Recently....

His [m 40s] whiskey breath wasn't so strong it was off putting, tempered by the smell of my sweet pink asshole. His whiskers swished my neck and cheek and lips like sandpaper reddening my skin slightly. His heavy tight stomach, hairy and round, along with is strong barrel chest, lay atop me like a ton of bricks. His hand firmly around my throat softly choking the life out of me. And his cock...his fucking huge fucking cock filling my asshole like I'd never experienced before, not to mention for over two entire years, stretched me to my absolute limits as my eyes rolled into the back of my fucked skull. And I loved every second of it......

I [m 32] recently moved to LA after breaking up with my girlfriend of three years. I hadn't been with any man while I was with her. It’s been about 3 or 4 years since I’ve been with a man at all. And honestly I thought I was over cock. I thought I had got my fill in college, after college, well after college. I really thought it was just a perverse phase—meeting strangers from the internet and around town and getting used like a fuckin rag doll and loving it....but I was wrong. It wasn't a phase. It never was.

It was soon after I had arrived in the city. I had finally moved into my own place. I luckily lived very close to a Home Depot, so making repairs and upgrades on my new apartment was a simple task. It was spring, May; the perfect time of year. I was at Home Depot grabbing various supplies to hang shelves, and all that, standing in front of three giant stacks of various plant soils trying to figure out which was best for the new palms and succulents I had bought.

"whaddayou got?"

"Hmm?" I muttered as I looked toward whoever was speaking to me.

"What're you plantin', son?"

Now, I don't know about anyone reading this, but I find that to be a very forward use of speech; calling a perfect stranger "son". So needless to say I looked at this man sternly as I replied, "cacti, some succulents and palms." He looked at me and held my gaze longer than any platonic gaze could ever fathom to last. At first I didn't recognize it, so distanced from dick, from what I used to do, from giving in to my deepest desires of being on all fours and taking as much cock as I could possibly handle and then some. But quickly I realized as he began to grab bags of soil for me and put them in my cart...that this man wanted to fuck me. He was flirting sure, but I knew his lust. I could smell it. He would have ripped my blue jeans in two right there with his massive hairy forearms and spit on my asshole and stuck his cock in me till cum came out my eyes if he could have, but social decorum prevailed and he didn't take me then and there, unfortunately. Instead, he loaded up my cart, I thanked him, and he said, "gimme yer phone." Of course, I did.

"I live in (redacted), I'm free around 10. Text me. I'm Jackson." He walked away.

I was in utter shock and disbelief. I was sweating fucking bullets. Had anyone seen? Was it obvious? Did he actually just do that and say that to me? Then my thoughts went elsewhere: I don't do this anymore. I'm not attracted to guys. I don't like dick. This is gross. This isn't who I am. I can't. I won't. But of course, all of that isn't true. It never has been. If I ever thought it wasn't true it was because I had managed to trick myself; convince myself otherwise of the truth, the cold hard truth: that nothing made my cock harder, nothing made me cum harder, nothing turned me on so much as being put on my knees and told to suck cock; being picked up like a rag doll and thrown onto a couch and pinned down while some uncut man buried his dick so balls deep in my seemingly straight ass that I was deep throating him. I was on my way to see him just hours later.

He lived in a nice house in a nice area. Nothing too fancy, but something anyone would be proud and happy of. I parked in his driveway, per his request, and knocked on the front door, per his request.

Jackson, I never really described him...his hair was salt and pepper, mostly pepper, but thinning with age. He was probably about 47. I'm 32 now. He was about 6'1. I'm 5'9. He had a thick full beard, vascular arms and forearms, thick padded hands of a blue collar worker, and a chest and belly such as befits a man who splits boys open with his cock after picking them up at Home Depot. We shook hands and he then cupped my cheek with a sly closed mouth smile. He led me into his living room where a bottle of whiskey and two glasses were sitting.

We sat down next to each other on his dark brown leather couch. He had a fireplace channel playing on the television and soft music of some kind I can't begin to describe going in the background. We talked very casually and nicely. We actually got on very well.

"You know," I said to him, "I haven't done this in a long time."

"I know," he said as he chucjled at me and took a big gulp from his glass. I nervously laughed back.

"How do you know?"

"I just do. But something told me at the store you were waiting for it." And he held my gaze so long. It felt like an eternity, but neither of us looked away. Then, without breaking eye contact, he grabbed his crotch where I could now see the perfect outline of an enormous cock. "Go into the bathroom. There's something in there for you," he said.

"What is it?"

"You'll see."

I put my drink down. "Finish that," he now commanded with a smile. And I obeyed. I just fuckin obeyed him like he owned me and I didn't even know his last name. I picked my drink up and slugged the whole thing and immediately felt one gulp past tipsy. Could I be so fucking weak? How could I, a confident, straight male, who fucks chicks, and isn't attracted to men, who hasn't done this in years, just blindly obey in a sheer instant the wishes and commands of some stranger who wants to stick his thick meat in every hole I have until I am nothing but a bag filled with his cum? I don't have the answer, but when he later on called me a pretty faggot while looking into my watering eyes as I choked down his daddy dick...I liked it. No, I loved it. There was nothing more gratifying in the whole world than being on my knees again submitting to some older man; my throat spit and tears running down my straight face as he held the back of my head with one hand and throat with the other and fucked my face like a pussy. I think the answer lies in there.

In the bathroom he had a jockstrap waiting for me. I had never worn one without a cup before, and to be honest it felt pretty good. It felt hot. I liked looking at my package all bundled up in the front and my ass sculpted and framed by the elastic bands in the back. I bent over in the mirror and spread my ass to get a good look at myself, at who I truly was. And as I peered into the tightest pinkest asshole on planet earth, the door to the bathroom easily swung open.

Jackson was standing there with the whiskey bottle and smiling as he leaned on the door frame. I merely laughed nervously and he nipped the bottle and handed it to me. I took another huge swig. When my chin came back down to my chest Jackson had stepped right in front of me and looked down into my eyes. He grabbed me by the waist, and as if I weighed nothing more than a feather, I'm 155 and muscular, he picked me up and placed me on the counter top like a little boy.

He spread my legs apart as he stepped between them and stuck his tongue down my throat. I sucked his tongue as he pulled away in satisfaction. He leaned into my ear and whispered, "how long has it been?" "Years," I replied as my lips gently caressed his ear. He took my face in both his hands as he gently kissed my lip; as soft as soft can be. When I in the next moment reached for his belt and undid his pants without being told, I knew I was totally lost. I had given up any trepidation; any anxiety; any thought at all that I didn't do this anymore, that I didn't love sucking cock, that I wasn't a complete and utter faggot for older cock. I started to feverishly and with more and more eagerness and ferocity rip off his pants. And when he hammer sprang up out of his pants it nearly blinded me. It was so fat and huge, like a soda can; it was the biggest cock I'd ever held in my life--and I was stuffing it down my throat. My cock was so rock hard spewing precum there was a small puddle forming where I was kneeling on the cold bathroom floor. His groans were guttural and animalistic. His balls were huge, round, and hairy and completely smacking against my chin. My throat made music as he pounded my stretched out face fuck hole. I was spewing spit and tears. Precum was flowing from my cock. My balls and cock were throbbing masses. Jackson pulled his cock from my mouth and smacked me right on the face with it. It was so thick and fat and heavy that it actually thudded and stung against my skin. I was absolutely cock crazed. I grabbed his soaking wet throbbing dick in one hand, his huge swinging balls in the other and stroked and stucked and massaged all at once. "Yes baby, yes fuck yes suck my fucking cock. Fuck fuck fuck." He was very vocal and I loved it. "Look at daddy. Did I say you could close your eyes? Answer me, baby boy." I struggled to say "yessir," with his cock obstructing my mouth. He liked hearing me struggle. "Tell me how much you love my cock," he commanded as I mumbled muted sounds as best as I could past his meat.
I grabbed his strong ass cheeks and used them to pull myself back and forth forcefully on his cock, fucking my own face like a good little slut--like I'd always seen the girls do in porn videos. I sucked this strangers cock like I was being paid on camera; like my life depended on it. Then with one final gawk in my throat I leaned back against the counter gasping for breath spitting my throat spit mixed with his preum all over my chest, rubbing it all over my body and my cock. Jackson then picke me up under my underarms and up onto my feet. "Walk that way," as I led, his cock poked against my ass. It was threatening bayonet. I didn't even wait for a next command. I wanted my asshole to be split open so fucking badly I couldn't take it anymore. I hadn't a dominant or straight bone in my body. When we reached the living room I immediately dropped to all fours and stuck my ass in the air for him to use.

I was so tuned up it's hard to explain. The rush of it all was as strong as any drug. Finally getting cock again felt like I was doing the most wrong and most right thing ever all at once. It's still confusing because I think I'm straight, and yet this beast lies within me and it is viciously gay. It loved cock more than I love pussy. It's powerful and dangerous. Now when I say I was tuned up, I mean I was so tuned up that Jackson merely applied just the slightest bit of teasing pressure on my asshole with his bare cock tip and I immediately came. Like gushing, uncontrollable, knee-buckling, screaming, clawing, orgasm. "Ooooooh daddy fuck!" I screamed as I gripped the carpet and my cock pumped load after load onto it, soaking it to the woodwork. I collapsed onto my stomach the orgasm was so strong. 3 years without cock does something to a man. Jackson went on to bury his tongue in my asshole, my cock still rock hard and throbbing. My asshole pulsating from my orgasm. He gave me a strong wiff of poppers to loosen me up, it had been so long my ass was virtually virginal. And then he penetrated me. He pulled both my hands behind my back and went as balls deep as he possibly could as he railed me like the world's existence depended on it.

He would take his cock out, spit into my gapping asshole that he commanded me to hold open, then dive in for more. "Come taste Daddy." I immediately, not wanting to disappoint, whipped around and threw my mouth onto his magnificent dick, slurping and swallowing and tasting myself off his cock. He picked me up and threw me onto my back on the couch, threw my legs over his shoulders and stuck himself right here he belonged. Then, as he was choking me for dear life, thrusting back and forth, both his hands around my neck, my face turning purple; I couldn't breathe and it felt so fucking good. He could have fucking killed me, it was have been incredible. He owned every inch of my soul and while he was asserting all earthy and spiritual dominance over me he blew a load so big in my ass I don't think anyone will ever top it. He looked so deep into my eyes with a ferocious animal grimace as he threatened to kill me on his couch; sweating and ragged, "I'm gonna fucking cum inside you son. I'm gonna..fucking...cummmmm....." he trailed off as he let it all flow. The cum was spewing out my asshole around his cock. I could feel his cock pulsating with every pump as he filled me up and up and up with every ounce of cum his balls held. I was nearly blacked out from him choking me and then when I didn't think it could get any more intense, I began to cum again. His cumming and my asphyxiation was just too much and I blew such a powerful load right into my own face. Rope after rope of closeted cum shooting all over the place. Jackson started to loosen his grip, my throat tattooed with his hand prints, bruised and red. I gasped so deeply.

We were soaked with spit, sweat, and cum. He flopped right on top of me and we lay there panting for what seeemed like an eternity. Eventually he spoke, "we should do this again some time." "Yes daddy, we should." He kissed me on the forehead, got up, and took a shower. My asshole was just a gaping cum filled mess; I just lay there like a rag doll--which I was. I cleaned up eventually and headed home. I still see Jackson. And I'm still confused, but by now we all know, I know the truth. I love dick. And I always will.