This story is mostly fiction. It contains sex between consulting adult men. If you are underage, and, depending upon where you live, are not of legal age to read stories with adult sexual content, you must close your browser immediately. This story has been written for adults but, if as an adult, sexual activity between men offends your sensibilities, you must likewise, close your browser immediately. Enough information has been provided for you to make an appropriate decision based upon your age. It is your responsibility to act accordingly. This story is my own original composition, please do not copy it. Comments and constructive criticism are welcome but flames will be ignored. I hope you enjoy the story.
Viral transmission cannot occur when you read a story but it will happen during unprotected sex. This is a story. No one gets sick. Not so in real life. Do not bareback. Practice safe sex and live disease free.
Martin reminded me of one of our previous conversations, when we spoke about the deterioration of his marriage and his confusion over what direction he should take. He said I advised him not to do anything rash. Instead, I suggested perhaps working a bit less and finding a hobby or engaging in some activity he found enjoyable.
"Well, I'm taking today off. And to boot, I've found something enjoyable to do. Even though you exasperate me with your embarrassing questions, I like spending time with you."
"The feeling is entirely mutual!" I said, beaming.
Although I contended I could golf in my own clothes, Martin insisted on outfitting me from head to toe.
"I won't be laughed off the course!" He said sternly.
"Oh yes you will," I said, "wait until you and everyone else sees my complete lack of skill. I'm not athletic at all!"
After a disastrous golf lesson in the backyard, we dressed in golf shirts and shorts then walked to the car. Martin was firm about wearing socks with the golf shoes. He was repelled by the idea of wearing shoes with only bare feet.
"Nothing worse than sweaty toes stinking up an expensive pair of good golf shoes," he said.
I was more than willing to comply since the backs of my ankles chafed uncomfortably if I chose to go without socks.
"Are you sure I just can't hang out and watch you play?"
"That isn't done," he said seriously.
"They do it on TV!"
"This isn't a tournament! Just trust me. I'll help you. Meet me halfway."
"Go with the flow?"
"Yeah," He said.
As he started the car, I sighed and tried to relax, to be in the moment.
"You're enjoying watching me squirm!" I said.
He laughed.
"In a way," he admitted, "but all I really wanted to do was share something I enjoyed and maybe broaden your horizons."
He turned his head and winked knowingly.
When he saw my mischievous grin, he said firmly, "Don't get any ideas, this club has a proper atmosphere. No hanky-panky. Save that for later! Do I have your word?"
"Yes," I said in all sincerity.
"I'm going to let any groups behind us play through. Do you know what that means?"
"Yes. Our game will be slower because of me," I said, kind of relieved, "and we don't want to hold anybody up. At least they won't be standing there watching me and laughing."
"Just relax, you're in good hands," he said gently, " I want you to enjoy this."
"Oh I will," I replied, "golf courses are beautiful and I put my camera in my pocket. I want lots of pictures, especially of you showing your sexy legs."
"Try to keep your mind on the game."
"Oh I will!" I said, "Especially on that club between your legs."
"Your incorrigible!"
"No I'm not! We have unfinished business."
Martin gave me a look.
"Please! No funny stuff! Don't embarrass me at the club, everyone knows me."
"Okay, I give you my word as a man," I promised for the second time.
He nodded silently, seemingly satisfied.
I did try my best but my drives were pitiful. At one point, when Martin's back was turned, I was tempted to just throw the ball. There wouldn't have been much improvement though. I have a weak arm.
His coaching was excellent but my lack of natural ability didn't help much with the long shots. Even with Martin's warnings, I often found myself in the traps. However my putts improved with each hole.
The scenery was beautiful and I had plenty of time for pictures as different parties played through. I even managed some good action shots of Martin driving.
"Am I being too much the tourist?" I asked.
"No," Martin said, "I'm gratified you seem to be enjoying yourself."
"Are you?" I said.
"Definitely!"
He treated me to lunch at the club restaurant after our game. Being a weekday, I was amazed at how many of the patrons were men. However, the reason for this became quite clear. Networking was in progress all during lunch. Martin was as engaged as the other men. Women were similarly occupied but it was on a smaller scale. After all, this was Northern New England, not Southern California.
Martin was apologetic.
"Business is business," I said, "it's fine."
I occupied myself with the indoor scenery. There was a lot of testosterone in that restaurant. Maybe it was my imagination but I thought Martin seemed to be very aware of the attention I gave to watching all the men in the room. I had the distinct impression he was jealous. I was already thinking how I could use that to my advantage later in the day.
Martin had several beers with lunch and I drank water. While I was having my coffee, he asked if I would mind driving if he were to have few martinis.
"Not at all," I said.
The frenzy of the business activity going on around me was fascinating, as were the men doing it. Martin introduced me to some of his contacts. While most gave me a businesslike handshake, there were a few who gave me pause. I was extremely discreet but I made mental notes for later.
It was mid-afternoon when we walked in the blazing sun to the parking lot. I noticed the heat made Martin a bit unsteady. I sat him down on a bench and went to get the car.
"I apologize for having too much to drink," he said as I drove.
"No need, I'm fine with it."
"Sure you are!" He said gruffly.
I was surprised at his tone but I said nothing. He continued.
"Can't wait till you get me home so you can take advantage. I saw you eying all those men."
I laughed. "Go ahead, say it!"
"You dirty little whore! How many men have you had anyway?"
The drink had really loosened his tongue. Was it also his insecurity speaking?
"Repeat after me Martin, 'you're a little cum dump!'"
Ignoring me and said, "You slut! I'm gonna cum down your throat and make you swallow it, bitch! Your belly was made for my cum."
He was on a roll! I was hard as a rock.
"Mmm...talk dirty Daddy!" I said. Then spotting a store, "There's a pharmacy! I need to stop for something."
I parked, went inside and returned a few minutes later.
"What's that?" he asked nodding at the plastic bag.
"Just something I need," I said casually.
It was an enema bulb syringe and some lube.
Martin needed a nap. I read the newspaper and eventually prepared a light supper from the previous days leftovers and some odds and ends I found in the fridge.
It was after six in the evening when he sauntered into the kitchen.
"Think I can have a beer?"
"Of course you can! This is your house!"
In fact, he also drank another one with supper.
"I don't know what came over me in the car? Look, I'm sorry...can I ask you something?"
I nodded an assent.
"I saw the way you looked at all those men today and I know you've had way more experience than I've had." He paused before asking, "Am I just another notch on your belt?"
"No Martin! If that were really the case, we wouldn't have even had this second time. I...I care for you or I wouldn't be here right now."
"You mean that, don't you?"
"Yes, I do! Sounds like you're jealous, Martin!"
I saw the heat flare briefly in his eyes.
"There's only one cure for that!" I continued.
"I'm afraid to ask," he said. "what are you going to do to me?"
"Oh no buddy," I replied, "you've got it all wrong. It's what you are going to do to me."
After supper and a couple more beers, Martin excused himself. When I asked to come along he issued a resounding "no!" He was definitely uncomfortable.
"You can't come, I have to go."
"Pee?"
"No! No! The other!"
"Let me help you, let me clean you," I pleaded.
"No! I can't take a dump with you standing there. I just can't! It's disgusting! It's private! This is so embarrassing!"
"At least let me wash you when you're done. I bought something at Rite Aid to clean you."
"What?"
"Not now. Go do what you have to do. I'll show you later."
I tidied-up the kitchen while he took care of business and showered. When his bathroom door opened, I showed him the bulb syringe. He eyed it suspiciously.
"Let me clean you out," I said.
"No! I'm clean!"
"Come on, I won't hurt you, I promise."
"Why do you want to do this?"
"I want you clean. I'm going to stick my tongue in you."
"That's sick!" He said in disgust.
"It will make you good and horny," I insisted.
"I'm already good and horny," he replied.
I went into the bathroom, filled the bulb with warm water and lubed the tip. He stood there watching me.
"Lie on your side on the bed and raise the opposite knee towards your chest."
I'll never know why he complied but he did.
After pulling down the waistband of his boxer shorts, I slowly pushed the plastic tip into his anus and began to squeeze the rubber bulb gently.
He grunted.
"I know, it makes your belly feel full. Try to hold the water in for just a bit."
However, Martin made a mad dash for the bathroom. There was just enough time to seat himself on the toilet as his bowels expelled their contents with great force. The sounds of the liquid rushing out of his rectum and the accompanying loud flatulence made his face beet red.
"I am beyond embarrassed," he said, "I'm mortified!"
"We need to repeat it until the water runs clear. Just bend over and raise one foot onto the toilet seat. You won't have as far to run."
I think he wanted to strangle me but he did as I asked.
When Martin was done, I shaved, shit and showered with the bathroom door wide open. He turned on the exhaust fan and opened the window. Then it was my turn with the bulb syringe.
"You want to do it for me?" I asked. "You can get your revenge."
"No," he said, "I think I'll get a beer instead."
And with that he disappeared.
I was almost finished when he returned. He slouched shirtless in the bathroom doorway, with a thumb hooked in the waistband of his boxer shorts, drinking his beer. I was on the bowl squirting water out of my ass. When the rumbles came, I laughed.
"Doesn't it embarrass you to have me watch while you're sitting on the bowl and farting?"
"No, I did the same thing to you!"
Martin scowled at me and left the room again. He returned with another beer and it didn't take him long to finish that one either. That made four beers this evening plus the other ones and the martinis at lunch. I saw the change in his face. He was loose and the hard edge he had on the drive home from the club had returned.
"I don't know what you're planning after all those enemas," he said, "but I'm not sticking my tongue up your ass and you are definitely not going to fuck me."
"You are correct on both counts!" I said, as I approached the side of the bed.
"You're goddamned right I am!" he replied.
I was ready for him. My ass was lubed and ready to go. The tube was on the bedside table.
"You know Martin, I think some of the colleagues you introduced at lunch wanted to fuck me. Did you notice that?"
"No but I saw how you looked at them. You wanted them, you little slut! I could see it in your eyes!"
"Why Martin, I do believe you're jealous."
He approached me, put the open palms of his hands on my shoulders and pushed me to my knees. His boxer shorts were tented and there was a small wet spot.
"Blow me you little cocksucker!"
"No!"
"Whadda' ya mean, no!"
"No! I won't!"
I pulled his dick out of the fly and began slapping my face with it. Then I had him hold it while I grabbed his hand and continued the buffeting on my cheeks and mouth. Martin got the idea and all on his own began hitting me hard with his meaty cock. This stimulated him and he leaked like crazy. The pre-cum splashed all over with each blow. My face was adorned with it.
"I don't care how hard you hit me," I said taunting him, "I won't suck your big fat cock, you fuckin' horn dog."
And with that, I reached for the lube and slathered it on his dick. I threw a towel on the bed, laid down on my back, pulled my knees to my chest and crooked my finger beckoning him.
He crawled onto the bed with hands and knees but seemed unsure of what to do. I grabbed his dick and pressed it to my anus.
"Push!" I said.
He did, I screamed, and he froze.
"Stay right there Daddy, just wait a minute or two."
The alcohol was really working on him now. I could see it in his eyes.
I twiddled his tits and fingered his bellybutton slow and deep.
"Hot," he said, "you're so hot in there. It's like fire."
"Does it burn?" I asked.
"Noooo..."
And I could see him crumbling, giving in to the feeling. I put my legs on his shoulders and ran my hands over his strong back and hard buttocks.
I pushed my ass onto his cock and he started to move.
"This is what all those men wanted, you horny fuck. And now you've got it! What do you think?"
"I think you like this; I think you want this," he said, as he slid deeper into me and groaned with eyes closed.
I taunted him through gritted teeth, "Fuck me! Fuck me good or I'll get one of those other men to do it instead!"
"You filthy slut," he sneered, as he hit his stride, "is this what you want?"
"Yes!"
I grabbed his face and tongue kissed him wildly.
Martin responded by picking up the pace.
"So long..." he said, "it's been so long..."
He closed his eyes and I could see an expression of pure pleasure on his sweaty face.
"It's all yours," I said, "anytime you want. Use my ass! Breed it!"
He nodded.
"Men need to fuck, Martin! It's what you need! Fuck me! Make me your bitch!"
His face contorted as he plowed me.
"Am I your bitch?"
"Yes. You're my bitch only! No other men. Promise me! Mine only! Only me..."
Then he cried out.
"Only you!" I answered as I held him while his body stiffened.
He shuddered and shook with his orgasm. It was hard for me to believe the way he came. After all, he was not a young man but he was certainly one hot daddy! "Stay in me! Stay in me, Daddy! Fuck me slow. Please fuck me slow!"
He moved slowly in and out of me. His gaping mouth a testament to the exquisite sensitivity of his cock. I beat myself off and quickly shot. When my rectum contracted and relaxed in orgasm around his penis, he grimaced at the limits of his endurance.
He collapsed in a sweaty heap on the bed. I kissed him all over. He didn't speak, he only moaned. I rolled him over on his belly, massaged his back and at the same time, pushed my tongue into his ass. He finally spoke.
"What are you doing to me? Oh my God! What are you doing to me?"
He whimpered for a bit until I heard him begin to snore softly. I moved up, put an arm around him and sighed. It was then it hit me. This all seemed very right. I realized I was in love. I had told myself not to get too involved but by now it was already too late.
I fell asleep holding him.
Awake the next morning before the alarm clock, I occupied myself with watching Martin sleep. It was amazing to see the years melted away by his complete repose. He looked like a little boy. My adorable Martin. But he wasn't mine now, was he? He had a wife. But at least in those quiet moments, I had my fantasies.
His eyes popped open after a time and he said, "I need to get to the office."
Even in our rush to leave, I saw Martin stare at me several times with a wistful look. I'm sure he was able to see the love in my eyes when I looked at him. That is, if he chose to see it. He couldn't possibly be feeling anything for me, could he? No, he's a real man! Yet his scrutiny unnerved me.
As we parted near our parked cars, he informed me his wife was scheduled to return on Friday.
"We'll play it by ear," he said with a slight frown.
Does he want to see me again or not I thought?
"Okay!" I said casually. "See you!"
And I drove off, watching him in the rear-view mirror as he stood and followed the progress of my retreating car. I didn't know what to make of it.
Then it happened. I felt a pang, the floodgates opened and the tears came. I told myself I was too old to let this happen, too familiar with the emotional roller coaster of love to ride it again. I had been there, done that more times than I really wanted. But I couldn't deny my feelings. I was head-over-heels in love with him. And I'm still not sure, even at my age, if I chose love or if it chose me.