Okay, it’s a bit exhausting to maintain the pretext of being someone who died in their 80s in 1981. So let’s flash forward to the man behind the myth (me). I still go by Peter Schutes when I write, but I’m not 120 years old. I’m not quite 60 yet. So I’m still old. I came out in 1984, only to discover that the obsession in my brain, raw gay sex, was suddenly more deadly than arsenic.
So in the post PrEP era, I finally get to be the slutty teenager I never got to be. I’m not scared of sex anymore, and I have a lot. Like maybe too much. But who cares. I made it to nearly 60, and I don’t give a shit any more about what sort of standards others might hold me to. I’m a slut and I love it.
I did realize that I was having so much sex, it was starting to interfere with my hobbies and business life. So I came up with a solution. From now on, if I have a sexual encounter, I have to blog about it. I laid some ground rules with my therapist (who thought this was a brilliant idea, by the way). If I go to sex club and get fucked by three guys, then I can write about any or all of them, and it counts. But if I then leave and go to the wildlife preserve and give a Mexican cowboy a blowjob on the same day, I have to write a separate blog about that. Until I do, I can’t have sex again. So you can expect a LOT of tell-all tales from me.
So here’s my first confession. A week ago, I went to a sort of secret sex club which, in the interest of keeping it under covers, we’ll call “Dave’s Den”. It’s a repurposed office suite, a labyrinthine maze with glory holes, beds, a sling, and a very dark room. It lives above a body shop in a Van Nuys industrial park near the airport. Most days/nights it’s a club for trans women to hook up with men. But two days out of the week it’s for gay men and trade to connect. It was a weekday night, and I tingled with excitement as I climbed the stairs and paid the paltry $20.00 admission fee.
I shed all but my underwear and sneakers. There were just a few men, none of them beauties, but at my age, I’ve switched from my old, picky ways. Instead of disqualifying men for not having everything I want (a handsome face, a great sense of humor, a big dick, a nice smile, etc.), they are now qualified if they have even one attractive feature. This has greatly enriched my sex life. I wish I’d done it sooner!
I went into the dark room. It’s just dark enough that your eyes never adjust. The only light comes from a heater that glows faint red in one corner. I could tell there was a man lying on a bed, cock pointed skyward. I stroked his furry chest. It felt gray. His cock was mouth-sized, so I spent some time on it. Another man crawled onto the bed. I could see the outline of his head and a faint glint of greed reflected in the heater light. I knew he would take care of him better than I wanted to. So I rubbed the wiry chest and patted it in a polite goodbye. This is a universal language in sex clubs.
Back to the light. A dimly lit room with two beds and a sling. I leaned against the wall next to one bed with a black bedspread. A small, handsome, wiry man with a great smile walked in and gasped, grabbed my massive balls. His underwear held a cock that wrapped around his hip, throbbing. It wasn’t thick, but it was plenty long. He reached up and put his hand on my shoulders, gesturing me to sit. He pulled out the long, thin cock, perfectly shaped, cut, and throbbing with desire. He smacked it against my cheek. I opened my mouth and surprised him by going down to the pubes, allowing the whole length of his cock to fill my mouth and reach down my throat.
“Oh, oho! Wow!” He had a nervous laugh. I don’t know how rare my talent is. I hate giving blowjobs, but I’m really good at it. I let the mushroom head glide back and forth past my tonsils. Unlike other men my age, I never had them taken out. It causes me to gag, but it’s apparently something that guys with long dicks really enjoy. He certainly did.
He held my head by the ears, humping my face like a dog. He had it. That top energy I love – a guy whose hips thrust almost involuntarily. As a committed bottom, I’ve never had that humping instinct. But he did. This was good. It’s what I craved. Removing my underwear, I stood, placing his slobbery dick head against my butt cheek.
He grinned. “Yeah?” Like he was surprised I would let him do it. This is Los Angeles. You can’t throw a penny without hitting a bottom. But he seemed genuinely astonished that a man would be so willing to take his long, beautiful cock in their hole. “You’d do that for me?”
Maybe he was just playing a role. Maybe he’s married to a woman whose ass is off limits. All I knew, I’d struck the jackpot. This was going to be fun. I crawled up onto the bed, presenting my ass to him. Earlier, I’d put in a solid lube suppository that I found on Amazon. It’s made with coconut oil, cocoa butter, and vitamin E. It makes my ass into a perfectly wet, slippery environment.
I spit in my hand and reached behind me, rubbing the head of his cock with a little extra slobber. I put my wet finger into my hole to open it up. I was ready for him. He gave another gasp of surprise when he entered me easily. Then he felt the wet, slick interior, and he groaned.
“Holy fuck, that’s hot. You’re so wet.” He sounded like he’d won the lotto. He was new to gay sex, I was sure of it. His surprise that I wanted him in my ass, his giddiness being deep throated, all of it. He was a kid in a brand new candy store.
He wasn’t new to sex, though. He fucked like an expert. Now it was my turn to moan.
“Oh god, yes.Oh god.” He was good. I told him so. His dick was just long enough to press against that inner valve at the end of the rectum. It wouldn’t pass through, but it tapped there. It caused me to shiver.
“Are you okay? Am I hurting you?” He seemed concerned.
“Nah, man, it feels so fucking good. You’re making my ass cum.”
That was a green light he’d been waiting on. He pounded me hard. He slapped my ass hard, taking long strokes. The flared head of his cock kept dragging past my prostate, causing my fat cock to drip onto the bed. To my surprise, he scooped it up, licking his finger.
“Your pussy juice tastes good.” He said it in a matter-of-fact tone, like someone might say, “Your headlights are off and it’s getting dark.” It was sexy.
“Here scoot over so I can lie beside you.” We moved together, his cock never leaving my hole. I love when they’re long enough to stay in during complicated maneuvers.
From the side, he pounded my hole. He lifted my leg and held it aloft so he could get the last inch in. I felt his head finally push through that second hole and shuddered. It’s the sweetest mixture of pleasure and pain.
I cried, “Oh god, right there! Just like that!” And he did. He did it just like that. We spent a few minutes in that position, moaning in mutual ecstasy. His rhythm was gentle, kind, steady. It was that wonderful connection two men have, where each is giving the other exactly what they want. When I seek out sex, that’s the feeling I am hoping to find. I found it just then.
There was another top that night, who didn’t like fat guys. I’m not obese,but I have a big bear tummy. The guy pounding my ass was his type. So he walked up to the edge of the bed and rubbed his cock against my impaler’s ass. The fucking stopped.
My straight guy said, “You want some of that?” He wasn’t talking to me, obviously. He was talking to the top, who moved in like a bird of prey.
Silently, the new man pulled my date off of me and pushed him face down on the bed. The thin man didn’t resist. He turned to me and winked.
“My turn!” And I watched as he took the other man’s modest penis into his ass, wincing at the newness of it all. I patted his arm and walked away, satisfied.
I recently learned that I don’t need to get off or have someone get off inside me to feel satisfied. My satisfaction comes from the feeling of providing pleasure. At a sex club, a top is unlikely to give you his load at the beginning of the night. It puts an end to their party. So for me, the tingling I felt in my asshole was a great reward. It was what I’d come for.
I was about to collect my things when a man purposely brushed roughly past me. I turned, and he was staring at me hungrily. He was easily the sexiest man there. Stocky and wide, his brown chest bulged with muscle, his ass was curvaceous, and between his legs hung a thick, soft, uncut cock. He sported a Mexican flag tattoo on one bulging bicep. His nipples were pierced: one a ring, the other a bar. As an older guy, I thought he was out of my league. But he stepped close, putting my hand on his cock.
Wordlessly, I escorted him to a bed. I put his cock into my mouth and felt it swell immediately. It was very thick, and long enough to reach the back of my throat in its semi-erect state. It kept hardening. I closed my eyes and leaned into him, taking the fat head past my tonsils. A bright light in the dimly lit room surprised me.
I looked up, and he was filming me. It was true; he was out of my league. A content creator in search of a daddy to film. With my mouth full, his hand at the back of my head, I couldn’t protest. He blocked my airway, gagging me, fucking my throat hard. A crowd gathered, watching the film unfold. I am old. I own my own business. I don’t care if I’m all over the internet. It would just be good for business. So I didn’t protest. I gave in, consenting as he violated my throat and my privacy at the same time.
He pushed me back onto the bed, focusing the camera on my fat cock and massive balls before moving the phone to his own giant throbbing cock. He followed it as it pushed against my hole. I thought it was going to hurt, but it didn’t. He slid in easily, sucking air between his teeth as his cock swam in my lubed hole. In late middle age,I’ve discovered I’m able to take massive cocks easily, painlessly. The bigger they are, the better. I’m a size queen, and this guy was huge. My big blob of a cock throbbed and bobbed as I wriggled with anticipation.
Slowly at first, he pushed in, pulled back, in, out, like a dancer. His hips thrust purposefully and powerfully, gaining speed like a locomotive pulling out of the station. He was a high speed train. Gradually, his hips became a blur. He held the camera light on the space where his muscled thighs met my smooth, round ass. He was performing and pleasing in equal measure.
I panted, stunned by the fury of his cock. It was relentless, causing my body to shake. He held my feet in one hand and pushed them over my head. The other hand continued its invasive recording of every stroke, every groan, the pubes on my balls, the bush at the base of his long fat cock.
I was a trick. He was a top notch escort, and he took his pay in privacy and content. I was a willing client. Faster and faster he pounded me. I reached up and gently rubbed his pierced nipples. He threw his head back, turning the camera on his face to show the pleasure there.
I reached under and cupped his balls. They were heavy, slapping against my ass. The room filled with the sound of someone walking in flip flops. Thwack! Thwack! Our bodies clapped in rapid applause.
He handed me the phone. I knew what he wanted. I filmed him from below, my legs on the edges of the frame as his chest swelled with muscle. His handsome face, with furrowed brow, changed as the light crossed it. He smiled, He loved the attention of the camera and the men in the room who watched in amazement and envy as this muscle man plowed me, a fellow star in his porn production.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the long-dicked man from earlier. He caught my gaze and held out his hand for a high five. I slapped it and he chuckled with that cute nervous laugh.
Gruffly, the Mexican stud took the phone from my hand.
“I’m close. Are you?” I nodded. I’m always close when a big dick is stuffed up my ass. We timed it. I heard his breath shorten. He inhaled through his nose in short snorts. I put my fat cock in my fist and stroked it, my own breaths growing shallow and intense.
A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. The camera was focused on my stuffed hole. I briefly flashed that it would have been a moment of cinematic beauty to capture that trickle, but the moment passed. I was close. He was close.
“Yeah! Give me your cum.” I wanted it. I needed it. And he needed me to cum for his production. And I did. I don’t like bragging, but when it comes to my orgasms, I have to. My cock is 8 1/4” around, and only about 5” long. It’s fatter than a beer can. And that makes it like a sawed-off shotgun when I cum. The first shot sailed over my head, making a big puddle on the mattress behind me. The next one landed on my face, soaking my beard and cheeks. I know that made my partner get off, because suddenly,his relentless pounding stopped. He held himself tight against me. I felt him release.
A warm, slippery shot fired deep inside me at the same moment that my third shot landed on my chest. Then my belly. Then in the fold below my navel. At the same time, I felt my ass swelling with his cum. He stayed inside me, grinding, filming, grunting.
He pulled his cock out of me roughly. A trickle of cum came with it. I felt it drip from my well-used hole onto my big balls.
“Push it out.” His command was firm, bossy, but not hostile. A director’s confident request. I pushed out until a small river of cum fell before the camera lens, ending the scene. The light turned off. The room filled with applause.
Shakily, I stumbled to my feet. The room spun; my knees buckled briefly. My long-dicked lover from earlier caught me by the elbow, giggling.
“Whoa there, easy now! Heh heh.”
Dazed, I stumbled out of the room. I grabbed a wet-nap and wiped my dripping hole, tossing the cummy rag into the trash.
On the drive home, I grinned to myself. I got my twenty bucks worth, and then some.
