Ash and Arthur: Fifteen-Love

Arthur was approaching seventy. Alone since his wife passed, over a decade earlier, he did his best to find ways to fill his days. Lunch with friends, though they were moving on one by one as well, was a favorite way to spend the afternoon. The retirement community was a mostly quiet place, relaxing, warm, with very little disruption. There were swimming pools, rec centers, tennis courts, an eighteen-hole golf course, and a staff on hand to cater to the retirees every need. The most exciting thing that had happened in the past six months was when his neighbor, Sydney, crashed his golf cart into the security gate on his way off the grounds, spoiling the security guard's nap.

In his younger years, Arthur had been an adventurous sort; he rock climbed, skydived, sailed big boats, and lifted heavy weights. He'd coached numerous amateur-level sports, and saw a handful of teams to championship victories over the decades. Life had been good to him, and he was enjoying his retirement, though he did find himself bored by the monotony more than he cared to admit. He still lifted weights, though they were lighter now, but he worked to maintain his enviable physique, and often caught the women of the community smiling at him. The bravest of the lot weren't shy about inviting him for tea, or for a walk. It was no secret what they really wanted. He had stopped going to the swimming pool on account of all the stares he got when he stripped down to his swimming trunks. He drew stares when he wore white flannel trousers and walked along the beach.

One quiet afternoon (but then again they were all quiet around here, weren't they?) he decided to head to the tennis courts, to smack a ball against a wall for a couple of hours, work on his backswing. The court was usually empty at this time of day, and the heat was keeping most of the residents indoors. Only when he got to the court he found he wasn't alone. There was a young college-age looking man, handsome, with brown hair, and crisp white tennis shorts on, taking a tongue-lashing from the man Arthur recognized as being in charge of the athletic and leisure activities for residents.

"We've discussed this. You're not to fraternize with the residents! Now, this is your second write-up in two months, and I'm starting to think it won't work out, but --" he glanced around, at the sound of Arthur clearing his throat. "We'll continue this later. It appears you have a student."

Arthur never liked the activities director. He was too prissy a fellow, and liked to throw his weight around unnecessarily. The sort of man who, when given a small amount of power over others, liked to remind them of said power at every opportunity. As he left the court, he nodded curtly to Arthur, and said something forgettable about the weather. Arthur nodded in reply, never taking his eyes off the young buck leaning over the net, testing the tension.

His pink short-sleeved shirt hugged his physique like it was spray painted on. His shorts were high-cut, revealing firm, tanned legs befitting a man who spent hours on tennis courts. Arthur felt a stirring in his own tennis shorts, something he hadn't felt in quite a long time, which confused him as he'd never in all his years even noticed another man in this way. I must be really lonely! he thought, holding his tennis racket over his crotch.

Ash turned, waved, and jogged over to introduce himself. His body moved in ways that sent blood flooding to Arthur's already swelling cock.

"I'm the new tennis coach on staff," he said, followed by quite a few other things that Arthur couldn't seem to focus on, choosing instead to drown in the young man's incredible eyes. Arthur's tennis racket was fighting a losing battle hiding his swelling cock, so he asked if Ash would lob a few balls at him, hoping to put some distance between them, hoping the distance of opposite ends of the tennis court would prove enough to hide his growing bulge. He considered excusing himself, but couldn't seem to tear himself away from the young man's gaze, his lopsided smile, his backward cap, that ass.

After a few easy rounds, Ash started really firing balls at him, testing him, cheering him on and expressing how impressed he was that the much older man was keeping up with him.The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly as Arthur volleyed back and forth with Ash, his muscles straining to keep up with the younger man's relentless serves. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he refused to let it show, determined to prove he still had what it took.

"Good shot, Arthur!" Ash called out, his golden skin glistening with exertion as he returned another serve. "You're a natural!" His wide smile revealed perfect white teeth, and Arthur felt his heart skip a beat -- a terrifying prospect at close-to-70, but thrilling nonetheless. He couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at him with such admiration and interest.

Thankfully it seemed Ash hadn't noticed Arthur's bulging crotch, or if he had he was polite enough to not mention it, and embarrass the old man. After an hour or so, Arthur shook Ash's hand and promised to return later in the week for a rematch.

"You did good today, sir! Now hit the showers," he laughed, winking.

Arthur practically limped back to his bungalow, practically fell into the shower, but as soon as the hot water hit his aching muscles, his old friend was full mast again. He took care of it the way he had countless times before in his life, gripping, squeezing, heavy balls bouncing against his thighs, only this time the face he imagined in his most private of thoughts was no longer his wife's. No longer the barista who could never remember his name, but had a rack on her that made his mouth water.

The face he saw, the body he saw, was Ash's. Ash looking up at him hungrily, eagerly, licking his lips, smiling, waiting for his treat. Begging Arthur to --

"Fuuuuuuck!" he grunted, unloading against the shower wall, an orgasm the force of which he hadn't felt in years. He roared through every jet, gasping, thrusting into the empty air, his heavy load swirling down the drain between his wide hairy feet.

Arthur slumped against the shower wall, panting heavily as he recovered from his explosive climax. He couldn't believe what had just happened. This was the first time in decades that he'd been so hard, so turned on, and never before by a man. He wasn't sure how to process it. He toweled off slowly, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions, eventually chalking it up to the heat.

As he dressed, Arthur caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His once muscular frame had softened with age, but there was still something appealing about him. His grey hair was neatly combed, and his eyes, though tired, still held a certain spark. He hadn't felt this alive in years.

The next day, he found himself making an excuse to visit the tennis courts again. Ash was there, teaching a group of fiery-haired senior ladies, but he waved enthusiastically when he spotted Arthur.

"Hey, Arthur! Come join us!"

Arthur shook his head, explained he had other things to do, but Ash was insistent.

"Come on, big guy. I was just telling Flo and Joan here about your explosive forehand," he grinned, flashing that perfect smile. The ladies in question were ogling young Ash like he was made of brisket, throwing each other secretive sidelong glances. Arthur knew what it felt like to be stared at like he was a piece of meat, so he shrugged and joined the match.

"Great! We'll play doubles," Ash smiled, tossing Arthur a racket. Arthur had jerked off twice that morning, imagining Ash in all manner of lewd fantasies, and was hoping that he was drained enough to remain semi-soft for at least a little while longer, though his sizeable flaccid bulge resembled a can of tennis balls in his shorts. That couldn't be helped. He had the kind of cock men fantasized about having, never realizing how awkward and uncomfortable it could make every day situations.

Ash leaned in conspiratorially, and whispered, "Go easy on 'em, big fella. These ladies can't handle what these big guns of yours can do."

Arthur's face reddened as Ash gave his right bicep a squeeze, grinning.

That smile.

"I hope I look half as good as you when I'm your age," he said, turning and walking to his position on the court.

That ass.

Arthur grimaced as he felt the stirring in his shorts again, but before he could respond Ash served the ball to their opponents, much gentler than he'd been firing at him from across the net the day before. As the game continued, Arthur found himself laughing and enjoying himself in a way he hadn't in years. Ash's energy was infectious, his praise genuine and unguarded.

Between serves, Ash would make some comment about Arthur's form or power, his hand occasionally brushing against Arthur's arm or back as he demonstrated proper stance. Each accidental contact sent shivers through Arthur's massive body.

When the match was over, the women filed off the court, thanking them both profusely. Ash lingered behind, stretching his arms above his head, the movement making his shirt ride up just enough to reveal a strip of toned abdomen. Arthur couldn't tear his eyes away.

"That was fun," Ash said, jogging over to retrieve his water bottle. "You're really good at this, you know."

Arthur felt his face grow warm at the younger man's compliment.

"I used to play in high school," Arthur replied, surprising himself with how much he was enjoying the conversation. "Haven't held a racket in... I don't even know how long."

"Since 19-dickety-two?"

Arthur stared blankly.

"The Simpsons? Never mind. Before your time I guess," Ash joked, tossing Arthur a towel.

Ash wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, then screwed the cap back on his water bottle. "We should practice together again. You could teach me some of those old-school techniques."

"I... I don't know about that," Arthur stammered. "I'm not sure I could keep up with you anymore. Too old and soft."

Ash stepped closer, close enough that Arthur could smell the clean sweat on his skin. "I think you could keep up just fine," he said softly, eyes locked with Arthur's. "I think you're underestimating yourself. I think you've got a lot more energy in you than you realize. And I'm gonna help you tap into it, no matter how hard I have to work for it."

Arthur felt like he was about to explode in his shorts. He excused himself, and practically ran away, Ash calling out that he'd see him next time.

The next week passed in agonizing slowness for Arthur. He thought about Ash constantly--his bright smile, his toned body, the way he touched Arthur like he belonged there. Each night found Arthur's hand wrapped around himself, imagining Ash in his bed, under him, over him, with his mouth, his hands, that ass ...

By the time the next scheduled match rolled around, Arthur was so keyed up he thought he might combust just from Ash's proximity. He'd picked out his nicest pair of shorts--an old pair from when he still had a waistline--paired with a white shirt he'd had since his glory days. In the mirror, he saw the ghost of that young man still hiding beneath the wrinkles and grey hair.

Ash was already there when Arthur arrived, jogging in place to stay warm. His shorts clung to his ass in a way that made Arthur swallow hard, and his shirt was just tight enough to outline every muscle. He grinned widely as he spotted Arthur approaching, his whole face lighting up.

"Hey there, sir!" Ash jogged over, closing the distance between them. "I was starting to think you stood me up!"

"I would never," Arthur managed, trying to catch his breath from the walk. Ash was right there, close enough that Arthur could feel his body heat. His skin prickled with goosebumps, and his pulse quickened. "I was just uh running a bit late. Had something I had to take care of first."

Ash's eyes slid down Arthur's body, then back up again, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Well, I'm glad you made it. You look great today, by the way." He reached out, adjusting Arthur's collar with a gentle touch that lasted just a beat too long. "Ready to show me those moves?"

Was this really happening?

"No old ladies to distract us this time, big guy," Ash said, crossing the court, every step making his perfect ass flex in a way that made Arthur's balls ache for release.

"Nowhere to hide out here on the court," Ash laughed, serving, hard. Arthur watched the ball come flying at him, his body reacting instinctively. The serve was faster than last time, the spin more pronounced, but he managed to hit it back with surprising power. Ash returned the shot smoothly, coming to the net as he volleyed the ball back and forth. Each exchange was more intense, more charged. Sweat beaded at Arthur's temples as he concentrated on every movement Ash made, tracking the fluid way his muscles contracted and relaxed.

"You're really putting some power behind those shots," Ash commented between rallies, his breath coming quicker now from exertion. "Impressive for someone so old and soft. Your words, big man. I'm here to prove you wrong."

He served again, slower this time, and Arthur knew it was just to tease him.

"All this energy just waiting to be unleashed," Ash added with a grin. "You're full of surprises."

"Just you wait, champ," Arthur laughed. "You ain't seen nothin' yet."

He was rock hard now, had given up on keeping his cock down. During some downtime he nonchalantly turned away, repositioning it across his thigh, hoping it would be lost in the wrinkle of his shorts, but just as there was no place to hide on the court, there was no place to hide in his tennis shorts. He was on full display, and was hoping, praying, that Ash didn't notice his cock threatening to bust out of his inseam like a can of biscuit dough.

The friendly game continued, Ash's competitive streak shining through as he challenged Arthur to longer rallies, to harder shots, to outplays that left them both panting. Sweat dripped down Arthur's back, soaked through his shirt and stuck the fabric to his skin. Ash wasn't faring much better--his shirt clung to his torso, revealing every contour of his lean body, the way his abs tightened when he twisted for a shot.

"You holding back on me, old timer?" Ash taunted during a water break, wiping his face with the back of his arm. His biceps flexed as he raised the water bottle to his mouth, drinking deeply. A trickle of water escaped the corner of his mouth, and without thinking, Arthur reached out to wipe it away with his thumb. Ash froze when he made contact, and for a moment neither of them breathed.

"Gotcha," Arthur murmured, voice rough. Ash licked his lips, slipped his racket into its sheath, and zipped it up.

"You got plans for after this?" He asked, staring at Arthur's bulge so intently the old man wasn't clear if he was talking to him or his dick.

"Just gonna hit the showers again. Like usual," Arthur responds, bouncing his cock in his shorts, smirking as Ash struggles to contain himself. He's seen this expression on countless women over the years, but never another man. That hunger. That lust.

Ash sits on a nearby bench, and instead of reaching for a towel, strips off his soaking wet shirt, breathing hard, doing his best to keep his eyes off Arthur's bulge.

They both want this. It's clear now.

What Ash says next takes Arthur by surprise.

"I can't get fired, man. Not again. This keeps... fuuuuuck... this keeps happening. I just can't control myself around you..."

Arthur joins him on the bench, his thick cock curving over his thigh, the head practically touching the bench between the two men. Ash stares down at it, groaning.

"Can't control yourself?" he asks, perplexed. "Around... me?"

Ash sighs.

"I have a thing for older men, okay? Always have. I thought it was just a phase, thought I'd grow out of it, but I'm starting to think I never will, and now here you are, with that... fucking monster. My god, who on Earth can resist that thing? The ladies were right. You're packin', man. That's a grade-A hole wrecker."

His cock throbs at the admission, precum already soaking through his shorts. He doesn't know what to say, but doesn't have to, as Ash reaches out without breaking eye contact, his fingers brushing over Arthur's swollen length.

"I've thought about this so many times," Ash admits, voice strained. "In the shower after we played with those old ladies. In bed again that night." His fingers curl around the outline of Arthur's cock, giving it a light squeeze that sends intense pleasure straight to Arthur's core.

"I've got tattoos older than you," Arthur grunts, his hips giving an involuntary thrust into Ash's hand. "But fuck me if that doesn't feel amazing. Ask what?"

"If you wanted this too," Ash moves closer. "If you wanted me on my knees for you."

Arthur's entire body shudders at Ash's words, a groan escaping his throat. The young man's hand feels incredible through the thin fabric of his shorts, his grip firm.

"Jesus Christ," Ash murmurs as he strokes Arthur's length through the shorts.

"Never thought I'd ever see one this big. How do you find pants that fit?"

Arthur grabs Ash's wrist, stopping his motion. He says hoarsely.

"Quit playing and take it out. I want you to see it."

Ash meets his gaze.

"Not here." Arthur's blood runs hot at the words. The thought of Ash getting on his knees right here on the court--public, exposed, vulnerable--sends a thrill through him. But he nods, breathing hard. Too dangerous. They could get caught.

"My place." he says. His fingers are still wrapped around Ash's wrist, feeling the young man's pulse race beneath his skin. "Now."

He releases Ash's wrist to stand abruptly, his cock straining visibly against his shorts.

Ash's breathing stops for a second as he looks up at Arthur's imposing frame, his gaze drinking in the older man's muscular build, the sweat-slicked torso visible through his sweat-soaked shirt.

The ache in his groin is growing unbearable as he watches Ash bend over to retrieve his equipment. The way his shorts strain across his ass makes Arthur's cock pulse painfully. He doesn't even try to hide his erection now.

The walk back to Arthur's bungalow is excruciating. They seem to pass every single other resident, groundskeeper, activities director, visiting family on the way, and Arthur is forced to make small talk, Ash to put on a smile, as they pass.

Arthur's cock is rock hard the entire time, his only thought of Ash's perfect muscle ass gripping his dick, riding him, doing all the filthy things he's fantasized about over the past few days. The second the door closes behind them, all pretense evaporates. Ash is on him immediately, pressing his body against Arthur's, his lips finding the older man's neck as his hands push under Arthur's shirt.

"Fuck, I've wanted this," he breathes against Arthur's skin, teeth grazing the sensitive area just below his ear. Arthur groans, his hands finding Ash's ass, that impossibly perfect ass, and squeezing hard as he backs the young man toward the bathroom, the shower, where he shot that first enormous load he'd shot, biggest he'd shot in years, a real drain clogger. The way the younger man's muscular butt fills his hands makes his knees weak, just enough give, just enough fat covering thick muscle.

They stumble into the bathroom, clothes falling away as they go. Ash's shirt comes off first, revealing a smooth, chiseled torso.

"I'm sorry if I'm too big," Arthur moans into his mouth, as they make out. Ash pulls back, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he looks down at Arthur's massive cock, the purplish head resting between his pecs like a clenched fist. He briefly recalls that night his ex tried to fist him, how much it hurt. Hurt like hell, before it felt mind-alteringly good. They'd only made it to his ex's wrist that first time, but Ash had lost track of his orgasms.