Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Subject: Horny Dad Tales: Dads I Like to Fuck Horny Dad Tales Bill Drake The usual disclaimers apply: for adult readers only. Contains graphic depictions of sexual activity between men, some of whom are related. Thanks to Nifty for hosting these stories. Please consider a donation to keep Nifty Archive running. The site needs support for its continued operation. For more of my work, check out the authors page at Nifty. Yahoo group: http://groups.yahoo/group/drakestories/ Drakestories Tumblr: http://drakestories.tumblr/ Thanks to those readers out there who’ve taken a moment to write. That’s what inspired me to write these. Send those comments and story suggestions along: ail. Horny Dad Tales 19 Dads I Like to Fuck I contracted my hips and felt my prick spear into a perfectly snug, hot, wet throat. I couldn’t see anything of his face but the chin, since the man lay back on the bed with his head hanging off the edge. The angle made his back arch and his torso fully displayed for my pleasure. “Ya like that?” I taunted, taking extra satisfaction in the fact he couldn’t answer. I pressed my balls up against his nose, no doubt cutting off the remaining air passage he had. When I pulled back I could hear, practically feel, the intake of air. Soon my cocktip rested against his outstretched tongue, which fluttered against my pulsing dick slit. I let him tease me and catch his breath. “Damn, Carson,” he grunted through the spittle caught in his throat, “you’re hung like a bull.” I could almost see the admiration in his eyes. I definitely felt his breath on my ballsac. It made the hairs of my scrotum stand up on the tips of goosebumps. I smiled and shoved my meat stick back in, this time starting a nice, regular face fuck. McCaffrey could take it, all right. Each time I shoved forward, his cock snapped extra rigid. It was a nice cock, too. Just nudging six inches, thick and hard, with a nice tapered round head that dribbled onto the man’s furry stomach. If I’d been in a different mood, I might have been convinced to sit on that fat daddy tool and let it work me to orgasm from the inside out. Wouldn’t have been the first time. Mostly, though, I like to take charge. ******* I’d been building up my load all afternoon. From the moment I stepped up to bat in the first inning. “Strike!” I stepped back from my batting stance and looked at the man behind the plate. Tom McCaffrey stood 6 foot even with a barrel chest and a gruff demeanor that defied me to challenge him. I was up for the challenge. “You’re joking, right? That pitch was off by a mile.” Our eyes locked for a minute, him looking into my brown eyes and me into his blue-gray pupils. I knew he’d win the battle, but I was pissed off. Two weeks biding my time in this AAA team till I recovered from my leg sprain and got my swinging mojo back. “I call em as I see em, Carson.” Eyes still locked on mine, as if to say “what next?” That fucker wanted me to do something to get me ejected, I could tell. I wasn’t gonna give him the satisfaction. Still, I took a second to admire the view. McCaffrey was my type to a T: mid-40s, fit and beefy, salt-and-pepper hair, roman nose, with a jowly grin. Some umps packed a paunch, but I could tell that ol’ Tom had a nice burly bod beneath that uniform. Perfect daddy meat. I just gritted my teeth and tossed my bat aside and jogged over to the dugout. I did get another look back over at McCaffrey. Just had to have another look at that full, manly ass. I like big, heavy muscular butts. Just like this ump had. I have wide hands, so I like men’s cheeks so big and muscular they won’t quite fit in my grip. And I was rewarded with a sight of that perfect rump, the crease of his trousers curving to the deep crack between the cheeks. Before I could fully savor it, though, Mr. Umpire turned back around. Damned if that man wasn’t chubbing in his poly-wool trousers! I wish I’d realized earlier. Realize I have a thing for men twice my age. Who knows what fun I missed out on? As it is, I’m still pretty young. Twenty-three and a rookie living his life dream playing pro ball. Getting as much tail as I want in pretty much every town on the circuit. Then there are the trips home… Eight innings can give you one hell of a case of blue balls, I tell ya. I showered, changed, and gathered my duffel bag. My teammates didn’t say anything about the half-boner I was sporting. By now it wasn’t an unusual occurrence. I didn’t see McCaffrey until my second whiskey at the local sports bar. I don’t know if he followed me there or if running into him was coincidence. It definitely wasn’t coincidence when he sidled himself up to me in the leather booth with an extra beer in hand. “Here you go, Carson. A little something to apologize for this afternoon on the field.” Paternally he clapped my back with his broad beefy hand and didn’t seem quick to move it. “Was just doing my job, you know.” “Bullshit,” I teased, taking a sip of the beer. “You love being a hard ass. Admit it.” I added a wink to let him know there no sore feelings. Sheepishly he shrugged his shoulders. “Only with cocky guys like you, Carson.” Sitting next to the man, I had a much better view. Tom McCaffrey’s temples were grayer up close, and his smooth-shaven face still had a rough, masculine quality, made even more powerful by the suntan earned by the hours clocked on his job. Maybe it was the closeness between us in the noisy bar or because the man’s hand was now gently and surreptitiously massaging the spot between my shoulder blades. I felt I could speak my mind. “So, McCaffrey, what is it about guys like me that turn you on? The attitude or sheer dick size?” I was laying it on thick, sure, but I enjoyed catching the umpire off guard and making his eyes widen. “Guess we’re past the small talk portion of the evening,” he sighed. Then, I watched his face as his caution battled his sexual curiosity. Guess which won. Slowly, he removed his hand from my back and snaked it down between us til it traced the contour of my thigh, then crotch. A nice, meaty hardon awaited him, trapped in my jeans. That didn’t stop the man from feeling and squeezing and examining every inch of my stalk. “You weren’t joking.” His thumb teased the head of my stalk, which was pushing up next to my left pocket, against my belt loop. “Bigger than you expected?” McCaffrey’s right, I’m a cocky SOB. He finally managed to remove his hand. Instantly he reached for his beer pint and took a couple of big swallows. “Fuck, I don’t know if I can handle you, Carson.” Now it was my turn to pat his back. “Sure you can, McCaffrey. Sure you can.” ******* My first daddy was Mr. Grayson. Neighbor growing up. Stand up family man, pillar of the community, suit-and-tie financial planner during the week, polo and khaki shorts on the hammock each weekend. Nice guy, but I didn’t give much thought about him. I never really noticed Mr. Grayson til his 40th birthday. The summer after my freshman year in college. I was back home for a couple of months, and I almost didn’t recognize my neighbor. Grayson had started jogging almost daily and had slimmed down from a slobby potbellied build to a hot specimen of man. At first it was accidental that I was getting home from my workout right about the time he was getting back from his evening run. Pretty soon, I was timing it. Getting out of my car shirtless and with nothing beneath my gym shorts. “Well if it isn’t Jeff Carson,” he called out across to my parents’ driveway. “How’s our town baseball star?” He was doing cool down stretches, istanbul travesti wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of running shorts and his running shoes. Sweat glistened beneath the scratchy-looking chest hairs. He was starting to get a few silver strands in that brown fur and that fueled my interest big time. Maybe because Grayson was the first older dude I really went for, that body became etched in my mind as the perfect Dad type. I shrugged and laughed, trying not to stare at his quarter-sized nipples, built biceps, or the hair bunched under his arm pits. “Can’t complain, Mr. Grayson. I love playing, but I have to admit I’m enjoying the off season.” “A pretty deserved break. I keep reading a lot about your career up at State. Your dad’s proud, I know.” “Thanks, sir.” I always thought of the guy as standoffish but he was sure being agreeable now. I paused and ventured, “I’ve seen you out running a lot lately.” He nodded. “Just getting ready for a half-marathon coming up.” “Well, sir,” I blushed a little as I said this, “You’re looking good, Mr. G.” Mr. Grayson shrugged his shoulders and winked. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” “I’m serious, sir. You’re trim, you’re in shape, I bet if you weren’t married you’d be getting more tail than you knew what to do with.” I don’t know what possessed me to be so forward with the guy I grew up next to, but something about his relaxed demeaning and smile and his intent stare urged me on. “Coming from a stud like you that’s well, well, Jeff, I’m 40, no way I’m gonna be in the same league as guys like you.” “I’ll have to disagree, sir,” I said, eyes challenging him directly. I was getting off on the weird flirtation developing between us. We stood ten feet a part, a little awkward in our silence and mutual stares. Till Mr. Grayson spoke up. “I’m just about to watch the game. Wanna join me?” “Yeah?” “Wife’s away this weekend. Could use the company.” “Let me get some clothes,” I answered, gesturing to my half-nude body. “Just got back from the gym.” “Don’t on my account.” Fuck, I could swear there was something in Mr. Grayson’s eyes. I just nodded and walked over to his porch and followed him inside. It was all so easy. Grayson went to shower while I settled into the comfy living room sofa and watched the game. I was getting hard, harder than I ever had been, just sitting there in the Grayson living room. I’d had sex with other guys before. Fraternity guys, fellow on my teams, random men here or there. But this was new territory. An older man. A man I grew up next to. A married. He was forbidden territory, and my cock was excited beyond belief. Maybe I was misreading the signs, but I had to try for it. I followed my way down the hall to the bathroom, where I could hear the shower running. The door was closed but left open a crack. I push my way in. “Mr. G?” I announced my presence. “If you don’t mind, I may shower off too.” He pulled the shower curtain back to poke his head out. A look on his face that was a mix of sexual desire and deer-in-the-headlights. I could read him instantly. A man afraid of cheating on his wife, afraid of making it with the neighbor’s kid for christsake, afraid of the complications that might happen if it all went wrong. I didn’t leave room for his doubts. I was too horny. I pulled off my shorts and let Mr. G see my boner. Nice, steel-erect teen college jock boner. What he’d probably been fantasizing about the last few years. Maybe not mine specifically, but one like it. I stepped into the shower. His hands tentatively touched my chest, then went crazy over my body. To my cock and balls. “Damn, Jeff,” my neighbor whispered, “this is huge.” Then, looking up at me with a little self-consciousnes. “Does my body really turn you on?” I think he was a little incredulous. I pushed my mouth against his in a hot kiss. Tongues battling, lips open, full-on kiss. It was my first with a guy his age, and damn I was hooked. Mr. G kissed SO much better than anyone I’d done before. “Man oh man,” he whispered to himself as we broke for air. “A jock stud like you… getting turned on by me. So fucking hot.” Now gaining his confidence, he smirked at me and knelt before me on the shower flower, where he proceeded to give me my first daddy blow job. Mr Grayson became a regular fuck-buddy from that point on. ******* I looked down on Tom McCaffrey’s supine body, the burly chest and stomach covered with dark brown hair flecked with silver. Just like Grayson’s. The fur got thicker on the man’s stomach, til a heavy, fat scepter of a cock rose up in a 30-degree angle. The ump was leaking like crazy on his matted fur, and the dick head was swollen, red, and shiny from the leaking juice. I paused my face fuck for a second, pulling back my prick and a sheen of spit with it. Only Tom reached behind my ass and gripped my cheeks, pulling me deep into his throat and punching his mouth tight against my pubes. All of a sudden, hands free, that fireplug cock spurted a thick volley of seed onto the man’s chest pelt. Then another. I thought of my father. David Carson. Almost as tall as me, with an ex-military build and dashingly handsome, even at 48. His cock would be erect and shooting like this. I thought of dominating his mouth, using my weight and muscle to drive my dick into his throat. It was too much…. My cock spit out its seed into the ump’s quivering throat. I rode my cockthrusts through the intense orgasm, till my head became a little sensitive. I pulled out and Tom leaned up, a big honking smile on his normally gruff face. I’d broken in the bruiser, all right. McCaffrey coughed to clear his throat, then swallowed. “Kiss me,” he ordered, and I comlied, leaning down and locking my mouth on his. I could taste the sperm and spit and musk and it made me dig my tongue into his mouth even more. I could hear the ump’s nasty erection bouncing up and down excitedly on his torso. So I pulled back and looked down at the man’s cock. Still full. I grabbed it gently and began caressing it. “Looks like daddy likes his boy to take control,” I purred. Tom must have liked those magic words. His cock jerked hard in my hand. I had a live one, for sure. ******* My second daddy was Ed Marston. Strength training coach at the university. Not my university, but one in my hometown. That summer while at home, I’d been doing my best to keep up weight training at the Y. I thought I’d been doing OK til I literally bumped into a large, muscular older man at the GNC. We got talking about supplements, then he started giving me advice, then asked me about my workout routines. One thing led to another and the man invited me to work out off-hours at the university gym. The better equipment was great, but the best thing was the rapport I developed with Marston. The man was big and surprisingly in-shape for 50. His build was ex-football all the way, and I could tell he worked hard to keep every bit of muscle tone and bulk as his body changed. Soon I would learn this meant 3 hours of working out a day, in addition to the time he spent with athletes. He had a gruff exterior but with kind brown-eyes. His hair was thinning and almost entirely gray, but he kept it trimmed military-tight. One the first day, I cautioned him that I didn’t want to get a football build, cause it might affect my game. “Boy,” he laughed. “I do this for a fucking living. I know what I’m doing.” We got along great after that, and over the summer I gained ten solid pounds of pure muscle mass, all under Marston’s careful tutelage. I think kadıköy travesti it was a few weeks into my training when it first happened. Just a few days after my hook up with Mr. Grayson, in fact. I was swimming in testosterone and feeling super cocky about my gains in the gym. After a couple of sets on the bench press, I peeled off my shirt. “How am I doin’ Coach?” I taunted as I flexed my pecs for my new workout mentor. Ed sized me up for a second. I couldn’t tell if he was taken aback or had seen this preening behavior a million times. Casually, he reached down untucked the gray polo shirt he was wearing, stripping it up off and over his head. “You’re doing good, guy, but you got a ways to go.” That moment blew my mind. Here was this man, 50 and married, with a perfectly sculpted muscle bod. He either shaved or waxed as there was nothing to interrupt my vision of his hard flesh. There were a few telltale giveaways of his age: the rougher skin, muscles that looked vascular and pumped rather than effortless, thick and heavy nipples poking out from his smooth chest, and a stubborn little bit of padding that kept Ed from having a visible six pack. “Wow!” I muttered in disbelief. “Pretty good for an old guy, right?” He had a sly grin now. Tables definitely turned. I could barely look up from the sight of his bared chest. My breath was getting shorter. “How old are you?” “Turned 50 last month.” I couldn’t believe this guy was 50 but truth be told it was kind of a turn on that he was. It was like an extraordinary feeling of taboo swept over me. All I could think about was this man fucking someone. “Your wife must be pretty happy,” I blurted out. “She is,” he answered confidently. “That doesn’t stop me from being a committed adulterer,” he winked. We continued my workout, but damn, it was getting hard to since I kept looking at Ed. His full frame, his bared chest, the smooth skin. I wondered again if he shaved or waxed his chest, but I had heard that a few guys are naturally smooth, even as they age. I finally worked up the courage. “You ever fool around with other guys?” He looked at me long and hard and replied, “That depends. If they’re young, hot, and cocky, well, yeah, I do.” The testosterone was really pumping in me now. I felt the heat flush my body and my prick bone up. More horny than brave, I pulled my shorts down, exposing my erection. I took a deep breath and spoke. “Man, I could use my cock sucked right now.” I thought for a second Marston was gonna punch me. He was looking at me with such fierce intensity. But he just nodded and got into a crouch position. I somehow knew he wasn’t gonna reach for my dick, somehow knew it was my role to take the steering wheel and drive. I stepped up, letting the hard heat of my hardon slap his face. He gave a soft moan and I pushed in. Slowly at first as his tongue wetted my dick, then more intently I sank my boner into this muscle dad’s mouth. “Aw yeah!” I growled. “Feels so fucking good. I’d like to do this to my dad.” I just blurted it out, couldn’t help it, but it seemed to egg this strength coach on. He sucked hard at my shaft and was rewarded with a heavy teenjock ejaculation. Neither of us could wait for the next workout session. We went through our routine half-heartedly and headed to the steamroom early. Marston surprised me by kissing me full on the mouth, tongue and all, then turning around and backing his beefy coachdad ass against my prick. “You’re trouble, kid,” he said matter-of-factly as I slicked up and mounted him. I just held on to his chest and ran my fingers through the pumped strength-coach muscle, as my dick continued its sexual education buried deep inside this rack of DILF beef. ******** McCaffrey looked even more magnificent lying back, as I pulled his legs up and apart to bare the nice furry dad-trench. The more I licked his hole, the more the tight ring quivered excitedly. Hair was getting caught in my teeth, but I didn’t care. I munched more intently. I thought of the many guys I’d fucked around with. How many had been in this very position? Getting their magnificent dad holes eaten out and worshipped. It was hard to compare them, but this umpire was definitely grade-A Daddy. I pushed hard against his inner thighs, opening up his trench more and pushing his pelvis back. I thought he was gonna come again right then and there, just from my goddamn tongue drilling him inside out. ******* Signing to a major league team was a big life-changer… in more ways than one. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to score. Gay guys, straight guys, married, single, divorced, seems like every man in my new hometown city was eager to make it with the new young bat. I knew my life would be near perfect that first day of spring training. I was signing autographs after practice when I was suddenly face to face with perfection. 6’2″ 46 years old, corporate type in shorts and a golf shirt. Even with his sunglasses on, he was obviously smitten with my form. “Man, you’re good,” he observed. “But you don’t need me to tell you that.” I signed his ball and winked. “if you want to flatter me some more then I’ll be at Sporter’s later.” He smiled and nodded. A half hour later I was at a typical Florida sports bar. Outdoor deck. Definite fratty vibe. I’d barely taken a sip of my beer when my admirer walked up, all smiles. “If it isnt my 1 fan,” I greeted. Now his sunglasses rested on his head, showing a slight raccoon effect for his otherwise tan-red face. He had amazing hazel-brown eyes. “Hi there. I was going to buy you a beer, but you beat me to it. My name’s Eric.” “Jeff,” I introduced myself, “though I guess you already know that.” We clinked beer bottles and made small talk. Honestly, it felt like I was talking to one of Dad’s friends. He was confident but not cocky, and he loved to talk sports. It’s weird when you play baseball, cause you encounter guys who’ve had years to follow the game, experience stories and learn statistics. They’ll only know a fraction of what really goes on inside the sport, but in other ways guys like Eric know much more than I do. I was happy to kick back and hear him excitedly talk about the season’s prospects. The sun was beaming and the breeze warm, so I peeled off my T-shirt, tucking it into my back pocket. Eric’s eyes about popped out of his head. “Fuck, you have a great body!” he muttered. “You think so, sir?” I teased, flexing my pecs a little. “Man, I don’t know how guys can get as big as you and have zero body fat. You’re incredible.” He was talking about me almost like he was talking about the team’s prospects. For some reason that turned me on. “Why don’t you take your shirt off?” I ventured. He looked a little surprised, then shook his head no. “Don’t think so, buddy. I don’t have a body like yours.” I openly eyed his form, admiring the bulk of muscle beneath the golf shirt. “Doesn’t matter, boss,” I replied. “I’ll let you in on a secret. I like older guys. A lot.” I could see it starting to sink in, see his defenses starting to melt a little. “Yeah?” The idea was definitely bouncing around in his head. “You bet. Older men’s bodies a real turn on. I can tell yours is exactly my type.” “Jesus, how old are you? 23? I’m exactly twice your age.” “Twenty-two, sir. Even better.” “Better?” “Dunno. I like the idea of making it with a man more than twice my age.” He shook his head in disbelief. After a pause to reflect, he reached down and grabbed the tail of his shirt and peeled it off. I won’t lie and say he had a taut bakırköy travesti stomach. He carried about 10-15 pounds extra padding around the middle, but the effect for me was mesmerizing. Here was a perfect corporate daddy body bared for me. Strong upper body with a little spread to match. His torso was pale, in sharp contrast to the freckled forearms and sunburnt face and neck. I could tell instantly he’d golfed throughout the winter. A nice dusting of brown and silver chest hair formed a pattern from his sternum to his belly and getting thicker down into his shorts. “Man, you’re fucking perfect,” I whispered. “I wanna lick every inch of that.” I could feel him become instantly more comfortable in his skin and he stopped trying to suck his gut in. Relaxed, the hairy stomach hung almost an inch out over the waistband of his shorts. “You like the idea?” I asked. “What do you think?” He was slowly gaining that managerial confidence back. I liked that. “Fuck, your nipples are popping out of that chest fur, so yeah, I think you like the idea.” “I’m getting hard, too.” “You gonna pop a boner right here on this sun deck?” “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with the hottest recruit right now.” We locked eyes and felt the energy rise between us. I knew we’d be leaving the bar in the matter of minutes. We were that hungry for each other. “I haven’t cheated on my wife in 5 years,” he added. “Was he good?” A smiled formed on his lips. “A little inexperienced, but yeah, he was good. One of my son’s friends.” He took a sip of beer. “Not my proudest moment.” “What’s the harm?” I asked. “The kid probably has daddy issues. Like me. He probably still whacks off thinking of you. ” “You shouldn’t say that,” he admonished me. “Why not? I like turning you on.” He looked at me, trying to think of what to say. I continued. “I think it’s time for you to cheat on your wife again. Come on back to my room.” He was a little sheepish and I almost thought he was going to say no, but he set his beer down. “You gonna fuck me?” “Yes, sir, I probably will.” Possessively I gave a gentle pat to his bare back. “You got a problem with that?” “No,” he whispered. “No I don’t. I should have my head examined.” We started leaving when he added, “You going to call me sir all night?” “Yes, sir.” ******** By this point I was almost holding still as McCaffrey humped his butt harder and harder against the upright spike of my cock. He was starting to get that far-away look in his eyes, and I know that rectum felt snug as his insides spasmed in pleasure. “You’re not wearing a condom,” he muttered, a little out of breath with each inward punch. “No, sir, I’m not.” Matter of fact. No way was I pulling out now. The wet tight rectum felt great against my thrusting cock. I held his legs up higher and took charge, pounding deeper and harder, eager to get my nut. I don’t know what went on the man’s head, but his breathing got faster and his prod of a dick started spurting everywhere onto his body. The harder I fucked, the more his pecs quivered, his gut shook and his cock rocket launched his daddy seed. I leaned forward to kiss him and felt my own prick shoot, deep inside the man. “Goddamn, McCaffrey,” I groaned as I raised myself into a pushup position, my dick still lodged inside his bowels. “You’re something else.” ******** Returning home these days was like being a kid in a candy store. Coach Wes Johnson from my high school days had a bachelor pad he’d set up since his divorce. I’d text him when I was planning on coming back and within 24 hours notice he’d set up a coming home party. There were four regulars: Chief Anderson, the town’s fire chief, a stocky man with a nice set of pecs and a furry gut, Ed Marston, my neighbor Mr. Grayson, and Coach J himself. Last time, Coach J greeted me with just a pair of flimsy gym shorts on. He was already erect, or nearly so. “Hiya, stud. Good to see you.” “Good to see you too Coach,” I greeted, leaning in for a kiss. I goosed his crotch playfully. “How are ya?” “Living large, Carson. The fellas are all here. You know your way.” I kicked off my flip flops and made my way back to Coach J’s living room. Four men sat on the couch watching ESPN. The new guy was a state trooper. Older guy, firm-to-stocky build, salt-and-pepper hair. Big, strapping guy with a gentle giant, Officer Friendly demeanor. In uniform, he stood up and offered his hand. “Officer Drew,” he winked. “Jeff Carson. Pleasure to meet you, sir.” “You had a long trip?” The man was tall, taller than me, towering nearly 6’6″. I got a thrill shaking his hand. He let go and patted me paternally on the shoulder. He exuded a quiet masculinity that was only countered by the eagerness in his green eyes. “Yeah. You get used to it in my profession.” The man stood there, sizing me up. “Johnson here says he has a bedroom we can use. You want to let off a little steam before the game starts?” I looked around. The men were all sitting around, eyes on me. “Whaddya say fellas? Is it OK if I try out the new guy first?” “That’s why we invited him,” Grayson said, nursing his beer. “We know you like fresh meat.” I felt a little guilty, cause the man was right: I craved new older men for sex, and for the last couple of parties they had been certain to set me up with a new daddy or two. Each time was a pleasant surprise. “Stop feeling guilty, Sport,” Ed growled. Marston chimed in. “But if you want to give us some jollies you can fuck right here in front of us.” I looked at the state trooper. “It’s OK by me,” he offered. Our bodies met and our faces connected in a kiss. We made out just standing there in the middle of the living room with four horny middle-aged men watching on. Pretty soon my hands were kneading his asscheeks through his trousers, leaving no doubt about my intentions. Officer Drew broke the kiss. “How you want me, kid?” I thought for a second. “On the floor. Face down.” The Officer smiled and unbuckled his uniform belt and shucked his pants down just to the top of his thigh. His cock was erect and would have been worth playing with if my attention weren’t on another prize. The man lay down on his stomach and I ate him out for a good ten minutes before climbing on top. “Christ, you’re big,” he huffed, as I poked my dick in between his buns, nudging right against his hole. He was now relaxed and probably ready to get shafted, but I took my time, teasing his pucker and opening it up slowly with the gentle thrusts of my dick. By the time I actually shove the whole thing in, my state trooper was open and ready for business. ******** Because of the time zone difference I was up at the crack of dawn. I had a laptop set up on the hotel desk, with my father Skyped in. When the image came on, a young man was already between my dad’s spread legs, sucking his cock. Even without seeing his face, I’d recognize that crop of dirty blonde hair anywhere. Turns out that my brother was taking after me in ways besides baseball. “Hi dad,” I greeted, relaxing into the pleasurable feeling of McCaffrey’s own suck job between my legs. “Morning, sport. You got company?” I tipped the laptop so the camera pointed down where the umpire was crouched between my legs. “An older guy, huh?” “When was the last time you saw me with a guy my own age?” McCaffrey was a trooper and kept his cocksucking pace while Dad and I talked back and forth. Dad nodded down at my younger brother, reminding me of our get together last time I was home. I know my cock spurted a little juice into the ump’s throat. “You miss your daddy, don’t ya Sport?” “Yes, sir.” “Let’s see if we can come at the same time,” he was clearly huffing in horniness now. I watched him getting fellated by my younger brother and felt the beginnings of my own orgasm forming. “OK, Dad.”
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32