CLAW—Day Three—The Sling Gets a Workout

Cleveland--April, 2012

The hotel restaurant is so full of leather men dawdling over steam-tabled eggs and bacon, Mark and I go down the street to a small restaurant.  They are just as packed. The upscale diner is awash in a sea of hide.  The private dining room at the back is filled to capacity with men flagging red. It’s a good thing we are in no hurry to wake up and start our day, for we sit there forever.  But the food is good.  The company better.  The waiter cute.  And nervous.

After breakfast I tour the Vendor Mart.  I have no pressing need for anything.  Mark goes off on his own, so I go back to the room and see about getting some late afternoon ass.  As soon as I’m online, I’m hit up by a handsome cub I’ve spoken with the night before.  He asks about the gangbang—then asks if I’d like to seed his ass.  I would.  His Master has given him permission to play.  He does a quick check of his clean out, hops the shuttle from the other hotel and is soon knocking on my door.

He is just as handsome in the flesh.  His ebony skin glistens in the slanting afternoon light coming through the window.  I haven’t pulled the shades.  I’m on the third floor, looking out over the parking lot and the smoking tent.  We occasionally have men stare up and watch us throughout the afternoon.

We kiss.  He has just the right amount of force--and give and take.  I’m in a used jock and boots.  He strips out of his jeans, leaving on his well worn leather vest over his barrel chest.  I sit in the big overstuffed chair.  He crawls to me and nestles his face in my crotch.  He inhales the fragrance of the jock.  And of me.  My cock is growing hard from his hot breath.  He takes it out, kissing the head and slowly, relentlessly takes it all the way down his throat.  He’s excellent.  He knows just how to suck, how to kiss me when he gets some precum.  No coaching for him.

He’s a scent pig, too.  I clasp my hands behind my head.  He cleans my pits:  my left, to my mouth, my right, to my mouth.  He’s making me sweat in the warm room.  I kiss him again, and tell him to get on the bed on all fours.

“I’m tight, Daddy.”

He is.  I can feel how tightly closed he is with my tongue.  I drill into his pucker.  Then work up and down his entire ass crack.  Then back to the hole.  I work him open.  Add an index finger to the first knuckle.  Then back to tongue.  I can’t stop licking his crack full of tightly curled hair.

I lube as I lick.  My cock is so ready to go into him.  I stand.  He takes it to the hilt with little or no effort.

“Ohh, Daddy!” 

I fuck.  He is moist.  Tight.  Clingy.  All the things I love.  And no lazy bottom.  He tightens and relaxes his inner muscles.  I finally pull out.

“Come here,” I instruct. 

I move under the rimseat, resting on one elbow to take a huge hit of poppers.

“Here,” he offers.  “Mine are brand new.”

They are.  I lie back, his black ass shuts out all light.  His ass is so full I have little room to maneuver.  I’m trapped in one place—my tongue deep in his well fucked butt. 

He sighs.

I moan.

He squirms.

I lick and swallow and spit on his hole.

All while we both are rushing off the Jungle Juice Platinum.

When I have no more air, I tap him on both thighs.  He gets up and helps me stand too.

It’s sling time.  His feet can find the stirrups with no help.  He’s situated fast and ready.  His full ass is spread, the wetness of the crack look particularly obscene in the dwindling sun.

I push into him with ease.  We fuck hard and fast.

“I wish my Master could see this.”

“Call him,” I grunt.

He decides not to.  I fuck until I have to hang onto the over head sling frame bars for support.

“Let me eat you, Sir.”

“You want this cock?”

“Yes, Sir.  But I want to lick your ass.”

I love to have my ass eaten—and for what ever reason many, many bottoms won’t do it.  We change places in the sling.  He helps me get my boots in the stirrups.  He kneels.  Our eyes meet.  We popper up at the same time, never taking our eyes off each other.  Than his tongue snakes out.  

I moan.  Loud.  Poppers make me verbal.  I tell him everything his tongue is making me feel. How thick it is.  How wet.  How fucking deep it is in my all but virgin ass.  It makes him go deeper.  I start a string of obscenities—loud, and sometimes incoherent.  Then he does it.  He stands and, with no instruction, leans across my torso to kiss me.  I love the taste of my ass on his tongue.  He is fucking my mouth with it.

I have to fuck.   I’m up and out of the sling.  I bend him over the bed with his feet still on the floor.  I slip up him.  I’m thinking I’ll shoot.  He’s totally with me.  Clamping and squeezing. 

“Don’t shoot, Daddy.  I want you on the rimseat.”  We reverse our positions on it.  The next ten minutes are a blur of poppers and tongue in my hole.  And more dirty talk.

Finally he taps my thighs.  I rise.

“I have to meet my Master.  But I can come back once he knows where I am.”

“Sure.”   But I’m pretty sure he won’t be back.

“Twenty minutes at the most,” he assures me.  We kiss and he’s gone. 

It’s more like 40 when I hear someone at the door.  It’s Mark.  I tell him a little about the boy.

Almost instantly there’s a tap.  He’s back.  With his Master in tow.  A short man in full gear.

“Daddy wants a vid of me getting fucked,” the boy says as he removes his jeans.  “Is that okay?”

Mark sits in the overstuffed chair, opening his jeans to stroke.  I’m hard just thinking about it.

His Master grins at me and gets out his phone.  The cub is in the sling.  I slap my cock on his nuts.  I hear the camera whir.  I enter.  I fuck him slow and long.

I lean in to kiss the boy.  His Master crawls between my legs and films me plowing his boy.

“Come for him.”

I’m close.  I love showing off.  I let the Master scramble up and get a top shot of me pounding this full, black ass.

Then I’m over the edge.  I grunt.  I slam it home and fill his ass with my hot cum.  I slow.  I pull out slowly—the camera lingers on the creamy ring around his hole.  It follows me up to the boy’s mouth where he cleans me, grunting and pounding his own meat.

“Got it.”  It’s the Master.  “Let’s go.”

And they do.