Hello. How lucky I am have to found you.
Faustus is the name. Sin is my game. But not just any sin – I love dirty, delicious lust. The sinful thoughts that cross your mind as you drool over abs or ass. The intense desire to see all those forbidden parts you crave. Some of my brothers and sisters just want your soul. I can be happy with far less.
So, I wander the Earth, finding those full of lust and I find a way to get what I want. Women are fun, sure. But men? Men are animals. Have you ever watched a hungry man eat? They greedily rip and tear at their food – eager to fill their mouths. The intense need and the desire to meet it surge through them, totally uninhibited. And that’s how they like their sex – the wild, intense ecstasy sizzles. And the sin? It pours from them, especially in the brief, beautiful afterglow as they come back to themselves.
And there’s no sin more savory then a man indulging his deepest, darkest desire. And for most of them, that’s one thing – another man. Oh, if they’re honest with themselves, they know another man is what they want – whether it’s to fuck or be fucked by. No woman, even their absolute most beautiful, knows how to please a man like another one. And, for almost all of them knowing this but never really acknowledging it, it’s also one of the most sinful things they can think of.
Enter me. I just find a guy and get him to feed me – sometimes at a crossroads but just about anywhere. I simply watch and piece it all together, and then, I make them an offer they can’t refuse. Done it hundreds of times. But to be clear – merely tempting them is not enough. They need to commit the sin itself for it to count.
Intrigued? I have a few favorites stories, and since you seem to be so interested, let me tell you about them.
Oh, let’s see. Back in the 50’s – probably in early 1955 now that I think about it, I was just starving. Korea was over, and the free love folks were a few years away. And I found myself just wandering the hinterlands of the US – eager to fill up. Sin was delicious back then as most of those guys didn’t know what they got themselves into until they were balls deep.
If there is one thing I am, it’s lucky. I had been trailing a trucker for days from Minneapolis – eager to get him to follow me into a restroom or invite me back into his motel room, but he just wouldn’t quite budge. One dead cold night, he stopped at a road stop in the middle of nowhere South Dakota. I watched him for about an hour, debating how I wanted to come to him tonight. Then, Joe entered.
Joe was a classic rancher – tight jeans and western wear but with that squeaky clean look the guys had in the 50’s. Clean shaven with a jawline for days and neatly cut brown hair. Bright, blue eyes rounded out the whole wholesome getup. He must have been a hair short of six-feet and well toned from working at a ranch forever. The whole package was topped with a black cowboy hat. I knew the second I saw him that he noticed how tight those cowboy jeans could be on the other ranchers. And, just like that, I was in.
Joe sat down in the middle of the bar and greeted the bartender, a straightlaced, old coot named Ralph I’d watched the few minutes before. They exchanged some pleasantries before a beer was placed in front of him. I slipped my fingers into that mind as I do – just enough to get a taste. I can’t read minds, but I can get a sense of things and fill in the blanks for myself. Joe’s head was a formal, structured place – he was an ‘everything in its place kind’ of guy. But I knew it was in there – faint little flashes of the ranch hands, the tight behinds they got from all that work, the excitement of pissing alongside them. Oh, Joe was perfect, and his sin could fill me for awhile.
Pretty, masculine guys generally like pretty, slightly less masculine guys – like attracts like, I figure. Taking a few cues from my travels over the previous few days, I quickly concocted my disguise. With Joe being somewhere in his late 20’s, I imagined just what I thought he might like – a slightly younger, slightly smaller guy, slim but not skinny with an average cock. Somebody he wouldn’t feel physically intimated by but would secretly want to taste. I’d use the same backstory I’d used countless times – just a guy coming through town. If Joe didn’t secretly want cock so bad, this guy might be a good friend. But, no, Joe was going to get to scratch that itch instead.
I lingered in the shadows, listening to the conversation. The trucker mentioned the snow snow coming the next day.
“Busted my ass today getting ready for it,” Joe responded.
Ralph nodded solemnly. “Probably won’t open unless it’s pretty light.”
“Ugh – then the old man’s the only one I’m going to see tomorrow,” Joe grumbled.
Jackpot. Lonely rancher trapped in his home during a snowstorm? My hunger swelled at the thought.
When he was done, I followed Joe down the pitch black country roads back to his place, watching him park and disappear into the sorgun escort modest farmhouse. And I waited quietly in the dark, plotting.
The snow came late the next morning – light at first but picking up in intensity in a matter of an hour. Just before the whiteout began, I pulled myself together and began walking up their rather long driveway. I normally go by Jim or some other generic guy name in these situations, and so Jim it was. Jim was a 5’9″ guy, slim but noticeably built with light brown eyes and dirty blonde hair. He had a similar pretty boy face to Joe but slightly chubbier, more angelic.
The wind was violently cold – something I first noticed in human form. Nobody would make it long at here without some shelter, and I bet Joe was happy to offer his home to get some company.
I climbed the squeaky steps to the house and knocked loud on the old door. Moments later, my gaze met a gruff, unfriendly face.
“What the fuck you want?” the man asked.
“Uh, I’m sorry to bother, sir – my, uh, car slid off the road, and I’m stranded. I was wondering if I might use your telephone,” I replied, my voice shaking.
The sound of the howling wind filled the void as we stood in silence.
“All right, get in here,” he responded, throwing the door open.
I entered, looking around in the small prairie kitchen I walked into.
“Ain’t nobody gonna be able to help you now,” the old man said, “But you might as well call whoever it is that might be looking for you. Let ’em know.” He pointed to a phone in the corner on the counter.
“Thank you, sir,” I said, walking quickly to the phone. I picked up the receiver and, just my good luck, there was no tone. I placed the receiver down.
“There’s no tone,” I said, turning to face the man.
I got my first good look at the guy. Before me was an old rancher in a worn plaid shirt and suspenders – maybe 50 but still in good sharp with large, powerful arms. His skin was rough and worn from years of outdoors work, but he was a kind of rugged handsome still with light salt and pepper stubble covering his face. His hair was still dark but gray along the edges. I knew from the height and jawline instantly that this was the old man of the house.
He heaved a heavy sigh. “Well, you’re fucked, son.”
“I…uh…could…” I deliberating stumbled, hoping the old man would just give in and let me stay.
“Where you headed?” he asked.
“Uh, Rapid City,” I said, remembering some sign the trucker passed late the prior night.
“Yeah, fucked,” he replied. He took two cups out of a cupboard and placed them on the counter before carefully picking up a pot and poured coffee for both of us.
“Here,” he offered a cup to me. “Ain’t no cream but we got some sugar if you want. Cold enough to freeze Commies out there.”
I smiled, “Thank you.” It was a bitter, terrible coffee, but Jim is never one to turn away generosity, even if its a virtue.
The old man motioned to a table in another room and began walking toward it. I followed and joined him. We sat opposite of each other. He politely waited until I sat and took another sip.
“You’re lucky – I needed a break anyway just happened to be in the house,” he said, taking a swig. “Anyway, you ain’t going back to your car unless you want to die out there. And, me and my boy could use some help around here today and tomorrow. Help us out and you can wait out the storm here.”
“Thank you, sir!” I practically shouted, “Yes, anything I can do.”
“Name’s Pete,” he said, offering his hand.
“Jim,” I said, shaking his hand.
Pete took me out to a barn and swung open an old wooden door, revealing the dimly lit interior. A wave of dry, warm air glided over us as we entered. The barn was definitely where the cattle were kept here during the winter, and the smell hit me hard.
“Joe!” he shouted out.
A moment later, Joe appeared from around the corner. A pair of baggy overalls mostly covered him, except for the tan t-shirt clinging to his shoulders and chest. The cloth hugged him tight, revealing a small taste of the pectorals underneath. Even here, his hair was neat and tidy – the sign of a man who cared how he looked. I could sense the spark from him almost instantly.
“Joe, this is Jim. He done went into the ditch, so here we all are. Show him what to do for today. He’ll be staying with us tonight.”
Pete then unceremoniously disappeared back out into the storm, slamming the wooden door as he did.
We shook hands, and Joe showed me around. He was distant at first – unsure what to make of my sudden arrival. I, for my part, was a grateful guy, volunteering wherever I could. Joe gradually warmed up over the next hour or so as we did our tasks together.
Joe was single, of course, and a Korean War veteran. I chuckled to myself as he told me – I definitely hadn’t seen him during my time in Korea. I would have remembered. His mom had died right before the war, and he came home after suadiye escort to keep the ranch going. He planned to take over eventually and settle down then.
“Not too many Dolls around here,” I remarked at one point.
“Shit,” he spat in response, “But with this place? I’ll find one, man.”
Around 3, the winds picked up and shook the barn’s timbers. Joe was getting tired and led me to the back, where he had a small, heated area with a few chairs. We sat and chatted for awhile to kill the time. Joe did such a good job of outlining his life that it was easy for me to parrot it back to him, almost making it seem totally real. He ate it up – eager to have a buddy instead of his dad for change.
“Gotta piss,” he finally said, walking back toward the front.
“Oh, yeah, you got an outhouse?”
“If you gotta shit, but otherwise, there’s a trough over there,” he said, motioning with his head toward the front.
I followed him around a few stalls and to an dim edge of the barn. In front of us, a long narrow trough, maybe 4 feet in length, lay with a slight decline toward a drain. Joe stood in front of the drain while I went to the opposite end. We both unzipped and two streams gently hit their targets. I waited a few seconds before gently turning my gaze toward him. He was looking directly forward and the cold air condensed his breath into small little vapor puffs. As I lowered my gaze, I noticed he held his cock in his right hand, which obscured my view.
After a few more seconds, I finished, stood there and looked forward, cock still in my right hand. Though I only have few of my abilities in human form, I can still fixate on my object of focus. Joe was glancing over, and I could just feel his attention on me. I shook my meat a few times and gently squeezed the head, letting my thumb run over it in his direct view. His stream continued as I pulled my hand back slightly to give him a look at my semi-hard cock. Even with my attention ahead, I could see his heavier breath floating toward me. Then, when his stream stopped, I turned my head noticeably toward him, pretending I didn’t see a thing. His attention whipped back forward and he quickly zipped up. I did the same.
After a few more chores, Joe brought me into the house to begin making dinner. Pete joined us just before dark, and while cooking the roast, we had a few beers. Both of them were obviously eager to have new company and enjoyed telling me the same ten stories they like to share with new people. It amazed me how trusting and hospitable they were – but this was God’s country. People still trusted each other back then.
We ate and shortly before eight, the power went out from the storm.
“Well, cattle will be fine out there in the barn with the heaters, but we better all get under some covers. Joe, have Jim sleep on the floor in your room,” Pete said, herding us all upstairs and to bed.
From what I could tell, Pete’s room was first at the top of the stairs. Then there was a small bathroom and, finally, Joe’s room.
“Goodnight, old man,” Joe called.
“Goodnight,” Pete replied in the dark. His door softly closed after that.
We walked down the hallway, and Joe closed the door after I stepped in.
“Sit on the bed,” he said, “Let me light some candles so we can see in here.”
I chuckled softly and sat. Joe fumbled to feel around until he found a Zippo and lit some candles on his dresser. The small flame pierced the dark as the wind howled outside.
“I’m not even tired, man,” Joe whispered.
“Me either,” I offered.
Joe threw some pillows on the floor and a heavy blanket. “You get comfy. I’ll sneak a few beers from downstairs. The old man hates any noise at night, so I gotta be quiet.” With that, he quietly opened the door and snuck down the hallway and silently down the stairs.
I stripped down to my underwear, leaving just my tight white t-shirt and tight white underwear.
Joe returned moments later with four beers and a shit-eating grin.
“Nicely done,” I said, taking one and quietly opening it.
“I may have snuck in and out of this house a few times in my day,” he said, with a smirk.
His sin swelled again as he entered – I could feel it radiating off of him. Mischief, sure. But a touch of lust. He was drinking partially to either enhance or dull it – I wasn’t sure. But alcohol usually only makes my hunt that much easier.
He quickly joined me by dressing down to his underwear and slid into his bed. We chatted, bullshitted for maybe an hour. He finished one and eagerly downed a second beer. Still, his intent was not clear to me right away. I could feel the lust, the dirty,magnetic energy just simmering underneath that otherwise cool exterior.
I dared to push a little on the boundaries.
“I’m pretty warm,” I said, slowly reaching down and rolling my undershirt put. I dragged it across my frame, making sure he could take it all in as I did. I stretched this over maybe 20 seconds, sultangazi escort letting him fully absorb every second. I closed my eyes as I pulled it over my head. I could hear him squirming, not sure whether to watch or not.
“I gotta piss,” he said abruptly, standing and quickly but quietly walking to the door.
“Me too,” I blurted out. The wind howled still, rattling the panes of the windows in the silence.
He sighed. “C’mon, but you gotta follow my steps or we’ll wake up the old man. Let me get a candle.”
Joe grabbed a candle from his side table and motioned for me to stand. I let my hardening cock show for him in my tightie whities, hoping he might glance over. To my disappointment, he seemed too intent on the task at hand to even notice.
He slowly swung the door open, slowly enough to avoid a sound, even though I doubted Pete could hear anything given the storm raging outside. Joe slowly placed the ball of his foot on the far side of the hallway and pulled himself over to the otherwise, his front fully facing me. From there, he shuffled quietly along the board until he got right before the doorway to the bathroom. From there, he pivoted himself in front of the door and slowly opened it. He entered and only a slight shadow from the dim glow from the candle remained.
I followed his lead, creeping down the hallway as he had. When I got to the entry, he waved me in. I stepped through the doorway, closing the door quietly behind me. A tension quickly filled the tiny room as it dawned on him what was happening.
“Ok, I’ll go first,” he whispered. He extended the candle toward me, “Just hold it so I can see.”
I took the candle in my left hand.
“Wait, let’s just both go at the same time,” I suggested, “It’s tight in here, and you’ll never see without sitting if I turn around. It’s no different than the trough today.”
He grimaced slightly at the suggestion. A slight panic filled his eyes as he raced to find an objection.
“I, uh…” he began.
Before he could speak further, I slide my hand in the front slip of my underwear and pulled my cock out, aiming it squarely above the pooled water in the bowl. A moment later, I started. Joe awkwardly fumbled around until he found his cock and also pulled it out, aiming at the same spot.
Even in the dim glow, I could see he had a fat, cut cock. I smirked to myself – eager to see what this country boy was going to do once I made my moves.
I finished and shook the last few drops from the head as he continued. As I had done last time, I ran my thumb over the head, feeling it beginning to plump. As it slowly filled my hand, I tugged gently, waiting for Joe to finish.
He stopped a few seconds later. With the stream over, I could hear his breath. My eyes remained fixated on his meat, which bounced as if he was just starting to grow. I let my eyes slowly drift up. A second later I saw his fixated gaze watching me jack.
I increased my speed, making it all the more obvious what I was doing. His cock grew watching me and, almost by instinct, he started jacking. With each pump, it grew in size. His lust blossomed big and bright, and my hunger growled deep in me.
We continued like this for about a minute before I reached across and I slide my hand over his, inviting him to let go.
He coughed and I looked up instantly. He nodded in the direction of his room before sliding his hard cock back in his underwear. I watched eagerly as he crept, full mast to the door and back down the hallway. I followed closely behind.
We slid back in his room, and he excitedly but silently closed the door. I stood motionless as he blew out all the candles and climbed back into bed. A pat on the sheets encouraged me to climb in with him under the blankets.
I placed my knee on the bed and brought myself to lie on my back. I lay still for a second next to him, just enjoying the savory waves of lust brimming off of him. Seconds later, I felt the blanket rhythmically moving to my left. I let my hand slowly slither under the blanket and back around his. He released his cock, and I wrapped my hand around the full girth. He had a huge cock – slightly too thick wrap my hands around. My thumb slowly traveled up the shaft before finding the head. He was at least seven inches, I guessed. I felt a smile grow across my face as I grasped him.
I let my full hand glide up and down his cock, teasing him, coaxing him. He squirmed, enjoying it, savoring the pleasure. After a minute or so, I gripped my hand under underneath the head and resumed jacking him, slowly and loosely. He gasped and little moans began escaping from him as the friction grew.
I tossed the blanket off of us and rolled toward him, now gripping him in my right hand. I tugged harder and more confidently. I could feel the intensity building inside of him as jacked him and that giant horse dick. Little gasps slowly filled my ear and I felt him press his head back into this pillow as the pleasure coursed through him.
I knew his resistance was now down – in for a penny, in for a pound. I pushed myself up to sit and kept jacking. He gave no real sign that he noticed a change, until I repositioned and lowered my mouth over his head, letting my lips brush against his cockhead.