Date: Sun, 19 Oct 2014 21:30:22 -0700
From: victor grant <allhailthevictor2@yahoo.com>
Subject: Manhunt Sessions

This story is fictional and any relation is coincidental.  Please be over
18 when reading

Fooling around on Manhunt on a dreary Monday afternoon when I should have
been cramming for an Econometrics test, I sifted through a couple messages,
including a K Street type who wanted to nail some hole. What started as yet
another MH chat you could conduct in your sleep took an intriguing turn.

"Hot profile, cutie. Steve here. I gotta compliment you on that sweet,
sweet hole".

(Thanks Steve)

"Can you host this afternoon?"

(Running short on time here; I have a test at 7 pm)

"That gives us 2 hours. I have to be somewhere at 6:30. Could you be talked
into getting a warm 6-day load jammed up your hole? Been a while since I've
been able to fuck a bare hole as nice as yours. I've got a thick sea of
salty swimmers here for you. Let's introduce them to that hole, huh?
Honestly, I'm so hard that I can't focus at work anymore. I'd love a chance
to mix it up with you..."

Now a 6-day load is enticement enough to drop what I'm doing. But it was
Steve's honesty and sense of fun that intrigued me. A real personality is
rare on MH.

He wasted no time showing up at my doorstep within 15 minutes. Well
dressed, maybe 29, maybe 6'1", and far cuter than his photo – Steve
reminded me of a Breckin Meyer (from Clueless) dressed up as a DC lobbyist
or policy wonk. He shook my hand and flashed a smile as he walked in, so I
played it cool. Gave him a drink and made a little small talk on the
sofa. Steve asked me about my semester as he untied his tie and unbuttoned
the top button on his shirt, never taking his eye off of me. A sly one. The
conversation slowed and he asked, "So, can you help me out here, cutie?"

He had me kneel in front of him on the sofa and undo his belt and pants,
showing a tan line, a lean body and the tiniest treasure trail leading
straight into his bright blue CKs. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt as I
pulled off his CKs and took his cock in my mouth, a slow inch at a time,
rotating my mouth and tongue around his shaft and eliciting a loud
gasp. When his mushroom head and thick shaft hit my throat, he locked his
hands on the top of my head, as I surveyed the damage he was about to
unleash on my hole. Steve had maybe 7", but it was a fucking beer can.

Hard beyond belief now, he stood up, fully naked, rock hard, grabbed my
hand, and slyly said, "Time to fuck, handsome." I led him to the bedroom as
he pulled off my t-shirt and gym shorts. Steve put me on all fours on the
bed, tongued my smooth hole lightly a couple times, and then literally spit
forcefully into it, 3 or 4 times, as his saliva blast ran down my ass
cheeks and legs. He rimmed me for a quick minute and then I felt the beer
can primed at my hole. Steve pushed his cock inside me gently, slowly,
letting me get used to his thickness. I must have winced, so he asked if he
should stop. I shook my head, and he said, "Good boy. You can take it."
Clenched my teeth until his balls were at my hole as his arms folded around
my torso. Then the real fucking began, a steady, firm fuck that knocked my
knees off balance as the beer can ripped me open. Steve fucked in a very
vocal way, a steady, "Uh-uuh-uuuh" that betrayed how much he was into
it. Not more than five minutes later, he blurted out, "Sweet fucking
cumhole" as his balls slapped furiously at my hole, desperate to unleash
their salty cargo, and right then his body tensed as shot his load inside
me. It felt warm, but not especially spasmic. It did make him collapse on
top of my back, and I lowered myself on the bed to rest for a minute. He
stayed on top of me and let his cock finish draining itself in my sperm
hole.

Finally, Steve pulled off and we lay together for a few minutes, making
post-sex small talk. He asked me about life as a student in DC. After a
minute, he let on that he was going to meet up with his partner at
6:30. (Surprise!) I opted for a stoic, poker face and asked how long they'd
been together. (Four years.) As the conversation drifted, he grew hard
again and finally cut me off, saying, "I'm gonna fuck you again, Brandon."
Steve climbed on top of me, hiking my legs on his shoulders and cupping his
hands around my neck. His cock easily slid inside me again, lubed with his
own spermload. Bending me forward, Steve began to fuck deeply, bottoming
out inside me until he mastered a jack-hammer assault on my hole. The
rocking rhythm slowly forced my body to slide further up on the bed, til he
had me pinned at the headboard, my bare feet touching the bedroom
window. For a minute, I was going to ask him to ease up, because by now he
was knocking my head into the headboard as he fucked me, as I heard a EMT
siren drive by the hospital two blocks away. But Steve's moaning was too
intense to interrupt it, and a minute later his planted his second load
inside me, then going weak again. This time, I put my arms around him and
just held him for a few minutes.

He motioned as if he was going to get up and get dressed, but then relaxed
again on my bed. I ventured into dangerous territory then, asking him about
the nature of the relationship with his partner. (Monogamous, of course.)
Steve offered that they hit a rough patch and the 6:30 was actually their
weekly couples counseling. Now, at a complete loss for words, I stammered
something or another. He gestured that it was ok, and without even asking,
crawled back into position and slid back inside me again. I hesitated for a
minute – third fucks are usually desperate hour-long affairs. But Steve
was hard again, and whispered in my ear, "I know I can blow one more load
inside you." His fucking now was gentler, and more tactile. I wrapped my
arms and legs around his back, as he bit my neck. I had lost any moral high
ground by now. Was I caressing him because I felt some odd connection with
him? Or did the wet fucking noises emanating from my sloppy hole, as Steve
rammed it again, just make me insatiable to be filled again?  Amazingly,
Steve pumped a third load inside me within a few more minutes, and we just
held onto each other, enjoying the last moments of one man breeding
another.

As he washed up and got dressed, I offered Steve my number, and he accepted
it, like a gentleman. But we both understood the limitations of our fun
afternoon, barebacking in bed. And then he left. Hopping in the shower to
clear my mind before the test, I thought about how handsome Steve is, the
type of boyfriend I'd like to have someday. His Hugo XY cologne had seeped
onto my body and I still smelled it, like a souvenir. And then I wondered
about the irony of a committed man who came over to breed a college boy 3
times, to take care of his sexual needs, right before a meeting where the
point was to talk about the unspoken things in their relationship. But my
train of thought hit pause, as I felt his load begin to leak from my hole
in the shower, running down the insides of my legs in thick, warm gobs, a
shocking amount of sperm sliding down my legs in two parallel trails,
collecting in ringlets around my ankles and sticking there, even after the
shower ended.