Another story based on the true life adventures of a married bisexual man.
By Billy Jay Dee
Mitch locked the door behind us as we entered his room. He dropped his towel and bounced across the bed landing with his back against the wall, arms supported by pillows, legs sprawled across the sheet. His stiff rod bobbed somewhat upward. Those expressionless night-clad eyes gazed upon his trobbing cock and then rose to my blue eyes.
I threw myself down between his perfect thighs and began to worship his golden idol. He had the body of a Greek god cast in polished bronzes.
"God, you have a great body!" I exclaimed as my hands explored his well-muscled bodyscape.
Delight flashed across his face. "You too," he lied. Then his eyes returned to that darkened shade as cold and black as the eternal night of space.
I sucked both of his perfect hairless balls into my mouth. Mitch liked that. I licked his cock to gleaming. My hands flowed up this firm belly and rippled abdomen -- as flat and hard as polished marble.
"Nice belly."
"You, too."
He leaned from above my postrate form and squeezed my small pot belly twice, pulled at my little six inch cock, rolled one leg over so he could examine my asshole and then leaned back again. It's not that I believed I had a great body, but to hear him say it assured me I was good enough to meet his standards.
He pulled my head back onto his cock and gently started face-fucking me again. Occasionally, I lifted his balls to my mouth when pushing my chin back to the mattress. I could see delight flash across his face. For the most part his assault was eerily silent except for the slurping noises my mouth made around his drooling cock and his heavy breathing. The time before in Seattle, I'd been with my boy friend, Ken. He's loud in his appreciation, affectionate to a fault, and always loving and intimate, even when he's hammering me hard.
At some point in the forced feeding of my 48-year-old face, Mitch's hands let up the pressure on the nape of my neck. I looked up to the Olympian heights of his face and found his eyes upon me as stern as Jove's between lightning strikes in a night sky. Without acknowledging my presence, his stare turned to something else.
I followed his gaze to the mirrored wall. There Mitch reclined like a river god of antiquity. Powerful, beautiful, manly, rippled adbomen, massive shoulders, bulging muscles, thighs like a hero. I laid at his feet wallowing like a beached whale. That was it! I was going to suck that shaft so hard he'd beg me to impale myself. My head rose over his lap and I plunged my mouth down onto his cock. A finger reach for his squeaky clean ass.
His hands gripped the back of my head and forced the thick mushroom of his cock far to the back of my throat. Too far.
What happen next wasn't erotic and didn't involve him cumming. It did require us to shower together. And, though I apologized and he said it was all right, I declined when he wanted me to return to his room.
"I'll walk around first and let my stomach settle. Then I'll be up." Which I was eventually.