Welcome to the Club, Johnny!
-
- 0
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Welcome to the club, Johnny.
I once read in a pick-up artist book called The Game, I think. In it; fat, old, and uncool were getting laid left and right by doing adjustments: tan skin, tattoos, fine clothes, crazy haircuts, silver jewelry, and verbal linguistic manipulation. When an old man was grasping twenty-five-year-old grapefruit tits and spilling a load between the cheeks of the finest California asses, it was all about that feeling of “fitting in”. Being a part of the scene.
I was a smooth bubble ass in a gay gym. Twenty-nine, and my fine ass jiggled in the showers. I would drop the soap and feel the elder’s leer in aching agony. Johnny Buck was eighty, fat, and displayed himself; swollen, spotted with grotesque sweat puddles on the tread mills. He looked sad and when his goggles fogged up and his mouth opened like a cash register drawer, you felt sorry for him.
Everyone wanted to fuck me. But I fucked no one. I just did not want to be touched after I went through an array of boyfriends and one-night stands and I learned to delight myself with no connection to anyone any longer. But contemplating a pathetic, desperate, fat slob in so much pain, alienation, and misery; alongside out of the blue, in the near future, he may be delighted…it intrigued me. I knew he had gifts and a rich soul, but the stereotyping run-through of superficial and destructive epithets gave me a wicked boner. But once that nonsense was cleared out of my own conscious, my short-term wickedness went with it. I was pure to please at that point and bring Johnny Buck into the VIP part of the club.
One Saturday, I got a Brazilian wax. I shaved my entire body in a hot shower at home. I ran the soccer fields for hours. Three doors down from the gym was a club called Roosters. I drank rum and coke and snorted a line of coke by the Pac Man arcade. trabzon escort Johnny Buck walked by behind the backside of posters of beer pitcher deals and into the gym. I followed him and ended up as a treadmill neighbor acting oblivious to his presence.
I could feel him looking as I watched Jeopardy on the TV’s that hung from pipes in the ceiling. I was planning logistics. There where three shower rooms all with yellow drape “doors”. The middle one was barely used because cockroaches liked to handglide from the faucets. But that middle one had ballet room bars over a tiled bench. And the mirrors over the bars would be great for an iPhone angle. I planned to stream Johnny Buck fuck for probably his first time in ten years.
I chose Jonny Buck because of his leering. On the leering spectrum, it was not perverted serial killer stares but more just a desperation from a kissy-kissy hugging bear. What many maniacs don’t understand is that we ‘bottoms” might say we like the take-charge alpha to control us but only in theory. In reality, we are more like female insects, we will gladly bite your head off and have the last say.
I wanted to sound like there was no agenda on my part. I wanted to treat Johnny Buck like a “nothing-nobody” all the way up to his surprise. Almost as if I was a wounded rock star not thinking straight and neither of us knew how Johnny’s neglected cock would be going in and out of me in such a smooth and bad ass manner.
After 30 minutes on the treadmill, Johnny descended into the locker room. I followed behind him about twenty feet. He disappeared behind a row of yellow lockers. He watched me pass him as I went into the middle shower and closed the curtain. I sat on the bench. Two men chatted and I waited from the to leave. I started crying; more just exhaling funky and tunceli escort mumbling to the cockroaches.
The drapes flew open and in walked a naked Johnny Buck. He tossed his towel on the same bench, and gripped a bar of soap. He ignored me and turned on the closest shower head. I decided to be odd. I set my iPhone down and I walked adjacent to his shower head and turned on the water fully clothed. I put my face in my hands and bounced my shoulders as if I was crying. I could hear the heavy splats of water come off Johnny’s fat body.
“You okay,” he said.
“Yah,” I said.
“You know showering is more effective when you take your clothes off,” he said.
“I am so sad, I don’t even think I can manage,” I said.
“From what?” he said.
“My boyfriend. I caught him fucking around,” I said.
“Well that is no good,” he said.
“Nope,” I said.
“Well, I hope you are okay,” he said.
He sounded like a dumb-ass baseball coach dad after he had ten Budweiser’s, but it was cute.
“I want revenge,” I said.
“That is never good,” he said.
“I don’t care,” can you help me?”
“I am not sure if I can,” he said.
“I want to cheat on him, live on cam,” I said.
“Okay?” he said.
Johnny’s voice cracked. He looked back up at his shower head and swished some water in his mouth. I walked over and angled the iPhone on his towel. I started the stream. I looked at Johnny. The whites of his eyes were creamy and vast.
I was soaked in my clothes like a wet seal. I got on all fours on the tile bench.
“All you have to do is grab my ass. Spank me a few times. Feel me up,” I said.
“Really?” he said.
He blinked. He raised his right eyebrow. He was in shock, nervous, but his vibrating mouth cracked a side smile. “Really?”
“Yes. zonguldak escort Please hurry, my battery is low,” I said.
“You want me to spank you and grab your rear?” he said.
“Yup,” I said.
Johnny left his water running and walked over with a semi-hard cock swaying with each step. He put both hands on my soaked sweatpants that outlined my ass. He squeezed. I wanted him to think that is all I wanted.
“That is perfect, Johnny. That will get my boyfriend angry,” I said.
I pulled my soaked Nike shirt over my head. And flattened my palms on the bench again.
“Maybe a few spanks Johnny,” I said.
He squeezed and spanked so softly and polite my cock sprung into a marble form.
“I can’t really feel those Johnny…maybe pull my pants down a tad,” I said.
He pulled them down a few inches and smacked more of my lower back. I decided to yell at him.
“I don’t feel anything Johnny, this is pathetic,” I said.
“You mean like this,” he said. He yanked my sweat pants down to the reddened knee caps. And my bubble ass wobbled. He did not touch. I looked back and smiled. He ran his fingers across both cheeks and then boldly felt me up. Sliding his right hand in between my smooth cheeks, pinching, groping, and then grabbed my cock.
“You know what would make him real jealous, fat ass daddy?” I said.
His eyebrows pointed towards his nose. He lifted his cock. I reached for the iPhone and found the all-time doggy-style porn angle and held it. His cock felt large and rubbed courageously against everything past my outdoor wobbling flesh. The fuck-smacking sound echoed the locker room, louder than the vacant shower heads. His glasses fogged up as he danced in a manner, I have never seen him do. His belly flopped as he anchored his center of gravity low to align himself a perfect rhythmic fuck machine.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” he mumbled.
His cock numbed my body’s nerves as I felt his explosion of warm cum fill me and run down my thighs. I turned around, held his balls in my hand and put my tongue to his. I whispered in his ear. “Welcome to the club, Johnny!”
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin? Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32 Welcome to the club, Johnny. I once read in a pick-up artist book called The Game, I think. In it; fat, old, and uncool were getting laid left and right by doing adjustments: tan skin, tattoos, fine clothes, crazy haircuts, silver jewelry,…
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin? Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32 Welcome to the club, Johnny. I once read in a pick-up artist book called The Game, I think. In it; fat, old, and uncool were getting laid left and right by doing adjustments: tan skin, tattoos, fine clothes, crazy haircuts, silver jewelry,…