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https://t.me/+qIkl6VOqKIRkNjc0 “Happy now?” he smirked playfully upon lifting his shirt after I begged to get a glimpse of his muscular pecs. He was the fifth guy I had lured into the last stall of the cruisy men’s room at the big-box hardware store that day—and the hottest by far. “Jesus, you’re hairy,” I gasped, my hands exploring his thick pelt. “I fucking love all that man fur.” “I wish my wife liked it,” he laughed. “She’s always wanting me to shave it off.” “That’s a shame,” I replied, dropping to my knees and ravenously undoing his camo pants, his hard eight-incher smacking me in the face. “I bet I like a lot of things that your wife doesn’t.” “Fuuuck,” he exhaled, his head rolling back as I took his cock down my throat, his hairy balls mashed against my chin. “She sure doesn’t like to deep throat me like that.” Grabbing the back of my head, he began to face fuck me like his cock hadn’t seen a warm hole in months. He was owning my submissive throat, abusing it. And I was willing and eager to surrender to his violent assault. Tears began to stream down my face as he thrusted past my tonsils over and over again, never pausing to allow me to catch my breath. I was gagging on his big cock, retching on it, trying to suppress the bile rising from my stomach. “Yeah, choke on this big dick,” he laughed sadistically. “You’re about to taste my cum.” He wasn’t kidding. Instantly, his cock began to throb down my throat, releasing his warm seed. Like a wild boar, he grunted rhythmically as each spurt of his creamy load went flying down my throat. Instinctively, my hands grasped his muscular ass while his balls emptied into my greedy belly. “Fuck, I needed that,” he exhaled, extracting his cock from my wrecked esophagus as quickly as he had entered it, my chin dripping with saliva. “My wife never eats my cum like that.” He was still rock hard, a drop of his pearly cum dangling from the tip of his purplish, spent cock. Never satisfied, I had to have more. “I bet your wife doesn’t let you cum up her ass,” I taunted, dropping the back of my shorts as I turned and braced myself against the tiled bathroom wall, offering up my eager hole to him. “We gotta make this fast,” he ordered, his meaty hands grabbing my hips as he pushed into my warm depths with a savage thrust. “I don’t want my wife to get suspicious. She’s out there looking at paint chips. Told her I was just gonna take a quick piss.” Five minutes later, with his warm load up my ass, I exited the men’s room. I passed him and his wife in the paint section. She was holding up a stock card of light pink paint, cooing over how nice it would look in the baby’s nursery. #sex #gay #fuck #porn #incest

https://t.me/+qIkl6VOqKIRkNjc0 “Happy now?” he smirked playfully upon lifting his shirt after I begged to get a glimpse of his muscular pecs. He was the fifth guy I had lured into the last stall of the cruisy men’s room at the big-box hardware store that day—and the hottest by far. “Jesus, you’re hairy,” I gasped, my hands exploring his thick pelt. “I fucking love all that man fur.” “I wish my wife liked it,” he laughed. “She’s always wanting me to shave it off.” “That’s a shame,” I replied, dropping to my knees and ravenously undoing his camo pants, his hard eight-incher smacking me in the face. “I bet I like a lot of things that your wife doesn’t.” “Fuuuck,” he exhaled, his head rolling back as I took his cock down my throat, his hairy balls mashed against my chin. “She sure doesn’t like to deep throat me like that.” Grabbing the back of my head, he began to face fuck me like his cock hadn’t seen a warm hole in months. He was owning my submissive throat, abusing it. And I was willing and eager to surrender to his violent assault. Tears began to stream down my face as he thrusted past my tonsils over and over again, never pausing to allow me to catch my breath. I was gagging on his big cock, retching on it, trying to suppress the bile rising from my stomach. “Yeah, choke on this big dick,” he laughed sadistically. “You’re about to taste my cum.” He wasn’t kidding. Instantly, his cock began to throb down my throat, releasing his warm seed. Like a wild boar, he grunted rhythmically as each spurt of his creamy load went flying down my throat. Instinctively, my hands grasped his muscular ass while his balls emptied into my greedy belly. “Fuck, I needed that,” he exhaled, extracting his cock from my wrecked esophagus as quickly as he had entered it, my chin dripping with saliva. “My wife never eats my cum like that.” He was still rock hard, a drop of his pearly cum dangling from the tip of his purplish, spent cock. Never satisfied, I had to have more. “I bet your wife doesn’t let you cum up her ass,” I taunted, dropping the back of my shorts as I turned and braced myself against the tiled bathroom wall, offering up my eager hole to him. “We gotta make this fast,” he ordered, his meaty hands grabbing my hips as he pushed into my warm depths with a savage thrust. “I don’t want my wife to get suspicious. She’s out there looking at paint chips. Told her I was just gonna take a quick piss.” Five minutes later, with his warm load up my ass, I exited the men’s room. I passed him and his wife in the paint section. She was holding up a stock card of light pink paint, cooing over how nice it would look in the baby’s nursery. #sex #gay #incest #fuck

https://t.me/+qIkl6VOqKIRkNjc0 “Happy now?” he smirked playfully upon lifting his shirt after I begged to get a glimpse of his muscular pecs. He was the fifth guy I had lured into the last stall of the cruisy men’s room at the big-box hardware store that day—and the hottest by far. “Jesus, you’re hairy,” I gasped, my hands exploring his thick pelt. “I fucking love all that man fur.” “I wish my wife liked it,” he laughed. “She’s always wanting me to shave it off.” “That’s a shame,” I replied, dropping to my knees and ravenously undoing his camo pants, his hard eight-incher smacking me in the face. “I bet I like a lot of things that your wife doesn’t.” “Fuuuck,” he exhaled, his head rolling back as I took his cock down my throat, his hairy balls mashed against my chin. “She sure doesn’t like to deep throat me like that.” Grabbing the back of my head, he began to face fuck me like his cock hadn’t seen a warm hole in months. He was owning my submissive throat, abusing it. And I was willing and eager to surrender to his violent assault. Tears began to stream down my face as he thrusted past my tonsils over and over again, never pausing to allow me to catch my breath. I was gagging on his big cock, retching on it, trying to suppress the bile rising from my stomach. “Yeah, choke on this big dick,” he laughed sadistically. “You’re about to taste my cum.” He wasn’t kidding. Instantly, his cock began to throb down my throat, releasing his warm seed. Like a wild boar, he grunted rhythmically as each spurt of his creamy load went flying down my throat. Instinctively, my hands grasped his muscular ass while his balls emptied into my greedy belly. “Fuck, I needed that,” he exhaled, extracting his cock from my wrecked esophagus as quickly as he had entered it, my chin dripping with saliva. “My wife never eats my cum like that.” He was still rock hard, a drop of his pearly cum dangling from the tip of his purplish, spent cock. Never satisfied, I had to have more. “I bet your wife doesn’t let you cum up her ass,” I taunted, dropping the back of my shorts as I turned and braced myself against the tiled bathroom wall, offering up my eager hole to him. “We gotta make this fast,” he ordered, his meaty hands grabbing my hips as he pushed into my warm depths with a savage thrust. “I don’t want my wife to get suspicious. She’s out there looking at paint chips. Told her I was just gonna take a quick piss.” Five minutes later, with his warm load up my ass, I exited the men’s room. I passed him and his wife in the paint section. She was holding up a stock card of light pink paint, cooing over how nice it would look in the baby’s nursery. #sex #gay #incest #fuck

“Fuck,” I grunted, tipping my head back as I blasted my load into his eager cunt. I didn’t even know his name. But did it matter? He was just another frat boy who came sniffing around for some dick. And I was happy to deliver. “Don’t forget to call a realtor today,” my wife nagged as she left for work that morning. “Ugh,” I groaned. “I don’t wanna move. I like this house.” “You like living on frat row?” she quipped. “I’m sick of the constant noise, the wild parties, and drunk guys puking in our bushes at 3 am.” “It’s not that bad,” I protested. “Yes it is,” she insisted, rubbing her swollen, pregnant belly. “And I’m not raising our child next to a frat house.” We didn’t exactly live next to a frat house, I wanted to point out, but there were about a dozen fraternity house on our street. That was the price for living close to campus. As a young professor, I loved being able to bike to my office and classes. So what if it meant dealing with a few frat parties in the neighborhood? Okay, maybe more than a few. But the real reason I loved living near all those frat houses was because of how many frat boys were looking to get dicked down by a slightly older guy like me. Don’t get me wrong. Fucking my wife was great. But nothing compares to the savage brutality of shoving your cock up another man’s ass. I should’ve stopped fucking guys when I got married, but it was like asking a junkie to give up his fix. It didn’t help that scoring a piece of ass in the neighborhood was just too easy. All I had to do was take off my shirt and do just about anything in my front yard—mow the lawn, check the mail, wash the car—and soon some horny frat boy would pass by and chat me up, eager to get in my pants. That particular afternoon was no different. I was weeding the flowerbeds, shirtless of course, when a twink frat boy passed by on his way back from class, a backpack hanging from one shoulder. “Nice house,” the frat boy commented. Yet his eyes were on my bulging crotch, sweat dripping down my treasure trail. “Thanks,” I replied, adjusting my package, the flimsy material of my athletic shorts clinging to my big, sweaty cock. “The house was built in the ‘40s.” “Wow,” he exclaimed, his eyes traveling up and down my muscular body. “They don’t make them like that anymore.” “Want to come inside?” I offered. “I could give you a tour . . . of the bedroom.” Five minutes later, the frat boy twink was on my bed—the one I share with my wife—with his legs spread wide, my big cock up his ass. While destroying his pretty, pink cunt, I noticed my wife’s eyes staring at me from her wedding picture on the bed table, which turned me on even more, making my cock harder. It felt good to be bad. “You’re so big,” the frat boy squealed in delight, his eyes rolling back in his head as I pummeled his tight hole. “You like this big cock?” I asked rhetorically. “You like this big cock in your pretty cunt?” “Uh huh,” he replied, pulling his legs closer to his chest, opening his hole even more for me. “Your big dick feels so fuckin’ good inside me.” “You gonna let me cum in you?” I demanded, my pace increasing, my balls slapping his ass with each thrust. “You gonna let me shoot my load up your ass?” “Yes,” he begged. “Fucking seed me.” I could take my time with a boy like him, make love to him slowly and deliberately like when I have sex with my wife. But the boy was not my wife, and that made all the difference. His pleasure meant shit to me. My only goal was to fuck his ass and shoot my load. Pump and dump. Innately, he knew that. Deep down inside, he just wanted to be used and dominated. It was a symbiotic transaction. And so I gave him what he wanted, what he needed—my cum. “Fuck,” I grunted, tipping my head back as I blasted my load into his eager cunt, filling him with my seed on the same bed on which I impregnated my wife just a few months prior. “That was fucking hot,” he exhaled as I pulled out of him, my pearly load clinging to the downy fur ringing his wrecked hole. “Can we—can we maybe do this again sometime?” “Sure,” I lied, tossing him his clothes, eager for him to get the fuck out of my house now that the deed was done. In truth, I rarely fuck the same boy twice. On a college campus full of horny young guys, there are far too many fish in the sea for me to want to eat the same catch day after day. Tomorrow will deliver a new frat boy to devour. “Did you call a realtor?” my wife asked when she got home from work that day. She was oblivious to the clean sheets on our bed, the cum-stained, sweat-soaked sheets in the washing machine. “We need to sell this house.” “Sorry, babe,” I apologized, wrapping my strong arms around her, my body freshly showered to remove the earthy funk of sweat, sex, and cum. “We’re not moving. I like it here.” #Gay #sex #fuck #2024

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