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The Stockades (Patreon)

Published:
2026-04-21 10:22:22
Imported:
2026-08
Tags:

Content

Married old man locked in stocks to be used by random men for loose change. I don't really have a definite story behind this, so make one up

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Comments

Graymouse

He was only fooling around with the young man. It had been his son's college buddy on home from break, visiting. A lacrosse player, one of those trim rabbit types. Of course, he wasn't nearly so meek and mild as he seemed, especially once he got that jockstrap off. They were caught on their third romp, in Harold's "man cave;" he'd taken the young buck down to the basement to show him his football memorabilia and old college trophies when Sharon came down to find her husband ass to ankles and getting drilled like an oil well, making noises she'd never heard him make in their thirty years together. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, they say. She thought she was being clever. "You like taking big dicks, do you? Well then, we'll see how much you really like it!" she might have said to herself. She was surprised at the speed with which his Thursday poker buddies accepted the invite. Pete even blurted out that he'd always wanted to plow her husband's ass. After rounding up the candidates and getting over her shock, all she had to do was set up the stockade in his man-cave. The marriage counselor's suggestion that they try to spice up their sex life was the perfect excuse. Harold let himself get locked in willingly. His tail wagged eagerly as he stood there, naked, ready to see what his wife might do to him. Maybe she'd pull out a riding crop. The padlock sure looked serious. But then the doorbell rang, and so sweetly, she excused herself to go get it, leaving him alone for a long, tense, agonizing few moments of silence. Then his friends came, one by one, naked and horny. Pete, Bill, Conrad, Brick, even Bubba was rock solid as they surrounded him. Bubba had a big, glass jar of condoms and a roll of tape. Brick even brough snacks. Sharon heard the whimpers, the smacks of flesh, the gasps of impending orgasm. For only a moment, she lit a cigarette and smirked to herself. "That'll teach him," she thought. But they didn't stop. An hour passed, filled with the faint sounds of ass-pounding and cocksucking. Then two. Then four. Her husband's husky voice floated up from the basement door along with the stink of man-sweat and stale cum splattered over who knows what. "More, boys... Just one more round... Please..."