Forget Football, Do Me

"Hey there. I'm feeling kind of lonely here," Brett texted.

"You can come out here, the game is on," I replied.

Brett knew when football was on, I wanted no distractions. I needed to focus on every play, the commentary, all of it.

"You got beer and nachos in there," I joked.

"What if it smells like beer and nachos," he answered as I heard him laugh.

I was leaving the living room to join the nasty, hairy bastard until the game was stopped, meaning halftime, or when the clock was all zeroes. We kept the banter going as I sipped my third Modelo, with the white bearded love of my life teased how horny he was.

10 years prior, you couldn't convince me that we'd be at this point. I was 32, single, and fresh from a divorce after eight years of marriage to my college sweetheart. Brett was 49, and a senior telephone linesman who happened to catch me on the porch of my first home, reading a book. The burly daddy bear parked his service truck in front of my place, and I looked up to see him looking back at me in his sunshades, and hard hat, smiling before he climbed out to work. I smiled back, then focused on my book until I needed to look up, and saw this man in his safety vest, dirty jeans, and construction boots earning a living. I was bi, and had a thing for women the same as I did for masculine, older men, and I put down the book to focus on this public servant as he was doing whatever. 20 minutes later, he'd come down his ladder, and once he stood on solid ground, our eyes connected again, and we both smiled. He'd leave, and I remained on the porch only for him to come back an hour later to introduce himself.

"I guess its only right that I come say hello and introduce myself," he told me. "Brett."

"Shawn," I replied as we shook hands, and I invited him to have a seat.

This unfolded quickly because our natural attraction allowed it to. Brett, slightly taller than me at maybe six feet, was a charmer, with an assertive, yet soft demeanor. He smelled good, as he was minus the hardhat, safety vest and dirty jeans for summer beach wear as he might've showered before he returned in his cherry red pickup. I liked the fact that he, too, was a truck driver, and we just hit it off to where we talked until the sunset was happening.

"I'd like to see you sometime," he said before I gave my number.

He called me the next morning, and that evening I was spending the night at what is now our place as we had dinner, drank, and got naked to do adult things in his bed.

"I've got a thing for chocolate," he joked after he bred me twice, for he loved younger, black men like myself.

"A black cock, black balls, and black ass just appeals to me more," he told me.

We were freaks for each other two, three times a week for a few months while learning we truly enjoyed each other's company. He was the first man I bottomed for in quite some time, but only because of how he treated me, and how genuine he was with everything to where I chose to submit, vice request it. I wasn't seeing anyone else from the moment we talked on the porch, and I knew the same of him, and a year after we first met, we went to a courthouse to officially get married in becoming each other's "confidants and porn stars." I might've been his bitch in bed, but I was still a man, a man who loves sports, beer and cigars, while he was the home decorating, woodworking type. T

"I'm not leaving you alone until you join me," he texted again as halftime commenced.

I figured that he, too, was watching the game, not to see who would win, but to check out the men in tight pants. He at times would watch sports with me not worried about the outcome, as much as getting amped up to play in bed. The 59-year-old Brett was one gold star freak, a man who appeared straight, yet never had the adventure of slipping into vagina. He preferred man ass, and black man ass at that for he stated it curved better, and claimed it could take his nine inch poker much more than any other ethnicity. I thought it was a ridiculous statement, but I knew from the first time he penetrated me I met my match, for he tapped my spot the same way I would do if it was him, or any other bottom.

"Its halftime," was the caption of a photo he sent of that sweet, curved cock.

I knew when my man wanted attention and he wasn't saying no, so I got off the couch to head down the hallway to the bedroom. He was under the comforter watching the game, butt naked and slightly drunk as he, too, had a couple of beers on the nightstand. I stood a few feet away as we looked at each other.

"Get that fat ass over here," he told me.

At five foot nine, 170 lbs., I was nowhere near fat, for I worked out four times a week, then ran three. I just had a nicely built rump from the things I did in the gym, a rump he showed appreciation for when the opportunity presented itself. I came out of my clothes, then walked over to the bed to remove the comforter as he would showcase that hard dick. I was the one in shape, but Brett was the dad bod I could appreciate for he wasn't lifting anything but a steak or cocktail. Brett's bald head, thick manicured beard, and body covered in snow colored hair turned me on immensely when I saw it.

"Come here," he demanded while folding his right pointer at me.

I pushed down my shorts, and took off my tank top to climb onto the bed, and onto him as our chests were facing.

"Tell me about no damned football boy, when I'm in here horny as hell," he said as his strong arms gripped my ass while he kissed me.

Brett made me melt in a million ways, this moment being one of them as his beard was against my face while his tongue rubbed mine. He used his strength to roll us over, with him now on top, and my legs wrapped around his waist. That big, white dick was pressing in my pelvis to where I felt him precumming, and we continued to kiss, with his hands caressing my body, while mine were at his back.

"You want it," he asked as he kissed me on the neck.

"I do," I told him, and he raised up before wiggling below my waist to begin licking me out.

My legs automatically shot to the ceiling, then spread just in time for his tongue to dig in my anus. He pulled on my nipples as he ate me out, things I didn't experience until I met him a decade prior. Brett's mustache brushed my balls, and that beard rested against my cheeks as his tongue was deep inside, swirling, massaging, doing all he could make it do while making me squirm. I tried to close my legs, and he held them open as he primed me for what was to come.

"You like teasing daddy," he said. "Wearng those shorts, and showing off that ass. You know I've been drinking, and you wanna tease me, huh?"

Right then he slipped two fingers in my hole, and wiggled violently as he caused an orgasm immediately. I was shivering and wailing as he massaged my prostate, and only stopped when he pulled the fingers away to lick at my hole some more.

"Fuck this, I can't take it anymore," he said, and got off the bed to grab the lube, then return.

He placed a little bit of the liquid on the same fingers, then rubbed inside my hole again as he was resting on his knees. The ESPN crew was breaking down the game, talking of stats and players who made, or didn't make an impact while I looked up at Brett. He was stroking his cock as he looked away briefly at the television, then wiggled closer to me with that fat meat in his hand, with its silver bush. He looked down at entering me, and I would feel that initial pinch as he began to ride me.

"Take a deep breath, and let daddy have it," he said.

"Come on. Loosen that pussy for me."

He talked to me the way I talked to bitches when I was the one on top, reminding me that I was the "bitch" whenever in this situation. I took that breath and my ass felt like it was being stretched, and looked up to see him exhaling, then smiling as his belly was just over mine. He was now all the way inside me as I felt every inch of him while his hairy balls rested against my ass. He reached down to rub on my chest, and let his thumbs flicker at my nipples.

"Yeah, you like that," he said of my response, as he knew I loved my nipples teased. "Hole is opening up some more now."

I felt him pull back, then push in, before pulling back to commence a repeat movement. In and out slowly he was while his hands were holding my feet, and his pubic hairs brushed against mine as he went deep. I wasn't sore after a minute or two for he was massaging my prostate better than when he had the fingers inside.

"Listen to it," I said to him as "it talked back."

"Love this black pussy," he replied before he started bringing the thrusts.

Brett leaned forward to pound me deeper while holding my legs at his shoulders. He looked into my eyes while shaking his hips side to side, and skillfully massaging my guts with that thick cock. He had a look of conviction, a look of affirmation that he belonged where he was, and it wasn't to be any other way. I reached climax after climax while he dominated me, stretching me in a way that was better than me jerking off my own cock.

"You like that cock in you," he whispered. "How bout a little faster?"

Brett was a fuck machine as he thrusted faster, hitting the spot more violently. I "became slippery" from his precise nudging of my prostate, causing my hole to squelch while turning soggy from his actions.

"You want daddy's cum," he asked as he was turning red, while pumping faster.

I was absolutely losing my mind while hearing the game kick off again, with Brett digging in me to where I couldn't get enough. He was getting closer as he looked away, and opened his mouth as he was about to approach the edge.

"Oh my God. I'm coming, I'm coming baby," he wailed before I felt strips of that hot semen blast inside me as he cried.

He finished, then laid on top of me while his cock softened and slipped out of my hole. He laid his head on my chest while trying to catch his breath, then turned it to kiss me a minute or two later, then thank me.

"I needed to give it to you," he said.

We kissed once more, then he raised off of me to go into the bathroom, while I got up to put my clothes on. Later I felt his cum running out of my ass as I sat on the sofa, and he would come out of the room, wearing his robe, and reading glasses as he walked past, smiled, and went into the kitchen.