“You aren’t going to say hello?”
My neighbor’s friend’s voice. The neighbor’s friend who’d down-low made it known in the country club locker room that he could use a blow-job because his wife didn’t put-out. That he knew gay guys got off on big straight dicks. The friend who was a doppelgänger for Alexander Sarsgard and no gay guy but one who’d sucked his dick on the down-low wouldn’t say hi to his stunningly handsome face if he passed him in public.
“Oh hey man,” I said and put out my hand to shake. “Preoccupied with what I need to pick-up and not much time,” I added as our firm grips matched and those teal eyes bored into mine.
“As I recall it didn’t take much time last time,” he said suggestively.
It hadn’t; five minutes maybe if you count the remaining time undressing at the lockers and travel time from there to a shower stall. “Most men don’t claim that as a virtue,” I joked.
“I’m not most men,” he retorted in a clearly bedroom voice. “You know where the men’s room is?”
I instinctively turned and brought my arm up to point to the center and back of the store. “It’s … “ I stopped when I saw his DUH look. “I gave you my number. You still have it?”
“Probably,” he said dismissively. He made no move to check his phone; he definitely had it.
“Text me which stall. I’ll knock once.”
“Or I could just leave it open and let whatever hungry cocksucker opens it to have the pleasure.”
“Make no mistake; the pleasure was all yours,” I snapped back.
“Five minutes,” he said and turned and walked away. Just as cocky as he’d been at my country club two years ago.
Then:
“I’ll head back to the locker room with Al; I’ll be a bear or three ahead by the time you finish watching Bess and Angie play.
Dan had been playing my neighbor Tom and their wives were still playing a few courts over. I’d finished a match with the pro and ran into Tom and Dan as they left their court. Tom had introduced me to his straight friend casually; “My next-door neighbor Al Sherbourne. Is Kent playing,” he asked me and turned back to Dan Wilder. “Al’s husband; together they’re the best players in the club.”
I was doing my best not to pop a woody right there. I held it together enough to tell them both Kent was at home working.
Dan was the spitting image of Alexander Skarsgard right down to his prominent bulge, up to the blond chest hair at the open neck of his Burberry tennis polo, and on up to his height of six-four or so; I’d soon find out if his bulge was real or a prosthesis like Skarsgard has admitted to wearing in some famous scenes.
It wasn’t a prosthesis; thick in its soft state, framed by a luscious blond bush, and hanging heavy over big balls. He turned to me when he was completely naked and asked, “Are you a gay guy who likes straight cock?” He gave the dick in question a little caress and I watched if sway for a moment tantalizing me.
We were in the shower stall in moments. He told me when the door shut that his wife didn’t “put-out.” I didn’t give a shit and sucked that deliciously sweaty dick in feeling it harden instantly. “Oh man; you gay guys know how to treat a cock!”
Veiny enough to enjoy the texture on my lips and tongue; hard as nails, not curved in the slightest but jutting upwards so scraping the head along the roof of my mouth as I took more in. Pre-cum flowing copiously almost immediately; savored that and feeling more surge out of his slit as I sucked and licked. I gave it a better cleaning than the shower would later.
He jolted when I went for all of it and stumbled back a step to thud against the tile and slapped both hands flat. As long as my husband’s nearly nine inches but not nearly as thick; piece of cake and tasted better than cake (but not better thank Kent!). He exclaimed at my skill when I throated him that easily; said nobody had throated him that easily the first time and few had been able to at all. Amateurs!
He lasted a few minutes before he was sucking breaths raggedly and his legs were shaking; I felt his groin and lower an hairs sticky from sweat and now tickling my forehead as he shuddered. “I’m close. You swallow?”
I responded by taking his butt cheeks and pulling him harder against me. I worked that knob with my throat muscles and my tongue massaged his root. He swore and clamped his hands on my shoulders. Then with a strangled moan his dick was thicker and harder and his body was completely flexed motionless. When he blew it was a strong convulsion in my throat. And again.
I pulled back and felt a torrent in my mouth. I rubbed his sac and he gasped; his balls were completely disappeared up inside him but the taut wrinkled skin responded.
He kept blowing and I kept swallowing and licking his widely flanged head. He shuddered and convulsed until he finally pushed me off and protested in a whisper that he was “way too sensitive dude,” with a grin and a caress to my face which surprised me.
Ultimately he’d blown a memorable wad of strongly-flavored seed. He’d also left quickly after the caress.
We met at the lockers again after our shower. I offered him my phone number and he took it on his phone; he didn’t offer his. He thanked me; it clearly wasn’t for my number.
And that was that. I walked back to the house with a stupid grin on my face and a spring in my step in the mid-nineties heat and high humidity; people passed who were wilting.
At home I made quick work of greeting our exuberant puppy (technically no longer having passed the two year mark) and hugged him with gratitude for him and everything else in the world. I made my way to my husband Kent with a man’s cum still strong in my mouth from a rando he didn’t know. Kent was fucking me in seconds; even more excited than I had been to get my mouth around Dan in the country club shower. I blew in less than two minutes … the first time.
Now:
My phone did buzz from a number I didn’t know. “Handycapped unlocked” Could I blow an illiterate guy? You bet your ass I could blow that hunk again!
There were two guys at the urinals but I walked purposefully to the handicapped stall. Dan was standing there with his Prada walking shorts open at the waist, unzipped, and his heavy balls and half-hard big dick out.
His cocky grin went pale when I used my phone in hand to take a pic of his junk. “You … “
“Relax! I hissed as I threw the latch behind me. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered, “but not unique enough for anyone to recognize you.” Well his expensive shorts weren’t common here in north Florida; but I didn’t dwell on it.
A large drop of pre-cum beaded at the slit and beckoned me; I restrained myself momentarily. I also decided against sending the pic to Kent and Daniel who were working in the yard at home and all sweaty and tasty.
I stepped around him, took his hard-on shaft in a light grip careful not to disturb his nectar, and swiveled him as I sat down on the toilet seat and leaned forward to sniff his dick behind his head. Not as pungent at the other time I’d blown him; but sweaty from our ninety-three degree day.
I like licked the pre off his head with the gentlest swipe of my tongue. He sucked in breath and his dick twitched and produced more. That I sucked free with a pucker on the end of his knob only. “Damn!” he whispered.
Like before he grunted and grabbed for purchase when his fat knob went down my throat. “Fuck Al!” he gasped louder than he should have.
I worked him fast and hard and this time he had one hand on my head and the other gripping the handicap rail to steady himself. This time I kept hold of his heavy hairy balls and worked them in my hand and felt his dick throb differently with different pressure and tension on them and his sac.
When I very quickly felt the increased flare of his knob that I knew signaled his imminent release I backed off. “The fuck?” he nearly cried again too loud. But I moved my head down and forward again and pulled his twin mounds forward to lick. He then clutched my head with both hands and ground his sac into my mouth and his hard-on against my cheek-bone and forehead.
He was grinding into me and groaning as I really gave his balls and sac a thorough work-over. And when I went back to his throbbing leaking hard-on and sucked the pre out of his tip again and the heavy flow from under his knob he wheezed.
I took him in again balls-deep, worked his shaft with my tongue, worked his knob with my throat and vocal chords humming, and brought him to a shaking release that time which could have been an epileptic fit he was shaking so hard. And like the last time I only took the first of many spurts of seed down my throat; I pulled back and worked his sensitive head and frenulum with my tongue as he convulsed and blasted.
I again gave his purple head a kiss when I finally pulled off. I got up, adjusted myself, and he plopped down on the toilet looking like he’d just crossed a marathon finish line. I threw him a wink, made a call me motion with my thumb and pinky to my mouth and ear, adjusted my hard dick to no avail, and left him gasping for air sitting there and left. I’d left my cart outside the men’s room and got behind it to partially hide my arousal.
I sent thumbed my phone and sent “Thanks for sending me to Homo Depot,” with the photo.
As I pushed my cart away and through the appliance section two texts responded.
Daniel: “Lucky git! W’ever you did to it I’ll do to yours when you get home. XXX”
Kent: “Forget the bolts. Get the fuck home NOW!”
My shorts felt like my wet spot was the size of Asia when I peeled them off at home. Daniel’s promise and Kent’s implicit promise both surpassed any thrill sucking off Dan Wilder had given me.
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