Already in senior high school, I was fantasizing about my teachers. Especially the not so young ones, in their fifties or so. Mating with a mature male, this was the most extreme sexual experience I could possibly think of. For many years though, I never considered doing it for real. It happened that older men would cast unambiguous looks at me now and then. And it did struck me like thunder, because it confirmed the possibility of an intercourse with those I regarded as the unlikeliest sex partners. But I was too afraid, too ashamed. And it was precisely fear and shame that made the urge even stronger.
In the following years, I had quite a few guys, but I always felt it lacked the strong sensations that would fulfill me. I imagined being slam fucked like in a hardcore flick. I longed for male odors, hairy chests, balding foreheads, greying hair. The man of my wet dreams was never to be seen on porn magazines. However, being seen together with someone old enough to be my father, even in a bar or a club, there was no way. I wouldn't talk about it to my friends either, because I didn't want to sound creepy. Thus, being sexually dominated by a mature male remained just a closeted and pervasive obsession of mine. Every now and then, I would imagine such a scene when masturbating, and it never failed to make me cum.
Until that day when I'm on a sex chat, and this guy pokes me. He seems to be the avatar of my dark fantasy. His username tells it all: "Old and bold". Writes he's 55, stocky, hairy and balding. He's after a submissive twink for a rough sex romp. I wonder if he's real, I'm afraid he could be a sicko, but above all, I am tormented by curiosity and lust. He gives me a telephone number, and I'm like: if I let this chance go, I won't be able to stop thinking about it.
His voice is deep, and his tone dead serious. He asks me very direct sexual questions about what I am willing to do, getting to the point in a matter of fact way, like he was conducting a job interview. He specifies what sort of underwear I should be wearing, summons me to meet him at Monument Square at 10 PM, and then hangs up.
The square is lit up and magnificent at night, but there are not many people around, so that I can spot him from afar. The description he gave of himself is accurate, but as soon as I see him coming near, I get scared. He's tall, bold, dressed in dark, and gives me a mean straightforward glance. He looks like some imposing politician or businessman. The idea of physical intimacy with such an austere man of that age sounds crazy and surreal, but I am mesmerized. He walks by me several times, always with the same ominous look on his face, like a predator roaming for his prey. He probably concludes I'm up to his standards, since he eventually stops in front of me and tells me: "this way".
I follow him through an alley into an elegant old building. As we take the elevator, he keeps silent, his eyes cast down, his mouth drawing a thin line. I can't even dare to look up at him. I can smell the scent of his bitter aftershave. He lets me enter an almost empty apartment. There is mat on the floor, and just a few pieces of furniture: some chairs and a cupboard with a large mirror on it. There is also a floor lamp, which gives out a dim glow, but one can see clearly though with the bright lights from the square, as shutters and curtains are kept open.
To get it on in front of the window, without even pulling the curtains, taking the risk of being spotted in the gloom from outside, here's what would thrill me in other circumstances. But here I am, in this deserted flat, about to get sexually dominated by an eerie fellow who's way more than twice my age, and I'm freaking out. He doesn't give me time to think about it though. As soon as we hung up our coats, he's already giving instructions with a stern voice.
- Take your clothes off. Just keep your pants and your socks on. Then get on your knees, hands on your head.
I'm doing as I'm told. My throat is tight while he's standing in front of me, looking at me stripping with a resolute frown. In a minute, I am almost naked, while he remains fully dressed in suit and tie. I am making myself totally ready and submissive for this intimidating gentleman, as if I were on a slave market. Then he moves ahead unto me, and I feel the touch of his big hairy hands on my skin, as he is fondling my body. He grips my tits and plucks them between his fingers. They harden instantly.
— Open your mouth and spit in my hands.
He moistens my erect nipples with his wet fingers. It works on me like a lust bomb, and I feel like whining, even if I manage to keep control. I'm down on my knees, hands on my neck, totally offered. A heat wave is invading my belly, and the unease is quickly turning into a violent arousal pushing up mercilessly. My pants are swelling, my anus is twitching, my breath is getting fast. Standing in front me, the man remains unflappable as he inserts a finger into my mouth and turns it around casually, whispering dirty language on a quiet tone.
— Your tits have a hard-on... You're ready to get punked, huh? You'll do everything I say?
He grabs my head and presses it on his crotch. I can feel his penis rising up through his trousers.
— Why don't you use your your hands and handle that bulge, boy. Unclasp my belt and pull down my zipper. Give me a good boner, make me rock hard.
He's holding my head with one hand, and keeps tickling my tits with the other. I am about to unwrap my package. I hear the buckle clink, the flyer give a short buzz, and I feel I'm opening the gates of hell. I lay my staggering hands on his tepid crotch, and I can already feel the outline of his club bulging in his pants.
— Ok, now shove your hands up there and work my ass.
It feels weird to massage the buttocks of a mature gentleman whom I have just met ten minutes ago. I pull his pants down, and a majestic cock bounces up in front of my eyes. He makes it dangle in the air, and slaps it with a thud against my face. The man is hard like a bull, and his frown meaner than ever, but I feel no longer scared, I know what's coming up. Good old rough and nasty hardcore. That's what I longed for, and this guy means business. His voice is getting louder, and his orders more explicit.
— So what do you think, boy? Sniff it good. It smells like big cocks do! That's some piece, huh? Come on, don't be afraid, take it in your hands, it won't bite! Say hello to my cock! You're gonna have it all inside shortly, you know that, don't you?
Sure, that's what I'm on my way for. I rub my face against the firm skin flute and inhale its fragrance. It exudes a definitely male odor, sweet and strong like good cheese. I take a deep breath of it while I'm weighing his bag in my hands. He shoves my head in his crotch and has me lick the soft spot between his thighs and genitals, on both sides. His skin is thick, but there his flesh is thin. I feel the taste of manhood on my tongue. A droplet of precum is already forming at the tip of the head, and he grunts with his deep voice:
— That's it, play with my balls, untangle my fuzz with your fingers. Aaahh! I'm gonna make myself comfortable...
He removes his tie, unclenches his cuff links, undoes the buttons of his shirt one by one. Underneath, he's wearing a tank top, that reveals all of his belly and hairy chest. He takes off his shoes and trousers, pulls his pants down to mid-thigh, and stands in front of me with, pointing his member at my face. His long black socks are still on his feet, and I'm horny as hell.
