Chapter 1: Peering Through the Lens of Desire
The apartment was a steal, tucked away in a quiet suburb that hid its secrets well. From my living room window, the view stretched out like a forbidden invitation—a wooded clearing just beyond the fence, where the trees whispered promises in the wind. I’d moved in months ago, fresh from a divorce that left me questioning everything, especially the straight-laced life I’d clung to for decades. But that clearing? It was a revelation, a spot where men gathered under the guise of a dog-walking path, turning it into something raw and electric. Gay dogging, they called it in hushed online forums, and I’d become its silent witness.
Nights were the best, when shadows played tricks and the air hummed with anticipation. I’d set up the camera in a bird box, motion-activated, feeding straight to my laptop. The footage was grainy at dusk, but on clear afternoons, it sharpened into something intoxicating. Guys in their prime—eighteen to thirty, mostly—strolling in with that casual swagger, eyes scanning for company. Older ones showed up too, hungry for whatever scraps they could get, but it was the young pack that hooked me. Five or six on Sundays, cocks out before they even settled, hands roaming like they owned the damn forest.
I’d watch, heart pounding, my own dick straining against my jeans. The sounds filtered through the open window sometimes—a low groan, the slap of skin, the rustle of leaves under shifting weight. The smell? Even from here, on humid days, it wafted up: sweat mixed with earth, that musky tang of arousal that made my mouth water. I’d stroke myself slowly, imagining the taste—salty pre-cum on my tongue, the bitter edge of a stranger’s load sliding down my throat.
It started innocently enough. A threesome with my grandson’s friend and the neighbor kid had cracked me open. Peter, that eighteen-year-old tease, had seduced me in my own shower, his young cock sliding into me like it belonged there. Then the double penetration—two hard shafts stretching my ass until I saw stars. I was sore for days, but the ache only fueled the fire. Now, staring at the screen, I craved more. Multiple cocks, anonymous thrusts, the thrill of being used in the open air. My logbook filled with cropped faces, blurry but enough to fantasize. It was time to stop watching and start joining.
Sunday rolled around, the sun beating down like it knew my secrets. I prepped: lube slicking my hole, condoms in my pocket, nerves buzzing like live wires. The walk took ten minutes, but it felt eternal, my ass clenching in anticipation, mouth dry with want. As I neared the clearing, voices drifted—low laughs, a zipper’s rasp. Peering through the brush, I saw them: six young bucks, shirts off, cocks in hands. Two were already jerking each other, veins bulging under taut skin. The air smelled of pine and fresh sweat, thick enough to taste.
I coughed, stepping out. “Looks like a hell of a party. Room for one more?” My voice cracked, but they turned, eyes appraising.
The oldest, maybe twenty-eight, with a smirk that screamed confidence, gripped his seven-inch cut cock. “New meat, huh? You think you can handle us all, old timer?”
I dropped to my knees without a word, the dirt cool against my skin. “Let’s find out.” 🔥
Chapter 2: The Circle Closes In
The ground was uneven, pebbles digging into my knees, but the discomfort only sharpened the edge. The leader—let’s call him Jax, from the tattoo snaking up his arm—stepped forward first. His cock hovered inches from my face, thick and veined, the head glistening with pre-cum that caught the sunlight like dew. I leaned in, inhaling his scent: clean soap undercut by that primal musk, balls heavy and swinging slightly.
“Open wide, slut,” Jax growled, slapping his shaft against my cheek. The sting bloomed warm, and I parted my lips, tongue out like an offering. He didn’t wait—thrusting in, filling my mouth with salty heat. I gagged at first, the girth stretching my jaw, but I relaxed, sucking hard, my hands cupping his balls, feeling their weight, the faint hair tickling my palms.
Around me, the circle tightened. Hands groped my shoulders, my ass, unzipping my pants with rough urgency. “Fuck, he’s lubed up already,” one voice rasped, fingers probing my hole, slick and insistent. I moaned around Jax’s cock, the vibration making him hiss. Another guy—slimmer, maybe twenty, with a mop of blond hair—pressed against my side, his uncut six-incher tapping my temple. I reached for it, foreskin sliding back under my grip, revealing a purple head slick with need.
“Suck him good, then it’s my turn,” the blond said, voice husky. I switched, pulling Jax deep into my throat while stroking the new one, the dual rhythm building like a storm. Behind me, the finger became two, scissoring me open, the burn delicious. Then a cock nudged my entrance—thick, anonymous, sheathed in latex that crinkled faintly.
“Take it, you eager bitch,” the voice behind me grunted, pushing in. The stretch was immediate, filling me to the hilt, pounding my prostate with each snap of hips. I saw stars, pre-cum leaking from my own dick onto the dirt. The sounds enveloped me: wet slurps, heavy breathing, leaves crunching under feet shifting for better angles.
Someone grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. “My cock now.” It was the small one—four inches, cut and slender, but rock-hard. I engulfed it easily, the bushy pubes brushing my nose, tasting of sweat and faint soap. He fucked my face gently at first, then harder, his moans high and needy.
Jax’s cock throbbed in my hand. “Swallow it all.” Hot spurts hit my tongue—bitter, thick, endless. I gulped it down, savoring the warmth sliding into my belly. The guy in my ass came next, groaning low, the condom ballooning inside me. He pulled out with a pop, replaced instantly by a longer one—eight inches at least, slim and relentless, driving deep.
“Shit, he’s tight,” the new fucker panted, hands bruising my hips. I came then, untouched, ropes splattering the ground, the earthy scent mixing with cum and sweat. More guys arrived—older ones, forties maybe—watching, stroking. “Late to the fun,” one laughed, but soon they were in, spit-roasting each other nearby.
The small cock in my mouth erupted, a surprising flood that overflowed my lips, dripping down my chin. I licked it clean, hungry for more. The blond took his place, fucking my throat roughly, gagging me until tears stung my eyes. His load was milder, creamy, coating my tonsils.
Behind, the long cock hammered on, the slap of balls against my ass echoing. “Gonna fill this hole,” he warned, and he did—pulsing deep, the latex warm against my walls. I was a mess, covered in spit, cum, dirt, but alive with it, every sense on fire.
The last of the young six loomed—the youngest, barely nineteen, athletic build, his cock the biggest yet: eight inches, fat, uncut, head bulbous like a mushroom. He took his time entering, the stretch making me whimper. “You like that, daddy?” he teased, voice smooth as silk. I nodded, mouth full again with the small guy’s return for seconds.
His thrusts were powerful, each one sending shockwaves through me, the friction building heat that made my skin prickle. The air tasted of salt and pine, sounds a symphony of grunts and gasps. He came with a roar, flooding the condom, leaving me gaping and yearning.
As he withdrew, the circle broke, guys pairing off. I caught my breath, trousers around my ankles, body humming. The young one with the massive load—the small-cocked kid—helped me up, his touch gentle. “That was hot. You got more in you?”
“Always,” I rasped, tasting cum on my lips. “Come back to mine. Let’s make it last.” 💋
Chapter 3: The Feeding Frenzy Unleashed
We lingered a moment, watching the chaos unfold. Two older guys were on their knees now, surrounded by the remaining young pack, mouths and asses working overtime. One elder took two cocks at once in his mouth, cheeks bulging, drool stringing to the ground. The scent was overpowering—cum-soaked earth, heavy sweat, the faint metallic tang of latex tearing in the frenzy.
“You handled that like a pro,” the kid said, zipping up, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Up close, he was even cuter: smooth skin, a smattering of freckles, that innocent face hiding a cum factory. “Name’s Alex, by the way.”
“Call me whatever you want,” I replied, pulling up my pants, ass throbbing pleasantly. “Just come with me.”
He glanced at his mates, who were deep in their own orgy—one bent over a log, getting railed by Jax while sucking off the blond. “Yeah, fuck it. Lead the way.”
The walk back was charged, our arms brushing, the cooling air raising goosebumps on sweat-damp skin. I told him about Peter, the seduction, the double DP that had ruined me for vanilla. “Never looked back,” I admitted. “Now I need it rough, often.”
Alex chuckled, hand grazing my ass. “I like to be worshipped. Sucked slow, fucked when I’m in the mood. But today? You earned a private show.”
Inside my apartment, the door clicked shut, and he was on me—lips crashing, tongue invasive, tasting of the woods and his own lingering salt. We stripped frantically, clothes hitting the floor in a heap. His body was a sculpture: lean muscles, defined abs, cock already half-hard, curving up invitingly.
“Bedroom,” I murmured, leading him. He sat on the edge, pulling me down for a quick suck—his mouth hot, tongue swirling my head, drawing a groan from deep in my chest. But he stopped, eyes dark. “Fuck me first.”
I grabbed lube and condom, but he waved it off. “Raw. Trust me.” His legs lifted, flexible as a gymnast, hole exposed and pink. I slicked up, pressing in slow—the tightness gripped like a vice, velvet walls clenching. He groaned, head back, the sound raw and animal.
“Harder, daddy,” he whispered, pulling me close. Our kiss was sloppy, teeth clashing, breaths mingling hot and ragged. I pounded then, skin slapping, the bed creaking under us. Sweat beaded on his chest, trickling down, and I licked it off—salty, addictive. His cock leaked between us, smearing my belly, the friction making him buck.
“Like that, boy? Daddy’s cock owning your hole?” I growled, inspired by his prompt.
“Fuck yes—stretch me, fill me!” He edged himself, hand flying, but held back, moaning into my neck. I came first, flooding him deep, the warmth pulsing as he clenched around me. Pulling out, cum dribbled from his hole, white against tan skin. I dove in, tongue lapping it up—my own taste mixed with his musk, earthy and forbidden.
“Not yet,” he panted, pushing me away when I reached for his cock. “Shower first.”
Under the spray, water cascaded hot, steam filling the air with shampoo’s citrus bite. We soaped each other, hands exploring—my fingers in his crack, his pinching my nipples until I hissed. He ground against me, cock trapped between our slick bodies, but still no release. “Tease,” I muttered, nipping his ear.
“Patience, daddy. Good things come to those who wait.” His laugh was low, vibrating through me.
Dried and naked, we hit the kitchen. I whipped up sandwiches—ham, cheese, the bread toasting with a buttery aroma that cut through the sex-scent clinging to us. We ate at the table, legs tangled, talking filth.
“What’s your fantasy?” I asked, feeding him a bite, fingers lingering on his lips.
He blushed, rare vulnerability. “Edge me. Worship my cock without cumming until I beg. Call me… Son.”
My dick twitched. “Done, Son. Daddy’s got you.”
Chapter 4: Edging into Oblivion
The lounge was dim, afternoon light fading through curtains, casting golden hues on his skin. We settled on the sofa, a movie flickering on the TV—some action flick, explosions distant as my focus narrowed to him. Alex—Son—stretched out, feet in my lap, his cock semi-erect, balls loose and inviting.
I started slow, hands gliding up his calves, thumbs pressing into muscles that tensed under my touch. The air smelled of our earlier shower, clean but laced with arousal’s undercurrent. “Such strong legs, Son,” I murmured, leaning to kiss a knee, tasting faint salt.
He sighed, cock twitching. “Keep going, Daddy.”
My fingers reached higher, brushing inner thighs, teasing the base of his shaft without gripping. He shifted, a soft whimper escaping—music to my ears, needy and raw. Finally, I wrapped around him, stroking lazy, the skin velvet over steel, pre-cum beading at the slit like a pearl.
“Your cock’s perfect, Son. So hard for Daddy.” It throbbed in my palm, veins pulsing. I pumped slower, thumb circling the head, spreading the slickness. His breathing hitched, hips bucking slightly, but I eased off, denying the build.
“Fuck, please,” he groaned, voice cracking. The movie’s dialogue droned on, ignored.
“Not yet. Daddy wants to taste.” I lifted his foot, toes flexing, my pre-cum from earlier drying sticky on them. “Look what you did to me.” Sucking one into my mouth, I savored the mix—my essence, his skin’s warmth, a hint of soap. He shuddered, cock jumping untouched.
“Oh god, that feels… dirty good.” His free hand gripped the cushion, knuckles white.
I worked both feet, tongue thorough, the act oddly intimate, his moans guiding me. Then back to his cock—stroking, twisting, edging closer until his balls drew tight. “Beg for it, Son.”
“Suck me, Daddy. Need your mouth.” His eyes locked on mine, pupils blown wide.
I descended, lips parting over the head, tongue flicking the frenulum. The taste exploded—salty pre, a tang of his arousal. I took him deep, throat relaxing, nose buried in pubes that tickled. He fucked up gently, hands in my hair, the pull sending sparks down my spine.
But I pulled back at the brink, lips popping off with a wet sound. “More teasing?” he whined, body arching.
“Until you can’t take it.” We played like that for an hour—suck, stroke, deny—his pre-cum flowing like a faucet, coating my chin, the sofa. The room heated, sweat blooming anew, scents layering: his musk, my saliva, the faint leather of the cushions.
Finally, he snapped. “Fuck my face after—hard. Make me yours.”
I flipped him, ass up on the sofa, spitting on his hole before plunging in. No lube this time, just raw need—the slide easier from before, but tight enough to grip. “Take Daddy’s cock, you teasing slut,” I grunted, slamming home.
“Yes! Harder—make it hurt so good!” His voice broke on a moan, ass clenching rhythmically.
I railed him mercilessly, the slap of flesh loud, his hole fluttering around me. He stroked himself, edging still, whimpers turning to cries. I came with a bellow, seeding him deep, the overflow slicking my balls as they slapped his.
Pulling out, I grabbed his hair. “Your turn to beg properly.”
“Fuck my mouth, Daddy. Drown me in your cum—no, wait, I mean let me drown you.” Confusion, but lust won. He spun, kneeling, mouth open wide.
I fed him my softening cock, but he was the star now. No—he wanted me to fuck his face. But his need peaked; I took over, sucking him instead. Wait, narrative shift: actually, he begged to face-fuck me.
“On your knees, Daddy.” He stood, cock angry red, veins throbbing. I obeyed, mouth watering. He thrust in, rough, gagging me, tears flowing. The taste was intense—pre-cum flooding, his pubes grinding my nose.
“Swallow every drop, you cum-hungry old man.” His hips pistoned, balls slapping my chin, the rhythm brutal.
I did, when he erupted—ropes thick and endless, filling my mouth until I coughed, cum spilling. He kept going, milking himself, the overflow warm on my neck. “Good Daddy,” he panted, collapsing beside me.
We lay tangled, breaths syncing, the afterglow heavy with satisfaction. But he wasn’t done. “Round two?”
Chapter 5: Deeper into the Daddy-Son Abyss
The evening stretched lazy, but hunger gnawed— not for food, but for more of him. After cleaning up, we migrated back to the bedroom, sheets rumpled from earlier. Alex—Son—lounged against the headboard, cock lazily hardening as I crawled between his legs. The room smelled of us: sex, sweat, the faint lavender from the laundry.
“Worship it again,” he commanded softly, voice laced with that boyish authority. I nuzzled his balls first, inhaling deep—the musky warmth, soft skin against my lips. Tongue out, I lapped from root to tip, savoring the vein’s ridge, the way it pulsed under my attention.
“Mmm, Daddy’s tongue feels so good on Son’s cock,” he murmured, hand guiding my head. I sucked the head, hollowing cheeks, the flavor blooming—slightly bitter pre, mixing with my spit. He rocked gently, not rushing, drawing out the tease.
Minutes blurred; I edged him with mouth and hands, fingers dipping to his hole, circling the pucker still slick from my load. “Want Daddy inside again?” I asked, voice muffled.
“Fuck yes—breed your boy.” He flipped to all fours, ass presented, cheeks spreading to show the winking hole, cum-glazed. I mounted him, sliding in easy, the heat enveloping me like a glove. Our groans harmonized, bodies syncing in a primal dance.
“Pound me, make me leak your seed,” he begged, pushing back. I did, hips snapping, the bedframe rattling. Sweat dripped from my brow onto his back, salty trails I leaned to lick. His hand worked his cock, but he stopped short again, drawing it out.
We switched—him on top, riding me reverse, ass cheeks flexing with each bounce. The view was obscene: his hole swallowing my cock, balls swinging, the wet sounds obscene. “Feel that, Daddy? Son’s owning you now.”
“All yours, boy.” I gripped his hips, thrusting up, the friction building fire in my gut.
He came first this time—without touching, spurting across the sheets, ropes arcing white. The clench milked me over the edge, another load deep inside, mixing with the first. Collapsing, he turned, kissing me sloppy, tongues sharing the taste of cum and sweat.
“You’re addictive,” I whispered, stroking his hair.
“Come back anytime, Son. Door’s open.”
Night fell, and he dressed reluctantly. At the door, one last kiss—deep, promising. “See you Sunday? Bring friends.”
“Count on it.” He left, the echo of his steps fading, leaving me sated but already craving the next hunt. The clearing called, but now I knew its depths personally.
Chapter 6: Echoes of the Wild and the Return
The week dragged, every glance at the window stirring memories. My ass still ached faintly, a reminder of the stretch, the loads. I rewatched the footage—not great quality, but the audio captured grunts, my own moans blurred in the wind. Jerking to it, I tasted phantom cum on my lips, felt ghostly hands.
Sunday came fierce, sun high, air thick with summer heat. I prepped again, but this time with intent—inviting Alex’s return. The clearing buzzed earlier than usual; eight guys already, the young pack dominant, older ones circling like vultures.
I arrived bold, stripping as I entered the fray. “Miss me?” Jax grinned, cock in hand.
“Every inch.” Hands were on me instantly—mouths, cocks, the sensory overload crashing. One in my ass, thick and pounding; two in my hands, stroking slick; a third in my mouth, fucking deep. The air reeked of man—sweat, cum, the earthy rot of trampled grass.
“Take it all, cum dump,” a voice laughed, but I owned it, swallowing loads, clenching around thrusts. Alex appeared mid-scene, eyes locking on mine as he jerked watching. “My Daddy’s popular,” he teased, joining, his small cock—wait, no, in the story he’s the small one with big loads.
Alex pushed through, claiming my mouth. “Suck Son’s cock, Daddy.” I did, the familiar girth, the veininess, pre-cum flowing. Others used my ass in rotation—raw now, condoms forgotten in the heat—loads dripping down my thighs, warm and sticky.
He came huge, flooding my throat, some spilling as I gasped. “Good boy.” Then he took my ass, small but enthusiastic, pounding until I shot across the dirt.
The orgy peaked: daisy chains, doubles, the clearing alive with flesh. I lost count—six loads in my mouth, four in my ass, the tastes blending into a cocktail of salt and bitterness, body slick and marked.
As dusk fell, Alex pulled me aside. “Home?”
“Always.”
Back at mine, we dove deeper—roleplay intensifying. “Punish your naughty Son,” I prompted, but he flipped it. Him as Son, me Daddy, but with twists: light bondage, scarves tying wrists, his cock edging me now.
“Beg for Son’s cum, Daddy.” He face-fucked me slow, then fast, the control intoxicating. Hours passed in bliss—fucks, sucks, the night a blur of senses: touches electric, scents heady, tastes endless.
Dawn broke, him sleeping in my arms, cock soft against my thigh. This was no end, just the beginning of endless possibilities in the shadows beyond my window.
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