The Motion of Fucking

Today a guy from way up on the Upper East Side hit me up on Daddyhunt and as we exchanged pictures he begged and begged for my dick. He was not the cutest guy in the world, but had a kind of scruffy, woodsy, manly lookin thing going on, with light green eyes (something I always like), and his body shot looked pretty nice. He told me he was the Best Cocksucker Ever and would suck me for as long as I say and swallow everything. I wasn't even all that horny, just idly checking email really... until he said all that, and expressed willingness to hop right on the subway and come over. That got my nuts churning. So I said ok, come over. He was here in a half an hour, and got right to work, but didn't give very good head, to be honest. It looked like he had nice legs and a nice ass through his jeans, though, so I commanded him to take his pants off. He complied, revealing a creamy, shapely pair of buttocks the gleamed down there between my feet as he gnawed away at my bone. A couple of flicks of his nipples sent him into orbit and turned him into a whimpering blob of jelly, endlessly telling me how hot I am, and I wasn't going to get off from the head, so there was no other real alternative than to flip him over, slick up my dickhead, and push my tool into him. And he took it greedily, asking for more!

He was one of those guys who looked better on his stomach with my dick in his mouth than on his back with my dick in his ass. But he was creamy and slick inside and it was rather unexpected to have an available raw ass like this with so little negotiation or wheedling. There is just something about that motion, the straining in the muscles at in the small of your back, in your buttocks and thighs, the thrill along the length of your tool as it slides in and out, that just transcends everything. The mere motions fucking is sometimes enough to seriously turn me on; I'm kind of getting off on the feeling of my own body fucking, more than the guy I'm actually dicking. He babbled a nonstop stream of declarations of my fantastic toppinghood, but all I could say in return was how much I fuckin love to fuck. And it was true. His ass was so warm and inviting that I wanted to cum almost right away, but I fought it, just fucking him slowly for several long minutes, savoring the pleasure of being a man thrusting his dick into another man. I loved it. But when I didn't think I could hold back much longer, I croaked hoarsely, "You want me to cum down your throat, yeah?" and he looked into my eyes deeply and imploringly, and asked me where I wanted to cum. I didn't answer. He just kept saying, cum in my ass, cum in my ass, and so I put all my weight on his shoulders, and sped up the powing, no longer worried about it, enjoying those last few moments of free wild thrusting until the point of no return is reached and the orgasm bursts through, an intensely pleasurable spoilsport that ends the festivities. I unloaded in him deep and hard. It wasn't a long fuck, but it was a pretty good one.

I pulled out slowly and he jumped up so as not to get anything on the bed. I washed my proud, conquering tool and then he slipped into the bathroom to do his thing; when he emerged he said starry-eyed, "That was a LOT of CUM." I deliver, what can I say.

Turns out we're both from the south, from neighboring states, and have been with our partners the same amount of time. He was an awfully nice guy, and he went back to the Upper East Side nicely loaded up with spooge, so I guess I did my good deed for the day. He wasn't the hottest guy in the world but he did manage to get me off pretty hard, and I can't complain about that!