Lost

Tonight I drilled deep into the slick, warm, accommodating body of an awesome body who looked a lot like s more masculine Anthony Edwards from ER, leaving him loaded up with what felt like a pint of milk shot in as deep as a load can be shot in into a dude without it coming out his nose. And it felt GOOD. I've been getting a lot of head lately, and have been so busy with work-- and the hookup sites have been so drab and underpopulated-- that I despaired of having this kind of intense, long, connected, sweaty fuck ever again. But there he was on BBRT, of all places, with his handsome face and big hairy body, asking if I would come fuck him right. We couldn't get together till after work, and he was up in midtown, but my partner was going to be late himself, so the stars aligned and I ran up there and I got off… I got off fucking HARD. 
I admit I get a little lost in sex when it feels right. The dude opened the door and he looked pretty good; he's a tad older than me and had the kind of body that clearly had lost a lot of weight quickly at some point; he had a good bit of that loose flesh in spots. But his face was very handsome to me, especially his eyebrows-- and I have a bit of a fetish for good eyebrows-- and the scruff on his chin. From the first kiss, I pulled back and said out loud, "Oh, yeah, this is going to be good." He opened his eyes and focused on me and smiled, a very open smile with a hint of surprise, and then closed them again and leaned back in for more kissing, grabbing my back and pulling me close to him. As if I had given him permission to really enjoy me, by saying I knew I would really enjoy him. Simple things like this, I think, make the difference between a lackluster fuck with the perfectly built guy, and the kind of fuck that makes you feel like your spine is spurting out your urethra along with your reproductive fluid when you cum. I gave him permission to open up, to feel everything he wanted to feel, to let himself go with me and feel that this sex was going to be different. We were going to connect with our bodies, I said, and he wanted to, had been wanting to, wanted to meet a stranger who would let him inside not just his body but something deeper in his soul. The energy in the room instantly kicked up a notch, and the heat between us enveloped the lump of genitals lying in my shorts, making them tingle and stir and swell, to get ready for their part.

I let my fingers graze over his chest, and felt huge, fleshy nipples under his shirt. We were kissing intently and he was grabbing at my waist and thighs but as soon as he felt my hand on his nips, his head rolled to the side and his mouth went slack and he said, "Aaaaaaaaah and they like to be worked HARD." I cocked my head to the side and looked into his face, and gripped his left nipple with my thumb and forefinger, and squeezed its insanely ample thickness, first gently, but with a gradually increasing pressure to test where the thresholds were. As the pinch and twist grew tighter and I pulled the nipple further and further out from his body, I hit that point, when his body slackened and his neck rolled and he had to vocalize what I was doing to him. My dick really jumped then, and I quickly bent down to suck this big fleshy nub into my mouth, swirl my tongue around it a few times, then place it between my molars, find the right little ridge between the rough tip and the wide aureole, and slowly clamp down. Again I hit that threshold, and he was putty in my hands, or at least, my teeth. Another eloquent sigh came from between his lips, and he said, "OK you know what you're doing." And I said, around a mouthful of nipple, "This makes me so hot. I love these fuckin nips." And I did.

All this was making my dick hard in my shorts. I stood up and shucked them and he made motions to move over to the bed, but I pulled him back firmly, and said, "Get on your knees first." He quickly did, looking up at me with those brown eyes, those expressive brows, looking at my pulsing meat and fuzzy nuts and hairy belly and bearded face. "Start slow," I said gruffly, and he nodded, moving towards me with an exaggerated slow pace, keeping an unblinking gaze fixed on my eyes, moving closer to my fleshy dickhead, and only when he was close enough to extend his tongue to just touch the hole in my cock did he close his eyes. He licked me very lightly, making my erection bounce, and then very lightly let my length run over his tongue and enter the warmth of his mouth. Very light, but maintaining perfect contact between tongue and all the best nerves in my fucking rod. "Beautiful," I said, voice full of genuine emotion. "Treat my dick right. Make my nuts churn out that cum, make me feel good and I will give you so much fucking cum." He closed his eyes, sucked me in more firmly, took in all my inches, and expertly tongued me to full throbbing hardness. I was instantly lost, lost in his handsome face, his hairy body, the warmth of his skin, and the promise even more pleasure once I'd mounted and penetrated him.

But first, the cocksucking. We moved to the bed and I opened my legs and he began at my feet, stroking his face against them and running his big, meaty hands up my calves and thighs. "Kiss my feet," I decided to say, although I'm not all that into my feet. But something about how he was caressing them made me want him to start his pleasuring of me at that point. And he kissed my instep, the balls of my feet, my heel, and I felt him lick around my toes and up to my ankle. And it made my dick hard as a rock to have a cocksucker kiss my fucking feet. Who knew.

And he worked his way up my legs to my aching dickhead and he sucked me down and made the cum boil in my balls. He positioned himself so his firm fleshy nips grazed the soles of my feet. Another strangely arresting pleasure. He tongued my dick's hot spit while he grazed my feet with his nips and I felt like every nerve in my body was suddenly connected to my erection. The whole while he watched me with those eyes, those brows. And I stared back at him, openly showing my pleasure, and the better I felt, the more he sucked, the more he wanted me to feel.

Eating his ass I felt his hole envelop my tongue. I licked his balls and I felt him pushing them into my mouth, hard, so I sucked first one and then both into my mouth, firm hairy nuts, and with my mouth closed around the scrotum I licked up between the testicles, along that hairless seam that separates them, and his upper body melted into the mattress and he collapsed into a wave of sighs. I sucked them a bit longer-- there is a great pleasure in having a man's nuts at your command like that, I love it-- and then worked my way back to that blossoming hole. It felt so slick and open, I just had to see what it was like for my dick. So I stood up and put my dick against it and with the slightest pressure of my hips it sank in, all the way to the root. He was perfectly slick, perfectly smooth, perfectly accepting of my meat. It was like a hand slipping into an expensive glove. Amazed, I rocked my hips back and forth and felt the glide of skin on perfectly lubricated skin. He turned his head to look at me-- those eyes, those brows-- and I stared at him with stupid wonder on my face. "Feel that!" I said. "Fits perfectly, feel it just slide in and out!" He nodded and a faint smile appeared on his lips, and then his face hardened again into the features of a man getting fucked just how he wants to be.

And for the next half hour or so, my faculties left me. I was just left with that stupid amazement. Dick in hole. Sliding in and out. Warmth and slight friction. Sinking in till bones bump against flesh. Push hard to bottom out against his gland-- he wants to feel you touching there, touching with your dick inside. Push hard, let him feel it, then slide back out, and over and over. I took everything I could from that position, grasping his big meaty thighs in my hands, holding his torso, cradling his head and battering against his prostate, sucking his lips. And then flipped him on his back and held his beg legs in my hands-- he was wearing tight red knee socks that made his big legs even sexier to hold-- and I sank back into him, effortless fucking. First holding his feet, then pushing his knees wide and pounding him like tenderizing a steak, then all my weight on his shoulders. He hiked his legs way back so my whole body could touch his whole body while I drilled my fuckstick into his guts. All the while staring into his eyes, showing him my pleasure, showing him my desire. We fucked the hell out of each other.

And after half an hour of sweating all over him, I said, "I can't hold back any more." He smiled gently, saying, "Don't hold back." "I gotta cum in you," I said, helpless with pleasure and the need to let go. "Cum in me," he said, and my dick started firing. He gripped me inside with muscles-- two sets of muscles, somehow, one at the opening, tightening around my hairy cockroot, and some other muscle, deeper in, caressing the ring of pink skin just below my cockhead, the best skin, the seat of my sexual soul, gently milking the end of my dick, back and forth, root to dickhead, like a fist inside running up and down my dick, matching the tempo of my ejaculatory pulses, guiding the semen out of my tubesteak and into his body perfectly. I buried my face in his neck and unloaded everything I had into him. And he just took it all, holding my body tight, wide open to my ejaculation. It was perfect.

When my dick was done squirting, I held myself up a bit on my hands to look into his face again, and he smiled at me, and I squeezed the muscles between my legs to make my dick swell and lengthen inside him, then relax. Then squeeze again, little throbs. "I can feel you pulsing your dick inside me," he said. "It's faint, but I feel it. It feels good. I love it when a guy does that." And he squeezed me inside too. We took turns saying hello inside his ass, till my dick was soft enough to just pop out. And we laughed, and I slapped his big manly hairy thigh, and said, "That was fucking fantastic." He agreed.

I lay on my back breathing deep for a little while, holding one stockinged foot. We began to talk a bit about personal things. He had just split up with his husband, they were living apart for a few months. He hoped they would get back together. They had been together just a bit longer than my partner and I; it was a little hard to hear. I resisted the urge to ask for gory details. The conversation drifted to other things, work and places we've traveled. And we kept talking while I washed up in the shower, rinsing off all that horny sweat. He was amiable and friendly. I was so glad I gave him my cum today. I got dressed, and we chatted a little more about nothing, and then at the door we kissed deeply one last time, and I patted his ass, saying, "Take care of my sperm." "I'll keep it in me for as long as I can," he promised. He looked a little sad. After the intense feelings of sex like that, it is hard to surface back into real life. It both satisfies completely and leaves you completely in need of more, something more, anyway. If not more fucking, than more sensation, more heights. But my dick and my cum was all I had to offer. 

I get hard writing this, just thinking of the level we fucked on, the pleasure he gave me with his body and his handsome face. I'm still lost in him, in those hot moments. I wish I could fuck and cum forever. But only rarely can it be this good.