18 Year Old Male Sucks 53 Year Old Cock

Last night’s boy was a good catch with a serious potential. I first saw him standing apprehensively in my doorway. Wearing blue jeans, a sweater and tennis shoes, he was just your typical next door teenage boy. His hair was curly and reddish, and he had a narrow face with slightly protruded ears, giving him the ethereal aspect of an elf. He definitely didn’t look more than the 18 years old he claimed to be.

Although at 53 myself, I was almost three times his age. But he had been the one who had reached out to me online. Safely protected behind his screen, he had taunted me with obscene language, and had insisted so much that I finally accepted to give him an audition. I doubted he was ripe enough for to play against me though, even doubted he would show up at all. But I had misjudged him. There he was, on time, at 9.00 PM. It seemed he was indeed out to try the challenge. So I let him in.

He was staring at me with googly questioning eyes, like a rodent petrified in front of the headlights of a car. With his juvenile face and frightened glance, I assumed he was probably a virgin, although I could not be sure. Probably he had done some naughty play with his buddies in the locker rooms. But frank sex with a mature male, definitely not. I could tell he was intimidated by my sturdy body and conservative attire, and yet irresistibly attracted by the stark difference. By entering my den, he had already stepped out of time and space, away from the rules of the outside world.

The boy followed me inside the living room, bathing in the dim light of Chinese style lamps and the sound of classical music. He looked around the old fashioned furniture and the bookshelves, not knowing what to do, maybe thinking it was still time to escape. But I wouldn’t let him be distracted, asked him if he was ready and he nodded, although I could see the flush on his face and the gulp in his throat. It was useless to indulge in some comforting introductory talk. I didn’t want to know his name, and he didn’t need to know mine. I went straight to the point, and told him to take his clothes off.

While watching the boy strip, I sipped a glass of cognac. After taking out his shoes, he bashfully removed his sweater and the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath, unzipped and pulled down his jeans, his clothing items falling down on the floor one after the other. His skin was white and milky, and although he still looked somewhat frail and slender, I could tell he had good genes, and that his muscles would sculpt harmoniously given proper training. It was a matter of seconds before he was on his knees on the carpet, with nothing left than blue briefs which molded his private parts. He looked surprised when I told him to keep his white socks on, not knowing it was one of my fetishes.

Still fully clad in my business suit with my tie on, I was standing in front of the boy at a distance, and his almost naked body looked totally vulnerable in contrast. And that was what I needed it to be. I told him to put his hands on the top of his head, like a prisoner, revealing to me the silky hair in his armpits. Little could he suspect that to me, a boy’s armpit is like a preview of his crack and pubes. I felt a punch in my stomach and bells ringing in my head, and the bulge started to swell inside my pants. I could see the boy’s eyes were concentrated on my crotch, torn between lust and anxiety, anticipating the carnal ceremony about to take place.

As I moved closer to him, I could well see the fear in the boy’s eyes as soon as he looked back up at me. He was nervous and trembling, as a lamb brought to the altar of sacrifice. I could see his wide and sultry eyes were on the verge of tears, and I won’t lie : it made my mouth water. The sight of his tender flesh brought up a lupine ferocity in me, something close to the primal instinct of a beast catching his prey. He shuddered as I lay my big palms on his smooth skin. I could feel his heart was pounding hard, and his breath was fast and heavy. I ran my hands over his back and chest, taking my time to explore his precious offered body, the warm and wet cavities which I knew my penis would eventually visit.

But beyond the apprehension, I could sense the boy longed for for the approval of a father figure. I knew I wasn’t his father, even though the idea I was old enough to be made me both proud and hard. He would have yearned for me to stroke his hair or pat his shoulder, but I would not smile or give affection for the moment, only showing firm and determinate authority. I kept the stern look appropriate for serious matters. For this couldn’t be more serious indeed, as I was entitled with a strong responsibility.

My role was to be the boy’s mentor in sex between males, as it had been in the phallic rituals performed in the Antiquity or many tribes of the world when they were still close to nature. And nature commands that the senior partner dominates and penetrates, while the junior must yield in full confidence and acceptance of his position. By worshipping his senior’s penis, the junior is put in direct communication with phallic energy, spring of all life. However repetitive, this sacred ceremony is the path to mystical ecstasy. The puritanical modern faiths could never erase the potency of ancient cults.

The firm touch of my broad palms on his juvenile body made the boy realize that I was the master, and there was no debate. He still had his hands on his head in the prisoner position, as I had prescribed to show acknowledgement of his submission. All he had to do was to surrender to lust, to the dark forces of nature that pulsated in his hormones. There was no danger, just pleasure, a pleasure so intense that it can indeed confine to pain. I felt the tension inside his body giving up confidently, and he began to let go into my hands.

Every boy is sensitive on the nipples, although to various degrees. I pressed his little nubs to test how they would react, which caused him to utter a light squeal. Feeling I was on the right path, I made him drool in my cupped hands, ointed his nipples in his own spit, then twisted and teased them between my thumbs and forefingers. They hardened instantly, and he could not restrain moaning, looking up at me with desperate eyes. I could see the shape of his boy dick hardening in his blue briefs.

The boy’s smell aroused me, a blend of pungent soap, peppermint deodorant and that musky scent typical of redheads. My cock pushed so hard against my pants I thought it might break through the fabric. So it was time to free his hands and make him participate actively. I gave him instructions about what he had to do. Pull down my zipper. Unclasp my belt. As my trousers had fallen down unto my shoes, he had to pull down my pants halfway.

And there my throbbing cock was finally released from its bounds, bouncing out of the waistband, pointing at his juvenile face. It rose majestically like a scepter, and the sight of it made me feel proud, like a king indeed. The boy looked at it in disbelief at its size and firmness, maybe wondering how it would possibly fit into his orifices. I took off my leather shoes, but kept my black socks on, as they were not in the way. What I had to get rid of was my jacket, which was becoming to warm to wear, as well as my trousers and underpants, in order to comfortably stretch my legs apart. My white shirt and my tie could still wait a little while. After all, a tie becomes a boss.

Salivating in a pavlovian reaction, the boy opened his mouth as he was probably ready to take my cock. He obviously wanted it badly, but I wouldn’t let him swallow it yet. Worshipping manhood is a complex art, and I deemed it better that my pupil would start with good habits, and be introduced to more elaborate foreplay. Since my penis would end up in both his holes anyway, why rush it? He was waiting to be guided, looking up to me towering over him half clad but in full erection. I made my shaft bounce up against his face with a slapping sound, ran it against his nostrils and lips and all the way up, rubbing it through his fuzzy ginger hair.

I had him take the cock between his fingers and make it slide through his hands. It was rock hard, but ought to remain so for a while yet. I urged him to lick my shaft from underneath, like a lollipop, passing his velvet tongue over and over from the glans down to the base. I had bound my scrotum in a leather cockring in order to keep my boner stronger and longer. The little man took my balls in his palms, playing with them, weighing how heavy they were, aware of what precious juice they contained. He passed his fingers through my bushy pubes, and as I was undoing my tie, I could see the droplet of precum that had oozed out of my tip.

As I unbuttoned my shirt, the boy was made to continue his delicate licking down to the soft spot between my balls and my thighs, and the tickling felt exquisite. His nostrils were huffing the warmth that exuded out of my crotch, basking in the acrid fragrance, and I knew my pheromones were filling his lungs all the way up to his brain. Impregnating him with my natural odor was like an animal way of marking him as the territory of my alpha presence. His face was flushing and he was panting heavily. Although my cock had not touched any of his holes yet, he was already completely overwhelmed by my manhood.

I noticed the boy’s dick was impossibly tight in his pants, so I allowed him to pull them down. Off went the little blue briefs, now useless as his unprotected crotch would now be mine to possess. His stiff willy was pointing upwards, and I discovered his little rosy nuts covered with silky pubes, like two ripe grapes about to be taken from the vine. I urged him to let his dick dangle in the air in order to test its firmness. He would have no use of it, but I needed to check his erection to make sure his lust for me was not fake. I had him turn around to take a look at his white buttocks, and the sight of his crack gave me another angry pang rising from by balls up to my stomach.

As I had taken out my tank top, I was just as stark naked as he was. All we had left were our socks, black for me and white for him, as though we were about to play a chess game. He stared hypnotized at my hairy nakedness. It must have been the first time in his life that the young lad could see a man in his fifties in the nude, and horny as a bull. It is indeed a privilege of mature males to afford being balding or bellied as long as they are in full control of their sexual energy.

All of a sudden, I gave a smack across his little nerdy face. The boy looked disoriented and scared, staring with googly eyes again, and that was precisely what I wanted to see. I needed to test his total submission to cock. In order to soothe him after the roughness, I inserted my thumb in his mouth which he sucked on avidly. Good boy. I knew it was hard, but taking my manhood inside was an honor that had to be earned and deserved. On his knees with his mouth open and waiting, he looked exactly like a catholic youth ready to receive the communion wafer. That was indeed an appropriate position of worship. As for me, I was standing up and in charge.

I grabbed his neck, and guided the boy’s head to my crotch to give him his first full taste of my flesh. He was visibly not an expert, and I had to warn him to watch his teeth. He opened wider, his lips tightly wrapped around my shaft plunging all the way down his warm wet mouth. I maintained my head on his neck to set the pace and let go after a few seconds. He continued to bob his head dutifully back and forth, servicing me with slurpy sounds.