Tuesday, June 30, 2020

Guest Writer: How Jake Met FelchingPisser


I don’t have many guest writers on the blog, but in recent years, I was glad to publish Jake’s point of view each time my cock and hands found their way into him. Jake, some will remember, is the man I have known the longest—with whom I am still playing. 

Almost a year ago, he sent me a write up about when we first met.  I saved it, as back then I was always behind in getting my adventures typed up.  But I found it again recently and this seems like a great time to publish it. 

The bathhouse in which we met was the one nearest my home—and the second bathhouse I visited.  I was very new to the kink I knew I wanted and couldn’t get with my vanilla partner.  I had fisted maybe two men at this point, both telling me I was a natural FF Top. 

So here it is…How Jake Met FelchingPisser…



It was in our local bathhouse, a cavernous and shabby building that once housed a local dairy operation.  I was a newbie fister in those long ago days. Head over heels, or I guess, heels over head about it.  I was learning that each man fists you in a different way depending on his experience or lack of it, and just as importantly, his own sexual personality.  Some men, usually first time tops, were positively giddy about it, once their fist was sucked into my hungry hole.  Others wanted it to be intense and painful at least to a point; a master sadist knows when he's pushed you just far enough to make it worth his while and yours.

A lot of the bathhouse clientele were not into anything much by way of kink, however, and many visits were washouts for me.  But one night a new man strode into the sling area, where I was waiting, cleaned out and ready.  He soon took command of my ass, and I was suddenly taken up to a higher level.  He first probed my ass to see if it met his standards. 

"Clean as a whistle!" he said with a smile.  Moments later he was thrusting his remarkably long and shapely hand into my ass, slowly but firmly, as announcement that he a lot to give, and I would soon be taking it all.  And I did...

Who was this man?  Under the circumstances, it was be fisted first, and ask questions later.  FelchingPisser loomed over me as a tall man built like a perfect phallus, arrow straight, with slightly rounded shoulders surmounted by a small well shaped head, balding, bearded, with straight nose and large intelligent eyes. His default expression is calm serious intensity. 

In his street clothes, FP is unremarkable.  But I met him in a state of undress, or rather, dressed for things better done off the street.  His feet were shod in leather boots and heavy socks, providing something like pair of leather-clad balls to serve as the right base for the phallic man looming upwards from them.  His hips are as wide as his shoulders, and he is spare and lean and firm up and down.  The hips are cinched by the dirtiest old-time jock strap I ever saw.  The jock barely contains the big hairy balls and massive cock, all bolted securely into place by a cold steel ring.  Shoved into the band of the jock, in a hollow of his belly by a hip bone, is a bottle of whatever poppers he favors at the moment, and maybe a condom or two.  He may be wearing a harness or not as he pleases, and at other times a leather vest and chaps to wrap his long straight legs.

In other words, he is out for serious extreme sex.  He'd stand out in any crowd of naked men. In fact when he walks in, you can't see anyone else.  And you want him.

Best of all for me, FP wanted my ass. His hand slid in like a key sliding into a lock.  He fisted me like no one else before or since.

It was the first of many meetings, all too infrequent, and never quite long enough.  Twenty years later, the sex is great, and I can't wait to climb into his sling again.

Saturday, June 27, 2020

My Old Jock


I apologize.

I have not felt remotely randy these last two weeks. 

Work.

The world.

The looming retirement.



Zane wrote that he was missing my scent.

I suggested I send him this jock.



I then added to its rankness with one of my few JO’s these weeks.




I sent him the pics.

He was glad—telling me he now knew where to chew it.


It hit the post today.



(I have two jocks ready to go internationally, but waiting just a little more on those, not know the state of international mail right now.)

Saturday, June 13, 2020

Re-Post: Sex Party (in two parts)


I am sorry I have been away for so long.  Work picked up.  It certainly wasn’t sex getting in the way…

So here is a quick a re-post.  It is a two part-er about attending a hot house party.  This host opened his entire home so for a monthly sex party—during the summer and fall.  Attendance was great—sometimes as many as 80 men came in and stripped for action.  He stopped throwing them last year.  I really missed it, so it was good to re-read this. 

Here is the first part of:   SexParty—the DP

And here is the conclusion:  Sex Party—Young Ass in the Dark Area.

Enjoy!

Sunday, June 7, 2020

Whoring Out Don


Near Home—March, 2020

Well, I am back to writing up the first of the three encounters I had in March before we locked down.  (I still haven’t figured out how I am breaking the TWELVE WEEKS of no sex, but I’m working on it.)  At the top of March, Don came to my place without his partner Reid.  We thought about just using the sling—but while we talked, we realized that we both wanted to involve others.  We got in my car and headed to the bookstore closest to me. 

It was a warm spring afternoon.  The parking lot, while not packed, held more cars than I expected.  We went in and paid.  The straight theatre was fairly full.  Men were scattered around the dim room—but no one was doing anything.  I smiled at Don, a veteran bookstore cocksucker.  He grinned and nodded.  I sat in a chair down near the television and unbuttoned my pants…


My cock springs out of my jock.  I am wearing a dirty white pouch that will eventually be sent halfway around the world.  The smell of piss and cum fills my nostrils and makes my cock start to drool.  I have worn it for Don—knowing he loves the heady smell of it.

The movie is good.  I stroke.  The man across the aisle takes his dick out, too.  He nods to me.  I take my hand away and show him my rampant cock.  He shows me his regulation 6 incher.  I smile—and he gets up.  He kneels between my splayed legs.  He looks at it for a moment, inhaling the jock, before he begins to bob up and down on my dick.  I turn and look over my shoulder to the back wall where I left Don.  He comes closer and sits in the chair the man vacated.  His eyes are large as he watches the guy go to work on my dick. 

The man is good, but I want more.  I motion for Don to come over.  He stands up.

“Lick my balls,” I grunt out to my cock sucker.  He goes for the hairy orbs.  I pull Don down to suck my dick.  The two simultaneous mouths feel wonderful.  The man on my balls is not upset at all by my roping in another—he works harder to make me feel good.  Both men are totally into pleasing me orally.  At one point they pause to kiss, before leaving my balls and taking alternate turns on my pre-cumming cock.  Don eventually worms his way under the man on the floor to suck his cock, as the guy sucks me.

The first guy finally has to get off his knees.  He thanks me and excuses himself.

Don has all eyes on him now as he sucks my dick.  Another man, younger and hot, has taken the chair across from us and is even stroking.  I make eye contact with him and offer him Don’s mouth.  He holds up his hand, indicating he just wants to watch.  Don takes his cue—and makes a show of loudly slurping on my cock; on taking it so deep it chokes him; of making countless deep groans in the back of his throat when I choose to stand up and face fuck him.

The sexual temperature of the room is hot and intense.  But no one wants to join us.  They watch—and the cute guy jerks. 

We finally pause, take a piss break and go into the gay cinema.

The first thing we see is the nicely hung cute guy getting head.  I can’t see who is on the floor in front of him. I stand beside him and Don goes back down on me.  Now I can see it is a good looking Hispanic young man I have often seen here.  He is sucking for all he’s worth—and stroking his small uncut dick as he gives oral service.

Suddenly he shoots all over the floor.  He unceremoniously just stops and leaves.  I nudge Don to suck the younger guy.  Now, in the darker room, and having been warmed up by a younger guy, he lets Don take him.  I watch his face.  He obviously is enjoying Don’s skills.  I move behind Don.  I kneel.  He feels what I am doing and moves to a crouching position, never taking his mouth off the hot man.  I pull down his khakis bury my face in his jock framed ass.

“Eat him out, man,” breathes the cute guy.  “Lick his hole while he sucks my dick.”

I eat him out, slathering in vast amounts of spittle to make for the coming fuck.

I stand up.  I slap my hard cock on Don’s upturned ass.

“Fuck him,” the guy whispers.

I slide right in.

“Oh, yeah.  Fuck him raw.”

I start slowly—but build fast.  My thrusts are helping Don take the dick deeper into his throat.  I pull out to show the guy my dripping cock and push it right back in.

Don is in spit roast heaven.  He is groaning around the dick in his mouth. 

I fuck some more and pull out.  “You should take a turn up his ass.”

“I don’t know…”

“Do it,” I urge.  “He’s great.”

Don comes up off his dick and leans against the back of a chair, invitingly.  I want to suck the guy’s dick but I don’t.  The young guy hesitates a millisecond, then walks the few steps to Don’s ass.  He doesn’t fuck him…he falls to his knees and begins eating out the freshly fucked hole.

“Fuck…I can taste your cock,” he mumbles into Don’s hole.  He is jerking himself as he chows down. 

I move around and feed my cock to Don.  “Taste your ass, man.  Clean me good.”

The kid is really jerking now as he drills his tongue deeper and deeper into Don.  And he’s suddenly there.  He stands and fires a massive load all over Don’s butt.   Some pools in the small of Don’s back, while some clings to the hairs of his wet ass crack.

“Let me push that into him.”  I take the guy’s place.  He stands aside, his cock still dripping, his eyes riveted on my dick as I mop up his seed and fuck it into Don.

“You are so…nasty.”  But he likes it.  His cock has never gone down.

“Let me clean you,” pants Don. 

The guy moves to Don’s mouth as I begin to fuck with his load as lube.

“So hot…”  And he begins fucking Don’s mouth in time with my strokes in his ass. 

I build.  He builds. 

“I’m gonna shoot,” I tell him.

“Me, too!”

Mine happens first.  I fire off a good three day load deep into Don.

Seeing me shoot, makes him cum again.  Don takes every drop.

I stand still until the guy’s balls are empty—and he is truly shaking from the force of back to back orgasms.

I kneel and make eye contact with the young man.  My tongue snakes into Don’s wet hole and finds a huge dollop of our mixed loads.  I swallow it down.

The next one I share with Don in a deep kiss…

Monday, June 1, 2020

Re-Post: Three Adventures with Ex-Military Ass...


So to sort of continue our military theme…

Clark.

A hot man.

For a time, he lived quite close to my tiny town.

He was ex-military, and not long out of it, working at a VA hospital.

He loved dick in his hole. 

Lots of it.

I took him up to the half bookstore/half bathhouse establishment, back when it was much smaller.

Here are three posts featuring Clark and his love of cock:

Loading Ex-Military Ass at the Bookstore  is HERE.


Felching That Ex-Military Ass is HERE where two tops trade off on him (with more pictures)


And finally, A Final Fuck is HERE as we return to an even better bookstore filling just before Clark leaves town.





My cock in Clark.

Friday, May 29, 2020

Equipment Close-up: The Gas Mask


Equipment Close-up:  The Gas Mask


I think it was as soon as the drive home from pissing on the ex-marine, I resolved to get a gas mask.  (I almost added ‘for my play room’—but it was a good 10 years before I had the space to set one up.) 

I found one on a military surplus site.  Russian, I believe.  I bought it.


I knew I wanted to feel that rush of piss down the air hose and see how much I could swallow.  I tried it several times, with a number of willing fuck buds. 

Just pulling the mask over my head put me in a mindset I was not used to.  It is tight.  The rubber clings to your flesh.  (I knew a number of sub-ish men who would like that feeling far more than I.)  Breathing feels labored.  And loud.  You hear each intake of your breath.  Add the hose to it, and that air feels far away. 

I knelt in the shower of a friend’s house.  He touched my shoulder.  “You ready?”  His voice was deadened by the loud sound of my breathing filling my ears.  I nodded and he held the hose to his cock.  He started to piss.  A trickle at first.  It shot down the tubing and into my mouth.  It changed the flavor, making it slightly more chemical tasting.  Suddenly his flow reached maximum output.  

The mask was totally full of his piss.  I was swallowing as much as possible, but my entire face was covered and my breathing was cut off.  I swallowed once more and had to rip the mask off my face to get some air.

I panted and coughed. 

I love drinking piss, but I am such a “straight from the tap” kind of guy.  I like feeling his dick in my mouth before it erupts.  This had some of that “I pissed in a bottle—now drink it” feel, that I could care less about. 

But, even as I knelt there, panting, I knew there were men who would love it more than I…

I tried it again, a few weeks later.

And another time.

I could never quite handle that flood cutting off all my air.

The fourth time the mask came out, I pissed a sub boy.  He loved it.  He almost shot his load as he drank down all my piss spewing down the air hose.

I don’t have a lot of those men in my stable—but I have found a new use for the mask.

Fisting bottoms love to check out while wearing it.  I have used electrical tape to make a little pocket at the end of the breathing screen where the hose used to attach.  


A cotton ball is soaked in poppers and placed there.  It makes for a great no hands needed high for them while they concentrate on how I am stretching their hole.


Monday, May 25, 2020

The Masked Marine

Near Home—September. 1997  (?)

As it is Memorial Day here in the United States, I looked for a post about a marine I knew.  This was a hook up that I had long before I was doing the blog, but I thought I had written it up.  I couldn’t find it.  Maybe I had only meant to write it.  Now this was a very early watersports adventure.  Long enough ago that I was a very young 40...

So here it is…

I am online—on Squirt, the only dating site I know.  I am reading the cruise listing when my email alert sounds.  I click the mailbox open—and go to the profile first.  A man in his early 30’s.  A man with an incredibly built torso.  No face.  I open his message.

“You like to piss?”

I tell him I do.  Though I haven’t done it a lot.

“Come over and find me.”

I tell him I am about 45 minutes away.

“You can drink up as you drive.”  He proceeds to give me instructions of how to find his apartment in a big apartment complex.  And his address.  I grab two bottles of water and head out the door. 

I chug one bottle and sip the second.  It’s a night in late summer—and the sun is only just thinking about setting as I pull into his place.  I see his number on a door on the second floor.  I go up.  It’s ajar and a note is taped to it.  I open it and read before I enter:

“Bathroom at end of hall—grab the hose.  You know what to do.”

My cock shifts in my jock—making the front of my 501’s tent.  I go in.  I shut the door and open my fly.  I go down the dark corridor.  I can hear some movement behind the half closed door at the end.  I open it.  He is sitting huddled over in the tub.  Even in this pose, you can tell his body is magnificent.  I can’t see his face for he is wearing a military issue gas mask.  The breathing hose is connected to the filtered mouthpiece.  I pick it up.

“Here, boy…”


And I begin pissing down the tube.  Instantly he begins choking.  And gasping as he swallows my piss.  Swallowing and fighting for air.  I can’t stop emptying my bladder.  I piss on and on.  He chokes and wretches.  He writhes and reveals his incredibly hard cock as his body straightens up.  I finally run dry.  With no more coming down the tube, he wrenches off the mask—gasping for breath.  He is handsome—with a big pronounced nose and high cheek bones.  His long surfer hair is damp with piss.  He gasps once more and asks for me to wait in the living room.  I hear the shower turn on as I find his kitchen and the living room beyond.

He joins me, fast, having just done a quick rinse.  A light bathrobe over his handsome, damp body.

“Beer?”  he asks.

I tell him I’d rather have water.

“Can I add some scotch to it?”

I nod.  He brings it to me—and we go out on one of those mini balconies that were so popular with apartments built in the 70’s. 

“You were great,” he says.

He’s talkative as we sit in two lawn chairs out in the dying sunset.

He tells me he was in the marines.  He got addicted to piss at boot camp.  He never saw which of his buddies pissed him.  He was always in the gas mask…as they passed the breathing hose from one to another.

“You can’t breathe when the piss comes that fast.  I didn’t used to want to drink it, but you had to, to try and get air.”

“Did they fuck you?”

“A couple of times…but it was the piss humiliation that we both loved.”

He refills my drink.  And has some scotch himself.  I tell him about the piss party in Chicago—a group I have only just found.

“I don’t think I care about guys who want to drink it,” he offers.  “That’s crazy.”

We chat a little more.  We go inside when the mosquitoes find us.  I sit on the end of his bed.  I ask to see his body. 

“It’s not much…” he says as he slips off the robe.

It’s magnificent.  Toned, hairy in all the right places.  That Jon Hamm/Robert Mitchum torso—once defined and hard but now slightly soft.  He is not remotely hard now.

“Turn around.  Let me see your ass.”

It is hairy, too.  He even bends, presenting it to me.  I slip to my knees and tongue his hole. 

He whimpers.  Like a bad boy—being punished.

I stroke my dick as I eat him out. 

He reaches back between his legs and finds my cock.  “Shit, no…” he groans.

I bat his hand away and continue sticking all my spit up his hole.

I guide him around so he leans against the mattress.  I rip open a Magnum (it’s 10 to 12 years before I go bare again).  I slip it on—with my mouth still plastered to his ass.  I grease it up—and stand.  I poke the latexed covered head at his hole.

“No…no…”

I work the head in.  His breathing becomes fast.  He goes from standing and leaning on the bed, to knees up on it in classic doggy.  I push the first four inches into him.

He moans in pain.  The rest of me slides in.  Now he truly screams.  He falls forward, pull it out.  He is in tears.  I have triggered something more than stretching his hole.

“I…can’t do that,” he mumbles.  I know I should be holding him—but I just stand there.

Eventually he stops and crawls off the bed.  This hot man crawls to where I stand, my cock still encased in latex.  He takes me in his mouth and peels the condom off with his teeth.  It’s not a great blowjob…but it’s not bad.

“Can you feed me that scotch?   The guys in the barracks had always been drinking, you see…”

I nod.

Like a shot he’s off to the bathroom.  I follow.  He is masked and ready. Hunkered down on the cool, damp porcelain.  I grab the breathing tube.

“I have something for you…” I growl.

My strong liquor piss begins to pour down the tube.  His breathing becomes labored as he tries to swallow while encased in the mask.  I see his cock erect. 

And this time he shoots…







From a photo shoot around the time I started the blog—in my Air Force flight suit.  (The photographer was a top who had designs on my ass…)  I have never used these particular shots.