Balls Deep with Bud

I was a college freshman and lived in the oldest male dormitory on campus. They’d renovated each room over the summer, and my new roommate and I quickly snatched up one of the best. It even had a real working fireplace!

This October day, I’d gotten up late and had to hurry before the cafe stopped serving breakfast. I stripped down, tied a towel around my waist, and headed to the bathroom for a shave and shower. A row of individual shower stalls lined the right wall, with sinks, mirrors and two urinals and a toilet stall on the left. Not a soul in sight. Good. That meant I had the whole place to myself and could shave in peace, without making small talk.

I hung up my towel and caught sudden movement behind the last shower curtain. Bud the janitor backed out, maneuvering a mop and metal bucket.

Now, let me tell you a little something about Bud. A tall black dude, 6 foot 3 or 4, approximately 45, maybe 50--or so I thought--sharp buzzcut with grey at the temples, one diamond earring, and surprisingly jacked. Actually, that was the first thing I noticed about him, how rock solid his arms were. Grapefruit-sized bis and veiny forearms. Thick neck, too. A good-looking older cat who always wore a tight white tee-shirt and jeans and pretty much kept to himself. In my entire month there, I’d seen him practically every day, but we never said a word to one another.

Until today. Today changed everything.

Bud looked over and grinned at me. “Hey,” he drawled, in a deep voice.

I said hey back. “Hope I’m not fuckin’ up your cleaning schedule, bro. I’m runnin’ a little late this AM.”

“No problem. It’s good to have company,” he grinned, wringing out his mop. “You like livin’ on 4th?”

“Yeah, man, it’s a little quiet, though. I like bein’ rowdy, but I won’t get much of a chance with all the fuckin’ rules around here.”

“Know what you mean, it’s like a bunch of old ladies run this place. Name’s Bud. And you’re?

“Derek. Pleased to meet you.” We shook hands, and Bud towered over me. When you’re 5 feet 8, pretty much everybody does.

“Off to class?” he asked, leaning on his mop.

“Nope, breakfast and the gym. Gotta lift.”

“Oh, an iron man, huh? Should’ve known by the shoulders. You’re what, 18, 19? Great time to build muscle, when you’re young.”

“Just turned 18 three weeks ago, day after Labor Day. I’m trying to put some more beef on my legs. Calves are way too small.” I flexed my quads. “Gettin’ there.”

“Legs are tough when you’re tall, like me. Upper body, yeah. That’s always been a snap.”

“Thought you had to be a gym rat. Those pythons are killer.”

“24-inchers, last time I measured. Thirty inch waist, too, with an 8 pack.” He slapped his midsection. “Yeah, I’m in good shape, for an old fart. Used to compete in Bodybuilding shows as a heavyweight. Still tip the scale at 256.”

“Hardcore. I clock in at a buck 90. No contest winner. Not yet, anyway. Haha!”

“Keep hitting the weights, and you’ll grow. I got me a sweet set-up in my apartment. Why pay a membership fee? Besides, you can’t take your shirt off at a regular gym. At Bud’s gym, everything’s allowed.”

“Rad. Wouldn’t mind checkin’ that out, sometime. Well, man, not to cut this short, but I gotta hit the showers. Awesome chattin’ with you. Have a good one.”

“Same here, kid.” I swung aside the shower curtain. Bud, meanwhile, flashed me a thumbs-up and began wiping down the mirrors.

Hmm. That was pretty cool, I remember thinking. I’d never talked to the janitor before, and I must admit, I always wanted to, even though he was old enough to be my grandad, basically. Whatever, the ice had been broken, and I planned to be friendlier.

Now, you’re probably wondering about me. I’m an ex-hockey jock (captain of the varsity team senior year), dark-haired and blue eyed, and a devoted gym nut. I also happen to be one hairy sonofabitch! I trim my pubes and shave my nuts, but I leave the hairy legs, ass, and chest. My last girlfriend said I had more chest hair than her dad! Heck, it seemed like I just woke up one day with a fur carpet. Had it since age 15.

So, anyway, I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and went back to my room. Who should walk by with a vacuum but Bud. “Hey, Derek, what’s up?” he said, giving me a friendly wave. Then, he backtracked and took a look around. “Not bad, bro. I dig your stereo system.”

“Yeah, belongs to my roommate, Kev.”

“That’s the ginger dude, right? Wears a letterman’s jacket?”

“Yeah. High school Football jock. Ripped, too…but he ain’t got nuthin’ on this stud.” Laughing, I whipped off my towel and hit a most muscular pose. “Grrrr. Hulk smash.”

Bud laughed. “Hey, I was thinkin’. What you doin’ this Friday night?”

“Nuthin’ on the docket. You got somethin’ goin’?”

“Thought maybe you’d like to down a few cold ones at my place. I’ll show you my gym, and you can get as rowdy as you want. Shit, we might even lift shirtless. You up for an adventure?”

It took me all of five seconds to decide. “That would be a blast! What time, bro?”

“How about 8? I’ll have the beer. Just bring yourself and expect to have fun.”

“Awesome!”

I quickly got directions and planned for Friday. Just three days away. Me and Bud the janitor, two wild and crazy guys!

Friday came, and I walked downtown to Bud’s apartment, located not far from

Gorham’s town square. It was a gorgeous early fall night, the kind I loved. Bud lived on the second floor of a somewhat rundown apartment house. Music was playing when I knocked on his door.

“Come in,” he yelled, and I did just that. Bud was doing crunches on the living room

floor. “You caught me at the tail end of my workout, dude. Good to see you.”

“Same here.” We shook hands, a solid man-to-man shake. Bud was wearing a wife-beater that clung to every muscle. He fixed me up with a brew, and we relaxed on the couch, sharin’ stories. I found out then that Bud wasn’t 50, but an unbelievable 62, a twice-divorced great grandad, and he’d been working at the university for twenty-eight years. I couldn’t believe it; the guy looked fuckin’ amazing.

After a while, I had a buzz goin’. “Show me your gym, tough guy,” I said, slurring my words.

“Glad to. Right this way, buddy. Let’s do curls. I’ll demonstrate some techniques.”

We went into his den, where he had a great set-up. After a few heavy dumbbell curls, Bud whipped off his tank-top. Whoa, that seriously knocked me on my heels. The guy was shredded. Cuts galore!

Of course, I had to show off a little myself, so I tore outta my own shirt and hoisted a dumbbell. Bud gave me another beer when I was done and told me to chug it.

“Feel like a bite to eat?” he asked, headin’ for the kitchen.

“Nope. I’m good.” He came back into the living room, and we plopped onto the couch. By beer #7, I was pretty much shitfaced. “You know what, big bro?” I drawled, and all my inhibitions were gone. “I’m glad I came over tonight. I feel like we’ve been friends for years, fuck the age difference.”

“Same here,” Bud said, downing his 8th brew. “From what I’ve seen, most of the younger generation’s a bunch of pussies afraid of their own shadows. It’s great to meet a kid with balls.”

“Thanks, but you ain’t seen my balls.”

He winked. “We talked in the bathroom, remember? I seen them teenage nuts and your trouser trout. Impressive, for a white boy.”

“That ain’t fair, bro. I haven’t seen yours. Must be an anaconda.”

“It’s in hidin’ right now. Say the magic word, and I’ll let him out to play.”

“What’s the magic word?” I wanted to know.

“Sooner or later, you’ll say it. Phew! Like a fuckin’ oven in here. I’m strippin’ to my boxers.”

“Hell, yeah, these jeans are way too confinin’.” I whipped off my pants, and we were both laughing like hyenas.

Bud whistled. “Boy, you are one hairy mutha. I’ve always shaved everything since my competition days, right down to the package.”

“Eh, chicks dig hairy guys, especially hairy guys with muscles. I do shave my bag and trim my pubes, though. And thank God I don’t have a hairy back. That’s just gross.”

“Yeah, it is.” He handed me another beer. “Drink up, bro. To hairy dudes everywhere.”

“Feel like wrestlin’, man?” I asked, guzzlin’ half the bottle. “One of my favorite drinking pastimes is arm rasslin’. Up for it?”

“Sure you wanna take on these pipes? They’re deadly.”

“I’ll take you on, motherfucker. Let’s go!”

So, we went into the kitchen, parked our drunken asses at the table, and wrestled. The bastard beat me every time!

“Aw, this shit’s too girly,” he said, standing up. “Let’s really wrestle. If you’ve got the sack.”

“Right here, pal.” I grabbed my junk. Throw down the fuckin’ gauntlet.”

I wasn’t about to let any physical challenge go by, so I stood in front of him, bumped his chest with mine and growled, “I dare ya.”

Instantly, Bud put me in a headlock and gave me a noogie. I escaped into his living room, and we both fell onto the couch. That was my cue. Clobberin’ time! I got him in a scissor lock, and he squirmed like a captured hog trying to maneuver around me. “Awright, awright,” he laughed, hooking his hands in the band of my boxers. “You asked for it.”

With one yank, Bud had my boxers off, and I was naked. One good turn deserved another, so I stuck my hand between his legs to flip him around…except somethin’ was in the way: two huge balls and what can only be described as a horse cock.

“Holy shit! Where’d these monsters come from?” I gave them a playful squeeze. “You holdin’ out on me, big daddy?”

“You keep doin’ that, and you’re gonna have trouble on your hands.”

“Hey, I like trouble.” To emphasize, I cupped his sack. “I could play tennis with these babies.”

“Uh-oh, now you’re doin’ it! You’re fuckin’ doin’ it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, boy.”

We went at it again, a tangle of arms and legs. Bud had me spread-eagled and then called for a time-out. “Phew! Enough, kid, enough. This is too much of a workout for me.”

I sat back and cackled. “What, old man, can’t keep up? Ha! I’m just gettin’ started.”

“This cum gun ain’t sumpthin’ you wanna fuck with. Fair warnin’.”

“And neither is mine. From where I’m sitting, I could blow a teenaged load right between your eyes.”

“Oh, yeah? I don’t think so.”

“Try me.”

Bud reached over and grabbed the head of my dick. “Say uncle, and maybe janitor Bud

will get you off with a hand job,” he demanded. “Otherwise, I just might have to…”

“You just might have to what? You got sumpthin’ in mind, big guy? I double-dog dare ya.”

“Careful…”

No way would I give in. I thrust my hips forward and gave him full access. “Do your worst, man. I triple-dog dare ya.”

“Okay, you asked for it.” Bud crept across the couch, slid two hands under my ass and pushed up again. Only this time, he began suckin’ my tool, long, slow, and deep.

I gasped but didn’t pull away. Bud went to town with obvious expertise. I’d enjoyed my share of blow jobs--usually clumsy fumblings in parked cars with girls who didn’t have a clue--but Bud was a sexual warrior, I could tell.

“Oh, dude, wait, wait. Gonna come, man. Shit.” I hoarsely whispered. “Don’t waste it.”

“What, a horny young kid like you? Aintcha good for at least three loads?”

“Yeah, but the first is always the best, bro. Don’t make me shoot too quick.”

Bud’s own cock was rock-hard and throbbing. Like the rest of his magnificent body, it

was a piece of work. Close to ten inches, complemented by plum-sized balls that told me he was built for more than mopping dormitory bathrooms.

And no pubes. The guy was shaved down, so I could see every cut.

“Sure as hell didn’t expect that,” I laughed.

“Too bad you stopped me.”

“We got all night. It’s only 9, and I don’t have class tomorrow till the PM. Let’s get it on, man.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Bud bounded off the couch and cracked open another beer. When he handed it to me, I licked the head of his dick, just to show I was into him.

“Mmm,” he said, jackin’ his third leg like a shotgun.

“Wanna eat my ass?” I bent over in front of him, cheeks spread. “Lick that hole, man. Drive your tongue right in there!”

“Thanks for the invite, don’t mind if I do.” He roughly pulled me backward, expertly tongue-fucking my crack. We went on like that for at least ten minutes, me moaning, him kissing and sucking my mancunt. Damn, he could tell what I had for dinner!

“Okay, show me your style,” he said, coming up for air and forcing me toward his crotch.

My time to shine. I grabbed his shaft and just went for it. How I managed to cram in all 9 inches without gagging, I still don’t know. We accommodated!

I readied for the inevitable flood. But Bud had a trick up his sleeve; he pushed my head into the pillow and got on top of me, all 250 pounds of rock hard naked muscle.

“You like that, Derek?”

“Yeah, bro. You’re the man.”

“And you’re my boy. C’mon, stud, gimme sugar.”

One shared breath, and we were making out with a passion I still can’t describe. It’s like this thing was pent-up, and I’d been waiting for a real man to unlock the door and set it free.

Bud’s after-shave and feel of his face against mine sent me to the moon and back. I was lit up like a fuckin’ Christmas tree.

“Dude,” I gasped, “there’s no way I’m goin’ home tonight. No fuckin’ way. I can’t.”

“Stay here. Got a king-sized bed, with lots of room for playin’.”

“Let’s do it.”

“First, I wanna check out the merchandise. Stand over there and flex. Show me some hunky college boy muscle.”

“Happy to oblige, dude, if you’ll do the same.” I wasn’t in his league but still looked pretty damned good. “Give me your best competition routine.”

“Okay, kid, I’ll go first to show you how it’s done.” Bud strutted to the center of the living room, like a Greek god ascending Olympus. Pow, pow, pow, pose after sexy pose. I couldn’t fuckin’ believe he was 62. Beefy shoulders, incredible arms, an etched-in-stone eight pack, stunning and very fuckable ass, great legs, and that outrageous package with a nine-inch fuck pole at full attention. It completely changed my concept of age.

Drunk with lust, I ran over, knelt in front of him and sucked dick, compelled to worship at the altar of such an unbelievably sexy man.

He bent down and fingered my ass. “Tight hole. I like it.”

“Thanks, man. You dig anal?”

“Fuck, yeah. Love gettin’ fucked. Hope you’ll do me the honor. And I want you to blow it, too. Been way too long.”

“I can do that, no sweat. Bareback?”

“For sure. You quick on the trigger?”

“Nah. How bout you?”

“In the old days, I’d erupt like a fuckin’ volcano and fuckin’ quick. Now that I’m an old fart, I can hold out longer, and the orgasms are outasite.”

“My kinda man. I’ll give you a ride you won’t forget.”

“Make me beg for mercy, and the only way to give me some is to squirt a manly load where the sun don’t shine.”

“You got it, big bro.”

“Now, slam a few poses out for me.”

I did the best I could, while Bud watched. “Mighty fine eye candy, yessuh!” he roared, applauding. For good measure, he crawled over on all fours and sucked me down to the root, just took it in like a boss. I had to make him stop or else I’d blow a load. But he didn’t want to stop, I could tell. He was way too horny.

A conundrum occurred to me, then…hanging out with a janitor was odd enough! Did I want to give in to my own feelings or go home? The guy was older than my dad, for Christ’s sake!

Fuck it. I wanted this. I knew the second he’d talked to me in the bathroom. I wanted him.

Bud ran his tongue along the ridges of my abs, up to my adam’s apple (giving me a rather impressive hickey) and along my jaw, nipping as he went. “I ain’t had anything for years, and I never fool around with nobody from the campus. It’s fuckin’ torture, resisting all those sexy dudes.”

“Why me, then?” I honestly wanted to know.

“The other day, when I saw you naked as the day you were born, I wanted to suck your dick right there. Fuck my job. And you’re so naughty, waggin’ your sausage in front of me. What a tease.”

“Yeah, I am at that.”

“Damn, boy, I’ve had wood all week! Couldn’t wait till tonight.”

“You didn’t wack it?”

“Nope. Hands off until now. We’ll beat off together.”

“Cool. You got a shower here, right? I wanna show you a game my uncle taught me called the Norwegian Way. Involves beer, being naked, and suckin’ cock. Interested?”

“You said the magic words. Grab a bottle and let’s go!”

Bud’s bathroom smelled like Lysol. He ran the shower until it was warm. I had a good look at him, and the image is forever burned onto my memory…rounded pecs, an eight pack, bulging biceps, cut-up legs, and an absolutely astounding cock and set of balls. 62 and horny as fuck.

And I was the one makin’ him hard. Damn!

“You’re beautiful, Bud, no shit. I love your body. We’re gonna do some wild shit together tonight.”

“Tell me about the game. I’m open for everything and anything.”

“Forget the game. Let’s just fuck.”

“Boy, you know the right words to say. Time we put this muscle show on the fuckin’ road.”

I joined him under the spray. Bud washed my chest, his hands moving over each pec, tweaking the nips, down to my abs and finally, he took hold of my dick.

What do you say in situations like that? Sometimes, words can’t even be found. I let him slowly jerk me off, then I turned around, pushed my ass up against his giant cock, and let him rub me out from behind.

An orgasm of epic proportions was building. I could feel Bud’s pulsating rod at my asshole, just beggin’ to come on in. Uh-uh. If anything, I was gonna fuck him first.

I rinsed myself off. “Hey, man, ready to play?”

“Just look at my fuckin’ dipstick, buddy, and there’s your answer. No Viagra, either.”

“Fuck Viagra. What I’m proposin’ will put some ammo in your pistol naturally. Watch.”

I shut off the water and poured beer over Bud’s heaving chest. The amber liquid ran in rivulets down his pecs, chiseled abs, and to his cock, where I was waiting to drink as much as I could. One touch of my velvety tongue, and Bud gasped, falling against the side wall and sliding to the shower floor.

Without a word, I worked his dick, holding his balls with my left hand and fingering his asshole with my right. We were on the shower floor, drenched in beer. Well, wouldn’t you know it? That sexy prick knew a few moves! He pushed his ass up against me, and my cock slipped in, smooth as silk.

“Beat you to the fuckin’ punch,” he chuckled, and I’ll never forget how warm his asshole felt. “Now fuck me good.”

“Awright, man. You got it.”

Lifting up one of his legs, I banged him from the side, then doggy style, pushing as far as

I could go. Bud’s dick was in need of attention, so I reached down and gave it a few strokes.

“Hold on for the ride of your life,” I grunted, “cause I’m gonna bust a nut.”

“Go for it. Cum inside me.”

“Yeah, baby, fuckin’ yeah!” My balls slapped against his ass. “Aaahhhhhh….Christ! I’m gonna come, bro…gonna blow it, big time. Yeah, yeah. Fuck’n A! Holy shiiiiiiTTTT! Aaarrghhh!”

Building, building, building, then that wonderful half-second period before the money shot. Kapow! Felt like I was shootin’ enough to fill a bucket, just spasm after mind-blowing spasm. It was electric!

“Yeah! Yeah, yeah,” I hissed. “C’mon, bro! Fuck, yeah! Fuck, yeah! All the fuckin’ way. Balls deep! Yeahhhhh, baby!”

One last thrust, and I’d dumped a massive load as far back as it could go. Greased his guts, no mercy.

Panting, exhausted, fully spent, and trying to catch my breath, I was done…but still so fuckin’ horny. I pulled out slow, to give us both an extra jolt, and stuck my finger up his asshole again. Bud didn’t say anything; he just lay there drippin’ cum, half passed about from the fuck I’d just delivered, first class.

“Move up a little, man,” I ordered, getting him to his knees. “Now, bend over so I can eat you out.”

“Yes, sir.”

I had full view of his asshole, still wet with my cum. Fuckin’ delicious. Bud was so into it, moaning and groaning, his head thrashing back and forth.

“Ahhh, fuck, boy, gulp that salty jizz!” Bud commanded. “Don’t tease me, just please me…or else I just might haveta do this!”

Bud grabbed me by the hair, his cock bobbing in front of my awestruck face. “Say hello to my little friend.”

“A work of art, man. Belongs in a fuckin’ stud museum.”

“It’s yours, kiddo. All yours. Make me cum like a 15 year old.”

I was an eager recruit. Bud reached back, jerking me off again. This was beyond anything I’d ever experienced. Even though I’d already shot my wad, his hand was getting me so fuckin’ horny, only a few seconds before I’d blow again. Put up or shup up time for both of us.

“That feels real nice,” he said. “Do me right, muscleboy. Aaaah, yeah. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Holy shiiit. I’m almost there. Oh, God. Holy fuck. I’m almost there, stud…almost fuckin’ there. Use your fuckin’ tongue like a real man should. Tongue my piss-hole. Get ready, get ready…cause I’m gonna fuckin’ cummmm! Aaaaahhhh! FUCKKKKK!!!”

Just as my own cock spurted across my abs, Bud pushed his thick dick down my

fuckin’ gullet and came. And I mean he fuckin’ came, what felt like a torrent of man juice. The expression on his face was of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. I’d gotten him off in a major way.

No doubt about it, Bud and I were muscle warriors, totally into one another. For all the fucking we’d end up doing through my four years of college (and it was a lot), I had the satisfaction of knowing I was the best ass he ever plowed, and the best cock he ever sucked.

Sighing, Bud tousled my wet hair. We kissed, the mellow taste of his spunk on our tongues. Even after downing 8 beers, there was no stoppin’ us. That’s what I call staying power!

“Man, I can’t fuckin’ believe it,” I said, when we were drying off. You’re 62, I’m 18, and we just fucked like there’s no tomorrow. I gotta hand it to you, bro, you are awesome.”

“Same here. I didn’t know kids your age were so experienced.”

“I’m not that experienced. Just done it a handful of times and never as rough and as tonight. But I do love hardcore muscle, and you’re a fuckin’ powerhouse. Just the way you carry yourself, man. So sexy. Black don’t crack, that’s for sure.”

“Means a lot comin’ from a ripped-up white boy like you. Gimme some sugar, and then we’ll hit the sack.”

I was all for it. He picked me up over his shoulder and playfully slapped my ass. Laughin’ like two idiots, we fell on the bed and made magic--squealin’ and moanin’ and doin’ things I’d only fantasized about or seen in porn. I’d loosened myself up enough to ride his full nine inches. He sure knew the power of a slow fuck, that horny bastard.

When Bud blew a load, I could feel it hitting my prostate. Hella horny, I leaned forward, twisted his tits, and we made out like long-time lovers. Fuckin’ unreal.

By 2:30, we’d fallen asleep. The next morning, I woke in his arms. My first class was at 1, but Bud had to get to work earlier, since his shift started at 11. We took a shower together, made out some more, beat each other off for good measure, and made scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast.

He drove me to the dorm, parking by the back stairway entrance. As soon as we were inside the empty alcove, I felt Bud’s hand massaging my crotch. “I’m gonna be hard all day, thinkin’ about you,” he said, voice low.

“Schedule’s always open for a hot fuck with my buddy. Same time, same apartment?”

“Yep. Same shower and same bed.”

“Ok if I bring Kevin?”

“He into man muscle?”

“Swallowed my load our first night as roomies. Pretty buff. Good kisser, too. And he takes it from behind.”

“Sure, bring him along. We’ll have ourselves a little orgy, with you in the middle. A sexy sandwich, like an Oreo cookie.”

“Wait, maybe I shouldn’t. You might like him more than me.”

“Don’t worry, stud. You’re fuckin’ mine. Don’t be thinkin’ about hookin’ up with anyone but me, long-term. We’re in this for the duration.”

“Damned straight. Bud is stamped on my ballsack.”

“It fuckin’ better be! Next time we’re alone, I wanna toss in a little spice.”

“Like what?”

“Pissing, for one. Ever try that?”

“No. I’d like to. But how do ya piss with a hard-on?”

“Takes concentration and control, but you can do it. I wanna drink your piss, just guzzle it from the source. All natural.”

“And I’ll return the favor. What else you got in mind, man?”

“Fistin’s fun. Me and a few of my Bodybuilding buddies used to fist in the locker room. I could take anyone up to their forearm.”

“Wow, does it hurt?”

“Naw, not if you’re careful. The orgasms are outasite. You need dexterity to suck cock and fist at the same time, but somethin’ tells me you’re up for it. Whadaya say?”

“Always, man, fuckin’ always. I’ll fist your ass. I don’t know if I wanna have it done to me, though. Maybe someday and only from you.”

“You got it. We’ll do some cosplay stuff, too. Jocks and cock rings. I’ll be the motorcycle leatherman, and you’ll be the cop with a nightstick in his shorts. Muscle against muscle, lubed by hot boy and man cum.”

“Dude, I’m pretty much open to anything. Sounds like fun. We’ll fuck ourselves into a muscle coma!”

“Yeah, baby. I’ll eat you out in front of your roommate and really stir the pot. He’ll reach maximum stiffness watchin’ you and me do our thing.”

“I rimmed him like a madman the first week of school. He shot his load, so I must’ve been doin’ sumpthin’ right.”

“You know your stuff, kid. Stick with me, and you’ll learn even more.”

We swapped spit and then went off to our prospective days.

That night, Kevin and I went to Bud’s, had a rockin’ good time (Bud made him beg for an ass-plowing), and whenever he could get away from his clingy girlfriend, we’d have a threesome. Mostly, it was just the two of us, Bud and me, balls out and ready to rock. Bud enjoyed a second adolescence, I dumped cum and piss on him and in him, we fisted, and all of us honed our sexual skills taught by a master.

Moral to my story: age is only a number. If it happens to be 62, consider yourself one lucky SOB!