A Marine Finds A Bargain At The Grocery Store

The next post from me I'd intended to be about a recent escapade with a hot gym bitch who shamelessly came onto us in the locker room. But then a few nights ago we were having dinner with some friends - some equally raunchy friends! - and one of them told us of a young, married stud he'd "bagged". Of course, one thing led to another, and there I was, regaling them about a young, muscular, hairy, married stud I used to fuck regularly until I met my husband. So, I figured I'd advance this to the head of the queue and write it up. 

A Horny Married Man Thought He Was At The Supermarket And Found Out He Was at BIG Lots!

It was HOT . . . as DC area can be in the middle of summer. And the summer of ’08 was a scorcher. Having spent too much time in Fuckghanistan and Fuckraq, I was no stranger to high heat. But in the Mid-Atlantic coast, 98° with about the same humidity stat makes it feel lethal. The only good thing about it – plenty of shirtless eye candy in as skimpy shorts as the guys were comfortable wearing.

I’d been back at the Pentagon for four months, and I’d just bought an old beater to have a car. The A/C had long since stopped working and really wasn’t worth fixing, even if I hadn’t been the cheapskate I was. (Okay, still AM.) So, when I got to the supermarket in the late morning that Saturday, having driven shirtless so I could put my tshirt on the back of the searing vinyl seat, I was too hot to consider putting it on until I got inside the store. And then, when I was inside, the A/C felt so good that I just tucked my shirt in the waistband of the PT shorts I was wearing, thinking I’d put it on later, and I just headed on in to the aisles.

It was my first time living off base in quite a while, and I was still adjusting to the many more food options than we had at the BX. Even the unpopular 2% sales tax on food in Virginia didn’t deter me from finding healthier food at the local supermarket in lieu of the BX. I spent a good amount of time reading labels. I’ve always done my best to eat as well as the available fare afforded, and I was getting better at selecting well priced but healthy choices.

And there, in the canned goods aisle as I looked for the best buy on kidney beans with the least sodium, was when the HOT young dad, whom I’d crossed carts with several times already, approached me. This time his wife and two very young children weren’t anywhere to be seen.

“Scuse me, but I couldn’t help noticing that you look a little cold. I’ve got an extra tshirt,” he says, pulling at the hem of the outer of two tshirts well fitted to his muscular torso.

I took my time answering, enjoying the view. Late 20’s, very dark, very hairy based on his exposed arms and legs and a thicket of dense, curly black hair at his neck when he pulled on the shirt. Tall, though not as tall as I, very muscular, veiny arms and neck, clean shaven but with a heavy five o’clock shadow even though it was barely nine in the morning, bright brown eyes . . . and nicely bulging shorts below his narrow waist. I knew his ass was even more appealing, based on prior passes and discreet . . . recon.

I looked him up and down again, one last pass to make certain he knew I was giving him the scrutiny his fine form deserved. He grinned and held my gaze when it returned to his. “It may look like I’m cold, but the A/C feels damn good,” I told him, and I turned slightly and bumped the thirt hanging from my waistband. “Thanks anyway – I appreciate that offer.”

He doesn’t move on, doesn’t say anything. His grin didn’t fade, nor did the intensity of his eye contact. I didn’t make any effort to move or divert my gaze either, didn’t prompt him. And it seemed like more minutes than it was . . . until it got boring – I had baseball at 10:30 anyway. What idiot had scheduled it just when the day was heating up to boiling from simmer, I didn’t know, but the thought again made me irritable. “Look, obviously I can’t fuck you here in the aisle, or with your wife right around here somewhere, so what’s your plan? As much as I’d enjoy getting you out of your own shirt, I don’t see the logistics working.”

His grin was reinforced, and he held out his phone. “But if you gave me your number, I could let you know when I wasn’t . . . encumbered.” Then he added after a beat, “You won’t be sorry, I promise.”

I gave him a long look up and down again, and he puffed out his chest a little to make certain I noticed . . . and adjusted himself brazenly, clearly becoming aroused. I very nearly told him to turn around so I could reappraise his ass, which was what interested me most after his dicksucking lips, but I thought maybe I’d gone far enough for this public encounter in a family space.

I looked down at his phone and up at him again, smirking. What I was going to PUT IN for him was NOT my number – unless it was 9 ½ x 8, and that wouldn’t involve his phone. He put in my number as I recited it, having made no move to take the phone from him. He read it back to me before he returned his phone to his pocket. “I WILL call you,” he said with conviction. I gave him points for not saying he’d text – I was still resisting that “trend” back then. I clarified that it was my home phone, as my cel phone was “for work”, and told him no worries about any message – I was the only person who’d pickup messages.

I gave my fat cock a squeeze and adjusted myself then without saying anything. He moaned just enough for me to hear it, and I chuckled, causing him to return his eyes to mine. “I should get back to my family,” he said, but he still didn’t move . . . and his shorts were bulging all the more.

“Have a great weekend,” I told him in a low rasp, holding my hand out.

He looked down at my hand like he was surprised, then back at me as he took it. His grip was exceptionally firm, big strong hands, well trained – his eye contact never wavered. “You, too,” he returned, with a bit of reluctance sounding in it.

For a moment we stood there like that, neither of us releasing or moving. Then, with more obvious reluctance, he released his grip, and I let him go as well. He turned and walked off. An athlete’s walk, that fine bubble butt in beautiful motion in his shorts.

I quickly ran through the items I intended to purchase in the store to determine if, instead of taking groceries home afterward, before the baseball game, I could call a fuckbud and take care of the . . . need I suddenly had. Since the conclusion was either a later trip to the store for the perishables or foregoing the pregame quickie, I decided to be efficient at my nuts’ expense . . . and they protested violently all through the game later that morning. I still played well, thankfully for my team.

Shortly after 1440, my phone rang. I’d only just gotten in my apartment and was supplementing the postgame refreshment from a cooler thoughtfully provided by one of the guys’ “friends” – he hadn’t fessed up that he was gay OR that the very devoted friend who watched our games when he played was his boyfriend. I was gulping down cold tap water from a pitcher I kept filled in the fridge and had to swallow quickly.

“Colonel Cate,” I answered officiously, as calls were usually related to my work. Being a good son, I called my mom often – my brothers, too, for that matter, and they knew I was likely to be out on duty at any time.

“It’s Mark, from Safeway,” the newly familiar deep voice announced. “I told you I’d call.”

“And you did,” I replied, my brain assessing that it was unlikely he was calling because he was free of his family on a Saturday afternoon and immediately thinking I would have to shut down any thoughts he may have of a chatty relationship. Of a relationship of any sort other than me fucking him and then us going back to our regularly scheduled lives.

“Yeah, because I have a couple of hours to kill and thought maybe you’d like to fuck me.”

Points for directness. And I asked no questions. “Guess it has to be my apartment?” I speculated aloud, though rarely having a trick there.

“Unless you’d rather come here. I have a converted garage out back that is my VERY PRIVATE workspace and would be plenty comfortable. The access is directly off the alley, so pretty private.”

“I just finished a baseball game and am one big sweatball. I’m off of Quincy near Wilson, and I’ll shower up and head over. What’s the address there, and I’ll tell you how long I’ll be,” I said efficiently.

“OR,” he replied, and proved to me I was wrong in my supposition yet again that day, “You can come directly here,” and he gave me his address and rough coordinates. VERY nice area. “I have a great shower in my workspace. BUT . . . I’d much prefer you shower AFTERWARD, so I can enjoy your taste and smell. I’m guessing it’s even better than when we were in the store this morning.”

Another few points earned for being a real man and enjoying a man’s sweat. “Plan!” I agreed. Then I went through the usual preambles. I’m clean, and I don’t use condoms was met with his declaration that he was clean, had been monogamous for over two years and if he wanted to be fucked by latex he’d use a dildo. My cock is the size of the business end of a baseball bat, and once we start, there’s no pussying out was met with if that was the way he’d go, it would be with a smile on his face. I laughed despite the gravity of my intention to not have even the slightest misunderstanding. And I don’t do relationships, my idea of a relationship is I fuck you a second time was met with he had the relationship he was looking for, just not the man and cock to fuck him. We hung up, and I was driving his way in less than a minute.

I found the place easy enough and was impressed . . . both with the “converted garage”, as there was a big, new garage adjacent, taking up the remainder of the alley front of the rear of his lot, and with the size of the lot and house visible beyond. He definitely wasn’t blue collar – but I hoped he fucked like he was, not some bougie office dweller. He certainly hadn’t looked like it.

He opened the door after one rap of my knuckles, causing my arm to go in as the door swung back. Points for eagerness. Mark was wearing absolutely nothing, standing behind the door enough so that if anyone had been passing in the alley, they wouldn’t have seen but his shoulder and face. And he was a welcoming sight. “Just did a quick cleanup. Hope you don’t mind I didn’t shower the day off me,” was my welcome.

I strode into the “workspace”, took a snapshot of the nicely decorated and neat surrounds then refocused my attention on him. I slammed the door shut after I’d stepped in, and I roughly pushed him back against it, crowding up into him. He didn’t flinch . . . and he didn’t struggle, but he did remain taut, not submitting. Then he leaned his head forward and inhaled deeply. I must have reeked – it was a ROUGH game, a slugfest between our two teams, and I did a ton of running out in that blazing heat. My tshirt I’d put on when I got out of the car was literally soaked with sweat from what was on me still from the game and from the short drives in my oven of a car. And as he exclaimed, “Fuckn GOOD,” again huffing loudly, I took note that he smelled very natural, too. Not rank like me, but not a hint of cologne or deodorant or girly smelling soap.

Working my hands to his shoulders I pushed him down, still crowding him, so his face rubbed down my sweat-soaked shirt. As he awkwardly lowered, getting his knees wide around mine, he rubbed his face in my shirt and when he got to the hem worked his face up in so that he was in contact with the slick, furry pelt of my abs and the soaked waistband of my PT shorts. His moans were louder, and when I adjusted my footing to widen my stance even more, my knee rubbed his hard cock as he awkwardly resituated. It felt like wetness there already . . . not unexpected.

“Suck it!” I commanded.

The bitch eagerly pulled down my PT shorts and jockstrap, moaning in delight as my cock sprung free, about half hard by then. “Hell yes!” he growled appreciatively, then swallowed about six inches of me, enough to have to shove himself onto me to get my massive head in his throat. “MMMMRRRGGGRRRMMMMMM,” he growled as his tongue worked my shaft, and his inhalations from his nose buried in my sopping bush were loud and deep.

He tentatively let his hands roam up and down my hairy, muscular legs. It was difficult to tell if his moans were accentuated because I was growing still in his mouth and throat or because he liked what he felt . . . or both. He seemed to enjoy my furry buttglobes most of all, caressing and squeezing them more than using them for purchase as his mouth worked up and down the length of me.

When I was about three-quarters hard, he was really struggling. “You weren’t exaggerating – you’re fuckn enormous!” he choked out at one point, having pulled off me and stroking me. “I don’t know if—“

“You know the rules – you agreed to them!” I barked.

“Yes, sir!” he quickly said. “May I finish what I intended to say, sir?”

“Permission granted,” I replied.

“I don’t know if I can do this stallion dick of yours justice with my mouth if it grows much more. Which, by the way, it has just since I said that. FUCK! But my butt – however much it’ll regret it tomorrow morning – is damn sure going to! Do justice to your cock, I mean. And I won’t regret an inch of it!” he stated with defiant confidence.

Good boy. “First you’re going to lick the sweat off me – every inch of me. That sofa?” I asked, meaning the leather sofa in a portion of the room that was setup as a cosy sitting area, “Or is there a bed somewhere that you don’t mind ending up stinking of mansweat and mansex?”

“Bed,” he said, seeming to have difficulty saying it while sucking on my right nut.

For some reason that made me laugh, and I reached down to his sweaty armpit and pulled him up as I took a step back. “Let’s go,” I motioned, satisfyingly sniffing his pitsweat on my wet fingers. There it was – real manscent.

There was a loft in the “workspace” up a set of spiral stairs that definitely was not made for two big men, but we managed to get up there. It was about twenty degrees hotter up there, and I saw a window unit A/C and a fan, neither in operation. Truth told, the warmth of my bitch’s body had done little to stave off the chill of the A/C downstairs, and the heat upstairs felt good.

The bed was bigger than I would have expected in a “workspace” and I briefly wondered as to its employment in the past. Not so much how many other men he had fucked around with in it, but the thought was more about whether he found himself sleeping out here when tensions between the wife and he were high, probably because, like most women, she KNEW he preferred men, even though they never discussed it.

SNAP OUT OF IT! I admonished myself. To him, “Take off my shorts and jockstrap again, all the way this time. And when I lay back and make myself comfortable, take my shoes and socks off. And start there, at my toes!”

The command was met with him falling to his knees and pulling down my shorts again, roughly and quickly, to my ankles that time. Then he carefully supported first my left leg by firmly but gently gripping my lower left calf and then my right as he got the shorts and strap off over my smelly sneakers, rubbing his face along each sneaker and moaning as he did. Then, with his eyes locked up with mine, he brought the ball of my shorts and jockstrap in his fist to his face and inhaled deeply, rubbing the sweat-drenched wad all over his face until his eyes were covered, he was rasping in loudly and he was moaning like I’d already shoved my cock into him.

“Whenever you’re ready to proceed,” I told him, ready to remind him this was about my pleasure, not his, if necessary.

“If I thought I could get away with it,” he said with a naughty grin, looking up at me, “I’d ask you if I could keep these,” he said, vaguely motioning with the wad of my shorts. “They’d be the crown jewel in my spankbank,” he proclaimed, again shoving them into his face, the seat area right over his nose, and inhaling and moaning loud. “MMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!”

“You’ll earn anything you get today – my sweat, my cock, my cum . . . and any souvenir I feel generous enough to reward you with!” I told him.

“OH GOD YES!” he replied with an ecstatic look on his face, and his body shuddered with pleasure hearing that.

“Now be a good bitch and get on with it.”

“Yes, sir!” he quickly replied, disengaging my jockstrap and putting it over his head to fall around his neck. Again rubbing his stubbly face along my sneakers, he then made quicker work of getting them off, being certain to show me that he inhaled deeply of each before he put it down, eyes nearly crossing from delight. My socks were a further excitement – his mouth was all over my sweatsoaked gym socks, and he sucked my toes and chewed my feet through them before finally taking them off and sucking on them. His novel way of indulging himself was to keep them close to his nose as he took them off and to lick down my foot as he did. “HUGE feet!” he moaned as I felt his stubbly cheek and chin rubbing on first one and then the other.

My cock was at full flag at that point. He was a damn appealing bitch – both aesthetically and, despite my mental criticisms of not getting straight to things, his actions were turning me on beyond belief. As I was thinking that, he moved up and buried his face upward between my widely spread legs, face fully in my sac and my cock against his forehead. He rubbed in – no tongue – and huffed over and over again, rubbing his face around in my funky sweat. Then, to my surprise, his tongue did make an appearance, flicking the back of my taint and toward my shithole. “MMRRRMMMAY I?” he managed to get out.

Well, he may not have tongue done above my ankles, but who was I to forego a rimjob? I hadn’t showered that morning after doing the necessary, and that after a long morning run and before that after fucking the hell out of a fuckbud the night before and having his cuntstink on my cock and under my foreskin. This bitch obviously smelled and tasted me as I was and knew what he wanted. I knew I wasn’t shitty dirty BACK THERE, at least on the outside, but then again I had noticed a slight skidmark when he’d been facefondling my shorts. As my mind raced, I knew I was far from clean or even acceptable. For a brief moment I tried to remember what made me go out without showering – that not being like me – but remembered it was because I wanted to get to the supermarket and back before the game, and I rationalized that if I ran short of time for a shower and arrived at the game grungy, I’d fit right in with many of the other guys on a usual Saturday morning. It was very rare that I was like that – completely counter to training, ONLY on off duty days.

Swinging my left leg and stepping with my right, I turned and propped my hands on the bed and shoved my ass out for him, positioning it so his need to move to access what he wanted was almost nonexistent. And his face was in my crack instantly, insistently, his tongue all up in my grungy hole. He was slobbering and snuffing and rubbing his face and tonguing and sucking. And I forgot about my state of hygiene and enjoyed the eager bitch’s enjoyment of me.

It was only moments before I felt his body shuddering under me. I knew he wasn’t jacking, because his hands were roughly pulling apart my bubble buttcheeks to get his face and tongue in deeper. It was almost as if he was trying to shove his head up inside me, he was pushing into my crack so forcefully. But his body was definitely beyond quivering, and I hoped he wasn’t having a seizure or something. And as I was about to try and get a better look back through my legs, he cried into my asscrack and started spasming. “AAAAAAMMMMRRMRRMGGGMMMMRRRMMMMMMMMMM.” Some of his cum splattered my left ankle and foot as he came, clutching desperately to my ass, his face buried against my crack, tongue slack as he rode out his climax.

“God, sorry,” he choked out panting when he’d stopped shuddering. “It’s just that—“

“Get the fuck back to work. I’m not here for your enjoyment. I’m here for you to service me, you pathetic bitch!”

He shuddered delightedly at that sharp rebuke, as I suspected he would. Born bitch. My instincts and perceptions were back on track. Then he dove back in, moaning and groaning, and I honestly wondered if he’d start cumming again right then, his enthusiasm was so great.

The bitch ate out my hole until he was starting to get my nutt worked up, so I finally broke free and propelled myself forward onto the bed and flipped over on my back. My feet were right at his head, and I slowly slid them along the side of his face, smearing his own cum off the one he’d bonzaied when he nutted, as I readied myself to get myself situated. His eyes rolled back in his head as my sweaty feet had his head between them. “You’re SO fuckn HOT!” he intoned.

I almost broke out laughing. Of course I’m fucking hot! It’s about ninety up here, I was out playing baseball before I got here and then drove here with no air conditioning! My brain does that sometimes – goes literal . . . and defensive, when I’m getting too turned on too soon with some piece of ass. Mark was an unexpected pleasure, full of promise, and this was promising to be a longer afternoon than I’d planned, wondering how long he had the house to himself.

Instead of responding I simply let him continue his enjoyment, then finally slowly lowered first one foot and then the other. He traced along my calf and knee as I got the heels of my feet on the bed, and he was forced to go backward off the bed as I crowded him back.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I said, and he looked startled . . . and apprehensive. “I want your cunt. NOW!”

“OH FUCK YES, SIR!” he cried so loud I’m sure it was audible outside. I briefly wondered if his wife was home already, in the house, with his little kids. That’s NOT the kink I’m into!

“You ready for that cunt to be split open and USED by a REAL MAN?”

“Any time you wish, sir. Anywhere.” His gaze was fixed on my eyes, though he’d stolen a glance at my fuckclub jutting anxiously up.

“Get some of that cum you shot on the floor and lube your cunt with it!” I ordered.

He looked momentarily surprised, as if he was about to say something, then he did as he was told. I couldn’t quite see where he was scooping it up, as it was too close to the end of the bed, and by then I was propped on my elbows with my ass just at the edge of the bed. But he thoughtfully – and with a dirty smirk – turned so that his ass was facing me, and I saw his fingers glistening as he smeared his cuntring with what he’d harvested and then worked it in with first one of his meaty fingers, then a second. “Oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he moaned as he stretched his cunt around his thick fingers, and I couldn’t tell if he was enjoying it or if he was suffering the intrusion . . . or both. If two of his fingers – however big – wasn’t enjoyment, he’d be screaming shortly when my fat fuckrod breached his hairy cunt.

Getting up to sitting I leaned forward. “Let me add some spit – you’re going to need all the lube you can get in that tight cunt before I go in.”

“FUCK YEAH!” he cried and bent forward and held his cunt open toward my face.

I hocked up a huge glob of snot and followed it with another. I would have made any pitcher proud with that output. “I really don’t want to have to call 911 today,” I said dismissively.

“If anyone calls 911 from here today, it’ll ” he struggled as a third finger went in, “Be because you fucked me until you had a heart attack!” I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. The bitch was good, at least in words. But heart attack? FUCK, I had a bit more than a decade on him, but I wasn’t THAT old!

Already sitting on the edge of the bed, I planted my hands behind me, leaning back just enough. “Get up here and fuck yourself on my cock!” I ordered. “Show me that you’re worthy of a horsecock like mine.”

“Fucking YES SIR!” he agreed enthusiastically, and he backed up and maneuvered his cunt to where my drooling tip was at his cunthole. “Mind if I—“

“That’s what it’s made for – use it to lube yourself and rub it up and down my shaft while you’re at it,” I answered him before he’d finished the question.

He did – both rubbed my head around his cuntring and smeared my flowing precum around in ample amounts and squeegeed more out long the huge protruding channel on my underside until I could feel him slick as a Slip N Slide. And while he was driving my cockhead crazy, he had one hand back through his legs, as much around my girthy shaft as he could grip, smearing me with my own output. His other hand was planted on my knee, steadying himself.

Without warning, he moved his hand from my slicked shaft down to my low hanging nuts and grabbed a handful, barely fisting them both. “Goddamn fuckn horseballs!” he exclaimed, rubbing them in his grip and massaging them. “Bet there’s enough in here to drown me from the inside!” he said over his shoulder, revealing an even dirtier smirk.

“You give my nuts a good workout while you ride my cock, and you might just get your wish,” I told him.

“Hot damn!” he said, giving them a tug. “I fuckn love a man who can take his balls played with.”

“This isn’t playing – this is WORK! Now—“

He cut me off with a sharp tug to my nuts, which had the effect of pulling my cock into perfect alignment again with his cunt. So I firmly gripped his waist and PUSHED him down onto it. He ROARED as I breached him after having to dramatically increase my pull force to overcome his cuntring’s muscle resistance. Then, after the cry devolved into a gasp, he began to panted, and I felt his tight cunt pulsing with his heartbeat around my fat knob and an inch or two of my shaft. “FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!” he hissed, finally making a word out of his noise.

“That’s right. Now FUCK my cock, BITCH!” I growled, honestly not thinking his tightness would relent and take any more of me.

But I’ll give credit where credit is due. With roaring growls and howls, and with a loud near screaming bellow when we as a team forced me through his second ring, he powered himself down onto me until he was grinding his crack back into my pubes for anything he hadn’t taken in. His entire cunt was so tight it was painful, threatening to cut off the circulation in my cock . . . like a cocksleeve instead of a cockring. JUST like I like it!

“I’ve never—“ he exclaimed. “Is that thing even human? Are you sure you’re not the devil, about to steal my soul?” he managed to gasp out as he sat there, adjusting to it fully intruding .

“The only thing I want from you or any bitch is your mouth, your cunt and your obedience.”

He growled, “Yes, SIR!” at hearing that and began very slowly to move himself on my cock. His moans, having subsided and given way to the panting, raised again in volume. The sounds he made were strangled and determined as he began to fuck himself up and down on my cock. I would fuck him soon enough . . . but for now it was his job.

It took him some, but he worked up a force and rhythm, riding up and down the length of me, still slowly, but fully. His cries would go up in pitch as my widely flared cockhead began to rebreach his cuntring, and then a long moan would ensue as he went down balls deep on me again, a yelp when the wide flare of my knob slammed into and past his pleasure nub. I was guiding his strokes by his waist, but not really – my hands were there, but he was doing the work, as a good bitch should.

When he’d transitioned from cries and moans to moans and growls of enjoyment with every impact to his prostate and the stretch to his cuntring as I was almost free of him, I knew he was ready. I held him firm but STOOD FAST and SHOVED into him on stroke. “OHHOLYFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!” he cried out, and I felt his body jolt and shudder with the joy of the sudden thrust and him struggle for balance.

I walked him around still balls deep in him until he was facing over the edge of the bed. I kicked his feet out wide, causing me to seat in him just a hair deeper, garnering a loud, “OOOOMMMMMPPPHHHHHH!” from him as I did. Then I pushed him over forward, planted a fist on the small of his back to hold him, held his hip still with the other hand, and I started to really POUND him.

There was nothing gentle, no buildup and nothing held back. I POUNDED him. Alternately short, stabbing strokes, then long dicking him. His cries were constant and plaintiff and exultory, alternating and continuous as I railed him as good as I’ve ever railed a cunt tight enough to worry about my cockskin and his cuntwalls getting torn to shreds from the friction.

“OH GOD OHGOD OHFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKK YOU’RE GONNA MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” he screamed, as his body first tensed then shattered into convulsions, and he came HARD for the second time I knew of that day. Gotta hand it to him – he was potent!

The spasms of his cuntmuscles served to pull me closer, but I was thinking I wouldn’t go over. And then he reached back, GRABBED my nutsack and huge, wildly swinging nuts, and began to squeeze and pull at them. “FUCKYEAH!” I cried out and reached down and grabbed his hair to arch his back and really put my back into slamfucking him.

He growled as I contorted his body – him gripping my nuts through his own legs, his head yanked back – and I continued slamming savagely into him. “YEAH? THAT WORKING FOR YOU BITCH?”

“FUCK YESSIR!” he struggled to get out.

“Work that cunt of yours and milk it out of me. You want this manjuice, you’re gonna EARN IT!”

And he did. For the first time since I’d turned him around, he began fucking back into me, and he was clenching his ass around me. All the while he was groaning, growling, cursing and straining, but he fucked back into my brutal thrusts. And he was really working my bull nuts rough, too. At one point he yelled out, “OH FUCK MAN JUST GIIIIIIIVE ITTTTTT TOOOOOO MEEEEEEEEEEEEE NOWWWW!” and I managed to SMACK his asscheek so hard it reverberated over the noise he was making.

The snap caused him to cry out and for his cuntmuscles to involuntary spasm TIGHT around my pistoning cock. Which is what finally pulled me over. He gripped my nuts even harder as I SMACKED his ass again and yelled “FUCKYEAH HERE IT COMES!” over his strangled yell as he yanked my nuts HARD forward.

And I SLAMMED so hard into him that last time that his head snapped down, out of my grip, onto the bed as I planted myself. My first pump felt like lava blasting through me. “JESUS I CAN FUCKN FEEL IT!” he yelled, just after I’d felt my seed leave my fuckrod at high velocity. “I’ve NEVER— SHIT AGAIN! OHHHHH FUCKN HOTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!”

I began thrusting again as I blasted the remainder of my load, and he was shuddering and screaming and enjoying the fuck out of being seeded. And then I felt the floor vibrate – like an earthquake I’d felt in California when I was stationed at Miramar. I stopped, though my body was still in its final pumps and didn’t stop shooting. “WHATTHEFUCK?!” I shouted.

“Garage. Door. Opener!” he gasped and vaguely pointed to the left wall. “Wife. Home,” he croaked out.

“Good timing,” I said and roughly pulled out of him.

“JESUSFUCKNA!” he cursed as I ripped my cock free.

I didn’t bother apologizing. I did, however, take note of the beautiful, HUGE gape of his stretched cunthole . . . and another load of cum on the bed to the side of where he’d tumbled when I’d pulled out. THREE! Obviously he needed it.

Looking around for something to wipe up with, he again vaguely pointed the other way, to the bathroom I’d seen when we came up. I went in and grabbed a towel and came out, wiping my cock off. The stench of mansweat and mansex in the room was stifling . . . in the very best way, and having gone into the surprisingly large bathroom and returning again, it made me swoon. It gave my cock thoughts about another fuck, too, though I wasn’t planning on it. Yet another battle of wills with my cock and nuts . . . story of my life!

“Not that I care, but if I’m going to leave you my jockstrap, I probably don’t want to have my cock soaking through my silkies with cum before I get in my apartment,” I said, standing there purposefully wiping off my slimy cock and nuts.

“YEAH?”

I figured out he was talking about me gifting him my jockstrap, not about not wanting to get to my apartment from the garage with a huge wet spot behind my bulge. “Yeah,” I answered as he lifted my strap’s rank pouch to his face, closed his eyes and inhaled deep and long.

When he came up for air he enthusiastically said, “THANK YOU!” as I pulled my shorts up commando. Dangerous, giving their shortness and my . . . length and girth.

I sat on the edge of the bed, hoping I didn’t I tempt some unwelcome readvance from him, as often happens in such situations. I got my socks and shoes on, but Mark lay there huffing my jockstrap and fingering himself, hard as a fucking light pole all over again. OH, to be young again. Well, honestly, I could have easily gone again, as my nuts advocated energetically. “You earned it,” I told him, when I finally stood again and enjoyed the sight of him still huffing my stink.

“Thank you for that, sir!” he replied. “And for this. Most amazing—“

“My shirt is downstairs,” I cut him off lamely, not waiting for him to do something. Mostly I was wondering as I descended the stairs if I’d risk running into his wife when I left out to the alley. I’d heard the garage door go down again when I went into the bathroom for the towel, and there was no other access evident to the alley, but who knows? And the last thing I wanted was any complication of that sort, no matter how good the fuck was.

“Do you have somewhere you have to be?” he asked before I was too far down the stairs not to turn and see him, still huffing the strap, but now with one arm behind his head. His bis and tris were spectacular. As was the rest of him, honestly.

But in my head, all that was going through it was, Okay, shit – here we go with the mushy crap! Being incapable of lying, I answered honestly, and more completely than I needed to. “No, I don’t have to be anywhere. But I told you – I cum, then I go – just that. And . . . don’t you need to get cleaned up,” and I vaguely wondered how he’d plug his hole, which was still draining my rather large cumload, “And to your wife and family?”

“Oh, I will. But she doesn’t know I’m home. I took my car and parked it down a sidestreet when you agreed to come over. So she thinks I’m out while she was at the birthday party with the kids.” He then changed position for the first time since he’d flopped over after I seeded him, and he followed me down the stairs naked. At the bottom he overtook me and reached out and rubbed my semihard cock and gave my balls a squeeze. “And if you’re going to leave me with a gift, AND IF you made me cum my brains out THREE FUCKING TIMES without ever touching myself – and bud, seriously, that’s NEVER happened to me before! – then I’m thinking I could do something more for you before you go.”

My cock was growing despite my resolve to get out of there. The whole “she won’t know” thing was not my scene. But my cock was in control, and him gently rubbing had me three quarters there again.

“No pressure, sir,” he said. “Just a request from a grateful man that he be allowed to give you and this amazing piece of manmeat more pleasure.”

At that point, there was no angel on either shoulder to stop me, and either two devils or just the one made the decision. “Since your car is around the corner somewhere, we’ll leave in my car, and I’ll drop you at your car, then you can follow me to my apartment. I’ll fuck you until you can’t sit down for the drive home. That is, IF you can take it!”

He crowded me the way I had him earlier. Looking up slightly to meet my focus, he said, “You realize that if you take me home with you, I might be like a stray dog who gets treated the way he deserves for once in his life and never leaves?”

I stood my ground and just furrowed my brow and glared at him. But he had served to break any thoughts I had of doing anything of the sort.

“Okay,” he laughed. “Not funny. Actually, not even to me, now that I think of it. HAHAHA No, seriously, what I was going to say was that if you take me to your place, you might actually end up giving me your name. Are you prepared to trust me with that?”

I took a step into him, bumping chests with him. “You already know my name, if you were paying attention when I answered the phone,” I growled. “And my car is parked across the alley outside, and you can easily see the license plate when I’m leaving. I’m sure it’s no trouble for a cop like you to—“

“What made you think I’m a cop?” he sputtered, startled, stepping back.

I said nothing, again making him think about it. Then the light went on. “The plaque.” There was a plaque on the far wall with a photo of what looked like him in uniform. I hadn’t been able to nor made an attempt to read the engraving earlier. “That’s my father,” he said, with a reverent tone. “Killed in the line of duty.”

Neither of us moved, chests pressing together with enough pressure to remind us that we were standing off, but not pressing it further. The photo looked enough like him from a distance that it had been an honest mistake. “I’m sorry about your father, Mark. I’ve lost two fathers. I mean that – I’m sorry for your loss, and I thank you on your father’s behalf for his service.”

He hung his head, briefly touching his forehead to my shoulder, but catching himself and raising it again. “Thank you. And . . . Cate? That’s your name?” he was trying not to show the confusion at the name.

I took a step back and put out my hand, but I maintained eye contact. “Bill Cate. Pleased – well, shit – VERY pleasured – to MEAT you!”

“Mark Ballentine. Junior,” he said through a snigger at my joke. “And likewise, I’m sure.” The same strong, manly grip that I’d enjoyed in the store as we shook.

With the moment passed, but still gripping his hand, I said, “We’ll do the next round another time.” His face darkened. “You’ve got to be good, after three fuckn nuttloads!” I laughed with that.

He reached with his other hand and gave my nuts a squeeze through my thin PT shorts. “These feel like they’ve got more rounds than that in them!”

I let go of his hand and stepped back, him ultimately releasing his grasp on my sac. “Then you have something to look forward to, don’t you? You have my number.”

“And you have mine. Don’t hesitate if you need those – THAT MONSTER! – taken care of.”

 “Ballentine?” I said over my shoulder, moving to the door.

“Sir!” he replied behind me.

I turned after snatching up my shirt from where I’d shucked it. It felt good when I slid it on again, in the air conditioned temp of the lower floor. Then I traced through his heavy pelt between his pecs and down to just above his cock, which started to chub again for me. “I know you can handle what I’m about to say without getting all girly or worse, queeny on me.” I didn’t stop when his face clouded over. “Any time it works in both our schedules, I’d love to fuck you again. You have a world class cunt and you know how to use it. You’re also sexy as fuck. But when I want to fuck and make the call, it’s to a bitch who’s made himself available to me without any constraints. In other words, I call, he cums . . . or rather I do. A married, family man? Not exactly my thing for an on-call bitch. You call me when you know you’ll have some time, and if it works with my duty schedule – another clue for you there, by the way! – I’ll be pumping you full of my seed before you know what split you open. Okay?”

His face had softened again. “Very practical. Then again, if I’m that good,” he said with a new smirk, “Maybe I’d be worth the risk of a call that ends with a can’t do?” I couldn’t help but to laugh at that, and he joined me. “Up to you, Cate.”

For the first time in a very long time, I was on the verge of doing something I almost never do – ask a trick for his number "Well, there's also that I don't have callerID on my apartment phone, so I don't have your number, if there have been any calls since yours."

"Since?" He looked perplexed for a moment and then not. "Oh, right - you couldn't do star 69 and then see it on your phone. Or do you have a rotary to go with your not having caller ID?" 

Fuck it! I thought, annoyed with his joke about my frugality and annoyed with myself for wanting to fuck him again. I turned and took the two steps to the door. “You never answered me—“

He interrupted me without having to ask what answer I was seeking, at the same time sprinting to a desk and getting a pad and pen. “She’s inside the house, long ago. I heard the garage door shut, so even if she was in the garage, she wouldn’t see you. There’s no view beyond my workspace and the garage to the alley from the house. And in the three years we’ve lived here, she’s never set foot in the alley, not even to take out the garbage cans when I was away on business.” He laughed to himself at that. He pressed a folded piece of paper from the notepad into my hand. “You’re safe, Cate. Go and be horny for you have forsaken me today.”

I reached out with my other hand and smacked his ass HARD, and he grimaced, his cunt having had a right sound seeing to and still smarting from it. He would be for a few days. “Not anywhere near forsaken . . . wouldn’t you agree?” 

Then he laughed as I walked out.

When I got home, I stuffed the paper – which I hadn't looked at but which I knew must contain his number – into my actual little, black book. I wasn't ready to dive into the deep waters and write it in yet, even in pencil – but I was intent on having it.

Epilogue: 

Mark and I fucked for several years, and he was not only just as good a fuck every time during that period, he was adaptable, innovative and interesting, too. The Tuesday after the long weekend my husband and I spent together when we met, four years after I’d started fucking Mark, I was to see Mark after he got off work, before he went home. I was living in the District then, he worked in the District, and he’d changed his work hours to make it so that he had some playtime a couple of early evenings a week to get fucked by me after I hit the gym after duty. I texted him that Tuesday morning after my long weekend with the man who would later become my husband, and I told Mark that I was off the market. He called me and congratulated me warmly, and complimented both me and by extension my later to be husband – embarrassingly . . . and then offered himself to the both of us. I laughed and politely declined. We never took him up on that. Maybe now, these years later, when we’ve relaxed into our monogamy and have started enjoying the fun of a third now and again, I should make that call.

As always, I hope you've enjoyed my reflections on a life of slutting around. Comments/emails always welcomed. 

AND . . . DO NOT forget to give Bjorn some love for providing and maintaining this site for us. Where would we be without GayDemon to indulge our prurient sides? Besides - Bjorn is SUCH a nice guy . . . and an adorable, hot bitch, too!