[Breeder] The Hole, Part 2

[TheBreeder]

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Since they’d moved closer to the middle of the state, I’d kept in touch with Jake and David in kind of a half-assed way. Jake was usually the one who’d contact me on one of the online hookup sites. Remember when you used to come over and stick that huge dick of yours through the hole? he would say. The question would lead to an exchange of good memories for a few emails. I’d say he should give me a call if he got down this way. He’d say that yeah, that sounded like a good idea. Then I’d hear nothing more from him until a few months later when we’d do it all over again.

David still worked in the area. A couple of years ago when he’d looked over my profile a few times , I’d sent him a note saying that I missed unloading in his holes. He’d taken my phone number then, and agreed that he should give me a call and stop off at my place on the way home from work some evening. Nothing ever came of it.

I was surprised to see him again on Thursday of last week, sneaking another peek at my profile. Fully expecting absolutely nothing to come of it, I sent him a greeting and reminded him that my offer for him to stop by after work sometime was open-ended and that he should take it up sometime. I gave him my phone number once again, fairly certain nothing would come of it. That’s why I was pleasantly surprised the very next day, Friday afternoon, to get a text from him that read, I’m leaving work early and hoping that you’ll let me stop by and visit.

You’re more than welcome, I told him. It’s been way too long since I fucked your ass. About eight years too long, in fact.

I hope I can measure up, he said. It’s been a while.

When I opened the front door to him a half-hour later, he stepped in, kicked off his shoes, and immediately grabbed the back of my head to pull my lips to his. We kissed long and hard. “I didn’t think I’d do that again!” he finally said with a big grin, once we separated.

“Again?” I asked. He looked blank. “We’ve never done it before. We’ve never kissed. We’ve never seen each other except in photographs.” I watched realization cross his face as that information sunk in. “I know your holes, but I’ve never seen you like this before.”

David wasn’t a kid anymore. He was thirty and rumpled from work. But he was boyishly cute and so attractive that I didn’t care he wasn’t the same slim-waisted twink I’d only known from the other side of the hole. “Weird,” he said, as I gestured he should follow me to the bedroom. “‘Cause it feels like I’ve known you for-fuckin’-ever.”

He had a point. David didn’t feel like a stranger. We didn’t interact like strangers, but as friends who hadn’t seen each other for a good long while. Like old casual lovers, in fact. A few square inches of my skin had known two parts his body; he’d seen and tasted and touched only eight erect inches of mine. Strange that with such mathematical limitations, we could have made such a strong connection through a small hole in the back of a coat closet.

I rested on the bed while he showered. He came into the bedroom a few minutes later, moisture clinging to his smooth, pale skin. He parted my legs and crawled between them until his mouth rested on the mound of flesh bulging through my jeans. I could feel the heat of his breath through the layers of denim and jersey. “Get undressed,” he said.

I didn’t object.

It felt as if I recognized his mouth the moment he engulfed my inches between his lips. My dick certainly responded to it, growing thick and hard and dripping precum into the back of his throat. Whenever I’d spurt another thick load of the stuff, he’d pause to pull me out of his mouth and suck the nectar from the tip, then go right back to what he was doing.

I had to stop him before he pushed me over the edge of pleasure and into the abyss of the too-sensitive tip, which is often the problem I have with blow jobs. While we made out, I moved him up to the head of the bed and pulled apart his legs so that his ass was open and exposed. My beard made crazy circles down his back, around the base of his spine, across and over his ample ass. Then I dug the tip of my tongue into his hole.

He cried out. He didn’t whimper or moan. He let out a sharp, animal cry, as if he was in pain. When I buried my face in more deeply, he tried to struggle to an upright position on his knees. I pushed him back down, and forced him to remain open to me. I ate and chewed his hole like a hungry animal, pushing him down and keeping him from trying to escape. From time to time he would protest, or put his hand to my head to try to push me away, but after several minutes the protests grew weaker and his hands would only rest atop my head and remain there, helpless and weak. He’d surrendered himself to the pleasure I’d given him.

When I finally raised myself up, he had tears in his eyes. In fact, he looked as if he might start to cry outright. “Baby!” I whispered to him. “How long has it been since anyone was good to you like that?”

He shook his head and bit his lip. I had been thrusting the underside of my dick against his hole. I spat on my fingers and lubed up the tip and began to tickle his hole with it. “Too long!” he finally admitted.

“How long?”

“Since I was rimmed or fucked?”

“Rimmed,” I wanted to know. My cock head pulsed at the entrance to his ass. I moved back and forth very gently, simulating intercourse. “I can tell you are a man who hasn’t been rimmed for a very long time.”

He found it difficult to enjoy the sensations of me pushing against his hole and to talk at the same time. “Maybe about two years?”

“Damn,” I said. I continued to glide back and forth while I ran my hands over his butt and his back. “And how long has it been since you were fucked?”

“About the same,” he admitted in a small voice. “I don’t know—”

I knew what he was going to tell me. I’d known from the moment he’d sent me that text message, confessing to worry about measuring up. It had only been confirmed when he had been too grateful for the attention to his hole. He was going to spill that he feared he wouldn’t be able to take me, that he was having performance anxiety. He wanted assurance. He wanted to know I wouldn’t hurt him. “Ssshh,” I said in my softest voice. I was supporting myself my fists, which were positioned on either side of his rib cage. I rested atop him, but wasn’t putting much weight on his torso. Mostly I continued to grind at his hole. “We’ll go slow,” I whispered. “It doesn’t matter how deep I get in, today. It doesn’t matter if I get in. What matter is that you feel good. Okay?”

He let out a rush of air that was half laugh, half sigh of relief. “Okay,” he said.

“Yeah?” I wanted more confirmation.

“Yeah.” He opened his eyes then and looked back over his shoulder at me. They were full of trust. “You can start if you want.”

I looked down at where his ass and my cock connected. While we’d been talking, I’d used his increasing relaxation and the pressure of my hips to open and enter him. He hadn’t even noticed. “Baby, I’m already half-way in.”

Almost immediately he clamped down. I’ve always maintained that three-quarters of a fuck is mental. David hadn’t even noticed how deeply I’d gotten into him while we’d talked. It was only when he realized what I’d done that he’d begun to panic.

“Ssshh,” I told him. “It’s all right. You were enjoying it, weren’t you?” He jerked his head up and down. I could hear a small cry of fear at the back of his throat. “Then relax. Let me in the rest of the way. Relax.”

Bit by bit, little by little, the rest of my cock slid deep into him. I held it there, not moving, while he clenched his fingers around mine. “Just stay still,” he begged. “Stay . . . still?” My lips and beard nuzzled at his ear while he struggled to accommodate me. Within a moment, though his lips were grinding experimentally, seeing if they could stand the motion. I felt his ass part and grab at my meat. Then he began to breath more normally and deeply, and I knew it was safe to continue.

Our fuck didn’t last long. I pulled back his head and kissed David deeply as I fucked. It was the first time I’d ever held him in my arms as I screwed him—the first time I’d ever seen more than a flat expanse of white drywall while I plundered his hole. We graduated from barely moving to grinding and sliding to outright slamming. By the time I started to clench my butt cheeks and pound my load into him, he was on his knees and clutching the top of the headboard as if afraid to let go. “Breed me,” he said. “I’ve missed your cum. I want your cum. I want you to seed me, daddy.”

I’d scarcely unloaded in him when he bucked me back onto my haunches, so that I squatted on the bed on my knees. He straddled me in an impossible yoga-like position, facing away as he continued to ride my dick. Squirts of my semen dripped from his hole onto my balls and blanket. “Oh god,” he said. “Oh god. Oh god.” Then he came, shooting his load over my bed in thick, painterly squirts that glazed the pillow.

I held him as he shot, and after he subsided into heavy breathing and laughter. When he raised himself up and off my dick, I knew what he was going to say before he said it. “I don’t think I can go another round. It’s been way too long.”

“It’s okay, baby,” I told him with a kiss. “I know.”

Besides, I thought to myself. Maybe there’d be more practice for the kid in the future.

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