Ranger Rick

So, tonight I hooked up with a cute, ginger muscle cub in a very tight leather harness. In most respects, it was a good fuck, I pounded him hard and aggressively. But it was the first condom fuck I've thrown in forever. It really was less than I've come to enjoy and my eventual orgasm was on the weak side. I actually had to jack off again when we were done. I guess baresex has spoiled me.

Amen to that.

A guy I have been intermittently chatting with for over a year finally invited me over last night. The scenario was he was going to bottom for 4-5 tops he had also invited over. I got there first because I was eager to drop a multi-day load. He was drop dead hot. Military, muscled ginger. We made out, he went to the shower to clean up and douche while he waited for the others. When he got done, the others hadn't arrived so we just got into it. As we were sixty-nining... him blowing my hard cock, me rimming his sweet smooth ginger hole... the other two showed up. One was balding and out of shape, the other was an older, kind of snooty guy who wouldn't make eye contact with anybody. One of them had bad breath. I was definitely the pick of that litter. I got to go first. We shared poppers. He rode me for a while, then he let one of the others plow him missionary. Then I did him missionary and gave him my load. The other two finished. We took turns in the shower. He and I made out again as I was leaving. I would love to have an extended one-on-one with his sweet ginger ass sometime.

Finally nailed a piece of young ginger ass. For the longest time, couldn't tell if he was really interested or just cockteasing. So, I told him, basically, put out or shut up. Got him home. Got to play with that fine, smooth, ginger ass for an extended period of time before plowing it. And he took it like a pro.

This older but-still-in-pretty-good-shape schoolteacher was the recipient of the three-day load I was saving for one of the two cute young gingers I've been working on on A4A but who keep bailing. That's a convoluted sentence, but you get the drift. Pretty good fuck, but teach seems to be developing unreciprocated feelings for me, so I should probably start breaking it off.

I have an aversion to skinny guys and an appreciation for heavier guys who carry it with pride; is that the same thing?

I get "I love your big strong arms" a lot, but it's the comments on the size of my load that give me the most goodfeels.

Not so much from work, but I run into my sons' friends on Scruff and A4A more often than I would have thought likely; and not the "out" ones.

I was cleaning my 9MM this morning and found out I was out of solvent. Then it occurred to me, "Poppers are a solvent." Problem solved. (I don't think I would do this on the regular, but it worked in a pinch.)

Returning from a weekend trip, first hook-up with a kinky and kind of gross young pig, but it worked out to a blow-and-go. Then, for the first time ever, hooked up with a guy from BBRT. Former pro-athlete, at least ten years older than the age given on his profile, but gave a quality blowjob.

Aw, you're a sweetheart.

Was really horny last night, so when the prospect of a hook-up came from, literally, "the next town over," I hopped in the car and drove. Suburban house, middle-aged couple, but they had invited a third (a fourth) and were all in the bedroom. The extra dude was a bit younger, kind of cute, but kind of flamey. It was a "safe" scene, so after exchanging blows for a while, we gave him two facials and a load on his chest. Long drive for a relatively short session, so I popped on A4A Mobile to see if any other prospects were around. Found one, younger dude, a little husky but not a chub. His roommates were out and he was horny. Asked him how he wanted to play it, and he said, "Just give it to me," so I obliged. Was much more satisfied with him than with the earlier encounter.

Smokin' hot 25 year old banker just left with a cargo of baby batter. Yeeeee-haw!

Originally, this story was going to be a (no pun intended) "one shot," sort of an ode to a certain hot lacrosse player. But since there's demand, I have a couple of ideas for a sequel I'm kicking around.

Had a hookup this morning with a fiftysomething muscledaddy I met on Scruff. I think I threw him some moves he didn't expect because when I was done he was shaking and telling me how incredible it was. (Blush). Did the pr0n thing, coming on the outside and pushed it in.

Finally hooked up with a guy I've been chatting up on A4A since just after Christmas. Short but muscular fireplug type body, ex-navy, nice set of tattoos. Hot as long as he keeps his mouth shut (when he talks, you expect him to break out in show tunes.) Anyway, went to his place, and very quickly got down to business. Both of us are used to being the "aggressor," so there was some jockeying for dominance, which was really hot and a nice change after the submissive cubs and twinks I've been having. Of course it led to some flipping, and he's into poppers, which was also good. In the end, we blew our loads on each other not in each other, but it was a good lay just the same.

The older man looked to be in his mid-forties, with a brush-cut, and thick, strong build, big white teeth; a high school football coach straight from central casting. His stride is confident, walking into the bath house like he doesn't give a shit who sees him. He walks up to the thick-glassed window and says he needs a deluxe room. He presents his driver's license and smiles as he shoves a wad of 20's through the slot. The boy he brought with him ... hot as fuck. He's athletically built, his short hair was peroxided blond with more than a hint of brass. He's a little shorter than the older man, but his muscles were well-defined, built in a weight room, sculpted on practice fields; it's all lean muscle, so there's no extra bulk to carry around the field with him. But his eyes... his eyes are distant and blank... like he was drugged or hypnotized before he was brought here. And he never says a word. He just fumbles in his black and red lacrosse shorts and eventually produces an ID that says he's old enough to enter; and it looks legit. The coach winks and puts his arm around the boy as they are buzzed through the big heavy door. As they disappear into the darkly lit chambers beyond, there's still no certainty what their relationship is. Were they actually coach and athlete? Or were they role playing? Was the boy on some sort of drug, or had he been completely conditioned to accept the will of his master? And if it was the latter, what regimen of discipline, deprivation, and punishment had led him to that state of submission? They've taken a room in the back and left the door ajar. A small group of men have gathered to watch and ... to wait. Beyond the door, a beefy man with a goatee is just finishing. His cock is buried in the boy's muscled ass and the overhang of his hairy belly smacks the small of the boy's back as he thrusts into him. The thick fingers of his hands are braced on the boy's muscled shoulders for leverage as he pumps his cock in the boy's tailpipe. He finishes with a loud grunt and shoves his cock as deep as it will go, then holds it there as he pumps his semen into the boy's waiting guts. He grunts again then pulls out, he picks up his towel from the floor and wipes off his crank with it, avoiding eye contact as he slips out the door. The older man ... coach, master, father... looks out into the hall and makes a selection. "You!" The boy is on a fuck bench, his wrists secured to the post in front of him. He is naked, of course, his shorts and mesh jersey tossed onto the floor, his skin is tanned and smooth. His well-muscled shoulders taper to his trim waist and the nice, round convex ass that was presenting itself, his pink rosebud posed invitingly above his long, smooth legs. It is almost as though a young god has been captured, bound, and laid out for the use of filthy mortal men. The blindfold serves more to hide his identity, to make him an anonymous object-of-fuck, then it does to hide the identities of his sires from him. A few sweat-streaked curls of badly dyed hair protrude around its edges. He is awake, conscious but unseeing, his expression remains fixed; he either does not care who is breeding him or is not allowed to raise an objection, and so it makes no difference if he can see them or not. The boy's ass-cheeks are muscle-hard and hairlessly smooth, the crevasse between them already slick to the touch with a mix of slick, warm lubricant and a few leftover drips of seed left behind by the bear who had used his ass already. When touched, he neither flinches, nor moans, nor tenses... he betrays no reaction at all. The coach puts his hands on either cheek and spreads them apart, displaying his hole was not quite closed, but gapes, just a little bit, as though crying out to be filled. Coach says, with sleazy, debauched pride, "Ain't that the sweetest ass you've ever seen? Popping his cherry was the fuck of a lifetime." He runs his rough white hand on the inside of the boy's muscular thigh, then back again to his ass, displaying his prize like a cut of prime beef. When he gets to the ass, he draws the cheeks apart again and shoves two fingers inside to grind the bear's load into the walls of the boy's intestines. The boy twitches as he does this, little flicks of the muscles in his back and arms. He feels what is happening to him, but makes no effort to resist or even acknowledge it. The coach shows his fingertips, glistening with moistness. "What are you waiting for, buddy?" coach asks with a wink. "Fuck that bitch." His ass has been opened up by the previous fuck, but still it resists the cock sliding into it. It takes hard pressing and concentration to get it inside, but once in, the sensation is amazing, like slipping into a warm, velvet pocket. His fuck tunnel grips the cock, but it is slick and warm and begs the cock to naturally go into motion. Each thrust is welcomed by warmth and meets just enough resistance to make for a perfect fit. As the cock continues thrusting in and out, the humanity of the body it is penetrating fades, and the boy becomes but a receptacle for lust and gratification. It's as though this muscular buck has been conquered, and his strength and power are being harvested by the man on top of him; this is what topping is all about, pumping hard cock into an ass begging to be seeded. It's as though this ass was designed to be fucked, and any other purpose would be a waste. The load builds fast because the ass just feels so fucking good, slowing down is impossible; the load demands to be put in the ass of this Adonis. It builds the balls and cockhead grow heavy and full, and when it shoots, there is recoil like firing a shotgun. Pulling out, the ass gives up the cock and it pops out, this will be a fuck to be remembered and replayed. The coach seems pleased. He rubs the boys ass vigorous, and than smacks it hard, leaving a pink mark. The boy flinches, but otherwise does not react. A black man is selected next. Not a hot black man, an older man in his late fifties. In pretty good shape for his age, but still in his late fifties. His cock was pink and purple, almost no difference in girth between the head and the shaft, like a cucumber. He slid it into the boy's pink hole and the boy uttered an almost inaudible grunt/gasp as he entered. The black man slides his cock all the way in, groaning as he pressed. The black man seems to have more trouble and keeps adjusting the boy's angle, pausing in his fuck-motions, moving the boy's ass higher, then struggling to regain his rhythm. He makes some thrusts then has to adjust again. "Hold up your ass, bitch," the coach orders. The boy arches his back. The black man grunts hard and quickly finishes up. Coach dabs his boy's ass with a towel and looks out to choose the next. He smiles like a demon, "You." The coup de grace is a tall, lean, dark young man with black hair, coppery skin, and a biohazard tattoo on his thigh. He runs his brown fingers on the round muscular ass of the boy on the fuck bench; no one can resist touching that ass. He spares a quick glance at the coach, as though asking permission. "Fuck him!" the coach orders. "Good and hard. Make sure he takes your load and don't wate a drop." The kid with the biohazard tat drops his towel and reveals a long, rigid and uncut cock with atight foreskin that almost covers the whole of the head, and drools with precum. He positions its hooded bullethead against the hole and thrusts it in with one fast smooth movement. "Shit," the brown-skinned youth says, feeling the warm grip of the boy's warm, tight tunnel around his cock. With no warm-up, he goes straight to ramming his long dark cock in-and-out, fucking the boy hard and deep, his hips becomeing a blur, his tight balls smacking at the cleft in the boy's cheeks. Concentrating, biting his lower lip, he piston-whips his nine-incher in and out of the whole. "Fuck," says the coach, observing the action with wide-eyed pleasure. He begins stroking his own uncut, beer-can cock while he watches his star player get violated well and good. For the first time, the boy shows a glimmer of awareness. the length of the cock must be too much for him, must be spearing through his sphincter and assaulting his prostate. Maybe he is subconsciously aware of the poisonous load about to be shot into him, the virus about to take over his perfect body and begin tearing it apart from the inside. Tied down, there's nothing he can do, he's at the mercy of the brown cock. It must be hurting him, his eyes, which have kept closed this whole time, become most with the tears he is holding back. Suddenly, the biohazard kid grunts and makes a final deep thrust into the boy's ass. He shudders as he cums, eyes tight shut and mouth open. "Fuck,' he says as his seed shoots into deep into the young athlete's guts. "Oh, fuck yeah," says the coach. The lean, brown boy with the biohazard tat leaves, avoiding eye contact or even looking at the coach, who moves in behind the boy and guides his big fat cock to the boy's fuckhole, pushing it in and pumping it inside to churn the loads and strains deposited in the warm, fertile receptacle of the boy's fucktube. After a few minutes, coach pulls out again and permits another entry into the room, a scruffy looking, thin and hairy thirty-something whose piercings glint in the dim light. The new man bares his cock and takes his place behind the boy. It is still early in the morning, and the boy is only four loads in, and the line outside is long.

I just bought one; curious to see if the novelty of it will lead to more hookups.

Had a great hook up the other night with a heavier young southern dude. Great ass, small dick but a hell of a shooter, as in over my head while I was plowing him and he jacked himself.

Stealth Bomber is like the superhero of pozzing. I expect Stan Lee to make a cameo in the next installment.

I think most of what is said on this site is fantasy and/or bullshit, but it's hot and frequently gives me boners. In real life, I've actually gotten more cautious because of all the guys who brag about stealthing on this site.

After church, met up with an A4A contact. His ad said he didn't smoke, but there was a distinct whiff of nicotine about him. (ecigs maybe?). Anyway, middle thirties, buzzcut blond with a small dick but a warm, tight ass. I did the slow-fuck with him, because that's what felt right, and blew a nice 3day load that leaked out afterward. He had a goodtime, so this could be a regular thing.

Sometimes I fuck guys I'm not into; I figure it's Karma and it will come back to me.