Next Sunday: The Neighborhood Slut

I take my clothes off, get on all fours, crawl around--my ass faces him, and arch my back.

"That pussy looks used," Nick says, rubbing his fingers on my swollen ass lips.

"Two loads already," I say, knowing that he's fucked me with more loads inside me. He loves fucking my pre-loaded ass even more than Ulrich does.

Nick fingers me, probing my rectum, squishing the cum around my insides. He removes his fingers, and I hear lips smack. I crane my neck over my shoulder to see him sucking his fingers. He's never done that before, and I could swear I'm leaking pre-cum onto his floor.

I've only asked Nick once if he's bi, and his answer was a simple, "Does it matter?" To which my answer was to continue sucking his cock.

"Whose is it?" Nick asks.

I probably should maintain discretion, but he's never asked before nor tasted the loads inside me, and I'm so turned on that I find myself saying, "Ulrich and Mike," before rational thought comes. I rarely tell the truth, but Nick deserves it.

"That ass was made for multiple loads," he says as I turn my face away. I couldn't agree more.

Nick's told me before that he's only interested in slutty women (I think he meant men too). He only wants to date girls who need loads of cum from different guys x he said he would never fuck only one person for the rest of his life and that monogamy is a sham and life is too short not to have the sex you want. A wise man at such a young age.

He takes his solid arms and hooks them around my thighs. He pulls me towards him, hoisting my air in the ass so my hard cock leaks pre-cum on his firm chest. I rest my palms on the carpet and tuck in my chin to see his balls tight against his body and hard dick hanging towards the floor.

I don't know what's gotten into Nick, but he's extra hungry today. He licks my freshly shaven asshole. The stubble on his boyish face tickles my crack while his tongue laps up the previous fucks' wetness, like a dog laps up water.

He then flicks my hole, his breath so hot that I begin to loosen and open for the tip of his tongue, which he uses to prove the walls of my anus.

I moan, and he moans, and neither of us knows if we're too loud.

I hear a door open in the distance. Nick's bedroom isn't visible to the living room (I know from experience), but sound carries easily.

"Babe?" A woman's voice calls from the dark hallway.

"Yeah?" Nick answers from between my cheeks. I'm surprised he doesn't stop, but his tongue feels more forceful, deeper, and I wonder how I won't make a sound just now.

"I need more of you," the voice says coyly. "My kitty needs some breakfast."

I smirk and feel the precum gluing my cock to his chest. What a fucking stud.

"Gimme ten," he says and licks the length of my crack.

"What're you doing?" She hollers.

Nick forces his tongue inside me. I take a sharp breath, appreciating his soft warmth before he pulls out. "Nothing, just give me ten."

I look back at Nick; his smile scrunches his eyes. He looks positively evil.

"Share some of that. It's okay, boy. Squeeze it out," Nick whispers in a hurried voice.

Countless times have men wanted to felch a load out of my ass. I would never have imagined that Nick, such a straight-presenting man's man, would be one to ask. But sex is a weird and wonderful thing that always surprises. And that's why I have tons of it, despite being married.

I expand and contract my hole, positioned so that gravity works against me, and push some out. I feel the liquid inch down my taint; the squelching sound of my hole leaking is faint. A hungry mouth is on me.

Nick moans as if he'd just had the most delicious dessert. "Slutty, slutty boy."

In one athletic motion, he manages to flip me onto the couch and position his cock on my hole while holding my legs up in missionary.

Although he must be ten years my junior, he calls me "boy" again and tells me to open up to him. I push my pussy lips out to welcome his bare cock into me for the fortieth time.

He fucks me, slow, long, and steady. He moans while I whimper. He leans over me, his hips slowly gyrate as he lowers his chest to mine. I feel his cock push into my prostate, then past it. Not as far as Mike, but far enough for my colon to welcome his cock head.

"Are you my little gay slut?" He whispers into my ear.

I nod, speechless.

He thrusts more. And what he asks me next nearly makes me cum as his abdomen rubs against my dick: "You think she'll like the taste of your ass as much as you liked the taste of her pussy?"

Uncontrollable, I moan, much louder. Nick puts his hand over my mouth and shoves his cock as deeply as possible.

The bedroom door opens again. "Nicky?"

"Almost done," he hollers, picking up the pace. His cock slides in and out faster now, wet from Mike and Ulrich's cum.

"What're you doing?" The anonymous woman asks in a petite tone.

"If you just wait right there," Nick says and fucks me faster. He tries to control his breathing to sound normal. His voice bellows in my ear while his hand covers my mouth. I feel his finger close to my nose. It smells like my pussy. Sweat gathers between our bodies. "I'll be there in a minute."

"It's already been ten minutes, Nicky." I can't believe how dumb she is--just standing in the doorway. But I'm not complaining. In these moments, I can feel the presence of my wedding ring, the betrayal becoming tingling sensations overcoming my body. My hair stands on end as I struggle to keep quiet.

"Coming!" Nick's vocal cords tighten around the world as he plunges into me. His cock is pulsing, and he fills me to the brim with another injection of DNA. I'll give him credit for not lying to her.

As he filleth my cup, I fight the urge to jerk off. I have plenty more opportunities, though I can't imagine how anything could live up to "Nicky's" pigginess today.

Nick pulls out and throws his boxers back on. "Who's next?"

I look at my watch. 9:17. It's been nearly 25 minutes. Half the day is gone, and I've got five more houses left before Rick gets home at around 11. Today has been so exciting, thanks to Nick, but I must keep to my schedule.

"Ivan." I gesture to the house across the street, on the other side of Harry the Bigot.

Nick nods; his face looks both surprised and approving. Instead of commenting, he looks at me innocently and asks, "Should I clean up before I go in there?" He grabs the half-soft bulge in his boxers.

"No." I shake my head.

"Right answer." Nick hugs me. Deep down, he's a sweetheart and always ends our meet-ups with an embrace. "Next Sunday?"

Before I open the door, I echo him.

"Tell Rick I say hi." Nick scoffs and turns to the bedroom for what will be fuck #3 for him.

I check to see if the coast is clear. Mike is mowing his lawn, Harry's wife has returned from church, but she's inside. I don't see any neighbors, and I'm not worried about Mike. He keeps to himself unless he needs to release a nut.

Ivan is a little younger than me. He inherited his house from his mother, who passed away a couple of years ago. Ivan's a loner, an introvert, and desperately wants a girlfriend. He claims he's not into hook-ups but seemed to take me in rather quickly as a weekly friend with benefits.

Ivan and I rarely talk. What I know about him is what I've learned in bits and pieces from other neighbors or him in short, awkward conversations.

He wears dark-rimmed glasses that shroud eyes that never make contact with other humans and has a long face with a strong chin and stubble. He's incredibly skinny and has thick dark hair that covers his entire torso. Since he's practically celibate, he never trims, with which I'm entirely okay.

He's not a man who turns heads, but his shyness can sometimes be disarmingly charming. We had agreed to leave the door unlocked. He never has any plans and is always home, so I don't make an effort to come over at the same time each week. Today I decided to fit him in earlier. It's 9:19 when I walk in.

I say hi, and he stands from the couch. He doesn't say anything, but this is his awkward way of greeting me. Each time it makes me smile.

His eyes only scan high enough to peek at my wedding ring. Months ago, after chatting on the apps, I met up with him and gave him the rim job of his life. After we dressed, he asked without looking at me, "Are you in an open marriage?"

"No," I said with confidence.

"Okay."

And that was that.

Without saying a word, Ivan takes off his clothes as we do every Sunday. His house is devoid of most things. He lives minimally, and though you could say it's a bachelor pad, it isn't messy enough to be characterized as such.

I love looking at this man. He's stick thin, wears a forest of hair, and has one of the biggest cocks on the block. He's already hard when he removes his shorts and shirt. I surmise that his cock is as thick as a can of Pringles and a couple of inches shorter than a paper towel roll. His cock skin stretches tight, and I swear I can see every vein fill with blood.

Ivan's balls are huge, and they hang incredibly low. He's an absolute king in the crotch department, but no one would ever know.

The only disappointing thing about Ivan is that he only wants two things from me: 1) to rim his ass and 2) to swallow his cum. I'm always happy to eat an ass. Although Ivan is straight, he'd assured me he's compulsively clean about everything, which is why he requested that I swallow his cum. It would otherwise make a mess.

Instead of returning to the couch, he sits on the loveseat, like every Sunday. Ivan's so skinny that he doesn't need to spread Eagle to reveal his hole to the open air. He rests his heels on the edge of his seat, and his hole: is served.

Today I tell him, "I'm kind of in a hurry so that we might make today a fast one."

Ivan nods, looking at his phone. Knowing his type, it might not even be porn--maybe just a game.

His balls hang so low that they nearly cover his preposterously hairy sphincter. I stick my face in his crack, his balls resting on the crest of my nose. I breathe him in, and he smells as fresh as Spring rain.

I kiss his hole as if it were a sweet pet. I don't know if he likes this, but he doesn't complain. I begin to make out with his hole as if it were Rick passionately kissing me while unknowingly fucking other men's loads out of my ass.

Ivan gives no signal that he's enjoying this, aside from the most important one: stroking his cock. His grip angles it to point like a steel beam to the ceiling. I lick his balls. Although that's not part of our agreement, I seem to get away with it if I don't do it too often. They taste salty. I lift them with my nose to see how deep I can get inside this nerdy stud.

His hole is tight, but I breathe hot air into it. Increase the blood flow and allow it to loosen. I bring all my saliva to the front of my mouth and deposit it with a duck-lipped kiss.

I take my tongue and move the saliva into the folds of his anus. His flesh, rubbery and tight, resisted my tongue at first, but after a few moments of pressing with the strongest muscle in the human body, I felt the walls of his insides.

Ivan never moaned or spoke when I ate him out, but I knew I was doing the right thing when his breathing became more harried like it is now.

He pushed out a bit, letting my tongue explore him further. You'd think an awkward, hairy nerd would be zit-faced and smelly, but his ass was as pristine as crystal. He tastes incredible.

I begin to tongue fuck fuck. I ram my face into Ivan's crack and hit my target each time. I have to hold his ballsack to the side to keep from hitting them with my forehead. His breathing speeds up, and I know we're close.

I hold his balls with one hand and my bulging cock in my shorts with the other hand. I thrust my tongue in him one more time. His sphincter loosens, and he's suddenly gaping. I stretch my tongue further than before and keep it there, wriggling.

Ivan gasps. He never gasps. Today proves to be special, and I intend to capitalize on it.

I spend a few more seconds inside him before he sets down his phone and focuses on jerking his monstrous cock with both hands. I let go of his balls so they can rest on my face again while I taste Ivan's insides.

"I'm gonna cum," he says. Ivan never speaks. He usually stands up, and I know that's my cue to open my mouth and let him empty his balls with his dickhead on my tongue.

Ivan stands up this time too. His face reveals immense pleasure, more than I've ever seen in his otherwise expressionless demeanor. Fuck it, I think.

With one hand on my cock, I take the other and place it on his taint. I rub the hairy skin bridge while he jerks and eventually find his hole. With one finger, I press into it.

I open my mouth while Ivan's hands move along the length of his cock. His hole is still wet for my tongue, so it practically slides in when I finally push a finger against his lips.

Ivan gasps, his face contorts, and my finger has found its way to his prostate. He stops jerking himself and pulls his hands down to the base of his cock as it swells up. He's going to blow.

I massage the firm flesh with the tip of my finger while his anus tightens around the skin between knuckles. Fuck it, I think again, and instead of waiting for Ivan to blow, I practically unhinge my jaw and take his cock in my mouth.

Ivan's knees shake, and he begins spewing cum that I'm struggling to swallow. There's a lot of it, and it's coming fast; the pulsing expansion of his cock stretches my lips, feeling the sheer force of his orgasm. Ivan removes his hands, moans as if he's finally sated the itch of a mosquito bite, and I open my throat to show off my skills.

Now that his fists aren't wrapped around his pole, I dove down. The girth and rigidity of his dick fill my throat as I press my nose into his pubes. He yells unintelligibly while his cock pumps cum straight down my esophagus and into my stomach. It feels endless, and if I weren't in such a hurry, I'd stay present and enjoy the moment.

I wait for what seems like ages for his cock to stop pulsing. Ivan only cums in my mouth because it's the cleanest way of dropping a load, so I need to prove to him that shoving his cock down my throat can be just as tidy.

When Ivan's done shaking and pulsing, I slowly back my head up, making sure to suck up my saliva on the way, and I pull my finger out of his ass. Ivan collapses on the couch and shakes his head as if to wake himself up.

"Thanks," I say. I stand up. There's a wet spot on my shorts. Precum. I've taken my fifth load of the day, but there's more to come.

"Next Sunday?" Ivan asks. His eyes, magnified by his thick glasses, are on my bulge, which I've never seen him do.

Surprised by his talking, I stammer and say, "Uh, yeah. Yep," and leave out the front door.

I skip a few houses and walk to the end of the block. My cock is swinging in my shorts now. Still, it's a hot summer morning, and everyone seems to be inside enjoying their AC, so I don't have to worry about anyone noticing my erection or visibly pooled precum on the fabric.

At the end of the block, opposite Rick and me, is Orville.

Orville is old. He told me he'd be celebrating his 80th in a few years and kindly invited me to the party when it happens.

Orville's been married to his wife for nearly 50 years, and he was not faithful for a moment. He'd been caught a few times, but his wife stayed for the kids, he'd said. He claimed they were in love, even after all these years, but never thought monogamy was reasonable to ask of anyone, even in a set of vows.

He and his wife raised two boys, and When they were old enough, Orville told them the ways of living life to its fullest: love someone with your whole heart, fuck everyone your entire life.

Orville seemed to be plucked out of an era gone by. He had said he never entertained adding men to the rotating door of cheating partners until he learned of porn on the internet. He realized that gay men were like straight women in that they liked having sex with men, but they were like straight men who really enjoyed having sex.

For the past 20 years, Orville sought out both men and women to make him feel like the philandering, 1950s king-of-the-household that he was. And he has no qualms about his sexuality--he says it doesn't matter and that Orville will die regardless, but at least he'll die drained and happy.

As he's gotten older, Orville doesn't have the same stamina--his legs have weakened, his hips stiffer, and he tires more easily. But the man has a cock that will never stop working.

Depending on his energy, I'll ride him in his recliner while his wife is out with friends for Sunday brunch or suck him off. I never know until I get there.

It's 9:33 when I lift my hand to knock on the door. The door opens before my knuckles make contact, and there stands Wilson, Orville's son, who's been called "Willie" throughout his adult life.

"Hi Jude," Willie says, "Dad's been looking forward to this all weekend."

As Willie leads me through the house to the family room, he tells me his wife and his mom have gone to a spa for the weekend and that he's here to take care of his dad.

I've held this bit of information because it's taboo, but I should tell you that it was Willie who found me for Orville. Orville had no interest in using a smartphone and would never be able to find his way around hookup apps and all of the implicit rules and etiquette that comes with it. Willie, however, was in his 50s and still had his wits about him.

So, being the son of Orville, Willie got on the app and found me. He shared his father's cock pics with me, told me the situation, and that, given my relationship status on my profile, he thought I'd be fine helping out a married man every now and then. And the rest is history.

But Willie's never been here before when I've come by, only Orville's wife, and she's asleep.

Willie and I walk into the family room to find Orville in his chair, his pants around his ankles, his cock in his hand, jerking off to porn on the TV.

"Dad, come on," Willie shrugs his shoulders and sticks his palms out. "Can't you wait?"

"Does it look like I can wait?" he quips.

They have a strange relationship, but Orville is a peculiar guy. "Hey, buddy. You need a hole for that thing?"

I feel weird saying this in front of Orville's son, but he's the one who took and sent his father's dick pics, so I'm technically the normal one here.

"What's it gonna be today, sir? I ask casually, standing in front of him. His hands are wrinkly, and his face drops a little, but he's still an attractive man. His blue eyes sparkle, and he still has gray hair.

"Need my cock sucked," Orville says.

"Right on it," I say, getting on my knees and spreading his legs apart. The skin on his cock, which is skinny and about as long as Nick's, is taut. His balls hang as low as Ivan's in a wrinkly, almost hairless nutsack. I'm so blessed to have a variety of bodies at my disposal every week.

I know how Orville likes it, and I immediately take the length of his cock down my throat. I constrict my mouth and lips around it, taking advantage of its pencil shape.

"That's a good queer," Orville moans. He doesn't mean it derogatorily, like Harry--he's just an old man who doesn't know any better.

I start sucking this sweet old dude earnestly while his face contorts in pleasure.

"Goddamn." I hear Willie's voice. I'd completely forgotten he was there, savoring the taste of my 6th Sunday dick.

My eyes clap on Willie while I'm sucking his father. The middle-aged man is standing with his cock out. It's nothing like his dad's--slightly shorter but thick as a beer can. His shirt's hem is pulled over the back of his neck. He has a beer belly, but he's tight and smooth--a picturesque dad bod with thick arms and rough hands, one of which strokes his cock in a firm fist.