Brunch Mischief

The heat had come back; it was Veterans Day in mid-November and it was over 87° by the time we were headed out for brunch. Kent didn’t put on the tank top he chose after showering; he was carrying it. I knew he’d put it on when we got there; he’s shirtless whenever it’s warm enough. I wouldn’t be so bold with what I called my “racing stripes” down my chest; three open-heart surgeries in 2020 saved my life but left me branded for all to see.

I saw Kent was going commando under his walking shorts; his huge cock swayed and was obvious. I had all sorts of dirty thoughts of tantalizing him and making his big bull cock go hard for anyone to see in public; and I followed his example free-balling in my ultra lightweight linerless shorts I’d chosen. We knew the guys we were meeting for breakfast would be very casual and the breakfast place we were going to was completely casual.

Kent arose from lacing up his sneakers on the bench opposite me in our closet and came over in front of me and rubbed my exposed shoulders. The tank I’d chosen was more of a muscle cut and apparently caused the reaction I’d hoped.

“You’ve really built-up,” he praised. “You make me want to spend all my time fucking you and nothing else.”

My hand had gone up his leg insidehis shorts when he stepped in front of me; I didn’t have to reach far to take hold of his big knob and was rubbing

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him hard and rubbing my cheek against his shaft.

“You just fucked me to where you almost had to help me get on my feet after and I yelped when you fingered me in the shower.” His enormous rod was about three-quarters hard again in my hand and against my cheek; my palm was wet with his pre … maybe more accurately a mixture of pre and post. My own hard-on was out the leg of my loose shorts as I sat in front of him. “That wasn’t a ‘no’ by the way.”

Kent lifted me by my armpits and then used both his hands on my butt-cheeks to pull me close after I was standing. He ground into me and he pulled me into him and let his fingertips tease my sore hole through the thin nylon of my shorts. He kissed me deep and very long until I was almost breathless in a literal sense when he pulled back from my lips but not our grinding crotches.

“Andrew and Steve are always late,” he said in a voice that could have been a hypnotist’s.

“I fucking want you to fuck me!” I panted. I was full-on stroking him inside the tight leg of his shorts; I hadn’t let go. And the pre he had flowing helped me slick the oh-my-god length of him; though his shorts were tight and challenged the back of my hand and wrist.

Kent let go of one of my butt-cheeks and I moaned mournfully even though he’d done a real number on my hole this morning and I no-shit was still in pain. “No stud,” that low metronomic voice droned. “This time you fuck me.”

While he’d said it he’d gotten his hand on my hard-on and wasn’t letting go. Kent pushed my shorts down and pulled my tank top up; he regained his grip on my hard-on. I unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts and pushed them down. He stepped out with his shoes still on and I did the same.

He reached over to a shelf where we put things we’ve taken out of our pockets and grabbed a quarter-ounce tub of Blistex and passed it to me. He bent toward the shelves and planted his feet wide.

I know from experience that the stuff we coat our lips with has enough of something in it to sting inside my chute. “This is great lube but it stings,” I told him thoughtfully. “Let me … “

He tightened the grip he had on my throbbing dick and snapped in a growl, “Do I sass you when you tell me you want me to fuck you?”

I almost guffawed at “sass“ but kept it together. The grip on my cock helped me remain on track. “Oh it’s like that huh?” I laughed.

I uncapped the lip balm and dug out a hunking glob and rubbed it around my husband’s tight hole. Kent pushed back and opened himself. He engulfed my finger and fucked himself on it. “Just fuck me Al; I want you inside me.”

I pulled my one finger out of him and did my best to coat my knob with the slick balm as he pulled me toward his waiting hole. I felt the cool sting; it was minor but I felt it as I made contact with his point of resistance. Kent pushed back and with a loud grunt finally opened himself enough. And just like that he slid back so that his bubble butt-cheeks were grinding into my groin.

“Unnnnngggggggghhhhhhhhaarrggghhhhmmmmmsssssssssss!” His long loud groan changed to a hiss that the neighbors might have heard. But he began fucking himself on my hard-on and his hiss became a moan. He was as determined as he’d proclaimed.

I was moaning myself at the almost unbearable tightness of him and from the kiln-like heat inside him. Our balls were swinging into each other and freely because I was pounding into him hard; it was obviously what he wanted. And we were both on the clock!

“God yes! You feel so fucking good inside me Al. Fucking pound me. Own your husband’s hole. It’s yours fucker!”

“You’re so fucking HOT!” I moaned and did my best to follow his orders even though the ache in my swinging balls from the impacts with his was at a pain point. I’m no pussy when it comes to ball-play; but we seem to hang evenly or something so that doggie is like that desk toy where the metal balls knock into each other.

Kent broadened his shoulders by bringing up his arms into a flex; I almost lost it. He IS hot; but I meant the searing heat of his channel around my pumping dick not his amazing physique. I struggled to maintain my breather; fucking this god of a man was not in danger of stopping.

“I felt you throb inside me when I did that. Fucking HOT!” he yelled and flexed again. “Fuck yes!”

I rubbed my hands all over his bulging triceps and biceps and levatators and traps and down his delts and lats; all of them tensed with his flexing but still rolling as he fucked back into my forward thrusts. I could have cum that way alone much less from the tight hot stroking of his chute around my hard-on if it hadn’t been for the ball-slapping. I knew it was also because he’d been extra rough earlier; I’d fucking loved it but it always left my balls in a low ache and just a bit sensitive until they recovered. The swinging smacking was just reminding me … of the wrong thing.

“God yeah just fuck me. Goddamn I love you inside me. Fuck yeah Al. Fuck me!”

I concentrated on the look and feel of my amazing husband. My hands roaming his amazing body and my cock reaching the depths of him inside. I began cork-screwing up into him and then adjusted myself enough to hit the spot; I knew right where it was as he did mine. I felt my fat knob graze his p-point and felt the gratifying jolt of his body and shaper catch in his moans as I knocked and rubbed that spot. It had the added benefit of relieving some of the testicular impact.

“Oh fuck! Oh yeah Al right there. Harder! Oh fuck yeah!”

I fucked harder and faster; so did he increase his thrust-matching pushes back onto me. I felt sweat on my neck and down my back and I saw his back glistening. It made his broad v even more tantalizing even though he’d abandoned the flex when I began prostate-pummeling him.

Kent’s tight channel was gripping me tighter and spasming every time I knocked that gland. It was doing the job to get me to the edge. “I’m gonna fill you so full of my seed!” I groaned.

“Oh fucking YES fucking DO IT! I want it!” Kent yelled. “OH FUCK I’M … DO IT NOWWWWWWWWW!” He yelled louder.

“Fuck I’m … “ I got out before my climax splattered through me and I was deep-shoved into his tensed body. We both began shuddering and I felt his chute clamped around me as my first blast rocketed into him.

I felt his body spasm and jerk rhythmically and his cries. “Unnnnng, unnnng, unnnnng,” didn’t match mine in cadence but matched the intensity of my release into him. I heard his seed splatting against the wall or shelves or something and didn’t give a shit as I pumped-out what felt like a bigger load than what he’d fucked out of me earlier.

My stud of a husband turned his sweaty head back and I leaned over him to meet his lips. It caused me to push into him more and he groaned lasciviously into my lips and tongue.

“Why don’t you fuck me more often?” he moaned as I slumped over his trembling body.

My dick was softening but still inside him and felt amazing in the gooey hot wetness. I bit the back of his neck and laughed. “Honestly because I love taking your humongous cock. It gives me major bragging rights.” That and it was nirvana for me to be wanted by my hunk of a younger husband; to feel him bring me to pleasure points I never knew existed and to have this stud right there at those same points of ecstasy with me.

“I’m not the first one to tell you you’ve got a club hanging between your legs too Al!” He squeezed his channel around my nearly-soft dick and made me moan.

I wanted to remind him he’s a bull compared to me; but we were late even if we speed-dressed and ran out reeking of sex which we weren’t going to do. Instead I kissed his sweaty neck behind his ear and said, “Let’s get cleaned-up. We’re going to be very late.”

“I have a better idea,” Kent said. “Hey Siri send a text to Steve and Andrew.”

I knew what he was going to do and even though it gave me butterflies that my husband would want to stay sexed-up with me at home I was fucking starving after our sexual antics this morning.

“Don’t,” I told him in the middle of him telling Siri we wouldn’t make it.

He cancelled without argument and then replaced the text with one that we’d be running about twenty minutes late. I pulled out of him as Siri was getting the final SEND command and he yelped when my knob popped out of him. “DAMN IT FUCK!” He got Siri straightened out and sent the text; I knew it was the lip balm and his ring was smarting.

“Told ya!”

Kent pulled me into a rough kiss. Between his intensity and the stench of our sex I was swooning. Again. “Worth it,” he said and then winced when he pulled away and took a few steps. “Thanks for the memories!” he said with a wink and walked more carefully back into the bathroom and to the wet room.

We washed each other and shared more kisses; I was regretting stopping him from cancelling on the Van Hough-Tylers. We redressed in the same clothes he mercifully hadn’t sprayed with cum where we threw them; but there was only one bench for us to get our shoes on because the leather on the other was splattered. Kent went to get a “cum rag” from beside the bed to wipe up and I decided on flip-flops anyway. I completed my casual ensemble with a purple ball-cap from Palm Beach with yellow lettering to match my v-necked t-shirt; it also has a Buddy Bate button clipped to it. You never know when that will be helpful.

As we were telling a disappointed Sasha that we would be back soon and to be a good boy we both got texts.

“Running about a half-hour late.”

We laughed.

“Damn it I would have had time to suck your cock clean and to lick the sweat off you,” Kent joked.

My spent cock reacted in my shorts. “More talk like that and I won’t be able to get out of the car!”

Kent reached across the console and found my dick up my shorts leg and started rubbing me; he also shot me an evil grin. “In olden days it was common for men of wealth to display their riches. Your big dick is definitely worth displaying.”

My husband’s praise as always made me flush with pride. “Dude if that’s the standard of behavior then that bull cock of yours should be out all the damn time!”

We laughed and drove on. A few intersections later I made him stop before I was hard and dripping again. I looked over and he was hard in his shorts from rubbing me; that didn’t help me concentrating on getting my arousal under control. I looked away and thought of baseball; I walked into the restaurant behind Kent to hide my semi swinging in my shorts commando.

After being seated for 10 minutes Steve Van Hough texted again.

“We’re about 20 minutes away.”

Of course they were. Tyler (he wasn’t Madonna but I’m pretty certain he only used his surname at their wedding) would be apologetic but insincere; he makes no effort to hold Steve accountable. That was about as far as their drive to our breakfast spot, which meant they were just leaving at best. We both decided to laugh instead of being annoyed; I’d ordered a bowl of tater tots to tide me over so I could wait.

I went to the restroom and was standing there with my shorts waistband pulled under my balls draining the gallon or so of water I’d hydrated with after fucks one and two earlier. Another guy came in and took the urinal next to me; not the one two away from me or one of the stalls but next to me. I tensed-up for a moment wondering what was coming if anything; and then he spoke.

“I figured since you were showing it off hanging out of your shorts at the table when I saw you head in here I’d come and get a better look. And the Buddy Bate button too. Even nicer now that I get a full look!”

I looked over at his own “nice” one he had out hanging over his own shorts waistband but not pissing; then I looked at his face. He was the twenty-something guy with the very broad shoulders, very thin waist, and very muscular thighs and calves who’d been sitting sideways at the end of a table for four that had six people directly opposite us. With the absence of our breakfast companions across from us he had a clear view under the table to where I hadn’t realized I was “hanging out.” I swear I hadn’t even though I was man-spreading wide to give my sore balls some recovery room.

I’d noticed him with a nice bulge in his shorts slouching in his chair with his eyes and thumbs glued to his phone. His hair was wet and wavy, blond, and combined with the swim team pullover he was wearing I surmised he was recently out of the pool. Very broad shoulders and very small waist had given me a moment’s fantasy of what the epitome of a “swimmer’s build” was supposed to look like on a young buck. And his slouch accompanied a wider man-spread than mine.

“Uh, thanks?” I stammered. “That’s my husband out there by the way.”

Swimmer smirked. “He’s fucking hot too. Is he as hung as you?”

I just laughed. “You’re not shy are you?”

He reached over after a quick glance toward the door and around the men’s room and took hold of my dick which was still hanging out even though I’d finished pissing. “I am actually pretty shy,” he said with bedroom eyes and a lower voice. “I also know what I like,” he said turning and taking a step closer and putting his other hand on my balls.

“Uh, I went two heavy rounds with my husband just a while ago; and I’m old enough to be your father. If you’re looking for a cottaging quickie I’ll send him in; he’s still young enough for another round. Hell he’s still loaded like a young buck like you”

He was stroking me and I was getting hard. He cracked a wicked grin and gave my turgid dick a squeeze. “Evidence here to the contrary. But I’m good with you texting him and having him join too.” He pulled me gently and took a step. When I went with it we dashed clumsily into a stall; the stall door crashing closed was too damn loud.

He was on his knees in a second and inhaled me. I slammed my arms out to the stall walls and held on while this young swimmer sucked me to rock-hard and kept going.

He was rubbing my balls in a near tickling way so I reached down and clenched my hand around his and pulled on them; oh man did that hurt so good. I was still sensitive from Kent’s rough play and from my balls slapping wildly during round two; but I moaned like a bitch when he picked it up and tugged and rubbed them while he sucked.

I reassumed my grip on the stall walls and let him have at it and swing my groin into his face. His rumbling groans electrified my head and shaft. His tongue and lips were as expert at the task as was his throat. And I was loving every minute of it. Only regret was my husband wasn’t here to enjoy it too.

And then I thought of it and awkwardly got to my shorts which were only midway down my thighs and got out my phone. The cocksucker looked up eagerly still working my knob and balls. I realized he expected me to take his photo or video him. Who was I to disappoint?

I tapped the camera icon and pointed the phone and got a great shot of him swallowing my cock again then went to video. I texted the still to Kent and thumbed a quick, “Join?” and sent.

About then the swimmer sucked his finger, found my sore hole, and began teasing it and applying pressure. It hurt; I won’t lie. Kent had ripped on my hole this morning to where sparks and jolts ripped through me like only he can cause with that humongous bull dick of his. But this young cocksucker worked his finger inside me with little additional discomfort and then found my spot and rubbed me into overdrive.

We went at it like that for a bit. I was aware of nothing but his mouth, finger, my balls, hole, and cock. The pain increased as I got more and more worked-up; after the morning another orgasm would be painful … exquisitely so in the extra effort it would take.

“Oh man! Oh f-mmmmmm!” I babbled and babbled and he groaned and moaned and seemed to growl as he gobbled, slurped, swallowed, and finger-fucked me.

He knew exactly what he was doing and in less than six or eight minutes more I was bucking mercilessly into his mouth with my hands clamped on his head.

“I’m close!”

That’s the universal offer: if you don’t want me to shoot in your mouth bail now. And the best universal answer came from him. He clutched my butt with what he could of his hand he was using the finger to prostate-bang me, sucked me harder, tugged on my nuts, and loudly groaned with his desire.

I came hard and it hurt as i knew it would; my nuts were already taxed and in pain anyway.

“Mmmmmmm,” he moaned when my first blast went off. Then, “MMMMMM,” at another harder blast. He matched every pump with a groan of appreciation and a strong suck; only a few more but he appreciated every one.

I was sensitive but he had taken a death grip on my butt-cheeks and was still sucking my cock. I could tell he was jacking hard as he was groaning. I was trying to get my sensitized cock away from him before I squealed when finally he slumped and groaned and his body jerked as he cried. I felt hot cum splash on my ankles and feet. All I could think of was

HOT!

What a waste of a big boy-load when i could have scarfed it.

What a waste that Kent hadn’t joined.

Then I was suddenly aware that someone was looking over the next stall; Kent, with his phone pointed at us and a huge grin on his face. I had long lost the video frame in the heat of the face-fucking; I was glad Lent got some of it. The swimmer looked up as he was wiping his flushed face with the back of his hand and grinned at Kent.

“I want a copy of that.”

Kent replied. “Number?”

The swimmer told Kent his number as he stood and looked directly at me. “HOT!” he told me. And, “Thanks. Oh and sorry for the mess on your legs and feet; I was pretty into it.”

I could feel his jizz running down my lover legs. I was pretty messy.

“Here.” The cocksucker said and pulled his shorts off and used them to wipe me off despite my protests. “No worries. My shorts were wet already when Ifollowed you in from looking at this big cock hanging out teasing me.” He gave it a lick and then he gave it a suck and I felt his tongue cleaning my slit. “There you should be good to go.”

I pulled my shorts up and we all began filing out of the stalls. Right then the door opened; it was obvious the swimmer and I were leaving a stall together. It was Steve; and his shit-eating grin said he knew at least some of the story.

“Well, well, well!” he said with mock indignation.

“Yeah, yeah, isn’t this the way we met you at the gym two years ago?” Kent asked.

Steve blushed and mumbled something and proceeded to the urinal and I went to the sink as the cocksucker went to leave. “HEY! BOY!” Kent startled the swimmer and Steve and me. “Wash your hands!” Kent added laughing.

The very handsome young swimmer blushed beyond his flushed face and did as he was told. Standing next to me at the sinks I told him as I rinsed my flip-flops, “He’s always bossy like that.”

The swimmer said, “Hot!”

When he turned to the paper towels he looked at Kent and asked, “Would it be cool if I texted if I … ?” He didn’t finish.

Kent grabbed his own ample bulge plumped from enjoying our show and said, “If you think you can handle it!” and turned and opened the men’s room door so the three of us could leave Steve to his piss.

Needless to say, conversation with Steve and Tyler was animated. I moderated it until the swimmer’s party of six left so not to embarrass him. It looked like one of the two girls in their party was his girlfriend.

And when the bill came Ty’s and my meals were comped because we are both veterans. An added bonus.