Date: Mon, 14 Mar 2016 23:20:14 +0000 (UTC)
From: simon peter <simon23232@yahoo.com>
Subject: Getting Older but not Wiser

Dear Reader

This story, like many of my other stories, has elements that are based on
real personal experiences.  However, the names and places are all
fictitious.

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simon23232@yahoo.com

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Simon

Getting Older but not Wiser

By Simon Peter

As men get older, a lot of things change, not only physically, but
intellectually and emotionally.

Preferences change. Perspectives change. Even worldviews change.

I never used to like younger guys as sex partners before. I did experience
a few when I was in my late twenties. They all proved to be temperamental,
somewhat selfish, and basically insecure. There was Ralph, 19, whom I took
up with when I was 28.  OK. So a 9-year difference is not that much,
really. And at 19, you are already an adult. But Ralph? He would whine over
almost everything. Even when he is under me and I am pounding away into his
tight firm ass, he'd whine about the pillow, about the bed springs, about
how much sweat I was dripping on top of him. I mean, really. With a hot
cock in your ass, are these thoughts the ones that spring to mind? Maybe
this was just Ralph, and I am probably exaggerating, but...

However, now that I am turning fifty, it's those young ones that attract my
attention most. I love their cockiness, their youth, their open vitality.

There is this kid, around 20 years old, a college kid, who serves at the
club restaurant where I am a member. The clientele are basically my age, in
all sorts of businesses, boring as hell, with protruding bellies and dirty
jokes. I have made a few acquaintances, but I tend to keep to myself when I
go there for exercise and later a latte in the club cafeteria. My focus is
always on those kids, the cleaners, the waiters, the assistants on the
courts or in the exercising facilities. But Ronald is the one that has
caught my attention the most.

First, Ronald has this kind of intellectual look that I love. He wears
eyeglasses; his features are masculine, cheekbones, lips, eyebrows. He has
a normal walk, a bit jaunty but not in an aggressive or a look-at-me, showy
way. He is slim and tall and carries himself beautifully. He is warm and
always has a smile on his face. I love it when he serves me my latte. Very
cordial, very young, exuding health and vigor that make my heart pound and
my balls tingle.

I am sitting at one of the tables in the cafeteria, sipping my coffee, and
watching Ronald, as usual. I am also lost in all kinds of thoughts, not all
of which are about sex, except for the ones which are centered on Ronald
and his movements between tables.  He catches me staring at him a couple of
times and responds with a warm smile, so natural, so cute. I have no idea
whether he has any inkling of my desire for him. I don't think he cares a
lot, only that I am a member of the club and a customer who he must keep
happy if he is to keep his job. But there is a bit more to it than that.
Something inside me tells me that the kid likes me. Call it intuition. Call
it wishful thinking. Whatever.

"Another latte, sir?" Ronald comes up to me with his warm smile, carrying
an empty tray. He is dressed in the club uniform for workers: a white polo
shirt, open at the neck, a pair of jeans-type slacks in dark blue, covered
with a white waist-apron, and a pair of black sneakers.

"Well, thank you, Ronald. Yes, please," I return the smile. I do not really
want another latte, but how could I say no? The kid seems to be very
willing to please.

Ronald collects my empty cup and saunters to the bar corner. A few minutes
later, he is back with the latte, placing it on the table in front of
me. All the while I am considering how I can get him more interested in
me. What kind of conversation should I start with him? There seems to be
nothing in common between us. I am a senior editor in the local newspaper,
The Globe, and he is a college kid. I am 50; he is 20!  "Thanks, Ronald."

"My pleasure, sir."

Before Ronald walks away, I clear my throat. "So you go to college here,
Ronald?" I start what I hope would evolve into something interesting
instead of a clipped, short-answered dialog.

"Yes, sir," Ronald rests the tray against his hip.

"What are you majoring in?" I ask, trying my best to sound genuinely
interested, not just making passing conversation. I want the kid to become
involved.

"English, sir." His expression turns a bit more serious, the smile
disappearing, replaced by an anxious look.

"You don't seem to be too happy about that," I comment.

Ronald shuffles from one foot to another. "Well, sir, it's like this." He
takes a deep breath, and I nod my head encouragingly. "I love my major,"
Ronald continues, "but there doesn't seem to be too many work opportunities
for it. I am worried that I would end up being just a teacher or
something."

"Nothing wrong with teaching," I smile at him, although I know that
teaching is not a career that most young people aim for. "But, my boy," I
go on and I notice Ronald's eyebrows raised, "a lot of companies value
English majors and some even require that they hire them even if the
business is not teaching."

"I don't follow, sir."

"Companies such as banks and insurance, for example," I explain, "hire
English majors to draft and check on contracts, policies, general memos,
company procedures, and countless other things that require perfect
English. Take my business: we would definitely hire an English graduate at
the newspaper to make sure there are no language errors."

The look on Ronald's face changes from sad and apologetic to hopeful and
interested. Ah, the innocence of youth! I suggest that he drop by the
newspaper and apply for an editing job. Inwardly, I know that I will pull
strings to get him some kind of employment. I know that this is an
underhanded way of getting into his pants. But, what the heck! The kid is
hot as hell and I do want to get into his pants.

Ronald does get a part-time job at the paper as a junior editor, and he is
seconded to me. I am thrilled.

"It's good to see you without the apron, Ronald," I beam as I welcome him
into my office, my eyes roving over his front body, glorifying the young
slim shape, the flat stomach, the bulge in his jeans.

"Thank you, sir," he beams back, full of energy and excitement.

"Since we will be working together, you can drop the 'sir' part. Go with
just Sam. OK?"

"OK, er... Sam," Ronald's smile stretches wider making him so much cuter,
and my heart skips a beat.

It takes me more than four weeks to bring up enough courage to make a pass
at Ronald. Every day, I am tormented by (a) lusting over a young kid and
(b) thinking of a way to hit on this young kid. I know, I know. This is
sick. It sounds so predatory. But Ronald is an adult, a very young one, but
an adult nevertheless. And it's not like I am forcing him into anything.

"Looking nice today, Ronald," I greet him as he walks into my office with
an editorial draft that he is supposed to go over.

The look on Ronald's face is puzzled. For a moment, he just stands there,
just inside the door, and then he looks down at his own body and back up to
me.

"Thanks, Sam, but this is how I have looked since I started here."

I make it a point of staring at his crotch for a couple of seconds, and
then shifting up to meet his eyes.

"Very nice," I repeat, my voice turning a bit husky, not leaving much doubt
as to what I meant. Now is the time where Ronald throws the papers in his
hand onto my desk and walks out screaming sexual harassment, or something
to that effect. But this doesn't happen.

Ronald approaches the desk slowly, not breaking eye contact with me, places
the papers on the desk neatly, and very pointedly moves his eyes down to my
crotch, keeps them there, and whispers, "You too, Sam. You look nice, too."

I feel that I can't breathe. I have just hit on the kid and he has
responded surprisingly positively. He knows exactly what I have alluded to
and he is smart enough to return my greeting without actually committing
himself to anything. Not yet, anyway.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Ronald looks up from my crotch back to
my eyes, his hip leaning at my desk, his hand resting on the top of the
desk where he has left the edited sheets. He looks so deliciously
attractive, a little bit cocky as well, that I can't help myself from
reaching out and placing my hand on top of his. He leans towards me, his
eyes closed, and I kiss him. Lightly. On the lips. And it is like thousands
of volts hitting my insides. I pull back and try to control my breathing
and my shaking.

"Wow," Ronald exclaims softly as he opens his eyes, biting on his lower
lip, letting out a long withheld breath, and grabbing my hand, squeezing.

Hit!  I am going to get laid.

But how has this happened? Why is a young, attractive kid like Ronald
attracted to a much older me?  The more I study him, the more impossible
the situation becomes. Ronald is really a hunk of a guy, now that I am
looking at him from a different perspective. Right here. Right in front of
me. His bulge is decidedly larger than it normally is. Could it be that
this kid has just developed an erection from the touch of my lips on his?
Or the squeeze of my hand?  Unabashedly, I move my hand from his directly
onto his crotch. Instinctively, Ronald arches back, pushing his hips
forward. And, yes, there is definitely an erection inside those jeans, and
a big one from my first groping. I hear a deep moan emitting from Ronald's
beautiful lips. He is breathing faster as I slowly rub sideways along the
hard erection, feeling the throbbing inside the fabric.

"Sam, oh, Sam, yes," Ronald whispers, grinding on the palm of my hand.
"Sam, this feels good, oh, God, yes."

I am hard also. Ronald looks down with half-open eyes to watch me use my
other hand to rub my own erection. It feels like we are frozen in this
position forever: this hunk of a kid grinding his hardness against the palm
of my hand and me groping and fondling my own cock inside my pants.

Ronald, a few inches taller than I am, bends down and kisses me, not
lightly like the first kiss, but with his tongue forcing my lips to open. I
receive him hungrily, sucking on his wet tongue, actually slurping on it,
my mind in total ecstasy but also mixed with confusion. This is a kid I am
making out with. A kid!  My mind is reeling between the sensation of
groping this young stud and the 30-year difference in age.

We break and take deep breaths. I remove both hands from the two erections.
I watch Ronald undo his jeans as he leans back on the edge of my desk, and
he fishes out his cock. I inhale at the sight of the youngster's tool: a
full 8 inches (20 cm), cut, beautifully mushroomed, and throbbing with
desire, majestically erected upwards, fuzzy balls hanging low.

I sit on my desk chair and roll in towards him, attracted by the magnetism
of his thick, young cock.  I take his rod between my lips, tentatively,
looking up at his beautiful face. His dick feels impossibly big, stretching
my lips, so full of life and energy, so lustful. Ronald thrusts into my
mouth and my pursing lips slide further under the ridge of the round
knob. A couple of inches and I start to feel the gagging.

Closing my eyes, I breathe through my nose, forcefully trying to drive the
gagging away, desperate to take him down all the way to the base. The knob
feels like a hot rod against my throat, thick and insistent. I want to take
in the whole length, and to even continue swallowing the silken pubes,
further onto the fuzzy balls, to have the whole of him inside my mouth, to
eat him, totally.

Ronald holds my head with both hands and thrusts. My breathing through my
nose becomes more difficult as it fills with snot. I am able to control the
gagging, but there are probably three of four more inches to go before I
can reach the thick patch of pubic hair encircling the base of the kid's
cock.

Goaded by his thrusting, I keep going down onto the shaft. My jaws start to
ache, I am out of breath, but I keep going. No way would I quit on this
gorgeous tool. It feels as if my jaws are dislodged to be able to take all
the thickness of his cock shaft. As soon as I reach the base I press my
lips hard around it, my tongue flicking up and down the shaft. I can feel
my spit and snot dribbling into his pubes. Still holding my head, Ronald
intensifies his face-fuck. My God! Every time he pulls out-and I quickly
take a deep breath-I feel emptiness, soon to be filled with the engorged
cock shaft, the head sliding into my throat, filling me with his youth.

It doesn't take much for Ronald to shoot his load down my throat. I swallow
hungrily, grabbing at the bobbing ball sacks. Each spurt makes his rod
thicken and pulsate. I can't taste his hot juice, but I can feel the
squirts hitting the back of my throat and sliding down to my stomach. I
swallow as hard and as fast as I can, but I still feel some cum seeping out
of my mouth. Ronald's fingers dig into the back of my ears as he shoots,
never letting go of my head, controlling the face-fucking to his tempo and
force. All of this is turning me on even more. To feel this kid taking full
control of using my face to his pleasure makes want to shoot gallons into
my under shorts. I almost do. But I force myself to sort of keep it in
although I could feel some wetness inside my pants.

Ronald withdraws from my pursing lips. Miraculously, his young dick is
still vertically erect, the slit still emitting a few drops of white
cream. I reach for those precious drops with my tongue, now being able to
really taste Ronald's juice. Salty. Thick and creamy. Kind of
viscous-y. Hot as fuck! His face-fucking has made me extremely
horny. Face-fucking. Wow! How then would the ass-fucking be like?  Ass
fucking? ASS fucking? Am I really thinking about this young monster of a
cock plowing into my ass?  My ass? I am usually more of a top and I love to
fuck a hot, tight ass. But as this moment, gazing at the young rod, all I
want is for it to enter me, to fill me, to make me young again, to shoot
its youth into me.

With a start and a pounding heart, I realize that the door to my office is
not locked. Shit! I just blew a guy with the possibility of anyone barging
in. Fuck me! What a risk!  "Ron," I whisper, my voice shaking. "Baby, let
me lock the door."

Ronald smiles mischievously, slowly stroking his wet dick.  "You mean you
want more of this, Sam?" he asks as he points his hard cock at me,
inviting, lustful. Oh, yes, and yes. Fuck, YES!  I walk to the door and
lock it, and return as I undo my pants. By the time I get to Ronald, my
pants are already around my ankles, my dick out of the fly of my under
shorts. He turns me around, pressing himself on me. I feel the hardness and
wetness on my hairy, flabby ass cheeks as he grinds on me. I start to brace
myself for a fuck. By a hot, young stud. By a hung stud! Slowly, Ronald
slides down my undershorts exposing my ass. His cock throbs on my backside.

Suddenly, I freeze. I realize with a shock that I don't have protection;
neither do I have any lubricating gel. Oh, man. Why would I keep condoms
and gel in my office? Why would anyone keep fucking condoms and gel in
their office? Ronald's hard cock is now inside my crack, rubbing in and out
between my thighs. I press hard on him. He moans, wrapping his hands around
my waist, shaking at his heavy breathing on my neck, his lips on my skin.

I turn my head sideways. Ronald is beautiful. And Ronald wants to
fuck. Without any further consideration, I irresponsibly throw caution out
of the window and bend over. The cock head is prodding my hole. The wetness
from my spit and his first load makes him slide easily inside my crack, but
through the fuck hole? That's another kettle of fish. I am tight, not used
to getting fucked, let alone by a monster cock. His thrust into me is hard
and insistent. The kid wants in. I am grateful that I have showered this
morning although I habitually take my shower in the evening. I haven't gone
to the bathroom since. Ronald can fuck me without getting grossed out by my
wanting to dump anything out of my ass. But the trick is penetration.

The second I relax my fuck hole, however, Ronald enters me. I automatically
squeeze my rim muscle around the invading cock and I stifle a scream. The
pain is excruciating. But with his hands around my waist, he pulls me onto
him and maintains the force of his thrust, the cock shaft stretching my
ass. One strong push and Ronald is deep inside me. I can feel the cock head
pressing against my insides. My knees grow weak. I can hear my own
moans. With his cock buried to the hilt, Ronald bends over me and starts to
nibble my ear, whispering stuff that I can barely hear. The pain makes me
weak. I feel as if I were split in two. I could be bleeding. He could be
tearing my ass in half. It certainly feels like it. I want him out. I don't
think I can take the fucking that I know is soon to start.

"Oh, Sam," he moans. My heart pounds loudly, my knees shake uncontrollably,
my ass burns painfully.

"So deliciously tight, Sam. Oh, my God, I wanted to fuck you like this the
first minute I laid my eyes on you. I jacked off in the shower this morning
visualizing my dick in your ass. God, Christ, my dick is inside you,
Sam. Oh, Fuck, I am actually inside you baby," and on and on.

Ronald holds still inside me, waiting for my fuck tunnel to accommodate his
thick tool. I am shivering all over, trying to picture myself, a mature
50-year-old geezer, bent over my own desk, with a hot kid grinding on my
ass, his cock buried deep inside me. I grind back on him, fighting back the
burning pain.

 Suddenly, I decide that I want to see him as he fucks me. I want to look
at his young face. I want to run my hands over his smooth chest. I want to
feel the muscles of his abdomen tighten and relax as he fucks. I want to
look down and watch his thick pubes and his beautiful cock as it slides in
and out of me.

"What?" Ronald asks, a little bewildered when his cock slides out of my ass
and I turn around. "Am I hurting you, Sam? What is it?" He has this boyish,
concerned look on his face that makes me want to cry.

I open my legs and wrap them around his waist, pulling him back onto me. "I
want to watch you, Ronnie, as you fuck me."

His concern turns to amusement. He fists his dick and re-inserts it into my
waiting, eager and burning hole. The feeling of getting fucked has more or
less been pleasurable for me although I have invariably done the fucking
myself, but this was way beyond pleasure. This was ecstasy. The boy sliding
into me is beautiful beyond description. My hands roam all over his chest
and I can feel the beginnings of sweat. I raise myself up from the desk and
reach for his nipples with my mouth. I move from one to the other, licking,
sucking, nibbling, biting. He moans and thrusts deep, his manhood rubbing
in and out of me, a few inches at a time. I press my feet on his butt
cheeks, making him go deeper. I reach out both hands and wrap them around
his neck, bringing his face down to mine.

We kiss. He fucks. I moan. I feel dizzy under him.

"Yea, Ronnie, baby, fuck my ass," I groan into his mouth. I find that this
kind of talk makes him more eager, his thrusts harder, faster, deeper. I
continue: "Stretch my ass, baby. Go deeper. Oh, I love your cock. You fill
me so much. Ronnie, yes, Ronnie. Breed me, my boy. Fill me with your hot
juice." I sound like a bitch. I sound like a fucking bitch in heat!
Me... begging for a kid's cock. And begging I do, over and over, with every
thrust.

Ronald shoots inside me. His cock flexes with every squirt and I squeeze
hard on the base of his shaft with my rim muscle, milking him. He cums and
cums. His mouth is planted on mine and he moans into my throat. He pulls
his dick out of my hole, rubs the cum seeping out of me back into my crack,
and enters me again. His cum lubricates me further. He fucks me more, and I
realize that he is going for a second load.

And that is exactly what Ronald does. This time, I start to enjoy the
pleasure of being fucked. The burning has lessened, and the nerves in my
behind are starting to send amazing sensations to my brain. Finally, he
pulls out after dumping his load and drops himself on my desk chair with a
sigh. I raise myself off the desk and stand in front of him. He smiles and
I melt. My cock has gone limp with the hard fucking and the pain but my
nuts are full. I need release.

Ronald stands, pulls his jeans up, shoving his cock, semi erect, inside.

"Sam, you are amazing. Can we do this again?"

I nod my head vigorously.

"When?"

"My place, this evening after work," I manage to say, my voice shaking. I
still can't stand on my feet; my knees are too weak to support my trembling
bosy.

Ronald looks down at my limp dick hanging out of the fly of my
undershorts. "We need to do something about that dick, Sam. Don't you
think?"

With that, Ronald leaves. I realize that I must look so stupid, so weird,
with my mouth half open, my eyes half shut, my limp cock hanging out of my
undershorts, my pants around my ankles, and my ass seeping man cum down my
hairy thighs. And... the door is now unlocked, with me staring at it,
already missing Ronald!  Leaning back in my office chair, my hands behind
my head, my eyes closed, dressed and trying to recuperate the fuck session,
I visualize Ronald topping me. Am I crazy? I still can't understand how
this has happened. The burning of my ass tells me that it has happened. The
soreness of my jaws tells me it has happened. The taste of man cum in my
mouth is a definite proof that it has happened. But I still feel as if it
has been an erotic dream, or a day fantasy.

And what about tonight? Ronald is coming over. My heart races. I should
drop by the drugstore and get some condoms. It has been so reckless of me
to allow for Ronald to fuck me bareback and dump his load inside me. I have
no idea where this kid's dick has been, what hole it has plundered, what
disease it could have squirted into me. I am usually very careful about my
health and my sexual relationships. Always have been. Until this
morning. What has gotten into me is not explainable, not justifiable,
actually fucking stupid for a man of my age. But Ronald's seed is already
inside me. No need for condoms, then. If I were to catch something, I have
already caught it, haven't I? Ronald's sperm is inside my blood. Talk about
being old and wise.

So, no condoms. I get to my place without condoms, but with some
pain-dulling gel since I know that Ronald will be fucking me and my ass is
sore. I get into the shower, making sure that my hole is rubbed clean. I
want to be as sweet as a lily for him. We are going to have comfortable
sex, not the hasty, urgent fuck that has occurred in the office
earlier. Why do I care so much? Well, for one thing, this is my first time
with a young hunk like Ronald. And it has been totally unexpected: getting
fucked on my office desk, legs up, ass exposed and ploughed by young dick.

Ronald is here. I am in a pair of jeans cutoffs, sans underwear, and an
open neck polo shirt, my chest hair showing. Opening the door, my jaw
drops. Ronald is framed in all his glorious beauty at my doorstep, holding
a bouquet of red roses. What the fuck! Roses? Fucking red roses. He has a
sort of stupid smile on his face, expectant for my reaction. All I can find
to say is: "Roses, Ron?"

His smile disappears, replaced by a look of consternation. "You don't like
roses, Sam?" The boy is on the verge of tears and my heart goes out to him.

I glance at the bouquet, quickly counting thirteen roses. "I love roses,
Ron. But there are thirteen of them."

Ronald looks down at the bouquet, and then back up at me. "The thirteenth
rose is for good luck."

"And the other twelve?" I try to sound flippant.

His look is intense and serious now. "These are twelve ways to say that I
love you, Sam."

I almost faint. I pull him inside, kicking the door closed behind him, and
hug him tightly, our lips meeting, already moaning into each other's
mouth. But I quickly break away. Love? The kid loves me?  No way. That's
not how it is supposed to be. One fuck and he loves me? I can't raise his
expectations too high. I am flattered, of course, but love for me is not an
option. It just doesn't make any sense.

"Ronnie, you don't really love me," I say with a shaking voice, my heart
pounding up to my throat.

"I do, Sam, oh God, I do love you." He places the bouquet down on the
entrée table and pulls me back to him, bending his slim figure down onto
me, and we kiss. He presses his full young, hot body on mine, his hands
caressing my hair, our tongues probing, our lips sucking, his bulge
pressing on my belly.

I have mixed emotions. Ronald can't be in love with me. Call it
infatuation. Call it youth vigor. Call it lust.

Call it whatever you like. But it is not love. I have never been in love,
myself. I've been in and out of relationships, some intense, some not. This
is different, I have to confess. But love? I don't think so.

 Ronald's kissing is passionate. He seems insatiable. I can feel his
strength as he holds me in his arms. I am the older man here. I am supposed
to be the one to call the shots. But for the first time in my life, I feel
that my "lover" is in total control. The kid is a kid, for Chrissakes, but
he makes me feel so vulnerable that I totally give in to him, forgetting my
age, my maturity, my supposed wisdom, all of this being replaced by young
passion. I am 20 years old-I feel like I am 20 years old-held tightly by my
towering lover. I just melt in his arms like a teenage girl.

"Let me get a vase or something for the roses," I reluctantly break away
from Ronald. Should I let this kid get so much into me? How will this
affect our relationship at the office? No one knows that I am gay. I have
been able to keep my sexual preferences to myself. I have always been
careful not to "shit in my own backyard," so to speak. But Ronald is
irresistible. I am confused. Can I say that I love this kid back? I don't
know. I could, though. Why not? He says he's in love with me. And why not?
But I just don't know.

With shaking hands, I find a glass vase and fill it with water, placing the
roses in it. They look lovely.

Ronald walks over and stands behind me as I arrange the roses, counting
them again. I feel his erection pressed on my lower back, his hands around
my waist, his lips on the side of my neck. Images of couples in movies jump
into my head, where the man brings flowers to his lady friend, and holds
and caresses her as she arranges them in a vase. But I'm not a lady friend!
I love the feeling of his body grinding on me, his lips on my skin, but I
don't like the idea of taking the role of the "woman" in this relationship.

I turn around and he presses on me again, his erection is now pressing on
mine as he bends his knees a little. As he moves in to kiss me, I place my
hands on his chest. I feel the young muscles ripple through his shirt, the
nipples poking through the soft fabric.

"Ron," I tell him, looking straight into his beautiful eyes, noticing the
long eyelashes. "I'm not your girl."

What the hell am I saying? The look of hurt on his face as I say this
breaks my heart. I kiss him lightly on the corner of his mouth. "We can
make love," I continue. "And you are one hot fucker. But I am not a
girl. You are fucking a guy, a much older man, by the way."

"I know, Sam," he whispers, still moving in for the kiss. "And I love you
as a man, as a much older man.

You are my man and I want to fuck you... no, no, I want to make love to
you. I want to go deep inside you, to feel our bodies merge. I want to fill
you with my love. In time, you will love me too, Sam. I will make you love
me, old man." Ronald takes a deep breath, his hands on my hips. "I never
wanted a girl, Sam. I want you."

"Let's make love, then," I say.

We undress in the living room between hugs and kisses and grindings. I am
dissolved by the beauty of his young body, by his large man cock, by the
muscles, by the vigor, by youth. I respond with passion also. I do want
this kid inside me regardless of my sore ass. I want his huge cock to pound
into me, forever, to bring me back my youth.

Ronald is on top of me. I give in. He wants to be in control and I am
starting to love it. He is young but manly and he treats me with such love
that I can't let him not have his way. His body plasters onto mine, our
nakedness melting into each other. I can feel his huge cock pressing on my
erection, rubbing up and down. My own dick is not to laugh at, but it is
nowhere near the size or the beauty of Ronald's.

He spreads my legs using his knees, his cock sliding down into my crack,
our mouths glued. I reach for the gel tube blindly and feel the soreness in
my ass. His cock head is already there, pressing. I place one hand on his
smooth chest and push him a few centimeters up, handing him the gel. He
kneels and squirts some on his throbbing cock. The mushroom head is
frightfully big and my heart races in anticipation of the pain. He applies
some more gel on my ass with his finger, and then he enters. Oh my God! I'm
split in half again. He is so fucking huge. As he thrusts in, the knob
penetrating, he gets back on top of me, his body covering mine. I grunt and
moan. Rotating his hips, he manages to get the full head inside my rim
muscle, going through my butt cheeks.

"Hurts?" He asks me as he licks my lower lip.

Damn fuck it hurts, I think. But I grab his butt cheeks with my hands and
draw him further into me. The shaft slides in and I almost die. The pain is
unbearable. The fucking gel is doing nothing to lessen the pain. But I
glorify in it. I want it. I crave for all the pain that my young fucker is
causing me. The hugeness of his rod, its hardness, its length, all of it
drives me mad. I squeeze on the invading shaft with my burning rim
muscle. Ronald moans and drives full blast, his balls slapping my butt
cheeks. My fingers dig into his muscled, firm butt. He is totally buried
inside me. He starts moving slowly, pulling the whole shaft out until just
the ridge of his cock head is inside me, and then thrusts in, sliding,
sliding, pushing my insides deeper, deeper, until I can feel my intestines
reaching up to my throat. He fills me.

His cock reaches every turn, every corner, every small cavity of my fuck
hole and further pushing at my insides. His weight bears down on my body,
plastering me, controlling me. I can barely move under him.

Ronald's tempo increases. My ass burns something fierce; his lower abdomen
rubs on my dick, keeping me erect. His lips caress my mouth, my face, my
eyes. As he thrusts into me, going faster now, he slips his mouth onto my
neck, his wet lips pressed onto my sensitive skin. He forces my hands off
his butt and pins them stretched up above my head. My whole body shivers. I
become both numb and full with sensations at the same time. The soreness of
my ass slowly turns to wonderful lust. I push back onto him, trying to get
more of this kid's cock into me.

Ronald's fucking technique is amazing, turning every centimeter of my body
into fully-charged nerves, sending electricity throughout my nervous
system, my muscles into jelly. He keeps whispering and moaning: how much he
loves me, how much he adores me, how horny I make him, how delicious is my
skin, how perfect is my fuck hole for his dick. Between each endearing
whisper, he emits sounds: ffshshsh as he pulls out, uhhhh as thrusts back
in, ffshshsh... Uhhhh...

I can't estimate the time between his penetration and the feeling of cum
buildup in my balls. All I know is that with a whimpering scream, my legs
spread wide, my arms pinned forcefully over my head, I shoot a huge load
onto my belly and chest as his young body rubs up and down my balls and
cock shaft. I squirt and squirt. Ronald feels my cum under him and thrusts
as deep as he could get and stays in there, just grinding his crotch on my
butt, waiting for me to finish. He looks down between our bodies and
watches my ejaculation.

"Yea, Sam, oh man, yes, shoot your hot cream. Ahhhh, it feels hot and
fucking sticky, Sam. That's a lot of jizz, old man."

And I shoot more and more, not even touching myself. He releases my arms
and I move both of my hands onto his face cheeks and bring his mouth to
mine, pressing my lips against his, my dick pulsating with every squirt of
my interminable ejaculation.

Finally, I settle, breathing heavily. Ronald's cock is throbbing inside
me. Still kissing me, he resumes his fucking. His thrusts become harder,
tougher, more intense. There is no more the gentle sliding in and
out. There is more of pounding, more like revenge, more like how dare I
shoot my load before he does, more like punishment. And my reaction?
Extreme bliss. His endearments are replaced by his ffshshsh...ahhhh...,
more pronounced, louder, more urgent, more insistent.

With a loud grunt, Ronald arches his back, his fingers digging deep into my
raised thighs, and freezes, his cock buried all the way to the hilt inside
me. I feel the shaft base thicken.

"I cum, Sam," he wheezes, his eyes shut. "Sam, Sam, I'm uhhhhh
cumming. Fshshsh uhhhh cumming."

I feel warm semen filling me. He is shooting inside me. I can actually feel
the bursts of his young cream hitting my insides with force. His eyes are
squeezed shut, his mouth wide open, his neck muscles taught, his smooth
chest glistening with sweat, the abs contracting deliciously with every
squirt coming out of his balls. I squeeze my sore ass muscle around the
base of his thick cock shaft as it pulses with every stream of cum that
shoots out of it into me.

Finally, he collapses on top of me with a heave, taking in long breaths,
licking my neck, the cheeks of my face, my lips, my eyes. He is still
inside me, flexing. The sensations shooting up from my ass and insides make
me shiver all over under him. I have never been fucked this way before, and
I doubt that I will ever be fucked this way, ever.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Ronald starts to move in and out of my ass,
fucking, again! Oh, my God! My ass is on fire, but the slickness from his
semen and the stretching I have already endured make the second fucking
more intense than the first, if that is ever possible. Like a never-tiring,
never-winding down machine, this young stud fucks me. Again. Deep and
fast. I'm totally pinned under him. The only movement I can make is trying
to constrict my rim muscle around his moving cock, milking him. When he
cums, it's another full load. I don't believe that my fuck cavity can take
all this man semen. His sperm must be swimming up my bowels into my stomach
up to my throat.

The sound of his cock sliding out of me is a sweet plop. He rolls off and
lies next to me, his beautiful flat stomach and belly, rising and falling,
his smooth skin covered with sweat, his cock and crotch glistening with his
cum. I am unable to move. All my muscles are screaming from the intensity
of this double fuck. No words can describe the sensations of my fuck hole.

"Man, Ron, what a fuck machine," I am barely able to whisper to him. He
turns sideways facing me and runs his hand on my hairy chest.

"You're amazingly incredible, Sam," he whispers back. "I never thought it
would be like this."

"What would be like this? Fucking me?"

"No, Sam," he snickers. "Fucking ass."

"You mean to tell me," I gaze into his eyes, incredulous, "you mean to say
that I am your first fuck?"

Ronald nods his head, a sort of a stupid smile on his cute face.

"No way!" I exclaim. "No fucking way, Ron." He nods some more, the same
smile plastered on his sweet, young face.

"No," I continue. "Ron, this can't be your first fuck. I mean, really, you
fucked me like a pro, man."

Ronald laughs. Oh, he is so cute. "Sam, you are my first lover."

"Not even pussy?"

"Not even."

"Incredible. The way you fucked. The way you penetrated that huge fuck tool
of yours into my tight ass. It takes technique, Ron. I just can't believe
it."

"Sam," he reaches for my lips with his long, slender fingers. "It takes
love, not technique. You are my lover, and I was making love to you. I
wasn't fucking. I was making love, baby."

I am speechless. I want this boy. I want him for me forever. And if this
means that I am falling in love with him, after a couple of fucks, so be
it. Ronald loves me and I ... I ... ok, yes, fine, I love Ronald!  I bend
over him and start licking down his chest. I can taste his salty sweat and
my salty cum. I nibble on his nipples, moving from one to the other, and
then down his flat stomach, his belly, to the engorged, glistening knob of
his cock. I take him between my lips, reveling over the tastes. He is still
semi-erect and pulsating. I suck hungrily. He bucks into my mouth, his
hands pressing on the back of my head. I feel his cock lengthening,
thickening in my mouth. I move to his fuzzy balls, licking them, feeling
them bob up and down under my lips. I fist his dick. Ronald is hard. I
stroke him slowly, the shaft slick with spit and sweat and cum. Down his
inner thighs. Hairy. Muscled. Young. Licking and slurping I go lower to his
legs, also hairy, also muscled, and oh-so-young. His feet. I suck on every
toe, still stroking him.

Slowly I retrace the route up to my goal: his beautiful rod. I resume my
sucking. So silky, so hard.

Throbbing. He bucks faster. My eyes are glued to his smooth belly and
stomach, watching the muscles constrict. His juice hits my throat and I
swallow. His moans are filled with intense passion.

"I love you, Ronald," I breathe as I let go of his cock and slide up to
him, not believing I am actually saying this.

"Oh, Sam, Sam, Sam. I love you."

It doesn't take Ronald long to ride me again, doggy, sideways, on my back,
on my belly, his cock veins full of young blood, rock hard. I sit on him,
facing him, and watch his dick disappear up, up, up, as my balls rest in
his young pubes. He holds my butt cheeks and lifts me, and then he fucks
me. He breeds me. And again, he fucks me and breeds me. I can't believe
that these young balls have so much juice in them. I just lie under him,
against him, on top of him, trying to keep up with his youthful vigor,
knowing that I will be walking funny for quite some time. His cock doesn't
seem to tire or to get soft.

And who am I to complain? My wisdom and maturity? To hell with that.

Give me youth. Youth in love. Anytime. Any day. Ronald has made me young.
Unbelievable but true.

When he leaves, his smell covers my body, filling my nostrils, and I inhale
him deep. I can hardly wait for him to return, to fuck me. I am desperately
in love.