The next Saturday rolled around faster than I expected. Gene’s texts had been relentless all week, teasing photos of the fucking machine box sitting unopened in his living room, close-ups of the attachments he’d ordered (a thick, veined realistic dildo, a ridged one for extra texture, even a curved prostate hitter), and messages like: “Can’t wait to strap you down and let it pound you while I watch… or while I fuck your mouth at the same time.” He kept circling back to his friend, too: “His name’s Ray. 82, widowed, still hard as steel when he’s turned on. Loves a tight hole that can take a pounding. No reciprocation needed, he just wants to slide in and unload. You game? Thought we’d surprise you.”
I arrived at his condo mid-morning, heart pounding with anticipation. Gene opened the door in nothing but loose boxers, the machine already set up in the bedroom like some mechanical altar. It was a sturdy black metal frame on a stable base, with an adjustable arm, speed dial (from teasingly slow to relentless jackhammer), depth control, and a 3XLR connector for quick attachment swaps. The box of dildos sat nearby, silicone cocks in various girths and lengths, all glistening with fresh lube in anticipation.
We barely made it inside before Gene had me stripped and on my knees. “First things first, warm-up,” he said, pulling his cock out. I worshipped him slow and deep, throat open, balls in my hand, while he described what was coming: “Ray’s on his way in an hour. He’s excited, said he hasn’t had an eager ass in years. You’re gonna take us both, then the machine’s gonna finish what we start.” His words made me leak; I swallowed his first load while he groaned about how perfect my mouth felt.
Gene led me to the bedroom, had me get on all fours on the bed with my ass presented. He lubed me generously, fingered me open with three fingers, then slid in raw, deep, possessive strokes that had me moaning into the pillow. He fucked me steady for a good fifteen minutes, building me up without letting me cum, then pulled out just as the doorbell rang.
Ray was exactly as advertised: tall, lean, silver-haired, with kind eyes and a quiet confidence. He shook my hand like we were meeting for coffee, then stripped without ceremony. His cock was impressive for 82, thick, uncut, already half-hard and veined. “Gene’s told me all about you,” he said with a small smile. “Said you’re the best mouth and hole he’s had in decades. Mind if I watch first?”
Gene positioned me on my back, legs up, and re-entered me missionary-style while Ray stroked himself nearby. The sight of an older man watching turned me on even more; I clenched around Gene, milking him until he came deep inside me with a low grunt. Ray stepped up immediately, no hesitation. He lubed up, pressed the thick head against my cum-slick hole, and pushed in slow. The stretch was delicious; he wasn’t as long as Gene but thicker, and he fucked with deliberate, powerful thrusts that hit my prostate every time. “Tight… so fucking tight,” he muttered, hands on my hips. Gene knelt by my head, feeding me his softening cock to clean while Ray pounded away. When Ray came it was explosive, deep grinds, hot spurts filling me further, his body shaking as he emptied everything he had.
We took a short breather, water, towels, more lube, then the real fun began. Gene had me lie face-down on the bed, ass at the edge, legs spread. He adjusted the machine: attached the thickest realistic dildo (about 8 inches long, girthy, veined), set the depth to hit just past my prostate, speed on medium. He strapped my wrists loosely to the headboard for stability (consensual, easy to release), then guided the dildo to my entrance. “Relax, baby,” he whispered, easing it in on the first slow thrust. The machine took over, mechanical, relentless, no fatigue. It started with long, deep strokes, then Gene cranked the speed. I moaned uncontrollably as it pounded me, the dildo dragging over every sensitive spot, my cock dripping steadily onto the sheets.
Gene and Ray watched, stroking themselves back to hardness. Gene swapped the attachment to a ridged one for extra texture, bumpy, intense friction that had me begging. Ray took my mouth while the machine fucked me senseless; I sucked him sloppy, throat open, while the mechanical thrusts drove me wild. Gene edged me with his hand, not letting me cum yet. After what felt like forever (but was probably 20 minutes), they pulled the machine back, Gene slid in beside it briefly for that insane double stretch, then let Ray take another turn, fucking me hard while the machine’s dildo teased my hole from the side.
The finale: me on my back again, machine reattached with the curved prostate attachment buzzing at high speed. Gene straddled my chest, feeding me his cock; Ray knelt between my legs, sliding in alongside the machine’s shallow thrusts. The overload, mouth full, ass double-penetrated by cock and silicone,pushed me over. I came hands-free, shooting ropes across my stomach while my hole spasmed around everything inside me. Gene came down my throat; Ray pulled out and added his second load to the mess dripping from me.
We collapsed in a heap, sweaty, spent, laughing softly. Ray kissed my forehead before he left, murmuring, “Thanks, kid. You’re something special. Hope to see you again.” Gene unstrapped me, cleaned us up gently, then spooned behind me as the sun set.
The sun had barely set when Gene’s arm tightened around me, his breath warm against my neck. “Stay tonight,” he murmured, cock still half-hard and nestled against my leaking hole. “Ray’s gone, but we’re not done. Machine’s got plenty left in it, and I’ve got ideas for tomorrow.” I nodded, too blissed-out and sore to argue. We dozed like that, spooned, sticky, his cum slowly seeping out around my puffy rim, until morning light crept in again.
Sunday dawned lazy and golden. Gene woke first, grinding slow against me until I was hard and ready. No words needed; he rolled me onto my stomach, spread my cheeks, and licked me clean, tongue delving deep into the messy hole Ray and he had filled the day before. The taste of their combined loads must have turned him on because he was rock-hard in seconds. He slid in easy, no lube required, and fucked me prone-bone style: deep, grinding strokes that mashed my prostate while his weight pinned me to the mattress. I came quick, untouched, spilling into the sheets; he followed soon after, adding a fresh morning load to the mix.
Breakfast was quick, coffee, toast, his hand idly fingering my slick hole under the table. Then back to the bedroom. The machine waited, attachments scattered like toys in a sandbox. Gene had me on my knees first, head hanging off the bed edge for throat-fucking while he prepped the next setup. He chose the ridged dildo again, bumpy texture for maximum friction, and adjusted the machine for longer, slower thrusts. “Gonna let it build you up slow this time,” he said, strapping me face-down, ass elevated on pillows, wrists secured loosely again.
The machine started at a teasing pace: deep penetration that dragged those ridges over every nerve, prostate getting pummeled on the in-stroke. Gene knelt in front, feeding me his cock in lazy thrusts, matching the machine’s rhythm. My moans vibrated around him; pre-cum leaked steadily from my tip. He cranked the speed gradually, medium, then high, until the mechanical pounding had me shaking, babbling around his shaft. “That’s it, take it like the slut you are,” he growled. I came hard, ass clenching rhythmically around the thrusting dildo, milking it like it was real. Gene pulled out and shot across my face, thick ropes landing on my cheeks and lips.
We cleaned up minimally, wipedowns, fresh lube, then switched attachments. He picked the curved prostate hitter: angled head designed to hook right on the P-spot, with a slight vibration option he’d added (small bullet vibe taped to the base). Position change: me on my back, legs in stirrups he’d improvised with pillows and ties, hole presented perfectly. The machine eased in, curved tip pressing firmly against my prostate from the first thrust. Gene set it to shallow, rapid strokes, relentless tapping that built pressure fast. He straddled my chest again, cock in my mouth, while his fingers pinched my nipples. The combo was brutal in the best way: prostate milked dry, throat full, body pinned. I came again, prostate orgasm this time, no cock stimulation needed, waves rolling through me, cum dribbling out in weak spurts while my hole fluttered wildly.
Gene wasn’t done. He swapped to the thickest veined realistic one, girthy, lifelike, and set the depth maxed, speed jackhammer. “One more big one,” he said, eyes dark with lust. He had me ride it reverse: straddling the machine base, lowering onto the thrusting cock while he stood in front, fucking my mouth. The angle let the dildo hit deep, stretching me wide, balls-deep on every up-thrust. I ground down, riding the mechanical cock like it was alive, while Gene used my throat. When he came, I swallowed greedily; moments later the relentless pounding pushed me over again, hands-free, screaming around his spent cock as my ass spasmed and milked the silicone intruder.
By early afternoon we were wrecked, bodies slick, holes sore, balls empty. Gene turned the machine off, unstrapped me, and pulled me into the shower for slow, soapy touching: fingers in my gaping ass, gentle stroking, kisses under the water. We napped naked, his cock soft between my cheeks again, plugging the mess inside.
As evening approached and I finally dressed to leave, Gene kissed me deep at the door. “Ray texted, he wants in next weekend. Said bring the machine to his place if you’re up for it. Or we stay here, add another guy. Your call, Dick. But you’re mine first.”
I drove home throbbing, ass full and leaking, mind spinning with possibilities. The machine had ruined me in the best way, endless, tireless fucking that no human could match for duration. And with Gene orchestrating, older friends joining, attachments escalating… this was just the beginning.
