Climbing Machu Picchu

"Oh, shit, Oh fuck!" Bob was on his knees behind him, spreading his butt cheeks, rimming his asshole with his tongue, sticking it inside him.

And then the gigantic bulb of that monster cock was at his entrance, pressing in and out, testing him. And then it was entering him, relentlessly, as he writhed under the assault, thick and deep. Alex was gripping gobs of the chenille bedspread over his head with his fists and crying out. "Oh fuck, oh fuckkk! Go slow. Oh, shittt! Yes, Yesss. Fuck me!"

His eyes saw the folded sock, and he grabbed for it and stuffed it in his mouth, clamping down on it with his teeth, as Bob started to ride him hard and deep.

Later, Bob took him a second time, with Alex lying on his back, Bob holding his legs extended up and out, as Bob took him slower, exploring for and finding all of those niches and crannies inside Alex's channel that made him quiver and groan.

Then Alex lay there, moaning and sighing, as he watched Bob go to the bathroom. Alex didn't move—couldn't move as totally as he had been fucked by that big cock—while he listened to the shower. It wasn't long before Bob was back out of the bathroom, drying himself off. Still looking good for a seventy-year-old man, especially so in the dim light. His cock flaccid now, but hanging low.

"That was good," Bob said at last as he was pulling his shorts on. He hadn't been wearing briefs. "You're a good lay. You should be using your body, not holding it back. That's experiencing, not just observing. That's what you really came to Key West for, isn't it?"

Alex murmured something, he didn't know what. He still wasn't sure that's what he'd come to Key West for, but he couldn't disagree that that was what he wanted—what was missing in his life. He couldn't say he wasn't glad that he had gotten it.

Bob walked over to the table in front of the curtained window and picked up the travel guide. "Been looking at the tours again? Thinking of climbing Machu Picchu rather than just flying over it to see it?"

"Yes, maybe," Alex answered in a small, exhausted voice. His channel walls were throbbing. They wanted it again. To his embarrassment, if Bob told him he was going to fuck him again, now, Alex would have been exhilarated. He would have opened his legs and pull Bob's cock deep inside him. But Bob didn't do that. He was finished. He had made his point.

Bob sat down in the chair and picked up a small motel pad of paper and a pen and wrote something down. Then he pulled off the sheet of paper, folded it, and put it in Alex's wallet, which was still laying on the table.

"There," he said. "I know a guy in Lima. I think you'd enjoy him; I know he'd enjoy you. In case you want to continue experiencing and not only observing. In case you want to feel as young as I do when you are as old as I am. I think you can vouch now that I'm not past it."

Alex moaned. He certainly could. Again, his brain was screaming, Come over here and fuck me again. Put that huge cock up inside me and pump me to heaven.

"He's younger than you. But he has a big cock. I think we both know you want a big cock."

Bob stood then and put his hand on the doorknob. "Have a good time in Peru. You can find me anytime you want to come back to Key West. You're a good lay, Alex. Don't ever think you are past being wanted. Oh, and . . ." he continued as he opened the door and moved into the open space, "just to let you know, you didn't leave your wallet in the bar. I lifted it from you. I wanted to fuck you. Remember that. There are still men out there who will want to fuck you—for years more. We all die sometime. Don't do your dying before they start to shovel the dirt over you."

Alex's gaze went over to his wallet after Bob had gone. He already knew that he wouldn't be tossing out that slip of paper with the Lima contact address written on it.