Many have been curious for more candid, raw details about our dynamic with Roy, our confident and experienced older bull. Let me share one of the most memorable sessions we’ve ever had.
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It was during a particularly intense phase of Rachel’s cycle; she was insatiably aroused, every touch magnified, every nerve ending alive. Her nipples were especially sensitive; even gentle sucking would send shivers of ecstasy through her. We had been intimate daily, yet she craved more, often indulging herself alone while I was at work. The fire inside her just couldn’t be quenched.
Roy and we hadn’t connected for weeks, so as the weekend approached, Rachel’s yearning became desperate. She asked if a session with him could be arranged. I reached out to Roy on a whim, hoping for a spontaneous visit that Saturday. Initially, he didn’t respond, but then Friday night, his call came. True to form, he teased me mercilessly, making me beg to have him satisfy my wife’s hunger. It was a familiar dance; he enjoyed asserting his dominance, reminding me of my place.
“It’s been a while—thought you forgot about this old man,” he growled.
“No sir, just busy,” I replied, swallowing my pride.
He grunted dismissively, cut me off. “Too busy for me? Now you expect me to drop everything on a whim?”
Knowing resistance was futile, I begged him, “If you’re free, can you come by tomorrow afternoon? Rachel’s been aching for you.”
For a tense moment, silence filled the line. He wanted me to push further, so I pleaded more openly, “Please, sir. I haven’t been able to satisfy her this week. She needs a real man.”
He chuckled, then conceded, “Maybe I’ll clear my schedule, but you owe me.” Often, I help him with favors—moving heavy things, tinkering with his truck. After some back-and-forth, he dropped the act. “Alright son, I’ll be there. Your generation’s a bunch of limp dicks. I’m almost 60 and got more stamina than you.”
That night, Rachel prepared for him meticulously—shaving, showering, making sure her toys were charged and clean. We had been experimenting with chastity; she locked me up as punishment, deciding that if she didn’t climax that night, neither would I, and I wouldn’t be released until she was fully satisfied.
True to his word, the next day Roy’s truck rumbled onto our street. Rachel, dressed casually in an oversized shirt and shorts, met him at the door. Roy, looking rugged in worn jeans and boots, stepped inside confidently. Without missing a beat, he announced, “Daddy’s home!”
Rachel grimaced, “You know I hate that,” but she pressed close to him, wrapping her arms around his broad frame. His large hands roamed her back, and he kissed the top of her head. “You smell good. I heard you wanted me.”
“Ugh yes, I’ve been craving a good dicking,” she teased. We jokingly called their rough, intense encounters “dickings”—rough and primal, not like gentle lovemaking.
Their playful banter turned to heated passion as Roy’s hands slid under her shirt, his fingers teasing her sensitive skin. They kissed fiercely; he pulled her shirt off, exposing her breasts, immediately lavishing attention on her hard nipples. Overwhelmed, Rachel retreated upstairs to the bedroom, Roy trailing behind, shedding boots and shirt along the way. I followed silently.
She lay back on the bed, legs spread, waiting. Roy entered, quickly shedding his jeans and belt at the doorway, revealing the impressive girth of his manhood. He leaned over her, capturing her lips again. His lips trailed down her neck to her pliant breasts, sucking and licking her nipples until she moaned, urging him on. As he worked, his hands slid to the hem of her shorts, pulling them down. She lifted her hips, allowing him to strip the last barrier. Her pussy, freshly shaved exactly how Roy liked, was exposed.
Roy’s fingers wasted no time, seeking out her clit and teasing it expertly. Between his mouth on her breasts and his skilled fingers, Rachel writhed beneath him, her body ignited. He had her completely under his spell.
Once satisfied she was primed, he stood and removed his boxers at my nightstand, where condoms and lube waited. Due to his girth, we had carefully selected suitable condoms—standard ones simply wouldn’t suffice. He rolled on a condom, coated it with lube, stroking himself in anticipation.
Rachel reached for her favorite vibrator, climbed back into position with legs spread and hanging off the bed edge. They always started in missionary; other positions proved too uncomfortable for her. Roy settled between her legs, a pillow beneath her hips to ease entry. Slowly, he aligned himself and began to push in, Rachel wincing briefly as her tightness adjusted. It was as if she was dipping toes into icy water—hesitant at first, then settling.
She placed hands against him, a silent signal to slow. Deep breaths, then she eased acceptance. When he was fully inside, locking bodies, they kissed again. Her legs wrapped around him as she began to grind slowly, acquainting herself with him.
I sat back, watching quietly, noting her fingernails pressing red marks into his broad, hairy back. After a moment, she nodded—he could begin. Roy pulled back then thrust slowly, building rhythm perfectly. Rachel’s face shifted from concentration to bliss, smile spreading as pleasure consumed her. Roy’s pace picked up; strong, relentless, precise. Unlike with me, she never needed to tell him to stop. Their bodies moved in seamless harmony.
Rachel’s actual climax never came in missionary; she preferred to finish on her stomach, toy humming against her clit while Roy entered from behind. She loved the curve at his tip, feeling it hit her sweet spot better than any toy or I ever could. Tonight, knowing she was eager, Roy accelerated the pace, racing toward his own release.
The scene was primal and raw—Roy’s grunts and groans filled the room, skin slapping skin, his balls smacking her ass, the bed creaking beneath them. When he climaxed, it was a full-throated roar, his seed flooding inside her without restraint. He pressed down on her, pinning her head to the pillows, her hands clutching the sheets tightly as her muscles tensed, her moans growing louder than I’d ever heard.
Afterward, she told me how intense it was. She had a small orgasm first, but her clit became too sensitive, and she couldn’t stop the vibrator herself. With Roy pressing her down, head buried in pillows, she was trapped, discomfort turning to overwhelming pleasure until a powerful secondary orgasm overtook her—stronger than anything she’d ever experienced. She felt like she was going to explode, terrified yet exhilarated. Her toes curled painfully from the intensity.
Neither Roy nor I realized this moment’s magnitude then. She lay in bliss beneath him as he continued to ride out his climax, sweat slick and labored breaths filling the room. When at last he pulled free, he pulled the condom off with a snap, dropping it carelessly on the floor. He smacked her ass loudly, making her yelp and leaving a red mark. Laughing, Roy teased, “God damn if Roy knows how to do it right!”
Rachel winced but stayed still, savoring the aftershocks. Roy tossed me a final barb, “Sorry boy, won’t be able to get in there for a while after that.” Then, dressing leisurely, he strode out like he’d clocked out from a hard day’s work.
I accompanied him to the door, thanked him as he loved hearing. On the porch, he turned back and lowered his voice—not low enough for my comfort—“Rachel can call me whenever she’s got a ‘project’ needing my skills.” Grinning cockily, he jumped into his truck and pulled away.
Our ritual dictates that I handle the aftermath and care for Rachel once Roy leaves. Upstairs, I slid into bed beside her, stroking her hair softly while she lay exhausted but content. Despite my own aching desire locked away, she lingered in that blissful state, recounting how she nearly surrendered control, pierced by sensations I’d never yet delivered. Hearing her profess Roy had given her the best orgasm of her life left me humbled and fueled.
Later, I tenderly brought her to another small release with my mouth, cleaned her gently, washing away the evidence of their session. She kept me locked tight most of the day, only releasing me once Sunday came, providing a pity hand job as she remained tender. As she toyed with fantasies of Roy fully unrestrained inside her, she playfully humiliated me until I stumbled to climax. Smiling sweetly, she tossed the tissue in front of me, teasing, “Right where your weak little load belongs.” She blew a kiss before leaving the room, leaving me aching and devoted.
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