Control

Cleveland--September, 2011

Since I’ve been between jobs since the end of August, I’ve had lots of time to travel and get caught up with a lot of my regular fuck buds who were all left hanging during my impossibly busy summer.  Juan is one of the best.  Short, hairy, originally from Central America and now going to grad school in the Windy City, he had suggested he stop by the play room on his way to a weekend in Cleveland.  His travel times changed and he had to cancel.  But being an excellent fuck bud, he suggested I  join him on his final night in Cleveland at the bathhouse…and he would give me all the loads I could eat out of his ass.  He loves to walk around the tubs, take as many loads as possible and give me a veritable feast.  What I find interesting, that while that was fun and hot--and fucking him while loaded was even better--it‘s not what I really remember about that night...

I am fucking Juan in the sling.  The bathhouse has a play area with bunk beds and a sling. There is plenty of room around it for guys to watch the action unfold.  His hairy butt is working my cock, clasping and massaging it down the entire length.  He’s one of the few men I really have to watch myself with, his ass can milk cum out of almost anyone before you know it.  Two couples are watching us.  One set is absently playing with each other as I fuck.  The other is more adventurous and playing with Juan’s nipples, sizable cock  and reaching down to feel my cock--to see if I’m really fucking him raw.

“How many loads do you have in there?” I ask.

“Three,” he smiles.  “I only had an hour.”

Eventually I notice we have one more spectator--a man in his late 60‘s.  He is on all fours on the floor, ass to the door.  I guess that he would like some of the same.  I keep pumping into the very moist hole of Juan.  If I increase in tempo, I can even make his hole froth a little.  That calls for me to stop, and lick up the jizz my big, flared cock head has pulled out.  As I lick, suck and swallow the mixed cum from Juan’s hole, the man on all fours rises and begins to caress Juan’s feet in the stirrups.  I stand, look enquiringly at Juan, but he’s just fine with it.  I go back to fucking Juan‘s juicy ass, and the older man starts licking  Juan’s toes.  Soon, I invite one of the guys who’s been playing with Juan’s chest to fuck.  He moves around and slips into the dripping hole.  The foot man takes all five of Juan’s toes.

The stud now fucking Juan looks like he’s ex-Marine.  Built.  Everywhere.  His big cock looks great slamming into Juan.  Suddenly he glances down at his cock, a look of disbelief on his face.

“I’m cumming.”

And he does.  His whole body shakes.  The foot man withdraws and disappears.  The Marine shudders, stands still and tries to catch his breath.  His partner looks none too pleased that Juan just got the load. The marine starts to withdraw.  So I kneel, clean his cock and then go for the mother-lode in that tight, pliant ass.  Slick, copious and wonderful on the tongue.

Juan gets down, but not until after I’ve licked my fill and pounded the rest deeper into his gut.  He wants some private time in his room to reload--with the shy guys who won’t play in public.  I reluctantly let him go.  I love to watch him get filled, but I totally understand.


I go off to the TV room.  It is large, with tiered, carpeted seating for ease of stroking and full on sex.  The screen is small--with no more than a large laptop size image. I settle in.  My cock is still rampant and will not remotely fit in my jock.  It’s rather shiny from all the cum it fucked in.  Just as I’m about to wrap my fist around it, a young man asks if he can suck me.  I nod.  He kneels a step below me and starts slurping at my dick.  I ruffle his shaggy blond hair.  He’s good.

Then I feel it.  Pressure on the toe of my combat boot.  I look down.  It’s the foot man.  He looks up at me, his eyes full of fear.  Does he mumble “Please, Sir?”  I can’t tell.  I nod.  I can take or leave feet.  But he wants it so much.  Why shouldn’t I let him?  I curtly nod.  I expect him to start unlacing.  But no.  He decides I need a spit shine.  The boy is working my cock--and the man is swabbing huge strokes across my black boot.  I can feel the pressure of his tongue through the leather.  His stroke is heavy enough to feel good not tickle. He does the entire toe area of the left.  Including the ridge where the leather joins the sole.  He looks up at me wondering.  I point to my right.  He immediately goes for the new boot.

The cocksucker has tired when he realizes I’m not going to blow.  He’s left.  I sprawl back, luxuriating in the feel of foot man’s tongue thru the leather.  In all my years I’ve never had anyone clean my boots so well, while I’m in them.  He’s reached under his towel and I know he’s playing with himself.  He looks up at me.  I think he wants my feet.  But I’m not quite ready.  I thank him and leave, telling him I’ll be back.

I find Juan.  Success, but he won’t feed me yet--nor tell me his load count.  I find and fuck a hot man in the sling who is literally covered in tattoos.  Head to toe--and cock.  I get him off…and head back for my feet.  I can’t get the man’s look of longing out of my mind.

He’s still there.  He instantly kneels before me.  He unties my boots with his teeth.  With another person I might have smirked.  But he did it with such precision.  Ritual.  His rite of worship.  If he needed an idol for a few minutes, I’m happy to oblige.  He opens my left boot.  The foot comes out in a wool sock.  Instantly it goes to his nose and is pressed against his open mouth.  He inhales.  His towel opens and falls away.  His smallish cock is rampant.  A mumbled “Thank you.”  He sops the toes a little in his mouth, then removes the wool covering and goes for the toes.  Delicately, but never with that light, annoying ticklish sort of tonguing.  It feels like he is memorizing my feet.  How they feel on his tongue, taste in his mouth, how they smell pressed tightly against his face.

I’m not sure how long he takes.  I’ve slumped back and closed my eyes, reveling in the new and different.  He moves to the right and repeats the process.  Laces.  Boot.  Sock.  The swabbing of the flesh.  His tongue tracing the lines of my insole.  This time his hands are also on my right foot.  I’m ticklish--but not with him.  They are massaging the wet sole, cupping the foot.  I feel his mouth go around my toes as if he were deep throating a cock.  My feet are too big.  He gags.  And shoots his load.  I  open my eyes and see him convulsing.  Hanging onto my foot and cumming with no hands touching his cock.

“Thank you, Sir.”

I nod and tell him how good it was.  He flushes.   Suddenly talkative, he tells me he rarely gets anyone who really understands.  But he’s come out about his foot fetish and doesn‘t care if people here look oddly at him.  He comes here each week to try to get someone to let him perform.  Mopped up, he thanks me again and disappears.

I lean back on the bleacher.  Soon I collect my boots and socks and move up to the top level, stretching out. I feel so sated--just like after a good massage.  I  think I actually doze.  I come back to reality as a hairy ass sits astride my face.  I’d know Juan anywhere.  My tongue snakes out--connecting with this puffy, stretched out hole.  I can taste the cum.  With his infinite control he lets the cum flow out in small  increments.  I grab his hairy thighs and dig.  Another dollop.  Fuck!  I burrow deeper as a third flow hits my tongue.  My cock  is drooling.  

From somewhere high above I hear him say in that soft Spanish accent, “Seven more.  Clean me up good.”  This time he releases the entire accumulation of multiple loads into my mouth.  I can barely breath.  I can only swallow…