Tom had never thought about another man's cock until the night he turned fifty-eight. He and his buddy Rick had been drinking at Rick's place after a long day on the golf course. Both of them divorced, both of them lonely, the whiskey kept flowing until the talk turned raw. Rick admitted he'd sucked a guy off once in his twenties.
Tom laughed it off at first, but his own dick started to twitch when Rick described the taste and the way a hard shaft felt sliding over his tongue.
By midnight Tom was on his knees on the living room carpet, heart hammering, staring at the thick bulge in Rick's jeans. "You sure you want this?" Rick asked, voice low and rough. Tom just nodded and reached for the zipper. Rick's cock sprang out, heavy and veined, already half-hard. Tom wrapped his hand around it, feeling the heat and the weight. It was different from his own—thicker at the base, the head flared and already leaking. He leaned in and licked a slow stripe up the underside, tasting salt and skin. Rick groaned and grabbed Tom's hair.
"Suck it," Rick said. Tom opened his mouth and took the head in, tongue working under the crown. The stretch felt strange at first, but the way Rick's hips jerked told him he was doing something right. He bobbed lower, taking more, gagging when the tip hit the back of his throat. Spit ran down his chin. Rick started fucking his mouth in short thrusts, using Tom's face like he'd been waiting years for it. Tom reached down and freed his own cock, stroking it fast while he sucked.
They moved to the bedroom. Rick stripped Tom naked and pushed him onto the bed on all fours. "You ever had a finger in your ass?" Rick asked. Tom shook his head. Rick spat on his hole and worked one thick finger inside, slow and steady. Tom grunted at the burn, but his cock stayed rock-hard. A second finger followed, scissoring him open. When Rick pulled his fingers out and pressed the blunt head of his cock against Tom's hole, Tom pushed back without thinking.
The first inch hurt like hell. Tom hissed and dropped his chest to the mattress, but Rick kept pressing forward, inch by inch, until his balls rested against Tom's ass. They stayed still for a long minute, breathing hard. Then Rick started moving. Long, deep strokes that dragged over Tom's prostate and made his untouched cock leak onto the sheets. "Fuck, you're tight," Rick growled. He grabbed Tom's hips and picked up speed, skin slapping skin, the wet sound of lube and spit filling the room.
Tom reached back and spread his cheeks wider, wanting more. Rick leaned over him, chest to back, and pounded harder. Every thrust punched a moan out of Tom. He came without touching his cock, shooting thick ropes onto the bed while Rick kept fucking him through it. Rick pulled out at the last second and painted Tom's lower back and ass with hot cum, marking him.
They lay there afterward, sweaty and shaking. Rick's hand rested on Tom's thigh. "You okay?" he asked. Tom turned his head and kissed him, tasting himself on Rick's tongue. "Do it again," he said. Rick was already getting hard. This time Tom rode him, sinking down on that thick cock until he was full, then lifting up and dropping down again, learning the rhythm, learning how to make it feel good. They fucked until the sun came up, switching positions, learning each other's bodies, two older men discovering exactly what they'd been missing.
By morning they were sore and sticky, but neither one wanted to stop. Tom knew this wasn't going to be a one-time thing. He wanted Rick's cock in his mouth and his ass every chance they got. First gay sex at fifty-eight had opened a door he had no intention of closing.
