I’ve had my Android cell phone (and its associated number) for almost 18 months but I’ll still get text messages for “Mac.” Mac must be a big jokester because as I tell these fuckers that I’m not Mac, they never believe me. Never. So usually I begin spouting offensive Gay stuff a straight musclehead like Mac would never say.

I have no idea who Mac is but through all the text messages, I’ve learned about him because folks have asked training advice, asked about his girlfriend, suggested he checked out this or that band, etc.

The other day, I get a photo of a man holding a rather small large-mouth bass. I inform him that I’m not Mac and he’s got the wrong number.

“Sure thing, you Jack-Wagon. Whatever!” He responds.

“I’m not Jack either.” I answer back.

“Okay then, Mr. Wagon to you!”

The guy isn’t getting it. So I go blue: “Unless you’re someone who likes to suck cock, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Not my thing,” he sends back. “But you be proud of whatever you’re good at!”

I hate people who love exclamation points: “I hold my own. And I swallow cum. Do you cum a lot?”

“When I want to!” he responds.

“I fuck ass really well,” I shoot back. “Especially a beefy ass like yours.”

There was a long pause. He seemed to be getting that Mac might not be texting him now. Then I received an apology that indeed, he realized that I wasn’t Mac, that he was married and he thought we were just “joking around.”

“Well, I’m not joking,” I typed back. “I’ll give you the best, most intense time you’ll ever have.”

A pause, then: “My wife takes care of me. You should spend some time reading the bible. The lord can help change your life.”

Fuck. One of those closet cases taking refuge in religion. But I went for it.

“Does she swallow?”

He kept saying how his wife was wonderful and beautiful and took care of him but never answered the question, which I always pointed out. Sometimes these Bible-thumpers can’t help but be honest, even about the most offensive shit like this.

Finally he answered: “No. She won’t even put her mouth there.”

“I would,” I said. “And I’d enjoy it.”

The remaining content fluctuates between his religious guilt and the intrigue of having his cock sucked. I worked the details of my tongue and how it would feel, the sensation and how hard he would cum. How I would savor the flavor. How I would never say, “No,” to his requests.

It took a little magic, but the male testosterone took hold and soon I was driving toward the man’s house. His wife was out of town, thus giving him the chance to go fishing on a weekday. His home nestled near a local lake. I arrived and could see just off to the distance his little boat tied to a dock down the hill from the nondescript house in an older subdivision. A black, shiny Ford F-150 parked in the driveway and a dried-flower wreath on the door.

He answered the door, beefy, solid, dirty blond and about 5-foot-10. He hadn’t shaved but it seemed like he’d cleaned up a bit, wearing a fresh t-shirt and basketball shorts. His handshake was solid if a little hesitant. He invited me in and closed the door, locking it.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Just take me somewhere comfortable,” I said. “Maybe where you can watch porn.”

“We don’t have any,” he said. “My wife won’t allow it.”

“That’s cool,” I said. “Just someplace where you’re comfortable.”

We went upstairs to what I figure was a guest room and he sat on the edge of the bed. I closed the door. On the cloudy afternoon, the blinds and sheers cut much of the light. I knelt in front of him and began to move my hand toward his crotch. He started to move away and say something, but I stopped him.

“Close your eyes, lay back,” I said. “Just relax.”

I resumed my massage as he did as I commanded. Soon I could feel his cock thickening as I reached up inside his leg and touched his cock on the outside of his boxers. It took a few moments before I had him lifting his ass off the bed so I could strip his shorts off him and begin a proper blowjob. He chubbed up to a nice six inches and thick, not too hard but not completely soft. A mouthful. His fuzzy blondish brown hair all over and unkempt. But I sucked him and licked his balls. I varied the speed and worked him all over, licking places he’d never felt a tongue.

I moved my hands up under his shirt and touched his furry chest and found large nipples. One little touch and each stood firm and began to poke up. He even pulled up his shirt for easier access. He moaned and groaned as I began to work him into a frenzy.

But I did not come here to make him happy.

I did pause long enough to come up for air and actually lick his nipples. This was the first time I saw his eyes open and look at the man providing him so much pleasure and then clamp back closed. He kept his hands at his side, gripping the quilt on the bed.

Then I moved south, back to his cock, around it and down to his balls and finally down to his taint, scooping around the back of his legs and lifting his legs up. Before he could protest, my tongue went to work.

Pretty soon I was at his pucker and I worked it over well. He’d indeed showered and the smell of Zestfully clean along with the taste for he’d failed to wash away all the hint of soap. But I kept working the folds and added more magical spit in to filter out the flavor. His hole opened up like a natural bottom’s would, as I knew. And I poked a couple of fingers inside while flicking my tongue across the balls and other places that tickled his fancy.

When I returned to the head of his cock, a pool of precum nestled in the hairy treasure trail and I knew he’d only need one more trip around the world before I’d be able to shove my cock in his ass.

Nipples, cock, balls, taint, ass, taint, balls, cock and nips. By then, I’d pulled my cock out and lubed it with my spit.

When I was at his nipples, I had his legs up and teased his hole. I then replaced it with my cockhead which slid inside easily. When it hit the second sphincter was when his eyes opened a second time and he began to move away.

I was ready for this.

I grabbed his thighs and pulled down.

“No,” he whispered.

“Your cock says yes,” I whispered back.

“But…” he began, almost seeming to cry, but I could feel his throbbing cock — now harder than ever — against my belly.

“Just relax.”

I pushed inside him again and this time past that opening into him. And then I hit the prostate.

He gasped, as if he were dying and there were no air. This time he reached for my legs and actually pulled me toward him.

Natural bottom.

“OH MY GAWD!”

His eyes flew open, but the pupils seemed to roll into the back of his head.

Suddenly a torrent of clear liquid began to pour from his cockhead. I could feel a little throbbing inside his ass. I didn’t want him to cum yet so I remained perfectly still and purred at him to relax.

The tenseness of his body soon left him and I began a small hip motion, rocking my cock a bit and fucking my raw cock inside his virgin hole. As I fucked this little straight boy, I picked up pace and felt him beginning to move in concert with me, but opposite, to allow deeper penetration. His eyes had shut but he was enjoying the experience. I reached down to my poppers, knowing his distraction wouldn’t notice so I could take a firm whiff of them. I did and felt my cum boil in my balls.

I began fucking him like I meant it and he loved it. I spit on my hand as I neared by own orgasm and reached for his cock at the moment when I went blind with ecstasy. My sperm flooded his guts and I loaded him with my DNA as I grasped his thick, rigid cock and began to pump. My other hand found his right nipple and I pinched — a little too hard.

His ass clamped down as I pushed my spunk in him deeper. His first shot came as I opened my eyes. It went over his head, over the bed, across the room and splattered on the wall. The next six or seven came within short order and were less intense, but in the end a string of cum lined from his cockhead to the wall about seven feet away.

As his breathing began to normalize, his hands came up over his eyes and covered himself in shame.

I’d already zipped up and tucked away my softening cock, gently laying him down and leaving him in the darkened room. I didn’t speak to him as I left and I haven’t texted him. He hasn’t messaged me. Yet.

Yes, this is the real photo he texted me (just with the face blurred).

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