I kicked a couple’s ass
This story begins exactly 20 years ago, when I was 47 years old.
There is a premise to be made: I, from a very young age, have always liked to bring all my girlfriends, lovers, etc., to anal intercourse. So far so normal, but I also have a small flaw. I like it when the intercourse is “hard,” when she squeals and advises herself not to hurt her. Aided by the size of my phallus, which is definitely out of the norm, I can do some real masterpieces.
Obviously, having overcome the trauma of the introduction, let’s call it “firm,” it then triggers, in the woman, a great pleasure, a hundredfold compared to intercourse with so much caution and lubricant at its base. This “little defect” of mine, however, had the drawback that women, except for a very few, after undergoing the treatment, were very careful not to give me the B side again, so I had to repress this passion of mine a bit and had to adapt to buggering women, in the least traumatic way possible, resulting in the repression of my sadistic streak, but without eliminating it completely.
After this dutiful introduction, I turn to the story. Since I retired (yes, I am part of the hated baby retirees) I have devoted myself body and soul to my great passion: the sea. I own a cave carved into the cliff: a cliff overlooking the sea, which makes the beach it overlooks very interesting. I have made it quite cozy that it has nothing to envy my home. I also have a nice boat, with which I do very good fishing, and this is my world.
At that time, hanging out on the beach, a guy who was also fond of the sea and, of course, out of all my cave neighbors, whom I goliardically call “Sunday sailors,” he had chosen me as his teacher so that I could teach him all the tricks of sea-going. He would spend all his free time in my cave and help me with all the little jobs needed to keep the boat running efficiently: nets, creels, etc.
It goes without saying that I, not being a Sunday sailor, would go to my cave even in the winter months and, often, he, too, despite the cold weather and his school commitments (he had started high school V), would come down as soon as he could to learn more and more seafaring notions. When one felt the need to urinate and the beach was deserted, despite the fact that the cave was equipped with a fabulous bathroom, he would do it in the sea, on the shoreline. On those occasions, I had noticed that whenever I needed to relieve my bladder and started toward the shoreline, he, whatever he was doing, would leave everything and come down.
What was even stranger was that he would not come to pee, but would stare in amazement at my cock. I never had anything against homosexuals, but the idea of having a homosexual relationship never even crossed my mind. To test whether my idea was right, I intensified the times I went to pee and tried to do it when he was engaged in some chore. Well, he would leave everything and come down.
Strangely enough, a strange idea began to dawn on me. The sadism that lingered inside me, repressed but always present, was coming back to the surface. In a hypothetical anal intercourse with him, in fact, I would not have to restrict myself for fear of later rejection, so I could go at it as I wanted, unrestrained. These were days when I was very conflicted, but, in the end, lust took over. One day in early November, with the whole beach empty because a light drizzle was falling, we found ourselves alone in the cave. I broached the subject and without mincing words, I asked him:
“But do you like my cock?”
He definitely did not expect such a question, because he winced and turned all red. It took a couple of minutes, before he answered, then he exclaimed that he liked women, but, lately, he felt attracted to my cock, because he saw it as imposing and majestic (his words). I, just as sincerely, replied that I had never had relations with men, but, recently, the woodworm had entered my brain and, if he wanted it, I would be willing to kick his ass (I purposely used these strong words). I noticed that he bit his lip and mumbled that he had never done it, but I could clearly see that he wanted it badly and so I warned him, not so much out of loyalty to him as to cloak it in more excitement, saying:
“Keep in mind that, when I fuck a woman, I like her to scream in pain, because I don’t go easy on her and, as you could see, I have an extra large endowment; however, I must also say that, at the end of the devastation, all the women had mind-blowing orgasms.”
He looked at me with an expression of fear and excitement. He did not speak. He looked petrified! I said nothing more and resumed what I was doing, while out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he had remained motionless, looking lost in the void. I thought about who knows how many thoughts were going on in his head and decided that, from that moment, I would not open the subject again. About ten minutes passed and he still stood there, motionless, looking out to sea. At that point, since I had to put a plank on top of a shelf, I asked him for help……
It was like waking him from a deep sleep. Without a word he picked up the plank on the opposite side of me, but in lifting it, it slipped from his hands. The board was bulky but not heavy, so the fact that it had slipped from his hands meant that with his head he was somewhere else. He continued not to speak for another good half hour, then in a low voice he said:
“Yes, it is logical. The one who gets penetrated has to suffer the assault of the male, however painful it may be.”
To me, the situation had already caused a certain erection, and these last words had turned me to steel.
To cloak it in maximum lust, in a harsh voice I said to him:
“Come on, pull down your underpants and underwear, then settle down under the boat sundress so I can kick your ass!”
Like an automaton, he undressed and arranged himself as I ordered him. I undressed as well and poured a good amount of saliva into his hole and some on my cock. I positioned myself behind him and, with the tip, searched the sphincter. Once I was well positioned, I gave a strong thrust and entered him almost all the way in. He let out an inhuman scream and started begging me to come out, because he couldn’t resist. I pulled back a little, then gave another strong push and went all the way in. With sadism I told him:
“Too late! Now be good and take it!”
I kept thrusting like a madman and he kept screaming, wiggling and biting the sundress, but he repeated:
“Yes, yes yes, hurt me.”
I was finally breaking an ass according to what my inclinations were. After some of this pounding, I felt him stiffen up and an orgasm set in that made him scream more than he had in pain. At this point, I also let go and dumped myself completely into his bowels. Then I went to wash up and noticed that the water was tinged red. He pulled himself up, too, to go wash up, and I noticed that there was a lake in the sundress from the great cumming he had done. I dismounted him and took him to the seashore. I threw him into the water and with a broom cleaned him up. In the meantime he put his clothes back on and, with a stunted hello, left. Over the next 6, or 7 days, he didn’t show up, but I didn’t care, because I had planned for that to be the first and only time. One afternoon, however, I heard the usual “hello.” It was him and he sounded like a little beaten dog. I greeted him and asked him why he hadn’t shown up again, and he mumbled something, evading the question. He looked at me as if to tell me something, but he did not speak. Since he would not decide to speak, I was the one who opened the conversation and asked him how he was doing. He, with difficulty, answered that I had hurt him a lot, but that he had enjoyed it immensely and that, in those days, he had not been able to think about the incident without masturbating. To my “so?” he replied with a wide turn of phrase, which slowly led him to say that it might be pleasant to repeat the operation. I had become his sexual master!
I invited him to get into the position he knew again and lavished him with another ass-fucking, even more vigorous than the previous one. Throughout the winter, he would occasionally show up and come home with a devastated ass. In the spring, with the return of the “Sunday sailors” and with the intensification of his school work, in anticipation of the baccalaureate exam, which he was soon to take, we did not see each other again. The summer passed and one afternoon in early September, I saw him arrive. He told me that he had graduated from high school with honors and had enrolled in the faculty of naval engineering, so he would soon be moving to Genoa. We talked a bit about this and that, then he told me that our meetings had given him a wonderful time and that he had come to thank me and say goodbye, but he also had a proposal for me. Of course I asked him what it was, and he, not without difficulty, said that, in all our meetings, I had dumped cum in his intestines, but it goes in and out of there, leaving nothing behind. I, surprised, told him that I did not understand what he was getting at and immediately became defensive. Then he explained himself better and said that he wanted to have something of mine, inside him. Here I began to get agitated because I did not understand what he was getting at and feared some unpleasant request. He calmed me down and finally spoke plainly, telling me that he wanted to give me a mouthful, to preserve an indelible memory of me. I immediately came to refuse. I pointed out to him that although I like getting blow jobs, I am not an admirer of them and, on the beach, there were still many people. He, submissively, said that, if I didn’t like it, that was fine, and thanking me again, he said goodbye and started to leave At that very moment, I felt like shit. He had given me a chance to vent my sadistic passion and now that he was asking me for something, which was important to him and which I could very well grant, I was refusing him? I called him and he came right back. I asked him how he planned to do it, had I accepted. He did not understand the question and I clarified further by asking him where he intended to give me the mouthpiece and he, with disarming simplicity, answered:
“In the bathroom! Let’s go to the bathroom for a moment and I’ll do it to you.” I was puzzled and trying to buy time, but, in the meantime, I realized that although we think we control our urges, we are completely slaves to them. In fact, my cock had risen and the head was peeping out of my costume. He saw it and persuasively said to me:
“Come on, let yourself go, you’ll see: it will be good for me, but also for you.”
After all, there were no major impediments, and so I motioned for him to enter the bathroom. He lowered the toilet seat and sat on it, while I, lowering my briefs, brought my cock close to his mouth. He, with a “wow,” began to run his tongue under the head. I like rough mouthpieces, with the tongue pressing under the head and, if done skillfully, also like to feel the teeth. A woman hardly does this. He, on the other hand, was doing just that. I felt a very strong sensation and had to stop him several times not to cum. I worked him for about 20 minutes, then I took his head and pinned it down so he wouldn’t retract and dumped all the cum down his throat. On top of that, it was also a lot that day, because a week earlier I had had a fight with my wife and it had been a week since I had had sex. He finding a flooding river in his mouth, after a slight attempt to pull back, blocked by my hands, swallowed it all down to the last drop. When I finally let go, he looked up and whispered a “thank you.” He asked me if he could masturbate to quench his arousal, and I, on my way out, told him to do it quietly. After a while he came out, cheerful and relaxed, saying that he was now truly fulfilled, so we said goodbye and he left. I resumed my usual routine and, for 10 years, never saw him again. One rainy autumn afternoon, a good 10 years later, as I was the only nut on the whole beach fumbling inside the cave, I heard a “hello” that I knew well.
I turned around and saw him with a girl who, to call her gorgeous was to belittle her. A woman of the kind that hits your brain and makes it go haywire! Trying to hide my surprise, I showed myself happy to see him again. My eyes were glued to the wonderful creature next to him, and despite the fact that he had begun to tell of his graduation with honors and the job he immediately found as a naval engineer, as well as the acquaintance with her that led almost immediately to marriage, I could hear her voice almost as background noise, so enchanted was I with her. So many porky thoughts about her were going through my head, but I was perfectly aware that that was not “my bread and butter,” and it pained me. I pulled out some bottles of liquor from the small refrigerator and was lucky, because among them was a bottle of limoncello, the only liquor she liked. I was so anesthetized that I couldn’t even put on airs as a lived male; in fact, I felt awkward and out of place. She drank her shot, then asked for another, while he, finished, his “Old Romagna” refilled his glass. The atmosphere was heating up! Suddenly he came up with a sentence that caused my heart to plunge. Candidly he said:
“You see, love, it was he who initiated me into anal pleasure and, I assure you, he is a true artist in this.”
BANG! I would have preferred to have been shot. As I felt myself missing from the words I had just heard, she, with the sweetest smile, told me that she knew what had happened between us and that, according to her, it had been a wonderful thing. Then she added:
“I would also like to be sodomized, but unfortunately he can’t do it.”
I did not know what to say and chills ran down my spine. At this point he very naturally said that it would be wonderful if his wife could be opened to new pleasure, by someone like me, which would surely take her to the top of lust. I continued to have my brain blocked and totally incapable of reasoning and, probably, this embarrassment of mine was misperceived, so much so that he hastened to specify that, if I was not convinced by their proposal, I would be free to refuse, without any problems. This last sentence had a disruptive effect in me, unlocking me. I hastened to reply that I would be more than happy to accommodate her and reached out to give her a kiss on the cheek, but she turned and offered me her mouth. We kissed passionately and the first one was not enough for her, but she wanted to kiss me again and again for an endless series of kisses. The world, outside, had disappeared and only the two of us were left. We went over the boat and hugged each other tightly, then she whispered in my ear:
“Come on, bugger me, let me feel what the real male is like.”
The clothes flew off. Occasionally I sensed her husband’s presence, but they were just flashes. I turned her on her stomach and began kissing and nibbling her back, then slowly came on her ass. I kissed that too, including the little hole. I licked that gateway to heaven passionately, bringing her to a very high level of arousal. I laid a lot of saliva there, pushing it into her with my tongue, then I went on top of her. There was no need to lubricate myself, because my cock was covered with liquid. I positioned myself well behind her and pointed it against her sphincter. I began to thrust and the little hole began to yield. I could feel her stiffening and gritting her teeth, but I kept pushing and, before long, I was all inside her. Each time she turned her head toward me, I kissed her violently and, with one hand, went under her and touched her clitoris. She was moaning noisily and I could feel that the ring of her sphincter was giving way completely. She immediately had an explosive first orgasm and, after a very short time, began to enjoy again. I tried to pull as long as I could, until she had a second orgasm, even more violent and satisfying than the first. Here I could resist no longer and came inside her, emptying myself completely. We remained embraced, kissing and biting each other. Only then did we remember that her husband was there and was saying to her:
“Good love, you got deflowered and it was beautiful.”
He had masturbated and left a slick of cum on the ground.
I wished that day would never end, but unfortunately it was getting late and, although unwillingly, we had to get dressed and start toward the lane leading to the top, where the road is. Before we turned into the road, I hugged and kissed her again, then shyly asked her if she wanted, the next day, to come back. She replied:
“Of course, I want to be yours all this week!”
We took our leave and I returned home with a wonderful feeling of well-being. I looked forward to the next day and never hoped so much, that all that week it would be bad weather, so as to keep any beach-goers away. I was assisted by luck and it rained all week. The next day, right on time, they showed up again and she literally jumped on me. I undressed her and, kissing her passionately, positioned her to give her a mighty new ass-fucking, but she told me it burned too much and she would rather take it elsewhere.
Let alone pass up the opportunity to bugger her, after I had waited in spasmodic anticipation for that moment! Not listening to her words, I began to smear in her little hole a cream that, providently, I had bought in the morning at the pharmacy. Her husband helped me and, with persuasive words, tried to convince her to undergo again, reassuring her that she would have an even better orgasm than the one before. She weakly begged, but had no firm reaction to evade the new assault. I prepared her well, then turned her over. I slithered my cock over her hole a little, while with one hand I went underneath to tease her clitoris. She was getting aroused and, after a while, she murmured:
“Daaiii.”
With one good thrust I entered her and she let out a squeal, but, at the same time turned around, to be kissed. Before long she had a very long and satisfying orgasm that made her scream and say a sequence of dirty words. I continued to thrash hard, until another orgasm came. I wished I could have lasted longer, but I couldn’t and came. The intercourse had not lasted very long, but it had been very intense. We washed and began again, naked, to cuddle. The catalytic cylinder heater, warmed us sufficiently. We kissed and caressed each other like teenagers. Suddenly, 30 years had flown by. Her husband, whom, in truth, both she and I had forgotten, shyly asked our permission to undress. I firmly answered him:
“Of course, not only undress, but you will have to bugger her too!”
She jumped up with a:
“No, for goodness sake, it burns me too much: another time?”
I understood that a strong masochistic component resided in her, and certain to give her a strong pleasure I insisted:
“I said he’s going to fuck you, and that’s the way it’s going to be! You just obey!”
I saw in his eyes a flash of lust. He, in two seconds undressed and was so ready. He hesitated a little but I, putting my cock in her mouth, urged him to take her. So, he, happy as a child penetrated her. Obviously the sphincter did not resist in the slightest and she took to sucking me passionately. Unfortunately, he lasted only a short time and discharged himself inside her. She continued sucking me while I masturbated her clitoris, briefly giving her another orgasm, so I came in her mouth and, after an initial, slight hesitation, she swallowed it all. That week flew by between mighty butt-fuckings and heavenly blowjobs. Inexorably the last day arrived. I could not and would not think that wonder was ending! We saw each other as we had the previous days and immediately locked in a tight embrace, as if to say:
“No, it cannot end like this.”
We frantically undressed touching and licking each other. We knew about the tyrannical time, because they were to leave again that same evening. I would have liked to stretch those pleasant foreplay endlessly, but there was no time. So I reached for the tube of cream, but something unexpected happened. Her husband in fact pointed out to me that I had not yet fucked her in the pussy and that she, although having great difficulty in asking me, had quite a desire for it. I was immediately aroused to think of violating that wonderful little bud edged with blond hair and rushed to lick her clitoris. I brought her to a very high level of arousal, then went on top of her. I kissed her mouth and crawled the head between her labia majora. Her husband, visibly aroused, advised himself not to cum inside her, because, being unprotected, he risked pregnancy. I put it all over her and felt her squeezing it hard. As we fucked, I masturbated her clitoris with one hand and, almost immediately, she had her first thunderous orgasm. She began to enjoy again and I, in order to pull as long as possible, stopped when I felt the excitement rising too high and the point of no return approaching. She had two more orgasms and, with the last one, she crossed her legs over me to keep me from pulling out and making me go even deeper. It was really too much and, despite the danger of pregnancy, I could not hold back and came inside her.
I could hear him keep saying not to come inside her, but when he saw that I was sinking even deeper and coming, I heard him say under his breath:
Well, yes, that’s right, like that! It must be the alpha male who has to impregnate the females!”
Back to my senses, I felt like a worm. I had really done it big. None of us were talking. We could not fathom what had happened. Then, trying to repair the damage I told him to fuck her right away and come inside her so as to halve the chance that I would be the father of an eventual baby. He did not take it back and excitedly began to fuck her. This time he lasted longer than the ass vault and finally came inside her with a choked scream. It was getting very late and we sadly got dressed. We walked back up the small road and at the top we said goodbye. It was a good thing it was night, because my tears came down without crying. The next few months, for me, were hell. My thoughts were fixed on that week. I could not accept that that wonderful interlude was over, and it was a long time before the wound of separation healed. Ten years have passed since then and I have not seen or heard from them. Five years ago, from a number I did not have in my address book, I received a blurry photo taken from a distance. It depicted a little boy (or girl) going on a swing pushed behind by a female figure. My blood froze. I tried to see better, but it was completely out of focus. At first I thought it was them, but that was not possible, because neither I nor they had the phone number, so without thinking too much about it, I did what I thought was right: I pressed the delete key.
