Date: Thu, 12 Jan 2006 14:40:18 -0500
From: Herb Cat <herb_cat@lycos.com>
Subject: I Likes Em Old

Copyright 2005 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without
the author's permission.

Please note: this story depicts sex between males. If this offends you or
is illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18,
read no further.

All names, characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional.
Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.

As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments
about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank
you.

-----

Different strokes for different folks. Least that's what some wise-ass bro
used to say on TV when I was a kid. Like some guys, they like a hunky
firm-assed stud, muscular and toned, maybe a couple tats. Other weirdoes
like a drag queen, a chick with a dick. Other fellows, they got a thing for
bears, big old beard, hairy chest, hairy asshole; they don't even mind a
beer belly, - gives em somethin to jostle. Then of course there's the
twink-lovers.  They cruise the streets for young men who say they're 18 but
don't look it. Wet behind the ears; smooth shaved; pretty face (if you
ignore the pimples) and prettier ass. Then of course there's the Nambla
crowd. 18's way too old for em. They likes em little and scrawny and
tight-assed and "innocent" and maybe virgin. Then course there's some dudes
who goes for snatch, but I aint one of em.

Nope, me, I'm not like any of em dudes. I gets my jollies gettin off on old
farts. You heard me, geezers in their sixties, seventies, even older
sometimes.

Hi, I'm Patrick, well, my baptismal certificate says `Pasquale' but no one
gets away with callin me that. You hear me?! I'm 32, work out at the Y
regular, so I got a killer bod, if I do say so myself. 5'10, 187, all
muscle. Big fat schlong, 7 1/2 inch, cut, set off by a nice lush jet black
bush. When I go paradin around the sauna at the Y buck naked, I love the
way guys look me over. I could have my pick of any asshole in the place
easily. But fuckin em would be doin em a service and that's not my style. I
do what benefits me. And for that I heads down to Chamber Park 3 or 4 times
a week when I gets off from work at the auto parts store.

What I does is I sits on a park bench, legs spread apart, wearin my tight
wife beater that shows off my muscles real good and my tighter jeans that
leaves no doubt bout the merits of my package. Most afternoons there's at
least a few old-timers sittin around, lookin bored like. They finished the
mornin paper hours ago; they ate their bag lunch and fed the crumbs to the
pigeons; maybe if they was lucky they found someone to play checkers with,
but mostly they just sit. I glance around and it never takes me long to
catch some old guy's eyes. Typical, he's in his seventies, little
overweight, hasn't shaved in a few days, wearin a sweater even though it's
like 85, gray pants all wrinkled and stained, loafers `cause he can't tie
his shoes too good no more, maybe has a four-toed cane. I know he's lookin
at me and thinkin that forty years ago, he looked this good, even though he
never did. Then I gives im a nice friendly smile and usually he's so naive,
he smiles back. I keeps lookin at im, maybe gives im a little wave like,
then maybe rub my pecs, and watch what he does.  By this time, he either
turns away and pretends to look across the park at some broad, or else his
eyes is glued on me. If that's it, I knows I got my mark. So's I puts on my
whoreboy routine. I licks my lips and I adjusts my package and I keeps on
smilin at im and I winks my eye. Then usual he picks his ass up, grabs his
cane and starts totterin my way, only he tries to look like he don't need
the cane.

"Hi, there, kid," he says.

"Hi, there, young fella," I says. That always makes em smile.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks.

"Free country," I says. So he parks his ass next to mine and we both sits
in silence a little. I know he's feelin a little uncomfortable, not sure
what to do or say next, and I loves to make im stew in his own juices a
little before I proceeds.

"So you live round here?" I asks.

"Building right there," he points out. Most of these geezers never venture
more than a few hundred feet from home. Fraid they'll get emselves
lost. "How bout you?"

"Oh, I just got off the bus this afternoon," I lies. I been here ten
years. "Is there some cheap motel near here I could stay tonight? I don't
gots a lotta money. Gotta find me a job tomorrow."

He of course believes me. Never questions why I don't has no luggage or
what. "Why, yeah, there's a nice little Motel 6 around the corner." Like
surprise, I knew that.

"Hey, that's neat. Hope it aint too spensive." I bait my hook.

"Well, now, look here. You seems like a nice young man. I'd like to do you
a favor. Fact, maybe we can do each other a favor."

"No shit, oh excuse me, Sir." I always asks em to excuse my first use of em
words, like I respect my elders, ha!

"He he, that's ok, young man. I've heard worse. I'm an old sailor (or
soldier or marine or whatever he wants to pretend he was.)

"Thank you. So what kind of a favor?" I asks.

At this point, the old man makes one of two offers.

Scenario 1: If he's widowed, he might suggest I spend the night at his
place. "Be nice to have some company. Kinda lonely knockin round in those
rooms myself since Edith passed on." More likely Edith left twenty years
ago with some stud in his forties, and the old jerk never saw it
comin. He's too insecure to try datin again but doesn't mind an occasional
blowjob from a prostitute on the corner or a whoreboy he might find in the
park.

"But, I can't pay you nothin," I says naive-like.

"That's ok, we'll work somethin out." At this point, the old man usually
rubs his dick, like he wants to tell me somethin he can't put in words.

I looks like I'm intrigued and like maybe I understand. "Oh, yeah, we can
work somethin out." Then we gets up, and I take his elbow, real patronizin
like, and we head off toward his home.

Or, scenario 2: He's got someone at home, maybe his old lady or maybe he
lives with a son or daughter, who he can't stand. So then he might suggest
that he could lend me the dough for the motel.

"But, I don't knows when I can pay you back," I says naive-like. And then
the scene plays itself out the same way `cept this time we go totterin over
to Motel 6, where he hands me a couple fifties and tells me to go into the
office alone, cause then we don't need to splain who he is, (and of course
he don't want to be seen with me). And I goes in and says Hi to my good
friend Jake at the desk, and we jokes bout catchin another old fish. And he
gives me the room on the end for $39. And I goes back out and lets on like
there's no change to speak of.

Now either way, as I heads off with im, either to his place or the motel, I
grills im bout his family and his friends and acts like I gives a shit bout
his pathetic life when really all I's doin is gettin some info I can use
later. When I gets im alone after while, then I starts to change the
script.

"Now, kid, why don't you and I get more comfortable. Let me, um, take your
shirt off," he stammers.

"OK, you old shit-head. This is how it goes." I says. And course he looks
real startled to hear me talk like that. "First off, you don't call me
kid. You call me Sir. You got that?"

"B-b-but," his eyes are all scared like and he's startin to shake and I
laugh thinkin he's gonna have a heart attack or somethin.

"Say it, you old fart!"

"Sir. Yes, sir," he mumbles.

"That's more like it. Now kick your shoes off, pops!" He trembles like but
gets em off. "Now your dirty old pants." And he looks at me and wonders how
he got hisself into this shit, but he undoes his belt which goes round im
like 1 1/2 times and then opens his zipper and obediently drops trou,
showin me his baggy boxers and his knobby knees and his varicose veins and
the oldman garters holdin up his socks. I makes im stand there like that
shiverin and I walks round im. "OK, now take off your peed up shorts." And
he does, and by then I know he really likes takin my shit, cause I see he's
hidin a little smile and he aint shakin quite as much. If I'm lucky, --
it's happened 2-3 times, -- he's wearin a big old diaper and then I just
laugh my head off while he turns all scarlet and undoes the tape and lets
em fall. But whether he's got a Depends or just his boxers, I makes im pick
it up and sniff his piss cause by that time in the afternoon every old man
has had enough leaks to reek. Then I circles round im again and pokes at
his flabby ass and his withered old dick and I keeps chucklin.

Then I takes out my cell phone and I points it at im and takes his picture
and then shows it to im cause some of em don't even knows a phone can do
that. And he looks real concerned and mumbles, "What are you goin to do
with that?"

"Did you just speak to me, shithead?

And right away he knows his mistake. "Sorry, Sir. It's just. . ."

I snaps a few more like closeups of his privates and I tells im, "Yeah,
well, you just do what I say or I'll send copies of these here pictures to
your daughter (or son or wife or checker buddy or priest or the commander
of his legion hall or Mason muckamuck of whoever I've picked up that he
might not want to see im naked like this.)"

"Now, do we understand each other, you old fart?" No matter what name I
calls im, the qualifier is always the same, "old."

He nods and looks down at his pathetic genitals and I knows he's smilin
again. "Yes sir."

"You learn fast, pops, for a senile old fool."

"Yes sir."

"OK, on your knees, old gramps."

"Yes sir." He struggles a little, what with his arthritis and all, but gets
his knees down on the floor.

"Yeah, now your mouth is at just the right level, you old fart." I stand in
front of im, my big old package right in his face for im to look at
jealously. "You like that, don't you, old man?"

"Yes sir," and I knows he does.

"Maybe you think you had one like this once."

"Yes, I could make the ladies real happy with . . ."

"Shut up, you lyin old fool. I don't wanta hear none of your stories bout
your male prowess.  You never had a decent boner in your life and you knows
it."

"No sir." We both knows it.

"Well, then takes a look at a real man's cock, you old faggot. Open my
fly."

"Yes sir." His old hands are shaking, but he manages to get the zipper down
and the waist unbuttoned. Now his eyes stares at my bright red jock with
its enticin bulge. I take my thumbs and slowly inch my jeans down to my
knees. If he's wearin glasses, this is when I rips em off im and throws em
on the floor.

"Smell it, you old homo." He closes his eyes and leans his fat nose toward
my semihard cock. I grabs the back of his head and presses his face right
gainst my jock. "You like it, don't you, old man, the smell of a real male
with ragin hormones, not all dried up like you?"

"Yes sir." He's rememberin the way he used to smell.

"Lick it, you old faggot."

"Yes sir." He opens his eyes and his mouth and puts his tongue on the wet
red mesh and begins to slobber over my package. Inwardly, I'm lovin the way
his old catarrh makes my cock feel, but I don't show any outward
expression, other than domination.

"Enough, you old faggot. Let the boys out to play."

"Yes sir." He pulls my jock down and gets his first unhampered look at my
manhood.  Unfettered, my cock now rises to the occasion and I let it rest
on the tip of his nose. He pets my balls, nostalgically.

"Yeah, you likes em."

He nods and whispers softly, "Yes sir."

"Jerk me off, old timer. I knows you can still do that. You jack off all
day long when you're sittin lone watchin TV, don't you."

Again he nods, "Yes sir," and starts expertly workin way on my dick with
his gnarly old hands. He gets it bone stiff and the piss slit glistens with
a few drops of pre-cum. He makes no effort now to hide his enjoyment. He
glances up at my face with his old puppy dog eyes.

"Yes, you sick old bastard, you may suck it." Of course, before we rived
here, he was expectin to get a blow job from me. Then as I got into the
humiliation routine, he had been secretly hopin that I would force my cock
in his mouth. What he didn't know is that I was readin his senile old mind
and now I was graciously givin im permission to blow me. No doubt
embarrassed, but still grateful, he opens his mouth, takes out his dentures
and starts gummin way on my manstick. Man, if you never been sucked by a
geriatric guy, you haven't lived. These guys are experts at toothlessly
gnawin way on a piece of meat. It don't matter none that this is their
first bona fide blow job.

So he chaws way on me like one of his stinky cigars, and moans soft like,
and I see some tears slowly oozin from his closed eyes. I takes out my
phone gain and gets a few more pics and he doesn't know what I'm doin and
even though his face aint in the pic, the liver spot pattern on his bald
head make a unique fingerprint. There's no denyin the old cocksucker is im.

Meanwhile, his hands are busy also. He keeps workin on his own sorry dick,
thinkin he can put new life into his old dead pecker. It's useless of
course. When his PSA was climbin through the roof a few years back and he
finally went to get his peepee looked at and he found out his old prostate
had cancer, he didn't think none bout the consequences, he greed to have em
cut it out, and he aint had a boner since. I heard the story a hundred
times.

I keep pushin my mantool in and out of his maw, each time goin a little
further `til I'm pressin gainst the back of his old throat. He chokes a
little, cause I know he aint been on the receivin end of a blowjob before,
but he remembers well enough how all those hookers down through the years
sucked his dick, back when he could still get it up, so the old veteran
knows what his duty is and doesn't resist my inevitable advance.

After a while, we both feels it cummin. That throb. That distinctive dick
shudder. I know he's wonderin if he's gonna hafta swaller my jizz or what,
but I gots myself other ideas. At the last moment, I pulls out and splays
my manjuice all over his sorry gray face. One, two, three big eruptions,
followed by a series of diminishin spurts. If he was honest, he'd have to
mit he'd never cummed like that hisself in all his long sorry life. He
keeps his eyes closed tight and savors the beautiful warm cream as it oozes
down his wrinkled old face.  He laps at his upper lip and pulls tonguefuls
of it in to reward his gums for all their fine efforts. He bows his head in
reverence before his young Adonis.

"You aint finished, you old cocksucker, you know."

"No sir," he says softly, almost grateful at the news.

"While Mr. Johnson here recuperates and gets his strength back, you take
off all your clothes, you old feeble excuse for a man."

He goes over to the bed now and sits down. He unbuttons his sweater
carefully and slips it off. His shirt is totally saturated with his old
sweat. He unbuttons it part way and then slips it over his head. Then comes
the t shirt with the stained armpits. Finally, the garters and socks come
off his old scrawny legs. He sits before me, totally conquered, a sorry
naked specimen of shitness, devoid of testosterone, complete with saggin
tits.

"Stand up, old lady."

"Yes sir."

"Face the bed, old bitch."

"Yes sir."

"It's time for your annual prostate exam. Bend over, put your hands on your
ass and open it for the doctor."

"Yes sir." He meekly complies. They always meekly comply.  As if, after
seventy some years on this planet, he is finally learnin what he is good
for.

I walks over, kneels behind im, and buries my face between his stinkin ass
cheeks. My tongue begins latherin his old dry smelly shithole. I loves this
part. He moans. He remembers how he could never convince his wife to do
anythin oral. How even his whores who sucked im off balked at kissin his
ass. Now he sees what he was missing. His tight little old sphincter starts
to give in. I spit on my finger and push it into his willin hole. He has
probably had fifty DREs in his life. Out of habit, the old guy usually
coughs. Then I puts two fingers inside im and start to spread his
holemuscle open. It's tight, just the way I like it. It might be two or
three days since his last BM. They are always hard cause he doesn't eat the
fiber like the doc tells im.

I reaches in my shirt pocket and takes out my phone gain and uses my free
hand to snaps a few closeups of the old shit can gettin opened. Then I
takes out the little tube of lube that's been waitin there all this time
for this moment. I uses my teeth to unscrew the cap, then pulls my fingers
not quite all the way out (they are slightly brown, that's ok). I spreads a
glop of lube on em and gets it well spread over the whole, inside and out.

By now, my cock is standin erect once more. I leans in. Out come the
fingers and my helmet is pressed hard gainst the old guy's male pussy.

"OK, you old bitch, I'm comin in whether you want it or not. Do you want
it?"

"Yes sir," he says honestly.

"I knew it. OK, don't tighten up on me yet." He briefly lets down his guard
and I feels the sphincter relax ever so briefly, so I plunges head.

He screams. His hands fly off his ass as he stables hisself on the
bed. He's quiverin. His naked body is sweatin from every pore. His seventy
odd year old virgin ass has been deflowered.

I pumps and pumps. I holds his ass tight. I reaches round and pulls his
limp little cock. I grits my teeth. His asshole has a vice grip on my
manhood. I can't pull out if I wanted to.  But I don't want to. I pounds
way on im. Very quickly, we both feels the ejaculation gain, but this time
I stays inside im. My warm babymakers fill his shit hole. I quickly snaps a
couple more pics of my cock inside his hole. Then my chest falls over his
back. He leans forward and slowly we descend on to the bed, my cock still
inside im. He is whimperin like a ten year old.

After a few minutes, my semi flaccid cock reappears. I tells im to lick it
off.

"Yes sir" he mumbles, though I know the smell of his own shit detests im. I
grabs his hand and makes im wipe his own ass oozin with my juice and I then
pushes his hand into his toothless mouth. I does this a few times and he
finally begins to do it hisself, felchin my mancream from his own ass. I
takes a few last pics.

I stands up and gets dressed. Then I leans over his old limp used and
useless body and shows im the series of pics I have.

"If I ever see you gain, you old fart face, you'll find these pics mounted
on the wall in the men's john in Chamber Park. And, remember, I knows where
you live. (Or I know where you goes to church, or where your son lives, or
some other such threat.)

The old guy never gain shows up in the park. He probably wants me to fuck
im gain. I spects he's sittin at home every afternoon thinkin bout the day
he gave up his ass to that mazin kid. But me, now that he's no longer a
virgin, I has no use for im. I just goes to the park and waits. There will
always be nother old fart there for me to fuck.