The House Guest

08/17/2016

 
Written by nakddoorsredux)


My recent house guest. A friend of a friend. Shy, quiet, masculine, kind. His presence at my place was a favor for our mutual connection, and for most of the two weeks of his stay, it was all very uneventful and effortless.

I did sense, in those last days, some greater attentions being paid to me by my guest. It made me wonder curiously, if it would lead anywhere.

it did. To this moment. And beyond.

The instant my eye caught this tempting visual, I had the strong sense that he had planned this incident with the feverish hope that I might respond as he imagined. I could have simply walked past the purposefully open door and let him play alone.

But I stopped. And looked. I was struck by his virile beauty that punctuated his soft -spoken soul within. Were I to seriously desire my own sex, I thought, this was the form I would want him in.

It also made me wonder how this semi-stranger knew that there was even a remote possibility with me, risking censure and ousting. Was it desperate desire? intuition?  Or both? Or was he simply taking a long-shot chance?

He hadn’t noticed me at the open door immediately, or pretended not to, really. He knew exactly what he was doing. Slowly and softly coaxing his pre-cum to travel the length of his thickened shaft, shivering as he’d hit a tender place, then smearing his glycerine arousal to use as axle grease for his next slip and slide motions.

When his fist hit his mushrooming head on the next trip upwards, he half-sighed and half-grunted. That’s when his eyes went to mine. He was primed and ready. And I could feel my own sex knocking its girth against my zipper’s stretched door.

There was that brief eternity of silence, our eyes and libidos speaking volumes where no words were uttered. The longing coming from his look was so genuine in its desire. It wasn’t “make me your bitch” or “swallow my cum”. It was “this could be really good. If you want it, its all yours.”

I wanted it. More than I let on, even to myself.

I walked to the guest bed. My first touch was a warm hand that I placed on the thigh he left hanging off of the mattress, moving upward toward his pelvis, but stopping short of his sex. His hips rose off of the sheets and he audibly shivered when I stopped.

I moved myself within reach of his face, and placed his hand on my zipper, which was bursting with rigidity, and a sudden need to free the monster behind it. Without a thought, I had taken the reins of this secret dance, in very certain terms. It was clearly my nature with another of my own gender. I liked finding that instinct that strongly embedded in myself.

I caressed his hair, as he unsheathed my mostly swollen dick, making it clear that I wanted his mouth to complete the rise on my flesh.  As I pressed inward toward his throat, he hummed his joy at having me there, and it make my caress turn more to a grip.

As I rocked across his tongue, I yanked his hand from his cock and replaced it with my own. Now, with every teasing squeeze and slippery stroke, he moaned onto my shaft. We found a tempo we both liked, and could have simply finished there. But having him cede to my will like this was just too delicious to have end this way.

I pulled away from his lips, climbed onto the bed, and laid my shaft’s length against his, our balls kissing, and one hand from each of us holding the twin poles together.

We rocked and rocked, with both tips spilling pre-seed over themselves for further joyous lubrication. I leaned in to kiss him deeply. I wanted to taste my own sex on his tongue.

I found myself slipping downward to bite his nipples, which made his torso rise up against mine. I slid further southward, my cock leaving it’s mate, and I stopped as my lips and tongue signed my name on his lower belly.

I looked up at him. He was hovering in feverish desire and praying that this wasn’t a dream that would suddenly vanish. That I might really go down on his beautiful,loaded tool.

I spoke our very first words. “You’re dying for this.” He nodded with a hot blush.

“If I do”, I warned, “Your ass is mine for the plundering.”

He whimpered. He hadn’t imagined this actually occurring, and now he had his dirty dream demanding what he longed for.

The only word he managed was “Pleeeease”.  Such a polite boy.

I slid down, locked eyes with him, and kissed his slippery crown. He was unable to breathe, awaiting my open mouth and full assault. If he could speak in that moment, he would have begged. I made him wait even longer. Then I went down on him like a beggar at his first banquet, and one that he meant to both devour and make last.

I kept this man edging and spilling and arching and moaning past anything he may have ever had. I loved the power of my own position, topping from below. Holding the strings and pulling them to make the naked marionette dance for me.

When I could feel him almost unable to hold on any longer, I stopped and he gasped.

“How badly do you want to coat my throat?” Wordless tears feel from his eyes. I smiled, "Good…”.

I went at his sex for the kill. I wanted to feel his lust suddenly power-shoot across my tongue and into my gullet, while I milked him for every drop he  didn’t even know was there. His orgasm was thunderously beautiful. My cock was dripping from the force of his eruption, and my mouth was a pool of his shameless hunger for me.


In that moment, I was a whore for his cock and cum, but even more so, a whore for power over another male’s body. By taking him in this way, I had completed our verbal contract. His hot little mancunt was mine for the taking. And in my mind, the caveat was, as often and as savagely as I wanted, until he left my abode.

I moved up to his breathless face when his body eased its wild twitching. He was still spilling on his belly and I slid my cock into that pool to use as lube for the oncoming breach.

When he had enough breath to spare, I kissed him hard and deep, sharing the load I had just gulped from his thick hose. “How long have you been saving hat up for me?”, I asked pointedly.

He blushed. I think he’d been hoping from day one, much to my amazement. What was I doing not noticing that back then? And damn for all the time wasted.

As things abated, and kisses turned to flesh bites, and cum smears across lips before the next trades, I said plainly, “Ready for the rest of our contract?”

He was momentarily puzzled in his post-orgasmic haze, but then my meaning registered. he nodded a yes.

“Good”, I said, as I moved up and flipped his dense body over. He was like a ragdoll, there for my playtime. I lifted his hips ad pushed his thighs apart. Then  I hard-swatted his firm ass cheeks, and said in a surprising command-like tone, “Don’t move. I have lube. I want to get in deep.”

His “Unf!!” was all I needed to make me grin wickedly, and take another long look at the stunning visual before me. Had I been able to order a male body to fuck the first time, this was it. I was in manlust now, full-blown and ravenous. I was already considering not letting him leave. Ever.

When I returned, and poised myself for the breach and the tease and the full length plundering, his pucker was intently dilating, as it silently pleaded for my assault.

That first outward head tease at the opening gave my cock a hot spark. Fuck, it felt so promising. I pressed forward and popped that ‘shroom inside of his grip. Geezus, the tightness was already addictive, and he was unconsciously spreading and moaning. I swatted his ass hard. “Don’t be a whore. Were going to make this first one last.”

“Ohhh, gawwd” was his hoarse whisper.

I was as good as my word, and it took all of the will-power I had to hold back for awhile, and make him beg for the power-fuck. I wanted to savor every inch of the drilling. First, a hard shove to breach for more depth; then, a slow, rhythmic rocking to hold said depth, and often a startling  reversal right to the rim, and a fast shallow-fuck to make him claw the mattress and hold on for dear life.

Once I was ¾ of the way plunged inside of his girth-wrapping canal, I began the rough ride that neither of us would be able to top. I grabbed his hips like handles and began a savage jackhammering. His fingers splayed on the bed, and his hips arched like an alley cat in heat.

I leaned over him and bit his shoulder and fisted his hair. I fucked him like I wanted to break his bones and turn them into ash, and I could hear his wild song of surrender begging for more.

I reached under to find his cock hardening again. I grabbed it hard and whispered “You little cock slut…”, and it made him moan out loud.

I went at him so hard that my balls felt like they might find their way inside of him as well. And when I started to cum, I howled at the fucking moon, and drove home so hard that I thought the bed might break along with his spine.

I emptied what felt like pints of cumseed into his ass with every wildly long spurt that shot from my over-forced opening. If I could have thought in the moment, I would have recognized how much more intense this orgasm was from any other in recent memory. And if we started like this… this intensely, well… there was no letting him leave.

We both collapsed, me on top his splayed form, and still plugged deeply into his core. We were both panting with dirty bliss, and half in disbelief that this feral fantasy actually happened for real.

“Is this what you hoped for?” His nod of assent was eager, but words did not come.

“Since you arrived?” This time, he was more tentative. But after a pause, nodded yes again.

“Do this often as a house guest?”  

“Never”, was his first word.

“Good.” I let that twirl in the air before continuing.

“You’re not leaving Sunday.”

There was something boyish in his next response, “I have to…”

“You don’t. Change your plans.” I paused, then added, “I need to catch up for lost time here. Even if I have to tie you down.”

His audible arousal sound made my soul grin.

“So”, I repeated. “You’re not leaving.”

He half-whispered, “I"m not leaving.”

And as I exited his perfect asscunt, and turned him over to have him clean my cock of our wickedness, I smirked as I added, “You may not be getting dressed ever again either.

There was nothing for him to say. My dirty cock was in his throat again. Just where he (and I) wanted it.


 


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