Scratching That Itch 6

Last time:

When I walked into the kitchen, after entering through the back door, I found Johan and Abby washing the dishes. He looked at me with a grin, and pointed to my neck. Sure enough there was a globule of cum I had missed. I scooped it up and sucked it off my finger. Luckily Abby had her back to me and turned just as I took my finger out of my mouth. 

"You were gone a long time dad, everything ok?"

"Yup, I just had to make a quick stop at the public toilets. Something didn't agree with me."

Johan grinned and winked.

"Luckily there's always the public facilities in an emergency, right?"

"That's for sure!" I winked back.

Having a bi guy who played around with other men visiting my daughter was fucking with my head. I loved the time we spent in the public toilet the first time I met him. If he wasn’t a potential son-in-law I would have let him fuck me again and again. But I wasn’t naive: if he wasn’t fucking me, he was definitely fucking some other guy or guys. So then why not me as well?

The real question was whether I wanted him involved with Abby, but I couldn’t put a stop to that without disclosing what the issue was and of course, that couldn’t happen. So I silently stewed, wishing it were somehow ethical to be fucking my daughter’s boyfriend. I unblocked him and kept an eye out on Grindr, as well as for the skinheads that had fucked me at the public toilet, but no luck. In the meantime I was going off my head with horniness, my asshole in a perpetual state of aching emptiness, longing to be slammed by a big, hard dick.

It was Sunday and we were at the local church. I was going out of my mind with boredom. The sermon was the same old sad story I had heard for decades. Honestly, if revival hadn’t come by now, it never would. I was getting a headache from rolling my eyes. At fucking last the drudgery was over, the last hymn had been sung and we could repair to the hall to enjoy the one good thing about Church: tea and refreshments.

I was standing at a groaning table, contemplating which goodies to load on my plate. There was quite a crush, the food being the only thing that reliably enthused most churchgoers. The throng of greedy Christians competing for the selection of delectables created a bit of a tussle at times and I wasn’t surprised to be jostled occasionally while I hummed and hawed over my own choices. I was a little startled when an intimate voice I recognised murmured softly into my ear, and a package was thrust into my ass from behind.

“Dagsȇ lekker pappa, hoe gaan dit vandag?” (Hey tasty daddy, how are you today?)

I felt my dick lurch at the impropriety of the intrusion. Then, to my horror, he slid his hand into the pocket of my suit pants and jiggled my stirring cock for good measure. He removed it before anybody could see amidst the wholesale eating orgy that was taking place. He took his place alongside me and chatted to me in a low voice. Not that anybody would have been able to hear in any case as the joy at being liberated from the mind-numbing boredom of the service was obvious in the elated chatter around me.

“I have somebody who would like to meet you,” he said conversationally.

“Really? Who would that be? And what for?” I asked, skeptical that anybody he knew would be interested in meeting his girlfriend’s dad.

“He’s here somewhere. I’ll tell him to come and find you if I spot him. He’s keen to tap your cute daddy ass,” he sniggered quietly, groping the object in question and then making a neat exit, leaving me to contemplate the implications of his passing comment.

My heart was beating with excitement at the impudence of our encounter in the midst of all the churchgoers, and the prospect that there may be somebody that could relieve the itch in my ass which was now becoming quite pronounced at the thought that there may be some action.

But I was kidding myself. My old singing teacher used to say “don’t shit on your own doorstep,” and for good reason. If you expose yourself close to where you live, chances are you’re gonna regret it. I resolved to control my pulsating sphincter and pretend that I knew nothing if Johan’s friend came to look me up. But I decided that any way that was unlikely as he probably never spoke about his alternative sexual interests.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

I glanced up as a handsome, stocky, preppily dressed brunette, with a nice smile slipped in next to me and started loading his plate. Yes, I was still hogging the spot next to the table. I felt I earned it. I didn’t think anything of it when he greeted me amiably.

“Hi there, I’m Keith, how are you doing? Nice spread aye? You from around here?”

“Hi, I’m Kane and yeah, I live close by. And yes, I live for the refreshments after church,” I quipped.

“Yes, they put on a nice spread,” he agreed.

“You should try the sausage rolls. They are the revelation of the day.” I was quietly chuffed at my subtle dig at the inanity of the sermon.

“Not the only tasty thing on the table,” he said conversationally and I looked up from my plate to meet his black-brown eyes, under a pair of truly impressive eyebrows which shot up as his eyes crinkled with friendly amusement. He had the audacity to wink subtly at me and whispered “Follow me,” before turning around to walk casually in the direction of the toilets. He didn’t turn to see if I complied, but just assumed I would be in his wake, which I found insanely hott.

He was shaped like a V, ending in a couple of buns that looked like they could power whatever lurked in the front very well, thank you. His walk was ambling and sexy, his broad shoulders moving lithely under his shirt and his slightly too long dark brown hair just touching his collar. When we reached the gents’ door he held it open for me. When I passed him he had a smug smile on his handsome face.

“Johan was right,” he said cryptically. Weirdly the toilets were virtually empty, with only one old man standing in front of a urinal trying to will his stream to breach the constriction of his prostate swollen by age and too few ejaculations. We stood on either side of the greybeard who finally gave up the struggle and put away his shriveled member to try another time when he didn’t have an audience. 

When he left I answered. “What do you mean, Johan was right?”

“He said you're cock-hungry and would follow me to the toilet. Follow me,” he said and made his way to one of the stalls. Being a church, the stalls were actually separate rooms. He went into one and waited while I squeezed past him, locking the door behind me and turning around to face him.

“Come here,” he ordered softly. There wasn’t much space between us as it was, these little cubicles not generally being designed for more than one occupant. I complied and he put his hand behind my head and pulled me into a kiss. There was nothing gentle about it. He virtually ate my face off. His mouth was wet and hot and he consumed my lips like a hungry man. 

“Hott, submissive daddy. The best kind,” he growled softly into my mouth. He had his hand on the seat of the smooth suit pants I wore and he feverishly worked his questing fingers into the crack where he knew his target nestled. At the same time he ground his burgeoning basket into my crotch, where my own cock was begging for release.

“Sit,” he commanded, and I felt myself forced backward, where the throne caught me behind the knees and forced me to comply. I was now face height to his straining crotch and he forced my face into the bulging sausage that snaked all the way to his hip. It was thick and throbbed like a coiled python. I couldn't stand the suspense any longer and knew my family would also be looking for me not too long from now, so I hastily undid his belt and button, to unzip his fly and release his dick. He wore white undies and the outline of the beautiful penis that lurked within was barely contained by the stretched material. It didn’t take much for me to peel it out of the top to release a thickly veined monster that could barely maintain its erect attitude in the face of the great demands that gravity made on the hefty sausage.

It swayed from side to side in front of my face like a cobra, mesmerising me as I tried to capture it with my hungry mouth. He pinned it downwards and aimed the tip into my mouth. 

“There, daddy, suck on that,” he whispered in honeyed tones and I looked up to see the beautiful uncut head from below, and his smiling face and bedroom eyes behind it. It was narrower towards the tip, and flared abruptly into a thick shaft which made my asshole wink in hot anticipation. He slowly started fucking my mouth and his precum gushed onto my tongue. I was keen to have him slide that bat up my asshole, so, while I sucked and nursed on the fleshy shaft, working the foreskin backward and forwards with my tongue, I frantically undid my belt. 

He was beginning to build up a little steam and slid the beautiful monster past my lips and down my throat, causing me to choke quietly. The shape, narrower to thicker, made it easy for him to find my esophagus and breach that last bit where I was effectively impaled on his dick. He held my head and I felt that exultant joy of having a huge cock down my gullet, with my nose nestled in his dark pubic hair. When I thought I would pass out from lack of oxygen he pulled out and put his hand under my chin to help me to my feet. He turned me around and pulled my suit pants and underpants down with one movement.

“Beautiful ass, daddy, a real prize,” he whispered. He slid his hand appreciatively over what I knew to be the perfect bubble butt, allowing his fingers to graze tantalisingly over the cleft that hid my daddy pussy. I had my hands against the toilet wall and he was on his haunches behind me, his face level with my asshole. He leaned in and appreciatively sniffed at the moist pucker and I felt him pull the cheeks apart as he spent a moment looking at the object of his desire. He reached forward with his tongue and gave it an exploratory swipe, sending shivers up my spine and down my hamstrings. Then he dove in and lavished a wet kiss on my asshole, his tongue wriggling in and out as he sought to open me up for his hard intrusion.

“Oh, daddy, your pussy smells so sweet,” he cooed, and dove in with renewed vigour, worming his muscular tongue in to touch the smooth wall of my inner anus. 

I was aware that we were going to run out of time so I turned to him and over my shoulder said, “Fuck me, boy, you know you want to.”

He stood up and slathered a generous amount of spit on his throbbing cock head, spreading it down the turgid shaft, positioned it at my drenched hole, and slid it in with one smooth, hole splitting movement. He didn’t wait but began to bunny-fuck me straight away, and it didn’t take me forever to realise that his dick was designed to hit my prostate on every punch-fuck.

I struggled to contain my grunts of pleasure as this hunky young man strove to empty his balls in my rectum in record time. He had his hands on my hips and pulled me in to meet his energetic thrusts, causing a slapping noise which, had there been anybody in the next stall, would have been hard to mistake for anything but fucking.

Talking about somebody in the next stall, the bathroom door opened and it was clear that we suddenly had an influx of men with full bladders. Obviously, there were too many for the urinals or one had to evacuate his bowels because the door on the stall next door was shut with a bang. Did this deter my handsome young top? Not a fucking chance, his redoubled efforts punching straight into my prostate and as he ejaculated in me with a silent grunt, holding his position deep in my asshole, I shot a steaming load against the toilet wall, blessing this holy sanctum with a libation that wasn’t one the church would know or admit to, if it did.

He pulled his dick out of my hole in one swift move and left me bereft of the wonderful truncheon that now drooped deliciously, dripping love juice from the obscenely slimy tip. I couldn't resist but went to my knees and proceeded to clean the beautiful shaft and glans of any remaining cum and my ass juices, and the mixture was earthy and mouth-watering. I felt deliciously dirty and he proved he had similarly dirty tendencies as he spun me around and ate his cum and juices out of my hole, leaving me sparklingly clean and ready to try and contract my cunt to get back to the mundanity of post-sermon church life.

“That was fun. Here’s my number,” he said, handing me his card. “Don’t wait too long. I wanna fuck you again soon, sexy daddy.” He kissed me and slipped out of the stall. I waited until I heard a different group of men walk in, flushed the toilet, and went to the basin to wash my face and hands. The whole experience had been so quick and tidy that my hair wasn’t even messy. 

Outside I spotted my wife and Abby and joined them as we all agreed it was time to head home. During the drive the deliciously warm feeling in my ass lips from being fucked so thoroughly radiated right through my body. It was the reason I knew I would need to have my itch scratched again quite soon. No man who has never been fucked can know what that feels like.

Sunday afternoons are lazy around our house. We normally eat leftovers from the week to avoid wastage and dishes and just chill to prepare for the week to come. My wife worked behind the counter at a local cheese shop and she would be on her feet most of the time, so relished the opportunity to do as little as possible. Abby was seeing friends and I could just sit and remember the insanely hott experience of being fucked in the church toilets.

We were sitting in the lounge, both just busy with our own thoughts. I was on Grindr when suddenly a familiar profile appeared.

“Hey daddy, did you enjoy Keith’s dick?”

“Hello, Johan. Thanks for setting that up. He’s a hott boy and I definitely want him to fuck me again.”

“I’ll tell him. He’s right here.”

I decided this was the moment to text the number on the card.

“Hey Keith. Thanks for the fuck. We should do it again soon.” It wasn’t long before he replied.

“Pleasure daddy. Let's. Maybe Johan can join. Spitroast your holes.”

The conflicting emotions that rose in me made me donut the whole prospect, but, as mentioned before, if he wasn’t fucking me, Johan was most definitely fucking somebody else. Oh, what the hell!

“That would be awesome. When and where?”

To Be Continued

Email me with comments / compliments / criticism: