The old man and the thief: total domination

The tired old man returned home. He had had a long day: dinner and a family visit. It was a good time, but he was exhausted.

When he came in, he felt for an instant that he was not alone. He looked around: no one. Doors and windows closed. He told himself it was his imagination and dropped into the armchair, still dressed in his good dark suit, white shirt, and a new tie, dark red, very formal and pleasant.

As always, he wore shiny black loafers and special socks: black with gray and white stripes, white heel and toe. He enjoyed dressing well down to his underwear: black underpants and undershirt.

He approached from behind the armchair and touched his shoulder. The old man barely stirred. Then the stranger took out a black handkerchief, sprayed a liquid, and brought it close to his nose and mouth. The old man woke up trying to scream, but only a muffled moan came out —mmmmhhhee—. He kicked; one shoe almost came off. He struggled weakly against someone much stronger… until his body went soft and he fell into a deep faint, limp, unresisting.

Confident, the stranger lifted him —dead weight, difficult, but he was used to it— and slung him over his shoulder. One shoe was left behind. He carried him to a dimly lit bedroom and laid him on the bed. He was about seventy years old: white hair, white mustache, thin and well groomed. One sock had slipped down during the struggle.

The stranger looked at his prize. He felt desire harden in his pants. He arranged the body carefully and murmured to himself: “This time you really will be mine… and you won’t avoid me anymore when we see each other.” He kissed the old man’s mouth with a strange, almost reverent tenderness.

Speaking quietly, he took off his pants and briefs. He opened the suit jacket, felt the nipples under the shirt, and gave them an affectionate squeeze. He was starting to remove his tie when the old man murmured, recovering:

But under the black underpants something had reacted: it hardened and shot cum, wetting boxers and pants. The old man sank again into a deep faint, with no sense of time —not dead: switched off by pleasure and lack of air, his heart beating hard under his skin.

Without getting off him, the attacker undressed him slowly. First he loosened the tie so he could breathe again in that heavy sleep. He opened the shirt. At the pants he unbuckled the belt, lowered the zipper, and noticed the wetness of the semen. He put his hand into the briefs: the cock still hard, about nineteen centimeters, thick. He squeezed. He loved touching older men. He brought his hand to his mouth and tasted it.

Lust overpowered him. He got off the bed and sucked along the side of the boxers until it was fully erect. Then he climbed back on, lubricated himself with what remained, and slowly sat down, taking it all in, riding with rhythm. The unconscious body —still half dressed— moved to the beat. The right sock, half lowered, s...