I’m not going to give away where exactly this happened. Small town Italy, the guy probably is closeted and flying as far under the radar as possible. Just picture a hot sunny summer day, a sleepy little small town square, and me – hungry and thirsty from a long, tough morning of cycling the hilly countryside – settling down at an outdoor table of a sidewalk café for lunch – a café which is more than half empty.
The server soon set me up with some food, a glass of wine, and a big bottle of water. I was halfway done with my meal when something happened that made my neck swivel very quickly. That’s when this Italian wet dream man walked slowly right past my table into the indoor bar area.
Classic Italian good looks – olive skin, curly black hair, lean hard body, clearly visible through a skin-tight t-shirt and a pair of hip-hugging pants that looked painted on. The bulge was enticing, the butt downright tempting. My dick twitched in my cycle shorts and started to grow with just that one glance. But first things first, I was still thirsty and hungry. And anyway, he didn’t reappear after he slipped inside. Probably busy knocking back a drink and flirting with the girl who had waited on me.
I finished eating, and as I was sipping the last of the water, he appeared again at the far door and lit a cigarette. As he took his first puff, his eyes locked with mine. To anyone else watching, it might have appeared innocent, but there was no way I could mistake the gesture as he slid his hand down and adjusted himself in his tight pants. I waited about 30 seconds, and then oh-so-casually got up and sauntered inside to find the toilet.
Inside the tiny men’s room, I peeled down my bike shorts and pulled out my growing dick. A bit difficult to piss with what I had in mind, but I managed to get the stream going all right. Then the door opened, and he was standing right beside me, pulling his meat out and looking down at mine as he began to piss. I waited no longer. I put my hand on his butt and gave it a squeeze. He smiled at me and licked his lips. After we both finished pissing, he grabbed my hand and wrote an address on it – then left the men’s room quickly. I adjusted myself as best I could, went out to pay my bill, and then grabbed my phone and looked him up. Just 2 blocks away, and I hopped on my bike and shot over there – coming around the corner just as he reached the door and turned to see me rolling up.
He was waiting to let me into the old building, and to lead me up the stairs to his apartment on the second floor up. All the way I was feasting my eyes on that beautiful ass that I was about to make my own.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind us, he pushed right up against me and ground his crotch against mine as he mashed his mouth onto my face and thrust his tongue between my lips. Man, this Italian guy was hot as a firecracker and really ready to take me on! I reached around, grabbed his ass and began kneading it through his tight pants. I could actually feel his dick getting bigger and harder against mine with each beat of his pulse.
He dropped to his knees and forced his face into the bulge in my shorts. He soon had my dick leaking a steady stream of precum, my juice soaking into the material of my shorts. But it was time for me to get a taste of him. I reached under his armpits and pulled him up again. In no time, I had his t-shirt off and his pants undone, and then bent him over and forced my face into his tight butt crack, my tongue probing for his hole. The musky scent from deep inside his ass made my cock jump again and again.
I tore myself away from him, peeled my cycling jersey up and over my head, and my bib shorts down to the floor so I could kick them off. Then back into his crack I dove. I pushed him down onto the sofa on all fours and really went to town on his tight hole, until I had him moaning and squealing with each thrust of my tongue. Then, my favourite moment: the moment when a good bottom’s hole suddenly relaxes and blooms, ready for my big tool to fix whatever’s wrong inside there. I stood up, spit on his hole once and my hand twice, stroked my cock with it, and then nudged the bare tip against his tight ass and began to lean on him.
He dropped right down onto his belly and lifted his ass into the air, all in one second, and the head of my hard cock popped inside his hole like magic. He moaned even louder and began trying to back up onto me. I leaned; he pushed. In next to no time, I felt my low-hanging balls come to rest against his taint, and knew I was all the way into him – 8½ inches of all the way.
I’d love to tell you all about how I ravaged his ass for three hours and dumped sixteen loads inside him, but that would be stretching the truth even more than my big meat was stretching his hole. This guy was so tight that it felt like I had taken his cherry, but his talented stroking of my cock with his muscles made it plain that he had been there more than a few times and knew just how to make a top feel good.
It took me only seconds to work up from the first slow in-and-out motions to the point where I was pounding his hole furiously, my balls slapping hard against him, and his loud moaning and inarticulate cries were driving me at top speed towards the finish line. All at once, I felt the regular rhythm of his ass muscles deteriorate into uncontrolled spasms – which quickly yanked my load up out of my balls and sent it rocketing into his colon, at the same time as his sperm spurted out all over his sofa.
I was nowhere near finished, and neither was he. I lay flat on top of him as my breathing returned to normal, but his ass went right back to milking me and kept my dick rock-hard in his hole. Before long, I started slowly pumping again and his moans and sighs of satisfaction said it all, from his point of view.
Having come once, fast, I was now ready for a longer session. I stroked him deep and shallow, going from teasing his ring with the head to plumbing the depths with the whole shaft. I fucked fast; I fucked slow. I took him through all the basic positions, and a few extras that didn’t get into many of the sex manuals. From time to time, I shot some more spit onto my dick to keep the fun going.
After about half an hour of this second fuck, he began panting and I knew he was close to coming. So I rolled him onto his back, picked up the speed, concentrated on the warm feel of my own seed around my cockhead inside his slick channel, and in just a few more seconds I was ready to shoot. I started to warn him, and got as far as shouting, “Oh, fuck! I’m gonna…” when his cock lifted off his belly and machine-gunned his face and chest with shot after shot of his mancream. That sight set me off (it always does) and I blasted a second load of my fuckjuices deep into his guts.
We lay there kissing and cuddling for another half hour or so, and then I got up, dressed and left. We did exchange phone numbers and names, but I honestly never expected to see Franco again.
Fast forward two weeks. End of my holiday, I went for a few days of R & R at Sitges before heading home to get back to the grind. The day I arrived, I was lying out on the beach, grabbing some rays, when I felt a shadow fall across me. I opened my eyes and looked up. The long, lean body of the guy looking down at me was familiar, the tiny, tight speedo grabbing my attention at first. Then I took a second look and recognized Franco. I pulled off my mirrored shades and watched as his face lit up.
Ten minutes later we were back in my room, his speedo was on the floor, mine was already wet with precum, and my face was buried deep in that tempting ass again.
My R & R turned out to be not so restful or relaxing after all. We spent the next 4 days together, most of it “together.” That’s when I planted the other 14 loads far up inside his tight, hot fuckhole – not to mention several more loads of sperm that I pumped into his mouth and down his throat.
