Meeting our elderly neighbors Bob and Ann should have been a small blip in my life. It had been a few weeks since the block party when white-haired Bob had invited me to tour his garage, and ended up showing me a bisexual porno from his stash. Somehow I had ended up on my knees in his garage, swallowing his cock.
Actually, I didn’t just swallow it. I had worshipped it. I knelt there and gazed at his 5 inches topped by a purple plum tip and couldn’t stop from inhaling his aroma. That is what freaked me out, my compulsion to keep smelling it, running the tip under my nose and inhaling his musky crotch and balls, and insisting he put his cock all the way in till it hit the back of my throat.
To make things worse, he had brought me to a powerful orgasm by French kissing me while playing with my cock and butthole. I kept telling myself I wasn’t gay, so how had that happened? How had I succumbed to an almost 70-year-old grandpa? I was happily married to a fit, attractive wife. I had let myself go a little, with some paunch, but overall I was active. In our lates 40s we led a typical life.
Perhaps the utter shock of the liaison explained why I had barely interacted with Bob, hardly a wave for a couple of weeks. Even now on a Saturday as I stepped out for my weekly 4 mile walk through the neighborhood I was determined to casually ignore Bob working in his yard.
Intellectually there was no explanation for how I chose to sexually service this grandparent down the street. Seeing him in ball cap, white hair, trademark sweatshirt and jeans and those old man white tennis shoes made me shake my head in disbelief as I put in my headphones in for the walk. My wife was also out, and our teens were at their jobs or out with friends. It was a lazy day, so lazy in fact that I hadn’t noticed I was slowing my pace and stopping as I got near his house.
With music blaring I couldn’t hear him but I could see he had greeted me, leaning on his rake. Behind him I noticed the garage door was open and I could see the couch, workbench and TV from the “tour” he gave me during the block party. I pulled out my headphones. “Hey Bob,” I said curtly. I told myself I was in no mood for a repeat.
He invited me to have a beer. The mention of beer brought back the memory of tasting beer on his tongue as we kissed. I kept telling myself to keep walking, the last thing I needed was to spring an erection right here. I started walking, but my feet had a mind of their own, taking me toward the garage, and we both entered.
He got beers out of his fridge for us. Taking the beer, he gestured for me to take a seat on the couch. Relaxing and gazing around his garage I noticed some odd tools on the bench. They looked like a set of metal files and had interchangeable red grips of varying sizes. Bob was a tool hound and I paid no attention.
“Mind if I close the door?” He winked and moved to the garage door button. I just nodded my head and didn’t speak. My throat was tight and my stomach fluttered. What was the spell this man had on me?
The door closed ominously and I heard another click. He had locked the door to the house. “Looks like we will have some more time to get acquainted.” He added, “I guess you are here to get another chance at Old Bob. I wasn’t expecting this, so, hold on, I keep a supply here.” He stepped to a wall unit of small storage drawers where he kept washers, bolts and nails. He opened one of the drawers and took out a pill case and popped a couple of small pills. “A man’s best friend!” He said, extending his open hand to me, “Here, try a couple.”
Any sensible person would have refused. I wasn’t acting sensibly, was again on auto pilot around this man. I took the small blue pills and swished them down with beer.
I sat on the leather couch and he offered to play a movie again. “Those pills will take a little while. How about a movie.” His cheesy grin still annoyed me. I was in a daze. My words came out haltingly. “Sure, if you would like to.”
He put in a tape and moved to the side but kept standing, which seemed odd, maybe he could watch both me and the porn.
The porn started and it was another vintage tape. I found myself hoping it would feature men with beautiful cocks. A voice in my head said snap out of it, but it was pushed to the back as I watched a coach and his players in a locker room getting changed and walking around in jockstraps. The logical voice in my head was replaced by a voice wanting to bury my nose in those jocks. I imagined the smell and texture against my face.
Before the porn had really got going I already imagined my own split-second visions of strong men holding me face up on a locker bench while the coach sat on my face. In disbelief my brain pulled up an image of my old high school gym teacher, when I was an assistant for after school swim classes. What was Mr. Royce doing in my fantasy? I was unsettled and suddenly questioning my life long sexual identity.
As I watched the movie I noticed Bob to the side, unbuckling his trousers, stepping out of his shoes. Dropping his pants. On the video a silver-haired coach entered and snapped a towel at younger men’s behinds, telling them to hit the showers.
When I looked back Bob was taking off his shirt. He stood there, naked except for his white briefs. While he might have been moderately handsome back in his day, there was no reason to find him attractive now.
My eyes were drawn to his briefs, the old fashioned “tighty-whiteys” kind with an opening in the front. His veiny cock with that plum-shaped tip stuck out through the gap and pointed at me. I stared. I almost didn’t blink as his cock pointed at me. I longed for that tip.
I looked back at the porn, filled with those vintage younger dudes with their big cocks and dangling balls. They were in the gym shower now, one leaning against the wall while the other ate his ass and cock from behind. My cock leaked cum from my tip. I wanted the older coach to find the students in the shower.
I looked back at Bob’s cock, then up at him. “Let’s get you undressed,” he said, offering me a hand and assisting me to stand. I was glad I had a beer. At this point I wished I had a shot of whiskey since I sensed what lay in store. Bob was always in control, a natural alpha.
He stepped close to me and cupped my erect cock through my shorts. I didn’t need a pill, and wondered what effect it would have on me. Already I felt a slight headache that seemed to be from the pill. I wondered if my erection would last for hours. He leaned in and we kissed. I kicked off my shoes and slipped out of my socks. For some reason being barefoot naked with him was an added thrill. He tugged my shorts down over my ass and my cock flopped out. We paused as I kicked them off and then he started kissing me again. We paused as he pulled my shirt over my head, always going back to kissing me in between. He was a skilled lover. He took his time and made me feel desirable in a way I had never known. In my mind I was the student, and he was the coach. He looked at me with a lust that fired my balls, and, to my surprise, had me thinking of leaning against a shower wall, presenting my broad white butt and dangling balls for him to eat.
Now I was totally naked, while he stood in his briefs. He had me sit on the couch and spread my knees apart. The couch was cold against my naked skin and accentuated my vulnerability. He stepped in between my spread legs to get his cock close to my mouth as he stood.
I couldn’t explain it. I wasn’t attracted to him when I saw him on the street. But here, with his beautiful cock so close I wanted to just stay there, inhaling his crotch. Something about his briefs had my cock leaking precum again.
He took his hand and fondled his own penis. He squeezed the tip, milking a drop of cum out. Without a thought I licked it, savoring the taste. Inhaling, rubbing my nose on his tip, was paradise. I kept lightly kissing and swirling the tip of his cock, paying attention to the pee slit, while I rubbed up his legs, my hands slipping under his briefs and fondling his balls.
Last time he had demanded no hands, but he let me use my hands to explore his nuts. I tested my limits and pulled his elastic out and gently freed his cock from his briefs. My hands slid the briefs down. I wanted to hold on to them, to bring them to my face. I set them on the couch. Maybe later. He was naked. I was naked. My face nuzzled his crotch with his white bush, the soft warm skin of his cock on my cheek and then dragging it back across my face to my nose and lips. I was panting like a dog in heat and lifted his balls to my nose. His cold sweaty balls oozed testosterone and I moved to the floor to get my face under his sack. His balls rested on my forehead. Again the image of a coach sitting on my face flitted through my mind.
“Not yet,” he directed. He stood me up and had me turn around and kneel on the couch. My ass was now out and facing him. I could feel the cool air against the slight sweat of my crack. I felt so exposed, so turned on.
I took his briefs and used them as a pillow. My head rested on the back of the couch and I kept my nose buried in his underwear. I imagined what I must look like. Middle-aged man arching his ass for this senior citizen, sniffing his shorts . “Hands back,” he barely had to say as my hands were already moving, my head bracing me against the couch. This time instead of my back, he told me to grip my butt cheeks. I groaned. “Spread them. Show Bob your pussy.”
The porn continued, and I could hear slapping, like the sound of balls hitting a butt repeatedly. That was me. My ass was next. I held my cheeks open, wanting him to like me, wanting him to lust after my butthole. Was this how women felt? I wanted that sense of accomplishment for driving my man wild.
“That’s a nice pussy. Just a little fur. We will need to get you ready.” Bob assessed my ass and I felt his warm breath hovering right at my hole. My cock jutted out, the pill bringing an erection so strong it almost hurt.
With gentle hands Bob cupped my balls. His face found my sphincter and his tongue circled and probed. He slathered my ass. I could feel the wetness. He dropped his tongue to my balls, causing his nose to press into my anus. He breathed into my ass and released his face to tell me, “That’s nice soap. Keep using it for me.”
Would I actually soap my ass for him? This bizarre world continued to conflict my emotions. Of course I would. If he asked me I would shave, or use my wife’s Nair to make my ass soft and naked. I wanted him to like my ass.
He continued to eat my ass and slide his tongue down to my balls. His hand reached and pulled my erection backwards—it was exhilarating to feel it get so hard, pointing back between my thighs. He slurped it hungrily. “Hmmmmmff,” he moaned, licking up to my puckered hole and then down my tip, “Your clit is leaking.”
I felt his fingers massage around my anus, I could feel the folds of pucker relax under his touch. He pressed his mouth to my hole and I felt spit dribble. More fingers. More massaging. Two fingers entered, opening me further, and I felt so full, and some twinges of pain, but these were flooded away by his tongue and hands pleasuring me.
He withdrew his face and stood behind me. I heard him get something from one of the drawers where he had the pills, then some cool cream was applied to butthole, like Vaseline. I heard him spit and I craned my head to see him swabbing his plum head with spit. He spit more on my crack, then I felt pressure on my hole. His plum was pushing into my ass, opening me. Slowly he moved his cock and only a little at a time. Back and forth, easing open my hole like a practiced lover. I felt so full! There was a mix of pain and overwhelming fullness, and it felt so sexy at the same time. I was sure that my cock had drenched the couch from leaking cum.
His hands took hold of my wrists and folded them on my back. He used these as a handle and gently started rocking a little deeper, once too deep and I yelped and he backed off. I felt a sense of accomplishment I couldn’t describe. “That’s a nice pussy. We will get it trained for more. You know I used to want a bigger cock. Now my 5 inches is plenty for most of the virgin buttholes I get to plow.” Bob bragged as he plowed me open. I wondered about the word “most.” How many men had he fucked right here like this?
He increased his tempo and I felt like I had to piss, my cock had softened at entry but the pill had it rock hard again and I could feel it flapping as he began to pump my big soft butt. His dirty talk increased, “You like that cock,” he grunted, and I moaned in return. “Tell me.” He ordered. “I love your cock. I love your grandpa cock in my virgin butthole, please, uh, please fuck me.” My words had their effect—he gripped my hips and shoved deeply. I knew he was breeding my asshole as he spasmed and shook behind me. I knew his cum would soon be leaking from my used hole.
“Oh that is a very good start,” Bob enthused. “One of the keys to a happy marriage is to get a replacement if your wife won’t take it up the ass.” Bob was always offering his views on life and marriage, and, he kept talking like these episodes together would continue. I had to admit I wanted that too.
As he cleaned up his cock he apologized that I’d have to finish myself later. My cock wasn’t as stiff due to his pounding of my rectum, but my cock still throbbed. I figured I could easily finish at home and would have plenty of mental material.
He gave me those red handled files. “Take these,” he said after we were dressed, you can use those handles to keep yourself stretched and ready. Just put a condom over them and you can hide your butt plugs in plain site.” He seemed to know about training a virgin ass and I wondered who else in the neighborhood he had deflowered. As I took the file set home I looked over the red handles and felt my cock ready. I couldn’t wait to cum with one of these up my ass.
I should have been a little more discreet. Someone was watching me carry those red handled files home, and I would soon hear about it.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jeaffe/old_bob_again_mm_age_gap_long_smell_fetish