Friday, June 29, 2012

Sorting Old Email--a Treasure Trove of Pics

I was hoping I'd finish writing up my May sexploits before July---but it looks like that's not to be.  I'm still working a crazy schedule, one that will only get worse in July.

When my computer crashed and made it hard to access pictures I'd stored, I began going through old emails where the participants had mailed me pics of our sex.  I had no idea how many were in limbo at Cloud Yahoo.  There are many close ups of faces, but there are some good pics to be posted here over my busy weeks. 

Here is another from December of 2006. 
I'm playing with a couple. 
As is often the case, the other top (here sitting on his partners face) took a holiday from topping
--after lengthy talks about "shareing his partners hole"--
and I was expected to fuck both of them.

I did.


Thursday, June 28, 2012

IML--Piss Party with a Saint

Chicago--May, 2012

The next day, Saturday, was the piss party.  Our usual group had re-scheduled the event for later in the month to include the IML guys.  It was great to see many of our regulars and some really hot out of towners. 

It started a little slowly.  Maybe two dozen guys were in the room.  I played a little--and the next time I looked around, the size of the crowd had swollen to a good 60 or 70 men.  Men of all sizes, shapes and ages.  Just wearing more gear than usual....

I am playing in the back corner.  My man of the moment is leaning on a high stool.  His ass is spread perfectly for me.  He's in his 40's, medium height, with a few extra pounds, and a dick that is constantly hard. He has dark hair--hair that has been matted to his head with someone else's piss.  I am on my knees.  The concrete is not yet awash with man juice.  It's not even particularly damp back there.  I am pulling his generous cheeks apart and rimming him deeply. 

He sighs.

 He eggs me on to go deeper.

I do. 

I am almost sure he has a load up there.

I poke and swirl and swallow.

I stand up.  He starts to turn.  "Stay," I tell him.  He knows he is going to get fucked.  My cock head is right on his hole.

"Please, Sir."  He feels my dick swell. 

And I start to piss.  It's a long one.  I start it on his pucker.  I pull my cock up the valley of his ass so the pale, pale liquid cascades down his entire ass crack. 

He is calling me every filthy name he can think of, when he is not huffing poppers.  When I finally run dry, I kneel again and start licking my piss off him.  He loves this--and tells me I'm the raunchiest pig there.  I slurp and swallow and dry him with my tongue. 

Out of nowhere another hot stream hits him.  I don't bother to see who is dousing us.  I continue to guzzle the river of piss that is running down his crack. 

He eventually gets fucked--but not until I've cleaned every drop off him. 

And spit some in his mouth.

Much later I piss on a Saint.

A 20-something I've never seen before is kneeling in the middle of the room.  A very young group of three or four men are covering him in piss.  He catches my eye, stopping me in mid sip.  He has long, curly dark hair, and that lithe, slightly muscled body so favored in Renaisance paintings.  My own St. Sebastian---if Sebastian had ever worn a dog collar and had tribal shoulder tats. 

He motions for me to come join the boys.  I do.  I'm hard as a rock, but my piss spurts out easily.  I start on his forehead, letting it run down his aquiline nose, then let it play on his collar, his nipples and finally on his yellow Timoteo jock.   His uncut cock is hard and poking out the side.  It drips with the four or five loads of piss we have covered him with.

He thanks us.  We all move on to other activities.

Later still, a heavier man in his 30's asks me if I would fuck his boy--he wants to watch me pound him.  I say yes.  Where is he?  The heavier guy steps to one side.  There, behind him and on his knees, is St. Sebastian.  "He says you are hot," the Master continues.  "Fuck him.  You can even load him if you want."

I thank the Master and pull Sebastian to his feet by his collar.

"Thank you, Sir," he whispers in my ear.  I pull him over to the back stool.  His Master has followed us.  I tell him to lean on it.  His full ass is perfectly framed by his underwear.  This time as I kneel on the concrete, it's sopping wet.  I taste his hole tentatively.  It's sweet and salty from all the piss.

I rim.  Deep.  And stay there, likely longer than I should, knowing that his Master is watching us.  I rise.  My cock is obscenely long and very, very red.  I can't wait to enter him. 

"Fuck him."  It's a command. 

And I obey. I sink balls deep in a single stroke.   He grunts, but takes it like a good boy should.  My own personal arrow pierces Sebastian repeatedly.  He is slightly loose, but knows how to milk my cock deep inside him.  He must make his Master very happy.

I think I may cum.  His ass is constantly clinging to my cock.  I'm losing control.

Then his Master lets loose a major stream of piss.  It's everywhere.  On Sebastian's back, my legs, my boots, but most importantly on my cock.  I'm fucking his piss into his boy.  The boy grunts and loses it.  He's cumming.  His ass is spasming around my cock.

For whatever reason, this pulls me away from my own orgasm.

The Master steps in.  He shoots on his boy's face.  It's a huge, runny load.  It drips from the bridge of that Roman nose.  I slowly pull out.

"Clean him up."

Sebastian, his face still covered in load, sinks to his knees in the puddles of piss, and licks the mix of piss and ass juice off my flaming red penis....

Monday, June 25, 2012

IML--"Does Daddy Like My Ass?"

Chicago--May, 2012

I went to my first IML this year.  It's crazy, that's it's the closest of the Leather conventions to my home, but I've never been.  In many ways I still feel like I have not done IML--I have only done IML Lite.  I stayed with f-buds, not at the hotel.  It radically changed how the weekend happened.  I still had fun--it was just very different than if I'd stayed in the vortex of the seething cesspool of hotel sex...

My first night there, I did not hook up at the host hotel.  My f-bud Steve, who'd just been to my playroom two weeks before, took me to visit one of his favorite bottoms in Chicago.  I'm glad he did.

Gabe lets us in, greeting us at the door in nothing but a towel.  He lives in a high priced condo fairly close to where I'm staying.  There are "good" pieces everywhere in his living room.  The bedroom not so much.  Except for him.  He's good, all right.  Excellent, actually.  Just less than 6 feet and gym built.  Big thighs and a well sculpted chest.  And an ass of granite.  I strip while he excuses himself for a last check in the bathroom.  I am out of my clothes, folding my leather into a neat pile.   (We'd just been to the hotel to see our f-bud Warren who is working backstage at IML.)  Steve tosses his shirt and jeans in a corner.  Gabe is back.  He's added a dark blue jock.  It accentuates his muscle butt superbly.

He wastes no time.  He's on all fours, looking over his shoulder at me.  "Do you like my ass, Daddy?"  He reaches his left arm back and pulls the firm cheek to one side.  "You like my hole?"

I don't answer.  I just kneel on the floor and start licking his pucker.

"Oh, fuck, Daddy.  Eat me.  Eat me out.  Steve said you eat your cum out, too?"

I grunt.

"I want you to."  Gabe is silenced by Steve's long, thin cock going into his mouth.  Gabe seems to have no gag reflex.  Steve is fucking his mouth--making him take him to the root with each thrust.  I am pre-cumming like crazy.  I haven't had sex in five days.  I need this hole.  Bad.  I stand up.  My cock is lined up perfectly.  I pull open his butt cheeks and slowly insert the head of my cock.

There is squeal from around Steve's dick.  He actually pulls off it for a moment.  "Give me that big fucker." 

I do.  I inch it in until I'm half way home.  When he starts to talk again, I slam it to the root.  Steve has pulled out of Gabe's mouth and crawled under him to watch me fuck him.  And I fuck him I do.  Hard.  He is moaning and writhing.  Continually telling this Daddy how good it feels.  Eventually I slow. Steve comes up for air.  I pull out.  Gabe whirls around and cleans my cock.  I realize he hadn't tasted it before.  I move up to the bed, lean back into the pile of pillows and let him service me orally.  And watch Steve kneel behind him and slip in.

I can feel when Steve hits bottom.   Gabe grunts around my cock.  Gabe is talented at both ends.  He loves to take the full length, and just as I am tiring of that, he knows to switch up and concentrate on the head.  Eventually, I tell him to get his tongue into my secret spot--to try to get his tongue between my metal cock ring and my balls.  He goes crazy with my direction.  He is snuffling around.  Noisy and hot.  Steve pulls out.  Gabe is busy with my sweet spot, so I clean Steve's cock off.  I pull Gabe's head off my dick and spit some of it into his mouth.

"Fuck you are hot," Gabe groans.

"Sit on my cock."    I lie back. 

He rides me expertly.  He's facing me. "Does Daddy like my ass?"   He keeps up a running string of commentary as he impales himself on my cock.  It feels great, so wet and hot.  And I like giving up control for a bit.  Steve lies back and watches.  Eventually we try to DP, but it's not in the cards.  Gabe is too damn tight.

It's Steve's turn.  He gets Gabe on his back, legs on his shoulders, as he stands on the floor.  You can see that they fuck a lot--they move in unison with ease--knowing right where to grab the ankle and how high to lift it.  I watch awhile from the bed, then slip down to the floor and watch the big cock piston into his hole from down there.  I can't resist.  I squirm under Steve's legs.  My tongue snakes out and I lick the underside of Steve's cock on the backstroke.  He grunts.  It sets Gabe off with more verbiage about my piggishness.  When my neck tires, I swing around and rim Steve as he fucks.

A mistake.  The extra stimulation makes Steve blow.  He grunts and falls forward onto Gabe.  I'm right there as his cock slips out.  I clean it until there is not a drop of cum left on it.  He moves off Gabe.

"Eat his load.  Eat his load out, Daddy."

I do.  It's sweet and copious.  When I run out of cum, I clamber up on the bed, lie down and make Gabe sit on my face.  He settles in place as soon as I've huffed some poppers.  I lick and poke with my tongue.  I am rewarded with an avalanche of cum.  It flows out of his ass where my tongue swirls it away.

 It makes me want to add some more.  Gabe gets off me and kneels at the edge of the bed. 

I stand.


And fuck.

My cock is traveling over the dregs of the load.  It's slick and perfect.

I shoot in no time.

"Fill me up, Daddy.  Fill this boy's ass!"

I do. 

A meal--not dessert.

Friday, June 22, 2012

The Sex Party That Wasn't

Detroit--May, 2012

The weekend after all the fun in my playroom, was supposed to be my third trip to Cum-Union, but the party was cancelled.  More bad sex in May.  It seemed like an ideal time to support a fellow Michigan pig who was trying to organize a monthly gathering.  30 some guys had rsvp-ed.  But I knew how that would go.  We'd be lucky to get 10...but if they were the right ones, that could be a terrific evening.

I drove to Detroit.  The far side of Detroit.  I arrived on the dot of  8:00pm.  The host and a fuck bud of his were busy as I arrived, doing some major fisting.  A third guy I've played with before answered the door.  I stripped down and tried to get out of "drive" mode and into sex mode.  I watched them clean up from the fist scene.  Soon enough I was hard--and then in all three asses in the next 30 minutes.  Two guys arrived.  It was a good beginning.

The guy who was taking the fist when I arrived, finally identified himself as the first man I'd fucked at my first Cum-Union party.  That was nicest moment of the evening---for when it was obvious no one else was showing up in the appointed time frame, the host declared the party was over--"Oh, finish up what you're doing, but we're done...."  I looked at my watch.  65 minutes.    I'd driven twice that long to get there.

I pulled out of the ass I was fucking, put on my jeans and left.

I believe I thanked the host. 


So I've  included a picture to brighten up this unhappy post.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Pack Attack

My Playroom--May, 2012

The next night was the best sex I had in the month of May.  Warren and Harry were coming to town.  They wanted to get out of Chicago and come visit me in my sling—I mean, in my hometown.  Well, and in my sling.  To return their hospitality of when I had visited them and they’d littered the bedroom with hot ass, I invited three men.  Two showed up:  Mark, the muscled piss daddy who was my roommate at CLAW and Brad, a newcomer who had the right attitude on line, and (I was to find out) in the playroom.  Warren and Harry arrived early, unpacked and started to clean up.  Brad was next to arrive—a good looking dark haired man with some muscles. A little younger than any of us, his piggy attitude made him fit right in.  Oh, and he had a big dick.  Mark arrived last. 

We did everything you can imagine in the playroom.  I was the only top with four fully versatile guys.  It was sheer bliss.  We were all into piss, edging, working hole and fisting.  We had the sling, the rimseat and a bed to play on.  An odd number of guys also required more interesting positions than just coupling up.  I could write three entries on all that we did, but I’m going to concentrate on just one moment.  A moment right at the top.  We’d all played around a little….I think everyone had gone down at least once on everyone else.  And then the new guy got in the sling…

A pack of wolves.  Or swarming piranha.  Everyone gathers round the sling.  Stroking themselves, stroking Brad’s raging erection, twisting each other’s nipples, kissing.  I am rimming him.  His ass is delicious—a light coat of sweat from the hot room adds a little spice.  His hole is tight.  I have to really work to get it even slightly open.  But I do.  I rise up.  I smear my pre-cum on his hole.  I push in.  Just a fraction.  I watch his eyes.  They roll up into his head and he winces.  I go back to rimming.  Huge gobs of spit are worked up him.  Warren pulls his cock out of Brad’s mouth and comes over to me.

“Taste his hole,” I tell him.

Warren takes my place, pulling Brad’s ass cheeks apart and sticking his tongue deep inside.  I go up to Brad’s head and lean over to kiss him.  He hungrily sticks his tongue in my mouth, tasting his hole.  I draw back a little and spit into his open mouth.  He swallows. Sighs.  And kisses me deeply.

Warren has risen.  His fat, semi cut cock is working its way into Brad.  He keeps a steady pressure.  Success.  He’s suddenly in.  He holds it for just a second. 

“Fuck me!”  Brad grates out.  Harry sticks his cock in Brad’s mouth.  Mark has Brad’s stirruped right foot halfway down his throat.  I chew on Brad’s nipples.

Warren fucks.  Long, slow even strokes.

With only a quick glance, Warren pulls out, and Harry enters him.  Harry is thinner than either of us, but longer than Warren—so Brad is feeling a very different cock.  Warren moves up to kiss Brad.  I get under the sling, crab walk back until I am in a position to lick the shaft of Harry’s cock as it is fucking Brad’s ass.  Both men grunt in appreciation as they figure out what they are feeling.  I stop only to take a hit of poppers and then lick harder and deeper.

I watch, still under the sling, as Harry pulls out ever so slowly.  He steps to the side and Mark steps up for his turn up the new ass.  I spit on his dick and get it as wet as possible.  Brad’s hole must be open for his fat cock goes in easily.  I watch for a moment, then guide Harry’s cock into my mouth.  I clean it, savoring the taste of freshly fucked hole on his dick.

Mark is breathing fast.  For a moment I think he’s going to shoot.  But he holds back….it is just the first 30 minutes of the gathering.  He calms down, gives a particularly hard thrust and pulls out abruptly.

“Fuck him,” Warren tells me.  “Make him feel your cock.”

I get up and move around to Brad’s ass.  I squat and just look at the change in his hole.  From being so tight I couldn’t get into it, it has flowered open after these three fat cocks.  I look.  I blow some air into him.  Brad moans.  I taste it.  Delicately.  Licking carefully.  Pre-cum from three guys, and his own ass lube.  It’s a quite a cocktail.

It makes my cock rampant.

I rise.

This time I insert much more easily.  But he’s still tight.  I slide home.  I bend over him.  Mouth to mouth.  I snowball all the juice I’d just collected in him.  He grunts.  I rear up and begin pounding his ass.  Warren kisses him now, wanting to taste the pre-cum.

I fuck.  And fuck. 

Harry is behind me, licking my ass on the back stroke.

I slow.  Only to build up to a chain rattling crescendo.

“Shoot, man.  Cum in me!”

I slow.  Until I am barely moving. 

“Not a chance,” I tell him.  “We have all night.”

And for the record, though hours later, Brad did get every load shot that night….

Friday, June 15, 2012

Basement Fuck

Marshall--May, 2012

May was a mixed bag for me sexually.  I had a lot of sex.  But alot of it was just off--not out and out bad, just not great.  Mikey, the Breeder's older brother, told me it was all about the Heavens being out of alignment (I'm sure something was in retrograde, but I can't remember what) and that sex and relationships would suffer.  I didn't believe him at the top of the month....he almost made me a convert by month's end...

The first weekend started well.  By chance, a fuck bud (Dan who you may have read about here and here) asked if I could come fuck him and his partner, Kerry (the top in the relationship)--with maybe one other top. I packed the rimseat and drove to Marshall....

The basement is now a sex den.  There are couches in a U pattern.  A huge television screen fills one wall.  An ottoman is to one side, so we can fuck along with the porn being projected onto the screen.  Around a corner, tucked against the stairs, the new Fort Troff sling is set up, with an entire mirrored wall.  I set up my rimseat, knowing how much these two love my tongue up their holes.  I strip as they tell me about the top who's coming down to play.  He's younger than any of us, Black, thin, with a huge cock.  I think I know who it is.  He's a great choice.  That long thin cock--perfect for double fucking.

He arrives with a flurry of hellos and hugs.  It's Richard, the one I guessed they were talking about.  I haven't seen him in almost two years.  He looks the same.  His cock makes me look small. It's a good inch longer.  It might be a little thinner, but the slight sideways hook makes it hard to deep throat. 

 In no time I have my tongue buried in Dan's tight ass as he kneels on the ottoman.  Richard relaxes on the couch as Kerry sucks on him.  I rise and slip into Dan.  He moans as loudly as the bottom on the screen above us.  At one point, by accident, I lean into the projected movie--it looks like my shadow is rimming Ian Jay.  We fuck.  Richard takes over.  I eat Richard's ass on the back stroke as he fucks Dan.

I get Kerry to kneel on the couch, a quick rim and I sink into his ass.  The partners are turned so they can look into each other's eyes as they are filled with large cock.  We fuck, fast and rhythmic.  But Kerry's not cleaned out properly.  We break.

When the guys finally get back in the room, I get under the rim seat.   Richard sits on the seat.  His brown bubble butt is spread for my pleasure.  I eat and eat.  Soon I feel someone slide down on my cock.  It's Dan.  He bounces on me--and leans forward to noisily suck on Richard. 

Kerry is still gone.  Dan goes to check on him. 

"Give me that cock while they're gone."  I rim Richard's hole--I want to spend longer there, but he's insistent.  I fuck him on the ottoman.  He relaxes and lets me pound him hard. 

When the boys return, Dan takes Richard off to the sling.  I eat Kerry's freshened hole, but I have no desire to fuck it. 

We stroke.

I suck on Kerry's cock--but it will not stiffen.

We break again.  Kerry disappears.

Dan wants a DP.  Richard lies on the ottoman.  Dan slides down his massive meat.  I push him forward.  My tongues snakes out and licks the cock as it disappears into his hole.  Dan bounces a little, but soon I rise and slap the head of my drooling cock against the base of Richard's. The underside of my dick slides in against the underside of Richard's cock.  I'm in.  And it feels great: so hot, so wet, so incredibly tight.  We make it work for quite awhile.  Then we switch.  But not until Dan has to race out of the room for a moment.  He returns and sits on me.  Richard pushes in.  It feels incredible--but it's harder to sustain--Dan cannot stay bent over.  He arches up and off me with every other thrust.

They break.

I hear them at the sling.  I wander in.  The pipe is put away quickly.  I've it's confirmed. 

Dan gets in the sling.  Richard fucks, I stroke and slap my cock on Dan's chest.  Richard and I reverse.  I fuck.  I will myself to shoot.

I pack and dress. 

I can hear the lighter flick as I start up the stairs, likely never to return.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Get My Cock Wet...

It's summer. 

 My schedule at work mushrooms to huge proportions. 

 <Insert mushroom head joke here.> 

I am finding it very hard to find time to do the writing I want.

And worse, next to no time to actually have sex.


This is an even earlier disc I found of digital shots. 

It was tucked into a bag of porn I'd inherited from my brother.

About 2004, I think.

I think I even know who's spittle is on my cock....

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Cell Phones in Dirty Bookstores

This could so easily be a rant about guys who leave their phones on as they cruise arcades or sit in the inky darkness of the small theaters as they stroke and watch porn.  But who needs that?  I have been in three or four different establishments in the last month and have been around a huge number of guys who don't turn them off or switch them to vibrate.  But recently, I began noticing more men actually answering them while the porn blared.

I was in the front row of the theater closest to my house.  We were all watching two guys do things to one girl when the phone went off in the back row.  You would have thought that he'd be mortified just by all of us hearing the Jimmy Buffet ring tone, but no.  He answered.  (The woman on screen was quieter than usual as she had a massive black cock in her mouth so we could all hear him.)  He can't contain the fact that he's breathing a little hard--stroking I assume--and we hear:  "No.  No," he pants.  "The top left drawer of my desk."  Pant, pant.  "Under the planner."  A pause.  "I can't talk now, I'm..."  He pauses.  "...working out," he finishes lamely.

I certainly hope his secretary found it.  And how dare she call him at the gym?

Another day in the same theater, a young man was slouching against the wall, stroking his generous uncut cock.  His jeans were wide open, and his hoodie pulled up revealing a nice set of abs.  I was on the verge of asking if he needed help with getting his foreskin to retract when his phone went off.  It was an old fashioned sounding ring--and was twice as loud in the emptiness of the theatre after the lunch rush.  He fumbled it out of his pocket and got it up to his ear--all while holding on to the waist band of his jeans.  He shuffled into the back corner.  "No, sir.  I'm making the delivery now.  He wasn't at the office."  I turned in my seat.  He had the phone jammed between shoulder and ear and was desperately trying to fasten his jeans over his dwindling erection.

I know that at least one delivery wasn't made that day...

Another day, another arcade.  I need to get off quick.  My cock is through the glory hole.  Not my favorite, but necessity and all that....)  A hot mouth is right there.  It's feeling good.  Both booths are playing very vocal porn.  Suddenly I hear the Brandenburg Concerto #2.  There's no mouth on my cock any more.  Above the grunts and groans of fucking, I can hear "Yes, dear.  No.  Yes, dear.   Yes, dear.  I'm almost done here."

Well, he was done with me.

I heard this one just last night.  I was in Toledo.  (More about the reason I was in that exciting hot spot in another post.)  I was wandering through the arcade.  I stopped at the rack, looking at what movie was playing on what channel. A short, oily looking man pushed by me--the only other man there.  The back of his hand "accidentally" brushed the back of my thigh as he goes by.  He turned the corner as his phone goes off.    "Hello?"  He listened for a bit.  "Yes, soon, dear."  He assured her.  "We're just getting ready to embalm."

I fled...