Friday, December 28, 2012

FP on the Road

I had such grandiose plans.  After all, I was alone in my Dad’s house for five days over Christmas.  I could do a post every day.  Ok, every other day.  That would almost finish up my time in Tennessee. 

And the result?  I got one post done the day I arrived. 
And the one play session I'd arranged fizzled.  Happy Holidays, indeed.
Christmas with my family is exhausting.  I had not been able to do much to get ready for it before the 22nd due to work.  When I got to town, I found my Dad had forgotten it was December.  So I needed to do it all for both of us. 

I am just now recovering from it all.
So I’ll take this opportunity to thank my readers for their patience. 

I will also say that, if the weather is good, I will be going to Chicago for my traditional New Year’s Eve fuckfest.
Also--my work takes me to upstate New York for most of the month of January.  Are there readers in the area of Binghamton that need to get fucked?

And Happy New Year.  I hope all my readers have a great 2013.

Saturday, December 22, 2012

Serving (and Servicing) His Country

Nashville—November, 2012

After I’d arrived in town, I contented myself with a little cruising in the park.   And I was fine with that.  The same bottom who had hosted a sex party upon my arrival in town last year was doing so again at the end of my first week there.  I took my sling and rimseat and set them up in the cluttered living room of his one story bungalow on the east side of town.  He had another sling set up in the bedroom.  The bed looked ready for guys.  The couch in the living room had been covered with old sheets and pillows which spilled onto the floor, creating an inviting sex pit.
I stripped to my jock and boots.  My naked host sank to his knees.  And the doorbell rang.  It was quite a diverse group of daddies who kept trouping through the door:  A big bear of a versatile fist pig; a leatherman who remained fully clothed for the entire event—just baring his cock at the right moment; a hot muscle daddy who loved to eat ass—but tended to take that literally by chewing on it, not licking; a nicely muscled top; a shaved headed versatile who was at home with his cock in one guy and my cock in his ass. We all played well with each other.  The fist pig loaded the host almost instantly—so we could all fuck in his load while he went on to getting a hand up his own ass.  Men were on the bed, on the couch, in my sling.  In the first 30 minutes, everyone sucked cock, fucked a willing ass, ate hole or stroked while watching the sling. 

Then it all changed when the final guest arrived.  I don’t remember who opened the door—I know it wasn’t me, for I was driving my cock into my host when he came in.  He was maybe 28.  Everyone had seen his profile on BBRT.  He used the branch of the service in which he was serving as part of his screen name, leaving no doubt to what he did.  His main picture showed his bubble butt emerging from his regulation camouflage…

 I look up from the ass I’m pummeling.
“Hi,” says the new arrival. “I’m here for Daddy cock.  I want to go back to base dripping.”

The leatherman moves to him instantly and gets him out of his clothes.  The boy is on his back on the couch, holding his ankles.  He has a magnificent ass.  The rest of him is worked out but certainly not ripped.  The leatherman undoes his cod piece as he kneels, tastes the hole in front of him and enters him roughly.  My host signals me to stop.  He wants to watch this.  The leatherman lasts about five strokes before he cums noisily. He pulls out, wanting to kiss the boy, who will have none of it.
The muscle top is there.  He dives in to taste the load left by the leatherman.  He enters him, He fucks his big cock into him— hard.  He’s frothing the hole.  I see him reach down and twist his own balls so he won’t cum too fast.  He pulls out reluctantly.

The ass chewer is in him next.  He ignores the frothing hole and just shoves his cock in.  “Shit!” he crows.  He fucks and bucks against the upturned ass.  He loads him in no time.

The host takes a turn.  He takes longer, but he loads him, too.  Then goes off with the muscle top into the bed room to get loaded himself.
The fist pig takes a turn, but I don’t think he can cum again so fast.

Then the shaved headed versatile.  He slips his big cock in.  He knows how to fuck.  I have the fist pig in the sling, but I’m watching the action on the couch, too .  I enter my man, as the versatile guy asks the bottom to get on his knees.  He does, holding onto the back of the couch.  I see that shaved head bury itself in that mound of ass.  I am slamming my guy hard, twisting his nipples, yet we are both watching the young one beg for cock.  And he gets it.  The vers slides into him.  His strokes are deep and powerful.  The sound of his pelvis slapping against the serviceman’s ass fills the small room.  Shaved Head begins grunting loudly.  It’s all over.  I pull out of my man.  He nods.  He knows my screen name.  “Go clean him up,” he tells me.
The cum from his ass is dripping onto the sheet.  The leatherman holds him in place as I kneel and taste the combined loads in that military ass.  It’s my turn to make some sort of incoherent noise in the back of my throat.  It’s an amazing mixture.  I slip in.

“Oh, God.  Fuck me Daddy.”
I do.  I pound him.  He has amazing muscles back there.  He’s milking me.  I have to work hard not to cum myself.  I slow for a moment---then surprise him with a redoubled attack.  I fuck until he finally asks for a break.  He goes into the bedroom—where we can all hear the host riding the muscle top.  I get the shaved head guy into the sling and begin a lengthy rim and fuck of his hairy ass.

A good thirty minutes go by.  The versatile guy asks for a break.
The military boy is dressed.  I catch his arm as he passes.  “You leaving?”  I ask.

He nods.  “Early day tomorrow.”
“You don’t have my load.”

His clothes are back off in no time.  I get him into the sling.  The guys ring it.  Some playing with his nips, some stroking his chest.  The versatile guy with the shaved head gets under the sling to lick my balls as I fuck.  The host buckles those military wrists into the restraints on the chains above his head.
I stick my cock in the open mouth under the sling.  “Get me wet.”  He does.  I take it out of his mouth and guide it into the perfect ass in front of me.

“Yes,” he moans around the cock of the Ass Chewer, which all but fills his mouth.
I fuck and fuck.  I pull it out and let the man under me taste the froth of cum I’ve pulled out of his ass.  I push it back in.  I fuck more, pull out, push Shaved Heads’ upturned face into my nuts.  “Clean those off,” I bark.  He does.  He wiggles around and spits the juice back into the military butt.  Then reaches up and guides my dick into the dripping hole. 

I thrust deep. 

“Breed him,” hisses Shaved Head. 
“You want one last load, boy?”

“Yes.  Breed me.”

“Breed me, sir.  Fuckin’ breed me, Sir!”
I look down at him—this young man serving his country and serving every man in the room. 

I shoot.  A three day load goes up him.  I hold in his milking ass cunt for a long time.  Shaking.  Then I pull out, knowing Shaved Head will clean me up.  He does, though I can barely let him do it, I’m so sensitive.  I tap his head, and He turns away from me and into the dripping hole.  I let him lap at it.  I kneel next to him.  He kisses me wetly, working some of the combined loads into my mouth.
We rise. 

“Now,” I say, slapping his ass, “Take that back to your Sergeant.” 
His handsome face breaks into a grin. 

And, for all I know, he does.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Piss Party Rutting

Chicago—December, 2012

Ryan loved the piss play he and I had with Bill.  It was almost inevitable that he would come along to the big Chicago piss party.  I was pleased that it was sooner, rather than later.
We were among the first to be let into the back bar.  We stripped and bagged our clothes.  We each gulped at our water as I pointed out various guys I knew…

I sink to my knees and work Ryan’s cock out of his jock.  As he begins to swell in my mouth, Ryan pulls out and pulls me up.  We kiss.  He goes down on me.  A guy I often see at the party, who whores his boy out to the room, approaches.  He and I make small talk as Ryan goes to town on my cock.  Eventually I reach down and re-direct his mouth onto my friend’s hardening dick.  He sighs.  “Hell, he’s good,” he tells the room. Ryan grunts. I piss on my friend’s cock for Ryan to lick clean.  He picks up speed and slurps noisily. I kneel and share it with him.  The cock slips from his mouth to mine and back again.  We face each other and let my friend fuck between our two sets of lips and our two ever moving tongues.  A guy arrives from the pool to piss on Ryan.  My friend stops thrusting, telling us it’s “way too early to get off.”  I rise and put my cock back in Ryan’s mouth—the new man directs his piss onto my dick.  Again, Ryan slurps it down greedily.

We refill our water bottles at the bar.  The space is filling up with horny pigs—men of all possible types.  I go off to fuck the partner of the man we just sucked.  He’s hanging out in the back corner, where he can bend over a stool to show off his ass.  He sucks me for a moment before he stands and presents his perfectly proportioned ass to me.  I rim.  He has already had two cocks up him in the first 30 minutes.  I can taste it, though I’m pretty sure there is no load in there yet.  I work my cock into his hole.  It’s one long smooth glide until my pubes grind against his beautiful ass.  He grunts:  “You’re always bigger than I remember.”  That makes me fuck him even harder.  Remember my cock, dammit….
I glance to where I left Ryan sitting and jerking.  A man is bouncing on his cock, gruntingly loudly. I fuck harder yet, and swat his ass.  “Clean my cock.”  I pull out of his ass.  My boy swivels around and lovingly tastes his ass, my precum, and conceivably the precum from the previous two guys.  He stands up.  I kiss him and send him back to his partner, who’s fucking in the opposite dark corner.

I sit against the side wall and stroke, watching all the wet action.  The perfect bear walks over.  An old friend.  We smile.  We say hello. He spits on my cock and settles his wide, furry ass down on it.  I reach around and find his nipples in a forest of salt and pepper fur.  His ass squeezes my cock in time with my twists of his nips.  Ryan is a couple of guys away, watching, idly playing with himself and the guy between us.  The guy from the pool again makes a bee line to Ryan and hoses him down without asking.  Ryan just beats his meat harder as the piss splashes on his cock.

Hours later. 
I kneeling, drinking piss. Straight from the tap.  It’s hot and endless.  As my feeder finishes, he pulls out and another guy pushes into my mouth.  Someone else lets fly on my chest and my super hard cock. When the hoser stops, another guy starts up—aiming for the cock in my mouth.  I close my eyes.  And luxuriate in the sensory overload.

Later yet. 
I watch a young man in a rubber singlet fuck---and then obviously piss fuck—the handsomest man in the room.  The drop dead gorgeous guy is dressed in an ass-less neoprene wet suit.  His olive skin looks even darker in the dim light. His Hebraic profile and dark curly hair and beard make my cock drool.  And I know him.  It has to be.  I get up and go over.  Yup, it’s David who I met at MAL in DC and then played with in a fabulously endless night at Steamworks here in Chicago.  David pulls off the guy fucking him, and comes to meet me. 

We kiss.  “Fuck my piss filled ass.”  I don’t need another word.  He bends over, grabbing the partition to steady himself.  My cock slips up him.  His canal is so fucking hot.  A young guy comes over to watch.  He steps up onto the side bench and showers David’s back.  It runs down the crack of his ass and over my pistoning cock.  I fuck his piss into David.  The young man finally winds down his piss, jumps off the bench and squirms under us on the wet, sloppy floor.  Suddenly his tongue is on my ball sack.  Then on my shaft as it goes in and out of David’s ass.  He is grunting, as he slurps the piss and the ass juice off my cock.  Suddenly he grunts even louder.  He’s shooting, I’m sure of it.  I drive home again and David shoots on the man below us.  He pulls off me—his ass tender.  We kiss, but I don’t get off.
In the last half hour I fuck a favorite bottom on his back, as he balances on a saw horse.  But I can’t get off. 

I fuck a hot guy that Ryan has been playing with for a long time.  But I can’t get off.
I bend Ryan over.  But his unused hole will not let me in. 

Dammit, I need to shoot.

So I do.  All over Ryan’s ass.

And push the hot guy’s face into Ryan’s cum covered hole.

To read Ryan’s take on the piss party, here is a link to his blog, Spreading MyLegs.  I will get back to my tales of Nashville this week.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Jayson's MAL Barebang--another review

I don’t watch porn online.  Maybe that’s why I missed it.  I didn’t know anyone had reviewed the porn I made with Jayson Park—Jayson’s MAL Barebang.  Fortunately a reader sent me a copy.  Not that I’m named…but I’m fine with being part of “four erect, aggressive men.”  I like being told that “it’s hard not to lose your load too early….”  And anyone who’s looked at these pages knows, I agree with the assessment that Jayson is “a perfect power bottom and we can never get enough of him!”

Here it is:

Reviewer: Marc Sylvian                                  

Date: 5/07/2012
Source: Aebn

Jayson Park is already pretty rare because he's an Asian gay porn star. His frequent appearances and his enduring popularity as a bareback bottom performer make him not only rare, but also downright precious. Bad Seed Media and Chris Neal Media present Jayson taking on a half dozen other men in Jayson's MAL Barebang, a raw group fuck for those with a taste for lightly kinky amateur porn.

Wearing a cut-off t-shirt that says "Full Service Filling Station" on the back, Jayson Park entertains a row of four erect, aggressive men with his throat. They toss Jayson on the bed, where he has his delicious, firm, well-shaped ass eaten while sucking off another guy. Jayson is soon being fucked in the ass and spit-roasted.

It's hard not to lose your load too early as you enjoy the sights and especially the lusty sounds of the top studs taking turns passing Jayson around to eat and fuck his greedy ass and mouth. Jayson often has a cock up his ass and then the same one in his mouth, the dirty boy. He's a perfect power bottom and we can never get enough of him!

PS:  Oh, and my nom de porn is Charles Wolfe

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Two Sex Driven Bloggers Hit the Road

On the Road to Chicago—December, 2012

 I haven’t been writing much lately.  Well, I have actually.  And that’s the problem.  My job occasionally requires me to write.  It’s something that I enjoy, but fret over.  It mostly just takes up all the time that I would normally use to record my sex adventures.  After all, I was going to come right home from my time in Tennessee (which was problematic) and get all my hookups down there written up in no time.  Instead, I wrote for work and it sapped all my creative energy.
I have also been going through something of a sexual slump since I got home last week.    I had booked four days for a major weekend of sex.  Well, Thursday’s piss boy cancelled with food poisoning, Friday’s straight fuck evaporated off line and still won’t talk to me, Saturday’s bondage guy had the flu, and his hasty, vanilla replacement, suddenly had to go pick up his sister’s kid when it was actually time to meet.  An interesting guy did arrive at his scheduled time on Sunday—but could not stay clean—no matter how many times he tried.  I complained to Mikey, the Breeder’s older brother, who wrote me a long astrological reason about why it should be happening.  I think Mercury was in retrograde while it was in Scorpio, which rules the sexual organs…and I don’t remember the rest.  I just know I am blueballed and had no time to play this week.

That should change today.  By the time you read this, Ryan (my fuck bud who writes the “Spreading My Legs” blog) and I are headed to Chicago.  I am taking him to his first piss party.  So---two sexually driven men are off to have some wet, sloppy fun.  I can’t wait for us to both write about the same experience and see how the other remembers it….and you’ll get to read all the sordid details, too…

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

On the Tracks--the cum shot finale

I'd walked my pup and pissed on him...

It was finally time to get off.

We went back near the van to see if he could make me shoot.
He did.  With a little help from me...
I coated his mouth and chest.
Now, clean me up...
Being a good pig, he let nothing go to waste.
Who wants it next?

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Moments (of Sex) In the Woods

Nashville—October/November, 2012

I have always loved this huge park in the Nashville area.  It happens to be very close to where I stay.  I read, listen to NPR, do my homework and once wrote a blog post while getting back to nature.  And it’s cruisy.  Well, kind of.  Last year, it was jumping when I arrived and then went very dead.  This year, with less rangers around, it was cruisier.  But the weather worked against me.  It was cold.  But a dedicated sex hound will always find something…


I am as far away from the main road as I can get.  I am standing in the mostly denuded woods down by the river.  The water level is low from the drought.  Through the trees, I can just make out a dark car parking across from mine.  A middle aged man steps out.  Baggy jeans and windbreaker with running shoes—the alibi for his wife back home.  He looks around.  No one else is here.  He heads in my direction.  I hear him on the leaves, cracking twigs as he picks his way into the underbrush.  He sees my blue jacket—I can hear him stop and stare.  I stand facing away from him, making a pretense of checking how much creek bed has been revealed.  He moves a little nearer to me.  I turn and do the nod thing—one nature lover to another acknowledging the other’s presence. I turn back to the water.  He moves slightly away from me.   But I can still hear his zipper.  And then the sound of piss landing on the fallen tree trunk.
But funny, he never zips up.  I turn and walk towards him, looking like I’m headed to the path to get to my car.  He turns at just the right moment, and shows me a fat, fat cock with a generous overhang of foreskin, even when hard. 

I smile. 
He looks worried.  He says just one word:  “Please?”

I move towards him and fall to my knees…

I am sitting in my car at the top of a hill near the remains of a dilapidated picnic shelter, ignoring the work I should be doing and listen to “Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me.”  A Mercedes comes up the hill.  The driver is surprisingly young for the car.  I can make out longish blond hair, and sharp good looks behind the wheel.  He takes one look at me, turns the car laboriously around, and heads right back down the hill.
I listen to the radio, closing my eyes.

Sounds of tires on the gravel.  I open my lids just enough to see the Mercedes return.  Once again, he looks at me, turns around and goes back down the hill.
I close my eyes tightly.

He returns.  This time he parks right behind me.  I wait for him to walk into the woods.  I am not going to make the first move.  Not today.  It’s cold.  But nothing.
I look in the rearview mirror.  He seems to be reading.  I wait.  Then a little longer.

Finally, I grab an old magazine, saved for just such a trip.  I get out of my Focus, walking to the trash can with it, having to pass his car on the way.  He’s kept his shirt on, but the rest of him is naked.  Hard and dripping.  Flogging his meat to an ancient copy of Torso.  His head is turned away from me, but he must know I’m right there.
My cock struggles to stand up, losing the battle with the denim, but making an obscene bulge.  He turns.  His eyes are right on my meat.  They glance up at my face.  Then back down at the packed denim.  The window glides down.

“Hey,” he says.

“You, too.”

“Show it to me.”  It takes no time for me to open my fly and let my full size flop out.  “Come here.”
I move to the open window.  His mouth swallows every inch…


I am in the rest room.  It’s a two urinal, one seat affair.  Still open on this cold first day of November.  It’s getting dark now at 5pm.  It’s 4:45pm now.  The sun is all but gone, and with it the dog walkers and the lone runner. 
I truly have to piss---the tea I was drinking as I read, has gone straight through me.  I am just unbuttoning my fly as I hear a car on gravel.  On the road or this lot?

 I wait. 
The lot.  Engine cuts.  Car door shuts.  Footsteps on gravel, on the sidewalk.  A dark shape turns the corner.  My piss starts--splashing noisily as I aim it directly down the drain.  I can see a tall, broad shouldered man move into the urinal to my right. He unzips, but there’s no piss.  I finish up, but don’t move.

We both stand.  No sound at all.  Neither wanting to make the first move.  Then I hear it.  His hand moving over his cock.  It must be slick, since I can hear it distinctly.  At the same time we both step back from our urinal and turn towards each other.
“I hope to hell you are a cock sucker.”

I nod. 
It’s dark enough now I can’t really see his cock.

I kneel.  The aroma from his open fly is heady.  I move in.  His penis is thin and long.  I get it into my mouth---and he explodes.  My throat is coated with a hot, sweet load.  He grabs the cinder block partition and mutters his thanks in the last of the autumn light.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012


On the Road in Kentucky—October, 2012

I am up early the next morning, even after my night of sex at the bookstore in Louisville.  After breakfast, I was on the road early, wanting to get to Nashville before lunch—just a three hour journey—no problem.  An hour into the trip, all the southbound lanes slowed.  Then we stopped.  After 30 minutes of a full stop, we inched forward for about two miles and then stopped again.

I turned off the engine.
We sat for over an hour.

Then we began inching forward.  Just for another mile or so.  I noticed I was within a mile of the exit where the only adult bookstore in middle Kentucky is located.  I inched forward.  And sat some more.  An hour later I took the exit.  The surface streets were jammed as everyone tried to take the old state routes south.  I turned the other way, ate a tremendously greasy chicken breast at a gas station (the only food at the exit) and headed for the bookstore.  It has the most expensive entry I’ve ever encountered, but I would rather cruise for several hours than sit stock still in my car.  The parking lot was jammed with cars and tons of semis.  Obviously I was not the only one with that idea…

I am buzzed in.  The set up is nice.  One large room has straight videos playing on a large screen television.  The seating is a sea of love seats.  Around a corner is a slightly smaller room with another large screen television showing all male movies.  Love seats are scattered haphazardly around this room as well.  Down a twisting corridor is the arcade—maybe 14 booths, most with gloryholes.
There are easily 25 guys in the place.  Likely more, since we are so spread out.  And no one is playing.  Not a single cock out and jacking, much less a blow job.  I cruise the arcade.  No one lingers in a booth long enough to start anything.

I go back to the gay theatre.  I take the bull by the testicles, so to speak, and open my fly.  It’s a boring movie, but I get hard and stroke.

 Suddenly, everyone is in the room. 
Looking. Just looking.  And groping themselves.

I make a show of playing with my cock head.  I thumb my piss slit and bring it up to my mouth.
The guys are a mixed bag of hot rednecks, out of shape older guys, and a few young guys who would rather smoke than have sex.  Finally a man, who looks a little like James Mason in Lolita, inches over.  He sits next to me, right on the edge of my loveseat.  “I want that,” he whispers is a deeper southern drawl than I somehow expected.  He reaches out a tentative hand.  He strokes it.  His hand is so soft, his grip so loose, I can barely feel it.

“Suck it,” I tell him.  He gasps, lets go as if I’d burned his hand and flounces out.

Suddenly, things heat up.  In the far corner a young Hispanic has knelt to suck one of the Daddies.  He’s doing a fine job.  He has pulled his pants all the way down to expose his hairy, brown ass as he leans forward to suck.  I almost get there in time, but I’m beaten out by a hot trucker.  “Come on.”  He pulls the Hispanic up.  “You want to get fucked?” 
The young man nods.  “You got condoms?” he asks.

“I’m married.  We don’t need them.”  He shows his wedding ring to the young man, as if it were the answer to everything.  The young man starts to say something, but the trucker hustles him away into the darkness of the arcade.  I never see the young one again.
I get some head in the privacy of a booth. 

Then get some out in public.
I talk to a trucker and learn that a truck has exploded about 5 miles farther south.

Suddenly the truck driver top is back.  He sees me.  “You have a big cock.”
I nod.

“Let me taste that.”
In the middle of the gay area he kneels.  I undo my pants and let him suck.  We are ringed by onlookers.  “Nice,” he grunts.  He takes me down his throat.  He’s actually better than I expect.

“Damn, that makes me want to get fucked.”  He stands up and bends over the back of a love seat.  “Stick it in raw, man.  I’m married so I’m safe.”  I sigh….but I do it.  The response is electric.  We spark at least three groups of men into play.  Any direction I turn as I plow into him, I can see sex happening. 

 Hours later I hit the road and sail into Nashville.  Ten hours late.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Bookstore Fuck and Suck

Louisville—October, 2012

Every year, my job takes me to Nashville for a few weeks.  I left a day early, right at the end of the month.  I really wanted to bed (well, perhaps I should say, sling) the man who was the first entry in this blog—so I made sure that I would overnight in Louisville.  He proved to be unavailable, so after I got into my motel, I got online.  There was next to no one cruising.  I changed into old clothes and went to the great bookstore in the area—ready for anything—and got a little of almost everything a bookstore can offer…
It’s Friday.  Both theatres are open.  I get the combo pass—I can go back and forth between the gay and straight theatres.  The door buzzes to admit me into the straight one.  I hear a woman’s high pitched moan.  The screen is ablaze with James Deen thrusting balls deep into a slim blonde, while he throws her around like the proverbial rag doll.  There has been work done to this room since I was last here.  Chairs look repaired and there is now a convenient shelf to sit along the back wall.  There is one man in the back row of the seats.  He is kneading his crotch through the fabric of his pants.  Another man slouches against the side wall, staring at the screen.  I sit on the new shelf, right in the center, so the man in the back row can turn and see me undo my jeans.  I take out my growing cock.  The man on the side wall takes off.  The sight of my hardening cock emboldens the man.  He looks to be slightly younger than I, trim, and with a large mound in his khakis.   He unzips.  Now his hand is on striped underwear.

The door buzzes.  He covers himself.  I get harder and stroke deliberately.  The guy who walks in, I recognize from my last trip there: a hungry cock sucker I’d turned the tables on.  He’s a little older than I, with a pronounced nose and olive colored skin. I notice he is graying around the temples.  When he sees me he removes his jacket, sits down beside me and, pulls his track pants down.  His curved cock is rampant.  He also hoists his tee shirt up, hooking the bottom of it around the back of his head, revealing a mass of dark curly hair and stand up nipples.
And he’s down on my cock.  Instantly to the root.  An oral master.  He moves off the bench and kneels in front of me.  He wants a better angle.  I let him suck for a bit, then stand up and fuck his face.  This makes the man in the back row get up and move closer to us.  He’s now stroking his cock through the fabric of his striped underwear.  Eventually I pull my cocksucker up.  I kneel and give him a little head in return.  Before I can really get going, he bends over so I can’t keep on his cock.  I know what he’s doing.  He has the other guy’s cock deep in his mouth.  I squirm out from between them.  The man who was hiding his cock has a monster.  The sucker is taking him as deep as he can work down on it.  Finally he stops and says, “You try.”

I kneel again.  I take the monster cock in my mouth.  I think I get about half of it down my throat.  I need air.  I pull back up.  The sucker bends over and takes it in his mouth.  I go for the balls which are retracting on the monster.  He grunts and shoots the first few jets of cum into the sucker’s mouth—then pulls away.  “Don’t waste it,” I bark, but it’s too late, he empties the rest on the floor.  The sucker turns my head to him and gives me a cummy kiss…
Monster cock pulls himself together and leaves.  The sucker settles on the bench, playing with his nipples.  He must need to leave, too—it’s his signal he wants to cum.  I settle between his legs and take his slightly hooked cock easily down my throat.  In no time at all he is blasting a load into my gullet.  He kisses me and exits…..

All in the first 25 minutes…..
I go over to the gay side.  There is a new build out there too.  Behind the seats is a wall that is about chest high….perfect to stand at and stroke if you are shy---or to lean against for support during any action.  It creates a dark space—so you can barely see the cock you are playing with…

I suck some cock.
Guys suck me.

An hour or so passes.
The door buzzes.  I am sitting in the back row of the gay side.  A pretty good, leatherish, All World’s Video is on the screen.  In walks a young man.  He is in grey sweats and a maroon hoodie.  College age or just out.  He looks at me in the back row.  He looks at the man standing against the wall.  Then at the 20-something jerker in the front row.  He ambles down the four rows of seats—he’s headed to the young jerker.  No, he passes him.  He walks all the way around the 2 dozen or so seats, and makes his way to me in the back row from the other side.  He sits right beside me.  My cock is dripping pre cum just looking at him.  He slides his sweats down, showing off a nicely curved 7 incher.  His hands grope for my cock.  “Jesus.”  He starts stroking it—just as my hand finds his dick.  He tugs at me—“Come back here.”  We get up, barely pulling ourselves together to walk behind the partition.  The man leaning against the wall looks at me with absolute hate in his eyes….and stomps out of the room.

The boy is leaning against the wall, his cock out, his hoodie unzipped.  I run my hands over his chest and abs—he could be a gymnast.  His cock is dripping now as much as mine.  I go down on him.  He sighs and relaxes against the wall.  When I feel he’s close, he stops me and pulls me up.  He kneels in the gloom and engulfs my cock.  Or tries too.  His technique is toothy.   But I grin and bear it.  When he stands up, I go back down on him, but almost instantly I turn him around.  He has a great gym-worked  ass.  Hard and fuzzy.  I pull the cheeks apart.  He bends, supporting himself on the wall.  My tongue finds his furry ass crack.  He moans.  We are joined by the jerker—jerking.  I’m right there.  My tongue enters his young pucker.  Now he groans.  He lets me eat him out for a long time.
I come up for air.  “Fuck me,” he whispers.  I am about to tell him I don’t have any Magnums on me, when he adds, “Raw.”

I just nod.  And drop back to eat him a little more.  I work a ton of spit into his hole.  I grease my cock with just a small smear of lube.  I am going to have to be careful that I don’t blow instantly—I’ve had a lot of play and a lot of time there. 
I stand up.  I slip into him.  Like he was made for my cock.  No stress at all—but tight and clingy.

 He moans. 
The jerker jerks.

I fuck.  Slowly—more for myself than for him.  But soon I am slamming into that hard bubble butt.  I am getting close.  Fast.
And he cums.  It must shoot all over the new wall, but I can’t see it in the blackness.  He pulls off me…and my own potential orgasm subsides to nothing.  He lets me clean his cock a little.  Then pulls himself together, thanks me and takes off.

If this was fantasy--- I would have bred him—or taken him home for an all night rut in my motel.  But, no…but damn, he was hot….
Another hour or so passes.  More head given and gotten.

I go back in the straight theatre.  It’s late.  I know I should leave.  I stand just inside the door way.  Two guys are sitting on the new back ledge.  Both are stroking.  Both near my age.  The one closest to me has a mustache and is in dress clothes.  The other, slightly more portly, has on jeans and a flannel shirt---straight from the semi I’m sure he’s parked in the overnight lot behind the theatre.  Both have nice cocks.  And wedding bands that glint in the light from the projected video.  They don’t eye each other.  They just stroke and make an occasional comment about the girl between the two men on the screen.
I watch them for a while.  They seem oblivious to me.  Finally I sit down between them.  I pull out my cock.  I stroke with them.  Comments have stopped.  Just the sound of our hands and lube on cocks.

Finally—“Help a guy out?”  It’s the business type.  He’s looking at me.  He has stopped stroking to show off his cock.  Wordlessly I slip down to the floor.  I take him to the root.  I begin to suck in earnest.  He cums.  Silently, but for a slight intake of breath—from all those years of making sure not to wake the kids when he shoots.  I am aware of the trucker watching us as I clean his cock.  I stay on the floor as the business men zips and leaves.
“Come here, man.”  He says it low.  Not a command, but asking for service.  “Give me some of that hot mouth.”  I expect him to want me to rinse my mouth out from my water bottle, but no.  He just wants head.  Now.

I have to work really hard to get him off.  He occasionally touches my face—and seems thrown when he encounters a beard.  But he shoots.  And whimpers for a second.  Then—“That was really nice.  I’ll sleep well now…”  He does up his jeans without cleaning his cock off.  He ambles out into the hall. 
I’m left alone on the floor, my cock rampant.  I hear James Deen behind me, fucking loudly and about to shoot across the blondes face on screen. 

I look down at my cock and let one large drop of saliva mixed with jizz fall on the shiny shaft. 
I close my eyes.

I stroke…

Thursday, November 22, 2012

A Thanksgiving Piss

I've been traveling out of state--and I am incredibly behind on my posts.
Here in the United States, it's Thanksgiving.
A great day to count your blessings.
While I will be spending it with my family in Michigan--
I can't wait to re-connect with all my local men.
I am thankful for all of them...
and for every one of their kinks.
That also includes all my pervy readers...
Thank you.

Friday, November 16, 2012

Tramp Stamp

My Playroom—October, 2012

 I was planning on taking the day off from sex.  October had been a great month for me.  I’d had all sorts of sex with a lot of men.  But then BBRT started blinking, just as I was about to log off and pick up my book.  He was young.  He was up from a big gay city in the deep South. He was visiting family—who were driving him crazy.  He was away from his estranged boyfriend.  “I need some seed,” he wrote.  He opened his pics.  He had an ass that begged to be eaten and fucked.
He could be at my house in 35 minutes.

He arrived, five minutes late.  Breathless.  He didn’t have the time he thought he would.  “Can we make this a little shorter than what we said?”
I nodded, and took him upstairs and told him to strip.  He was out of his clothes in no time, keeping on only a pair of red briefs.    I took my time stripping out of my 501’s while looking at him:  late 20’s, 5’ 8” or so, lithe and wiry, a small patch of hair on his chest but incredibly hairy legs.  And a tattoo on the small of his back.  A Celtic design of some sort…

He falls to his knees.  “Oh, I need that cock.”

I’m hardening just looking at him.  His mouth is all over me.  He’s excellent.  No teeth at all.  And taking me to the root.  I grab his ears and hold him still—then begin to fuck his face.  He groans around my cock.  I plunge it down his throat, grinding my pubes into his nose.  Then retreat, letting him breathe again.  And back.  I hold it for a couple of seconds longer.  When I pull out, he’s gasping for breath.
I push him rough down on the bed.  “All fours.”  I strip off his briefs.  His ass is gloriously full for one so lean.  And hairy.  I dive in.  He still smells of soap from his shower.  I eat him out until I can taste nothing but him.  I stand.  I push just the head of my cock in.  He flowers open and takes it with nothing but spit.  I pull out.  “Taste your hole.”  No hesitation.  He cleans my cock head, delighting in his juices and my saliva.  I look back down at his ass.  And the tattoo.  It hits me.  It’s Celtic alright.  Now.  But it was a bio-hazard tat he thought better of and had the artist augment it into the new design. 

I say nothing.  I just stick my cock in his ass.  All of it.  To the hilt.  “Fuck,” he yelps.

“That’s what I’m doing.”  My balls slap on his tight balls.  I fuck—giving him all of my cock on each stroke.
“Please.  Can I get off my knees?”

I help him up and into the sling.  I eat his ass again.  With his legs in the stirrups and after my punishing fuck, he’s wide open.  My tongue goes far deeper into his hot, moist channel.  He is groaning and bucking and beating his meat.
I rise and stick my cock back in.  “Oh, God….he grunts through clenched teeth.  His hand catches my wrist.  He pulls me down on top of him.  My face is right on his—his mouth to my ear.  “Call me names.  Please.”

I stand back up.  Just looking at him.  My cock still buried, but not moving.
“Please, Sir.  You know what I am…”

I can do this for him.  I feel the sneer move across my face.
“Sure, faggot.”  The tempo of his jerking picks up.  “I know just what you are.”  My thrusting is beginning.  “I know just what kind of whore you’ve become.”  My body is bashing against him now.  “Fucking cheater.  You only care about some big cock in you.  Right?  C’mon, whore---answer me.  I saw what you are…”  I am pummeling his upturned ass now with my hips.  His hand is a blur as he jerks his cock.  “You’re nothing but an AIDS whore.”

“ARGHH!!”  He shoots.  His ass contracts and I shoot.  I spasm and fall onto his sticky chest.  We’re still connected—cock to ass.
“Thanks,” he gasps. “That was perfect…”