I was lying between his legs, my face buried in his hairy ginger gooch, balls straddling my nose, his left hand on my head (as if I needed to be held there!), his right slowly pulling on his semi-hard dick; he was in no hurry and neither was I, having taken way too long to get to this point. I could sense his arsehole twitching just out of reach, its musk strong in my nostrils, but there was time for that later.
He’d had his prostate removed a few years back in his mid sixties and had thought it meant the end of his sex life, which until then had continued on at a merry pace; not with me unfortunately, just “good friends”.
But lately I’d noticed a change, his usual reserve (no hugs or kisses) suddenly transformed into something a lot more intimate, an arm thrown casually around my shoulders, hello and goodbye hugs, even the occasional peck on the cheek for no apparent reason. I liked it all and tried not to act surprised or even aware, careful not to embarrass him or communicate any discomfort on my part.
Then it just happened, casually as if it was always meant to be. Dinner at his place, a few drinks, getting late, “do you want to stay the night?” Bang, just like that! He only had one bedroom, and his couch was hard enough to sit on let alone sleep on, so I knew a shared bed was the intention.
I fumbled a bit, uncharacteristically unsure of myself, and mumbled something like “okay, as long as it doesn’t change anything between us”, which I meant with all my heart, but still felt stupid saying out loud.
“I promise” he returned, giving me that smile of his, and I knew that it was okay. He took my hand and pulled me up from the couch, giving me a kiss on the lips as if to seal the deal.
I was in a bit of a dream as he led me into his small bedroom, wondering if the wine we’d had over dinner had muddled our senses. When he gently pushed me down onto the side of the bed and started taking his clothes off in front of me, I knew that I was very much present in reality, and I could feel my cock stiffen in the confines of my jeans.
The first time we’d met years ago he’d just won the hairy-bum competition at the local gay bar, so his penchant for exhibitionism was well known to me. Since then I’d grown accustomed to casually watching him take a leak with the bathroom door left wide open, or snatching glimpses of his beautiful smallish penis as he dressed and undressed himself in front of me as if I wasn’t there. But I always was there, watching and silent.
And I’m still here, but now the object of his attention, the audience for his performance; watching as he pulls the tee-shirt over his head and drapes it over my shoulder (heavenly scent): watching as he undoes the buckle on his pants, the studs on his fly: watching as he pushes open the denim flaps of his jeans to reveal the line of ginger pubes spilling over the top of his undies: watching as he pushes his jeans down, his damp jocks so close (“sorry, I dribble a bit since the operation”). Watching, watching.
Then all of a sudden he’s naked in front of me, his lovely dick hanging limp and moist, his balls smooth and tight, his slight paunch expanding and contracting with his breathing, which had turned suddenly heavy.
I lean in and catch a dribble from his piss slit, salty and light. His cock twitches, starts to move upwards as I lick it again, this time wrapping my lips gently around the tip of the knob, holding it, feeling it pulsate and throb. With my tongue I trace the darker wrinkled flesh of his circumcision scar, a ring around his shaft which I find hugely erotic.
He pulls away and lies down on the bed beside me, propping himself up on some pillows against the wall, opening his legs as wide as possible, inviting. His cock, semi-hard now, flops against his leg, moist with my saliva, his balls don’t quite manage to obscure the mound of his anus.
I stand and begin to undress under his watchful eye, shy and exhilarated at the same time, sucking in my hairy belly unsuccessfully, pleased when I’m down to my
y-fronts and I can see him studying me appreciatively. My undies are tenting with my hardening dick which I allow to stick out through the flap, the foreskin wet and thick.
“I didn’t know you were uncut.”
I’m not sure by his tone whether he’s pleased or put off, but he leans across and works his tongue into the skin folds and my question is answered. He pulls my undies down and my stiff cock springs out, my balls hanging heavy and low, a strong smell of my sex pervades the air. I don’t often get really hard these days but I’m pleased to see my dick standing straight up for him, my foreskin stretched tight, half retracted revealing the purple knob. Shades of younger days.
“Wish I could get hard like that!” he observes and I chuckle, reassuring him that any stiffness on my part is wholly his responsibility. I take hold of my dick and enjoy its unaccustomed firmness, pulling on the skin and aiming it at his face, as if threatening to spunk all over him. He leans in and greedily swallows it whole, the feel of his warm mouth driving me crazy.
I fuck his face, pumping him slowly at first but with increasing vigour as he pulls on my balls really hard, making me pump even harder right to the back of his throat. He gags slightly but won’t let me stop and I cry out as I realise how close I am, suddenly releasing a load of jizz into his mouth which he swallows again and again until it’s all gone.
“Wow” I gasp, overcome and bursting into tears, my cock still warm and wet in his mouth. I weep and hold onto his shoulders as my shudders slowly diminish, his tongue gently caressing my spent dick, allowing it to soften inside him. I know that he doesn’t want me to withdraw yet so I remain still, my breathing deep and steady while he massages my limp tool with his lips and tongue and I run my fingers through his thick silvering curls.
We stay like that for minutes, hours, forever, until he finally lets my cock slip from his mouth, a bridge of cum keeping us joined momentarily. He looks up and smiles, then laughs at my tear streaked face and I lean down and kiss him on the lips, tasting my jizz on his tongue. He smells of my sex, which I like.
“Now you” he mutters as he pulls away and positions himself back against the pillows, opening his legs wide again and indicating where he wants me, which I already know. His cock is still semi-hard and beautiful, his furry taint irresistible as I climb onto the bed and lie between his thighs. “Don’t expect me to cum like you” he says matter-of-factly, “but you’ll know when I’m done!”
I’d heard all about his dry orgasms and inability to get a full erection and didn’t care one iota as I buried my face into his soft fur, breathing in his strong musk, biting the firm mound of his perineum, licking his smooth balls until they’re sodden before gently manoeuvring them both into my mouth. He groans and I pull down on his soft scrotum with my lips while my tongue massages his plums, eliciting a shudder of pain and pleasure.
“Careful” he gasps, “but don’t stop!” I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. His cock is slapping against my nose and cheeks as I suck his ball-sack, forcing his hips to buck and thrust as I keep him poised between pleasure and pain. He laughs out loud as my sucking becomes more intense, his hands desperately push my head away, forcing his drool covered balls to flop from my mouth with a wet succulent squelch.
“God, where’d you learn that?” he asks breathlessly as I nuzzle back into his warm gooch. I don’t bother answering as I move my face down the line of his perineum to the puckered ring of his anus, smooth and pink and tight, surrounded by a frame of light ginger fur.
He lifts his hips to allow me greater access and my lips taste his hole for the first time, hot and musky, making my senses reel. I push into him almost desperately, my tongue now drilling into his tightness, the muscle taut but yielding as he pushes back, a long low moan filling the air around us.
“Fuck my hole” he demands, “I want you inside!” His hands on my head force me deeper between his cheeks, my tongue feels the constriction of his sphincter around it as my nose, buried in his taint, fills with his loamy masculine scent. I’m fucking him with my tongue, my fingers forcing the lips of his arsehole open as I probe the inner rim of his manhood.
He cries out and arches his back, spasming as if an electric shock had charged through him. I know that his climax has been reached all too soon when his body shudders and jerks before slowly going limp. He sinks back onto the mattress, his muscles suddenly loose, his legs quivering beside me, spent and exhausted.
I lick his moist hole lovingly and kiss it with my lips before drawing back, lying perfectly still between his thighs, listening to his breathing. I realise that he’s crying now, and I cry with him.
“Sorry” he says after a while, “I don’t know what got into me.”
“I did!” I respond, and we both laugh, realising the truth of the matter.
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