Make it Mine
This story contains descriptions of graphic sex between males. If that kind of thing does not appeal to you, stop reading now.
This story is pure fiction. If this resembles something that happened to you, it must have been an incredible experience. But it's simply a coincidence.
All comments are welcome: djwarner1984@hotmail.com Please donate to Nifty: https://donate.nifty.org/
-DJ
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Day 1
The runner sets out at 6:00am. He's wearing a long sleeve running shirt, jock strap & running shorts, white anklet socks & running sneakers. He's in his mid-thirties, dark hair, brown eyes, slim build, light hair on his legs.
He returns home around 7:00am all sweaty from his run. He slips his running sneakers off, makes a cup of coffee and sits out on his deck. He drinks his coffee and surfs the latest news on his tablet.
Around 7:30am a three-man crew appears next door. They're tearing down and rebuilding his neighbor's deck and patio. That's the first time he sees one of the crew, who the runner calls 'Hoodie' in his thoughts. He's wearing a hooded grey sweatshirt. His hood covers his head and shields his face, and he never takes it down. He keeps his hands mostly in the front pouch of the hooded sweatshirt, and he mostly hunches over, blocking the view of his face. He's wearing brown work boots and it looks to the runner like Hoodie has big feet. His fitted blue jeans hug tightly against his body. His legs are thin. His butt is pronounced but not quite a bubble butt. His pant legs taper to the top of his boots, which makes him look tall. The runner thinks Hoodie might be 6' 2" or more.
The runner can't stop glancing at Hoodie. He's turned on by what he can see, which at the moment is just his body. He's also intrigued by what he can't see, rapidly becoming obsessed with sneaking glances, trying to see Hoodie's face. The runner can't see more than Hoodie's backside the first few times he sneaks a peak at him. Finally, the runner catches Hoodie turning to the side. He sees his nose and dirty blonde tufts of hair coming out from under the hood of his sweatshirt. He finally turns fully in the runner's direction. He can see Hoodie's package is bulging in his tight jeans. But Hoodie keeps his head low, so the runner still can't really see his face. He gets the sense that he's young, but he just can't be sure. The runner thinks that Hoodie keeps looking over at him from under his hood. The runner is definitely attracted to him.
The runner realizes he's going to be late, so he stands and starts to collect his things. He thinks he sees Hoodie looking at him. But again, Hoodie doesn't look directly at him. It's from the side as he turns his head. The hood is blocking the runner's view of his face. The runner reluctantly turns away, goes in, and gets ready for work.
As the runner gets into his car, he sees Hoodie turn around to face him and there's no doubt now that he's watching the runner. The runner can see more of Hoodie, but it's from a distance as he backs out of his driveway. The runner thinks he looks like a teenager, but he just can't be sure.
All throughout the day, the runner thinks about Hoodie. He gets hard each time he tries to put a face on him.
When the runner gets home, he goes out onto his back deck to see if the working crew finished his neighbor's deck and patio. His heart rate quickens when he sees they haven't finished, and their gear is still in the neighbor's yard.
That night he jerks off two loads fantasizing about Hoodie. It's been a long time since the runner could cum two times within 30 minutes without losing his hardness in between.
Day 2
A creature of habit, the runner sets out on his daily run again at 6:00am. He's wearing the same running gear - long sleeve running shirt, jock strap & running shorts, white anklet socks & running sneakers.
He again returns home around 7:00am all sweaty from his run. His jock strap is full with his plumped-up cock. He can't wait to see Hoodie again. He quickly slips his sneakers off, makes his cup of coffee, grabs his tablet, and goes out onto his deck.
Around 7:30am, he hears the work crew arrive. He keeps his head down pretending to look at his tablet, but his peripheral vision is fully engaged. He finally sees him. Hoodie is wearing the same hooded grey sweatshirt, the same tight blue jeans, the same brown work boots.
This time the runner is sure that Hoodie is glancing over at him. In fact, the runner starts to plump up as he begins to realize that Hoodie might be flirting with him. Hoodie keeps bending over with his ass in the runner's direction. Whenever Hoodie's body is turned either partially or fully facing the runner, one of his hands will slip out of the pouch and go to his crotch. The runner can see that Hoodie has really big hands. He either frames his crotch with his hand, caresses it, or outright grabs and rubs it. The runner can see Hoodie turning his head or lifting his head while bent over to see if the runner is looking.
The runner is excited, but he's afraid to act on it. He's fantasized about guys he's encountered before and sometimes summoned the courage to flirt with them. But as soon as the moment comes to make a real connection and take it to a physical level, he chickens out. So many times, he's had the moment right in front of him, but he couldn't summon the courage to do anything about it.
The more he thinks about it, the more disgusted and angrier he gets at himself. He looks over at Hoodie and just can't suppress the lust he has for him. He decides to be bold. Or what the runner considers bold. He pulls his chair back and turns it to face Hoodie's direction. He drops his hand to his lap and blatantly rubs his crotch. Instead of sneaking glances, he looks directly at Hoodie. He stands up while holding his crotch. He thinks Hoodie is peeking out from the side of his hood. But then suddenly, Hoodie ducks his head, turns away, walks around the other side of the neighbor's house, and disappears.
The runner is disheartened. Was there another worker coming? He didn't see anyone. He thought he was on the verge of making a connection with Hoodie, but he shut it down and walked away. Dejected, the runner goes inside to get ready for work.
When the runner goes out to his car, Hoodie is back. He's watching him again. This time, Hoodie has one foot propped up on something. His hand is blatantly grabbing his crotch and shaking it toward the runner as he backs his car out of the driveway.
At work, the runner is again distracted all day thinking about Hoodie. He decides to summon the courage to make a move tomorrow when Hoodie arrives in the morning.
When the runner gets home, he goes out onto his back deck. He looks over to his neighbor's deck and patio. His heart sinks. Everything looks finished. And all of the gear the work crew left the night before is gone. The runner is bummed out that he missed his opportunity.
That night, he jerks off thinking about Hoodie. He cums only once and with none of the enthusiasm he had the night before.
Day 3
The runner starts his day like before, he sets out on his daily run at 6:00am. He's wearing a fresh set of running gear, similar to what he wore before - long sleeve running shirt, jock strap & running shorts, white anklet socks & running sneakers.
He again returns home around 7:00am all sweaty from his run. He sighs as he slips his sneakers off, thinking about his missed chance with Hoodie. He makes his cup of coffee, picks up his tablet and goes out onto his deck.
He glances over to his neighbor's yard.
There he is.
Hoodie.
All alone.
He's sitting on the top railing of the neighbor's new deck. His knees are bent, and his feet are propped up on the cross board of the railing. He's wearing the same grey hooded sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, the same tight blue jeans, and the same brown work boots. He's facing the runner, watching him. The runner can see his face now. He's gorgeous. And he looks so young. Feeling his heart racing, he puts his tablet down, raises his hand, and waves Hoodie over.
Hoodie scoots off of the deck railing and lands on the patio. He puts his fists into his sweatshirt pouch, scrunches his shoulders, drops his head and starts walking toward the runner.
The runner is frozen standing next to his open sliding door, still holding his coffee. He's unsure what to do next. As Hoodie gets closer, he can see his huge package painfully squished into his tight jeans. And now the runner can really see his face. The runner is excited at how young and gorgeous he looks.
Hoodie comes onto the runner's deck and leans against the deck railing. The two of them are now about five feet from each other. Hoodie's hands are still in his sweatshirt pouch. He lifts his face fully, but he's still being coy and doesn't make direct eye contact. The runner can see he has light skin, rounded features, deep blue eyes, and very long eyelashes. His lips look soft and inviting. His chin has sparse, ungroomed brown stubble on it. Simply put, Hoodie is a very pretty man. Or is he still a boy?
"Hey," says the runner.
"Sup," replies Hoodie.
The runner is shocked to hear Hoodie's voice. It's very, very deep. A voice you'd expect to hear from someone much older.
"How old are you?" asks the runner casually. He starts to sip his coffee.
"Old enough," Hoodie says cryptically in his deep voice.
"No, seriously," replies the runner with his lips just touching the rim of his coffee cup.
"I'm over 18," Hoodies says as he drops his head and scrunches his shoulders.
The runner looks at Hoodie expectantly as he takes a sip from his coffee. He pauses and stares at Hoodie, not sure how to get him to tell him his age.
"I'm 22," Hoodie finally admits, his deep voice coming from under his hood.
The runner smiles. Hoodie doesn't react.
"I think you're very attractive," says the runner, trying to ease the conversation forward.
"I want yer ass," responds Hoodie. His demeanor is confident. He knows what he wants and he's not afraid to say it.
"Oh, yeah?" says the runner. He continues with a conversational tone.
"I want to make it mine," says Hoodie with assertiveness.
"What does that mean?" asks the runner with a curious look on his face.
"It means that I fuck yer ass, I plant my seed in it, and claim it as mine..." he says as he looks directly at the runner.
The runner doesn't respond as he absorbs what Hoodie is saying. Plus, Hoodie is staring right into his eyes as he speaks. The runner is mesmerized watching Hoodie's lips move while his deep, sonorous voice echoes into the air.
"Once I claim yer ass, only I can fuck it. Anytime I show up, no matter what yer doin', you present yer ass to me. You do exactly what I tell you. I fuck yer ass and I plant my seed because yer ass is mine," Hoodie explains with certainty.
The runner is stunned. Hoodie's deep, sexy voice saying 'yer ass is mine' echoes in his ears, turning him on. But the terms he's laid out scare him. He pauses for a beat, trying to decide what to do.
"I...I don't..." the runner finally stammers.
"Or...I leave," says Hoodie with no emotion.
The runner doesn't know what to do. He hesitates.
Hoodie stops leaning against the railing and stands up straight. He starts to turn to walk away.
"No, wait!" says the runner desperately.
Hoodie stops and turns to look at the runner from behind the side of his hood, only the dirty blonde strands of hair poking out of his hood are visible.
"Can we talk about this?" the runner says pleadingly.
"No...you accept my terms, or I leave," Hoodie says.
And there it is. A simple choice. All the runner has to do is say yes. But he hesitates again. Hoodie turns and starts to walk off the deck.
"Wait...please," the runner begs.
Hoodie stops. He drops his head and turns his whole body. His head comes up and he looks at the runner. His beautiful face looks out from under his hood. The runner swallows hard. This is his last chance.
"Ok...yes...I..." the runner stammers with trepidation, "I accept your terms."
Finally getting the runner's consent, Hoodie digs his fists deeper into the sweatshirt pouch. He scrunches his shoulders and drops his head. Without looking up, he walks by the runner and into the house. He looks around, realizes it's the kitchen and walks into the next room.
"Fuckin' c'mon, man! Let's go!" Hoodie's booming voice comes from the living room.
The runner puts his coffee down on the kitchen counter as he follows Hoodie into the living room. He sees Hoodie next to the end of his couch. Hoodie wedges himself between the couch and the end table next to it. Facing the couch, he shoves his upper legs backward into the end table. It scrapes on the floor as it moves away, giving him enough room to stand at the end of the couch. In the process, some stuff falls off the end table, crashing to the floor. The runner starts to move toward the mess on the floor.
"Leave it," commands Hoodie.
Hoodie leans his thighs against the arm of the couch.
"Get me ready," Hoodie says, as he takes one hand out of the sweatshirt pouch and adjusts his hood forward. Hoodie leans his body forward. His crotch is about 3 inches above the arm of the couch.
The runner is in a trance and, without thinking, follows Hoodie's commands. He gets on all fours on the couch facing Hoodie. His face is right in line with Hoodie's crotch. He reaches out and starts to rub Hoodie's bulging package.
'Smack!' Hoodie whacks the runner's hand away.
"No hands," Hoodie orders.
His deep voice echoes in the runner's ears. The runner is dazed a bit from the suddenness of the hand smack and Hoodie's booming reprimand. He's mesmerized as Hoodie unsnaps and unzips his pants. He shimmies them down to just below the couch arm. The runner is in awe. Hoodie is not wearing underwear and his hefty cock bounces out of his pants. It's at least 9 inches long and curves to the left. The head is a bit smaller than the very thick shaft. Hoodie's foreskin is partially covering the head and pre-cum has moistened the tip of his cock. The runner can see the heaviness of Hoodie's cock as it pulses in front of him, hanging out from his body, not fully hard yet, but well on its way. And Hoodie has no bush. It's clean-shaven. Even his balls are shaved.
The runner is intimidated by the size of Hoodie's cock. He is sure there's no way he's going to be able take Hoodie's thick, long cock up his ass. The runner gets distracted by these thoughts and forgets what Hoodie just said. He reaches up to grasp Hoodie's cock.
'Smack!' Hoodie gives the runner's jaw an open-handed slap.
"I said no hands," Hoodie reprimands.
The runner obeys. He plants both hands on the couch cushion and locks his elbows. He lifts his head up toward Hoodie and opens his mouth. He looks up at Hoodie's eyes expectantly.
Hoodie looks down into the runner's eyes. The runner gets excited when he sees Hoodie's beautiful face and looks into his gorgeous eyes. Hoodie grabs the hair on the top of the runner's head and holds him there as he smacks his cock back and forth on the runner's cheeks with his other hand. Hoodie's pre-cum slathers onto the runner's cheeks and some of it flings onto the couch arm.
Still gripping the runner's hair, Hoodie then tilts his head back a bit. With his other hand, he lifts his balls up. He slides one ball into the runner's mouth, and the runner begins to slobber all over it. Hoodie's cock bounces above the runner's face. It dabs spots of pre-cum in the runner's hair and forehead as the runner sucks on his left nut.
Then Hoodie starts to shove his other ball into the runner's mouth. The runner opens his mouth wider but can't fit them both.
"Take 'em both," Hoodie orders.
He takes the hand gripping the runner's hair and moves it to cup his mouth. He pulls his jaw to make it wider. The second ball slides into the runner's mouth.
The runner makes slurping and gagging noises as he suckles Hoodie's balls in his mouth. Hoodie uses both hands to grip the hair on the sides of the runner's head.
"Suck 'em harder," Hoodie demands.
Hoodie holds the runner's head in place as he pulls his hips back stretching his ballsac. The runner desperately sucks harder to keep the balls from coming out.
"Don't let 'em go," Hoodie warns him.
Hoodie pulls harder. The runner is struggling to breathe through his nose while continuing to suck as hard as he can to hang on to Hoodie's balls.
"Ahhh...yeah...get that seed ready for plantin'," Hoodie says in a surprisingly gentle tone.
Hoodie pulls even harder. His ballsac is really stretched. The suckling of his balls has turned him on so much, his cock has gotten fully hard and is rigidly pointing over the runner's face. A bead of pre-cum has formed on his cock slit.
The runner is really struggling now. He's afraid his teeth are going to scrape on Hoodie's balls if he tries to hold on any longer. He starts to whine when Hoodie's pulling is finally too much. The balls pop out of his mouth. Hoodie's balls sway backward, and spit flings off of them onto the arm of the couch. The pre-cum on his cock slit goes flying off from the jolt of the release and lands partly on the runner's face and partly on the couch arm. And a whole mouthful of spit splashes out of the runner's mouth onto the couch arm as he gasps for air. Globs of spit hang from a couple of places on his lips. Hoodie immediately pushes down on his cock and puts the head onto the spit-covered lips of the runner.
"Taste it. Taste my pre-seed," Hoodie orders.
The runner flicks his tongue out and gingerly licks Hoodie's cock head. Hoodie tightens his grip on the tuft of the runner's hair and tugs the runner's head.
"I said taste it, bitch!" Hoodie says with a louder voice as he shoves just the head into the runner's mouth.
The runner seals his lips around the head of Hoodie's cock, and he sucks on it. Pre-cum oozes out and he swallows. The sweet, musky, and salty combination is a taste the runner fantasized about from the second he saw Hoodie on the first day. He is not disappointed as he savors the pre-cum sliding down his throat. The runner redoubles his efforts to suck more pre-cum out of Hoodie's cock.
Hoodie takes one hand and cups it under the runner's jaw. His other hand he cups under the runner's throat. He squeezes his hands slightly and slides his cock in until he hits the back of the runner's throat. About half of his cock is still exposed.
"Yeah, take it," Hoodie whispers with a tone of tenderness.
When his cock hits the back of his throat, the runner's eyes open wide. He gags and coughs. Some spit starts to drip out the sides of his mouth.
"Don't be a bitch. Open up," Hoodie says sternly.
The runner moans in protest as he continues to gag. Hoodie pressures the back of the runner's throat with his cock head, trying to enter his gullet.
Hoodie lifts the runner's throat up a bit while holding his jaw down, trying to create a straight line through his throat to his gullet.
Finally, Hoodie's cock head enters the runner's gullet, and his cock slides all the way into the runner's mouth.
"Fuck, yeah," Hoodie whispers as he throws his head back.
The runner moans and tears start to well up in his eyes. Hoodie holds his cock there, reveling in the tight feeling of the runner's gullet squeezing his cock head. The runner starts to whine, his teary eyes try to look up at Hoodie. He starts to panic, and his legs start kicking. He grips onto the edge of the couch cushion with one hand and wildly claws at the wet arm of the couch with his other hand.
"Take it...take it..." Hoodie commands.
Hoodie holds his cock there another couple seconds. The runner's eyes droop and then start to roll back. Finally, Hoodie releases his hands and then pulls his spit-slick cock all the way out. His cock drips spit onto the arm of the couch as it bobs up and down in the air.
The runner gasps for air and coughs. Spit spills out of his mouth onto the arm of the couch. He swipes his mouth with the back of his hand while he sniffles and coughs.
"Drop yer shorts," Hoodie orders.
The runner slides his shorts down and leaves then bunched at his knees, exposing his ass. Hoodie can see the straps of his jock crossing each ass cheek.
"Put yer throat here," Hoodie commands as he pats the wet arm of the couch.
The runner moves up and gingerly puts his throat onto the couch arm. He winces slightly as his throat apprehensively touches the cold wetness. Hoodie grabs the hair on the top of the runner's head and pushes down slightly. The runner's throat is now trapped on the arm of the couch. He can still breathe, but not as easily. While still holding his head down with one hand, Hoodie slides two fingers of his other hand into the runner's mouth, gets them wet with the runner's spit, and then pulls them out.
Hoodie continues to hold the runner's throat against the wet couch arm as he tilts the runner's head back, so he has a straight line to his gullet. Hoodie rests his slick cock head on the edge of the runner's open mouth. Without warning, he thrusts with a single, slow, purposeful motion and his cock slides into the runner's mouth, burrowing through his gullet until his cock disappears completely.
With the shock of the sudden impaling of Hoodie's cook down his throat, the runner whines and then groans. He gags and coughs as spit drips out of his mouth and snot comes out of his nose.
Hoodie reaches his hand out toward the runner's ass. He takes his two wet fingers and slides them into the runner's asshole up to the first knuckle. The runner shrieks, but it's muffled. He reacts by trying to move his body forward, but he can't. Hoodie's hand and buried cock are holding him. He groans and then whines. He tries to lift himself with his arms, but his throat is pinned to the couch arm. His feet start to flop up and down as he begins to panic.
Hoodie slowly pulls back on his cock, and it starts to slide out of the runner's mouth. At the same time, he hooks his embedded fingers and pulls on the runner's ass. A muffled scream comes out of the runner's full mouth along with some spit as Hoodie brings his cock head to just the edge of the runner's mouth. The runner breathes in loudly through his nose, pulling some of the snot back in, as he tries to regain some composure.
But Hoodie gives him no time to recover. He thrusts back all the way into the runner's throat while at the same time he digs his fingers deeper into the runner's asshole until he reaches the second knuckle. As Hoodie's cock slides into the runner's gullet, he screams and whines and gags. Spit falls out of the sides of his mouth and drips onto the arm of the couch. He begins to flail his legs as panic sets in again.
Hoodie releases his fingers, and they slide out of the runner's hole. He slowly pulls his cock out of the runner's mouth until it's pulsing just out of reach of the runner's lips. Spit and pre-cum drip off of it onto the couch arm. The runner gasps for air and coughs. He tries to snort in the snot that dripped from his nose, but they only go back in a little bit.
"Fuckin' tight hole," Hoodie whispers to himself.
He loosens the grip on the runner's hair and looks down at him.
"You a virgin?" Hoodie asks.
The runner tilts his head up a little bit and lifts his eyes to look up at Hoodie. They make eye contact.
"Mmm-hhmm," the runner replies with a sheepish look on his face as he nods gently.
"Fuck!" Hoodie whispers.
For the first time, a smile comes across Hoodie's face. His whole face lights up when he does. The runner is in awe at how beautiful Hoodie's face is when he smiles. Hoodie takes his hand and gently caresses the side of the runner's face.
"Well, it's yer lucky day," Hoodie says.
A feeling of warmth envelops the runner as Hoodie shows him this simple sign of affection. But that lasts all of two seconds. Hoodie regrasps the hair on the top of the runner's head as the smile disappears from his face.
"Lick 'em," Hoodie orders, as he slides his asshole-stained fingers into the runner's mouth.
The runner slobbers spit all over Hoodie's two fingers as he closes his eyes. He tries to imprint the vision of Hoodie smiling down on him and the feeling of Hoodie caressing his cheek, so he can hang onto that moment just a little longer. Hoodie slides the spit-slicked fingers out of the runner's mouth, and he releases the grip on his hair.
"Turn around," Hoodie commands.
As the runner stays on all fours and turns his body, he removes his shorts and drops them on the floor next to the couch. He swings his legs, so his feet are against the arm of the couch. He's now on his hands and knees, on the couch, facing away from Hoodie.
"Put yer feet down the side," Hoodie orders as he gestures toward the space between the cushion and the arm of the couch.
The runner slides his white anklet covered toes into the space, anchoring his feet into the side of the couch.
"Slide that ass back," Hoodie continues to direct him as he pats the wet arm of the couch with his two wet fingers.
The runner lifts himself back and plants his haunches down on the arm of the couch. His cock and balls, encased in his jock, mash themselves together as they land on the cold spit-soaked arm of the couch, making a squishing sound as they do. Hoodie gives the middle of the runner's back a firm push. His arms collapse and his face plants into the couch cushion in front of him. In this position, the runner's asshole is propped up, spread open, and presented to Hoodie on the arm of the couch right at the height of his cock. The runner turns his face so he can breathe, and he realizes that with his feet trapped and the weight of his body forcing his knees to the side, he has no leverage to easily get out of this position.
Hoodie leans over and spits at the runner's asshole. A huge glob of spit lands in the hairs wedged between the runner's ass crack. Hoodie takes his two wet fingers and slides them into the spit and slathers it over the hole. He positions his fingers above the hole and swipes down. As he passes the hole, he dips his fingers inside and flicks at the hole. The hairs on the side of the runner's ass crack tug at his fingers as they pass by.
"Mmmmm," the runner groans in response.
Hoodie does the gesture again, sliding his fingers over the hole, dipping his fingers in a bit further this time. Hoodie can hear the slick sound of the wet hairs stroked by his fingers as he does.
"Ooooh," the runner coos.
Again, Hoodie swipes his fingers over the runner's asshole, this time dipping even further into his hole. Some of the runner's wet ass hair goes into his hole with Hoodie's fingers.
"Ahhhh," the runner winces in half pleasure, half pain.
Hoodie spits into the runner's ass crack again. The spit lands right on the runner's asshole. He takes the tips of his two fingers and dips them into the spit. He lines them up and in one smooth motion, Hoodie slips his two long fingers into the runner's asshole as far as he can.
"Aaaaahhh," the runner whines and tries to lift himself up and pull away, but he goes nowhere.
'Smack!' Hoodie slaps his ass with the other hand.
"Don't be a bitch," Hoodie growls at him.
Hoodie twists his fingers back and forth a couple times. He then twists them one way and twists them the other way as he slowly pulls them out.
"Aaaahh," the runner whines and squirms again as he feels the fingers twist, trying to open him up.
'Smack!' Hoodie slaps his ass again.
"I don't wanna hear yer whinin', bitch!" Hoodie bellows.
The runner reaches for his shorts he discarded earlier and grabs them in his fist. He brings his shorts-covered fist to his mouth and half-heartedly tries to muzzle himself.
Hoodie plunges his fingers into the runner again. He twists back and forth a few times. He plunges in and out rapidly, then shoves the fingers in and presses them hard into the runner's hole.
"Mmmmm," whines the runner, muffled by his shorts.
Hoodie then slowly slides his fingers out and spits into the runner's hole one more time.
Under normal circumstances, with Hoodie's cock being left unattended, it would lose some of its hardness. But since Hoodie learned that he would be claiming a virgin ass today, his cock has been rock hard and producing pre-cum. Using his hand with the wet fingers, Hoodie reaches down and scoops up the pre-cum dripping down his cock and slathers it up and down his shaft.
Hoodie braces his thighs against the wet couch arm and rests the pre-cum slick head of his cock against the runner's spit covered asshole. The runner can feel the heat on his hole coming from Hoodie's cock head.
Hoodie grabs the runner's hips with his big hands and pushes his cock forward. The runner's hole opens up and just the head of his cock slides in.
"Mmmmm," the muffled sound comes from the runner through his shorts-covered mouth.
"Fuckin' tight," Hoodie hisses softly as he throws his head back.
Hoodie then tightens his grip on the runner's hips. He presses down, pushing the runner's balls further into the arm of the couch.
"Mmmfffppp!" the runner's muffled cry escapes through his shorts.
Hoodie lowers his head, the hood stays up, but his head partially comes out of the hood. Squeezing his big hands even harder on the runner's hips, he thrusts forward, slowly, deliberately, driving his cock all the way in. His balls meet the runner's wet jock sack as his cock hits bottom.
"Aaaaaaa!" the runner screams into his shorts, losing all composure as his cherry is popped so roughly.
Hoodie holds himself there and revels in the warm cocoon enveloping his cock. He leans his head back, slipping it back into his hood.
"Fuckin' tight," he whispers again, and he closes his eyes.
"Ohhhhhhh," the runner moans, sliding the shorts away from his mouth, as the pressure of Hoodie's cock on his prostate begins to bring him pleasure.
"Take it," Hoodie orders, "you ain't no virgin no more."
Hoodie starts to pull out slowly so he can feel the runner's insides massage his cock as it slides out.
"Hhhmmm," the runner softly mews with sadness as the pressure on his prostate is released.
Hoodie pulls out until his head remains inside the runner. He lets a big glob of spit drip down from his mouth and it hits his cock shaft. He tightens the grip of his hands and then calmly and slowly pushes his cock back in until he hits bottom again.
"Fuuuuck," Hoodie whispers as the tightness grabs his cock again.
"Ohhhh," the runner moans when Hoodie is completely inside him and he hits his prostate again.
Hoodie then starts a determined fuck rhythm. He slides out until just his head is inside the runner. He clenches his mouth tightly and pushes back in all the way. His balls sway and slap the runner's jock strap encased balls.
"Hhhhh," Hoodie exhales out loud when he hits bottom.
"Ooooh," the runner moans as his prostate is pleasured.
Hoodie pulls back again until just the head is inside, clenches his jaw, pushes back in, and his balls smack against the runner.
"Hhhhh," Hoodie expels again.
"Ooooh," the runner moans, reveling in the pleasure.
Hoodie stays at this pace for a while, a good ten minutes. Hoodie keeps clenching his jaw as he strokes into the runner, sighing loudly as he hits bottom, immediately followed by the runner's pleasure moans.
Eventually, the sensations start to catch up to Hoodie. The tight hole is really milking his cock. Combined with the raw animal moans coming from the runner, his balls start churning his cum.
Hoodie starts to pick up the pace. He's breathing exclusively through his nose now. When he hits bottom, the sounds get more intense.
"Uugghh!" Hoodie starts to grunt on each thrust inside.
"Ohhhhhhh!" the runner moans longer and louder as Hoodie's cock works its magic on his prostate.
After about nine or ten thrusts at the new pace, Hoodie pulls all the way out. His cock drips pre-cum as it hovers right outside the runner's asshole. He grabs the runner's hips tighter.
"This ass is mine!" Hoodie growls in a deep, raspy voice.
He then slams all the way in. He lifts himself up on his toes, pushing even further inside the runner.
"Fuck," Hoodie whispers.
He starts to cum. He lifts up his chin, sinking his whole head into his hood. He opens his mouth and grunts.
"Uugghh!" Hoodie bellows in his sexy deep voice.
His asshole and taint both spasm hard and the first shot of cum explodes from his cock deep inside the runner.
"Ohhhh!" the runner moans as he gets light-headed, and his body goes limp.
Hoodie's asshole and taint spasm again and his second shot of cum spews out.
"Uugghh!" Hoodie bellows again, never closing his mouth after the first spurt.
Again and again, Hoodie's asshole and taint spasm as he spews shot after shot deep inside the runner.
"Fuckin' tight," Hoodie whispers through clenched teeth as the last spasm hits him.
Hoodie pauses with his cock fully embedded inside the runner. His jaw is still clenched, breathing through his nose. He comes down from his toes. His grip loosens. He begins to slide out. His cock slips out rapidly on the last couple inches and sags in the air. Cum drips down from the runner's ass, seeping onto his jock sack. Spit and cum and ass juices coat Hoodie's cock as it drips onto the arm of the couch.
Hoodie sees handprints on the runner where he was gripping him during the fuck session.
'Smack!' Hoodie slaps the runner's ass.
The runner flinches and mews as his flesh jiggles from the impact.
Hoodie moves to the other side of the couch. He plants his work boot on the back of the cushion near the runner's head. He leans in and digs his other knee into the edge of the cushion on the other side of the runner's head. Hoodie grabs the runner's hair and pulls his face up to his cock. The runner's mouth hangs open loosely and his eyes are open but unfocused.
Before the runner can protest, Hoodie shoves his cock into his mouth about halfway.
"Clean me," Hoodie orders.
The runner gags and spit dribbles out of his mouth.
Hoodie easily slides his not-so-rigid cock all the way down the runner's opened-up throat and into his gullet. The runner coughs and gags. More spit dribbles out of his mouth.
Hoodie pulls all the way out, dangling his cock in front of the runner. The runner gasps for breath before Hoodie shoves his cock all the way back into the runner's mouth.
Hoodie plunges his cock in and out of the runner's mouth a few more times until it's pretty well cleaned off.
Hoodie finally pulls out, let's go of the runner's head, and stands up. The runner closes his mouth and swallows as his head flops back onto the couch. His mouth is dripping as his face lands in a puddle of his own spit.
Hoodie grabs the runner's shorts and wipes the runner's spit off his cock. He tosses the shorts back onto the couch, right next to the runner's face. Hoodie stuffs his cock back into his pants and zips up.
The runner can now feel Hoodie's seed slowing dripping out of his hole, seeping down his jock, staining the arm of the couch. He manages to summon the strength to push himself forward.
"Hhmmppff," he sighs as his haunches come off the arm of the couch, his feet still stay tucked in between the cushion and the arm, but his body is now laying prone on the couch.
Hoodie leaves the room and then shortly comes back. The runner's keys are jangling in his hand. He removes the house key as the runner watches helplessly. Hoodie closes the key in his fist and tosses the rest of the keys onto the runner's shorts.
Hoodie bends down toward the runner's face.
"I'll be back at any time, day or night. Keep that ass tight for me," Hoodie warns him in his deep, sexy voice.
Hoodie stands up, puts his fists into his sweatshirt pouch, hunches his shoulders, drops his head, turns, and walks away.
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If you liked this story, tell me: djwarner1984@hotmail.com And then donate to Nifty: https://donate.nifty.org/
-DJ