Stan The Man

As far back as I can remember, I had liked big rugged men. In the lower-middle-class neighbourhood I grew up in, my partiality to these kinds of men was not only perfectly catered for but thoroughly nourished. My dad and all his buddies were tradesmen, and all their collars were a deep shade of blue. The men were all rowdy and raucous, and the women all ‘knew their place.’

On Friday evenings, Saturdays, and often on Sundays, all the family’s gathered at one or other home. The men all played pool or darts in the garage, while the women sat a spoke shit in the lounge or kitchen, at whoever one’s home was the port of call, for the gathering. Kids generally congregated outdoors, or in a bedroom at one or the other venue, to stay out of the grownups’ hair.  

At sixteen-years-old, I was the oldest of the kids that were still living at home. The next kid younger than me in the group was thirteen. After having reached this age milestone, I got tolerated in the garage where the men were doing their thing. I was delighted about this because, on Friday evenings, there was a smorgasbord of delicious masculine odours in the garage. All the guys were hardworking, blue-collar men and generally not showered before arriving at the gathering. As a result, they gave off a rich pong. These guys were not cologne and deodorant wearing yuppies.

Although all dad’s buddies were hot and appealing, however, Stan The Man was head and shoulders above the rest. The reason that he had acquired this lofty nickname was that Stan was the ultimate alpha man. Stan was big and hairy, with a booming voice. I got entranced by his bulkiness and thought he was the sexiest man I had ever encountered. Stan was a mechanic and had the most mesmerizing huge, rough hands I had ever seen. He was always sweatier than the other guys and was the major contributor to the magnificent bouquet of aromas.

The thing that excited me most about Stan was that he was in the habit of grabbing hold of me and placing me in a sweaty headlock before giving me a noogie, by rubbing his knuckles on my head.      

The noogie routine always brought roars of laughter from all the buddies as I squealed like a piglet. Little did they know, however, these were squeals of delight rather than distress.

On a Friday evening, at one of the gatherings, the guys were discussing their upcoming fishing long weekend. One of the six buddies that would’ve accompanied the six guys on this excursion then informed the other five that he had a family commitment and wouldn’t be able to go along.

“Why don’t we take Robbie along?” Stan suggested referring to me. “After all, he’s old enough now.”

My heart almost exploded with excitement at the suggestion.

After the briefest discussion, my father agreed and said it was a great suggestion, to the universal agreement of the other five participants.

Stan now looked at me and asked, “Do you snore, Robbie?”

“No,” I answered, somewhat perplexed.

“Well, that settles it. Robbie will be sharing a tent with me so that I don’t have to listen to any of you other fuckers snoring,” Stan demanded.

To raucous laughter from all, my dad agreed to Stan’s claim.

That night, as I had done so often before, I almost dismembered myself with excitement as I tugged on my dick, thinking about Stan and the upcoming weekend. I was not delusional and knew that he was straight. The thought, however, of finally seeing him naked in the tent was more than I could’ve hoped would happen.

I was aware that of all my dad’s buddies, Stan had the least happy home life. His wife was a stuck-up cold bitch.

My sex life up to this point was hardly worth mentioning. At a school function a month before, a guy and I had played with one another’s dick’s and kissed one evening. Although I had tried to incite a re-enactment or escalation of this occurrence over the following weeks, it was clear that the incident had been an aberration. 

After the longest week of my life, the fishing expedition finally got underway on the following Saturday. Although fishing was not my thing, the solace that we had Derek on the trip made me sigh with relief. Derek my dad’s most accomplished fisherman friend. Derek could fleck, clean, and prepare fish better than anyone else.

When we arrived at the site where we would be spending the following two nights, all three of the double tents got erected immediately. Although spring, our weather was regrettably colder than usual for this time of the year. Because of this, the customary skinny-dips by all the guys did not, disappointingly, take place.

The fishing, nevertheless, soon got underway. I felt incredibly grownup as I sat with the guys listening to all their bull-shit as they smoked and drank beer. I was even allowed a beer by my dad. Although I didn’t catch a fish, Derek, as always, lived up to his reputation.

As evening fell, once the fish got prepped and cooked, we finally sat enjoying our meal with the salads that wives had contributed. The conversation also became raunchier, given the alcohol already imbibed. I did see my dad’s eyebrows lifting a few times, but all the guys jumped in and put him in his place, assuring him that I was now a grown man and that he needed to come to terms with that.

With Stan seated next to me, my second allowable beer now also became bottomless as Stan made sure that it surreptitiously got replenished.

Another development that now occurred was that Stan became sneakily ‘affectionate’ with me. After Stan placed his hand on the back of my chair, he letting his paw run up and down my back. Excited as I was by this, I kept reminding myself not to read too much into this. My cock, however, was not in agreement and now continuously throbbed in my pants. 

After our scraps had been covered in a pre-prepared hole in the ground, and our crockery and cutlery got securely placed in a soapy sealed container, the well-intoxicated men decided it was time to hit the hay.

In our tent, which was illuminated by a dim solar lamp, Stan and I soon got into our sleeping bags wearing t-shirts and boxers. I was disappointed that it wasn’t the heat of summer when I was sure we would both be lying naked on our sleeping bags.

As we lay there, the chirping cricket sounds, combined with the croaking frogs, soon got accompanied by middle-aged snoring. I was overwhelmed by the intimacy of our cocoon. Isolated in this small tent, I felt sensual contentment like I had never imagined possible. It was like snug heaven.    

Spurred on by an impish impulse, I said, “It’s quite chilly.”

“Yes, it is. Don’t worry, Robbie, I know an old trick that will warm you up quickly. Just get out of your sleeping bag,” Stan advised.

Bewildered, I quickly did as he asked. Stan now rapidly got to work. Placing the sleeping bags zip to zip, he quickly amalgamated them into one large double sized sleeping bag.

Once done, he said, “Now get in, and I’ll quickly warm you up.”

As I got back in, I instantly turned my body away from him in an attempt to hide my raging boner.

After Stan climbed in, his bulky arm clamped over me as his large paw pulled me in closer to him as he spooned me.

“Is that better?” he asked.

“Yes, much better,” I answered.

“I must apologize, Robbie, but having woken up a little late this morning, I didn’t shower. I hope my pong doesn’t worry you too much,”

“No, I’d rather be warm,” I countered, trying my best to conceal my delight.

“Jesus, I wish you were in my bed every night. That bitch wife of mine always complains about how much I stink,” Stan chuckled.

Much as I wanted to go into raptures about his mesmerizing stench, I remained mute on the subject.

Next, Stan’s massive hand commenced rubbing my stomach in ever-increasing circles over my t-shirt. Once the palm of his hand got to my upper chest, his thumbs started rubbing my nipples with ever-increasing passion, on every rotation.        

Although I started believing that my dream was about to come true, I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. Despite the affection I was experiencing, I was worried that Stan might have a tinge of conscience and abort what I was hoping would happen. When his hand, however, slipped under my t-shirt and continued to caress my torso, my hopes began to soar. The feeling of his rough palm titillating my skin almost made me scream with excitement.   

Next, Stan’s hand moved downward and brushed over the fabric of my boxers. He then let out a sigh of approval when he felt my rock-hard cock. In an instant, Stan’s hand now moved inside my underpants as he commenced fondling my genitals.

Deciding that I needed to be proactive, I pushed my backside into his crotch. Stan had a large beer-gut, and so I needed to shove hips back as far as possible. To my delight, I could now feel his stiff dick rubbing my underpants.

Following this, Stan placed his hairy mouth at my ear and asked, “Do you want to go all the way, Robbie?”

“Yes,” I lustfully replied.

“Have you ever been fucked before?” Stan whispered.

“No… But, I want you to bust my cherry,” I stammered.

“Why me?” Stan asked in a tone of intrigue.

“Because I am nuts about you. Every night when I masturbate, I only think of you,” I excitedly answered, putting all my cards on the table.

“Jeez, buddy, I’m honoured. I better make this a night to remember for you,” Stan uttered with a chuckle.

Stan now began licking and prodding his tongue in my ear. The combination of this and the potent odour from him now brewing in the confinement of the sleeping bag almost made me piss myself with excitement.

As I began turning my face to the side, Stan’s wet lips moved along my cheek toward my mouth. Once he suctioned onto my lips, the most intense kissing session followed, after I got turned onto my back before he nestled himself on top of me. With my head cradled in his craggy hands, Stan’s torso got lifted onto his elbows. It was also apparent that his horniness had now begun to make him sweat, and there was a stereo amplification of his ripe armpits as he hungrily scoured my mouth. As if I wasn’t already in the seventh heaven, the compression of my body by his large frame and Stan’s low lustful groans were incredible.

Stan was in no hurry, and my enjoyment got sustained as he passionately went about his business. 

After an age of bliss, Stan lifted his head and spoke. “Listen, Robbie, there a few things I need to warn you of what is about to take place. Firstly, I have a thick cock, and so your arse is going to hurt like hell.”

“I don’t care,” I bravely interjected.

“Mmm, we’ll see,” Stan uttered with a smile.

“Secondly, I haven’t had a decent fuck in a very long time. I think my wife hates fucking, and every time I do get lucky, all she does is whine that I must finish as quickly as possible, which is not my style. I like to fuck long, slow, and hard.”

“I don’t care if you rip my arse apart,” I again interjected.

With a warning grin, Stan said, “You’re a brave boy… Hopefully, you won’t be sorry once I get going.”

“Stan, I don’t care how much strain I take, just fuck the hell out of me.”

“Okay, it’s your call,” he said as he lifted onto his knees.

Stan now took control of the situation and first pulled my t-shirt off before removing my underpants. After standing up, Stan then removed his t-shirt and pushed his underpants down.  

As I looked up at him my heart skipped a beat as I looked at his fuckin’ thick cock. Stan’s dark and veiny uncut dick looked like a gnarled log of wood, protruding from under his gut. It was the size of an average man’s forearm.   

When Stan took hold of his knob, I was amazed at how his enormous hand battled to enclose around the fat pole. Nervous as I was, the realization of my nightly masturbation fantasies had magically materialized, and I wasn’t going to let it slip between my fingers.   

“Turn over and spread them,” Stan now whispered.

After doing as I got told, Stan knelt, and after spreading my butt-cheeks as wide as possible, he commenced rimming me. The delight of this action was unbelievable. I never anticipated that it would feel so good.

For the next ten minutes, Stan took me into another dimension. His licking and lapping tongue was extraordinary. Leisurely, I then felt him pushing a finger into my arse, accompanied by the sounds of copious spitting. It didn’t feel too bad at all. Sooner after, from the positioning of his hand, I knew that I was receiving an upgrade to his thumb. Two of his fingers then followed, and I was pleased that my sphincter was receiving good priming. When a third finger joined in, I knew that we were approaching the business end of the deal. Sore as it was due to how thick and rough his fingers were, I, nonetheless, lustfully accepted my fate as I thought about the ‘log’ that was to follow.

When Stan finally moved up my body, as he anchored himself on his left arm, his right hand commenced smearing his dick head against my pucker.

“My cock makes a lot of cock slime, and so I get you nicely greased up,” he informed me.

For the next minute or two, Stan now started milking his knob and continually smearing it against my arsehole. As he did so, I could sense a steady build-up of ‘slime’ forming before Stan solidly lodged his cock-head against my man-hole.

Stan now moved with lightning speed, in complete contrast to anything that had gone before. After placing me in a headlock, his left hand clamped onto my mouth. Additionally, his index finger and thumb blocked my nose as he swiftly plunged his knob into my arse.

The discomfort was aching, followed by a dull numbness as my eyes began to water. I had never felt so debilitated in my life as I succumbed to the onslaught. It was fuckin’ sore!

Upon holding his knob still in my rectum, Stan’s wet mouth clamped onto my ear as his febrile tongue massaged my ear to grunts of ecstasy.

Fortunately, his thumb and index finger soon unclamped my nostrils so that I could breathe again.

Soon after, my arse started coming back to life, and I could feel the throbbing knob pulsing in my backside.

“Are you okay, buddy?” Stan then asked as his hand finally moved off my mouth.

“Yes. I’m fine,” I replied.

“Cool,” Stan answered before his large hips began swaying and prodding my arse.

Much as it still hurt, I was soon en-route to an ever-escalating ecstasy I would never forget. As his thick ‘log’ started pumping my arse incessantly, my backside felt like an overstuffed turkey that’s cavity was about to rupture.

“Are you okay, buddy?” Stan once more confirmed.

“Fuckin’ fantastic,” I answered as bravely as possible.

After being given the green light, Stan’s urgency intensified on outstretched arms and vigorously thrusting. Shortly, he stammered, “Jesus, Robbie, this hot hole of yours is so tight that I’m… I’m, gonna, Cum.”

As his body commenced shuddering, Stan pumped his ball-sac slurry into my backside. Afterward, as his torso collapsed onto me, I smiled in triumph, knowing that my sex life had gotten off to a flying start.

To my further delight, as I lay there, impaled by his knob, Stan said, “This is far from over.”

For the following few minutes, I was astonished that Stan did not lose his erection and when his hips once more stirred, round two got underway.

In blissful slow-motion, Stan speared my backside as his active hairy wet mouth kept my shoulders, neck, and head occupied. The sensuality of our scene was mind-blowing, and the ever-increasing ripe smell of his body became awesome.

In a leisurely fashion, Stan eventually rose to his knees and turned me onto my left side without extracting his knob from my arse. With my right leg in the air and against his chest, Stan kept his rhythmic thrusting going as he commenced using his hands to caress my torso. By now, all discomfort in my backside had ceased, and the spearing of his dick had become incredible. I was in a state of ecstasy, and as his right hand started tugging on my dick, and I knew that I would soon be cumming. After announcing this to him, Stan quickly then swapped hands before cupping his right hand at my cock-head, as his left hand continued to stimulate me.

Once I had shot my load, Stan quickly repositioned himself and my body, with me now flat on my back and his knees between my legs. During this process, Stan kept his cock lodged in my arse. After instructing me to place my legs over his shoulders. From the palm of his hand, Stan then drizzled my load into my mouth.  

“Don’t swallow, Robbie, just keep the cum in your mouth,” Stan instructed me.  

After arching his torso over me, Stan’s mouth closed on my lips before our snowballing session got underway. Stan continued to fuck me as our tongues sloshed around in my mouth.

When I had finally imbibed all of the slop we had agitated in our fused mouths, Stan lifted his head and asked, “Did you enjoy that, Robbie?”

“Fuck, yeah,” I replied.

Once Stan lifted his body once more, he now began to solidly plow my backside after again pushing me flat onto my stomach.  

On this occasion, however, Stan’s placed his knees between my legs and spread them to the maximum. It was as if Stan wanted to penetrate me, as deeply as possible.

Having taken the edge off during our initial session, Stan now really took his time. As his torso moved up and down on top of me, from outstretched arms to complete a secure embrace as he shrouded my body, he had begun perspiring intensely. The clammy pong of his excitement also strengthened as Stan groaned above me. Even when he lifted his torso, I could feel drops of sweat plopping on my back.

With his exaggerated thrusting, the ache from my arse was becoming intoxicatingly addictive, and I felt like I was becoming a pain-loving junkie.  

In response, I began to wriggle my arse up and down, further inciting his passion. As I did so, Stan commenced grunting so loudly that I got nervous that the other guys might hear us. I almost felt relieved when Stan’s body began shuddering, knowing that he was unloading once more.

After Stan rolled off me and lay on his back, breathing heavily, I turned onto my side and looked at him. I once more ruminated in wonder about my incredible experience that night. Despite my sore arse, everything that I could have hoped for had come to pass, and I would have on-going memories that would last all my life. Best of all, I still had another night ahead of me.

“You have a fantastic arse,” Stan said as he placed his hands behind his head and looked at me.        

“And you are an unbelievable stud,” I quickly countered.

“Thanks, buddy. Best of all, we have tomorrow night to look forward to as well,” he answered as if he had read my thoughts.

Devilishly, I then answered, “But, if you don’t mind, there is one more thing I have to do.”

The word, “What”, had scarcely passed his lips before my face dove straight into the hairy cove of his odorous damp armpit.

As I began to lick feverishly, Stan made a sound that I could only describe as a human purr.

“Jesus, buddy, You’re a real little shank-hound,” he lustfully exclaimed.

“Mmm,” I acknowledged in return.

The taste of his pit was a powerful combination of saltiness and a ‘caustic’ sweetness. It is not a taste I would recommend, but given my horniness, it was like honey to me.

When I finally finished my task, Stan chuckled and said, “Just remember, I’ve got two pits.”

As I was climbing over him, Stan grabbed hold of my head and kissed me ardently.

“Jesus, Robbie, you stink,” he uttered with a giggle before kissing again.

More purring Stan soon got underway as I got busy on his other armpit.

As I was completing my second task, Stan whispered, “This was a bad idea.”

“Why?” I asked, somewhat confused and concerned that I may have done something wrong.

Instead of answering, Stan simply grabbed hold of my wrist and placed my hand on his erect cock.

“Now, do you see what you have done?” he chuckled.

In a flash, Stan had me on my back as he climbed on top of me.

“Now you are going to have to pay for your insolence,” he playfully growled.

After another brief kissing session, Stan lifted onto his knees between my legs. Next, he placed my legs over his shoulders before lining up his dick at my backside. Stan’s insertion was rapid and forceful, and I thank goodness that I had two loads earlier loads of spunk to serve as a lubricant. Stan’s entry was, nevertheless, uncomfortable, and being on my back made his dick feel like it was twice its size. It took all my might not to cry out as he commenced slamming his knob into me.

Stan again commenced lifting and lowering his torso during this session, as the agony and ecstasy perpetuated.

Before Stan finally climaxed, he scuttled up my body and unloaded over my face and in my mouth.

As I licked his foamy and jizz covered dick clean afterward, with a smirk, Stan said, “A stud has a reputation to live up to.”

Afterward, we lay side by side and looking upward. When we had finally regained our composures and the chilly night air again recaptured its ascendency, Stan spooned me before we drifted off to sleep.

Although I woke up once or twice during the night and felt his hard dick against my body, I did not initiate anything more. My puffy arse needed to rejuvenate after the poundings I had taken.

The following morning, I awoke early to at least wash my head before joining the guys for breakfast.

As I sat down next to my dad, he subtly whispered, “Jeez, Robbie, you stink. I’m sorry you had to share with Stan.”

I simply shrugged and smiled, lustfully thinking about the night that still lay ahead for me.