As a 60-year-old man, I find myself drawn to the dark allure of submission, a fantasy that simmers beneath the surface of my everyday life. The thrill of being completely at the mercy of another man relinquishing control, is a tantalizing prospect that often invades my thoughts.
In my mind, the scene unfolds with a primal intensity. I'm in a dimly lit room, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of sweat and desire. There are men, several of them, their presence overwhelming and oppressive. They move with a predatory grace, their eyes locked onto me with a hunger that is both frightening and exhilarating.
I am stripped of my clothes, exposed and vulnerable, a sensation that sends a shiver down my spine. Their hands are rough and demanding, exploring every inch of my body with a possessive urgency. I am restrained, my arms pulled behind my back, the bite of rope or cuffs a stark reminder of my powerlessness.
The first man to takes me is aggressive, his movements driven by a raw, animalistic need. He dominates me completely, his strength and size leaving me no choice but to yield. Each thrust is a claim, a declaration of ownership, and I find myself surrendering to the sensation, my body responding in ways I never knew it could.
And as I drift into sleep, I know that this is a fantasy that I will revisit, a dark desire that I will continue to explore, even as the years pass and my body changes. For in submission, I find a power of my own, a strength that comes from surrendering completely.
Then what happened
The night is late, and the men's locker room is quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the ventilation system. I'm in the shower, the hot water cascading over my body, rinsing away the remnants of the day. As I finish, I step out, grabbing a towel to dry off. I sit naked on the bench beside my locker, the cool metal against my skin.
Suddenly, I sense a presence. I look up, and there he is—a man standing beside me, his body naked and unashamed. His physique is impressive, but it's his cock that catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. Even soft, it is a sight to behold. I feel a flutter of nervousness in my stomach, a mix of fear and anticipation. Why has he stopped right next to me. Why me? Does he sense the dark fantasies in my desires to submit and be used? No, I don’t let out that vibe, or do I?
He stands there. I can feel his eyes on me, assessing. Does he sense my submissiveness, my hidden desires. Can he read the thoughts racing through my mind? I am nervous, my heart pounding in my chest, but there is also a thrill, a dark that courses through my veins.
Slowly, I turn to face him. Our eyes meet, and in that moment, I know that I am no longer in control. He has seen the hunger (or weakness) in my eyes, the silent plea for dominance, and he
He is persistent, his gaze never wavering, but there is a patience in his movements, a deliberate slowness that heightens the tension. He knows what he wants, and he is willing to wait, to draw out the anticipation until it becomes almost unbearable.
I can't help but stare at his cock, heavy and impressive, even in its relaxed state it hangs there, a promise of power and pleasure, and I find myself unable to look away. My eyes trace the length of it, the thickness, the way it rests against his thigh, a testament to his virility.
His balls are shaved, smooth and inviting, and they hang low, heavy. They are at eye level, a tantalizing sight that draws me in, a silent invitation to touch, to explore. I can almost feel the weight of them in my hand, the softness of his skin, the heat that radiates from his body. This is a man.
He senses my curiosity, my longing, and he gives me time, allowing me to drink in the sight of him. There is no rush, no urgency, just a steady, unyielding presence that demands my attention. I am captivated, held in thrall by the raw masculinity that he exudes.
His patience is a weapon, a tool to heighten my desire, to make me yearn for his touch. He knows that I want to reach out, to hold him, to feel the weight of his balls in my hand, to trace the length of his cock with my fingers. And he knows that I will, in time, because he is persistent, relentless in his pursuit of my submission.
He doesn't need to say anything. His presence alone is enough, a silent declaration of his power and intent. He hovers over me, his body a shield, a barrier that both protects and confines. His silence is a command, a demand for my submission, and it is a language I understand all too well.
His mere proximity is a prompt, a call to action that I cannot ignore. The way he stands, the way he holds himself, the way his cock hangs heavy and inviting—it is all a demonstration of his dominance, a silent promise of what is to come. It is enough to break me down, to shatter my resolve and leave me vulnerable.
The thought that we may not be alone in this room adds a layer of tension, a thrill that is both exhilarating and terrifying. The possibility of an audience, of other men watching, observing, judging, is a prospect that sends a shiver down my spine. It is a test, a challenge to my submission, and I am not sure I am ready for it. I am not sure I want an audience for my attraction, for my desire. The thought of baring myself, of exposing my fantasies to others, is daunting. It is a vulnerability that I am not sure I can handle, a risk that I am not sure I am willing to take.
I am only inches away, the heat of his body radiating against my skin. His cock hangs before me, a tantalizing promise, and I can feel my breath mingling with the air, brushing against the sensitive head. The proximity is intoxicating, a mix of fear and anticipation that leaves me breathless. As he looks down upon me, his gaze is intense, knowing. He sees the conflict in my eyes, the battle between my desires and my fears. And as he does, I see it—his cock beginning to stir, to grow. It is a slow process, a testament to his control and my powerlessness. Little by little, it swells, the veins becoming more pronounced, the skin tightening. It is a sight that is both awe-inspiring and terrifying. He knows that I am going to suck him, that I will take him into my mouth, and the anticipation is palpable.
He is relishing this moment, the moment of my breakdown, the moment when I relinquish control and surrender to his will. It is a dance, a silent negotiation, and I am losing myself in it, drawn in by the promise of pleasure and the thrill of submission. The room fades away, the possibility of an audience forgotten, as I focus on the growing length before me.
In that moment, my hand moves of its own accord, a tentative reach that bridges the gap between us. My fingers slide underneath, the sensitive skin of his cock hot and smooth against my palm. The contact is electric, a spark that ignites a fire within us both. His excitement grows with my touch, his cock swelling and hardening in my hand. I can feel the pulse of his desire, the throb of his need, and it is a heady sensation, a rush of power.
I am astounded by my own audacity, by the fact that I am here, in this position, my hand wrapped around a stranger's cock. How have I gotten myself in this position? The question echoes in my mind, a silent plea for understanding. It is a culmination of desires, a meeting of fantasies that I never dared to voice, a journey into the depths of my submissive nature that I am only now beginning to explore.
His cock is a pillar of steel, growing harder, the veins pulsing with a life of their own. My hand struggles to encircle him. The heat radiating from him is intense. My desire to submit to him is a flame that burns bright and true, a need that cannot be denied.
I lean forward, my movements slow and deliberate, a silent offering of my submission. My lips part, my breath hot against the sensitive head, and I can feel his anticipation, his need, mirroring my own. This is the moment, the point of no return, and I am ready to cross the line, to surrender completely.
I open my mouth, my lips parting to receive him, and as I do, I am enveloped in a world of sensations. The taste is salty and musky, a primal flavor that speaks to the depths of my desires. It is a taste of power, of submission, and I am drawn to it, craving more. The smell is intoxicating, a heady mix of sweat and desire, a scent that is uniquely masculine. It fills my nostrils. It is a scent that I find myself wanting to drown in, to lose myself in, to be consumed by.
As I take him in, I am surrounded by the heat of him, the pulse of his desire, a rhythm that matches the pounding of my own heart. The feel of him, the smooth skin over the hard steel. My tongue explores, tracing the veins, the sensitive underside, tasting every inch of him. Each movement is a testament to my submission, a silent declaration of my desire.
I am now a cocksucker, a title I wear with a mix of pride and submission. I am willingly sucking him, my lips wrapped around his shaft, my tongue exploring every inch of him. The act is a surrender. The taste of him is a constant in my mind, a salty, musky flavor that I find myself craving. My tongue works in rhythm, tracing the veins, the sensitive underside, tasting every inch of his length.
I begin to explore further, my hands reaching underneath, seeking the weight and smoothness of his balls. They are heavy in my palm, a promise of what is to come, a reminder of the pleasure that awaits. I lift his cock, my movements slow and deliberate, a silent offering. I work my way down the shaft, my tongue tracing the length, tasting every inch of him. As I reach his balls, I am filled with a sense of awe and anticipation. They are smooth and inviting. I take them into my mouth, one at a time, rolling them gently with my tongue, tasting the salty sweetness that is uniquely his.
He is not forcing me. I am choosing this, willingly submitting to him, and in that choice. I am completely his, a submissive in every sense of the word, and I am ready to explore the depths of my fantasies under his dominant gaze.
My tongue is brave, a bold explorer that traces the smooth skin of his balls, tasting, teasing, cleaning every inch of him. I take them into my mouth, one at a time, rolling them gently with my tongue, sucking them with a hunger that is both surprising and exhilarating. As I worship his balls, he gently opens his legs, a silent invitation, I am not sure how to interpret. I wonder what he wants, what he expects, and the uncertainty is both thrilling and terrifying. He won't tell me, his silence a challenge, a test of my willingness to submit, to explore on my own.
I can guess, my mind racing with possibilities, each one more daring than the last. And as I guess, I am compelled to act, to submit, to explore the depths of my fantasies. My tongue ventures further, tracing the sensitive skin behind his balls, a place that is both forbidden and inviting. He makes me continue, his silence a command. My tongue is relentless, exploring, tasting, a bold adventure. My actions driven by a desire to please, to submit.
He knows me, my desires, my fantasies. He knows that I will dive deep into my submission, that I will explore the depths of my desires without hesitation. The mystery of his cleanliness is a non-issue, a detail that fades into the background as I focus on my task. I need to show him, to demonstrate my willingness to do anything, to go anywhere he leads. And in these early moments, I am eager to prove myself.
He is not shy. He turns, leaning against the locker, his legs opening further, offering himself to me. It is an invitation, a command, a demand for my complete submission, and I am ready to comply. I dive in, my tongue exploring. I am thorough, my actions driven by a desire to please. And as I eat him, I know that this is just the beginning. I am here, in this moment, my tongue exploring his most intimate places, and I am ready to go further.
I am not scared, my tongue is relentless. I am lost in it, my senses heightened and focused solely on him, on pleasing him, on submitting to him. The taste is not pleasant. It is a challenge, a test. He uses me, his pleasure a testament to my success, a reward for my submission. And as he feels he has had enough, he turns, his cock once again a presence that demands my attention. He feeds me his cock, a silent command, a demand for my obedience.
Admittedly I struggle to take all of him in my mouth. The is long and so thick. For what I can’t suck I lick and kiss and stroke to ensure his pleasure, He recognizes my enthusiasm and smiles as I apply myself to sucking his cock. My hands are a constant, stroking his shaft, fondling his balls, a rhythm that matches the pounding of my own heart. I am lost in the sensation, in the taste. His hand is gentle on my head, a guiding presence, a silent command. He fucks my mouth, his movements slow and deliberate.
As he nears his orgasm, I can feel the change in him, the tightening of his body, the increase in his pace. I am ready, eager to receive him, to taste him, to experience the full depth of my submission.
He cums, a sudden, intense release that fills my mouth. A flood of hot, salty liquid that coats my tongue, my teeth, my lips. It is a taste that is both overwhelming and exhilarating. The flow is relentless, a river that I am eager to drink, to savor, to experience.
As the last of his cum flows from him, I gently pull back, taking his cock from my mouth. It is a slow, deliberate movement, a final act of submission, of worship. I lean in, my tongue tracing the length of his cock, tasting every last drop, cleaning every inch of him.
As I finish, I look up at him, my eyes meeting his, a silent question, a plea for his approval. He smiles. As he turns, I am left there naked. Exposed. Not realizing that I was so entranced in my servicing this man that I was hard my cock standing at attention. I watched him disappear around the lockers the last glimpse of his gorgeous ass, my hand reaching down to grip my cock.
And the future…as I wrap my hand around my cock, I turn on the bench and come eye to eye with another man…..
Chapter 2?
