he might be right, but THIS Marine was not having THAT – I had my own idea! I fisted the hem of his bike shirt and pulled him back, moving around in front of him. I pushed him down and ordered, “SUCK IT!”

He yanked my bike shorts down as he fell to his knees, giving no quarter to the difficulty of getting my shorts over my recharged fuckbone. As he ripped the shorts down it contorted my cock painfully, causing me to grab a handful of his hair . . . which was, of course, exactly what he wanted! When my twisted fuckbone finally snapped free, it hit him smack in the face. But his reflexes are sharp, and he wrestled that bad boy into his mouth and had a fistful of my nuts before I could reach to help him.

“OH FUCK!” I gasped, feeling the warm, wet tightness of his throat as he forced me in farther – and his grip, yanking down my sac and squeezing my nuts. Then, just as fast he was off me again – a full round-trip, nose-to-pubes/cockhead-down-gullet then my cock waving in the cool near-evening air.

With his grip on my aching balls provocatively tighter, he quickly replied. “That was my idea; this is yours!” Then he went back down on me and worked his mastery on me, simultaneously challenging my nuts and working every square inch of the surface of my cock.

Jim’s blowjobs are spectacular – have been since the first day we hooked-up. I asked him that day how he’d gotten so practiced at deep throating a cock as thick as mine, which had very rarely ever been down any man’s throat before. His reply came with a smirk: “I’m a fast learner when there’s something I want to do.” He told me later that he’d sucked countless cocks in his life, but he’d had only a couple anywhere near my proportions – he just WANTED mine that day and forced himself, finding it wasn’t as difficult a feat as he’d thought before, more like stretching his skills – pun intended. In the garage nearly five years later, there was no evidence of difficulty as he laved my shaft and head – all the way up and down – as he sucked me rapidly up and to the edge.

I was huffing and moaning and growling and encouraging, when I could form words, steadying myself with my left hand still twisted tight in his hair and my other on his shoulder to keep my knees from buckling as I skull-fucked HARD into his face. Despite the open garage bay door, our sweat and reek from our earlier sex and from the bike ride was tangible. His and mine – different, individually, and the combination of us both even headier, well known to me as US.

Jim knows my cock as well as I do, and he knew I was careening toward that edge at breakneck speed from the thickening and hardening of my cock and the cadence of my panting and garbled exclamations – I had no need to tell him I was about to cum. But I did anyway, and I barely had the words beginning to form when he pulled off me suddenly – both mouth and nut-grip. “Last chance,” he panted up at me, recharging his lungs, his grin challenging.

I knew what he meant . . . and I knew what he wanted . . . and my cock made my decision for me. “Finish cleaning that seat!” I spat out and was gratified to see his eyes narrow but light up, too. He was on his feet again in a blur of motion, my hands falling away from him as he pivoted and started licking the seat again, having shoved his ass out and back into me.

No time was wasted in me grabbing his shoulder with one hand and his hip with the other and SLAMMING my cock into him balls-deep. 

“OHFUCKYES!” he shouted, and I felt him clench on me and move back into my fast, hard slams into him. “GOD YES – JUST like THAT!” he moaned, the bike wobbling and toppling, causing him to grab his knees to steady himself, counting on me to hold him up too, which I did.

I banged his p-spot hard and fast, as I didn’t have a lot of time before I was going to re-seed him. And then I felt him reach back through both of our legs and grab a handful of my swinging sac, and he growled, “YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

I did, and I jackhammered his spot faster and harder as he pulled my nuts and squeezed them with his hand as he squeezed my cock with his cuntmuscles. I was hurtling now toward the edge, the electricity sparking in my nuts, and I thought I was going to lose this one when suddenly his CLENCH on my nuts went steady, his body tensed, and his fuckchute then began spasming around me has he cried out his release. “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGODDDDDDDDD!”

My firing pin was finally set off. “OOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” I shouted, clenching my hands into his shoulder and waist HARDER than I wanted, but was powerless to control, as my body bucked and expelled my essence into him.

“GOD YES. FUCKING FIILLLLLLLLLLL ME!” he growled, still bucking himself through his own climax.

I roughly pulled him up to standing as I jabbed myself into him for the last few shots and roughly bit the base of his neck and sucked up a mark. “Oh FUCK yeah!” he cried out, his arms coming back, his hands finding my ass and holding me tight inside him as we both shivered our last.

Finally letting loose of his skin with my teeth he gasped from the sudden abandonment. Then I kissed him behind his ear and was rewarded with a long sigh, his body slackening into my hold, his grip on my buttcheeks tightening.

“How ‘bout we go inside and get to that shower?” I asked him softly, my lips brushing his ear, the two of us still joined by my softening cock inside him.

“Maybe a long bath in the Jacuzzi,” he countered.

He’s the smart one!