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A few days after my adventures at the small, brown house with the virile bachelors, I was at home in my basement apartment on my day off, settled in on the couch and playing with myself, when there came a knock at the door. It was early afternoon and I had been up half the night masturbating; I had slept in and I wasn’t dressed. I lay still, pretending there was nobody home, but the inconvenient caller was relentless. I tried to bluff it out, but the visitor cupped his hands against the glass of my private door. He called out my name and told me he knew I was at home.
The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t imagine why someone would knock so aggressively at my door. I was naked and hard from jerking off, so I pulled on my housecoat and tied the sash before I went to the door. I was unsure of the situation and mildly annoyed. I dragged the curtain aside and glared out the window of my apartment door.
My neighbour from down the street, Mr. Temple, stood on the other side of the door.
He was smiling and I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. I didn’t know the man very well. He was a fat and balding man in his late forties or early fifties who used this warm weather as an excuse to go shirtless, shamelessly displaying his grotesque, hairy man-boobs. He was wearing only shorts and sandals. He had a straw sun-hat on and a pair of sunglasses.
My most recent experience with this neighbour was right before my sexual adventure with the bachelors who lived across the street from him. When those men loudly invited me up to their deck to drink with them, Mr. Temple encouraged me to join them in the hope it would settle the noisy neighbours down for a while. I felt pressured by Mr. Temple and the other neighbours watching from yards and porches to appease the men, and that directly led to my becoming a sexual conquest for the three bachelors. Considering that, I wasn’t sure if I should be grateful to Mr. Temple… or perhaps, very grateful.
I opened the door and greeted my neighbour. He grinned and entered without invitation.
“I wanted your opinion on something, son,” Mr. Temple said, holding up a USB stick.
“Where can we watch this?”
Curious, I took the stick and plugged it into my laptop. The folder on the drive opened, and Mr. Temple reached past me to highlight a file and hit enter. My media player launched and a second later, I was watching a green-tinted, night-vision video in which I was sucking cock while giving a handjob and taking a dick up my ass.
All the blood in my body went to my cheeks, my ears, and, of course, my penis.
“Heh,” Mr. Temple laughed. “I didn’t know you were the type, son. You look pretty happy pleasing those cocks.”
I was still deeply-conflicted about my recent turning-out. I wasn’t sure if I was bi or gay or what, but I knew that I had very much enjoyed my time with Carlo, Mick and Marty the other night. I wasn’t long wondering why Mr. Temple was bringing up the matter.
“You see,” Mr. Temple began. “I’ve been watching those boys since they moved to the neighbourhood. They’ve made skanks out of nearly every man and woman that has walked past that white picket gate. When I encouraged you to go up there and join them on their porch, I wondered if you would turn over for them, and boy, did you ever!”
I watched the video, aroused by the real visuals of the event; memories alone had inspired me to jerk off every few waking hours since my seduction by the bachelors. Actually watching it provoked a physical response that seemed inappropriate to the moment.
“Yeah, I can see you have a growing interest in the video.”
I flushed, embarrassed by my erection as much as by my submissive antics on the video. The camera angle was not ideal, catching the action through the spindles of the deck’s handrail and cases of empties. I watched as the digital image of me simultaneously thrust back against my ass-fucker’s cock and swallowed the cum of my feeder. I watched myself shudder with pleasure and life imitated image as I felt a shiver down my spine.
As it happened, it wasn’t just the video triggering my sensations. Mr. Temple had stepped behind me and placed his hands on my buttocks. I moved to protest.
“Let’s skip the part where you say no and I offer to send that video to everyone on your e-mail contact list, so we don’t waste any time getting down to business. You may not know this, but I’m a retired cop and I still have some contacts, including someone I used to hack your account for me. But why spoil the beauty of this thing with bitterness? I’m going to fuck your ass off, and don’t worry, because I already know you’re going to enjoy it.”
He kneaded my backside through the thin material of my housecoat. The material scratched my naked ass enticingly. Here I was, deep in a state of sexual confusion, unsure if I was straight or gay… but I was definitely leaning queer at this moment. I was responding to same-sex blackmail and harassment like Büyükesat Escort a virgin courted with flowers at the prom. My erection poked between the front folds of my housecoat. My rough seducer looked over my shoulder and saw the tip of my penis pointing out.
“Well, well,” Mr. Temple observed with glee. “It looks like we won’t have to argue the point.”
He reached around and began stroking my cock. I sighed and let my head fall back to settle on his shoulder. I was completely caught up in the sensations and the promise of sex; I gave no thought to Mr. Temple’s age (twice my own) or his girth (probably closer to three times mine). Fat and balding, he was not conventionally attractive, but he carried himself with certainty and confidence and I knew from my experience with the bachelors in the small, brown house down the street that these were qualities in a man that turned me on.
Mr. Temple controlled my movements, steering me by the cock and directing me with his bulk toward the bedroom. When he stood me at the foot of my own bed, he let go of my penis and unknotted my sash with a quick tug. The front of my housecoat hung open limply until Mr. Temple slid the robe off my shoulders; the folds of discarded fabric collected around my feet. I stood naked before my ravisher.
Mr. Temple turned me by the shoulders and stood back a step. Thanks to the weather, he was already shirtless, and I took in the sight of his hairy man-tits and belly, the latter of which overhung his shorts. His arms and legs were muscular though, and I imagined he might have been a jock before he let himself go to seed. He was still powerful, as I realized when he effortlessly lifted me by the waist and threw me on the bed; my head landed on the pillow and I looked up at the mighty older man with an improbable attraction. I admitted to myself that I was horny.
Mr. Temple knew that he had me. He reached into the back pocket of his shorts and pulled out his cellphone. He raised it before his face and took several photos of me. I imagined the pictures he was taking of me: a naked young man of slender build with wavy brown hair, scant body-hair and a full erection springing up out of a bush of curly pubes; my eyes were veiled with attraction as I bit my lower lip in anticipation of what was to follow.
I wasn’t completely on autopilot; my conscious mind was aware that I was being mistreated by the older man, but I was well aware you can’t rape the willing, and I was more than willing. I couldn’t believe how I, a supposedly straight boy, suddenly turned over for other men.
Mr. Temple directed me in a photo shoot, barking orders sharply; his demanding tone turned me on: I was to raise my hips and touch my cock; pinch my nipples; lick my fingers; turn over and push my ass toward the camera; slap my ass; put my fingers up my anus.
When he was finished photographing me, I was horny enough to fuck the Elephant Man, much less Mr. Temple. I watched as he put his phone on the nightstand and turned on the video recording feature. He looked at the phone and I watched him as he repositioned me on the bed for the camera’s benefit. I lay on my back on an angle diagonal to the mattress while Mr. Temple pulled down his shorts, hopped up onto the bed with surprising agility and knelt between my knees. His knob hung between his legs.
I had read somewhere that overweight men approaching middle age sometimes had disruptions in the blood flow that made their penises shrink and caused erectile dysfunction. Mr. Temple’s cocklet might have looked small at first, but as I watched, it engorged with blood, filling out and lengthening to its full seven inches. I wondered if Mr. Temple had taken a Viagra or two before he came to visit…
My mouth was watering as I watched the man’s dick expand to full size. When and how did I become such an easy queer?
Mr. Temple crawled over me and repositioned himself so his knees were on either side of my chest; my arms were restrained from easy movement in this configuration. His cock was right over my face.
“Alright, you cum-sucking faggot, you know you want to.”
He wasn’t wrong. I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue hungrily. Mr. Temple leaned in and let his cut cock ease into my piehole. I felt the ridge on the bottom of his penis as it traipsed roughly along my tongue. I felt his glans first touch my tonsils, and then begin to ease past them. My gag reflex was suppressible, as I had learned inhaling cocks just the other night, and I suppressed it now, taking a deep breath through my nose while I still had the chance. I let my throat close around the head of his cock while vibrating my tongue against his shaft.
“Oh, yeah, boy… that’s good. I’m gonna love fucking your throat almost as much as banging your ass.”
I could feel my own erection throbbing with sexual excitement. I knew what my cock did not: if I got off in this encounter, it would have to be a hands-free and Beşevler Escort spontaneous orgasm because there wasn’t a chance Mr. Temple would take the trouble to make me come for my own sake. I didn’t really mind; somehow, I knew I would be satisfied at the outcome.
Mr. Temple began leaning in and out toward my face, burying his cock to the hilt and dragging it out again. At first, he was just testing to see if I would be sick on the full length of his dick, but then as he began to sense that I would be okay, he began to slowly fuck my mouth in earnest. I loved the salty taste of his skin on my tongue. The pungent aroma of his pubic hair filled my nose. His hairy testicles tickled my jaw. As we found a rhythm for my face fucking, Mr. Temple’s thrusts picked up speed and I had to catch my breath where I could.
“You’ve got a taste for it now, kid,” Mr. Temple said. I couldn’t answer with his dick in my mouth, but he was right; I was loving this. The middle-aged man groaned.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Mr. Temple said as he pushed my face off his dick. “I want to take your ass. Would you like that, kid?”
I was trying to catch my breath and recover my voice, clearing my throat and coughing slightly, but I nodded in the affirmative. Mr. Temple grinned down at me, enjoying my subservience. He lifted his ass off my chest and reversed his position so that I faced his backside instead of his cock.
“First, I want you to eat my ass.”
This was something new. As I contemplated how to proceed, Mr. Temple ground his hairy buttocks against my smooth cheeks. He positioned himself perfectly to slot my nose and tongue into his asshole. I was first overtaken by the smell. Fortunately for me, Mr. Temple’s ass was not rank; he had plainly washed his hole well and it must have been done directly before this encounter. What remained of odour was a mix of masculine earthiness with a scent of bodywash. It was an appealing combination of aromas. The coarse, fine hairs growing out of his arse tickled my nose and I had to suppress a sneeze. I licked at the bud in his ass, massaged it, probed it with my tongue. I felt intoxicated by the heady smell and the new sensations, and my naked, erect penis, which would have been in Mr. Temple’s full view, throbbed with arousal.
We continued this way for several minutes, with Mr. Temple occasionally letting a hiss or sigh escape his lips. Finally, when we were both far beyond horny, Mr. Temple lifted his ass off of my face and repositioned himself so that he was once more kneeling between my legs.
“You got any lube?” Mr. Temple’s voice was husky with lust.
I admitted I did not have any lube. In fairness to me, until a couple of days ago, I barely imagined I would ever have any need for lube. The rare girls that I might bring home were young enough that getting them wet was never a problem, and, perhaps surprisingly in view of current events, I’d never been an ass-man with women.
Mr. Temple was undeterred. He spat on his dick a couple of times and spread the primitive lube over his organ with his fingers. He directed me to raise my legs and give him access to my own hairy hole. Then he spat on those fingers again and reached into my asshole, wetting it, probing it, penetrating it, until I was mildly lubricated as well.
“Okay, kid, here it comes: the high, hard one, just for you.”
“Yes, sir. Please give it to me, Mr. Temple.”
He liked it when I called him “sir” or “Mr. Temple”; I had nothing else to call him as I didn’t know his first name.
“Tell me you want it.”
“Please, sir, give me your cock. Fuck my ass with your big dick.”
His cock touched my anus. Mr. Temple pressed his member gently into me and I felt the bud in my ass slowly yielding to its strength. The head of his penis was half-way in and I wriggled and groaned as the ring of my asshole widened to accommodate him; I knew from my experience with the particularly thick cock of the bachelor at the old house, Marty, that I could take in larger cocks than this. All the same, it was particularly satisfying when I felt the glans of his penis pop inside me. Mr. Temple wasted no time following up with the rest of his cock and soon he was balls deep inside me.
“Aaaaaaaahhhhh!” Mr. Temple roared. I whined and snivelled in my own pleasure.
Mr. Temple’s back had been arched as he entered me, but now that he was inside, he bent forward so that his great belly weighed me down. We were face-to-face as he began to fuck me in earnest. In his eyes, I saw mastery and dominance, but also delight and even good humour. He enjoyed having me in his power, but there was something light in his eyes as well and for the first time I suspected his blackmail threat was probably a bluff. His gift of gab had talked his way right up my arse.
As he screwed my ass, Mr. Temple and I were nose-to-nose and with one of his thrusts, he landed his lips on mine and began to kiss me with passion. This Cebeci Escort was new to me; my men at the old, brown house down the street had not deigned to lay their lips on mine.
Kissing a man. What can I say of the experience? His kisses were not urgent or desperate, but imposed with the expectation that they would be welcome. His powerful tongue forced its way past my lips and teeth to entwine with my own tongue, both arousing it and dominating it. His kisses opened me wider to his use and exploitation. If I’d been a woman, I’d have been wet; I felt a small tingling lurch in my cock as it expelled a teaspoon dollop of pre-cum against Mr. Temple’s hairy belly. My cock slid easily back and forth along the man’s lower abdomen.
Mr. Temple used his legs to control his thrusts inside my ass. He let much of his body mass rest on my much narrower torso, leaving me a little breathless, but he also transferred some weight to his left elbow. This left his right hand free to roam. He began by petting one of my buttocks for a while, inflaming my ass even more than it already was. After a time, he moved his hand to my shoulder, let it touch my neck teasingly, and put his fingers, which were lately in my ass, in my mouth until I sucked them one by one, savouring the strange, exotic taste. When he withdrew his fingers, he resumed kissing me and I responded, helpless and intoxicated by my sensations.
“Fuck, your ass is tight,” Mr. Temple said. I was as strangely gratified now as when the bachelors at the small, brown house had said the same thing a few days back. “I’m going to fuck you four ways from Sunday and then I’m going to blow a huge load inside you. You like that, don’t you?”
“Unh… yes… unh… sir… please… unh… breed me.”
“Breed you? You did turn over hard, didn’t you, faggot?”
I realized I really had. I thought to myself that I was just an easy, queer slut now; just a hole for any man who wanted to use me; after all, what man had I refused since my neighbours turned me? I was merely a life-support system for a pair of fuckable orifices. Even just the thought of being a gay whore accelerated my heart rate and deepened my breath. My mouth and ass had gone homo for the men down the street and now I was close to spewing for a fat, middle-aged man I once would have considered unattractive.
“How do you like my cock in your ass?”
“Unh… it’s a magnificent cock… unh… Mr. Temple… unh… please don’t stop…”
“So, you’re getting close, eh?”
With his free hand, Mr. Temple squeezed my throat slightly. With the oxygen I was already missing with my lungs pinned under his bulk, I felt myself growing faint. I had heard of erotic asphyxiation, but I had never participated in it before. The older man reduced my air supply and my heartbeat pounded in my ears and darkness pressed in at the edges of my vision. He relented for a moment before resuming his grip; I breathed all the air I could suck in during that short interval. My consciousness wavered again but I noticed I was not losing my senses; rather they seemed to sharpen under Mr. Temple’s efforts.
Time seemed to stand still.
Above the racing percussion of my beating heart, I could hear the erotic sound of my sighs and groans under Mr. Temple’s grunts; in my nose, Mr. Temple’s cologne comingled with his fresh sweat to produce an arousing bouquet; in my eyes, the older man’s lust was writ large all over his face and I was turned on to be looked at that way, as if I was an appetizing cut of meat; our skins rubbed together, lubricated in places by the pre-cum leaking from my tingling penis; in my full-feeling ass, the sensations resembled strange, pleasant counterparts of burning or itching. I felt Mr. Temple’s hairy balls tickling my ass-crack as his pubes scrubbed at my perineum. The wealth of sensation made the cum in my balls boil and before long, I realized I was going to come. With my throat compressed, I rasped out a word of warning to Mr. Temple as he continued fucking me forcefully.
“I’m going to come, sir,” I whispered harshly.
Mr. Temple released my throat and it was like turning a light on in a dark room. My perceptions remained heightened while my body was enriched once more with air. I felt the semen coursing out of my balls and through my stimulated prostate before I ecstatically ejaculated all over Mr. Temple’s belly, which continued to rub against my cock and my abdomen as he persisted in fucking my ass. I cried out in rapture at one of the best orgasms I’d ever had in my young life. My milky cum lined both our bellies and there were sucking, slapping sounds as our torsos undulated against each other.
“Alright, kid, I’m close. Where do you want it? Up the ass? On your face or belly?”
It was considerate of my blackmailer to ask, considering he’d already set the expectation that he would come in my backside. I had already taken semen up my ass and down my throat during my experience with the neighbours and I didn’t yet really fetishize cum-drinking at this point. I invited him to unload on my belly. Mr. Temple pulled out of my ass and, still kneeling between my legs, gave his cock a couple of tugs before he enthusiastically added his pearly-white cum to the milky puddle on my midsection. The older man produced less cum than I did, but it was still a viscous and potent load.
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