Ass

Today I fucked my cum into a guy who was laughably unlike his picture/profile. In the profile he was a 5'11, tightly muscular, very Sicilian-looking guido type, with a very shapely little body, all torso and shoulders and protrusive nipples. He looked and acted pretty fuckin dumb online, but the overall effect was turning me on. My boss was out today and there wasn't a lot to do, so I had gorged myself on porn and wasted a bunch of time talking to a 22 year old with a heartbreaking pair of buttocks on Grindr-- I think I looked at the picture he sent me about 59 times with my dick getting harder and harder each time-- who in the end was the kind of Manhattanite who would not come into Brooklyn on principle, even though he was exactly one subway stop from me. I pretty much sent myself into a horny spiral after this and felt a deep, mindless need to just rut my brains out. The Supposed Guido came along just in time, so I ran up to Hell's Kitchen to plow him. "Get that ass minty fresh for me," I texted him as I was leaving for the subway. "I'm gonna eat it till yer crosseyed." One the way up beautiful, bountiful man-ass seemed to be everywhere, taunting me with its closeness but its inaccessibility. I get so fuckin horny in the fall, it's crazy. The train ride was mercifully fast. He was in a part of Hells Kitchen that was not too far from the subway. Things were looking up. And then he opened the door.

It was a joke. He looked absolutely nothing like the picture; he didn't even look Italian to me, despite that being the main part of his screen name on BBRTS. He was not 5'11-- he was more like 6'3, I'd say, if not a little taller, even. His body was reasonably tight but not what I'd call muscular, and certainly not shaped like the guido in the picture; he was pretty white-boy, straight-up-and-down with tiny flat pink nipples. He opened the door wearing a jockstrap (ugh, enough with the jockstraps) and a wifebeater and a baseball cap. He had a soul patch and looked like a complete stoner. My heart sank. But then he turned around to lead me into his little studio, and I got a look at the ass.

Holy fuck, the ass. The motherfucking ass. Taught, high, round, completely hairless and white, meaty, ample, beckoning ass cheeks, all for me!

Suddenly nothing else mattered. He muttered something stonery and went over to his TV and bent over a bit to fiddle with putting on porn I had no interest in and never looked at. I wasn't going to waste any time, but just dove right in-- I still had my shoes and clothes on, but pulled of my jacket, threw aside my cap, and whipped off my watch, and knelt down behind him and rubbed my face over his right cheek.

That amazing sensation, that world of globular flesh. I bit into the plumpest part a little and slowly shook my head back and forth with it in my teeth. He stayed bent over and made a small noise, but then planted his feet a little more sturdily apart, and just let me do my thing. And I was all over this fucking ass.

When I was going through puberty, and beating off to underwear ads in my mother's People Magazine, I had no interest in men's asses. I was all about the bulge, mesmerized by the bulge. In the late 70s there was a sort of "buns" mania thing going on, where women were always talking about men's buns buns buns, and I thought it was idiotic. Well into my teenage years I was perplexed at what appeal there was to that part of a guy's body. I endlessly fantasized about dick.

I still love looking at dick, of course-- there is nothing more beautiful in this world than a beautiful dick. But an ass is another thing. A beautiful ass now has an electric hold on me; I have actually trained myself to the point that I can tell from the fit of a guy's pants in front, as he walks toward me in the street, how well I'm going to be rewarded if I turn around to look at him going. The anticipation, when I see that particular fit, is exciting out of all proportion, and when I turn around and see the back of his pants filled out in that majestic, masculine way, it's like half my brain shuts off in rapt admiration.

Back to the studio with the Supposed Guido. I pulled my dick out of my fly to stroke myself, and just ate and ate and ate, licking greedily at his hole, his taint, his fuzzy thick balls. His dick was completely flaccid and very small in the jock. I pulled it out anyway and tugged on it while I worked over his mighty globes. His legs were actually pretty muscular, roughly hairy unlike the rest of him, and hard as marble. The contrast between these hard hairy legs and his supple, giving, supernaturally smooth assmeat was an intense turn-on, and I gripped his hard calves firmly and stroked them up and down. Then I tugged his dick some more. He was definitely a grower. As I worked my tongue up his rear all up and down and in and out, he thickened and grew into an extremely thrilling, superfat, mushroom-crowned and mouth-watering choad. Feeling a man get hard in my hand from what I do to his ass never fails to make me hard as a rock myself, and his growing dick was so meaty and smooth and beautifully shaped that I had to put it in my mouth. With him still bent over the TV I alternated sucking his fat dickhead, sucking his balls into my mouth, and sucking his big buttocks into my mouth. Up and down, over and over.

Then I led him over to the bed, had him get on all fours, and prepped him for my dick, pushing my tongue into him as deep as I could. He was pretty supple and accepting there. So I stood up and slid in my bone in one fluid motion that made me feel like I would cum instantly. To avoid getting too excited I just pushed it in as deep as it would go, and pulled his shoulders down so he would be completely impaled on me, and for good measure pushed his goofy stoner face, still wearing that stupid ball cap, into the bedclothes. Which he loved. He pushed his ass back against me, wanting to be full of cock, and hiked his hips up and down so my dick waved back and forth inside him. This was too much for me so I pulled out, crouched down, and put my face back into that gluteal wonderland. And I went back and forth, running my inches into and out of him until I got close, then crouching to eat, and back and forth. Then I rode him high, with my feet on his long calves and my dick fucking straight down into him, and all my weight balanced on my hands on his shoulder blades, and he bucked into me wildly, fucking himself with my dick like an inanimate instrument. "That's gonna make me cum," I warned, and he stopped, but it was too late. So I just started pounding him like he obviously wanted, and kept it up all through my liquid eruption, unloading everything I had into him. I kept pounding even after the pulsing was done. He seemed happy. It did not last near long enough, maybe 15, 20 minutes all together.

I slapped his ass and laughed and apologized for cumming so fast, and he said "It was good for me." I cleaned up my dick with some very artificial smelling apple hand soap; now my dick smells like a cocktail in a gay bar in 2003. I saw a guitar in the corner and we chatted a bit about playing (I've tried to teach myself but I suck, despite being able to play other things). He was really just not a bright person and has obviously smoked way, way too much pot. He lures guys up with a ridiculous photograph that no one would think was him. But he kept parading around with those shining buttocks out, and all I could think was that I wish my face was still in them. I still do.

All worth it for ass!