Big John

One of the biggest inconveniences of not having a car in the city was that I had to pull one of those folding shopping carts to the grocery store every two weeks for new supplies. The nearest store was about six blocks from my place so I had to make sure to get the things I could not find on the local drugstores or bodegas. It was during one of these trips that I first met Big John. The way back home was pretty much a straight line up to five blocks; only then I had to go through a nice local square to reach my street as a short cut. From a short distance, I saw there was someone sitting on a bench, probably enjoying the last rays of sunlight. 

It was Big John. I would have certainly just passed him by, say hello at most, but circumstances changed the this almost certain outcome. One of the wheels of my cart got rapped up on a thick piece of plastic and stopped rolling. I tried to quickly get rid of it but it was hard to lean the cart with one hand and reach the wheel with the other at the same time. 

Big John, seeing my ordeal, came over to offer some help. The wheel was free in no time and I thanked Big John for his kindness. In a very soothing voice he told me not to worry and asked me if I had a cigarette to spare. Since this was the least I can do to further thank him, I obliged. But that was what I thought. I found out later that there were many other ways to further “thank” Big John, ways that involved big loads of cum from both of us. 

It all started with him introducing himself: his name was John, he was fifty seven, divorced with two kids and a grandson. He worked with home renovations and was renovating a home nearby at the time. He would frequently kill time on that same spot before getting his train home. While volunteered all this info, I was closely checking him out. Guys, he was a gorgeous mother fucker! He was a little bit over six feet tall, deep green eyes on a cowboy like all American face; something about his thick eyebrows and classic mustache made him look much younger than he was, or that was simply the result of the teen hat he wore backwards. 

I could tell he was in good shape by the way the gray t-shirt exposed his solid chest and nipples; but you had to get past that heavy red and black checkers jacket to notice that. Regular blue jeans and huge working boots completed his outfit. Though this quick assessment of the specimen in front of my was good enough to send lusty sensations through my body, the words divorced, kids, grandchildren prevented me from acting recklessly; overall, the last thing I needed was to deal with the wrath of a strange straight man offended by any kind of sexual harassment just for being a Good Samaritan. 

So, I decided to let John lead the conversation and see where that would take us. He asked me a couple of general questions about myself, if I lived nearby and if I wanted him to help me carry my groceries. He added that I looked like a nice guy and he wouldn’t mind having a good conversation with a smart person over a drink. Besides, though not gay, he thought I was an attractive “fellow”. Bingo! I had him. 

The night had already fallen when Big John (pulling my shopping cart) and I head to my apartment. I cannot deny it was nice to have someone helping to overcome the twenty five steps up. Once inside, I told Big John to go to the living room and make himself comfortable, while I went to the kitchen to sort out the groceries. From the kitchen I could see he sat on the couch and found the remote for the tv. He asked me if he could turn it on and if I had anything stronger than beer for him to drink. My answer was “yes” for both questions and he turned the tv on while I fixed him the drink. He was sitting on one end of the couch and I positioned myself on the other. I handed him his drink and proposed a toast with my beer. 

He was still wearing his jacket and I told him it was ok for him to remove it; he suddenly said “Ok, as long as I can remove my boots too”. My heart raced a bit wit those unexpected words and, in quick thinking, I added: “Sure thing, as long as you allow ME to do it”. “Even better” was his smirk reply. Needless to say that our hot action started right at that moment. I sat my beer on the table, moved a little closer to him, grabbed his left leg and rested his booted foot on my lap; my dick was already getting hard on my pants but I had no reason to hide it; very patiently I started undoing the laces, until the boots were loose enough to be ripped off his feet; when they came off, the room was invaded by a strong yet pleasurable man’s scent, his socks kind of sweat from a long day’s work. 

Personally, I’m not a sock guy myself, though I don’t mind playing with them long enough before fully assaulting the bare feet. So, I held his socked foot up in the air, traced the yellow stain that shaped his high arch with my fingers, smelled the soles, sucked on the covered toes and joyfully tickled them; Big John was mesmerized by all the things I was doing to his socked foot, simply because it was a first. 

Damn, I had a hot foot virgin in my hands and I planning to do everything in my power to make that night unforgettable for him. Fighting my urge to rip those socks off his foot and start savoring on his bare skin, I threw his left leg up to the air, over my head, and behind my back; I brought his right leg into play and repeated all the foot adoration ritual to Big John’s right foot. This time, his reaction was more intense; he started to moan every time I just touched his foot, while working on a raging hard on that showed I would have serious business ahead. 

It was fucking hot the whole shit. With both his feet already subdued and still in socks (lightly tickling the right one), I decided to push the straight’s old man buttons to see how far he was really willing to go; I told BJ to remove his shirt, as I touched his big bulge with my free hand. He did not say a word, just did what I asked. Like I imagined, he was still well fit for his age and marital status, no six packs, but dreamy nipples just ready to be played with, along with a flat stomach that gave him goosebumps every time a tongue would run over them. BJ was a crazed sex fucker and right now he was all mine. 

Taking advantage of this crazing moment, I worked in his stomach some more while squeezing his firm nipples, what caused him to slightly open his mouth in ecstasy; I reached his half opened mouth and forced my tongue inside of it; he did not resist and kissed me back passionately, saying he couldn’t remember the last time he had somebody’s lips against his. God, was I lucky or what? Of one thing I was sure at this point: this pseudo straight man was ready to endure anything done to his body, and I was more than happy to be the one to explore it. And so I did. I went back to his right socked foot, that I was still lightly tickling by the way, and completely removed the sock in a no if, when or but manner.

I was granted with the sight of an exquisite sample of man’s feet, five perfectly aligned toes linked to delicious balls that led to a sole so smooth and pink like babies have, strong high arches that mixed with one of the most succulent heels I’ve ever tasted. It was hard to believe that those man’s perfect feet had never been touched before, in fifty seven years; his fault? Maybe. But he had a wife: what’s wrong with these women? 

I had many married and divorced guys in my bed over the years and playing with their feet have always taken them over the edge; as simple as that! But back to BJ’s feet: since, according to him, I was the very first person to ever play with them. I decided he deserved the best treatment ever. I brought both of his feet to my lap this time and commanded him to drop his pants all the way. I removed his left sock in the meantime. 

Those boxers had to go too, and I was not ashamed to take care of that. With BJ totally naked on my couch, I suggested him to move the “party” to my bedroom where we would be more comfortable; I told him I would take the bottle of bourbon with me and, again, he showed no resistance. Guys, what a view that was; I was drooling just with the picture of that man naked on my bed, waiting to be manhandled without any restrictions. I think I lost track of time but, for what seemed hours, I did everything humanly possible to his feet, occasionally teasing his hard dick just to keep him on the edge. 

I couldn’t have enough of those feet, the more I smelled them, touched them, swallowed them, tickled them, the more I wanted to do it, and the more he stroke his hard cock. But that hard prick had been unattended for a long time, and it was definitely time to show BJ what a hungry man’s mouth was able to accomplish. BJ’s dick was plain beautiful, uncut nine inches of meat with mushroom head kind of virgin too, since his wife refused to give blowjobs. Well, I was not his former wife! 

I brought his fully hard cock close to my nose at first, taking my time to examine his balls; like all the rest of him, they were just perfect: big, musky smell, pink and available. Concentrating on them seemed the right path to follow, and so I did. How can any man endure having his balls toyed with in such length of time I do not know, but BJ did. 

I pretty much raped his balls for a long time, and all he did was moan like a bitch in heat. That pretty much meant that his dick was mine to take and I took full advantage of that green light. I took his hard dick as further into my mouth as I could, grasping for air at times but not letting it go. His dick head was super sensitive and, every time I slurped on it he was taken aback and almost cried. I had him exactly where I wanted. 

For the longest time, I switched from working on his feet, balls and dick, his armpits still untouched, but that special treat was enough to make him to release a load all over his chest. Suffice to say that I kept that going on for a while, and BJ and I burst our nuts a couple of times. He came back to my place twice after that, but these are different stories.