Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Picture #6

This is part of the photo shoot that a f-bud did for me. 
It's my basement wall. 
It was January. 
And fucking freezing...

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

The Professor

Nashville--November, 2011

Before I left for Tennessee, Rob the Breeder had written me that a reader of his, and mine as it turned out, had written, asking if Rob thought I might be interested in fucking him. This was my first brush with a reader. A couple of my boys know I’m writing things up, but I haven’t played with either since October when this began. It creates a very different set of nerves than the usual hook up feel. Since the Professor had no pictures online--or any in his possession at all--I went to his house for an introductory scotch. I mentioned it in my hiatus post:

“…and actually met a very enthusiastic reader. We had a marvelous 4 + hour talk about sex, books, kinky sex, scotch, filthy sex, movies, piss sex, straight porn and antiques. We played a little that night, but not until it was way too late. (I mean, he showed he his jock-strapped hole, how could I not lick it? Finger it?? Fuck it just a little??? But it was almost 5am…) Tonight I hope to be doing some things with him he rarely gets to do….”

And we did.
 

We are in his bedroom. He’s moved his massive, expensive looking bed to one side. There is room for the sling to the left of it and the rim seat at the foot. I am careful to cover the hardwood floors with tarps. He adds a blanket to catch any run off. I’m stripping down to a jock and boots--a fetish of his. I look at the professor as I put the boots back on, having folded the pants and tossed them in a corner. His profile describes himself as 49 years old, with a stocky, solid build, with a seven inch, thick, uncut cock and a world class hole. I sampled both, briefly two nights before. Absolute truth in advertising. What he doesn’t mention is what a gentleman he is in the living room and how he’s anything but that in the bedroom--eager, willing, wanting new sensation.

He’s in a white jock and t-shirt, starting up the TIM porn we use as background fuck noise. I sit on the side of the bed and point to the floor. He kneels and begins licking the pouch of my jock. I’m pretty sure he’s erect and poking out of the side of his. I pull the balls free, and let his tongue get them sopping wet. Slowly I reveal the full shaft. He works it down his throat. He’s good. Really good. I relax and let him work my drooling cock. I’m not sure he’s ready to stop sucking, but I have to taste his hole.

I stand up and help him to his feet. I suggest he get on the bed, on all fours. It’s my turn to kneel on the floor. His ass cheeks are sturdy--they feel great as they try to squeeze me out of his crack. I stop stroking myself and use both hands to pull them apart. He takes a hit of poppers, and I plunge in. Fuck, yeah. It’s my turn to get lost--in licking his hole, using my beard to rub against it and his entire crack. He changes back and forth between poppers and Maximum Impact. We are lost in sensation. I pull his hard cock back, work the foreskin back and swab my tongue across it. I put all the precum into his ass.

Eventually I rise. It’s time for the Professor to try something new. I get under the rimseat. It’s my turn for a hit of poppers. I lie back, put the seat down and he sits carefully. The seat spreads his generous ass. My tongue slips into him.

“You are so deep in me.” He takes a hit of poppers which only allows me to get slightly deeper yet. The taste of his worked hole, flavored with his precum, is amazing. I lick and chew and spit at it. We could both stay right here most of the night. But I want to stick my cock in that hole. I double tap his thighs to get him up and off. I rise.

“I’ve never been in a sling.” I help him get situated. His legs are in the stirrups. He’s suspended perfectly in line with my throbbing cock. I bend to lick his hole and taint for a moment. He takes a hit of MI--and I enter. Not fast, not slow, just a steady thrust forward. I watch his eyes. They widen and roll back in his head. I stroke long and slow. He can’t keep his hands off his nipples. I taste his hole. I fuck him hard and fast until the chains rattle. Winded, I dig out a pair of forceps. I tweak each nipple and clamp it down. Not terrifically tight--just enough to really feel the constant throb. I re-enter him. His ass is velvet. And I love the sound my hips make as they smack his full, upturned ass. I fuck. And fuck. This time when I pull out I don’t dip to eat out his hole. I piss on it. I’m sure I take him by surprise--but he seems to love the warmth. He certainly loves the feel of my tongue cleaning it all off his hole.

Licking my piss has caused me to be rampant. I enter him. This time I see a flash of pain across his face.

“Sore?”

“A little.”

I ease out. Remove the forceps. The throb is most intense now as the blood races back into his nipples. My mouth is there, sucking them, swabbing them back to normal.

“But I want your cum in my ass.”

I smile. I rim him just a little. When I sense he’s taken a hit, I enter his ass. I’m building to release fast. A little more. Fuck, yeah. I fuck harder. And I shoot. I watch his face. I can see him feel every spurt. I dip for a minute and clean his hole with my tongue.

I ask if he want to get off, but he’s good.

We pack the sling.

We do a rather chaste good bye kiss.

And I’m off into the night.

I’d mentioned in passing that we were watching the one Dawson video I didn’t own. The Professor popped the disc and handed it to me. A nice gesture from a sweet man.

The first day we met, I charged him with making a devil’s dick of his own cum for me to use on him. We were planning a re-match before I left town. My unexpected departure for Michigan mid-trip, changed the amount of time I had to play significantly. I’m hoping we can still meet up before I leave Nashville--so I can slip all those frozen loads up his ass to use as the perfect lube…..
 

Monday, November 28, 2011

The Park

Nashville--November, 2011

I left for Nashville soon after the Suit left the bookstore. In three hours I was there. In four hours I was moved in and sitting in one of the largest parks in the area. When I first worked in Nashville 25 years ago all of Nashville’s parks were packed with men looking for sex. Added park rangers on bikes, several stings, surveillance equipment and a newly built high school close by have changed the tenor of the place in the last few years. But the day I arrived, with temperatures in the high 60’s in mid November, the place was jumping like it was 1977.

The park I have always gone to is huge for being so near a metropolitan area. Huge as in 2684 acres of forest, trails, steep hillsides, picnic shelters and a couple of restrooms. Many of the winding roadways have been closed for cars, so runners abound. As do mule deer, raccoons, opossums, bluebirds and enough squirrels for every other tree.

My first summer there I remember lying on the hill in front of one of the Federal Works Project style picnic shelters. I still sat in the sun back then and had nothing on but a Speedo that clung to every curve of my cock. I had guessed about the park, but it was my first introduction to cruising Southern style. A silver Buick, the size of boat, came around the curve and hit the brakes. The car remained motionless for a time, then proceeded to the parking lot. Soon a man in his sixties, approximately the same size as his car and wearing little other than short shorts and flip-flops, made his way up he hill towards me. He began circling me (pausing to catch his breath on the picnic table behind me. after each time around) The circles got smaller and smaller. Each time he passed my feet I heard him say, “It sure is hot out.” I would nod and go back to my book. Soon he was close enough that I could see the tiny head of his uncut cock hanging out of those short shorts.

We did not hook up.

So many memories flooded through my brain as I drove into the park:

A three way in the back picnic table shelter one midnight in the pouring rain.
A mutual blowjob with an ebony skinned hiker, lost in the hills.
The lithe, red haired runner who let me eat his ass in the restroom, but would not let me fuck it, since I still used condoms exclusively back then.
The trail where I used to fuck guys, bent over a log.
A small clearing down by the river where countless blowjobs were given or received.
The good looking man who drove his Volvo relentlessly around the park while jerking off.
The lithe, red haired runner getting my load two years ago--as his usual fuck bud watched.

I am sitting on top of the hill, the same one I sunbathed on all those years ago. It has a direct view of the restroom where all the action happens. In no time, a car passes me and parks at the restroom. He looks up at me and goes in. I can see blond hair, jeans and sneakers, a little younger than me. I wait and count. He’s been in there too long. I go down the hill.

It’s dark inside after the bright sunshine. But he’s still there at the right hand urinal. I take the left. Even manage to piss. And get hard after all the sex the night before and this afternoon. I stroke. It’s obvious that’s what he is doing, but a small partition keeps us from seeing each other.

We wait. Eyes dead ahead. Soon enough he looks over. I turn and catch his eye. He looks away. We wait. Again. Eyes meet. I step back and show him my erect cock. He’s on his knees and I’m feeding it to him. He’s okay. Not great. Almost instantly there is the sound of a car on the gravel outside. We spring apart, and are back at the urinals, looking nonchalant, by the time a bearish looking guy ambles in. He goes to the toilet beyond us--a cinderblock stall with no door. We hear him drop his pants. The blond soon zips up and run off scared. I do an elaborate hand wash. The guy is still back there. I go to the paper towel dispenser on the far wall. It is conveniently placed so you can look directly into the stall. I’m glad I do. The bear has a remarkable beer can cock that he’s stroking obscenely. He stands, showing it off. I kneel and take it in my mouth. He shoots a thick ropy load at once. The sound of another car on gravel. We separate--he sits and I move to the sink as a young man comes in. He pisses and is gone before I can wash my hands. I dry them and hike back up the hill.

A black SUV is soon circling the winding road. He goes up the hill that is next to mine, where the remains of a companion shelter sits. I listen for him to come back down. He’s stayed up there. I hike up the taller hill. The SUV is parked to the right, with a child’s seat in the back, but no one is in the vehicle. Down the path into the woods? Or behind the roofless shelter’s fireplace? I go to the shelter first. A nice looking young dad has his dick out and is stroking. He turns away when he sees me, but he doesn’t put it away. He hears me open my jeans. He turns back to me.

“Suck me,” he says. “Please.”

With the bear’s cum still on my breath, I slip to my knees. I pry his fist off his very average cock, and slowly slide it into my mouth. He grabs my head and begins pumping it into my face. I try to slow him down, but he’s going to blow before I even get started. And he does, muffling a groan. Not a lot, but great flavor. He turns away instantly and just shoves his sticky cock back in his khaki’s. I do myself up and walk back to my car.

I have company. A true country boy. A carpenter by trade, with all his tools in the back of the once red pickup. I recognize him from previous years. He gives great head. He waves for me to join him in his cab. He’s already unzipped and hard. A thick, red uncut slab of cock is in his hand. I get in and unbutton. His hand holds my meat, giving it a few strokes. Then he reaches up to my neck and pulls me into his crotch. Well, damn…

I suck. And suck. He’s no minute man. I finally get him off by licking his balls until he’s pleading with me to swallow his seed. I do. And get my reward. Another sizable load blasts down my throat.

He thanks me. I take a long walk in the woods. I sit and read. A familiar car appears. It’s the first man. Again, he walks into the bathroom. I hike down the hill. No games this time. He gets on his knees and sucks my cock. I make him work. But he’s nervous. So I give him what he wants…

In two or three days time, it’s colder and the restrooms are closed for the winter. The men are gone, save for an occasional lone car. I still go out after work, to walk off some stress--but I‘m pretty much alone in the park with some dog walkers and all those squirrels.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

The Suit

Louisville--November, 2011

I was surprisingly awake and ready to go the next morning after a full night of bathhouse sex. Maybe it was because I never shot a load. Maybe it was because I was able to sleep fairly well on my prison cot of a bed. Or that food was calling my name. Anyway, I hit the road at the end of my eight hour limit there, ate, gassed up the car and continued South to Louisville, only some two hours away.  I’d napped a little at a rest area and had arrived at the bookstore just before noon to see if there was a lunch time crowd. I purchased the combo pass for both the straight and gay theatres from the overweight man behind the counter. He seemed pissed off that I made him do some work…


 
I look up into the security camera. The man behind the desk knows I’m here. I’ve just left him and walked around the corner. But he makes me wait. Because he can. Eventually the door buzzes open and I enter the straight theatre. Even at this hour, it smells of disinfectant. And men. It’s dark. There seems to be only one seat occupied of the twenty or so available on this side. I see a crop of thinning gray hair sitting in the front row. I move into the back right corner. The action seat. Easy to turn to get cock in the aisle. And the only seat in the back three rows where there is not a seat in front for easy access to me. I knead my cock through my 501’s. On the screen an incredibly built man in his late 30’s is working over a teenaged girl. I slowly become aware that I can hear the man in the front row stoking: his seat squeaks in rhythm.

I wait for what seems like an eternity. No one else enters. I still have not gotten out my cock, but it’s plumped, making a large bulge for me to stroke through the fabric. I think about seeing what the older man has in his hand. Just as I resolve to get up, he rises, walking to the door. But he doesn’t leave. I hear him move behind me, leaning on the back wall. I stare straight ahead and start to unbutton my jeans. Waistband. First button. Second. I dip my hand in. I can feel him watching me. Third. And fourth. I splay open the front of my jeans. The once white jock is looking decidedly off-white today. Every scrap of pouch fabric is filled with engorged penis. I think his cock is back out. I’m sure that was the sound of his zipper going down. Do I turn to him? Let him make the first move? I wait. I free my balls and run my fingers lightly over them. My cock is drooling. I know it needs release. Just as I’m about to turn around to look at him, the man moves into the aisle. His drooling dick slaps my ear. My head turns to him and I get a mouthful of hard cock.

And he explodes.

I swallow. I try to savor it for a minute, but he pulls out. My cock is still under wraps. He moves back behind me and I hear the ubiquitous fast food napkin emerge from a pocket to wipe himself down. It’s tossed on the floor. A zip. And he’s gone. And I really have no idea what he looked like.

And my cock kinda likes that.

By 1:00pm the room is getting more active. Seven or eight guys are watching the only adequate porn. Most are stroking. And all seem to be more interested in the screen than actually playing. I button up, and walk to the bathroom. I meet a very hot guy who’s Hollywood handsome in a grey pin stripe suit. All hair product and tight double Windsor knot. I don’t see which theatre he goes into. I find the men’s room, piss and head to the gay theatre. It’s bigger, and seats more. Which amuses me. There seems to be no one in the place, but a Raging Stallion video is playing so I stay.

Wait. I’m wrong. There is a guy on the far side in the shadows. I unbutton. He stands up and moves forward into more light. It’s Mr. Pinstripe. He takes off his jacket and puts it in the seat in front of him. He does the same with his tie and shirt. He’s now half naked. He removes his shoes. And pants, folding them carefully. His boxer briefs are tented. My cock is out and throbbing. It’s been a great show. Dressed in nothing but the Calvin Klein’s and dress socks, he sits at the far end of my row. He’s done this before. There is a pool of light from somewhere that falls on that seat. It shows off his chest definition. And the sizable cock he pulls out of his shorts. We stroke. Looking at each other, not giving a shit about the men on screen. He pulls the shorts back over his hard cock. I think the show is over. But no. He crawls slowly to me through the upturned seats. Soon his hot breath is on my cock. I turn my body slightly in his direction and he takes me to the root in one long gulp. Fuck, he’s s good. No teeth. A constantly moving tongue. Just the right amount of suction. And he’s sloppy. His spit is everywhere on my shaft and balls. I lean forward and soon his spit is in my mouth. We kiss hungrily. He’s unbuttoning my shirt, I’m playing with his nipples. He stands up, and just as hungrily, shoves his cock in my mouth. His cock is a faucet. The precum is salty. I can’t get enough. After just moments, he pulls out of my mouth.

“I’ll cum.”

I stand and with the slightest pressure of my hand on his neck, I push him to the floor. He’s back on my dick in no time. I’m not sure he won’t have a load sooner than I usually give them. He stops, huffs poppers and redoubles his efforts to make me explode. I’m close. I stop him with a hand laid on his chiseled chin, fingering the slight stubble. I pull him up. We kiss again. Long and hard.

“I want to eat your ass.”

He doesn’t answer me, he merely pushes past me and climbs onto the aisle chair. His ass is as hairy as the rest of him. I look and stroke. I run my hands over the globes, slightly twisting and tugging the hair in his crack. I kneel. His scent is all man with a hint of the cologne from early this morning. My first taste is right on his hole. It’s electric. To him and to me. My cock drips as if it had shot. He moans, huffs poppers and groans again.

“Fuck, you go deep.”

I don’t answer. I just twist my tongue deeper, pulling his cheeks apart. I have thoughts of breeding this man and sending him back to work in that suit. With my cum dripping out of him all afternoon. My cock is granite. He’s moaning as loud as the guys on the screen. I stand, slap my cock against his up turned ass. He wants it.


“I’m cumming!” He twists in the chair towards me. My mouth finds his cock and I take his salty load. He pants and grunts, calling me a fucker. I won’t let go until I have the last drip. I come up for air, and help him down off the chair. He stands beside me. I long to kiss him, but I’m not getting that vibe, now he’s shot. He touches my cock. He strokes it lightly.

“I’m gonna blow.”

He kneels and jerks it off over his chest. I shake and have to sit down, it’s so intense.


When I look over at him, he’s getting into his pants and shoes. He finds a handkerchief and wipes the semen off as best he can, but it’s matting his chest hair. He’ll at least have me with him that way.


Soon he’s put back together. He hugs me. His mouth is right next to my ear. “You’re a hot fucker. I hoped you’d come in here.”

He leaves.

And I sit and wonder if he’ll secretly shower before his partner sees all that matted hair and dried cum. Or whether he’ll tell him proudly how he got it.
 
 
 
 

Saturday, November 26, 2011

A Night at the Baths

Indianapolis--November, 2011

I had made it home from Chicago very late on Saturday night, showered the piss off me and slept fitfully, dreaming about packing the car for the trip to Nashville. Now it was packed: clothes, a book for every other day, and more movies (made before 1960) than I could possibly watch. Oh, yeah, and the stuff for work. I hit the road late in the day, deliberately after dinner. I was just going as far as Indianapolis, though I wondered if going to a bathhouse was wise on a Sunday night…
 
I am sitting in the steam room. There is no one anywhere. Maybe they are locked behind “dressing room” doors. Enough cars in the lot--so where are they?

I sit totally naked on the top shelf, my shoulders against the sweaty wall. My hand is absently kneading my crotch. Slowly men start filtering in. They look. They leave. This crowd seems to be the type that will only linger if sex is already happening. A young Hispanic, with the remnants of a faux hawk and carrying a little too much weight comes in. He stops and stares. He removes my hand and fists my cock. I erect. He sucks it, but only for a moment, before he is clambering up to my level. He rips open a condom package and snaps the tightest, most restrictive latex skin on me that I’ve ever worn. He gushes lube on it and sits. Instantly the place seems packed to watch him ride my cock. He is moaning like it’s splitting him in two. I don’t bother to tell him my cock has softened dramatically with the condom squeezing the life out of me. Finally, he gets too enthusiastic and bounces higher than he should and I fall out of his ass. I look at a shitty condom and head to the showers.

I have soaped and rinsed and am sitting back in the steam room. The crowd is gone. A few stragglers stroke or feel a neighbors cock through his towel. I sit on the bottom shelf. A beautiful young man comes in, clutching his towel tightly. Dark hair and eyes and the sexiest full eyebrows. There is a major tattoo across this shoulder blades of a tribal design. Our eyes lock. He comes to me and kneels. I have no towel, so my cock is out and showing off for him. He worships it, delicately, but with expert care. I pull him up and make him sit next to me. His towel opens. This gorgeous man has the smallest cock I’ve seen on an adult man. It’s my turn to slip to the floor and take him into my mouth. He looks at me in wonder. I eventually leave his cock and slip my tongue down his balls and then pulling him toward me and pushing him back, across his hole. He sighs. His hand flies to his dick. I have him. My tongue enters his hot, grasping hole.

“Fuck me.” I nod. “But not here.”

We are now in my room. He is on all fours on the cramped single bed. I’m on the floor. I can’t stop rimming him. He moans and reaches behind to stroke my shaved head. My tongue occasionally leaves his ass to twist and wet the ample fur on his butt. His crack is thick with slightly coarser hair. Finally I stand up. My lubed, bare cock slips in. Easily and to the hilt. But he’s not loose. Far from it. He just wants it. We fuck for a good ten minutes. Slow, long strokes. Then change up to a hard fast drive. He stops touching himself for fear he’ll shoot.

I flip him over onto his back. I eat his hole--reveling in how I have stretched him, and the delicious lube he has produced. My cock slips in. And he cums without warning. He spews everywhere. I stop fucking and bend to lick up every drop. We kiss. He accepts his cum on my tongue. He leaves with no other words spoken.

I leave the door open. Almost instantly I’m cruised by a husky, hairy, bald man with a prominent tattoo of a stylized heart over his heart. If I put him in overalls, he would look like the cable guy of your fantasies, who, on all fours, would be fussing with the connection at your house. He came in at my invitation and fell right to work sucking my cock. He didn’t seem to mind the boy’s sweet ass juice on it at all. Soon, he is sitting on my face, continuing to suck my cock as I eat his hairy ass. He’s been fucked tonight. He’s loose and ready. But I can’t taste any cum. He hands me the strangler condom provided by the management. I pull my bag over with my right hand and dig out a Magnum. He greases me, and expertly rolls it down on me. He sits. His ass is great--even with the latex. He rides with the assurance of getting fucked for the last twenty years. I see the wedding ring. I realize I have fucked him on other visits. He has an arrangement with his wife to come once a week to the bathhouse to get as much cock up his ass as he can. I look up at him--and he shoots all over me. I must have been his last cock before heading home…

I fuck another Latin boy in the steam room, with the ubiquitous latex. A much cuter Hispanic boy watches us and jerks, sweat caught by a massive amount of chest hair.

I wander into the dark sling room. There is a horde of bodies. Standing and kneeling. Barely discernable in the dim light. Countless hands feel me up and stroke me. A few dip and lick the head of my cock. Eventually a truly eager mouth finds me. I stroke his head. He’s good and I like the attention, pressed against the other men having furtive sex. My sucker stands. He’s a foot shorter than me. I tweak his nipples…and feel the chest hair. I’m almost sure it’s the Hispanic voyeur boy. He’s greasing my cock. He bends, reaches behind him and inserts it raw up his hole. I fuck. He moans. The sucking around us stops. There are hands on my ass. On my back and neck. An annoying one trying to go up my ass. There are hands stroking the boy’s shoulders and back and reaching below him. It’s so dark, I can’t even tell if he’s sucking someone while I fuck--but I don’t think so, since he’s so noisy. I am sure some one cums on the boy’s back. I fuck with strokes that smack against his ass and reverberate in the small space. He cums. I can feel his ass contract. I think I’m about to load him, but the moment is stolen from me by the hand, back on my hole--insistent I want his finger up me as I fuck.

The crowd disperses. I follow the boy to the shower. I’m right. We smile. I rinse and go to bed, twisting in my ear plugs.

I know I fuck someone raw in the early hours of the dawn. I’d jotted myself a note of “3 and 3.” But I can remember absolutely nothing about it--ah, the life of a whore….

Friday, November 25, 2011

Pissing on I-90

Chicago (and points East)--November, 2011

November’s piss party (from 5 to 9pm, every second Saturday of the month) was down in numbers (only 40 or so guys), but they were the right 40 guys…


It’s 9:25pm and I’ve just hit the tollway. And I have to piss. Fuck. I squirm in my seat for the entire 20 miles or so to the first service plaza. Even then, I don’t go in. I reek of piss. I hadn’t noticed until I’d stepped outside 40 minutes ago, but in the fresh air it became evident how seemingly every man there decided to piss on me as I was having sex…

I pull into the far end of the parking lot, piss in my metal travel mug, will myself to stop, open the car door surreptitiously, dump the contents and refill the mug again. I’m back on the road in a moment more and my mind (and cock) start reliving the last four hours.

Drinking water.

Drinking piss.

Drinking the piss of a hot construction worker type, who is all big chest, matted hair and looking to feed.
The quick fuck of my South American former model who has a terrible night as his clean out continually betrays him.

Covering and feeding two guys making out in the inflatable pool.

A fuck bud from previous Chicago trips arrives. I knew he liked piss, but he’s never been at this group with me. We see each other from across the room. Rod is prematurely grey, nicely built, has a big cock and is truly versatile. We hug. He turns and presents his ass to me. I’m instantly on my knees. It’s a hard bubble butt. I have to separate the cheeks with my hands. My cock pushes out of my yellow jock and is actually painfully erect as my tongue connects to his pucker. His asshole opens easily and my tongue is deep, deep in his butt. I lick, chew, piston it in and out, as Rod bends over, grabbing on to a passing man to help him keep his balance. I pull out slightly and spit on his hole.

“Fuck, yeah.” His voice is muffled, being buried in the man’s mouth. I look up and dive in again. And the first strand hits me. Someone behind me has let loose a piss stream that hits at the top of Rod’s ass crack. It pours down over my tongue. I slurp. I swallow. I push some into his hole with my tongue. Fuck. I rarely get this and here it is, almost first thing…

Rod is making incoherent sounds. The piss slows and stops. I start to rise, but someone else pisses a long sweet stream for me to do more of the same. Rod is jerking like crazy. I eat his hole, barely able to get air. I’m light headed, it goes on so long. I finally pull off his hole, gasping. A third guy lets fly directly into my open mouth. I swallow some, but finally have to stand. I let the piss coat my cock as I catch my breath. And shove it up Rod’s hole. Damn, he knows how to make his ass sleeve cling to my cock. We don’t fuck long. It’s a hello fuck. It’s a God-I’ve-missed-your-ass fuck. But it’s long enough that the man holding Rod let’s go, pisses on his arched back and coats my cock as it plows into Rod. He watches us. I eventually slow. The third man kneels as I pull out. He lovingly cleans my cock. He’s rewarded with a piss load of mine down his throat.

Shit. Back to reality. I need to piss again. It’s been thirty minutes of driving. At the party I was pissing every fifteen, so it’s beginning to slow. I eat more saltines to absorb some of the liquid in my system. I can’t make the next rest area. I pull off on a wide piece of shoulder and repeat the process with my mug…
I am back on the road, thinking of it all again.

Lots of guys sucking my cock.

Some getting my piss.

Some pissing on my cock before they suck it.

I remember introducing Rod to my older piss bud from Michigan. Rod’s response is to turn him around and bend him over. I spit on Mark’s hole and Rod’s big piece slides home. Mark holds on to me as Rod jackhammers his hole. Two guys close to us aim piss streams at Rod’s cock. Rod grunts. I look at him. I know he’s gonna shoot.

“Cream his hole” I tell him. “Give it to him.” Rod is spasming and bucks into him. He falls onto Mark’s back and holds on as his cock is shooting. Slowly, he pulls out, in that intense pleasure/pain moment right after you shoot. I move around to clean his cock. And felch the load. And get covered in piss as some anonymous stream sluices down Mark’s well fucked ass crack into my mouth. I almost shoot right there.

SHIT. Road piss number 3. This time I make a truckers only rest area. I fill, repeat, fill…

It’s late in the party. I’ve been watching him all night. A young man with intricate tribal tattoos, with pierced nips and a pierced cock that hangs fat and obscene on his lithe body. A pretty face, with far too much hair product. He’s been the center of attention. All night. I can’t get close. But we’ve made eye contact. Finally we meet in the back corner.

“Hey,” he says. “Would you eat my ass like you did in September?”

I smile and kneel. He bends over a stool, presenting me with beautiful globes of ass flesh. They are as soft and malleable as Rod’s are hard and muscled.

I go slow. My tongue traces patterns down his crack and on to his cheeks. I tease the hole. As he starts to whimper, I dive in hard, tongue as deep as I can get it.

“I don’t get fucked by guys as big as you,” he apologizes.

I grunt, completely happy where I am.

And a piss spray splashes onto us. I go to some secret place where it’s all about sensation. The warmth of the piss. The feel of his young skin. The taste of his sweet hole, tinged with the piss. I don’t know what heaven is supposed to be like--but mine could be very much like this moment.

Suddenly he pulls away from me. What the fuck? He turns and shoots a huge load onto my face and open mouth. He bends down and pulls me up. We kiss. His finger touches my cheek, scooping up some cum and feeds it to me. He kisses me once more, though not too deeply.

“What’s your name again?” he asks as he shoves his cock into a black jock strap. I tell him. “I have your number from when we met before. I want to get it in my phone. I throw great parties.” I sit, a little dazed on the stool, and watch him across the room, as he collect his bag from the clothes check, gets dressed and leaves. I sit long enough that my wet body begins to feel uncomfortably cool in the draughty back bar.

On the road, I realize I‘ve gone forty-five minutes without pissing. My phone lights. I squint at the message. It’s from the young boy.

“Consider yourself added. You are the best ass eater. See you next month.”

My cock stirs as I flip the phone shut. And happily munch a saltine.
 
 
 
 

Friday, November 18, 2011

MIA--but me, this time

Dear Readers:

I have not forgotten you--and God knows, I’m had a lot of sex since I last put pen to paper, or um, fingers to keys…

But on the way South I got the phone call I’d been hoping I would not get until I was back in Michigan. It’s a family death I really don’t want to deal with in a sex blog. It’s hard, though expected. In the grand scheme of things it’s a merciful release, but the little free time I’ve had has been focused on them. I’m still 400 miles from family--and headed there tomorrow--so it may be even longer before I can write.

On the other hand, I’ve really missed the connection to my readers that I’ve felt in the short time I’ve been online. While the blog comments have been pretty quiet, I’ve gotten the nicest emails on BBRT and actually met a very enthusiastic reader. We had a marvelous 4 + hour talk about sex, books, kinky sex, scotch, filthy sex, movies, piss sex, straight porn and antiques. We played a little that night, but not until it was way too late. (I mean, he showed he his jock-strapped hole, how could I not lick it? Finger it?? Fuck it just a little??? But it was almost 5am…) Tonight I hope to be doing some things with him he rarely gets to do….

I truly miss you all. I’ll be back. That’s a promise.   FP
 
 
 
PS: Ace--do you know that phone call was 66 minutes and 15 seconds?? I’d make a joke about thinking we were back in Junior High School---but it was too nice--and needed--a gesture….

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Saturday's Picture #5



It's Saturday. Which means it's time for a picture.  
So here I am getting wet--a logical picture for today since
by the time this is posted I'll be driving into Chicago
for the big piss party.


On Sunday, I leave for three weeks of work in Tennessee. 
I don't know what this will do to my frequency of posts.
I may have little time to write or I may be posting
constantly about pigs I've found below the Mason-Dixon line.

Let's hope for the latter.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

A Moment in the Dark

Near home--March, 2011
I was horned. No one was on online near me. For once, I couldn’t take the time to drive very far away. So I’d settled on cruising the porn theatre. This is the one I’ve mentioned where you buy a combo pass for a big screen straight theatre and a smaller gay lounge with sofas (where I’d fucked the boy in “The Request”). A third room is also an option, though it’s hard to use, as it feels like three booths with no doors, but not really enough room for two people in any of them. I paid my admission and hoped for a selection of men…


 My eyes adjust pretty fast to my dim surroundings. The big theatre is as empty as the other two spaces. No, there is someone sitting in the back row. I go up the two steps to get to him. He’s tucked into the farthest corner. I can see his pants are open, but he’s stopped stroking with my entrance. I still can’t make out much about him. I sit down, with two seats between us. On screen, two men are using every available hole on a tiny Asian woman. I open my camouflage pants. My jock is only slightly swollen as my cock has had no stimulation. This signals the other man to return to stroking. I still can’t make out facial features or much about him.

I just watch the screen. One man is being the anchor in her pussy and the other man is slowly working his monster cock into her ass. He stops occasionally, to pull it out, bring it up to her mouth and have her get it dripping with saliva. My cock stands up. I glance over at the guy a few seats away. That seems to really be working for him as well. I can see his dick now. It’s impressive. I can also see he is closer to my Dad’s age than mine. He has a mostly bald head, with a fringe of grey that is distinguished. He is trim. His clothes, including a cardigan, are neat. His cock is hard and dripping.

And he looks sideways at mine. I show off. Stroking long strokes. Pausing for a moment at the base to show off the full length without my hand covering it. I spit into my palm and just play with the head. But he’s staring back at the screen.

We sit.

And stroke.

Stolen glances.

He is obviously not going to suck my cock. And this was not what I came for. I almost get up to go. But I stop myself. Why not? I turn to him. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the screen and see her ass get cream pied. He likes the unusual cumshot for a straight movie too, and jerks vigorously. As the new scene starts he becomes aware of my looking at him. He turns to me.

“Um,” my voice sounds lighter than usual, suddenly youthful. “You want some help with that?” My stroking hand stops and gestures towards his cock.

His answer is to undo the waistband of the corduroys and pull them, and his regulation white shorts, down past his knees. I go over, kneel, and carefully take his cock away from his stoking hand. I feel like a kid with his first cock. I look at it. Then up at his worn face. My mouth covers his moist cock head. The tasty of his cum is strong. Salty, but good. My tongue covers his cock head in a million little twists. He moans. I slide down his length. He’s giving me free rein. No hands telling me where I should be.

My cock is forgotten now, but it never goes down. I am doing every trick I know to please this man. His breath has become ragged. But I don’t think he’s close. I finally pull off his cock and lick his balls. One. The other. Both in my mouth. His sigh fills the theatre. I work my way up his shaft and sink down on his shaft again. Out of nowhere, his soft, soft hands touch my shaved head. A finger traces a path to my right ear. He reaches down and finds my right hand on his balls. He pulls it slightly away and to his side. He simply holds it, delicately lacing our fingers together. His left hand is now kneading my shoulder. Lightly, but giving more pleasure than he likely knows.

“May I cum in your mouth?” His voice is soft, but the unexpected words all but reverberate in the big, dark room. I don’t answer. I just show how much I want this man’s seed. This man I almost passed up for superficial reasons.

He shoots. All but noiselessly. I swallow. I clean his cock. I keep his cock in my mouth. I don’t know how long we stay linked together.

Finally, he speaks again. “You’re the first man to touch me in almost two years.”

I look up at him.

I don’t know what to say.

So neither of us say anything. He stands, pulls himself together. And exits. I’m still on the floor. I slowly realize I shot right with him. His taste is still strong on my tongue. I wipe a long drip off my cock and bring it up to my mouth, mixing my sweet cum with his salty spray.

I need to move.

But I stay an extra minute--wondering if in 25 years there will be a man to offer me a touch in the dark.


Just a moment.

A moment to hold on to…

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Another Hour to Fuck

Grand Rapids--November, 2011

It had been a busy week--the Halloween bookstore fuck, the motel five-way, the surprise visit by Dean. I had spoken with a fuck bud I had not seen in several years, though we’d talked a lot online. He wanted to get seeded on Saturday night. He suggested we meet up where we had initially met, at the bathhouse in Grand Rapids. It had been awhile since he’d been fucked, so he wanted to get some cock in his hole before he took me on. Anyone who’s been reading any of these entries, know how much I despise sloppy thirds. Yeah, right. It sounded like a great plan. “And we turn the clocks back tonight, I reminded him. We have another hour to fuck.”
 


I arrive on time. It’s been almost a year since I’ve been here. The bathhouse is definitely showing it’s age. It’s had some new paint on the walls, covering the worst of the 1970’s color scheme. I walk down the carpet that needs a good shampooing. That’s right. It was here that I got into the habit of leaving my boots on for sex in the tubs. I have a quick flash of memory--this was my first bathhouse, my first sling, my first group bigger than a three-way. Downstairs is a TV lounge, a series of small rooms, showers, sauna and restrooms. Larger rooms are down another corridor. Upstairs is where the action happens--at least for me--the sling, more porn, a series of couches and mattresses for public play and a glory hole area.

I strip down in my room. I add the usual jock, wristband and get those boots back on. Harry is here. He’s late 30’s or early 40’s. A shaved head, decently muscled and with more tattoos than anyone I know this side of Chris Neal. His ink is not all related, but it seems to be by the same artist, so it really works for him and as a whole.

“No one is here!” He is not pleased. There are a few guys around, but nothing like the crowd we were used to when we met. We go up the stairs but we are met by a good looking young man coming down. I continue up, but Harry does a u-turn and follows the meat. I look around at all the play areas. No one is doing anything. Two men are half heartedly jerking to the porn on the TV upstairs. I sit on one of the couches, making sure the towel I’ve draped on my shoulder comes down for me to sit on. Neither seem to even register that I’m there. I wait around, knead my cock thru the jock, and eventually head downstairs. I check into the lounge. Eventually I’m joined by Harry on the couch there.

“I just got fucked by that straight guy.”

“The one…” My hand makes a vague gesture toward the stairs.

“Yeah. He opened me up. But no cum.”

He begins playing with my cock. A bell must have gone off somewhere announcing someone was having public sex. An older man that Harry knows comes over and sticks his cock in Harry’s mouth. Another guy who’d been lounging get up and jerks. He eventually offers me his dick to suck. I lean forward. He just gets it into my mouth before he shoots. He smiles wanly and leaves for the night. The older man is now feeling up Harry’s hole. He slides his cock in and fucks Harry a few strokes, holding his legs high in the air.

“Let’s go to my room.”

The three of us troop off to Harry’s double bed. The man barely waits until I get the door closed before he bends Harry over the bed and is plowing him in earnest. I hold on to Harry, kneeling on the bed. He tries to suck me, but he is only thinking of his hole. Soon I’m on my back. The man pulls out, Harry moves to sit on my face. He knows just what I like. His hole tastes great after the two cocks. He moves down so he can sit on me. To his surprise, he sinks to the hilt.

“Shit. I’m looser than I thought.” I start to fuck. “Let’s go up to the sling.” So I stop after three thrusts.

And we head upstairs. Once securely in place, the older man slips his sizable cock back into Harry. He fucks. I clean his cock and lick Harry‘s hole. I fuck. We attract a crowd. I’m finally getting a chance to have sex. Harry calls a break.

He heads off. I get some poor head from one of the onlookers. It hurts. I stop him.

I watch porn. Harry returns. “I need to get out of here.” We’ve been there an hour and a half of our potential 13 hours. The “straight” guy is fucking someone I can’t see on one of the mattresses. I suggest we fuck next to them, thinking there might be some trade off. I get him on all fours, right next to the other couple. The top looks pleased. The bottom looks panicked. We fuck. Harry wants to ride me again. As I lay down, the bottom whispers something in the straight top‘s ear. They leave. Harry slides on my cock. He is loose now. So loose I can barely feel his ass. But he shoots a nice puddle of cum on my chest. He’s gone in less than two hours. Food winning over sex.

In the next 11 hours:

I give some fun head. The guy wants to be fucked. I take him to the sling. I go to rim---I can’t even get near his ass. I quietly suggest a shower and a cleanout. And never see him again.

I get some head from another. Fine, nothing earth shattering. He stops after 2 minutes, complaining I haven’t cum yet.

I sit in the sauna.

I look into a room. A tall thin guy beckons me in. We exchange blowjobs. He’s as long as I am, and can cut off my air when I deep throat him. He can just choke me down. He is insistent he is going to fuck me. I deflect him by eating his ass. He will not leave my hole alone with his bony fingers. I finally have to leave his room.

I know I should go home. But I don’t want to make the drive.

I watch porn. Stroking.

I watch porn. Not stroking.

I see a couple in the sling. I’m instantly hard. The top waves me to come on over. I get close enough for the bottom to grab my cock, wrench it out of my hand and pull it so forcefully towards his mouth I grunt in pain. And leave.

I find a man who’s idea of head is to get his teeth behind the helmet head of my cock, and pull it out of his mouth, his teeth raking my cock.

I go to my room and sleep.

I wake, groggily make it to the sauna and lie down on one of the benches.

A large man watches me and opens his towel as he stares at my bulge. I wait. Closing my eyes. And wait. Shit, he’s going to leave…No. A tentative hand on my thigh. I grunt. He opens the jock. My blueballed cock springs up. He runs his tongue over it. Nice. He sucks it, leaning over the bench. He’s great--even in that awkward position. I am pretty sure I can give him a load.

And he stops. Thanks me. And is out the door before I can sit up enough to say something.
Yup, it was one of those nights. The only bathhouse I know with a twelve hour limit. And tonight an extra hour to fuck-----no one….
 
 

Monday, November 7, 2011

Wedding Band Fuckfest.

Close to home--November, 2011

“He wants you again,” typed Cam, the guy who’d asked me to go fuck his otter boy at the bookstore (see The Request). I asked him where. “I told him about your sling. It’s too far to drive him all the way to your playroom, though. Can you bring it to a motel?”

“Sure,” I typed back. “The usual one?” He said yes, and I went to pack it up and toss it in the back seat of the car…


I have the sling up. It’s tight, but we can still use the bed, too. Cam and I are stripping down. We are still waiting for the Boy.

“Oh, I invited a couple of other guys,” says Cam, folding his jeans.

“Oh?” I pull off my left boot. “Does the Boy know?”

“Yeah. He’s all for it. Jerry, the guy who fucked him with us last time and a younger guy I think you know.”

“K.”

“All bare. He wants no condoms this time.”

There are knocks at the door. I answer. They all troop in, having met in the parking lot.

Jerry is my age, with a few extra pounds, a true versatile. The younger top is a guy I only know as a bottom. He’s attractive, in his late 30’s and always beautifully dressed--but I’ve seen those expensive pants in a bunch around his ankles as he’s gotten fucked in two different bookstores. Cam is my age or older. He’s shorter, grayer and can fuck for as long as I can. The Boy is even cuter than I thought in the dark bookstore--mid to late 30’s, a true otter. He’s left a dark blue jock on.

The Boy flops down on the bed. It’s like a switch is thrown. Jerry straddles the Boy’s head and puts his cock in his mouth. The young top sucks the Boy, eventually lifting the Boy‘s legs to rim him. I eat the hole of the young top. Cam stands to the side and strokes. It soon becomes a true dog pile, arms and legs everywhere, tongues, mouths, hands, cocks and asses are stroked and licked or fingered.

The young top is up him first, taking him on all fours. Jerry is fucking Cam in the ass. The bottom’s heads meet in a ninety degree angle on the bed. I wiggle under the Boy, licking the cock that is plowing him. Soon I’ve taken over the Boy’s hole. He’s well lubed with lots of precum from the young top. I fuck deep. I see Jerry waiting, so I pull out and let him in. Then Cam. We’ve all left our mark on him. The young top spreads the full globes of the bottom’s ass as Cam pulls out. I dive in to taste the blend of four guy’s precum. It tastes incredible.

And it’s when I also notice the wedding ring on the young top’s hand. Matter of fact we are all sporting them. Jerry has a gold one as large as a tractor tire. Cam’s, too. The young top’s band is thinner. I have a signet ring on my finger, that always turns to look like a wedding band--which it might as well be. The other three men I know are married to women and look for mansex on the side. The Boy is truly living most bottom’s favorite scenario…

It’s sling time. I get him in. Jerry fucks him long and hard as I beat my cock on the Boy’s nipples. Behind us, Cam is fucking the young top. I clean Jerry’s cock, then slip my engorged meat up the boy. He’s still tight. I look down at him. He tightens, just to show me he’s paying attention--though often his eyes are closed, lost in sensation. I fuck. I make the chains rattle. The young top comes over. I pull out and he enters. The moment he starts, I know he’s going to cum fast. And he does.

“Where do you want it? In or on?” he pants.

My cock is in his mouth, but the boy says nothing. I’m not sure he’s even heard. So he gets a large, young load shot into his hole. And young top takes off to go pick up the kids…

I am all over his hole now--felching the load, sticking my cock up him to pull more out with my helmet of a cock head. Cam strokes from the bed.

“Hey,“ says Jerry, “leave some for me to fuck in.”

I slide out and take my creamy cock to the Boy’s mouth, as Jerry slides in.

“Fuck.”

I know just what he means. Fucking in cum is incredible. Soon Cam is over watching us. Jerry keeps pumping. I suggest we give the host a turn up his boy. Jerry reluctantly pulls out. I make it up to him by cleaning his cock. From the noises he makes I don’t know which he prefers--the creamy ass or my mouth suckling the cream off bright red dick.

Jerry goes back in next. He doesn’t ask. Just like last time, he cums without making a sound. I only know by watching his face. His eyes bunch shut for a moment.

“Felch it, man.” He steps back for me to get there. I go for his cock first. Once it’s shiny but clean, I dive in the hole. Cam moves behind me. He hold my head in place--then pushes me deeper into the slick ass. I can’t breathe. He knows it. He releases me just as a slight wave of panic hits.

Jerry’s gone when I surface. I get the boy down to stretch. Cam is lying on the bed. I lead the Boy over and sit him on Cam’s cock. I let them fuck for a minute, then slide in. For an instant we are double fucking, but Cam falls out. He’s not long enough to really anchor. I try again. A little more success, but then Cam plops out. I lie down next to Cam on the cheap motel sheets. The boy is riding him for all he’s worth. He slows, moves across and sits on my cock. He rides. Back to Cam. To me. And back. This time Cam shoots off. He holds the bucking boy in place to get his full load. The boy brings his dripping ass to my cock.

“No. My mouth.”

He straddles my face, facing my dick. He bends to stroke or suck me, but I pull him back upright. I want gravity to do it’s work. I’ve cleaned the outer ring, but not plunged deep with my tongue. It’s all I can do to not invade his ass with my tongue. But then it’s moving down his canal. Cam’s load. And the remnants of the other two. They combine into a heady cocktail. I moan. The Boy moans. I lick and clean his puffy hole. All the time I’ve been stroking--afraid the felching would make me shoot. I stop, lift him off my face slightly.

“Sit on my cock.”

He does. He needs to do no more than lower himself onto me and I’m shooting into his grasping ass.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Out of the Blue

The Playroom--November, 2011

I was sitting at the computer and typing an entry for the blog, when my phone bleated at me, announcing a text. It’s Dean, the leather top who needed me to help explore his bottom/sub side. He’s headed out of town for the weekend and my house would be right on the way. Did I have time to play? I typed three words: Yes. What time? He arrived on the dot, all smiles. We kissed. I led him upstairs and pointed to a chest of drawers where he could stow his clothes. “I need to go downstairs for a second,” I told him. “When you hear me on the stairs. You will kneel here.” I pointed at the foot of the sling. “Your back towards the door.” I shut the door, went downstairs and got into a well used jock. I gave him a few more minutes--waiting deliberately to make him wonder what was happening. Eventually, I climb back up the stairs--the combat boots clomping heavily on the worn stairs…

He is kneeling right where he belongs when I open the door. His gym body, slightly softening, shines in the early afternoon sunlight. I sigh. It’s still a surprise for me that he’s naked in front of me. And at my house. Ready to do anything I suggest….

My hands find his shoulders. They run down his back as I kneel behind him. My fingers find his hole. They run over it. He shudders, his back rubbing against my chest. My middle finger finds it’s way in. My mouth is on his left ear. I’m whispering exactly what I want to do to him. My cock is beginning to stretch out the thin material of the jock. I move in front of him, sit on the bed and beckon him to crawl over to me. He does. His handsome face is buried in the pouch of the jock. I pull back the right side and let him nuzzle and lick my testicles. Soon he is deep throating the entire length of my cock. He’s good. I love how my size distorts his handsome face. The girth of my dick makes him produce masses of spittle. I lean in and kiss him--sharing, spitting and swallowing.

I have to taste his ass. I rise and situate myself under the rimseat. He gingerly sits. I give him no time to adjust. My tongue thrust up and into his hole. He moans and adjusts himself--giving me even better access.
“You are so deep up me.”

I make unintelligible sounds--I’m not pulling out to talk. But he’s right. My tongue is deep. Deeper than I have ever been in him. He’s stroking. No chastity device this time. I’m stroking. He reaches down for my cock. I knock his hand away. He goes back to his own. I knock his hands away from his cock, too.
“Concentrate on your ass,” I mumble. And go back to a side to side motion with my tongue to stretch him out. Soon I give him a double tap on the underside of his thighs. Time for him to get up. I rise right behind him and push him face down on the bed. I pull him up so he’s on all fours. Remembering his needing a toy to open him last time, I grab the smallest butt plug I own. He tenses the moment he feels plastic. It’s smaller than the toy we used on him last time, but he doesn’t know that…

“May I, Sir?” He is reaching back. He helps to insert it.

I move around and feed him my cock. He sucks happily. But I want him in the sling. I move him into it, getting his legs up in the stirrups. I toss the toy away and slide into him. He takes me with no problem. The rimseat has done the trick.

I fuck. Slow, fast, faster.

I stand stock still and pull the sling to me so he is impaled on my rock hard dick.

I slide out and taste the hole, feel the texture of his ass. It’s new and different each time I taste as the fuck progresses.

I rise. “Grab the chains.” He reaches up and holds on, as I move to the side of the sling. I lick his left arm pit. We kiss, savoring the good honest sweat of sex. I lick more, and spit in his mouth. Again. A long kiss. And I move back to between his legs. I lick his hole--and spit into his mouth. I lick his drooling cock--and share that with him as well. Finally I move around to his right armpit and repeat, lingering over the slightly acrid taste. A taste we both find as intoxicating as poppers. It ends with a long kiss, before I move back to my usual position. He looks at me, knowing I’m gonna pound the shit out of him. So I piss on his cock instead. His eyes widen. I lick it off his cock, and the puddle in his naval and spit it on his hole…and then fuck the shit out of him.

I stop. Winded. I get him up to stretch his legs. Then I decide it’s my turn in the sling.

“Work my pits. You’ve made me sweat.” Dean moves around and repeats all that I have done to him. I groan. I don’t often get to relax and be worked on. Left arm--mouth. Drooling cock--mouth. Right arm--mouth. Back to my cock. He sucks me long and hard, collecting lots of precum, then leans across me. He’s a foot above me. He lets it slowly drip, snowballing it all into my mouth. Our eyes are locked. His mouth finds mine in the most passionate kiss yet. And his cock starts to press against my hole.

His mouth is against my ear. “Does Sir ever get fucked?”

I murmur a “No.”

“I didn’t think so, but…”

I stop the sentence with a kiss. But I need to get out of the sling. Now. We exchange places. I spit on his hole and enter.

“What didn’t we do last time, that you wanted?” I ask.

“I--”

I don’t answer in words. I just piss up his hole.

“Holy fuck.”

He’s never had it done. The hot fluid builds and builds. I start a slow motion, rocking into him.

“I feel so full.” And he does. The temperature of his ass is through the roof. His hand instantly goes to his cock. I fuck.  It takes no time at all before he has shot a massive load on his chest. I pull out--and shoot just as big a load on his cock, balls and pelvis.

We are cleaning up.

“You know what got me off?”

I shake my head.

“For a fleeting moment, I pictured that your cock was your fist.”

I smile at him--and murmur under my breath, “Round three…”
 
 

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Saturday's Picture #4

Fantasy fullfilment is something I really like to do for guys.  This young man was met at the door by two of us.  He was blindfolded.  His clothes were cut off him--leaving him in underwear and boots.  We took him up to the play room.  After a long, blindfolded oral session of sucking us in turn, putting two cock in his mouth and feeding him piss, he was thrown on the bed.  I ripped the hole in his shorts to get at his hairy ass.

He begged for our cum and piss.

So we gave it to him.

Friday, November 4, 2011

My Playroom--Sound

I had a really great re-match today with the leather top who needs to work on his bottoming skills. While those experiences are digesting and working their way to the keyboard, I thought I’d get back to my occasional series of posts exploring the playroom. I had pictures of the rim seat taken, but as my camera and computer seem to not be on speaking terms, I’ve decided to concentrate on sound in the playroom.

I do like ambient noise as I fuck. As often as not I have porn playing on my wide screen laptop. We don’t sit and watch porn. But it’s great to hear the grunts, groans and rhythmic fucking sounds from a good fuck flick. I try to match the porn with what’s likely to happen in play. If it’s a piss scene, any of the great Dick Wadd videos add a great aural backup of slurping, splashing and wet bodies slapping together. A leather orgy gets the same on the screen. If fisting is on the menu, you are likely to glance up and see hands working a well greased hole. If it’s a more vanilla scene, then they’re out of luck--I no longer have any vanilla porn.

I certainly have tried music. Anything with a lyric in English is out for me--I find it much too intrusive.. Even instrumentals of songs I know distract me. I do love classical music, but it certainly is not to everyone’s taste. The passion of a Tchaikovsky symphony can be incredible to fuck to--The Nutcracker, not so much. Ravel’s Bolero is the clichΓ©--but it’s damn good…

I find most opera distracting. But actually a Mass or Cantata can be wonderful. A memorable hook up lately, used Bach's Cantatas n. 170, 54 and 35, and Pergolesi's Stabat Mater. Yes, it’s sung, but my Latin is lousy. The mix of choir and soloists works for me. It can conjure up a sacrificial vibe or an initiation feel. Both are things that really get me going and work with so much of how I approach sex play.

In other peoples spaces, I have fucked to New Age and Trance with mixed results. I’ve also heard a number of the tracks recorded by gay men for sex. Some of those really work for me….and some have actually made me laugh. I don’t need a deep bass voice urging me to “Do it. Do it. Do it,” but the rhythmic nature of the tracks is a great match.

So let me open this up. As I fucked today, I would loved to have filled in the aural void.

I’d really like to know what you use? The radio top 40? Silence? If you like any of the gay sex mixes--please give me some artists, or names of recordings I should be looking for.

I’d really like to hear from you.

And I’ll get to work on my top’s first piss up the ass moment….

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

The Trick and the Treat

Jackson--October, 2011

Halloween is the holiday that just keeps giving. On the 31st, I headed for an Adult Bookstore I had only just found out about. It is set up with 6 large screen TV’s showing 4 different movies. It’s in an old stripper bar. The stage is still center of the vast room. Couches now ring it, with two of the TV’s there. The stage still has the mirror around the edge and a shelf where guys used to put their drinks as they watched the exotic dancers. Now those mirrors conveniently reflect the men jerking as they watch. The other TV’s are placed in various small rooms created by 7 foot high inter-office walls. There is truly something for everyone: Three screens for the straight movie, one for girl on girl action, another for a she-male flick. And of course a gay one. The gay TV is artfully placed side by side with one of the straight ones--so the guys who aren’t out can pretend we don’t know which one he’s really watching. With all the couches (fairly clean) and easy chairs, this is likely to be a new favorite location for me. And the pass is good all day. Come in, get off, go have lunch, come back and see who is looking after work….


Rules are made to be broken. I don’t fuck guys at bookstores in this area. But as I’m getting great head from this hot Hispanic, he’s put his ass in the air and I am two knuckles deep already. I know he’s prepared. I had only just walked in, settled in front of the duo screens, and the boy had followed. He watched me for a moment. Then took all his clothes off and tucked them under the couch. Holy shit. He’s obviously been here before! He walked over, a tiny uncut cock swaying, fell to his knees and slobbered expertly over my cock. He’s a community college student--And wants to be loaded before class.

My dick is super wet from his mouth. I rise from the couch and get him kneeling on the cushions his head on the back. I enter slowly. His ass sucks me in. An older dad comes in and strokes as he watches the fuck. I fuck, rim, fuck in a variety of strokes. He especially likes it when I all but pull out and slam my entire length up him. As much as I‘d love to load him, it‘s just too soon and too fast for me. We finally break for a moment. He’s a great kisser. That’s when I learn he often comes here before class. The cashier lets him come in for free since he guarantees others have a great time. He mentions he can sometimes get two or three loads before he has to leave.

“I’d love to fuck you with a load already in you.”

His smile dazzles. And he runs to his clothes, and is off to see what he can do.

I stroke.

The boy is back, whispering and giggling in the ear of a rather plain guy of about the same age. He has great black geeky glasses that he keeps shoving back in place. They confer for a moment. The new guys makes his way to me.

“Manny says you are a great fuck. And I’m a bottom.” All the while he is dropping trou and positioning himself, leaning on the arm of the sofa. He’s very hairy. How can I say no? I don’t rim--I just slip in. His hand is instantly working his dick. And he’s verbal. He probably says “fuck me” on ever stroke I take. He’s also in a hurry. I’ve just found the “feel” of his ass, and he’s shooting. It feels terrific as his ass clasps and unclasps around the intruder that is making him spew. It goes everywhere. He doesn’t stop talking--he just increases the volume. He thanks me, cleans up--and I have to find the bathroom. Ah, yes, why I don’t fuck in bookstores…

Soon Manny is back. No luck on another top. He gets naked and sits on my cock. Fuck, yeah. He can work it really well. He’s bouncing, lost in his own world.

And Halloween intrudes. A tall 6 footer, with rugged features has walked in. And he’s costumed as a cross-dressing vampire: black scull cap, black leotard, fish nets, high heels and a flaming red cape. He sit in the chair where he can watch us. Some how he digs out a very nice cock. Manny has turned his attention from me and looking at him, never missing a stroke. I whisper in his ear to get on the ottoman , chest down. If Draculette wants a show I can do that. I kneel behind Manny’s ass and stick my tongue in deep. Now I’m vocal. The performer is on. I rim, moan, and spit noisily onto his hole. I slap my cock on his bare butt, making sure he‘s watching. I wipe some precum on my left index finger and tell Manny to lick it.

The guy is stroking faster. I enter Manny. It’s his turn to show off. He’s panting and moaning like the woman in the porn. The guy comes over, kneels and shoves his cock into Manny’s mouth. For a second I wonder if Manny will deal.  No question.  It’s a cock.

I fuck him deep--thrusting Manny’s throat deep on the Guy. Finally, I spin the ottoman he’s on. Manny goes for my ass flavored dick. The CDer is presented with fucked hole. He digs a condom out of some fold of fabric. It’s on and he’s in.

“How do you like being fucked by a sissy? This sissy is gonna give you a load.”

Manny grunts appreciatively around my cock.

It’s all over for Draculette. He grunts, and facially contorts. And then giggles as he pull out. He stands. The condom is heavy. The reservoir tip has taken a good flood tide of cum. He stands there looking at us. I reach across Manny and slide the condom carefully off. I turn the ottoman again, just 90 degrees so the guy can watch.

And he does. Transfixed.

I shove his condom inside Manny, turning it inside out as my index finger fills it. His hole is suddenly frothing. I shove my cock in. Christ. The best lube in the world.

I fuck.

I pull out and make Manny clean it.

I kiss him.

I rim his ass.

I kiss him.

Insert again.

And shoot.

He still makes Econ 101.
 
 
 
 
 

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Pushing Limits

Detroit--October, 2011

I’d made a mistake. I’d broken one of my own rules. I had agreed to do a gangbang with a bottom I didn’t know. I never do that. I’d covered myself somewhat--I’d made him handle the party invites off the cruise site and suggested to him for it be held at one of the Detroit bathhouses so I wouldn’t be out the motel fee. He gotten a number of people signed up over the ten days since we’d talked. I’d called some men I knew. And then the silence began. It was the day after the huge Halloween party, so it wasn’t like I needed sex…but it bothered me that I just knew he was going to cancel. Three hours before the event (and five minutes before I was headed out the door to travel there…) I got the canned message saying the party was off. No phone call, no explanation for me. Needless to say, the traveler from Atlanta (city NOT changed) is now blocked. Part of me was relieved--I was tired from the night before. Part of me was pissed as hell. I called the guys I’d talked to--they were fine. I sent a text to a boy of mine who’d agreed to be fluffer for the group. He thought we should still meet--so I got in the car…


The bathhouse is showing some signs of age and neglect. I unfold the sheet (so thin from the constant washings that I could read my book through it) and slip it over the vinyl mattress. I’ve arrived just ahead of time. I’m pretty sure none of my tops will bother to show, now. But the fluffer boy should be here. I strip and as I’m putting my boots back on, I get a text. A costume emergency for the fluffer’s young daughter--before Halloween on Monday. He’ll be late--at least half an hour. I toss the phone into the locker, lock it and adjust myself in the bulging yellow jock. I tuck lube into the waist band, then head out the door to kill some time.

Nothing is happening. Not at the gloryholes. Not at the sling. Not even in the porn room. And the steam room is broken. A couple of hot butts are in the air in various rooms. Then I see a young man, pretending to text. He’s sitting on his shelf of a bed--very European haircut of his black hair, thin but worked out, olive skin from somewhere on the Mediterranean. We catch eyes. I walk by, make the circuit around the block of rooms and look again. He smiles. I step in and shut the door. Instantly his face is buried in my jock. Mouths it, and pulls it aside. He’s good. A true deep throat artist. But I want to taste his hairy ass crack. I roll him over and spread his cheeks. He gasps as my tongue goes deep.

“Fuck me.”

I need no further invitation. I pull him up to all fours and go in slowly. He is tight. Very tight. But the muscle controlled kind. I build and change up the variety of my thrusts. And am soon slamming it home. I finally pull out, flip him over and re-enter. We kiss. He starts begging me to cum. Fuck. He is milking my cock like crazy--clenching and releasing. If I didn’t have Steve coming in, he’d be getting a fast first load. I finally stop--leaving him thinking he got a load….but never saying it.

As I emerge from the bathroom and a quick rinse, I all but bump into Steve. He’s my age, (but looks younger), almost my height, hairy, trim, dark hair and mustache. And a great fuck. He’s had time to stow his clothes and he’d just started looking for me. He looks great. This is only our second meeting. At the house, he’d wanted a full out sub scene. So I’m not sure where it will go tonight.

“The sling?“

He looks at me. “I don’t think I can.“

We head to my room. He falls to his knees. I like his mouth. But I need some quality rimming time. I get him up on the bed, knees on the edge, so I can kneel on the floor. His hole is terrific. It tastes great and it responds by opening and then squeezing my tongue. I do the water trick--swig some water from my bottle and send a little of it up his ass as I rim. Finally I push in with my dripping cock. And push his head into the wall. I grab the pillow but he refuses it. I think he likes hitting his head with each thrust. But the bed is low. I am doing odd knee bends while I fuck. Finally I stop. I pull him up.

“I think we should use the sling.”

“Sir?”

“I have my blindfold. You won’t know who’s there. There are so few people here, I doubt anyone will see us.”

I lead the way. The room is deserted. Towel down. He climbs in. Blindfold in place. I rim and fuck. So much better. I have much more control and the look on his face tells me it’s better for him, too. I drive it, making the chains rattle. It’s a call to arms. Over 20 people crowd in to watch. I let them play with his nipples and swat hands away which want to play with his cock. And all but belt the guy who tries to insert a finger in Steve’s ass alongside my cock….

Steve is loving the attention. He is responding by working his ass twice as hard. A great construction worker type is jerking. I point to him. “You can put that in his mouth.” Steve freezes for a minute. Still cock deep, I lean down and rest my hand on his chin. He opens. The stud puts his cock in. I start to fuck slowly. I am sure it’s not the first time Steve’s had two cocks….but likely the first time someone else chose the dick for him--sight unseen. He’s loving it. The idea that he had no choice is making him work very hard. Eventually we stop for a water break. I thank the stud--he smiles at me and disappears. The crowd disperses fast….and then I remove the blindfold. He has no idea the number of people who saw him perform.

“How was it?” I ask at the water fountain.

His reply was to kiss me. “I’m ready to go back.”

We go back.

“Blindfold?”

“Yes, Sir.”

It’s in place. I spend a long time eating his hot, fucked hole. The Mediterranean boy wanders in and smiles at the scene. The room starts to fill again as I start to fuck. But not as crowded or as invasive. The stud is back, jerking his big headed cock. Silently I point to him and then to Steve’s ass. I pull out, and move up the side of the sling and slap my wet cock on his mouth. He opens, tongues and swallows. And the stud enters his ass. I hold Steve.

“That’s the cock that was in your mouth,” I tell him.

He’s surprised but totally into it.

“Fuck him hard,” I tell the man. My cock stays in Steve’s mouth, or slaps his left pierced nipple. Soon either the pressure or the crowd makes the guy go limp. I clean his cock off, thank him, and dive for Steve’s ass. It tastes sweet and salty as the two men’s precum is mixed with Steve’s natural lube. That makes me fuck him even harder.

Water break.

Steve needs to leave soon. We’ve been fucking for almost 2 hours….

“Sling?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He’s into it before I put my towel on the hook.

Blindfold is on. I enter him. He starts to unscrew the poppers and stops.

“I want to see you.” He removes the blindfold--asking with his eyes if that’s okay…

I take the blindfold from him. A few guys filter into the room. He seems totally at ease….
I increase my thrusts.

“Please come in me this time, Sir.”

I grunt. I didn’t remember I hadn’t before.

“Give me your cum.”

Who wanders in but the Mediterranean boy. He kneels down by my thigh and watches my cock ravage his hole. I pull out, bury my face in the hairy cleft for a moment, lick, rise, insert and shoot. His hole grasps my cock. He milks it. And slowly releases.

I look down at him. I raise the blindfold I’ve had in my hand. He smiles, sheepishly.

“I’m proud of you,” I say as I bring my cock up to his mouth.

He just beams.

.