I arrived at Gene’s condo early Saturday morning, just after nine, with a small overnight bag, nothing fancy, just lube, a couple of clean towels, and a few surprises I thought might interest him. He opened the door in a loose robe, already half-hard underneath, and pulled me inside before I could even say hello.
We kissed like we’d been starving for each other, his tongue exploring my mouth the same way I’d explored his cock the first time. “I’ve been thinking about you since you left,” he murmured against my lips. “Couldn’t sleep. Kept stroking myself remembering how tight you felt.”
We didn’t waste time getting to the bedroom. Clothes came off fast, mine in a heap, his robe tossed aside. Gene’s big, beautiful cock was already rising, thick and veined, the head glistening. I dropped to my knees right there in the doorway and gave him the slowest, most worshipful blowjob of my life.
I started with those heavy, shaved balls, sucking each one into my mouth, rolling them gently with my tongue, then bathing the entire sack until it was shiny and dripping with my spit. Gene’s hands were in my hair, not forcing, just guiding. “God, you really do worship cock, don’t you?” he groaned.
I worked my way up the shaft, licking every inch, tracing the thick vein underneath until I reached the head. Then I took him deep, slowly, inch by inch, until my nose was buried in his trimmed pubic hair and his cock was sliding into my throat. I held it there, swallowing around him, letting my throat muscles milk him while I looked up into his eyes. He lasted longer this time, savoring every second, fucking my face in long, lazy strokes while I played with his balls and teased his taint with a spit-slick finger.
When he finally came, it was explosive, thick ropes pulsing straight down my throat at first, then pulling back so I could taste the rest on my tongue. I swallowed every drop, then licked him clean while he trembled. “Your turn,” he said, voice hoarse, and pulled me up onto the bed.
He spent the next hour returning the favor, sucking me slow and deep, then flipping me onto my stomach to eat my ass again. His tongue was relentless: long, wet laps from my balls all the way up my crack, then circling my hole before pushing inside.
He added fingers, two at first, scissoring gently, then three, stretching me open while he kept licking. I was leaking everywhere, my cock trapped under me, soaking the sheets.
That’s when he introduced the first “object.” He reached into his nightstand and pulled out a thick, black silicone prostate massager, curved, with a bulbous head and a vibrating base. “Bought this after our last time,” he confessed with a wicked grin. “Thought you might like it.”
He lubed it generously and worked it into me slowly while he sucked my cock again. The moment it pressed against my prostate, I moaned like a whore. He turned on the low vibration and left it there, buzzing steadily while he climbed up and fed me his cock again. The combination, mouth full of Gene, ass full of pulsing toy, had me coming in minutes, shooting down his throat while my hole clenched around the massager.
We took a break after that, coffee, a little conversation, his hand idly playing with my spent cock. Then we moved to the living room for round two. Gene sat on the couch and had me straddle him facing away, reverse cowboy.
I lowered myself onto his bare cock (we’d already discussed PrEP and trust; it felt right). The angle was perfect; I could control the depth while he reached around and stroked me. I rode him like that for a long time, grinding down so every inch was buried, feeling his balls against my ass. He talked dirty the whole time, telling me how hot my hole looked stretched around him, how he loved watching his cock disappear inside me.
Next position was something new for both of us: standing. He bent me over the back of the couch, feet barely touching the floor, and fucked me hard from behind. Deep, powerful strokes that made my whole body jolt. Then he pulled out, spun me around, and lifted one of my legs onto his hip so we were almost face-to-face. He slid back in and fucked me like that, slow and intimate, kissing me the entire time while his cock dragged over my prostate on every thrust.
That’s when the second toy came out. He’d bought a set of graduated anal beads, smooth, silicone, starting small and getting thicker. While he was still inside me, he reached over and started teasing my hole alongside his cock, working the first few beads in.
The stretch was intense but incredible, his thick cock plus the added pressure. He fucked me with both until I was shaking, then slowly pulled the beads out one by one while he came deep inside me for the second time that morning. I felt every pulse, every spurt, and it pushed me over the edge again. My cock shot across his chest without either of us touching it.
We showered together after that, slow, soapy handjobs and more ass play under the hot water. Then we napped, naked and tangled, his softening cock nestled between my cheeks.
By late afternoon we were at it again. This time he wanted me on my back, legs over his shoulders, missionary, but deep. He used a different toy first: a thick, realistic 8-inch dildo (slightly bigger than him) to open me up even more.
He fucked me with it slowly, watching my face the whole time, then replaced it with his own cock and pounded me until we both came again, me hands-free, him flooding my insides while he kissed me so deeply I could barely breathe.
The last round was lazy and sweet. He put me on my side, spooned behind me, and slid back in while we watched the sunset through the window. No toys this time, just his cock, his hand slowly stroking me, and his voice in my ear telling me how perfect I felt, how he wanted this every weekend if I’d have him.
Sunday morning light filtered through the half-open blinds, painting warm stripes across the bed where Gene and I had slept tangled together all night. His body was pressed tight against my back, one arm draped over my waist, his softening cock from the night before still tucked snugly between my cheeks as it belonged there.
I could feel the slow, lazy swell as morning wood took over, thickening, lengthening, the head nudging insistently against my still-slick hole. I didn’t wait for him to wake fully. I reached back, wrapped my fingers around the base of his shaft, and guided him right to my entrance.
With a small push backward and a deep exhale, I felt the fat head breach me, then the rest of him sliding in on the leftover lube and cum from yesterday. One long, smooth glide until he was buried to the hilt.
Gene groaned low in his throat, half-asleep but instantly alert. “Fuck… good morning to you too,” he rasped, hips rocking forward on instinct. His hand slid down to grip my hip, holding me in place while he started a slow, sleepy fuck, shallow at first, just rocking inside me, letting me feel every ridge and vein drag over my prostate.
I clenched around him deliberately, milking him, and he growled against my neck, biting softly. We stayed like that for long minutes, lazy, intimate spooning sex, no rush, just the wet sound of him moving in me and our breathing syncing up. When he finally came, it was quiet, almost gentle: a series of deep pulses, adding another warm load to the mess already inside me. He didn’t pull out right away; he just stayed buried, softening slowly while we dozed again for another half-hour.
Eventually hunger and the smell of coffee pulled us upright. We padded naked to the kitchen, me leaking a slow trickle down my thigh, and made a simple breakfast. Gene couldn’t keep his hands off me: fingers tracing my crack, dipping in to feel how open and sloppy I still was. “You’re gaping a little,” he said with a proud grin. “I like knowing I did that.”
After coffee we moved back to the bedroom, and that’s when the real play began. Gene had clearly been shopping again. On the nightstand sat two new toys he’d unwrapped just for today: a heavy, black silicone butt plug, fat, tapered, with a wide flared base, and something that made my cock twitch the second I saw it: a realistic horse-cock dildo.
It was massive, easily 12 inches long, thick as my wrist at the medial ring, with a flared head, a veined shaft, and even a pair of heavy molded balls. Dark brown silicone, lifelike texture, suction cup base. He caught me staring and laughed. “Saw it online and thought, ‘Dick would lose his mind over this.’ Figured we’d see how much of a cock-hungry slut you really are.”
We started with the plug. He had me on my back, legs spread wide, knees to my chest. He lubed the plug generously; it was bigger than anything we’d used so far, and he worked it in slowly. The stretch burned sweetly; I breathed through it, pushing out as he pressed. When the widest part popped past my ring and seated deep, I moaned loud enough to echo off the walls. The weight of it pressed right on my prostate, making pre-cum bead steadily at my tip.
Gene left it in and climbed between my legs to suck me off, slow, sloppy, throat working around me while the plug kept me constantly stimulated. I came hard down his throat, ass clenching rhythmically around the silicone intruder.
Next came the horse cock. Gene positioned me on all fours at the edge of the bed, ass hanging off, feet on the floor. He lubed the monster generously, then teased my plugged hole with the flared head, rubbing it in circles, letting me feel how impossibly wide it was compared to him. “We’re not getting the whole thing today,” he said, voice thick with lust. “But I want to see you take as much as you can.”
He eased the plug out, my hole gaping and winking, then pressed the horse dildo in. Just the head at first, stretching me wider than I’d ever been. I whimpered, rocked back, took another inch. Gene held the base steady while I fucked myself on it slowly, working down past the medial ring until I had maybe 9 inches buried.
The fullness was overwhelming, deep pressure everywhere, prostate mashed relentlessly. Gene stroked my cock in time with my movements, whispering filthy praise: “Look at you taking that beast… such a perfect hole… gonna ruin you for regular cocks.”
I came again like that, untouched except for his hand, shooting across the sheets while the dildo stayed lodged deep. Gene pulled it out slowly, watching my wrecked hole flutter, then replaced it with his own cock. He fucked me hard and fast, chasing his own release, telling me how hot it was to slide into a hole already stretched by horse cock. He came with a shout, grinding deep, adding yet another load.
We took short breaks, more coffee, water, a quick shower where he fingered me open under the spray and made me cum one more time on his fingers, but the day kept rolling.
Afternoon brought more variations: me riding the horse dildo suction-cupped to the floor while Gene fed me his cock; him plugging me with the fat black plug again and fucking my throat until he came on my tongue; slow missionary with the plug still in beside his cock, double-filling me until we both shuddered through another mutual orgasm.
By early evening the sun was low, my ass was throbbing and loose, my balls empty for the third day straight, and every muscle felt deliciously used. Gene pulled me into one last slow fuck, me on my side, leg hooked over his hip, his cock sliding in easy now, no resistance left. He kissed me deep while he came one final time, a small, tired spurt that still felt perfect. We stayed connected like that until the light started to fade.
When it was finally time to go, I dressed slowly, feeling every movement remind me of the weekend. Gene walked me to the door, still naked, kissed me long and hard, then slipped the heavy black plug into my hand. “Keep this in on the drive home,” he said with a wicked smile. “Text me when you get there so I know you’re still plugged with my cum leaking around it.”
I did exactly that. Drove the whole way with the plug seated deep, his loads slowly seeping out around it, staining my seat. When I got home, I sent the photo he asked for, me naked on the bed, plug visible, hole puffy and red, and told him I’d be back next weekend ready for whatever new monster he ordered.
He replied almost instantly: “Good boy. I already have the fucking machine shipping. Next Saturday you’re not leaving until Monday morning.”
I fell asleep smiling, ass still plugged, tasting him on my lips, already counting down the days.
The next Saturday rolled around faster than I expected. Gene’s texts had been relentless all week, teasing photos of the fucking machine box sitting unopened in his living room, close-ups of the attachments he’d ordered (a thick, veined realistic dildo, a ridged one for extra texture, even a curved prostate hitter), and messages like: “Can’t wait to strap you down and let it pound you while I watch… or while I fuck your mouth at the same time.”
He kept circling back to his friend, too: “His name’s Ray. 82, widowed, still hard as steel when he’s turned on. Loves a tight hole that can take a pounding. No reciprocation needed, he wants to slide in and unload. You game? Thought we’d surprise you.”
I arrived at his condo mid-morning, heart pounding with anticipation. Gene opened the door in nothing but loose boxers, the machine already set up in the bedroom like some mechanical altar.
It was a sturdy black metal frame on a stable base, with an adjustable arm, speed dial (from teasingly slow to relentless jackhammer), depth control, and a 3XLR connector for quick attachment swaps. The box of dildos sat nearby, silicone cocks in various girths and lengths, all glistening with fresh lube in anticipation.
We barely made it inside before Gene had me stripped and on my knees. “First things first, warm-up,” he said, pulling his cock out. I worshipped him slow and deep, throat open, balls in my hand, while he described what was coming: “Ray’s on his way in an hour.
He’s excited, said he hasn’t had an eager ass in years. You’re gonna take us both, then the machine’s gonna finish what we start.” His words made me leak; I swallowed his first load while he groaned about how perfect my mouth felt.
Gene led me to the bedroom, had me get on all fours on the bed with my ass presented. He lubed me generously, fingered me open with three fingers, then slid in raw, deep, possessive strokes that had me moaning into the pillow. He fucked me steady for a good fifteen minutes, building me up without letting me cum, then pulled out just as the doorbell rang.
Ray was exactly as advertised: tall, lean, silver-haired, with kind eyes and a quiet confidence. He shook my hand like we were meeting for coffee, then stripped without ceremony. His cock was impressive for 82, thick, uncut, already half-hard and veined. “Gene’s told me all about you,” he said with a small smile. “Said you’re the best mouth and hole he’s had in decades. Mind if I watch first?”
Gene positioned me on my back, legs up, and re-entered me missionary-style while Ray stroked himself nearby. The sight of an older man watching turned me on even more; I clenched around Gene, milking him until he came deep inside me with a low grunt.
Ray stepped up immediately, no hesitation. He lubed up, pressed the thick head against my cum-slick hole, and pushed in slow. The stretch was delicious; he wasn’t as long as Gene but thicker, and he fucked with deliberate, powerful thrusts that hit my prostate every time.
“Tight… so fucking tight,” he muttered, hands on my hips. Gene knelt by my head, feeding me his softening cock to clean while Ray pounded away. When Ray came, it was explosive, deep grinds, hot spurts filling me further, his body shaking as he emptied everything he had.
We took a short breather, water, towels, more lube, then the real fun began. Gene had me lie face-down on the bed, ass at the edge, legs spread. He adjusted the machine: attached the thickest realistic dildo (about 8 inches long, girthy, veined), set the depth to hit just past my prostate, speed on medium.
He strapped my wrists loosely to the headboard for stability (consensual, easy to release), then guided the dildo to my entrance. “Relax, baby,” he whispered, easing it in on the first slow thrust.
The machine took over, mechanical, relentless, no fatigue. It started with long, deep strokes, then Gene cranked the speed. I moaned uncontrollably as it pounded me, the dildo dragging over every sensitive spot, my cock dripping steadily onto the sheets.
Gene and Ray watched, stroking themselves back to hardness. Gene swapped the attachment to a rigid one for extra texture, bumpy, intense friction that had me begging.
Ray took my mouth while the machine fucked me senseless; I sucked him sloppy, throat open, while the mechanical thrusts drove me wild. Gene edged me with his hand, not letting me cum yet. After what felt like forever (but was probably 20 minutes), they pulled the machine back, Gene slid in beside it briefly for that insane double stretch, then let Ray take another turn, fucking me hard while the machine’s dildo teased my hole from the side.
The finale: me on my back again, machine reattached with the curved prostate attachment buzzing at high speed. Gene straddled my chest, feeding me his cock; Ray knelt between my legs, sliding in alongside the machine’s shallow thrusts.
The overload, mouth full, ass double-penetrated by cock and silicone, pushed me over. I came hands-free, shooting ropes across my stomach while my hole spasmed around everything inside me. Gene came down my throat; Ray pulled out and added his second load to the mess dripping from me.
We collapsed in a heap, sweaty, spent, laughing softly. Ray kissed my forehead before he left, murmuring, “Thanks, kid. You’re something special. Hope to see you again.” Gene unstrapped me, cleaned us up gently, then spooned behind me as the sun set.
The sun had barely set when Gene’s arm tightened around me, his breath warm against my neck. “Stay tonight,” he murmured, cock still half-hard and nestled against my leaking hole. “Ray’s gone, but we’re not done. Machine’s got plenty left in it, and I’ve got ideas for tomorrow.” I nodded, too blissed-out and sore to argue. We dozed like that, spooned, sticky, his cum slowly seeping out around my puffy rim, until morning light crept in again.
Sunday dawned lazy and golden. Gene woke first, grinding slow against me until I was hard and ready. No words needed; he rolled me onto my stomach, spread my cheeks, and licked me clean, tongue delving deep into the messy hole Ray and he had filled the day before.
The taste of their combined loads must have turned him on because he was rock-hard in seconds. He slid in easy, no lube required, and fucked me prone-bone style: deep, grinding strokes that mashed my prostate while his weight pinned me to the mattress. I came quick, untouched, spilling into the sheets; he followed soon after, adding a fresh morning load to the mix.
Breakfast was quick: coffee, toast, his hand idly fingering my slick hole under the table. Then back to the bedroom. The machine waited, attachments scattered like toys in a sandbox. Gene had me on my knees first, head hanging off the bed edge for throat-fucking while he prepped the next setup. He chose the rigid dildo again, bumpy texture for maximum friction, and adjusted the machine for longer, slower thrusts. “Gonna let it build you up slow this time,” he said, strapping me face-down, ass elevated on pillows, wrists secured loosely again.
The machine started at a teasing pace: deep penetration that dragged those ridges over every nerve, prostate getting pummeled on the in-stroke. Gene knelt in front, feeding me his cock in lazy thrusts, matching the machine’s rhythm.
My moans vibrated around him; pre-cum leaked steadily from my tip. He cranked the speed gradually, medium, then high, until the mechanical pounding had me shaking, babbling around his shaft. “That’s it, take it like the slut you are,” he growled. I came hard, ass clenching rhythmically around the thrusting dildo, milking it like it was real. Gene pulled out and shot across my face, thick ropes landing on my cheeks and lips.
We cleaned up minimally, wipedowns, fresh lube, then switched attachments. He picked the curved prostate hitter: an angled head designed to hook right on the P-spot, with a slight vibration option he’d added (a small bullet vibe taped to the base).
Position change: me on my back, legs in stirrups he’d improvised with pillows and ties, hole presented perfectly. The machine eased in, curved tip pressing firmly against my prostate from the first thrust. Gene set it to shallow, rapid strokes, relentless tapping that built pressure fast. He straddled my chest again, cock in my mouth, while his fingers pinched my nipples.
The combo was brutal in the best way: prostate milked dry, throat full, body pinned. I came again, prostate orgasm this time, no cock stimulation needed, waves rolling through me, cum dribbling out in weak spurts while my hole fluttered wildly.
Gene wasn’t done. He swapped to the thickest veined realistic one, girthy, lifelike, and set the depth maxed, speed jackhammer. “One more big one,” he said, eyes dark with lust.
He had me ride it reverse: straddling the machine base, lowering onto the thrusting cock while he stood in front, fucking my mouth. The angle let the dildo hit deep, stretching me wide, balls-deep on every up-thrust. I ground down, riding the mechanical cock like it was alive, while Gene used my throat.
When he came, I swallowed greedily; moments later the relentless pounding pushed me over again, hands-free, screaming around his spent cock as my ass spasmed and milked the silicone intruder.
By early afternoon we were wrecked, bodies slick, holes sore, balls empty. Gene turned the machine off, unstrapped me, and pulled me into the shower for slow, soapy touching: fingers in my gaping ass, gentle stroking, kisses under the water. We napped naked, his cock soft between my cheeks again, plugging the mess inside.
As evening approached and I finally dressed to leave, Gene kissed me deep at the door. “Ray texted; he wants in next weekend. Said bring the machine to his place if you’re up for it. Or we stay here and add another guy. Your call, Dick. But you’re mine first.”
I drove home throbbing, ass full and leaking, mind spinning with possibilities. The machine had ruined me in the best way, endless, tireless fucking that no human could match for duration. And with Gene orchestrating, older friends joining, attachments escalating… this was just the beginning.
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