Dirty Stories

shooter xxx

The Following Is Mostly Completely True

Clayton is this very hunky young gay guy that's worked in our office for years. Yesterday he emailed out of nowhere asking if I'd like to take a break with him. I was pleased, we've always been friendly, and he's a very sexy man. I just never thought he'd want to hang with me. I quickly replied, saying I'd be glad to hook up with him.

We chatted on a break together, telling each other about our mutual summer plans, boyfriends, and work. No real flirting, maybe because I'm especially cautious at work, and because it could've been merely a social visit, which was fine with me. He's easy to talk to, and whenever he made a point he looked at me with his incredible smile. But then at the end of our conversation, he wanted me to know that he was on his way downstairs; he lowered his voice and grinned, “There's a place I go to work on my dick.” After work we met up at his secret sex lair, obscured by the river and a pile of wooden pallets left under the pier adjacent to our building. The pier is accessible only via a narrow trail that winds between the perimeter fence and the river, the trail gradually ends in riprap and larger boulders installed to protect the bank from the wakes left by the barges that pass by every hour or so. The bank is muddy, but after few feet the ground gets higher and dries out and you find yourself walking among the barnacle encrusted timber pilings that support the back of our building, inhaling sweet musty dried seaweed. Its quite dark at first but when your eyes adjust there's a sort of luminosity from the sunlight reflected off the river a few yards away. Clay had evidently been here a lot, as there was an old blanket spread out, and a bunch of cigarette butts. I knew this place was supposed to be off limits, but I didn't see the harm, and anyway we were on our own time.

Clay took a seat on his blanket, which I was a little surprised at given the snug fit of his Levis. He obviously was still going to the gym regularly, and a fine set of chiseled pecs could readily be seen through his unbuttoned button down shirt. He was fine. He looked up at me, made a breezy inviting gesture, and gazed out over the water. “Sometimes I come here just to get away, but I've never brought anybody here before.”

“It's a great secret spot”, I said, and meant it.

“Yeah, and now you want to see another secret spot?” he asked as he unbuttoned his fly. He hoisted his ass off the blanket long enough to wriggle his jeans down off his waist, and still sitting, pulled them down to his ankles. His dick was already hard, and as he spread his knees and stroked it, he leered at me wickedly. “Take your pants off”, he said. Only to happy to obey, I shed my clothes and felt a cool breeze caress my balls. I was proudly displaying my cock to this horny man, and he reached up and gave it a squeeze. “Nice dick…bring it over here.” I straddled him there, legs spread, grinning, tugging my balls, and brought my dick up to Clay's open mouth. I popped it in and he sucked me, gradually lubing it up with his spit, and then licking the head back and forth and up and down with his tongue. I could only marvel at his face from above. Then he was going up and down over the full length of my shaft, and I moaned in husky pleasure, staring back into the black subterranean landscape of timber and sand, while over my shoulder the glittering river eased on by, unconcerned. My balls hang good and low, and he wrapped a finger around my scrotum and pushed both of them in his mouth, while with his other hand he cranked my dick like a wand. I nearly lost my balance as my knees forgot what to do. His lips parted from my balls with a pop, and I turned around to face his dick and lowered myself on top of him.

His dick was even larger around than my own acceptably huge member, with equally furry balls. I sucked him and spread my knees until his mouth found my organ again, and we blew each other, sixty-nine style, oblivious to our own moans and splorting sounds of dicks and balls and lips and tongues and loads of spit just slipping in and out of each other. I started stretching out his asshole and he changed his moaning to something like a plea, and I fingered him gradually, working him up as far as I could reach, sucking on his great cock at the same time. I got on my knees and spun him around, still on his back, and pulled his muscular thighs to my crotch, and lubing up with some more spit, I went for the plunge into his hungry ass. His arms were spread out wide as he cried out yes, my god yes, fuck me with your hot rod! His ball sack sprang out along his rigid dick and fell again, in time to my perfect ass pounding. His sphincter gripped my dick occasionally, which turned me on even more. His fingers dug into the mud beyond the blanket, and I could tell that he'd let me do anything I wanted. Without pulling my meat out of his well used, but still very tight ass, I managed to flip him onto his stomach, and fucked him doggy style, my knees cradled in the mud beneath the blanket. He begged me not to stop. We fucked a while longer, but eventually from the pit of my guts came the ecstatic charging, heaving, spasming of muscle and nut, and I realized that my prick was about to dump a heavy lot of cum, and I shouted out as I fucked his ass, “I'm coming I'm coming I'm coming!!”. His stomach rippled and then his dick erupted in a fountain of white gushing manhood, flooding up on his stomach, on his chiseled pecks, his nipples, his neck! Then my own load erupted in a shooting song of animal urge, filling his inmost cavity with a warm torrent of Temple's Long Last'n Love Sauce. I collapsed on his glistening body and we lay there, holding each other, watching the sun fall slowly over the golden, glittering river, telling each other about what we'd do together the next time we came there, and we fell asleep like that. Hours later we awoke, and agreed to move in together, adopt a pair of Irish Setters, and buy a minivan. The End.

To go back to the Home Page, Click here