StrappedMan
Jockstrap Fan
The Renter – Part One
The summer I was home from my first year of college I found out that my stepfather had rented out one of the spare rooms in our house to make extra money. A guy named Dan had moved in. I didn’t see too much of him during the week and on the weekends he was usually out during the day.
One of the perks of renting from us was the laundry service. My stepfather gave me the job of doing the laundry. Each Saturday it was my duty to scrounge up all the dirty clothes in the house and plug away at the washing machine.
Dan was too lazy to bring his clothes to the laundry room so I had to gather them myself. One Saturday I barged into his room barefoot, to grab his clothes when to my surprise he was laying in his bed, smoking a cigarette, wearing only a jockstrap.
I stammered an apology and explained why I was in the room.
“Relax, bud. You’re cool.” He said blowing a puff of smoke. He lay on his rumpled bedclothes propped up on one elbow. Construction work had toned his muscular body. The skin on his hairy torso was tanned to a mellow brown and his scruffy face sported a short salt and pepper beard. Between his legs, the jockstrap strained to cover his bulging crotch. I appreciated the mass of his huge cock, the mushroom head outlined under the weave of the jock pouch.
“What do you want washed?” I asked gesturing to the scattering of clothes on the floor.
“Everything,” he said, puffing away on his cigarette. He reached down and adjusted his jock, his hand resting on his furry leg.
I fell to my knees and started shoving clothes into the basket I had brought.
He pointed and said, “Except that.” I had just picked up a jockstrap from the floor.
“Why not?” I said. “It looks like it could use a good washing. I held the damp jock up for closer inspection. A once white jockstrap that had been worn to a creamy yellow. I sniffed the pouch and was inundated with the musky scents of the used undergarment, piss, and cum. I tossed it on the bed.
Dan grinned and picked up the jock. He pressed his nose into the pouch and breathed deeply. “It’s just getting comfortable,” he said. “If you wash a jock it takes a long time to get it to fit just right. You know what I mean?” he added, drawing on his cigarette.
“No,” I said. “I’ve never worn a jock.
“What the fuck?” said Dan, coughing out cigarette smoke. “Never worn a jock. Why the hell not?”
“I’m not into sports,” I answered defensively.
“Fuck sports. They’re more comfortable than underwear. Give it a shot.” He picked up the used jock from the bed and tossed it to me. “Try it on. I bet you’ll dig it.”
I caught it and held it by the waistband. “You want me to try on your used jock?”
“Just do it kid. Your cock and balls will thank me for it. I’ve been wearing that one for three weeks straight. ”
I imagined Dan slipping on the used jock each day before work. Stuffing his manhood into the well-worn pouch before putting on his jeans and work boots. Each day working out in the sun, the sweat soaking into the pouch, the waistband, the leg straps.
I had to admit I was intrigued. I pushed my shorts and underwear down to my ankles and stood wearing only a tank top. I stepped into the jock and pulled it up allowing my cock and balls to settle into the crusty pouch.
Dan stubbed out his cigarette and jumped to his feet. “Let me help you adjust that.” He stepped behind me and fixed a twisted strap.
“Thanks . . .” I began but stopped when I felt his hand slip into the pouch where he maneuvered my package, cock pointing down and centered, before slowly pulling out his hand.
“How’s that?” he asked. His hot breath warmed my ear and his beard brushed my shoulders. I could feel his hairy torso against my back and the pouch of his bulging jock rubbed against my ass.
“Pretty good, but . . .” I trailed off not able to explain that my engorged dick needed some room.
He glanced over my shoulder and grunted with satisfaction down at my rapidly growing jock. He slipped his hand in again and pulled my stiff head up towards the waistband. “Better?” he asked, his moist lips brushing my ear.
I could only nod my head as he slipped one hand under my shirt. His warm calloused fingers pressed against my stomach. With his other hand, he adjusted his own growing pouch and freed his enormous cock. The mushroom head, gooey with precum slipped between my cheeks and pressed against my tight hole. He pulled my tank top off and threw it on the floor.
Slowly he forced his oozing cock inside me, both hands on my hips, as he guided his throbbing meat. When his huge head popped through my sphincter I gasped. He leaned forward and whispered into my ear, “You’re tighter than shit. You ever been fucked before?”
“No,” I said. “Never.”
“Then I suggest you take a deep breath because I’m about to pop your cherry.”
I barely had time to gulp some air when he slammed his cock into my hole. The force sent spasms of pain through my body and we collapsed onto the bed. The pain consumed me and I let out a scream that Dan quickly stifled by shoving his other used jock into my mouth. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my neck, his rock-hard cock buried deep inside me.
We lay still for a moment, his warm furry body pressed against me, his pulsing meat probing slowly deeper. The lessening pain was soon replaced by a sensual euphoria. The salty taste of the crusty jock in my mouth, Dan’s manly scent, the force, and power behind the thrust of cock left me panting for more.
I pulled the jock from my mouth and growled, “FUCK ME!”
“You got it buddy,” Dan said. “Take this fuckin cock.” Dan ground his body against me, wrapping his arms under my armpits and around my neck, like a furry, hung, backpack. His rhythm was slow at first and would gradually build until the pain and pleasure fought for dominance inside my ravaged hole.
Just when I didn’t think I could take any more of his hammering he would slow, press his body close and whisper into my ear. “You got a beautiful tight hole, buddy. I’m gonna enjoy living here. I’m gonna fuck your brains out every night and fill that flat stomach of yours with my hot seed. I bet you’re a great cocksucker.”
Then he would begin again, slowly, building his thrusts until the bed banged against the wall with a rhythmic thumping that only made my heart race more. More than anything I wanted Dan to cum inside me. I wanted the feel of his explosive orgasm. I clenched my hole even tighter and said, “I want your cum, Dan. Give it to me.”
Dan turned my head sideways so he could kiss me. “It’s all yours,” he said, wrapping arms around my waist in a bearlike grip as he shot his load. He shook with his orgasm and let out a low growl of pleasure.
I lay in his sweaty arms, feeling his cock pulsing inside me and the taste of his jock lingering in my mouth when I heard a familiar voice in the doorway.
“I thought you were doing the laundry,” said my stepfather.
I turned to see him, leaning one arm against the door frame, his jeans pooled around his ankles, his other hand cradling the generous package in his jockstrap and a wicked grin on his lips.
To be continued . . .
The summer I was home from my first year of college I found out that my stepfather had rented out one of the spare rooms in our house to make extra money. A guy named Dan had moved in. I didn’t see too much of him during the week and on the weekends he was usually out during the day.
One of the perks of renting from us was the laundry service. My stepfather gave me the job of doing the laundry. Each Saturday it was my duty to scrounge up all the dirty clothes in the house and plug away at the washing machine.
Dan was too lazy to bring his clothes to the laundry room so I had to gather them myself. One Saturday I barged into his room barefoot, to grab his clothes when to my surprise he was laying in his bed, smoking a cigarette, wearing only a jockstrap.
I stammered an apology and explained why I was in the room.
“Relax, bud. You’re cool.” He said blowing a puff of smoke. He lay on his rumpled bedclothes propped up on one elbow. Construction work had toned his muscular body. The skin on his hairy torso was tanned to a mellow brown and his scruffy face sported a short salt and pepper beard. Between his legs, the jockstrap strained to cover his bulging crotch. I appreciated the mass of his huge cock, the mushroom head outlined under the weave of the jock pouch.
“What do you want washed?” I asked gesturing to the scattering of clothes on the floor.
“Everything,” he said, puffing away on his cigarette. He reached down and adjusted his jock, his hand resting on his furry leg.
I fell to my knees and started shoving clothes into the basket I had brought.
He pointed and said, “Except that.” I had just picked up a jockstrap from the floor.
“Why not?” I said. “It looks like it could use a good washing. I held the damp jock up for closer inspection. A once white jockstrap that had been worn to a creamy yellow. I sniffed the pouch and was inundated with the musky scents of the used undergarment, piss, and cum. I tossed it on the bed.
Dan grinned and picked up the jock. He pressed his nose into the pouch and breathed deeply. “It’s just getting comfortable,” he said. “If you wash a jock it takes a long time to get it to fit just right. You know what I mean?” he added, drawing on his cigarette.
“No,” I said. “I’ve never worn a jock.
“What the fuck?” said Dan, coughing out cigarette smoke. “Never worn a jock. Why the hell not?”
“I’m not into sports,” I answered defensively.
“Fuck sports. They’re more comfortable than underwear. Give it a shot.” He picked up the used jock from the bed and tossed it to me. “Try it on. I bet you’ll dig it.”
I caught it and held it by the waistband. “You want me to try on your used jock?”
“Just do it kid. Your cock and balls will thank me for it. I’ve been wearing that one for three weeks straight. ”
I imagined Dan slipping on the used jock each day before work. Stuffing his manhood into the well-worn pouch before putting on his jeans and work boots. Each day working out in the sun, the sweat soaking into the pouch, the waistband, the leg straps.
I had to admit I was intrigued. I pushed my shorts and underwear down to my ankles and stood wearing only a tank top. I stepped into the jock and pulled it up allowing my cock and balls to settle into the crusty pouch.
Dan stubbed out his cigarette and jumped to his feet. “Let me help you adjust that.” He stepped behind me and fixed a twisted strap.
“Thanks . . .” I began but stopped when I felt his hand slip into the pouch where he maneuvered my package, cock pointing down and centered, before slowly pulling out his hand.
“How’s that?” he asked. His hot breath warmed my ear and his beard brushed my shoulders. I could feel his hairy torso against my back and the pouch of his bulging jock rubbed against my ass.
“Pretty good, but . . .” I trailed off not able to explain that my engorged dick needed some room.
He glanced over my shoulder and grunted with satisfaction down at my rapidly growing jock. He slipped his hand in again and pulled my stiff head up towards the waistband. “Better?” he asked, his moist lips brushing my ear.
I could only nod my head as he slipped one hand under my shirt. His warm calloused fingers pressed against my stomach. With his other hand, he adjusted his own growing pouch and freed his enormous cock. The mushroom head, gooey with precum slipped between my cheeks and pressed against my tight hole. He pulled my tank top off and threw it on the floor.
Slowly he forced his oozing cock inside me, both hands on my hips, as he guided his throbbing meat. When his huge head popped through my sphincter I gasped. He leaned forward and whispered into my ear, “You’re tighter than shit. You ever been fucked before?”
“No,” I said. “Never.”
“Then I suggest you take a deep breath because I’m about to pop your cherry.”
I barely had time to gulp some air when he slammed his cock into my hole. The force sent spasms of pain through my body and we collapsed onto the bed. The pain consumed me and I let out a scream that Dan quickly stifled by shoving his other used jock into my mouth. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my neck, his rock-hard cock buried deep inside me.
We lay still for a moment, his warm furry body pressed against me, his pulsing meat probing slowly deeper. The lessening pain was soon replaced by a sensual euphoria. The salty taste of the crusty jock in my mouth, Dan’s manly scent, the force, and power behind the thrust of cock left me panting for more.
I pulled the jock from my mouth and growled, “FUCK ME!”
“You got it buddy,” Dan said. “Take this fuckin cock.” Dan ground his body against me, wrapping his arms under my armpits and around my neck, like a furry, hung, backpack. His rhythm was slow at first and would gradually build until the pain and pleasure fought for dominance inside my ravaged hole.
Just when I didn’t think I could take any more of his hammering he would slow, press his body close and whisper into my ear. “You got a beautiful tight hole, buddy. I’m gonna enjoy living here. I’m gonna fuck your brains out every night and fill that flat stomach of yours with my hot seed. I bet you’re a great cocksucker.”
Then he would begin again, slowly, building his thrusts until the bed banged against the wall with a rhythmic thumping that only made my heart race more. More than anything I wanted Dan to cum inside me. I wanted the feel of his explosive orgasm. I clenched my hole even tighter and said, “I want your cum, Dan. Give it to me.”
Dan turned my head sideways so he could kiss me. “It’s all yours,” he said, wrapping arms around my waist in a bearlike grip as he shot his load. He shook with his orgasm and let out a low growl of pleasure.
I lay in his sweaty arms, feeling his cock pulsing inside me and the taste of his jock lingering in my mouth when I heard a familiar voice in the doorway.
“I thought you were doing the laundry,” said my stepfather.
I turned to see him, leaning one arm against the door frame, his jeans pooled around his ankles, his other hand cradling the generous package in his jockstrap and a wicked grin on his lips.
To be continued . . .
