Justin and Pops

 

Background

Pops

It all started innocently enough years ago.  I was at the gym, doing a brief workout on the heavy bag.  I’m by no means an experienced boxer.  I just like working the heavy bag at times, getting off on the contact, wishing the bag were me…LOL.  Yeah, I have a huge gutpunching fetish.  However, when I work the bag at times I can get into a kind of meditative state and zone out.  I was in such a state for a while and worked up a good sweat when I noticed a teenage kid watching me intently.  How long had he been watching me?  We made eye contact, he smiled, and asked, “Mind if I give it a try, Pops?”

I explained that I’m not a real boxer, but that didn’t seem to bother him.  I showed what I knew, the basics of throwing a punch, the importance of keeping his wrist straight…especially since he had put on a pair of the gym’s bag gloves with no wraps.  I told him about the power coming up through legs, twisting his body into the punch.  I also taught him how to pop a jab.  We worked out for a little bit.  Being mindful that I was a middle-aged gay dude and he was an underage teen…and “16 will get you 30,”  I excused myself and said I needed to lift a little before home.  Wouldn’t you know the little bastard offered to spot and lift with me??  I finally got his name…Justin…and we lifted a bit before I really had to leave.

Yeah, the kid was good looking…destined to grow into a handsome man!  While I do have a thing for aggressive, confident without being cocky younger men, my preference is for men, not boys.  I don’t know how I did it, but I was able to keep my mind from crossing that line in the beginning!

Justin

I can’t explain it, I just have a thing for older dudes.  Watching him working the heavy bag was mesmerizing.  I’ve always been somewhat bold, so I asked him to coach me a bit…and it’s the coaching thing that really gets me going!

He showed me some punching moves, and I couldn’t wait to impress him!  His compliments really made me swell with pride.  That wasn’t enough though…I had to show him how strong I am, too.  

I called him Pops out of respect.  He didn’t brush me off and I really appreciated that.  He took my interest seriously.  That made me want to impress him even more.  So I continued going back to the gym to practice what he showed me.  I even got some boxing books from the library and studied the Friday night fights on TV.  I was going to make him proud!

Pops

We continued to run into each other at the gym from time to time.  It was obvious that he was really getting into boxing.  He would work the entire bag with intense concentration, getting lathered with sweat.  He’d glance over to where I was lifting and shoot me a smile without a pause to his punching.  I was finding it increasingly difficult to not let my mind wander where it shouldn’t!I

And I mean he worked the entire bag!  He didn’t limit himself to hooks and body punches like me.  He’d jab and work in solid head and body shots.  It was obvious he was getting some outside coaching.  And the way he would keep glancing at me, I’d swear he was either showing off or taunting me!

His punches were getting a lot more powerful with time as he grew bigger and more muscular.  He had reached the point where he had the bag swinging and rattling on its chains.  He’d call me over, “Hey Pops!  Hold the bag for me to keep it from swinging?”  Of course I would oblige him, and I could feel his power with each strike…even with the bag between us.  I would keep my composure in the gym, but I can’t tell you how many loads I blew at home recalling the rattling of the chains and swinging of that very heavy heavy bag…the power transfer of his punches through the bag that pressed against the length of my body and torso.  He mostly concentrated on his form and aim, but FUCK he would at times make eye contact and stare me in the eyes with his power shots!

We’d take breaks and hang out for a little bit and shoot the shit.  I was actually pretty flattered that he saw me as a father figure, asking me for advice about a lot more than working out.  In fact even though I invited him to call me by my first name, he said no, “I like to call you Pops,” shooting me a big grin.  I have to say I preferred it, too, and found it endearing, especially since I had no kids.

Interestingly, he didn’t seem to have an issue with that.  My being single and childless was matter-of-fact with him, and he didn’t pry.  I would talk about my work, my motorcycle riding, my dogs.  He talked about his dreams for his future.  He was leaving for college in the fall and was totally excited about what was ahead for him

We exchanged a couple emails, but that was it.  Life went on for both of us. There would be times when I’d be sexting with a guy about gutpunching and shit, and I’d recall Justin…and those workouts in the gym, and the feel of his power punches through the bag, and blow major loads fantasizing what it would have been like if there wasn’t a heavy bag between my body and his fists.

Justin

Pops and I really connected.  He was like a coach and a mentor to me, though…I wouldn’t say a father figure.  He seemed to take a genuine interest in my development, not just athletically, but personally.  I could sense he had a little more than a casual interest in me, though…and I did like it.  However, when he would occasionally get familiar and call me “Boy,” it stirred things in me that were pretty exciting, but I wasn’t quite ready to explore.

Instead, I just continued working on lifting and boxing.  Both really got my juices going.  The pump in my muscles from lifting, followed by the contact with the heavy bag were my drugs.  I’d dig my fists into the bag, imagining what it would be like if that was a man’s muscled midsection.  I loved the sound of the gloves pounding the leather…I longed for the sound and feel of my fists pounding flesh.  I bet Pops could take it!  I’d look over at him sometimes, wondering what it would be like to punch him, hearing him grunt, “That’s a mean punch, Boy!”  However, bold as I can be, those were just jerk off fantasies at home.  

Reunited

Pops

Twenty years or so flew by.  Boyfriends came and went, although I never found one into the rough stuff.  I was ok with that…satisfied with romance and other stuff.  Each experience was good in its own way.  Maybe it was me, maybe it was them, maybe I’m just too fucking picky, but I never settled down with “the One.”  

Unfortunately, growing old is what it is…I wasn’t lifting like I used to.  Then a thing called Covid made that worse for a couple years of what felt like house arrest.  Luckily, just before the pandemic I had gotten a new bicycle and indoor trainer, so miles of indoor riding with an indoor trainer app kept me in shape.

Enough isolation!   Searching on “gutpunching” and “gut punching” on Twitter, Tumblr, YouTube and other apps I found some hot content.  I then started posting some of my own shit online.

“Pops!  Is that you???”

Only one person ever called me “Pops”...Justin??

I was instantly raging hard and turned on in too many ways to count!

Turns out those looks back in the day weren’t innocent!  In fact, all this time we shared the same fetish!  Even better, he’s not a teenager anymore!  We exchanged phone numbers and I had to call using ear buds because my hands were shaking so bad, and a deep, mature masculine voice answered.

We talked for hours!  He told me about his interest in punching and topping older men.  FUCK!  I shared how turned on I am by being worked over and topped by younger men.  I shared with him my hottest fantasies and experiences, and he shared his.

Ever since I can remember, fight scenes in movies have turned me on.  In particular, there is a scene in a Star Trek episode where Kirk is reminiscing about an upperclassman at the Academy whom he could never beat.  Then, it being Star Trek, Finnegan magically appears with his Irish brogue and impish taunting laugh.  He jumps Kirk and they’re exchanging punch after punch and Kirk is knocked out.  Finnegan wipes at his chin and swollen lip, “Sleep, Jimmy boy!” and break for a commercial.  After the commercial, Kirk revives, they go at it again, and Kirk finally beats Finnegan!  I was even late for my confirmation because that episode came on and I had to run to the bathroom and rub one out!

As hot as fight scenes were to me, it was gut punches that would get me to a raging erection in 0.02 seconds…especially if the man was doubled over…WOOF!  

The original Rich Man, Poor Man had awesome fight scenes with Nick Nolte.  Such a crying shame it was never released on tape or disc!  Nick Nolte’s character was the black sheep of the family with a temper and penchant for getting into fights.  And we’re talking about a young Nick Nolte…lots of scenes in wife-beaters or even shirtless with bulging biceps and ripped abs.  There’s one scene in particular burned in my memory where a guy picks a fight with him at a gas station.  He nails the fucker with gut punches so hard that his fists lift the man off the ground with his body folded over Nolte’s fist before dropping to the ground.  On My Fucking God!

I was not an athletic kid, last chosen for teams, etc.  So I fantasized about what it would be like if I was buff and tougher.  And for some reason, I felt the ability to take punches to the gut was the ultimate in masculinity.  I would fantasize about getting jumped with one guy behind me holding back my arms while the other would work me over with repeated punches to my wide open gut.  In early adolescence, that was enough jack off fodder to cum…gay sex wasn’t even in the picture yet!

Speaking of abs and cumming…interesting factoid:  I had just reached adolescence and was enjoying the feeling of erections without really fully understanding what was going on.  The movie fight scenes along with men’s muscular bodies were causing all kinds of craziness with me, mostly emanating from my dick.  For muscular bodies, my favorites were male gymnasts…WOOF!  Obsession with abs and gut punching led to me doing crunches in my room, really enjoying the rubbing of my erect cock against my pants.  And I mean REALLY enjoying it until I experienced my first orgasm…for real!  

Regardless, I am very particular.  Pro wrestling does nothing for me.  Boxing is hot and real, but very technical.  Boxers were too well trained to react in a manner that turned me on at first, but body blow compilations on YouTube work for me now.  I get no reaction with most martial arts movies…tons of punches thrown, but without the effects I like.  However Van Damme choreographed his fight scenes with more homoerotic suffering.  Basically, what turns me on is the sound effects of the punches landing, one punch after another being thrown, quick recovery from otherwise brutal punches, etc.  Totally unrealistic fighting!  No one fights like that…no one stands there throwing punches without taking it to the ground.  But that fact doesn’t make it any less hot for me!

Sounds are a large part of the eroticism for me.  In the movie scenes, bare fists are very hot, however I remember fuzzy pre-adolescent excitement when Kato (a very young Bruce Lee in The Green Hornet) would smack his leather gloved fist into his palm.  I’ve met guys who prefer punching with bare fists, but in real life, the punches on my abs sound like slaps and smacks.  I prefer the thud sound of a gloved fist against my body.  I have a pair of padded bag gloves I love…minimal padding with a solid thud.  WOOF!

Justin

My interest in lifting and boxing continued through college.  The university had a boxing club that I joined and worked on my skills.  I got pretty good, but accepted I was never going to be a Golden Gloves candidate!  Regardless, it was fucking hot when my punches connected with effect.  I lived for the solid jab that would snap back a chin, but especially the body punch that would cause the man to expel his breath.  Sparring partners got to wearing the belly guard with me because of my reputation for brutal hooks to the kidneys…LOL!

My interest in men continued as well.  And I mean men.  I had no interest in guys my age.  My build attracted a lot of attention, but I continued to be very particular.  I’d find myself attracted to older men when I went out, but was repeatedly disappointed when the book didn’t necessarily match the masculine cover.  

I was also too often disappointed with the leathermen I would meet.  Too often, the leather was just another form of drag.  Also a turn off was the dominance/humiliation or master/sub business.  I wasn’t interested in humiliating a man...I wanted to impress him with my strength and power, and I wanted him to fight back!

  

The growth of the Internet was a pleasant diversion.  I met some guys online into the same thing as me, but they always seemed so far away.  I actually met some hot men, but they were mostly into wrestling.  Though I am more into boxing and never really took up wrestling, I was able to hold my own.  It was really hot when they would get the best of me, though…get me in a choke I couldn’t get out of or pin me.  There were even those who trade pec and gut punches!  Now that would really get me off!

Still, I found myself thinking about Pops often…wondering what he was up to…if he’d finally found himself a wife to give him the sons he deserved.

Opportunity presented itself, and I got a job close to home.  While not the epicenter of gay life, it was familiar and comfortable.  I got myself settled with a nice place and decided to check out Scruff where I was shocked by a familiar face…”POPS!”

I couldn’t believe it!  I would never have guessed!  We called and caught up on what we’ve been up to.  

Holy, fucking shit!  Was the conversation fucking hot!  All this time he was as hot for me as I was for him!  And not only was he exactly my type in age differential, masculinity, hotness, and so on…but we were definitely a matched set!  My cock was raging and leaking a massive stain of pre-cum as he shared his preference for getting worked over and I shared mine for over-powering my coach.  And gutpunching!!!  A fucking dream “cum” true!  

We HAD to meet…and the sooner the better!

The Meeting

Pops

I can’t believe we are actually hooking up!  I’m so fucking nervous like a teenager on his first date!  We both set aside the first available Saturday afternoon to meet at my place.  I have a spare bedroom that I easily made into an empty space to be our “ring.”  

Justin showed up right on time…and time had treated him well!  He filled out very nicely and is even more handsome with mature character lines.  While I like younger guys, I prefer younger men and he has the muscles and beard scruff of a MAN.  

I answered the door, reached out my hand for a firm shake that got me instantly hard (I’m a sucker for a firm handshake) and he came through the door, kicked it shut behind him and grabbed my face with both hands for a big sloppy kiss!

“Wow, Boy!  Looking good, and isn’t that a welcome!”

“Been wanting to do that for a long time, Pops!”

I led him into the living room to perhaps settle a little and so on, but he was ready to go.  Referring to the large, stuffed gym bag over his shoulder, he said, “We had our small talk…let’s get this on!  I brought some gear you might enjoy.”

We went to the bedroom.  He took it in quickly with an affirming nod.  We went through the gear in the bag.  He had quite a selection of wraps, gloves from 8 oz to 16 oz, shorts, and even shoes.  I don’t have a gear fetish like many guys into this scene, so I left that up to him.  We agreed on shorts and jocks with no cup, for easy access (WOOF!) We also decided on 14 oz gloves to start.  He even had a timer set so we could go 3 minute rounds with a minute rest in between.

I couldn’t believe my luck!  Here I was about to mix it up with the man of my years of fantasies!  He’s a good 6 inches or more taller than me with a longer reach to match.  His body is solid as a fucking brick wall!  Peaked biceps, thick slabs for pecs, tapering to a solid shield of abs.  This is by no means a fair fight match up…and that’s the point!  The objective of this bout was discussed very clearly and agreed to by both of us in advance: he is going to wear me down, work me over, and have his way with me.  All of it safe, sane, and consensual with safe words:  “Yellow” I need a minute, “Red” I need to stop.

We geared up, wrapped our fists, and conveniently we both had pull-on gloves.  The timer bell rang and my heart was up in my throat as we touched gloves to start!

Justin

I couldn’t get to Pops’ fast enough!  I packed my bag with all the gear I could fit in.  Like I said, I don’t have a gear fetish, but I wasn’t sure about Pops, and I wanted to be prepared.  I brought some heavier gloves to be on the safe side, but I was really hoping to get to wear my favorite broken-in 8 oz gloves.  They were pull ons instead of pro-style lace ups, but they were convenient for bag work by myself.  My fists were aching to feel the contact against solid flesh.

When he opened the door I couldn’t wait to finally give him a big wet sloppy kiss!  And oh my god!  When he called me “Boy” it was all I could do to keep from shooting my load!

He showed me the room, and it was fucking perfect!  I couldn’t have imagined better!  It was small and confined…much smaller than a regulation ring, so there will be a lot more slugging and a lot less dancing!  A quick look around and I noted the closet doors on one wall and the window on another.  That left two bare walls…walls that would be my “ropes” to pin him against, only better…because there would be no give.  He was going to fucking appreciate my strength and power with his back against those walls!

But first things first, we geared up and I set the timer.  Time to warm up!

ROUND 1

I was going to make this last and be the perfect best time for both of us.  From our conversation, I knew exactly what Pops was looking for, and had the experience to make it happen.  

So I kept the sparring light.  We both got comfortable with the contact.  My punches didn’t have the heat to do any real damage, but I made it very clear I was here to fight and not play.  I put my years of training to use with working him around the whole space of the room.  I was out to impress.  And judging from the look on Pops’ face, I was succeeding!

Pops

We were both taking it easy, lots of jabs and blocked shots.  We both got in some light connecting punches to the face and body to get the feel of our fists making contact and leather striking our body.  Sweat was filming on both of us.  This was feeling like a fucking long three minutes to this old man as my breathing started getting heavy.  Justin seemed to sense the end of the round was coming as he picked up the heat and frequency of his punches.

The bell finally rang, signaling the end of the round.  I was winded, but pleased to have held my own against the younger man.  

“Let’s change gloves, Pops.  This ain’t a fucking pillow fight!”  

With that we switched to lighter gloves.  Fuck…should switching the gloves ate up the minute rest!  Are the rounds really set to 3 minutes?  That first sure seemed longer compared to the rest time!

ROUND 2

We faced off and touched gloves again.  He had a look of intensity but with a devilish smile.  Things were about to get heavier, and I was ready.

“Show me what you got, Boy!  Make me proud!”

Justin

Man was he saying and doing all the right things!  I’d sparred and fought a lot of rounds.  I knew just how much time I had, and I knew just how to pace myself to keep my stamina while wearing my opponent down.  Pops had kept himself in good shape, but I had the clear physical advantage in strength and stamina.  

And I had my favorite gloves on!  Shit was about to get real!  My punches landed with authority.  While we both wore headgear, my jabs would still snap his head back.  I decided to have a little fun and give him a taste of what was to come.  His guard was down, so nailed him with a solid left to his right cheek and whipped his head back around with a harder right to his jaw.  Dazed on his feet, I muscled him up against the wall to give his gut the first workover he craved.

I drove alternating fists into his gut, working his entire midsection.  I was only throwing about three quarter power, though…enough to make him grunt and want to double over, but not hard enough to drop him.  God, this was so fucking hot I had to kiss him!

Pops

The boy was in control the entire time.  I lasted about a minute before my conditioning started failing me.  It was increasingly difficult for me to keep my guard up. His fists connected with my face hard enough to rock me but without cutting me or causing real damage.  To keep from totally losing it, I’d manage to bring my glove up to protect my face.

“Fuck, yeah!” 

He apparently got the reaction he was looking for as he moved in and dug hooks and upper cuts into my open midsection.  Left, right, left again…I was somehow able to absorb the blows briefly with mere grunts before instinctively wrapping my arms around him in a clinch to protect my gut and catch what breath I could.  By this time we were both slick and drenched in sweat, and he continued punching my sides, albeit lightly…mainly as a statement of control.

Saved by the bell, he grabbed my face with both his gloved fists and locked his lips on mine!  His tongue became his tool of attack as his wrestled with mine and our mouthguards smashed together.  If my breath hadn’t been totally taken away by the fighting, it certainly was by the heat of that kiss!  We were both raging hard as well and our cocks battling like swords, barely contained by our jocks.

He broke away abruptly and handed me my water bottle, “Here, you’re gonna need this,”  as he reached for his own.  We were able to take in a couple swigs each before that fucking bell rang again!  That “minute” felt more like a couple fucking seconds.

He motioned me back into the center of the room, his shorts tented by his erect cock, and a look of insatiable hunger on his face.  I was equally hard as I faced him with a hunger of my own.  

We touched gloves…

“You ready, Pops?”

“Give me your best shot, Boy!”

ROUND 3

Justin

He knew full fucking well just how he was pushing my buttons!  Egging me on the way he was and calling me Boy…especially after I told him the effect that has on me!

As much fun as I was having, I was hungry!  I had fantasized stretching our bout out to 5 or 6 rounds, but I had grown impatient and fucking horny.  It was time to make it happen and set the fight up to just what we were both craving.

His face is mine.  His gut is mine.  His ass is mine.  ALL mine!  And I am going to use the whole three minutes to take it all!  

The bell ring and I was totally in the Zone.  All my senses were alive.  The feel of my fists striking his face and body…bone against bone…fist against muscle.  And the sounds!  Better than any orchestra, the thud of leather against flesh…the grunts…the groans…the “Ooof!” of air being punched out!  

And he wasn’t going to have all the fun!  I still paced it so he had enough gas to rock my world.  I could have easily blocked his shots, but I needed to feel his fist slam against my jaw!

“Fuck yeah, Pops!  Fucking PUNCH my face!”

I’d even lift my fists up and wide, offering my abs.  The old man still had the power to make me feel his punches deep in my gut, and the sound of the contact of leather against my flesh followed by my own forced exhale was music!

Pops

The Boy became relentless!  With every punch thrown by his fists made contact with my flesh.  I was able to block some shots, but it felt like cinderblocks had been placed in my gloves.  

Fuck did he know what he was doing and every punch thrown was a fulfilment of years of fantasies!  He would jab and punch my face hard enough to stun me without knocking me out.  He would then work my gut, bending me over his fist. ​​ Then he’d initiate the clinch to keep me from dropping and recover a bit.

His punches to my face landed like a wrecking ball, with follow through that whipped my head around. The force was enough to cause me to taste blood, and despite headgear, I’m going to have bruises tomorrow.

Dazed, barely able to focus on his face bringing mind back forward, he looked directly in my eyes with steely confidence…he knows he owns me and he owns my gut.  He got that same look on his face that he had so many years ago, making eye contact with me while working the heavy bag.

Only now my body was his heavy bag throwing at times just a single solid punch to the pit of my midsection causing me to back up a step.  He’d wait for me to recover…motioning me to advance with his gloves, inviting me to throw some shots.  He could have easily blocked my weakening punches to his face, but he took them on, using then as motivation, as next came a combination of two or three punches driving up my gut striking first my lower abs then ending with a body-bending upper-cut to the solar plexus.

Again he’d rock back, with still a bounce in his feet, giving me time to recover and come at him again.  This time with his guard up, inviting me to work his midsection.  The invitation somehow gave me a second wind as I moved in, driving my fists full force into his gut.  I still had enough strength to get him to grunt and expel air.  He was loving it, coaching me on, “Fuck, yeah!”

Justin

Times up.  I figure there’s about 30 seconds left and time for the finale.  This is what we both have been wanting for years.  It’s time for what we’ve both been craving all our lives.  He’s going to finally submit to a man worthy of it…and this Boy he’s groomed, coached, and promoted is now just the Man to do it!

Pops

He then started rocking my face again to drive me against the wall for a brutal gut workover.  He draped my arms over his shoulders and bent over to get to work.  Alternating fists, he drove his fists repeatedly into my open and unprotected gut.  I was totally exhausted and unable to resist, but man, did he know what he was doing!  He instinctively knew just how hard to punch me to cause the maximum pain without causing damage!  He used his full body in his punches now.  Driving up from his toes, twisting his torso, and using his fist as a battering ram, as his glove made contact with my gut, my abs gave way and caved to the force of his punch, driving what air I had in me out with grunt and a moan.

Justin

I’m in the Zone…I’m in the fucking Zone!  We are one.  We are connected.  There is no more time or space…just us.  My fists.  His body.  My electrified muscles powered by eternal energy.  His strength and resilience.  His pain, his pleasure…

The entire fight has been like a dream, and I was actually living my fantasies.  He spontaneously stepped right into one of my favorite fight scene punching sequences that I blew more loads over than I could count. I saw the haymaker right heading towards my face from a mile a way, and I knew just what to do!  I brought my left up to block the shot and drove my right up and dug into his ribs.  He bent to favor his left, allowing me to hook my left into his right.  Then came the money shot:  an upper-cut right deep into his gut right below his solar plexus, bending him over my fist, forcing his feet off the ground.  Bam, bam, BAM! Just like that…just three punches but quick, precise, and relentless.  I wanted to fold a man over my fist, and he wanted to be punched with the force to lift him off the ground.  And I was the man to make that happen for him!

Before he could drop I caught him in a clinch and ground my raging boner into his.  I whispered in his ear, “I know you wanted that, too!”  All he could do was grunt in return.

Pops

I felt ready to cum without touching myself!  He pushed me out of a clinch and drove another right upper-cut into my solar plexus, and when my knee instinctively came up to protect myself, he batted it down and drove his knee into my balls!  Cornered with my back up against the wall again and no where to go, I became an animal…staring straight into his eyes, urging him on…

”Harder!” 

His punches are getting unbelievably more powerful!  I’m barely able to breathe and the feeling in my gut is at once intense pain and incredible pleasure!

“Come on Boy!  PUNCH me!”

Just as the bell finally rang, he pulled back and released the mother of all straight rights deep into the pit of my gut, causing me to fold like a rag doll, scream, and drop to the ground breathlessly.  

He paced once around the room like a caged animal while I gasped for breath and pulled off my gloves.  He kept his on, lifted my chin, and bent down for another brief kiss of mashing tongues before straightening up and placing his crotch before my face.

I reached out, grabbed the waistbands of his shorts and jock, and pulled out and down releasing his raging cock.  I spit out my guard and looked up at him with my mouth open and my eyes saying, “Please!” Gloved fists behind my head, he held me in place as he slid his cock in my mouth.  Spit started to flow freely as I bathed his cock and sucked lightly.  His strokes got increasingly long, pulling out to just the head, then sliding back in again…deeper and deeper.  I worked on opening my throat to take him all the way down.

My nose in his pubes and his balls on my chin, he held me place enjoying the tightness of my throat.  Just as I was about to signal the need for air, he would pull out and slap his cockhead on my tongue.

“Work my balls,” he said as he freed his ankles from his shorts, spread his legs wide, and stood before me totally naked like a Greek god, save for the gloves still in his fists, resting on his hips.

Somewhat recovered, I felt up his body as I rolled first one of his nuts and then the other in my mouth.  He let me lather his balls for bit before he pulled back.  “I’m gonna fuck that throat good before I nut again in your tight ass, Pops!”

“Feed me, Boy!”

With that I grabbed his butt cheeks as he thrust his cock all the way down in one quick drive.  He continued full length drives of his cock down my throat repeatedly like a piston and sucked and sucked eagerly waiting for his release.  He got closer and his groans growing and thrusts quickening, and I hung on to his ass feeling muscles of a man contract, ready to explode!  His gloved fists started punching my face again…once…twice…and on the third time he screamed, shooting his cum down my throat!

I pulled back a little as soon as he let me…I wanted to savor the taste of the last drops from his cock head, getting off on the continued pulsing of his dick on my tongue.

I was able to hold one last little bit of cum on my tongue as I stood and offered it to him in one long, slow, sensuous kiss that I could have held forever.

Justin

The pleasure of the blow job was otherworldly!  I came with such force it was as if all my insides were exploding out my cock and down his throat! Incredible as it all was, I wasn’t through AND Pops hadn’t cum yet!

I had assured him in our conversation that I was good for more than one orgasm.  And I still had a lot more to prove even after our beat down!  And having cum once already, I was gonna be able to make the fucking last a good long time!

Gloves, wraps, gear were all removed now and we were both totally naked and totally drenched in sweat.  But sweat alone wasn’t enough for me.  I reached in my bag for the Gun Oil, lubed my hands and started rubbing the down the already bruising muscles I had just pounded.

I gave him a full body massage with my hands while lapping up his sweat with my tongue.  Every inch of his body got my full attention and admiration.  But it became time for me to fully claim what is mine.

I lubed up my hands again and started fingering his hole.  He opened up easily for my finger to reach in and stroke his prostate.  He started moaning and bucking back, ready for bigger and better things.

I stroked my raging cock slick with lube, got him on all fours and rubbed the head of my cock against his hole.  The head started to penetrate, so I knew he was ready.  I grabbed his traps with my hands for stability and slid my cock into his guts with one long single stroke.

“FFUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK!!!!”

Bullseye!  First stroke in and direct contact with his prostate!

Time to get to work.  I started with a steady rhythm of pulling all the way out and thrusting all the way back in again.  Over and over.  Steady cadence.  We were both lost in the magic.  But I needed to see the pleasure I was giving!

I pulled all the way out.

“On your back, Pops.  I want to look into your eyes to see the pleasure I’m giving you!”

With his ankles over my shoulders I was able to drink in the lust and passion in his eyes.  When he’d roll his head back and close his eyes, I’d order him to look at me.

The passion of our fucking continued to build and that’s when he started punching my pecs…hard!

“FUCK ME, BOY!  FUCK MY ASS!”

That was it!  I was pounding my cock into his ass so hard balls ached from smacking against his cheeks.

“FUCKING FUCK ME AND PUNCH ME!”

We were both ready and while he was stroking his cock with one hand he’d punch my pecs with the other.  Likewise I braced myself with one hand on his shoulder while my other fist punched down into his already softened gut.

With roars that started from our toes up through our balls and out of our mouths, we both came at the same time!  Unbelievably, my orgasm was even more intense than from his blowjob!  I lost count of the number of contractions shooting my cum deep in his ass.  As for Pops, he shot a load that would have landed in the next county if the wall wasn’t in the way.  Clear over his head and “Splat!” against the wall.  The old man’s still got it!

Pops and Justin

“Boy, I didn’t know I could ever experience anything like that!’

“Pops, I’ve been wanting this, working out for this, for years.  Just for you.  And I can’t wait until the next time!”

“Well, Boy, it’s time you give this old man some coaching, because next time is going to be better and more than just three rounds!”

“FUCK, YEAH!”