After Sex, Alone and Outside

Posted by: Author: Age: Sexy Posted on: 2 comments
2 likes 4424 views Category: Male-Female Tags: sexual memories, handjob, cunnilingus, stroke,

This story is hard to categorize.


Do you older guys remember what it was like to be unable NOT to cum? How hard it was to put off the inevitable and how far it squirted when it happened?

I can remember getting so horny in Junior High School from just looking at a girl's naked, sandal-clad feet in the Spring that I couldn't get rid of my painful hard-on for at least a whole period. It wasn't so long ago that the pre-cum seemed to come from nowhere, and without anything but mental stimulation.

Now for me, anyway, it's the other way around. In my mid-fifties, even with Viagra and a willing wife, it's harder to cum than before. And, though my mind really wants it and my body craves it, it is as though I have to "make" myself cum a lot of the time.

The actual orgasm is better than ever--it's just harder to climb the mountain so I can fall, or let my wife push me, off the other side. Oh, but what a glorious fall it is when it happens! Orgasms at this point in my life are better than ever before, and I am fascinated by and enjoy all things sexual more than ever before.

That's what makes this event interesting. My wife and I had a day off together, which is rare. Needless to say, we decided to make sex a priority, and we did. She needs it more now that she is older, and I make her pleasure my priority. In fact, her pleasure was such a priority that the blanket we used had to be washed after we finished. Masturbating your mate with your tongue is a messy business.

Afterward, as I lay on my back letting her stroke me (a la Venus Butterfly) as lightly and teasingly as possible while she pinched and pulled each ball in turn just hard enough, it wasn't all that hard to cum. In fact, thirty or forty minutes of a good handjob with some serious and devoted ball stimulation while she lets me squeeze her titties and run my fingers into her tight, wet pussy, are enough to get me to the point of "ejaculatory inevitability" without much trouble.

Usually when I squirt as a result of her masturbating me, I aim for her mouth, which she eagerly opens while making desperate sounds. I often hit the target (which she loves and literally eats up), but this time she just got a very wet belly and some pearls on her pubic hair.

Usually, one cum is all I can have, even if I long for more. My body just cannot do it again. Not this time, though:

Later in the afternoon, I had to go do some work in an isolated place in the country where nobody can see or hear what goes on. It was a beautiful, warm Spring day, the clover green and tender, and as soon as I got there, I wanted another cum worse than I have in a long time.

I yanked my clothes off (I hadn't worn many--I guess my body knew in advance what it needed), and immediately felt the Sun's unaccustomed heat on my naked skin. I began jacking like there was no tomorrow. It took a few minutes to come to attention, but it happened soon enough. My body wanted and needed another one. The more I stroked, the harder I got.

I tensed up my toes on the new grass, walked around hunched over with my dick in my hand, flexed my buttocks, legs, and calves, sat on my truck bumper with my legs stiff and spread far apart, making sure the rounded edge of the bumper was in direct contact with the back of my balls and my asshole. I did everything I knew to drive pleasure into my dick and balls.

This was no time for slow, contemplative masturbation. No fantasy was needed--I quickly was deep into every nuance of pleasure, the muscular contractions that heightened it, and cumming as efficiently as possible. It was a time for breaking the World Jack-Off Speed Record. I wanted it RIGHT THEN, and I wanted all of it.

I very quickly got closer to the end and knelt on the grass--more pleasure coursed through my body. The feeling of the new clover on my knees and bare feet, which I curled beneath me in order to give me purchase on the tender grass, got me closer still. I jacked more intensely; the pleasure grew.

As I realized the time was imminent, I grunted and jacked harder and faster. As I did so, my hand became a blur as I fell forward on one hand, so that my weight was supported by the tops of my bare feet, my knees, and my free hand. As I became aware of the the Earth in contact with my knees, feet, and hand, and of the burning Sun on my bare back, buttocks, and legs, my pleasure grew.

As I stroked my engorged cock, the skin of my dick head mushroomed to its fullest extent, almost exploding. The skin tightened to its fullest extent with every strong, downward movement. Over and over, my hand bottomed out hard, making my beautiful penis vibrate with the force. Then the upward stroke let the skin of my dick head relax slightly. The pleasure vibrated and pulsed through my ever-stiffer cock.

When the wonderful feeling washed over me, my toes curled hard, all my muscles tensed, and, thank God, I couldn't stop cumming if I had to! Oh, this one did last for a long time!

As my eyes squinted almost shut with the orgasmic contractions, I squirted out stream after stream of pearly dew. I watched through my eyelashes, fascinated, as my seed flew onto the clover in the mid-day sun, giving it a gem-like appearance.

As the pleasure took me, I screamed my orgasm to the countryside. The voice of my pleasure came at the same time and with the same intensity as the first two contractions. Then I was reduced to mere grunting and moaning through the end.

This precious essence, my manhood and my manliness reduced to a half-ounce of seed sown onto the warm surface of the Earth, was, indeed, like gems to me. Right then, I would gladly have impregnated every fertile woman on the face of the Earth with what I had just so gratefully ejaculated from my throbbing penis!

I wish I had been able to taste my cum. Maybe it was the beautiful pearly whiteness in the Sun, or maybe it was the smell of new grass that reminded me of the smell and taste of cum. It was not to be. It was impossible in the position I was in, and I was too dazed with pleasure to lower my tongue to one of the leaves of clover with a pearly appearance.

Afterward, I wished I could have been the center of a crowd of 100,000 to share the experience. My fantasy saw them all, men and women, boys and girls, paired young with old, and like ages with like, strip their clothes off in response to what they had seen me do and masturbate, fuck, and do all things sexual with as many of either sex as they wished in the hot mid-day Sun. The Sun and Earth welcomed and accepted this as fresh, vibrant, and natural. The Spring air blew gently, scented with the delightful odor of naked bodies having uninhibited, sweaty, messy sex.

I wanted to taste them all, before, during, and after. In my fantasy, they all willingly let me do that, and more: The women all desired my children, and they all became pregnant with my precious gem-seed deposited in their secret places.

Our glorious children were born healthy and beautiful, and all grew up to revel in their sexuality and engage in it freely, as and with whom they wished. As they did so, an approving Sun and Earth looked on, and the Spring air whispered its approval.



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