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Donnie's Domain
Part 1
My name is Mark Westman. I'm a pretty average guy: not a supermodel, but by no means ugly. I am 33, stand about 5'9" with brown hair, green eyes, and a solid, though not defined, frame. I work as a nurse, preferring individual at-home care jobs to those at hospitals or group homes. They don't always pay as well, but they offer more free time and schedule flexibility.
Two weeks ago, I started working for Donnie Harris, a newly widowed contractor in his early fifties. Complications after knee replacement surgery have left him with a long and painful recovery. Most of his immediate family members live out of state so I help out with household chores, daily physical therapy exercises, and the less glamorous activities of daily life while his son took over his company.
From day one, I found myself in awe of Donnie. First of all, he's an impressive physical specimen. He's six feet tall with a salt and pepper buzzcut above gray eyes and Roman nose framed by an impossibly square jaw. His tanned, classically attractive face sits atop well-rounded shoulders that hint at the enticing musculature below. When we first met, I wondered if he needed my help at all.
Aside from being obvious eye candy, Donnie has a presence that is hard to explain. Though he is not overtly emotional, he creates an atmosphere where you feel safe and welcomed. All sense of pretense and awkwardness seem out of place near him. Even usually uncomfortable situations seem to pass with a civility and normalcy that most people can't muster.
Shortly after lunch, Donnie asks me to help him into the shower. With his arm over my shoulder, we hobble to the bathroom where I take off his t-shirt, shorts and underwear and help him into the bath chair. It's a simple contraption that hangs over the edge of the tub and lifts his legs for him so he can rotate in. I get the water ready for him before excusing myself to change his bedsheets. When I return, he is still lathering his midsection.
"Do you mind washing my feet?" he asks.
"No problem," I say and kneel next to the tub. I try to focus on cleaning his feet, but something keeps drawing my eyes to his crotch. It's not as if I haven't seen him naked already. I've helped him dress and undress plenty of times. It's always been very clinical, but what I'm glimpsing now is disintegrating my professionalism.
His soft cock is as long as mine is when it's hard--about 6.5 inches--and bigger around. Instead of simply sitting there fat, proud and alluring, it begins to pulse as soon as I kneel. With each tiny rush of blood, his cock is gaining a little more length, a little more girth, a little more rigidness. Soon he has a mesmerizing nine-inch pillar of flesh jutting from his lap. Time seems to slow down as I stare dazedly at it.
"Can you turn it off?"
"Uh, what.." I stammer as I shake myself back to reality.
"The water," he says. "Can you turn it off?"
"Oh. Right," I say, still blinking away the fog in my brain. I turn off the water and grab the towels sitting on the counter behind me, handing one to Donnie so he can dry his upper body while I start at his feet. We quickly have most of him dry and I try to figure out how I'm going to stand up without revealing the very obvious bulge in my shorts.
As if reading my mind, Donnie says, "Don't worry. Your erection doesn't bother me. I hope mine doesn't bother you."
"Of course not," I say, a bit too eagerly.
"Good. Now, let's get me ready for the physical therapist. He should be here in half an hour."
Still feeling a bit awkward, I hesitate before getting up to rotate his chair out of the shower. I kneel down again so he can lean on my shoulder to step out the chair and stand while I finish drying him. Being even closer to it now threatens to bring the fog back, but I force myself to stand and offer myself as a crutch to get him back to his bedroom.
We hobble back to his room with his dick leading the way, bouncing and swaying like an errant, oversized dowsing rod. I set him gently on the edge of the bed while I grab workout clothes for him to wear. I hand him a t-shirt while I pull his underwear and shorts over most of his legs. I help him stand and pull the shorts and underwear all the way up.
I bend down to put on Donnie's socks when he says, "Uh, oh. I think we have a problem here." I look up to see most of his ramrod protruding obscenely from the top of his shorts. "I can't look like this when the physical therapist arrives. Think you can help me out?"
"I, uh.." I stammer in shock over what he just asked me and the amazing sight before me.
"It's okay. I can tell that you want to. You've barely taken your eyes off of it since the shower. Besides, I've heard that gay guys are really good at it and never had the chance to find out until now." His words were hypnotic. I could sense he was using my own confusion and desire against me, but I couldn't shake his influence any more than I could pull my eyes away from his groin.
"Come on," he says soothingly as he pulls his waistbands down and tucks them under his hefty balls with one hand. He uses the other to wag his cock at me enticingly. "I need this gone before Scott arrives and I can't do PT with blue balls, can I? What do you say?"
To my lust-addled brain, his logic is infallible. Although part of me is screaming in my head to hit the brakes, I can't stop my mouth from forming the words, "Okay. Maybe just this one time."
"All right," he says and opens his legs a little wider. I move in closer and take the base of his dick in my hand. I aim it toward my mouth and give the underside of the head a long, slow lick with the flat of my tongue. Donnie moans above me and his cock rewards me with a drop a sweet, sticky precum. I moan in appreciation as I engulf his turgid member with my mouth.
Though his dick is big, it is not stretching my lips or jaws. Rather, it is filling my mouth to perfection, as if it were custom made for me to suck on. I am taking all but the last couple of inches inside me, not sure if my throat will be able to accommodate his fleshy monster.
Donnie's left hand comes down to rest on the back of the my head, playing with my hair and directing the pace as my face bobs on his dick. His right hand comes down to stroke my left cheek and jawline.
"Oh, God, this is amazing. Suck on my balls."
His cock exits my mouth with a pop, and I maneuver myself to suck up his right nut, which is hanging lower than the other. I give one side of his sac a thorough tongue bath before moving to the other side to worship the other.
"Oh, yeah. Suck those balls," Donnie growls. He continues to tussle my hair while his right hand lightly fingers the underside of his gorgeous, veiny cock. I force myself to suck on his balls for another minute or two before diving back onto his cock with abandon. His left hand never leaves my head, grabbing my hair carefully but firmly, keeping me on a steady pace. It doesn't take long before his breathing indicates he is getting close.
"Oh, God. Here it comes," he says and holds my head in place as he deposits his seed in the back of my mouth. About half his cum goes straight down my throat while the rest floods my mouth almost to capacity as his cock pumps repeatedly inside me. His hand holds me in place even after the spasms subside.
"You need to swallow that. We don't want a mess, now do we?" Seemingly unable to question his order or even think clearly, I swallow the remainder of his load as his cock is softening in my mouth. "Good boy," he says and pats me on the head. "Perfect timing, too. Scott should be here any minute. Put on my socks and shoes before you freshen up. And let Scott know I'm in my room when you let him in."
I move without thinking, performing tasks by muscle memory since my brain can't seem to completely process what just happened. I put on Donnie's socks and shoes and go into the bathroom to fix my hair and hook my still raging hard on under my belt. I grab my things and wave goodbye to Donnie before turning toward the door.
"Bye, Mark. See you tomorrow," Donnie calls to me as I make my to the front door. I nod an absent-minded hello to Scott as we pass outside the front door and I make my way home in a daze.
I don't know how long I sat staring at nothing after returning home. I barely even remember leaving Donnie's house. Mentally, I spent the whole time back in Donnie's room on my knees before him. My vision kept returning to the sight of his massive erection and heavy balls. My nostrils were flooded with the manly scent of his freshly washed crotch. And the taste of his cum still occupied every corner of my mouth.
I finally snap out of it and notice the giant wet spot my arousal has created. I immediately whip out my dick and beat it furiously, cumming all over my chest after mere seconds. The reality of it all starts setting in as I lay there panting. What have I done? Will he tell someone? Will I get in trouble? Will he want me to do it again?
Eventually I convince myself that I simply will not allow myself to be caught in that type of situation again. And if it does head that way, I'll simply refuse politely. Donnie's a reasonable guy after all. I convince myself of all of this as I clean myself up, make a light meal, and get ready for bed. Tomorrow will go right back to normal.
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