I plopped down in the BarcaLounger. I wasted no time texting Jean that my weekend was pretty much open. I had only two small jobs left on Donna’s to do list and she wasn’t getting back into town until Monday evening. Jean must have had her cell nearby, as she responded almost immediately and with no excess verbiage: Saturday, 4:30, casual dress, bring a bathing suit. I felt like I needed a shower. I had headed downtown to...

I was close to red-lining and if I didn’t fill Jean’s mouth with my hot jizz soon, I was going to blow a fuse. Jean was sucking my cock head and fist-pumping my shaft to beat the band, I was twisting and pulling my screaming nipples and Roy was running his passionate tongue around my lips. Thirty seconds before my impending blast, Roy removed his tongue from my mouth and transferred the tip to my left ear. This allowed me...

For a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, my surf and turf was prettier darn good. The ribeye was tender and just the way I prefer: medium rare and coated with coarsely ground black pepper. The half dozen shrimp were jumbo, deep fried in a light tempura batter. I’m not a big potato guy, but the rosemary seasoned wedges were a pleasant surprise. Toss in a creamy Brussels sprout slaw and this was a meal fit for a king. As you migh...

I’d gotten into a kind of rut: hitting the ABS on Fridays with the same old result. I’d buy five bucks of tokens, head back to the arcade and some sex-starved guy would suck my boner and balls through a glory hole. Yes, it allowed me to predictably blow a steamy load, but the predictability became almost boring. I could pretty much predict who would be my sucker. The early birds, those waiting in their cars for the store...

I fell back into the routine of visiting my local adult bookstore each Friday. Despite jerking off in the shower Saturday through Wednesday, I still had that unsettling full sensation in my privates come Friday. The reader might logically ask about Thursday. Yes, I still showered and fantasized about rimming my wife Donna’s beautiful ass and eating her tiny pink pussy; but I forced my soapy fist to avoid my wet, longing c...

We enjoyed a nice, albeit late dinner and a bottle of wine. After watching only two sitcoms, Donna announced she was tired and was going to bed. She gave me my second cheek peck of the day and headed back to the bedroom. Over the last decade, I had learned this early-to-bed routine was a signal that any intimacy was off the table. I caught up on the local news, then headed back. I brushed my teeth and stripped naked, befo...

I didn’t slam the hotel room door. Heck, I didn’t even say goodbye. Instead, I had eased out of the suite with my head down like a chastised dog. I now stood waiting for the elevator, wondering just what had I done. I had allowed myself to become some guy’s slut boy. I had sucked his cock, relishing his precum. I had allowed him to fuck me. No, I hadn’t allowed him; I had BEGGED him to fuck me deep and rough and breed me....

First, a little background. I was forty-five, married for twenty years, and increasingly frustrated from a sexual point of view. My great-looking wife progressively throttled back sex to the point it was mainly a chore on our anniversary, birthdays or after the rare occasion she’d had a couple drinks. I finally gave up just jerking off in the shower and visited an adult bookstore with an arcade. The theater area was a U s...