I’m 6’6″, brown-haired, a beefy man with decent musculature and a midlife round weightlifter/I like beer belly. I’m white, I have a reddish beard, blue eyes. I’m friendly, relatively handsome and… I just divorced my wife becuase… gulp … I’m gay.
I’m traveling for work. I have a couple of the gay apps installed – mild to wild – showing real recent pictures of me. I announced I’d be travelling to the area and that I wanted to explore but I really wanted the other man to lead the way – even though and especially because I’m 6’6. I’ve spoken to a couple men. I need it and I’m… reluctant. I don’t know if I’m up to it. I’ve spoken to some older gentlemen who seemed trustworthy, and some young bucks I’m… just not ready for.
After lying about who I am for decades, I’m not sure who I am. I want to relax, I have secret fantasies about men making me jack of for them, of men tying me up and fucking me with my fat dick waving in the air and cumming on my face. I’ve shared those with some men online. I don’t know who I am in the gay world, and I’d like to find someone to help me discover all that, late as I am.
I’m staying at a Marriott, having an afternoon drink after a heavy workout in the Gold’s Gym across the street. I’m sweaty, but the workout was intense and short. I realize I’m working out to make myself seem hotter for … hooking up with someone later. I gulp down my scotch. Maybe I should get a girly drink to advertise that I’m gay.
I get another scotch. I’m thinking about work to distract myself when you walk into the bar. You pause in the doorway: tall, dark-skinned-handsome, hands in your belt as you smile around the room like it belongs to you.
The bulge in the crotch of your pants is thick and broad and heavy. A big black dick, and big fucking balls. I check it out with one long look, then look away. I can’t stop myself from looking back and lingering for a hot minute as your long brown fingers clutch the large mass of your cock and balls and adjust your fat bulge. I think I licked my thick pink white-boy lips. I look up and you are looking right into my blue eyes with your browns, smirking.
My gaze wrenches away with shame and gay guilt and horned up need. I stare out at the world and down my drink.
I don’t recognize you even though you’ve jerked off to the pictures of my round muscular ass multiple times from the kink site we are both part of, and the video I sent you of inserting a butt plug in my ass and bouncing my balls is in your regular self-pleasuring rotation.
You come over with 2 drinks and slide into me…slide into my booth, setting one of the deep green margaritas down close to me.
“Oh I -” I start to protest, thinking of my workout diet, but I don’t know you’re already in charge. You started to dominate me the second you held my eyes and touched your big cock and I blushed and looked away.
It’s a margarita. You know the salty mexican drink will hide the saltiness of the GHB you carefully dosed into it, knowing my weight from my profile. You have fantasized a number of times, cumming on your abs thinking of me succumbing to your wiles and opening my hole to you.
I look at the drink, “Oh I don’t really-“
You talk over me putting a hand on my arm. “They’re delicious,” you smile winningly with a little bit of sexual domination and nod. No reason to spook the spring lamb too soon.
I look at your winning smile but you can see I’m thinking about your cock. I gulp.
I pick up the glass and you see my big pink tongue run along the rim and think of it under your foreskin. We klink glasses, and I take a long pull. I enjoy its saltiness sliding down my throat, and all you can think of is your balls jetting cum along the same path. You catch my eyes and hold them, driving me to take an evern longer pull, emptying 2/3 of the glass. You grin, enjoying how you are manipulating me, and knowing once I know it, I’ll love it too, or you’ll teach me how to crave it, anyway.
I don’t know it yet, but you can see the future: me in a hood on my knees, naked, with my little boy-sized nub of a soft cock locked up. Me groaning as you tease me with your huge fat dick, me needing to suck it even more than you need me to swallow it.
We chat and I laugh, you telling a few jokes I’ll enjoy from what you know from my chat on the site, and I laugh, reddening more, laughing more each time as the GHB loosens my inhibitions, broadens my grin, allows my boy-like real self to come out, slowly lowers my inhibitions. Makes me crave your approval.
You order a coffee for yourself and when I go to order the same, you cut me off. You put one strong hand on my shoulder in a vice grip and tell the waitress, “my buddy will have a last scotch.” She looks at me for confirmation, and I look down at the table as you tighten your grip on my shoulder.
My dick lurches in my pants as you hold me that way for a long moment.
In the back of my head, I’m hoping, I’m fantasizing about your hands, the length of your tongue. I’m warm and want to be clean and naked, and incapacitated, lying before you. I get even harder. I realize I’m happy. Relaxed. That I like you. Way more than I would admit.
Since I’m not a complete idiot, it occurs even to my slowed brain that there is literally no way to get me this happy, this easy, this aroused with three drinks unless something extra was involved. I wonder at the edges of that.
I look into your gold-brown eyes as I have this realiztion. You tell a joke about sucking cock, and I’m surprised I’m laughing, my cheeks red. But the real surprise is: you’re making my fantasy actually come true. You spiked the drink. I don’t exactly realize it, but I feel it, and it turns my dick into a steel rod in my shorts.
The ‘margarita’ is washing through me like a roar. I smile and talk to you and you seem familiar, but part of me doesn’t want to know from where. Part of me absorbs you and relaxes and would sit here listening to your read the newspaper if you would touch me with your knee and the back of your hand.
It floats into my awareness that you know things about me, you’ve got to be one of the guys I’ve been talking to….
I can feel my desire to do anything you want even before anything happens anyone else can see.
My dick thumps with my slightly fast pulse. How am I ever going to stand up?
I’m telling you about my workout, about my legs being sore, my traps are swole and tight. I can feel how warm you are, you’re so close. I want you closer. When you lean over and lay one of your big hands on my bulging shoulder and massage the thick muscle there, I melt like a big red-bearded puppy. I think I actually moan out loud in a Marriott bar as you work strong between my thick neck and my bunched traps.
We’re standing up and I’m wrapping my sweatshirt around my waist and knotting it over my cock which is thud-thud-thudding like a cop at the door.
Where are we going? Oh, right, you offered to massage my shoulders and my legs if I wanted. i really want you to lay me down and slide your fingers up and down the crack of my ass while you suck my cock, but the massage sounds good too.
I stare at your crotch as we get into the elevator, and it hits me. HorseCock65 is your profile name on the kink site. You’re into seduction, domination, bondage, topping, and a few other things I didn’t know what they meant. You only had pictures of your pants, your jock, your thick black hooded cock on the site. I recognized your hands as soon as I saw you. That’s why you felt familiar when you came over the to the table.
“We’re going to need your key,” you say in a voice deep with horniness, squeezing my shoulder. We’re standing at the door to my room. I pat down my pockets, absently squeezing my cock which makes you chuckle. I think about what state my room is in.
I’m sitting on the end of my bed, nervous, my dick gone small and soft and boy-like, a little nub above my fat bull balls. I’m wanting everything and nothing at the same time.
You’re in front of me again. “There’s a bath going, and I added some… special bath salts to help you relax,” I’ve never done any drugs before ever; I think you mean… cannibis?
“I…don’t get high,” I say, ridiculously, high and happy and floating as I am. You nod. “It’s not that kind of thing. It just helps you relax.”
You look me up and down, and that excites me. I want to relax for you. I want to do anything for you. I want to do what you want. Your gaze on me gives me pleasure, relaxes me. I can’t imagine what your touch is going to do.
The water is hot, rising up from my feet like kindness, surrounding me, holding me. I ease into the big tub, and the grains of the bath salts grind under my feet. I ease into it, my burly shoulders not fitting in the hotel tub and my knees bent to let my torso sink down. The water is sultry and silky and I drift for a bit.
I hear you moving around in my hotel room, which doesn’t concern me at all, perversely, even though my wallet, keys, and work laptop are out there.
My whole body relaxes in that water. I pull my size 14’s out and prop them up to let my neck and shoulders sink into the kind water.
I’m floating in deep dark waters now, all my big, thick muscle going soft, opening, relaxing. Not sloppy, not out of it, just my muscles let go of years of pretending I want vagina and my hole feels warm. I keep cupping my fat balls in disbelief. My cock is a grower, and it’s small and bright pink but somehow I am even hornier than ever. I feel like a prince before battle, I feel like a king on coronation day, like a boy about to become a man. I can’t believe how lucky I am.
“All good in there?” comes your voice and I realize I’m so fucking chill I’ve lain there until the water is cool. I towel off, tousling my short hair, looking at my beard. I look at myself in the mirror. Eveyrthing is about to change. Am I okay with that? the only thought I have is: hurry the fuck up!
The towel modestly covering my pink junk slapping back and forth, and my round squat-trained ass cheeks, I emerge. You smile at me from a chair by the bed like the sun come out. I have a semblance of a thought. You response, “I brought massage oil, and … supplies. We’re good.”
The bedstand near me has almond oil on it and a small towel. My eyes dart to the other one has straps and a dildo smaller than my hard dick and lube out in the open in the room, as if it were totally normal.
I feel the crush of your domination all around me, holding me, making me still, needy, open. I’m so fucking happy.
You look at me, and I nod. I look at the dildo, then I look at you. You’re beaming from ear to ear, looking at my chest hair, my big pink nipples, the bulge under the towel shielding my big, round, furry butt cheeks.
“How do you want me?” I ask you, swaying slightly. I feel so good. I need sex; my balls are full and warm and needing to unload, I need to let go, I need your weight on me.
You look me up and down, and lick your lips with your thick tongue. I feel like a whore standing warm and wet in front of you in a towel. I’m gigantic, and I love the feeling. You clearly do too.
“Face down, towel to the side,” you say in your rich baritone.
The bedspread is off, and the top sheet is soft under me, and warm, and I turn my head to the right, raising my hands above my head, touching the headboard as my feet hang off. You’re a tall guy, HorseCock65; in your gaze I felt seen – not just for my bubble butt, and my white skin, my fur, my thick back, my traps and triceps bunched like a warrior, but for being tall and not fitting on a king size hotel bed. A boy grown too big for his bed. I feel young and pink and fresh and open.
I am about to become a man in my 40s. I know it. You know it. I am pretending becuase the soft control takes my breath away: the sheer horny kindness of it overwhelmeing me.
I heard you rubbing the oil in your hands. Even if nothing else happened – and for a scared tiny little part of my giant self, especially if nothing else happens…I’ll be so grateful.
You start at my neck, with long sensitive fingers at the base of my skull- sensitive, pressing me down, controlling me. It would be very hard to get up if you pressed down there. Some tiny part of my brain wanted to freak out, but some much larger part of my post-straight brain identified that as something to hope for, to trust, to want, to need. And I did. I sighed deeply, out loud, my big back muscles flexing. You groaned or chuckled, or both.
You worked on my thick traps that have been tight since I was 12. They yielded and I moaned, groaned, whimpered, sighed. You worked on my back muscles, my traps. I sighed over and over, and groaned as your big hands moved across the swells of my furry ass. You moved down to the rounded, muscular mounds of my fat leg mucles.
You lean in with your elbows and I groan and moan every time you move back up and rub across my big round butt muscles.
I am so happy, I can’t describe it. If this is all that ever happened, I would just long for our next session, or a next time with anyone. I’m warm, but not hot, from my thick pecs, my abs, through my quads, down to my big pink toes. My fat flaccid dick is warm, my huge bull nuts are warm. You are grazing my big fucking nuts over and over as you work on and between my legs. I can feel that you are not wearing pants anymore, as your warm thighs press on my calves.
You begin to long stroke from my upper quads, bulging and tight, across the yielding mounds of my butt, up the rails of my back muscles, out across my wide lats, up onto my bulging traps where you dig in deep. I moan, deep, long. You dig in and pull down across the length of my back onto my legs. This is the 10th. maybe the 20th time you’ve done this. It feels better than any sex I ever had with my ex-wife, Virginia.
I’m aware that more and more your long hardening cock is sliding across my leg, my butt muscles and nestling into the valley between my furry ass cheeks, your long cock sliding up my hole with every stroke.
I don’t understand how I haven’t cum yet. I am groaning and moaning not just to send you the appreciation of your growing HorseCock65, but because it feels so good I can hardly stand it. I keep thinking I’ll say something, turn over, offer to suck your dick, somehow rise up, short circuit things, stop what I really want, which is what I’ve been doing my whole life, but I am made so exquisitely passive by you, I am a passenger in the most amazing thing that’s happened in my adventurous life.
“Just gonna open you up a little more….” the warmth of your kindness washes over me. I know you feel in charge, dark, lecherous, manipulative, but I’m beaming to you gratitude and hope and need.
I sigh as you reach up and secure a blindfold over my eyes. I don’t want to see this. I want it done to me. I want to feel complete. At fucking last, I need to be a real faggot. Not just me lubing myself up when my wife is gone and playing with her dildo pretending it’s a man, but… a real big thick… well you wrote it: horse cock to make a proper man out of me.
You’ve been stroking my hole, up and down, up and down, the long blade of your hand, your fingertips, then licking softly. Pushing on my taint, on the hidden base of my dick while licking my hole. I’ve been groaning so much, I’m drooling. I turn my head to the left. “Just getting ready for more,” I hear you rumble as you lean forward, running the … 9 inches? of your dick along my wet hole that needs everything. You tie my wrists together, and secure them to something you’ve already attached to my bed.
Fuck that is so hot to me. I had in my head and saw in the fantasies of men online me as the viking conqueror, the top, using them with my fat cock. All of that floods out of me. This is exaclty what I want, what I need.
I wonder if you are ruining me for other men.
I wonder if you are doing it on purpose.
I imagine your dark skin against my pale, furry forearms as you tie the silk tie between my wrists. There’s something weird happening in my head. Some tiny part of me thinks I ought to feel helpless, out of control. But I feel protected. I’m being prepped by a warrior for the future. Drugs can’t do that. Being at my core a submissive bottom who finally gets controlled by a real man is what does that. I’m loose and relaxed, warm, open and I have decades of pent up need.
I try not to think of what the turnaround that makes me – 6 and a half feet tall, muscular, big dick (when it’s hard), big bull nuts, big personality… who wants another man to make him his bitch. And thank fog for you making me your bitch in such an amazing way!!
I’m groaning and panting as your lubed fingers slide through the wet lips of my asshole and start probing my prostate. I hear you panting behind me. I realize the lube you’ve worked into my hole fees so amazing it’s probably not the low-quality K-Y or something straights use. You push your second long thick finger inside me.
I wonder if this is what you want. I’ve read your profile amd I’ve cum to the things you wrote about being with another man and giving him the room to let go.
Something is building in me in a way I don’t recognize. Someone is groaning steadily, loudly, intensely.
Fuck, that’s me.
Your long, thick fingers are inside me, and your other hand is gripping my thick traps, so relaxed now. You are pushing deeper and deeper into me, opening me, grinding against my prostate, close to the opening of my hole. This is exactly what I want, what I’ve looked for. It’s so fucking intense, it fills me with pleasure. My dick is hard and leaking which has never happened before.
As you work harder and harder deep inside my hole, my dick starts to soften, the unfamiliar leaking slows. But the pleasure spreads in me.
My lacissitude has limits and I start to buck against your fingers as you work inside me, moaning actively. You are pulling on my trap to draw me to your fingers, and somehow there are three fingers stretching my hole.
I’m such a fucking whore.
Something amazing begins. A lightness inside the core of me, my prostate powered up by your relentless, vibrational thudding. I get hotter. I hear myself sounding more and more and more like a btich, the pitch of my moans turning into cries, turning into… a wave of pure pleasure that moves through me.
My dick does not cum, which shocks me. In fact, it shrivels and pulls up inside of me as shockwave after shockwave rolls through my body of the most amazing orgrasm I’ve ever had in my life.
You relentlessly fuck my hole with your thick, beautiful fingers, shuddering me through intensity and beyond.
I have the most astonishing sexual experience I’ve ever had in the 5th decade of my life at the hands of a man and there’s no evidence because I didn’t fucking cum. And I feel like superman and green lantern combined. I feel larger than life. I feel my thick grower dick shrink all the way and even my fat nuts pulling back inside my body, totally dry, having not cum but yet the most astonishing orgasm of my life.
I would do anything to have you actually fuck me. I don’t understand it, but it’s no longer about your red lips sliding down my dick or your hot throat swallowing my cock, it’s about my hole and I don’t give a fuck about any straight fucking thing I’ve ever cared about. Or about my cock.
Normally I cum all over myself, get cum in my beard watching dudes fuck and I feel incredible pleasure, but the shame takes over. I wash, shower, scrub it off. I don’t feel any of that. I don’t even cum, but something even better than cumming is happening. Has happened. Will… please god… happen again.
I am totally sated. My balls are huge. Thick. Needy, sensitive. FULL. Even more than cumming, I feel used, delighted, happy, intense. I want more. I could go on without ever stopping. I want to get fucked a hundred different slutty ways. I want it to be you, HorseCock65.
Maybe I said it.
You were making me ask for it. “Do you want more?” groan… “Tell me you want more”… slightly more coherent groan about wanting.
i’m deep in the trench, fully swept away with pleasure.
“Please put it in me, I need it,” I hear myself saying. And I do. I don’t understand what carried me away earlier, but I need a hundred more of …that.
I realize your big hands are on my traps, pinning me to the mattress, and the big head of your hooded dick is already inside me.
There is a man holding me down and his cock is inside me.
I groan, incredible, aroused, intense. You moan in reponse.
I groan long, hard, intense as you push your HorseCock65 inside me inch by inch. Mile by mile. “Feel that, take that, open up, BOY,” you groan or maybe think you groan into my ear.
I’m being fucked.
The long length of your cock is in me.
It pulls back, pulls out, just the fat mushroom hood inside me. I groan like a bitch. I feel you get harder.
I’m plumping up under me, with the slow, intense fucking, and I unconsciously grind myself into the mattress. You chuckle, and grab my big arm, rolling me on the bed.
You push my knees aginst my chest and start working my fat pink nipples. You push yourself fully back into me and I whimper, but roll my hips so you grind hard against my prostate
Your cock pulls out, you grinning at me as you working my fat pink 50-cent piece nipples makes me groan. You slow down and pump short pumps with the head of your cock into my hole. Letting me know I’m being fucked. The intenstity drops, I hope for more, need to be filled, need more. You push down your long dark hands on my round furry pecs.
You’re fucking me. I’m on my back, my hands are bound above my head. I’m swimming in the most intense, submissive pleasure I’ve ever felt.
That bitch groaning/moaning sound is me.
You’re running your huge cock deep into me, pulling it out, and .. Jesus, I’ve never done anything like this before, but I whine like a bitch, but masculine, for your big fucking horesock to be in me, to be crushing my prostate, to be fucking me over and over again, needing it to stop, to make me cum, needing it never to stop, needing everything to continue without end.
I’m hard. I feel ashamed of it. I’ve never been ashamed in my life. You’re shudering as you hard-thrust inside me. I’m babbling, moaning, groaning, needing, demanding…. Suddenly you’re down between my legs and your hot wet dark mouth is moving shockingly on my dick.
I’m grabbing the pillow at the top of the bed, I’m crying out, “Give it to me!” you groan.
I cum deep down your throat.
You cum across my leg, on my balls, on my pubes.
I gush down your throat, salty pump over and over across your tongue as you swallow. You moan, vibrating my dick.
You cum across my leg fur, my hip fur, on my balls, after I pop out of your mouth, my spent little dick, my thick fur.
I need you to collar my cock, to constrain it, to use it. I need everything and nothing and your load’s on me and my load I don’t care about, only that I am not in control.
You grin a chesire grin, pushing into me one last time, knowing I will call you against my own better interests the whole week I’m here. Knowing you’ll swallow my cum and I will take yours inside me. Knowing I need it.
I am on my back.
I am helpless. My hole is hot and wet and full.
You’re all the way inside me, getting soft, but still SO BIG.
You grind against my prostate, and I shudder with a smaller version of what happened earlier, arousing me, pleasure running in my body.
In the past, whenever I came, I would become ashamed of who I had cum in and what I’d done.
But here I was, relaxed, so happy with your cock deflating inside me
I came for you.
You came on me.
Peace. Relaxed. Open.
Not running to the shower, wanting you to lay on me.
I sigh, sadly, as you until me, and loosen the blindfold
You gave me a card with your name and phone number on it. “I live here. You have business here. THIS,”and I knew you meant the small intense way I was feeling, ” is only the beginning,” and I knew you meant the active submission I could give over to you.
I watched you leave, vaguely sad you had pulled out and cum on me, not in me.
I felt no shame, just gratitude and already the need to have you in me again, even though my balls were empty.
Cum in me, sir?