Date: Fri, 22 Aug 2014 20:42:33 -0400
From: Natty <bacteriaburger@gmail.com>
Subject: Playdate

Playdate
By Natty Soltesz

Naptime. The girls were asleep downstairs. Allen and I, in a lazy state
from a lunch of chicken nuggets and french fries (the girls' choice), were
sprawled out next to each other on the couch, yawning and gazing at the TV.

Just another rainy Sunday afternoon playdate. Allen and I had been doing
this for the past two months, giving ourselves a moment of peace while the
girls played with each other, mostly on days when his wife and my
girlfriend were at work.

We met through our women, in fact. The two of us instantly hit it
off. Allen was freshly thirty like me but looking as fine as I had in my
early twenties. We liked to work out together. Sometimes we all got
together to drink. He was a partier like me. Lately, though, all these
activities had taken a back seat to child rearing. Playdates were the only
time we really got to hang out.

Allen, wearing nothing but a pair of nylon running shorts, his smooth and
muscular body sinking back against the couch, flipped through the channels
until he came to a documentary about the turn-of-the-21st-century rave
scene in North America.

I'd been there, back when I was a senior in college, taking ecstasy and
liquid acid and throwing myself into the sweaty throngs of young bodies
dancing the night away without a care in the world. I missed those days,
those wonder years of peace and prosperity. Mostly I missed the hot
tattooed guy I'd made out when I was candyflipping one hallowed Halloween
rave evening.

We'd carried on a pretty torrid and passionate affair, and I explored my
burgeoning sexuality with him from top to bottom before I got scared about
the whole thing and scurried into a relationship with a Social Sciences
major from the local girls-only liberal arts college. One year later beget
our bouncing baby girl, and my hunky tattooed trick (with the eight-inch
dick - I know because we measured it once) fell into the deep, red,
velvet-lined recesses of my memory. I still had some semblances of my youth
- all of my hair and my macho, cut body - but I'd went from living on the
edge to living in the suburbs of Chicago. It left something to be desired.

Allen adjusted his golden-haired legs, spreading his thighs until his knee
rested against mine.

"I went to one of those once," he said.

"I went to a lot of those."

"Yeah? They were too expensive for my taste. I dug the scene though. Kinda
freaky," he said, lowering his eyebrows and curling his soft pink lips into
a scandalous smirk. It nearly gave me a hard-on, that look. In the lazy
Sunday afternoon air, though, pretty much anything gave me a hard-on.

Just then, the documentary started talking about the mutability of sexual
desire that was present in the rave scene. They could've been talking about
my life. Interspersed with the commentary were a few shots of boys kissing
other boys. I waited with baited breath to see how Allen reacted.

He let out a low whistle.

"See what I mean?" he said, nudging my thigh with his. "Freaky."

"So that's the kind of freaky you were talking about..." I was chiding him
and testing him at the same time.

Allen shrugged.

"Never say never, man," he said. "I messed around with a guy once back in
the day. Didn't scar me for life or anything. In fact it was pretty fun."

"Wow," was all I could say.

"What about you, you ever mess around with a guy?"

"Yeah, I have. Before I met Susan, I mean."

"You like it?" he said, sitting up next to me. The house was still as still
could be.

"Yeah," I said, the word coming out raggedy on my breath.

"That's cool," Allen said, smiling. There was no doubt what was going on
here. The trick was getting one of us to say something about it. We watched
the TV, on which was a commercial for an antidepressant.

"Would it be weird to say that I'm kind of turned on right now?" Allen
said.

"No," I said. Allen took my hand and put it on his thigh. My heart was
beating out of my chest. I didn't move it away.

He reached for the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head. Like I
said, I work out pretty regularly, and I've got a nice tight stomach and
pecs that are smattered with dark hair, quite a contract to Allen's smooth
and sexy body. He ran his hands down my chest and I did the same to him,
finally resting my hand on the boner in his shorts.

Without a word, Allen stood up in front of me and slipped off his
shorts. Of course I was immediately focused on his dick - rock-hard and
beautiful, standing up from a healthy set of shaved balls and a trimmed
patch of light-brown pubes - but what really got me was the tiny, dark-blue
tattoo next to his cock. It was the head of Woody Woodpecker.

I touched his dick, stroking up and down its length. Allen buckled his
knees, softly moaning as I stroked him off. I stood up then, my own piece
bulging out the front of my basketball shorts, and Allen took the liberty
of slipping them off of me.

I had my thong underwear on underneath. Allen looked up at me when he saw
what they were, a smirk on his face. Freaky. He slipped that off too and
watched my fat, uncut cock bounce up and fall back down. I've got a pretty
thick piece and Allen seemed fascinated by it. He took it in his hand,
working the foreskin back and forth as we stroked each other.

Allen reached for my meaty ass and pulled me toward him. Our chests pressed
together, our cocks poking hotly into each other's stomachs. We looked at
each other.

"This is crazy, man," Allen said.

"I know but it's so hot."

"You're so sexy."

"You too," I said. He brought his mouth to my ear.

"I want you to fuck my ass with that big cock," he said.

"I want you to fuck me too," I said. "We can fuck each other in the ass."
Allen rocked his body into mine.

"Sounds fucking hot," he said.

I was ready to give it to him first. That's how I'd always liked it with my
tattooed boy, fucking him up the butt fast and deep until I lost my load,
then working up a second load while I let him do me for as long as I could
stand.

"The girls are asleep," I said, like I was assuring us.

"They won't be up for at least an hour," he said. I took Allen by the neck
and tossed him face-first on the couch, conjuring up some of the deeply
hidden fantasies I'd harbored about him in the process. Allen seemed
totally into it. He pressed his head down into the couch as I spread his
legs, putting his tan, muscled ass on display. He had a slick, pink hole
that looked clean and inviting. I knelt down and dove my face inside.

Allen shuddered, his hole instinctively clenching up as I strived to work
my tongue inside. He tasted musky and manly, a totally different sensation
from eating my girlfriend's pussy. I felt like I could go rough with him,
felt like that was how it should be, in fact.

I worked a fat finger into his hole and had him panting in anticipation
before I realized we'd need some lube. He directed me to a bottle of lube
in his dresser drawer, and stash of condoms in his work briefcase, and
pretty soon I was all ready to go.

"Take it slow on me, man, it's been a while."

"You've been fucked before though, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I have. It's just been a while. Once I get used to it you can
go to town." I liked the sound of that.

I pressed forward until the head of my cock popped inside. It took a minute
for Allen to adjust. I looked down at this perfect male body, the same body
that he covered up with a suit and tie during the week, and wondered how
lucky I was to be in this position.

I managed to sink the rest of myself inside and I waited a few minutes
until Allen gave the go ahead with a breathless "OK." I grabbed on to his
firm hips, slowly working out, marveling at the tightness with which his
asshole grabbed my dick. There was nothing like fucking a horny, willing
ass, and Allen's was about as willing as they come.

We got into a rhythm, fucking hot and heavy, two guys who'd randomly found
an outlet for their pent-up lust. I reached down and stroked Allen's cock
while I fucked him, running my hand up to tweak his little nipples, biting
and sucking on his tender neck. The TV droned on in the background,
commercials and shows and bullshit galore. All of it was meaningless.

I lay back on the couch and let Allen ride me for a while, watching his
dong flap up and down as he speared his ass on my thick cock. He had a look
of intense concentration on his face, almost like he was trying his best
not to lose it. We had at least half an hour, after all. No need to rush
things.

He got off my cock which sucked out of his ass and slapped back onto my
stomach. In the same motion, he lifted my legs up in the air and started
feasting on my big, hairy ass. I say big because I know I've got a big
ass. I'm not immune to the aging process, I've gained some dumps in my
truck. But it works on me, I think, and Allen seemed to wordlessly
agree. His face disappeared into my ass, his face and tongue straining
against my quivering hole. I ripped off the rubber and started stroking my
cock as he ate me out.

Allen got me lubed up, got his cock rubbered up, and sidled up into
position while I was still lying on my back. He mounted me with ease, that
cocky smirk still on his face. I fucking loved it. I wanted to be
somebody's bitch for a change; I was sick of responsibilities, I wanted to
be used and abused. Allen shoved all of his cock inside me with one mighty
thrust. I nearly yelled out but managed to catch myself. The sensation was
intense but it was what I wanted. He was taking me for his own and I was
determined to give it right back.

Allen rested his body on top of mine, humping away at my ass. He got his
whole body into it, and I took hold of his firm ass, feeling it flex and
harden as he worked his dick in and out of my tight butt. Our chests
brushed together, our bodies working as one. I looked up at him.

"Oh man, your ass is getting me off so bad," he said.

"I can't believe we're doing this," I said.

"I'm gonna fuck you ever Sunday from now on," he said. "Every Sunday and
every chance I get, I want to fuck you."

"Same here, man, same here." One breathless instant later I was kissing
him, our tongues vying for positions in each other's mouths. My thick
thighs were wrapped around his tight athletic waist. We were fucking like
lovers in love. It was too much.

"I think I'm gonna cum," I said, direct stimulation coming from nothing
more than his slick stomach rubbing against my cock. The kiss had done all
the real work.

"Do it, man. I wanna make you cum." And so, as he fucked his dick into me
with abandon, my cock started letting out hot, gushing jets of come, which
forced me to strain to keep my voice down. The come spread between out
pistoning bodies, our heaving chests. Allen slid out.

"I wanna eat your load," he said, leaning down to lick all the sticky stuff
off of me. He threw the condom aside as he feasted on my body and my baby
batter, even taking some from the tip of my dick, sucking my cock like
straw and drawing out the last remnants of my cream.

"Eat me too, buddy," he said, kneeling over my face and whacking his cock
furiously. I took the head of his dick between my lips and sucked for all
it was worth, working my tongue firmly against the head. I wanted nothing
more at that moment then to eat the essence of him, to drink it down like
some kind of communion.

Allen's balls scrunched up into his body and a shot of steaming salty jizz
hit the back of my throat. I swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed,
aghast at how much the taste of his load was turning me on, as if he was
purging his own desire and sending it into me. When he'd came all he could
cum, he rested his body on top of mine, his tongue immediately going into
my mouth to taste the remnants of his load. It was an intimate moment.

It was quickly broken up by the sound of footsteps coming from the basement
staircase.

"Daaad, our movie's over." My breath caught in my throat as the knob
turned, Allen and I jumping up frantically expecting our daughters to catch
us in the act. The knob turned, but the door didn't open.

"Oh I locked it," Allen whispered as he slipped on his shorts.

"Thank fucking God," I sighed, and threw on my clothes. "Just a minute,
honey!"

I got a paper towel from the kitchen and cleaned us both up, then looked up
at Allen. He still had some of my sperm dripping off of his chin. I licked
it up, kissed him firmly. Then we let the girls out.

So I ask myself this, as I eagerly wait for the next playdate to arrive,
not sure if I should tell my girlfriend, or suggest that he tells his wife,
or break the whole thing off in the interests of all involved, or keep
carrying on under radar, pretending that it's the most sensible decision:
Why is life so fucking complicated?

Why?

>>>>

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