Walking the dog leads to more

I agree to a date with a long-time fuck-buddy this evening. Steven and I get together every month or two and it’s always a very hot, satisfying evening. He’s an attractive guy, a bit over fifty, still fit with a beautiful smile that lights up his blue eyes, and a great sense of humor. When he fucks me on my back and our eyes meet, it sends chills up my spine that go right to my dick.

It’s a bank holiday so I have plenty of time to get ready, which includes running the razor over my legs and balls. I have great legs; I’ve been told that my long legs and small bubble butt are the things that attract men most after they see my pics, especially when I’m wearing nylons and lace panties. Yes, they make me feel sexy and I have a thing for macho guys who like men in women’s underwear. I don’t really go the whole way, with dresses, wigs or makeup; I’m too tall and naturally muscular to pull off any real resemblance to a woman, so I just leave it at that.

I’ve made sure to flush myself out well, because my friend enjoys rimming me and neither of us likes that kind of unpleasant surprise. I shower and moisturize, then spend a little time handling my silky stuff, finally deciding to go with a pair of black nylons and black silk panties that have a pouch where I can keep my cock and balls tucked away for the night. I pull on a tight, black, long-sleeved t-shirt and run my hands over my pecs, tweaking my nipples for luck and because it feels good. I’m ready hours before I have to leave the house, so I decide to throw on a pair of old jeans and take the dog for a long walk just in case I’m out later than expected. I live in a town near a small city, and the forest begins right at the end of my street. It makes finding any local hookups pretty difficult but it’s perfect for having a dog.

The great thing about the paths is that I seldom run into others, and the people I do meet are dog-friendly, so I can keep mine off his leash most of the time. We walk for about forty-five minutes up and down hills and along trails, playing fetch with his rubber ball or with sticks. I enjoy the feeling of the nylon and lace on my freshly shaved and moisturized skin but I occasionally have to pull my jeans up because they slip down over the glossy material and I haven’t worn a belt. The jeans are a size too large since I’ve lost a lot of weight over the last year.

The dog and I are heading back when I pass a group of young men, perhaps eighteen to twenty years old, who have gathered near a bench to drink a few beers and smoke cigarettes. In this region, it’s a typical activity for their age group when there are no lessons. They see my dog, who runs up to them to sniff them out and see if they’ll play with him. This is always a tense moment for me, because I don’t know how they’ll react to him or me. They seem genuinely relaxed and easygoing, so I stop to let them play with him and offer one of them my dog’s rubber ball to play fetch. He’s a squat, unusually broad-chested youth with short, spiky brown hair and blue eyes.

I bend over and set my dog-walking backpack on the ground. Suddenly, I feel my jeans slip a little and I fear that I might be exposing the panties. I freeze momentarily. Their conversation hasn’t shifted, so I take a breath and straighten up again, grateful that my t-shirt is long enough to cover the gap left by the low-waisted jeans. For safe measure, I put a hand in my pocket to yank them up without drawing attention.

We make simple introductions and a handsome young man with dark, curly hair crowning his dark brows and eyes offers me a beer and a cigarette. He’s lanky and tall, probably a good meter-ninety. I feel a little quiver that comes over me whenever I’m with men who are taller than me, which isn’t unusual, since I clock in just below a meter-seventy-five. It’s pretty early in the day for drinking but I accept it because I want to be sociable and I want to feel like part of the group, even though these guys are clearly way too young for me. I could be their father.

The talk revolves around girls and soccer a lot, since most of them play in the local club. I smile and laugh when it’s appropriate, but I don’t encourage them to brag about their supposed exploits. It feels almost naughty to enjoy spending time with these young, attractive footballers, stealing the occasional glance at their firm, tone bodies, laughing at their jokes and admiring their youthful swagger. But I don’t want to overstay my welcome.

Once my beer and a second cigarette are done, I bid them all a great afternoon with a round of handshakes. I subtly slip a five-euro note to the guy, Lars, who gave me the drink and cigs as we shake hands and I head off with my dog after carefully bending down to retrieve the backpack. I hope he doesn’t find the cash offering insulting, but I know people that age can always use a little extra money and it was generous to share with a stranger. That’s just how the folks around here are.

I don’t get a hundred meters down the path with my dog, when I hear someone running up from behind and calling out to me. I turn to see that it’s Lars. He’s got the fiver in his outstretched hand. “Hey, dude, you didn’t have to give me money for the drink and smokes.” Maybe I have offended him. “Well, I thought it could be my contribution to the fun today,” I reply lamely, gesturing for my dog to sit. Lars waves off my excuse and hands me back the money, tapping me on the shoulder with his other hand. “No worries. You can return the favor one day.” I laugh and agree.

He looks me squarely in the eyes and gets a little serious. “Can I… ask you something?” He’s looking at my dog, which is a fairly unusual breed for this region. My dog is about the friendliest and most playful buddy you’ll find, but at first glance he looks like he could be part bull-terrier, and that puts people off if they have negative experiences with aggressive dogs. I think I’m going to have to give my standard spiel. “Sure. What’s that?” I ask him.

“I think I recognize your dog from a picture that’s posted online. If it’s the same dog, I mean.” Okay, there are only two places you’ll find a picture of me and my dog online: Facebook or Grindr. Only friends (or friends of friends) are going to see my Facebook posts, so…. “Really?” I ask, to buy time. “Yeah. It was on Grindr.” He pauses to see if I understand his reference to the gay hookup app. Well, if he’s on Grindr, then I guess it’s safe to admit that I am too. “Yeah, that could have been me. He’s a pretty unique dog, isn’t he?” This time Lars laughs and agrees. “What I remember is that the same guy also posted a hot photo where he’s showing a hint of women’s underwear under his open jeans. Sort of like the ones you’re wearing.” That was brazen for a man his age.

I redden immediately. “So… you saw them?” I whisper and he winks at me. “Hey, I was watching specifically to see if you had them on. When I saw the dog and then you, I remembered your profile. So, when you bent over…,” he trails off. By now, I’ve recovered from the embarrassment and I feel comfortable matching his brazenness—or maybe it’s the early beer talking. I raise my long-sleeved t-shirt to reveal the top of the black lace panties showing above my jeans, which have slipped down about an inch as we stand there. “What? You mean, these?”

His eyes go wide and his jaw drops open. “Oh, wow. Oh, fuck, is that sexy!” The compliment brings another blush to my cheeks and I smile. He can’t stop staring at the underwear on my hips. His hands reach out toward them involuntarily but he has the sense to look at me and say, “May I?” I take a quick glance up and down the path to check for others and nod with a smile. He undoes the button-fly of my jeans and they fall to my ankles, leaving me standing on the forest path in the black lace panties, and black stockings that have an elastic band at the top to hold them up on my thighs. He keeps his hands on my lacy hips and a groan escapes his open mouth and full lips. I glance down to see that a bulge is forming at the crotch of his jeans. Ah, to be that young again!

“Oh, man. You’re making me hard just looking at you,” he tells me. “Do you wanna…?” he asks, gesturing at his crotch. “I do,” I reply eagerly, “but two things. One, not right here on the path. You can see us for a hundred meters in either direction. And two, please don’t ask. I know I’m older than you, but I like a guy who tells me what to do. What do you think?” Normally, I’d have already “screened” a potential sex partner over the app to see if they like what I like, but I’m not going to look this gift horse in the mouth, especially when it seems this young man might be a horse indeed.

A low growl escapes his lips and I see a dark spot appear at the tip of his widening bulge. His brow creases and there’s a flash in his dark eyes when he looks up at me and says, “Then get your ass to the bottom of this ravine where we’ll have a little privacy. And get out of those jeans.” I smile and answer, “Yes, sir,” before making my way down the steep animal track to the bottom of the ravine nearby. It’s fairly overgrown at the ends, so very few people come down here unless they’re mushroom hunting, but that’s a possibility at this time of year.

My dog anticipates more playtime, so I find a thick stick for him to chew on to keep him occupied. The thought crosses my mind that I might have a thick stick to play with, too, and I feel warm all over. I have a thin dog blanket in the backpack that I sometimes use for sunbathing when I’m on long dog walks. I lay it on the thick layer of autumn leaves at the bottom of the ravine, look around for good measure, and then remove my sneaks and jeans. Lars is scurrying down the path after me, but he stops at the bottom to watch me undress. “T-shirt, too, babe. Let’s do this right.” I look at him and teasingly pull the t-shirt over my head. This is kind of a moment of truth. I may be trim but I’m still a good twenty years older than this hot young man and there’s no way to hide that when my shirt is off.

It clearly doesn’t bother him, because he’s looking at me like I’m a sirloin steak, perfectly grilled. As he walks toward me, he slips off his belt and reaches for his fly. “Wait!” I call out quietly but urgently. “I mean, sorry, sir, but please, let me do that for you.” He gives me a wicked smile and comes up to where I’m now kneeling on the blanket. He holds out his arms in a come-and-get-it gesture. My hands are actually trembling as I undo the button and lower the zipper on his jeans, then slide them over his lean hips and down his thighs. He’s got on a pair of gray CK boxer briefs and I can see the tip of his cock peeking out from the right leg. There’s a dab of pre-cum hugging his foreskin, ready to drop. “Beautiful,” I whisper. He kicks off his trainers and I help him out of the jeans while he pulls his Henley over his head and tosses it onto the blanket.

I stay where I am, dying to lower his briefs but awaiting instructions. He waits a moment before realizing that I’m expecting him to stay in the role. “Are you ready for this, baby?” he asks me, and I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yes, sir. I’m ready.” He nods and says, “Then take ‘em off.” I reach up to the elastic waist and slowly lower them down over his groin, revealing an untrimmed bush, a long, thin, uncut cock that matches his body shape, and a pair of low-hanging balls. It’s a beautiful sight. As he steps out of the briefs, I lean forward and inhale the heady scents of him: soap, detergent, and a half-day of natural musk and male sweat. It’s delicious.

My musings are interrupted when he speaks. “I haven’t met a girl who can take it all yet. Are you going to be that girl, baby?” I look up into his eyes with a smile and he continues, “Correction: You’re going to be that girl.” It’s risky doing this out here. We might not be visible to anyone casually walking along the path at the top but if someone came to the edge—say, to pee or because they overheard us—we wouldn’t be difficult to spot. I don’t waste any time. My mouth is a little dry and so is his cock, so I pull back his foreskin and kiss and lick the crown, before licking the shaft in long strokes. First the top, then the bottom, then the sides. I make a pocket with his foreskin and dart my tongue inside it, swirling it around. Once both my mouth and his cock are moistened enough, I look up at him and wrap my lips around his cock head. I use my lips to pull his cock deeper and deeper into my mouth and down my throat until I’ve engulfed his entire shaft and my lips are resting against his pubis and his hairy balls are tickling my chin.

Before I’ve even gotten three-quarters of his shaft down, he’s swearing and encouraging me. “Holy fuck! That feels so good, baby. Keep going. You’re almost there. You look so great with my cock in your mouth. A little more.” Honestly, I can’t believe this guy is as young as I thought. He sounds so mature and natural in this role. I chalk it up to watching internet porn. I’m grateful for it, because he has me so turned on.

It's an effort to keep him there; his cock head is pressing uncomfortably against my larynx. Because he’s not too thick, I can manage to breath. I swallow a couple of times both to massage his cock and to fight the urge to gag. He groans and then catches himself. “Fuck, yeah. You did it! That’s so fucking hot!” I bob up and down on his cock several times, swirling my tongue along the shaft as I do. Since my t-shirt is off, I don’t care about making a mess. I let the spit and throat sludge drip out of my mouth and down my chest as I suck him off with everything I’ve got.

I can hear his breathing getting more rapid and feel him getting more rigid. I can hardly wait to taste a mouthful of his youthful cum. He grabs my head by my ears and starts skull-fucking me. I tense up, expecting it to hurt, but he surprises me by not rushing it. He lets his hard cock slide naturally in and out of my throat, which I’m now free to focus on relaxing. “You like that, don’t you, baby? You like having daddy’s cock caress your throat? That’s it, stay nice and open for daddy’s long, meaty cock. You want to swallow my load, baby? You want to taste daddy’s cum?” On some superficial level I recognize how absurd it is for this kid twenty years younger than me to call me “Baby” and himself “Daddy”, but another part of my mind is overwhelmed by the previously unfulfilled fantasy of it. It’s like my rational mind has short-circuited and all I want more than anything in the world is to suck this powerful, young Hercules’ cock until he feeds me his seed.

I can’t possibly speak so I give him a series of small nods that doesn’t interrupt the skull-fuck. He gets more aggressive as his orgasm approaches and really slams his cock into my throat, holding handfuls of my hair to keep me still. I’ve bent forward to provide a less restrictive entrance and he grunts and snarls as he floods first my throat and then my mouth with his warm semen and I swallow to keep from losing any of it. “Fuck, yes, bitch, swallow that load!” Once he’s unloaded, he hangs his head and his face is obscured by his mop of dark, curly hair. He’s still holding my head in both hands, his cock in my mouth. This is another one of those critical moments; you don’t know how a guy is going to react once his sexual urge has been met. Will he instantly regret what he’s done and get violent, or dismissive? I remain on my knees where I’ve been the entire time.

When he raises his head again, he’s smiling. The hands gripping my hair loosen and he caresses my face and neck as he slowly withdraws his softening cock from my mouth. “Baby, that was fantastic. Did you enjoy it, too?” His fingers trace my cheek and chin before the index finger rests on my lower lip. It takes me a moment to find my voice. “Yes, daddy, I loved it.” Saying it out loud makes me blush crimson. “God, you’re so cute,” he tells me, sticking his index finger into my mouth for me to suck on, which I do. With his free hand, he guides me to lie down next to him on the blanket.

He withdraws his finger and replaces it with his lips. We’re kissing before I’ve even processed it. I’m kissing a beautiful young man twenty years my junior who is treating me like our ages are reversed. It’s a good thing that I’m lying down, because my knees have gone to jelly and I have butterflies in my stomach. I can’t see it, of course, but I feel my anus beckoning to be filled. I decide then and there that I’m going to have my date tonight fuck the daylights out of me whether he wants to or not.

Lars breaks off the kiss and says, “Listen. I know this might feel weird—the daddy-baby thing—but I have to tell you: meeting a guy who doesn’t treat me like a child is an incredible turn-on. And when I first saw you in nothing but those panties and nylons, it’s like a switch went off in my mind.” I laid my head down and looked up at him. “I felt it, too, Lars. And you’re a very, very hot daddy, no matter how others might see you.” He smiles. Is there relief in that smile? It feels like the encounter has reached its natural end, so I roll over to search for my belongings and check on my dog, who has been uncharacteristically calm throughout this whole thing. He’s still chewing on his stick, which is about half-way turned into mulch.

“Where are you going?” Lars says, laying a hand on my shoulder and turning me back around. “I got off but you haven’t had your fun yet.” I’m speechless. I’ve forgotten what it means to be eighteen or twenty. This kid is already recharged. I’d need no less than fifteen minutes after getting off, and probably more like thirty, if I’m even good for a second round. “Well, I didn’t want to presume….” I catch my breath when he reaches behind me, slides a hand down my panties and squeezes one of my ass cheeks. This elicits a low moan from me and I start to get stiff in my panties.

He takes advantage of my silence to begin kissing me again as he rolls over on top of me. The feeling of his weight on top of mine is delicious and I melt beneath him. He uses his legs to nudge my knees wider apart and settles in, his groin on top of mine, separated only by the sheer lace. He’s hard as a rock again and I admire him for his stamina even as my own, average-sized cock grinds against him involuntarily when I raise my hips from the ground. He pulls away from the kiss and whispers to me, “Baby girl, I’ve never met a chick that would allow me inside her back door. You’re going to open yours to me, baby. You’re going to let your daddy fuck that eager pussy so hard, aren’t you?” From this close, his furrowed dark brows, wicked smile and flashing brown eyes are like a drug I can’t resist. “Daddy, I want you to fuck me so bad. Please, daddy, pound my pussy and make me wanna scream.”

Suddenly, a look of doubt crosses his face. “Is it… going to be dirty?” For a second, I think he means “as in raunchy” but then it clicks in. “No, daddy, your baby girl cleaned herself out before she went on her walk. It’s squeaky clean.” When his smile returns, it melts my heart and I truly worry about my sanity. “Then let’s slide my baby’s lovely panties off so they don’t get damaged.” What happens next is the one thing I really never imagined this hot, young jock would do. He sits up and twists around, so that he can slide my panties down my smooth, hairless legs while maintaining contact between his palms and my skin. At the same time, he squats over me so that I can lick his balls and the base of his cock.

This position is heavenly enough, but once my panties have passed my stockinged feet, he lifts and spreads my thighs to give him access to my man-cunt, and dives in with his mouth. If his balls weren’t in my mouth, I’d scream from shock and pleasure. He eats me out like an ice cream cone and my body undulates beneath him with the sensations. My cock is now raging hard and curving upward to press against his chest. My nipples are standing at full attention. He pulls away from my ass long enough to say, “Get daddy’s cock nice and wet, baby, ‘cuz I’m going to fuck this tasty cunt so good.” I wonder whether he gets his lines from rap songs, but I don’t give a shit, because it’s hot as fuck.

I open my mouth and use my hand to guide his hard cock inside it. I’m so horny I swallow it whole and basically face-fuck myself on his cock, getting it covered in a thick coat of throat slime. He is fingering my hole and making “yummy” sounds on my ass, which is twitching as though I’m under shock therapy. He coughs up a thick wad of spit and lets it drool into my open cunt, then says, “My baby girl is ready for daddy’s hard cock.” He kneels between my stockinged legs and slides his dick into my ass with the barest semblance of resistance.

“Ooh, yes, baby. Your cunt feels so good wrapped around my cock. You like that, baby girl?” he asks, as he fucks me hard enough for his balls to clap against my skin. In case my steady moans aren’t confirmation enough, I tell him, “Oh, yes, daddy. I never want this feeling to stop. Your cock feels amazing.” He gives me that killer smile and continues to fuck me in a variety of positions for the next ten minutes, occasionally adding spit to keep his cock lubricated. Finally, he decides that I’ve had enough teasing and lies down behind me in a spoon position, holding one of my stockinged legs in the air. He gets a steady rhythm going and then gestures for me to hold my leg.

He uses his now free hand to start stroking my cock. “You going to cum for daddy, baby girl? You going to cum for daddy if I stroke your clitty while I fuck your hungry pussy?” I can’t get over how hot this filthy language is coming out of his gorgeous mouth. Every feminist cell in my body should be crying out for me to tell this guy to fuck off. Instead, I beg him to keep going, and he does. I start to warn him, “It usually takes me forever to come, so please don’t be upset if….”

Lars leans forward and starts sucking on my nipple while continuing to fuck me and stroke my cock. I have no warning. There’s no slow build-up. Instead, I feel my balls stirring and a split-second later, I’m cumming all over our chests and abs. A gob of it hits him in the chin as he sucks my nipple. My ass clenches down on his cock so tightly that he grunts and starts filling my cunt with his seed. I’m gasping like a fish out of water because my body is in overload. He’s above me groaning, “So good, baby, so good. Feel me breed you, baby. It’s so good.” And it is. So good.

When he finishes, I can’t move. Every ounce of energy in my body has evaporated and I lie on the blanket wanting to fall asleep in his arms. We hear voices on the path. It’s Lars’ friends out looking for him.