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Fucking hot !!!!! thank you for sharing, love to be in Jake’s jock (shoes) for a weekend or more! 🐷🦯🐷🦯🐷😈 @jakeryderxxx

God I'd love to bury my face in your cunt and taste all those hot loads.

Didn’t expect to take another one tonight… My hole was still pink and puffy from earlier—felt loose just walking around. He messaged while I was scrolling in bed. Older, thick build, smelled like weed, sweat, and a hard day. When I opened the door, he didn’t even speak—just looked me up and down and said, “Still leaking?” I nodded. He followed me to the bed, spit once, and pushed in slow. My cunt sucked him in like it already knew him. I moaned without meaning to—it wasn’t just the stretch, it was the way I could feel his cock gliding through other men’s cum inside me. He fucked slow, but deep. Long pulls. Like he wanted to swirl it all up. When he came, he went still, pressed in tight, like he was pouring something into me that needed to stay. When he left, I just laid there—dripping, dizzy, almost high off the heat. About to finally seal 🔌😈

Hello beautiful, I’m feeling a bit sad today. You know, sometimes I wonder how much about the future I should send to you—if you’ll become constantly anxious, waiting for my daily messages, not knowing what the future holds. I ask myself whether I should send you the bad news or let you experience things on your own. I mean, if I tell you everything that’s going to happen, is there any joy left in the unknown? But then I think about when we read a book and a movie adaptation comes out. We already know what’s going to happen because we’ve read the book, but the movie isn’t any less exciting just because we know how it ends, is it? I know I’ve been talking non-stop about Phil the past couple of days, and today won’t be any different. I realised you don’t know what he looks like, or the little interactions that play out between us—and I think I’ll leave that magic for you to experience when you meet him. I’ll only cover the major events. I got a message from him today. Just the usual banter we exchange from time to time, but then, towards the end, he dropped a bombshell: he’s moving to Sydney in a couple of months to expand his business. My initial reaction was excitement for him. His business is his life, and it’s great that he’s thinking about growing it. But then I remembered the first few weeks after I met him, when he said he wanted to slow down this year because he was burnt out—from work, from relationships. He said he needed to let his thoughts catch up with him. I don’t think he was lying. I think that was just where he was in that moment—tired, post-breakup, just trying to find himself again. But that was a couple of months ago. He’s healing now. He’s finding himself again. And I think he’s gaining clarity on what he wants to do with his life. Right now, he’s pouring everything into his work. And maybe, a part of him is also moving to Sydney for a fresh start in life and love. I remember when we broke up with Kevin, how I wanted to join the Airforce—not just for structure or adventure, but partly to reset my life. To make a big change so everything felt new. And you know what I found at the end of that, buddy? I found that happiness had been right on my doorstep the whole time. But I was still glad I went through the journey to discover that for myself. I used to think that when the universe finally pushed Phil away, I’d be relieved—because then I’d be forced to stop chasing. And now that day has come, and I don’t feel relief at all. I mean, I’m happy for him. But I’m also overwhelmed with sadness. I sat with it all day, trying to pinpoint it, and I think the sadness comes from the loss of possibility—the slow closing of the door on what we might have been. I’ve been loosening my grip on him for a while now, and now the universe is saying, “Let go.” And the truth is, I’ve had the power to do so all along. But I’m struggling. It’s not easy, buddy. You know what it feels like? It feels like the ache I had when I broke up with Van. Or with Kevin. Except this one feels different, but it cuts just as deep. It’s different because with Van and Kevin, we gave it a proper shot and we knew it wouldn’t work out. With Phil, we’re dancing with possibility—with what-ifs and maybes. And sometimes, those are just as powerful. Just as painful. So yeah, that’s where I’m at, buddy. I’m grieving. But I will let the feeling wash over me instead of running away from it. I will let the pain hurt, because it means I really cared. It means I really loved him—with everything I had. But I can tell you one thing for sure—and you probably already know this: we’re never going to give up on love. Not in this lifetime. There are still so many guys out there we haven’t met yet, and I’m going to keep trying and trying and trying. I won’t let my heart go cold. I won’t build walls just because love is hard. Because I know it’s worth it. We’ve felt it before. And when it’s right, it’s beautiful. You’re going to be alright, buddy. I promise. Love you always. Chat soon xx

I always swallow. How can anyone waste all that beautiful cum that's been brewing waiting to be savoured by a willing cock suckered. Nope it has to be swallow every time for me.

When I was younger and more sexually active, I frequently hit guys second ring. I don't know that I'd describe it as wildly stimulating but it was hot knowing I was going that deep into a guy. I always tried to shoot in there. As I've gotten older and had some medical issues, I don't get as hard (and I swear I'm not as "big".) I also don't fuck as much as I used to. I've consequently not gotten past a guy's ring in a while. But when I'm with someone who is "fun sized" it seems to be a bit easier. Yet another reason I like guys smaller than I am 🙂

I agree I'm married. took my first dick up my ass before I was married. The thrill of cock excites me more now. I like cock better than pussy.

More please, Friday please… thank you I’m pleased

Mmmh hot story!

I'm about to get slammed and bred by a poz breeder. I want his strain

I was 23 and Father John was 32 and a newly ordained Catholic priest in his first parish assignment. Fr. Joe, an older priest at my parish encouraged me to make an appointment with Fr. John at a nearby parish. Fr. Joe said he was confident Fr. John would be able to provide me with meaningful spiritual direction, given Fr. John was close to my age in comparison to most other priests, and relatable. I contacted Fr. John, telling him Fr. Joe encouraged me to reach out to him, and we made an evening appointment. Fr. John told me to meet him in the parish gymnasium at 9pm on the upcoming Thursday evening. When I arrived at the parish and parked, the last two cars in the parking lot were leaving. The gymnasium door was unlocked and when I walked in, there was only one person in the gymnasium. He approached me with a dazzling smile, introduced himself as Fr. John and said, "You must be Jimmy!" He firmly shook my hand and apologized for his casual attire, as he was wearing a black t-shire that said "CLERGY" on the front, black athletic shorts, white athletic socks, and sneakers. Fr. John explained he had just finished coaching the parish’s Catholic Youth Organization (CYO) varsity basketball practice. He told me to give him a second to lock the gymnasium door so we could spend some time getting to know one another. As Fr. John walked away from me to lock the gym door, I was fucking floored. He was so fucking hot, with a great body, dark black hair, and handsome face. His t-shirt emphasized a great chest and his shorts showed off his amazing ass as well as his athletic legs. His white athletic socks also made his calves stand out in the best way possible. This guy was a fucking wet dream and I later found out he had the nick name of “Father What-A- Waste" within the diocese. Once Fr. John locked the gymnasium door, he led me through a maze of hallways that put us in the rectory, and he took me into what I believe were his private living quarters. Fr. John sat in a chair while he directed me to sit on the sofa. He said he had some questions he wanted to ask me to get to know me better and started by asking, "Are you gay, Jimmy?" My eyes bugged out because I was not out to my family yet, but I was not about to lie to this stunning man. I sheepishly acknowledged I was gay, but that no one knew. Fr. John then told me to stand up and turn around. In a moment, I felt a presence directly behind me. I felt hands come around my waist and fingers undid my belt buckle and unbuckled my jeans. These fingers then unzipped my jeans and firmly pulled my jeans and underwear down so they were below my ass cheeks. I heard spit and then felt two fingers push into my pucker hole. The fingers were removed after loosening my hole up and I heard shorts being pulled down behind me. I then felt a hand against my back, pushing me slightly forward and then the head of a cock pushed inside of me. Hands firmly grabbed my hips and started fucking me with a girthy cock. I eventually heard a soft moan and grunt and felt the plump cock pulsate inside of me as it dumped a load of cum up my ass. I felt the cock pull out and hands come to my hips to tug my underwear and jeans up over my ass and back into place. I then heard shorts pulled back into place directly behind me as I buckled my jeans and belt back into place. When I turned back around, Fr. John was sitting in his chair and gave me another dazzling smile. He stood up and said, “Let me walk you out.” He took me to the back door of the rectory and as he opened it, said, “Safe driving home, Jimmy and God bless.” As I walked out of the rectory and saw my car in the parking lot in the distance, Fr. John closed and locked the door behind me and turned off the porch light, as he settled in for the rest of his night.

So my first potential one was scabies, not sure if I picked it up from sleeping in hostels while I traveled around Europe after I graduated college or caught it from one of dozens of guys I had sex with while traveling around Europe after graduating from college. Next I had several UTIs after topping raw in my 20s. First of the common STI's was the clap followed by gono. I think I have had them both twice in 33 years of being sexually active as an adult.

I wish I will be able to experiment with a black dick 🥵

Surely would like to take Jakes place, but knowing I might not stand it

This is my wet dream. Picking up a skinny hung twink from a bar assuming I'm breeding his pretty little as but turns out he makes me his little bitch for the night 😳🥵

Hey guys, I just put myself on the cumdump network, I’m on the last page. Shooting me a text is best cause of my schedule. Really want to suck on a cock, or get fucked by a guy that is a heavy shooter! Cum get me! Check out my BBRTS profile or my other ones!

This will be a longer story. So stay with it. Maybe it is not immidiatly what you expect. For the rest enjoy it The neon lights of the local bar flickered against the polished mahogany, casting an otherworldly glow over the faces of my friends and me as we clinked our glasses together. The air had the scent of alcohol and laughter, a potent cocktail that promised a night of unbridled fun and reckless abandon. The music was a steady pulse in the background, setting the rhythm for our conversations and the occasional shuffling of our feet as we felt the first whispers of the beat in our bones. We were all dressed to the nines, our clothes sticking slightly to our skin in the humid warmth of the bar. The drinks were cold and strong, each sip a delightful shock to the system that had us all feeling a little less inhibited with every passing minute. The evening was young, and the excitement of the night ahead had us all buzzing like a hive of eager bees, eager to find our sweet spot in the urban jungle. As the hours ticked by, the conversation grew louder, the laughter more raucous. The time to move to the next stage of our nocturnal escapade had arrived. With a collective nod, we gathered our things and made our way down the road to the throb of bass that signaled the heart of the nightclub. The line outside was a serpent of vibrant energy, writhing to the music that spilled into the street like a siren's call. The bouncer, a mountain of a man with a stern face, checked our IDs and let us slide through the velvet rope. The club was a cavern of sensory delights, the music a living entity that filled every corner, making the walls pulse and the floor vibrate beneath our feet. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and perfume, a heady mix that was as intoxicating as the drinks we had consumed earlier. We wove through the crowd, our eyes scanning the sea of bodies for the perfect place to anchor ourselves. My friends and I danced with a variety of women, their smiles as bright as the disco lights that painted their faces. Each had a story to tell, a dance to share, a kiss to offer. The night was a tapestry of fleeting connections, a dance of desire and possibility. The music grew more intense, and so did the press of bodies around us, a writhing mass of humanity seeking the same primal release. As the night grew later, the club's energy shifted, the crowd's pulse grew stronger, and my friends began to peel away like petals from a flower. One by one, they shouted their goodbyes over the din, their eyes glazed with the excitement of the night's conquests and the promise of what lay ahead. I remained, not quite ready to leave the intoxicating embrace of the music, the lights, and the unspoken challenge of the dance floor. Then, amidst the frenetic dance of bodies, I spotted her: Manuela, a vision of Brazilian beauty with a round, tempting ass that swayed to the rhythm like a hypnotist's pendulum and breasts that seemed to defy gravity with every step. Her smile was the warmth of a summer sun, and it washed over me as she approached. We danced together, our bodies moving in a silent conversation that grew more intimate with each beat. Her skin was smooth, her eyes a dark, inviting mystery. I was lost in the moment, my mind a whirlwind of desire and the sweet scent of her perfume. As the night grew wilder, my last friend shouted over the music that he'd be heading home, his voice barely a murmur in the chaos. He gave me a knowing look, a nod of approval towards Manuela, and disappeared into the throng of people. The crowd closed around us like a curtain, leaving us in our own little world. She leaned in close, her breath hot against my ear as she whispered, "You don't have to go home alone tonight." Her words sent a thrill down my spine, and I followed her through the club like a moth to a flame. She led me to a corner where a group of her friends were huddled together, their eyes glinting with mischief. One of them, a tall, curvy woman with a wicked smile, looked me up and down before declaring, "He can become a nice little gatinha," and they all burst into laughter. I didn't know what it meant, so I just laughed with them. We danced some more, our bodies moving closer and closer until there was no space between us. The music washed over us like a warm, velvet wave, carrying us along in its seductive embrace. I felt Manuela's hands roaming my body, her touch electric and confident, leaving trails of fire wherever she touched. Her friends watched us with amused interest, whispering among themselves in Portuguese. The night grew thick with anticipation, and finally, Manuela leaned in to whisper, "Let's go," her breath tickling my ear. I nodded eagerly, and she led me out of the club and into the cool night air. The streets were deserted, the only sound our footsteps echoing off the concrete. Her hand was warm in mine, guiding me through the quiet, shadowy streets. We talked about trivial things, the conversation a gentle stream that flowed effortlessly between us, masking the thunderous anticipation building in my chest. When we arrived at her house, she turned to face me, the moonlight caressing her features like a lover's hand. She leaned in, her soft, full lips pressing against mine, and suddenly, the world narrowed down to just the two of us. Her kiss was insistent, demanding, and I found myself eagerly responding. Our tongues danced together, a sensual tango that sent jolts of pleasure through my body. Her hands roamed my shoulders, her touch light yet firm, and I felt the first stirrings of something new, something that hinted at a power she hadn't revealed at the club. As we made out, her words whispered through the night, "Você é tão gostoso, meu boiola." I didn't understand, but the tone was affectionate, almost teasing. "You are such a nice boiola," she said again in English, her eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "And you are going to be a nice gathina," she added, her hand sliding down to squeeze my ass. The term was unfamiliar, but the way she said it sent a shiver down my spine, a delicious mix of excitement and confusion. Without another word, she got down on her knees, her dress hiking up to reveal smooth, toned thighs. She reached for my zipper, her movements deft and practiced, as if this was a dance she had performed a hundred times before. The cool air hit my skin as she pulled my boxers down, and my cock sprang free, standing at attention from the anticipation that had been building all night. Her eyes widened slightly, a look of surprise and hunger crossing her features. "Nice higz," she murmured, her accent thick and tantalizing as she wrapped her soft, delicate hand around my shaft. Her thumb stroked the head gently, sending a shiver through me that made me gasp. "I like that," she said, her voice a purr that seemed to resonate in my very bones. Manuela leaned in closer, her lips parting to reveal perfect, white teeth as she took me into her warm, wet mouth. She began to suck with a slow, deliberate rhythm that had me moaning in pleasure. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before - a masterful performance that had every nerve in my body standing at attention. She was in complete control, and I was her eager, willing participant. Her tongue swirled around my shaft with a skill that belied her innocent demeanor at the club. She hit every spot, her touch as precise as it was passionate. The sensation was overwhelming, and I found myself bucking my hips, trying to push deeper into the velvety heat of her mouth. She took it all, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked me with an enthusiasm that was as surprising as it was arousing. Her eyes never left mine, and the intensity of her gaze was almost too much to bear. As the pleasure grew, so did my curiosity about the term she had used. "What's a gathina?" I managed to ask between gasps. She chuckled, the sound vibrating against my cock, sending waves of pleasure through my body. "It's a good boy," she said, her voice thick with desire. "A boy who does everything his lady tells him." Her mouth was a symphony of sensations, each movement more masterful than the last. Her tongue danced around the sensitive ridge of my cock, her teeth grazing lightly against my skin, and her hand cupped my balls, applying just the right amount of pressure. It was clear that she knew what she was doing, and she was taking me on a journey that I never wanted to end. But as the crescendo approached, I could feel myself losing control. My hips began to buck more urgently, and I reached down to grip her hair, guiding her rhythm to match the pounding of my pulse. And then, with a guttural groan, I exploded into her mouth, my cum spurting in hot, thick ropes that she eagerly swallowed. She didn't miss a beat, continuing to suck and lick until every last drop had been wrung from me. Manuela got up, her knees popping as she rose to her full height. She licked her lips with a smack and a wink, the taste of me still fresh in her mouth. She reached up and closed my pants, her movements slow and deliberate, almost taunting in their casualness. Before I could fully process what had happened, she was on me again, kissing me deeply. The salty tang of my own cum mixed with the sweetness of her mouth, a heady cocktail of passion and submission that had me reeling. "Maybe next week," she said, pulling away with a smirk, "you come over and see what else I have planned for my little boiola." Her eyes gleamed with a mischief that sent a shiver down my spine, and I nodded eagerly, unable to hide my excitement. I had never felt so alive, so utterly consumed by desire for someone. Manuela reached into her tiny clutch and pulled out a pen, scribbling something on a napkin that she handed to me. "Call me," she said, her voice a seductive purr, "and I will tell you where to be next Friday." She leaned in, whispering the words "be a good boy" before she turned and sashayed away, her hips moving with a mesmerizing sway that had every eye in the club on her. After she closed her door. Turned around and walked back home. I could not stop thinking qbout how this night had turned out. I met this beautifull girl and she liked me as well, she gave me her number and even wanted to see me next week again. I opened my door without realizing itand went straight to bed. I felt a sleep feeling happy an d euphoric, i didn't know than what Manuela all had planned for me.