gay married man

He was tall, had short wiry reddish hair, combed straight back, stiffened with a product that had been unable to tame a couple of poking cowlicks. His face was boyish, pale skin with freckles, clear blue eyes bordered with red eyelashes.

“Mr. Jones?”

He held out his hand and gave mine a shake – strong, dry, callused. Not the hands of a boy, but I was probably 10 years older. I returned his grip, but made sure his was the stronger.

“Rick, from the cable company,” he said, looking down at his clipboard.

He was thin… No, not thin, but no extra padding, muscle over bone. He wore a long-sleeved cotton work shirt with “Rick” embroidered below his company logo. There was a tool belt that hitched over one hip, crossed his pants at an angle, and hung down on his other hip, heavy with tools. It reminded me of a gunslinger’s holster. I smiled, imagining him closer to me.

“Mr. Jones?”

I looked up and he was staring at me. I blushed, then smiled. His eyes dropped back down to his clipboard.

“I’m here to hook up your new internet router. I believe we had an appointment?”

“Yes… yes,” I said. “You’re right on time.”

I swung open the door, stepped aside, and waved a path for him.

“I have to check the signal outside the house, first.”

He looked up and our eyes met. I felt like I was going to melt. He couldn’t possibly be having the same reaction to me. He looked away, then found my eyes again. Our gaze lasted longer this time, longer than socially acceptable, long enough. He looked at his clipboard.

“I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

He turned and I watched him, in case he looked back. He didn’t, disappearing around the side of the house. I shut the door and made a quick dash upstairs, two steps at a time. “I’m not in such bad shape,” I thought, catching my breath. I slipped into my bathroom to clean up, just in case.

I was proud of how I took care of myself. I had a queer ritual I had been doing for years. I flushed my colon twice with warm soapy water. Then I lightly greased a large, oval-shaped plastic bottle with petroleum jelly, which I inserted up my ass. It had taken about a year to be able to stretch my opening enough to take the wide bottle. Early on I had switched from a round butt plug to an oval-shaped bottle. It was amazing how much my hole was transformed into a 3-inch long slit. And that wasn’t just my opinion. I was shaving all my pubic hair for my wife (she loved it when I fucked her doggie style and my bare balls smacked into her clit). I discovered how good it felt to shave the inside of my butt. I kept shaving until my entire butt crack was hairless. I did my ritual, finishing with massage oil. My asshole felt so much like a wet pussy that I had to see what it looked like. I squatted over a digital camera, bore down like I was taking a shit, and took a picture. It looked so much like a pussy that I shared the “porn I found on the internet” with my work buddies. I was proud of the comments they made about the “pussy.” Several asked me to e-mail them copies, joking with me how they were going to use it to jerk off. None of them questioned the authenticity of my beautiful pussy shots. I wondered what Rick might have thought of the pictures…

The doorbell rang. I had finished my cleanse and stretch and was just finishing getting re-dressed.

“I’ll get it,” I called. I passed by our bedroom. My wife was still asleep taking her afternoon nap. I quietly closed the door and went back down the stairs to let Rick in. He was waiting, holding up a black box.

“Your new router,” he said. “Do you have a back door?”

Caught off guard with the question, I coughed to hide a nervous laugh. When I didn’t say anything and just kept searching his eyes, he blushed. He was even cuter when his freckles darkened.

“I just need to get inside… to hook up… the internet…,” he went on, stumbling over his choice of words.

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t know what to say. Rick looked at me with such concern that I wondered if I had understood what he was really saying. He looked down, pointed at his boots. My heart fell out of gear as I realized I had misread what he had meant. He really did need to use another door to get inside. His boots were dirty and he didn’t want to track through the whole house.

“Sure,” I said, pointing down the walkway to the garden. “Go around this way. There’s a door at the end.”

I must have sounded as disappointed as I felt because he gave me a look of pity that quickly transformed into a smile. I cursed my heart for melting all over again and closed the door.

I went to the back of the house and down the stairs into the basement. I was there to open the door as Rick came along the walkway. He stopped, smiled, then looked at me with such intensity that I froze. He didn’t wait for me to thaw. He squeezed past, brushing against me. I felt the touch of his body against mine, the heat, the electricity. He slowed, a grin on his face. He seemed to be enjoying this as much as I was. He leaned towards my ear and whispered.

“I’m ready if you are.”

Rick walked to the center of the room, put down the router. He didn’t turn to face me, but waited. My head was echoing with what he had said. I shut the door in a daze, fuzzy and unable to think. Rick turned. He took three quick strides and was close to me, again.

“You had your chance,” he said, grabbing me by the upper arm in a vise-like grip.

“My wife is upstai…” I said, my voice cutting off as it faltered.

Rick leaned his face until it was only an inch away from mine.

“Then we’ll have to keep quiet, won’t we.”

His eyes darted as he searched the room. “Surrender.” I told myself. “He’s in charge, now. Let him hunt for both of us.” I started to shake.

Rick saw the bathroom door. He lifted me by the arm and pushed me ahead of him. His grip left no room for argument. I had expected it might go something like this. I reminded myself to become helplessness, to give in. He shoved me in the bathroom towards the sink. He locked the door with a click. My heart was pounding, my legs wobbling. I wanted to collapse into a heap on the floor, but was afraid I would pass out. I grabbed the sink with both hands and took a deep breath. So many years, so many fantasies, and I was finally going to be fucked by a man. I lifted my head to the mirror and saw the frightened little boy staring back.

“Get your pants off,” Rick barked, sharp enough to startle me.

I turned as his tool belt, then his pants and boxers puddled at his feet. He straightened up. I stared at his tool belt. He put his hands on his hips and stood tall. I glanced up. He was proud and unashamed of his cock arching skyward. I waited. When he made no move to take off his boots I knew he wasn’t planning on staying very long. My eyes fixed on his erect cock.

“You’re so big!” I squeaked.

In truth, Rick was smaller than the dildo I used to fuck myself, but it had seemed the right thing to say. He grinned, gave me a single nod of encouragement, staring at my belt buckle. All my preparation and planning, imagining and practice and my hands were still shaking. I fumbled nervously at the buckle. Rick didn’t seem to mind my nervousness, but neither did he seem to be enjoying the thought of fucking an adult virgin. I stopped, took two deep breaths, and in one quick, no-going-back push, squeezed my pants and underpants over my hips and down my legs. We stood there, gazing at each other’s pricks. I didn’t have to look at mine. I knew it was tiny, retracted behind its foreskin, afraid to show itself.

“Turn around and bend over,” Rick said.

I laughed nervously. The last time I’d heard that, it was my doctor, a woman, wanting to put her finger up my ass. I had enjoyed that… I turned, held on to the sink and bent at the waist as I scooted my feet back. I peeked over my shoulder, anxious to see Rick’s reaction. It was the first time I had ever shared my “pussy” with another man, in person.

He stared at my hole. His eyes twinkled with a desire that I understood. He lifted his hand to his cock and started stroking. Surprised, I was suddenly afraid he wasn’t going to fuck me after all, but just jerk off while staring at me. The disappointment nearly defeated me. Nearly caused me to be happy with how he had chosen to use me. But then I remembered what my wife did, when she was horny, and I wasn’t interested.

“I want you,” I whispered.

Rick looked up at me but didn’t stop pumping his dick.

“I need you,” I whispered, gaining confidence, playing the part of a female in heat, the way I remembered it.

I slowly wagged my butt back and forth, twisting my hips so that the sides of my asshole rubbed against each other.

“I need you… inside me…”

I felt silly using such corny lines, but they were working. He slowed, then stopped his stroking. I inched back, bending further over. The air felt cool on the newly exposed skin. I relaxed, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, let my butt relax, my asshole relax. I bore down and relaxed, hoping I looked like a mare winking to entice a stallion.

“Fuck!” he said.

I looked back. His hand had released his cock. I had his full attention, but he was uncertain, confused.

“Please,” I said, “I need you.”

I wagged again, pushing, bearing down.

“God, you’re hole…,” he said, “it’s…”

I felt the warm bubble of K-Y jelly slip over the rim of my asshole and roll down towards my balls.

“Fuck…” he exhaled.

His face was still uncertain, but his skin was flushed red with excitement. If it had been up to his brain, he might never have budged. But the part of him that was raw genetic fucking energy took full control. He shuffled forward like a little boy coming to get a piece of candy from a stranger. I turned my head forward and waited. His cool rough hands wrapped over my hips. The hair on his legs tickled my thighs, then pressed them wider as he moved his muscle-hard legs forward. He tugged at my hips. I jerked when his cock head touched my butt, then shivered as he slid it up my butt crack and over my slit. My whole body shook with anticipation.

Everything ran at slow motion as Rick made one smooth flowing movement – lowering his hand, guiding his cock to my opening, leaning forward, pulling me back.

I caught my breath as he slid inside while I kept myself open and loose for him, just like I had practiced with my cock look-alike rubber dildo.

“God…,” he gasped, “you’re so…”

I didn’t hear what he said, if he said anything, because he was sinking deep inside me. Without any resistance from me, he quickly buried the full length of his pole and banged the base of his cock against my butt. He stayed there, held still, and I enjoyed the moment of my deflowering.

He started to slowly pull out and I pulsed his cock with a series of Kegels.

“Yes… yes…,” he hissed, making me glow with pride.

He pushed back in and I gave him some resistance, tightening up with a pinch of my sphincter.

“Oh, god…,” he moaned.

Playing with him, paying attention to his pleasure, hearing his approval, made my heart sing. And it made him go crazy. Sooner than I expected he was pumping me hard and fast. I closed my eyes and let the wild jerking of his cock melt into the memory of my dildo massaging my prostrate. I felt the familiar tickle. I steadied myself with just one hand and lowered the other hand between my legs. My penis was only semi-erect. I squeezed gently and it released a gush of slippery pre-cum that helped my fingers slide easily as I stroked my dick into a stiff pole. I relished the experience of having a man inside me, having him slide in and out until he ejaculated in my ass.

Rick’s pumping turned into banging. He was slapping into me now. His ball sack swung and hit my perineum like the clapper of a bell that rang out with a wet smack. We were both about to explode. I clamped my hole around his pole. He cried out, slammed one last time, and held himself deep inside me. I felt his cock pulsing as he moaned and spurted his warm, milky love juice. That was all I needed to shoot my load. My sphincter clamped Rick’s cock against my prostrate, and I shivered with an orgasm I knew I would never forget.

Rick was still inside me as I slowly recovered. He was leaning into me, his arms pressing into my back to hold him up. He didn’t move, except for a slight rocking with his breathing. His penis began to shrink, triggering my sphincter to pinch. His slippery soft flesh slipped out of my ass. He straightened up and shuffled backwards a few steps. He got dressed quickly, without a word, then unlocked the door, and left.

I hadn’t said a word, either, and felt a twinge of regret. I stayed there, my butt pointing towards the door. Inside my ass, the walls of my colon were inflamed and tingling, a delicious reminder of Rick’s recent violation. I heard the door outside open and close. Rick had gone. I stayed there, bent over, for another minute, searching my conscience for any guilt or shame. There was none. I smiled, pinched tight with another Kegel. My ass rim closed and a warm thick fluid crawled towards my balls. I stood up. More cum spilled out. I pulled up my briefs, tugged the material into my ass crack, up against my leaking hole. The cotton dampened and cooled as it absorbed the precious evidence. I pulled up my pants, tucked in my shirt, and buckled. I took a step, another, exaggerating the rock of my hips, rubbing the cotton back and forth over my tender asshole.

As I headed for the stairs I saw a business card stuck to the router Rick had brought. It was Rick’s card, with a phone number in pencil. On the back of the card was a scrawled note.

“You’re good to go, all hooked up. Thank you.”

The note was signed, “Your cable guy, Rick.” There was a postscript, too, “PS: Call if you need service.”

I pocketed the card, smiling. Being fucked had been better than I had ever imagined. I couldn’t wait for an encore. I climbed the stairs and my wet cotton briefs reminded me of Rick’s recent visit. “He’s not gone,” I thought, oozing more contentment. “Not all of him.”

May 2018
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