Date: Fri, 14 Jan 2011 16:31:37 -0500 From: Jeff Stewart <jeffstewart821@gmail.com> Subject: Peyton Hillis on My Birthday This story is fiction and is not intended to imply anything about the true sexuality of the celebrities mentioned or any personal knowledge about their private lives. Team names, certain player information, and other copyrights and trademarks are the exclusive property of the National Football League, National Football League Players Association, and any other owners. The following story is meant purely for non-profit entertainment, and no copyright infringement is intended. People are going to be fucking in this story, so you must be over the age of 18 to read this story, unless otherwise specified by the laws of your locality. This story contains descriptions of sex between men, without use of a condom. This story takes place in porn world. In the real world, always use a condom. Thanks for reading. Feedback and story ideas are always welcome. Peyton Hillis on My Birthday Fucking Cleveland. Fucking Cleveland. Fucking dull, drab, ice cold, howling wing, fucking Cleveland. On my birthday. Fuck. It all made fucking sense back in the office on Monday: "We're finally closing the deal," they said. "You'll be back on Thursday, tops," they told me. "This is a good chance to prove myself to the partner," I told myself. "This is a huge deal for our practice," I told myself. "You haven't gotten to travel for work yet," I rationalized. So they sent me from New York to Cleveland--which hadn't yet become "Fucking Cleveland"--to be the guy on the ground with our client's Board when we closed. Blah, blah, blah. We finally get to Wednesday, when the fuckers in Singapore say they have a snag. Some shit about problems liquidating assets. Then Cleveland freaks out because some shit they're trying to do in New York is supposed to be simultaneous to that shit in Singapore. It's all way over my pay grade. Then when the shit hit the fan again on Thurdsay, and the fuckers in Singapore said "okay, we'll be ready to go at 1:00 p.m. on Sunday," I got to stay here. Because, of course, they meant Singapore time. It will be 9:00 am on Sunday when it's nine p.m. on Saturday. So I'm here tonight. Wiating. On my birthday. In Cleveland. Fucking Cleveland. On my birthday. Fuck. Sorry, family. Sorry, friends. Sorry, self. No party this year. Cancel our plans. Marriott in Cleveland for me. In a snowstorm. So, clearly, I'm more than a little pissed off. But the afternoon winds down. And after I call my friends and family with the bad news, I go back to my hotel. I grab a beer out of the minibar, and start to take off my suit. I hate wearing that monkey suit all day. Makes me feel old. I hang everything up, give my nuts a scratch through my briefs, and plop down on the edge of the bed. "Porn?" I think to myself, as I pick up the TV remote. I cycle through 15 screens of pay-per-view bullshit to finally get to the 'Alternative' section, which turns out to be nothing more than 5 crappy looking bisexual videos. "Thanks, Marriott. Fuckers." I order some room service and take a shower. Looking at myself in the mirror, I realize I need to get back in my old workout routine. It was so easy to work out every day in school. Now that I'm working it's a huge pain in the ass. I'm still really well-built and, hell, in better shape than most everyone at work, but I can see where lines between muscles that were clear are starting to blur. Fuck, I'm 28. It's inevitable that this will change. I'm a working stiff, not a celebrity. If I can keep up three days a week, I'll be fine. Poking my pecs and running my hand through my chest hair as part of my examination, I graze my own nipple, and my cock jumps. I get in the shower, feel the warm water rush over me, and start to relax. I realize, with the shit that's gone on this week, I haven't beat it in a week. Suddenly remembering how horned I am, I reach up to twist at my nipple, and start stroking my hardening cock. It gets up to its full thick seven inches in an instant, and I work my soapy hand up and down the whole length while the other tugs gently on my balls, loosening them up. I start to pound at it quickly, like cumming is something I need to just get out of the way. But then I realize I'm here all night. And I don't have to be in the office until 11:00. And I'm all alone. In Fucking Cleveland. Fuck it. I'm going out. A few hours later, I'm not sure going out was such a good idea. A few inches of snow have already accumulated. The wind feels like it's blowing at the speed of fucking sound, and it can't be more than 20 degrees. All I have with me is my overcoat. No hat. No gloves. No scarf. I walk out of the hotel in the direction the consierge recommended, and immediately jam my hands into my pockets, shrug my shoulders up to get the collar higher on my neck, lower my head to keep the snow out of my face, and start jogging towards the nearest lights. Those lights, mercifully, belong to a bar. I drag my ass inside and bask in the steamy heat of the place. It's Friday night, and it's pretty crowded. It's a sports bar. Kind of run down. But I like it immediately. The Cavs is playing on on a big screen behind the bar. I order a beer and amuse myself scoping the players for hot asses and big packages. As I order my third beer, the group of three drunk guys by the pool table start whooping loudly. I and the rest of the crowd at the bar look in that direction to figure out what the commotion is. Two tall and athletic guys are high fiving each other and lauging, while a third guy, taller than the two but just as athletic, is crouched down by the edge of the table and shaking his head. Clearly he just lost a bet of some kind. Everyone else turns away, but something about the tallest guy catches my eye. I use taking sips from my newly delivered third beer as cover to stare over at the three and figure out what grabbed my attention. Other than the tall guy's beautiful muscular ass. Then it hits me. I grew up in Kansas City. And that means I've been a Chiefs fan though some bad times, then the Marty/Carl/Derrick Thomas renaissance, the Cunningham interregnum, and then the Vermiel years and the current bad times we're only now emerging from. It also means that I recognize Scott Fujita. I remembered when he first showed up as a rookie linebacker from Cal with a hot ass and a cute face. I'd wanked it a bunch of times imagining the big tall stud fucking my brains out. He'd only gotten hotter over the years, especially when he was with the Saints. But now he had this douchey long hair and was starting to go to seed a little. But his body was still fucking glorious. I sip my beer, and start shaking my leg up and down under the bar, with my eyes glued to the two round cheeks of Fujita's ass as he stalks around the pool table. He's good friends with the other two guys, who I haven't yet placed. The other are the same height. Shorter than Fujita--but he's six five, so that's not unusual. The other two are about my height, maybe an inch or so taller, like 6'1" or something. One's got a baby face. Sexy, but looks young. The other is one of the most muscular men I've ever seen in the flesh. He doesn't look like a ridiculous body builder, but he's REALLY fucking built. My cock likes his muscles. I realize I'm staring, because the one with the baby face keeps looking at me. I down my beer and go hit the head. I've got to distract myself. The last thing I need is to get in some fight with friends of an NFL player or get kicked out. The bathroom reeks. Of course. And it's small. I step up to one of the two urinals on the wall. They're right next to each other. No partition. I fucking hate this set up. I usually have a shy bladder. Mercifully, no one else is in there. I step up to the urinal, whip it out, and enjoy the feeling of my bladder emptying. I'm getting near the end, when the door pounds open. I look over my shoulder, startled by the sound, so see the hugely muscled guy from the pool table shuffling in. He's clearly drunk. He grabs the door frame to steady himself, and gives me a "hey, man" in acknowledgement. My shy bladder activates itself---fucker. He stumbles to the other urinal, pulls out his junk, and collapses his head onto the wall, one thickly muscled arm acting like a pillow. He lets out a soft sigh as his piss starts flowing, and then I feel a splash against my pant leg. "Dude, what the fuck?" I say, as I look down to see he's not completely hitting the urinal. "Sorry, bro. My bad." He mutters without looking up. I see his hand reach down to what's a really very impressive cock, and point the thick stream into the urinal. Soft, his cock is probably only two or three inches long, but it's incredibly thick. The head is a perfectly shaped, slightly flared mushroom, and a thick stream of piss flows steadily out of it. I'm suddenly worried less about shy bladder than I am about hair-trigger hard ons. I step back into my own urinal to hide my thickening cock, and try to finish pissing. But I keep sneaking peeks down at this stud's impressive cock. "Yo, Peyt, you want another shot?" The baby faced one had poked his head into the bathroom to ask his friend and was waiting for a response. "Peyt?" "Just a beer, bro. Enough shots for one night," replies 'Peyt' his head now lifted off the wall as his buddy shuts the door behind him. "Don't want to get messy, right man," he says looking right at me. "No, definitely not," I reply, trying to play it cool and hide my half-hard cock. 'Peyt' goes back to finishing his piss, and---thank you Jesus---my own stream finally finds new life. But, of course, I'm an asshole. I can't help myself. I keep sneaking glances at his junk. He catches me on the third peek. I sneak a quick peek as he's putting it away and has his hand down his underwear, getting things situated. As I look back towards my own junk, I see out of the corner of my eye that his head isn't moving. I look up at his face and am greeted by him staring right at me. His messy brown hair styled up above his sexy face. An inscrutable expression on his lips. His beautiful ice blue eyes looking right at me. I must look ridiculous. My heart is racing. This guy must have 50 pounds on me. He could beat me senseless. While my mind races, his face resovles itself into a smirk. He shakes his head, and turns to walk away. I turn back to my urinal, and exhale. I hear him washing his hands while I finish my piss, and zip up. Just as I zip up, I feel a big, powerful hand slap me on the ass. Hard. I'm stunned. I don't know what it means. I stare at the wall and wait to see what's coming next. All that happens is I hear the door close behind him. I'm alone in the bathroom. Ummm. So what the fuck was that? I take a mental inventory of what I know. (a) Hot guy. Really, really hot guy. (b) I want his cock. (c) He's fucking wasted. (d) He could kill me with his bare hands. (e) He caught me staring at his cock while he was pissing. (f) He didn't say anything. (g) He didn't take the chance of a private bathroom to beat me senseless or shout at me. (h) He slapped me on the ass. So... making the inventory didn't really make anything clearer. I wash my hands and go back to the bar. I need a drink. I keep my head down, and don't look at anyone. I sit back on my stool and order a beer. The baby-faced guy is at the other end of the bar, when Fujita shouts at him over the music. "Peyt says he'll have another shot, Colt." I feel like a dumbass. Of course I recognize these guys. Fujita, Colt McCoy, and Peyton Hillis. Why didn't I think of this sooner? I'm a fan. I know who these guys are. Well, fuck. This is much more interesting now. I order a beer, and revise the inventory. . . (h) Peyton Hillis just slapped me on the ass. After smiling at me. When he caught me staring at his cock. His nice, thick cock. That I want. Fuck it, I'm going to stare. They're still playing pool, and all three occasionally make eye contact with me as they walk around the table playing the game. I think Peyton's fucking with me. A few times, I make eye contact with him, and then he grabs his crotch. He could just be adjusting himself. I, of course, convince myself he's signaling me. "Yeah, right, asshole," I tell myself. This is what I always think. I see a hot guy. I stare at him. He catches me staring, so then he starts looking (trying to figure out who's this fucker staring at me). Then I think everything he does is a signal that he wants to fuck. Right there. Right then. Same shit with Hillis. As if this stud football player---married, I think---has an ounce of interest in some asshole he sees in a bar. I realize this night is getting ridiculous. I need to go back to my hotel room and jerk off. Too much beer, not enough sex, and my usual neurotic bullshit have left me a mess. Once I decide that I'm going back to my room, I stop sweating it. I take my time and enjoy my beer. And I enjoy the view. McCoy's got a gorgeous ass. And he's cute. Looks like he's packing too. Fujita still has it, even though he's older. And Hillis is a muscle god. I'm horny, and happy these three will give me great fodder for my fantasies back in my room. They finish up their game, and I can see the three of them settling up their tab. I look at my watch. It's nearly midnight. I pay my tab, too. I put on my coat, and head to the bathroom to piss again before leaving---fucking broken seal. I finish at the urinal, zip up, and turn around to wash my hands. As I walk to the sink, the door opens. It's Hillis. He's staring right at me, with a determined look in his eye. He steps in and turns toward the door. He turns the deadbolt, tries to pull on the now-locked door, and looks back at me. "Hey" is all he says. His thick southern accent comes through even in that single word. I love it. But I don't know what's happening. "You're sexy," he says. I must look like I crapped my pants, because his face breaks into a big smile, he laughs aloud, and closes the distance between us. Before I know what's going on, he presses me up against the wall of the stall. His stubbly face is pressed up against mine, and his booze soaked tongue is snaking between my lips while one massive hand grabs my face and the other grabs my ass. He's rough. Not in a bad way. He's just really strong. And drunk. I love it. My cock is uncomforably hard in my jeans, but I relax my mouth and give in to his kissing. His thick tongue explores my mouth, and a put my hands on his chest. He's pressed against me, and I spead my hands across his massive pecs. They're hard as rocks, and they ripple under my hands as he kneads my ass with his hands. I move them up to his face, and feel his stubble under my hands. His eyes are closed, and I gently try to push him away to get some breath. His eyes open and I stare into their striking blue. He pulls away from my face. "I wanted to do that earlier, dude," he says, slightly out of breath and smiling. He still has me by the ass with one arm, the other now on the stall, over my shoulder. I'm still in shock. I want this. Bad. But I'm not sure how this is happening. "Want to go back to my hotel room?" I ask. "Fuck, yeah, dude." His grin broadens. "That's what I'm talking about," he says as he cups my face in his hands and leans in and kisses me, his thick tongue back in my mouth. "What about your buddies?" I ask. "They're gone." "Just like that? You ditch your buds, lock the bathroom door, and then throw yourself at me?" "I saw you looking earlier. You want it." His hand wraps around my wrist, and he pulls my hand to him. He puts my hand just below his waist a few inches the side of the crotch of his jeans, and I feel his massively thick hard on pulse when I grab it. His cock is fucking huge. "You should see the look on your face. You look like you could cum right now." He smiles as he puts his hands on my shoulders, pushes me back against the stall, and grinds his tongue back into my mouth and his hard cock against me. He tastes like bourbon and beer. It's delicious. I wrap one arm around his neck, and grind my body against him while my other hand plays with his massive prick. This goes on for a few seconds, before we hear a knock at the door. "Let's get out of here," I say, breathlessly. "Your place," he says firmly. "Follow me." We put ourselves back together, unlock the door and walk out without even looking at who was knocking. We stride through the bar and back out into the snowstorm. Quickly and wordlessly, we walk the short distance back to my hotel. He walks a couple of steps behind me. I love Cleveland. I love the snowstorm. I love the fuck up in Singapore. This is the best birthday ever. I'm all alone. I have the night free. And I have fucking Peyton Hillis walking with me back to my hotel room. I look back at my big stud, and I notice again how drunk he is. He's shuffling a little and tripping over his feet without ever falling. I drop back and throw his arm over my shoulders. It feels heavy, and when he wraps it around my neck for balance, I can feel his huge bicep growing against my neck. Thank God for my coat. My cock is hard as steel and bulging obscenely in my jeans. Peyton has a huge smile on his face, but he doesn't look back. He's concentrating on getting one foot in front of the other. We get back to my room, and he immediately flops down on the king size bed. I stomp my shoes to get the snow off, and take off my coat and the sweater I was wearing. I'm in a white t shirt and jeans when I walk over to the bed. He reaches out a muscular arm, and pulls me onto him. He's still dressed for outside. I take off his hat and gloves and unzip his coat and his hoodie. He sits up to take the coat and hoodie off and reveals that he's just wearing a wife beater underneath. He smiles at the look on my face and pulls me down on top of him. We're both in jeans, and our cocks are grinding together, his huge muscular legs together, as my smaller legs straddle him. His body is warm on mine, and as we make out I run my hands all over his torso. He's a little sweaty, and he smells amazing. I lift up one of his arms, and kiss my way toward the fur underneath. He smells clean, and his pit is damp. He moans as I lick and kiss his pit and he starts playing with one of his nipples through his beater. "Fuck, dude. That feels good, but my cock needs some love." Peyton puts his arm down and pushes me down his body. He scoots me off the bed and posistions himself at the end. "You should get more comfortable," he says as he stands up and pulls his beater off and undoes his jeans. His torso is beautifully muscled, and there's a light smattering of hair across his pecs and down into his jeans. I underess as he slips the jeans off to reveal a pair of gray briefs. He turns away from me as he slides them down, and my mouth waters as the lightly furred muscular ass that he reveals. I'm standing naked at the foot of the bed when he turns around to reveal his huge dick. It's at least nine inches long and extremely thick. It's not fully hard and hangs down from his muscular frame. It's sitting on top of a massive pair of nuts, which Peytson gives a lazy scratch as me moves to sit on the edge of the bed. "Come on, bud," he says with a smile as he seats himself on the edge, his huge legs spread, and his cock bouncing softly with his heartbeat. I drop to my knees in front of him, with my seven inches fully hard. I reach out a hand and grab his fat cock just behind the head. It's thick and firm in my hand, and I can feel the blood rushing into it as I give it a first stroke. I put my other hand on the inside of his massive thigh, fingers spread, running it all over the expansive muscle. I open my mouth and wrap my lips around the big mushroom head of his cock. It's warm and smooth and really big. I swirl my tongue around it, and give the shaft a jerk with the hand that's wrapped around it. I hear Peyton exhale sharply as a close my mouth around him and start to slide more of him into my mouth. "Yeah, suck that dick, dude," he moans as he puts a hand on the back of my head. A lot of cock comes into my mouth quickly as he pushes me down on to him. He's much stronger than me, so there's not really much I can do. I relax my throat and try to take as much as possible. I feel his fat head slide past my tonsils and lodge down my throat. I can't breath, but I don't think he's getting much more into me. His shaft is throbbing as his hand shakes the back of my head. "Yeah, choke on it," he says as he thrusts his hips up to add more force. His bush is tickling my nose as all but an inch or inch and a half of his fat hog is lodged in my throat. I'm bracing one hand on his thigh as I use the other to stroke my hard on. He grabs my hair and pulls me back as he rolls his hips back. "You like that big cock?" he asks, as I catch my breath once he's out. I moan my assent and voluntarily dive back onto him. I set up a rhythm of diving onto his fat hog as far as I can, and then pulling back far enough to get a breath. He keeps his hand on the back of my head, and puts his other hand down around the base of his cock. I can feel him flex in my mouth, and then he pinches the base. His cock must be six inches around at this point, and I can't get more than the first few inches of his hard as steel cock into me. I gag as he tries to force me onto it, and then he lets go, still pinching the base. "Look at that fucking thing," I say, as I wrap my hand around it and use my spit to slide up and down the length. He moans and lets go with the hand that's pinching. He puts his arms behind him and leans back onto the bed, giving me my first good look at Peyton in all his naked, muscled glory. He's clearly loving my adoration. "Wait until you feel it inside you, dude. Then you'll know what that thing can do." He smiles broadly and uses one of his hands to play with a nipple. I keep my wet hand sliding on his dick, and dive underneath to his big nuts. I use my tongue to roll one and then the other in and out of my mouth. His cock flexes involuntarily from the pleasure, and I hear him moan deeply. I leave his nuts alone for a minute and lick up the bead of precum that oozed out of his big piss slit. I go back down to his nuts, stroking him the whole time, and like the base of his sac. I feel him adjust his hips ever so slightly on the edge of the bed, and his tight pink hole comes into view. I lick under his nuts, and drag my tongue down toward his hole. When my tongue hits the smooth patch of his hole, he sharply intakes, and I feel his cock pulse as his pucker flexes up away from me. I dive back into it, and he rolls back onto his back, giving me better access. "Yeah, dude, lick my hole," he says as he grabs his ankles and pulls them toward his head. His crack and hole roll into view. Peyton's massive nuts hang down from the base of his cock, and rest just an inch or so above his hole. I dive into his hole, working my tongue back and forth over it, and his nuts rest on my forehead. I'm up on my knees now, diving into him with my tongue while I furiously jerk my dick and play with my nuts. Peyton's moaning loudly from the rimjob I'm giving him. "I want you to finger me, bud." I lick my finger, and rub it back and forth over Peyton's puckered hole, and the second time I slide past it, he bears down, opens up, and rolls his hips right down onto it. His legs swing down back to the floor, and my index finger is completely buried in his ass. His eyes are closed, and he's licking his lips as he starts stroking his dick with long strokes. "Fuck me with that finger," he says huskily as a clear stream of precum starts leaking out of his piss slit. I rhythmically slide my finger in and out of his hole, and he grinds his hips on the matress, clearly relishing the pleasure of my finger inside him. I lick up all the precum that's leaking out of his dick, and he starts breathing really heavily. All of his muscles start to clench, revealing the truly impressive scope of his body. I'm in awe as I see him move his hand to the tip of his cock and start giving it short, swift strokes. "Faster, dude," he says. I pick up the pace of my finger, and he starts breathing quickly. Shallowly. All of his body clenches, and then he just stops, and slowly and deliberately gives his cock a couple of full length strokes. A few drops of cum show up at the piss slit of his now nearly-purple cock, and I lustily devour them. But that's all. "That wasn't it was it was it?" I ask a little sheepishly. He's still in his own little world, playing with his nipples and his cock, and starting to breath normally. "No, dude," he smiles. "I'm just edging a little. I'm drunk, so I got a little closer than I wanted. I'm just getting warmed up." I stands up from the edge of the bed, grabs me under my arms. He lifts me up, turs around, and throws himself on top of me onto the bed. He kisses me roughly, and runs his hands over my chest hair. My legs are spread, and I feel his massive rock hard cock pressed against my own. He runs his tongue down my chin and neck, and stops at my nipples, making me moan. Then he licks down the hair on my stomach to the stick spot of precum my leaky cock has left. He licks that up ravenously, and then slides his frame off the bed. I pulls my spread legs off the bed, rolls my hips up, and dives into my hole. His thick tongue forcefully presses into my hole. He licks around it to find purchase, and then points his tongue and forces himself inside. It feels wonderful. He's strong enough to hold my legs up, so I can just relax and enjoy the invasion. I look over to my left, and see the mirror on the closet door. Ih the mirror, I have a view of his huge, muscled ass and back and shoulders as he holds up my legs and dives into my hole. I reach for my dick, but I'm so close to cumming from this rim job, that I don't dare stroke it. Instead, I throw my hands over my head and relish the pleasure. After a few minutes of his tongue snaking its way inside me, I can't take it any more. "Fuck me, Peyt," I say quietly, at first to myself, and then again and again louder so he can hear. "I thought you'd never ask," he says, coming up for air from my well-rimmed hole. He stands up and throws my legs over his shoulders. He smears the precum he's collected up and down the shaft of his cock, and then spits down onto his dick for good measure. I'm worried. He's big. I haven't been fucked by anything this big in years. But I'm drunk. And horny. He runs his head up and down my crack, collecting some of his spit for lube. I feel him at my hole, and I roll my hips back onto him, bearing down to open up. "Ah, ah, ah, ah . . . hooo . . . take it slow," I say. He feels like a baseball inside me. I know it's only the head, but it feels so fat. And so hot. And he's flexing to send even more blood into his big mushroom. He's grinning down at me, clearly loving seeing me struggle to take his big meat. His cock is so big. I try to clench my ass and relax to get myself loosened up, but every time I relax just a little, I feel him slide a notch deeper. He's grinning, and I'm struggling. I roll my hips backward to try to pull him back a little. "uh, uh, uh," he says. "I'm getting this ass," and he slides in a little more. I roll my head over and look in the mirror, and I see his thigh's flexed as he squats a little to line up with my chute. And his ass it taut and slightly dimpled. And I can see a hint of his big low hangers. And I relax and slide down on to him a little more. I feel his big knob brush against my prostate. And I want to grab my cock and cum right there, it feels so good. But I know better. I resist the urge to cum right away, and take a little more. He's probably got four or five inches in, and he takes the opportunity to start pumping. It hurts, and I'm not used to him. And he's rougher than I would want. But he's so fucking hot. And I want his load. And his cock works against my prostate. He fucks me for a few seconds, shallowly, and I feel my hole giving way to him. We're starting to get a rhythm. And then he slides all the way in. I feel his nuts against my ass cheeks, and I feel like his cockhead must be somewhere in my throat. "Oh fuck, yeah. Love that tight ass, dude," he says, smiling down at me with sleepy eyes. "I could fuck this hole all night." He starts pumping slowly, drawing seven or eight inches of his cock out, and then sliding it all the way in. His cock works right against my prostate, and I feel my precum puddle overflow and start running down the side of my torso. I watch in the mirror as Peyton starts fucking me in earnest. He grabs my waist on both sides, grips hard, and uses his muscles to pull me on and off his huge cock, while he rolls his hips in and out. The view is spectacular. And his cock feels exquisite. "Fuck me, dude. Give me that big dick," I start moaning, really getting into the feeling of this invasion. He pulls my waist back and forth with more force, and I see his ass really flexing as he starts thrusting. The combined effect of his pulling me and thrusting with his hips is that his strokes feel incredibly deep and fast, even though he's not fucking all that quickly. It's an amazing feeling. I long to grab my cock and start jerking it, but i know I would come in an instant. And I don't want this feeling to end. His eyes are closed, and he's licking his lips, and he's concentrating on breeding my ass good. After a few minutes he pulls out. I feel like my ass is wide open to the breeze when he leaves me. "Roll over," he orders as he clambers up onto the bed. I get on all fours in front of him, and he grabs my hips from behind. In one quick stroke, he's nuts deep inside me. And he's pounding furiously. I feel his nuts slapping aginst mine as he thrusts in. I struggle to keep my hands under me from the force of his pounding. I'm doing my best to milk his big cock with my ass, but there's little I can do against this massive invader. I collapse onto my chest, my arms giving out from under me under his relentless assault. From this angle, he's poking directly into my prostate as he strokes in. "Uuunnnngh," I moan loudly. "Harder, harder, harder," I start shouting, hoping that harder strokes will get me off without touching my dick. I've been leaking precum for what seems like forever, and I want to drop a load badly. He obliges my demands, and starts fucking me like a rag doll, pulling me back onto him and bucking as fast as he can. His dick feels like it's getting bigger inside me, which is starting to hurt. He's deeper in me than I've ever been fucked. His cock feels inhumanly large. My prostate is screaming in pleasure and pain, and I think I could pass out. Suddenly he pulls out, takes a big arm and rolls me over, and straddles my stomach as he jerks his bright red cock. "Wanna eat my cum, dude?" He asks, panting, and furiously jerking his big meat. He's not looking for a response, and I watch with pure lust in my eyes as he starts spasming, every muscle in his body clenching at once, and then lets loose thick ropes of hot white cum all over my face and neck and chest. Some falls in my mouth, ant its delicious. After he shoots five or six big spurts, he leans forward and shoves his cock into my open mouth. His cock oozes a few more shots of thick cum right onto my tongue, and I clean off his big cock. He pulls out and then dives down to kiss me. I swap his cum back to him with my tongue, and he devours it greedily. "Holy fuck," he says with a sigh, his chest heaving, as he falls onto his back next to me. When he notices me jerking my cock, he rolls onto his side, his slimy cock pressed against me, and starts kissing me. I reach a hand around and start grabbing his gorgeous ass while I stroke myself. I snake a finger back into him just as I shoot my load all over myself. I lie back and try to catch my breath. I can't believe the night I've had. "That was awesome, dude. You wanna fuck me in the morning?" Peyton asks with that same sleepy grin. "I'd do it now, but I'm fucking wasted. I need to sleep." "I'd love to," I say, leaning in to give him a kiss as he stretches his big frame out on the bed. "Let me go clean up and we can catch some z's." He smiles at me as I get up and go into the bathroom. I turn on the fan, start the shower, and start cleaning myself up. I think this might be the best birthday I've ever had. Because of the fan, I don't hear him when he leaves.