Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Happy Halloween

Since I don't have any pictures of me fisting a pumpkin,
 or putting a new spin on bobbing for apples...
This is an out take from the first leather photo shoot I did with a f-bud/friend. 
He works professionally within the the porn industry, taking stills for a very well known company.
It amuses him to shoot me when he's in Michigan.
The payment for this shoot was simply for me to drink his load of piss...
He seems to have liked it...
Happy Halloween!

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Alone with Cum Hound--and a world-wide audience

Lansing—October, 2012

I have known the Cum Hound for a long time, yet we have never met for a one on one.  He loves to get fucked.  He loves cum.  He loves taking loads for me to felch.  We meet up every few months.  We usually meet at a truly sleazy motel in the Detroit area, and I would be one of a number of guys there to fuck him.  We  meet in different cities, at times, to get different dick up his hole.  Even when he came all the way out to my playroom, I recruited the one lone top in my tiny town to give him a load for us to play in.  We had talked about the fact that it was time to meet on our own—but then I arranged a mystery top to come in and fuck him once he was blindfolded. 
This time I had no tricks up my sleeve.  We’d fuck alone.  He wanted some pushing of his limits of pain.  I’d set up the sling and rimseat in a cheaper motel in Lansing.  Our added spice was that we decided to broadcast it on TIM’s Fuck Roulette.

“Get on the floor.”  I point to under the rimseat. Cum Hound eagerly gets under the open seat.  He loves to rim me.  I sit.  The camera on his laptop picks me up perfectly framed.  His tongue connects with my ass.  I watch my cock go from semi-hard to fully erect.  I let it bounce, as I remove the poppers in the waistband of my jock.  I take a deep hit.  He grunts as he works deeper.  An image of a young man stroking appears on the ‘who’s watching’ screen.  He sees a toilet seat, and quickly clicks away from us.  I’m luxuriating in just sitting and being serviced as I stroke.  We pause at least once for him to take a hit.  Then I sit again for his more frenzied rimming of my now wet hole.  I look over at the screen.  A handsome Black man is watching us.  He eventually clicks away—and I get up.

“It’s sling time.”  I get him over to it—after we re-position the laptop on the bed to catch the business end of the sling.  It’s positioned so I can see my cock slap on his ass.  I dip and rim him, but his tongue has gotten me more than ready to fuck. 
I shove in.  He grunts a “Yes” and I am in to the hilt.  My balls slap his ass.  “Fuck me, Sir.”  I pull almost all the way out. And slam in again. I fuck faster.  There is an older leatherish-looking man watching us now---his cock looks huge, it’s so close to his camera.  He is pulling his foreskin over the head of his cock and slowly working it back down--making a show of it for us.  I pause, taste the Cum Hound’s ass and then push my cock right back in.  I hear the man on the screen grunt—when I look over, he’s gone.

I work the Cum Hound’s nuts.  Much in the same way as I detailed in Pain Pig.   He howls, every bit as loud.

I bring out some toys.  The first one in his ass has a large egg as the head, then a slender shaft.  The Cum Hound gasps as the egg pushes him wide open.  He clamps down on the ribbed shaft.  I work it in slowly.  I pull the end of the shaft up.  Then down.  Then from side to side.  CH is moaning.  He is loving this.  I push the base down again and add my cock alongside it.  It fits perfectly.  My cock pushes up to the base of the egg.  “Argh!”  He is stretched wide.   “Fuck me with that thing.”  I pull back, then fuck forward, running the underside of my cock over the ribs.  It feels terrific.  For both of us.  I keep it up for a long time.
We have a new man jacking as he watches us.  He’s young and hung.  And likes what he sees.  I look over—pull my cock out roughly and then work the toy out of his ass.  I show it to the camera.  I put it right back in.  I slip my cock into his hole.  And a finger along the side.  CH grunts.

When I get bored, I pull myself out, along with the toy and go for the speculum.  I don’t think he’s ever had it in him.  The stainless steel device slips in easily after all the stretching.  Then I begin the slow crank open.  The medical istrument opens laterally, covering the sides of his ass leaving the top and bottom of his canal for me to fondle.  He groans as my finger thumps against his prostrate.  He’s purring as I run my index finger down the whole length of his gaping hole.  I stand up.  I’ve cranked it open wide enough to just work my thick cock head in.  It feels terrific as the cool metal is on either side of my shaft, and his hot flesh is above and below. 
“Oh, Sir.  That’s amazing.”

I think so, too.  I’m up him for long time.  The young man online loves this—he is leaning towards his computer screen.  I pull out.  My cock feels the largest it’s been all day.  I slap it hard on his balls.  CH squeals in surprise.  I plunge back in.  “FUUUUCK,” he crows.
When I finally stop, I pull out and make him clean my cock.  ATM is expected and relished with the Cum Hound.

I blindfold him.
“I have a surprise for you.”

He shivers in anticipation.  I grab it out of my bag, and lay it on his stomach.  He hears the clink and feels the weight.  “Fuck,” he murmurs.  It’s a chain.  About 18 inches long.  One I’ve had for a while-- one that the few rough edges have been filed away..
I Crisco his hole.  And the first few links.  It goes in easily.  “It’s so heavy,” he breathes.  I keep adding links.  He takes them— all but the last two—I hold onto those. I tap his stomach.  You can hear the chain clink in his gut.

“Ready?”  Without waiting for an answer, I pull slowly.  Each link pops out of his well-used hole.  A shipyard version of balls on a string.  He’s breathing rapidly as each link pops out.  Finally, the final four links fall out of his ass—the weight of the chain pulling them out fast.  I lay the extended chain on his chest and abdomen so he can feel how much he took.
“Once more.  Please, Sir.”  I smile though he can’t see it.

They go in faster this time.  And come out faster too.
A few pictures—then:  “It’s breeding time, boy.”

“Yes, SIR.”
I’m in and pumping hard.  “Take it.”

“Give me your cum,” he mutters, half to me and half to himself.  “Shoot it.”
I convulse.

I shoot long and hard up his hole. 

As I straighten up, my white jizz drips from his hole.  I notice there is white cream all over the video watcher’s cock, too…



Monday, October 29, 2012

On the Tracks--the new photo shoot, Part 5

When last seen, I was getting blown in the van.  The photographer wanted a change of clothes.
My dirty yellow jock got him excited.
"Get me hard.  I can still piss...."
"You want it?"
"Here it comes...."
"There you go...."
"Swallow it all, pig...."
to be continued....

Friday, October 26, 2012

Pain Pig

My Playroom—October, 2012

I had a flurry of activity in early October.  This was good, since I had eleven days in the middle of the month, when the playroom had to be converted back to a guest bedroom.  First up was Martin.  When I first saw his pictures, all I could focus on was his hairy chest.  He was delightfully furry—I couldn’t wait to wet it down and wring it out with my tongue.  Martin is my age or perhaps a few years younger, bearish, and much more into BDSM than I am.  He is a real pain pig.   He brought a ton of toys many of which stayed in his bag, but he had smaller dildos than the few I possess for my fisting boys.  He had an electro set—something that I have no interest in; a violent wand—which I was willing to use but we never got to it; and sounds—which I am intrigued by, but want a tutorial in how to use them, before I incorporate them into play.  He also wanted condoms—so out came the Magnums.
He was intrigued by watersports and said that he certainly wanted to get fucked, but it wasn’t as important to him as being made helpless in the sling and abused….

So I started with forced fellatio, with him in nothing but a red jock and a black t-shirt.  He gagged easily.  Soon he was bent into the sling, holding on to it, his chest on the leather, with his furry ass in the air.  The piss came out of my cock in a torrent.  It covered his crack and dripped onto the mat below.  I licked him clean, slipped on a condom and began opening his ass—using my cock to prod at his pucker.  I finally entered his tight hole—but I could tell my cock hated the latex.
Soon he was flipped and in the sling properly.  I ripped open his t-shirt.  I clipped his leather bound wrists to the chains above his head.  I added a hood that only had a mouth opening.  I chewed on his nipples.  I attached a set of tit forceps to his full, pointy nipples.  He groaned.  Now we were headed into his territory.  I tied his cock up to the remains of his shirt.
Then I used clothes pins on his balls.  Martin began squirming in delight…
I let the clothes pins stay in place.  My piss arcs out again.  I cover his hairy chest, and then concentrate on his balls.  The excess runs down his ass crack.  “Yes, Sir.  That’s so hot.”
I tongue some of it off his balls.  My piss is sweet.  I suit up and enter him roughly.  It’s the last thing he was expecting.  My fucking is making the pins rock back and forth, pulling on his flesh.  With my cock still in place, I begin removing the clothes pins on his balls.  That’s when the real pain happens—as the blood rushes back to the abused flesh.  Each pinned area is rubbed with my fingers to help the pain.  He gasps with each removal and his ass contracts on my cock.  His balls are fiery red.  I pull out of his ass and throw the condom onto the floor.  I grab a leather paddle and a plain hardware store paint stirrer.  With my left hand I choke his ball sack right at the base of his cock.  His balls plump.  I twist my left hand tighter until his sack is shiny.  I flick the leather paddle across them.  Lightly.  He still jumps, as he can’t see a thing.  I flick again.  Then harder.  I take the paddling down to almost a caress with the leather.  Then I whack them as hard as I can. 
He screams.  This is what he wants.
I give him another.  Then let go and stroke and caress them back to normal.  I pick up the paint stick.  I snap it against his balls.  He howls.  I gather up the sack again.  Once shiny, I whack them repeatedly.  His breath is ragged.  I slow.  Then stop.  I rub them again.
“Oh, Sir….”  He’s right where he wants to be.
I remove his tit forceps and a set of clothes pins I’ve added up there.  I rub.  He thinks I’m done.  Instead, I scoop up his balls again, tighten them down to shiny orbs and punch them. 
He screams.  One word.  “YES!”
I hit them again—though with less force.  Then a softer one yet.  Then I pound the shit out of his balls—four hard whacks that leave him gasping for breath. 
I spit on them.
And start all over again…
Eventually, I used the speculum.   I cranked him open and ran my fingers over his prostate. 
That got him off.  I have to say, I never did shoot myself, but I still enjoyed dishing it out.
That night, I got what looked like a gift from the Gods:  A big city young man, staying with his parents in the boonies, who needed to be loaded.  He arrived.  Cuter than his pics.  He cleaned out and got on the bed.  It was heaven to slip into a young ass with my bare cock after the latex of the afternoon.  Then it went bad.
He tried a clean out again.  And got in the sling.  I slipped in…and it was worse.
He tried once more--then we called it a day.  Neither of us getting what we needed…

Tuesday, October 23, 2012


Yesterday I got an email. 
I was sent the the picture above. 
There was all of one line of text.
"Isn't that you, man, in Jayson's hot ass?"
I wrote back the briefest of replies:  "Yes."

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Turning the Tables

Near Home—October, 2012

 I have been back to a chaotic work schedule that has left me with no time to write. Add to that, my playroom has reverted to a bedroom, and worse, I’ve had no time to have any kind of sex.  Last night I had some time, but no place.  And online, not one interested man wanted to host.  What was my dick to do?  Go to the bookstore.  A Wednesday night—but it was fairly busy.  Almost instantly I was sucking off a cocky fucker in the front row of the theatre.  (A cute young man left in a hurry when he saw me go down on him.)  I looked up as I was deep throating his hard twenty-something cock and saw that he had his lips around a large ebony cock.  Good times.  I got both of them off, swallowing both loads, while receiving only half assed head in the process.

I move to the aisle seat in the back row. 
I watch some really sleazy straight porn all by myself.  It’s a whole movie of two guys putting both their cocks in the young woman’s ass.   Occasionally they screw her in the usual hetro DP fashion, but mostly it is two cocks jammed together and making her squeal.  And it’s damn hot.  One guy is French.  He has no problem licking her ass and pussy after the other guy has been up her---something I have never seen in straight porn.

The door behind me bangs open.
It’s the young man who left when I went down on the first guy.  He stands against the back wall.  He’s dressed in clothes that look straight from his office job though it’s now 10pm.  After another quick glance, I decide he is not quite as young as I first thought—end of his 30’s most likely.  He stands plastered against the back wall, doing his best not to look at my drooling erection as I stroke, but at the television.  His hands are fig leafed over the fly of his khakis.

I watch, stroke and make a guttural sound as massive cum shots go down the woman’s throat.  I look behind me again.  He’s stroking.  I thought I’d heard him.  Has he come back for the same treatment as the guy I did in the front row?  I look around.  I take a huge hit of Jungle Juice Platinum.
“You want that sucked?”

He says nothing, but he stops stroking, his hands drop to his side.
I stand up, then kneel in front of him.  I go down on him easily.  I groan as if it’s the best cock I’ve sucked all night.  The aural compliment makes him drool a little precum.  I can’t get all the way to the root of his only slightly better than average cock with his khakis and large belt buckle.  I undo them.  He lets them fall.  There’s no underwear in the way.  I take him to the root.  His hands are again at his side, the light glinting off of his wedding band.

My left hand snakes up and strokes his downy balls.  Then it creeps back along the perineum.  It touches his pucker.  His cock becomes rock hard in my mouth.  He bends his legs slightly—and my middle finger is lost in his hot, wet hole. 
I feel a visceral change in me from servicing this guy to wanting him to serve my needs.  I stand up.

“Suck my cock,” I hiss.
He’s on his knees instantly—giving me really great head.  I decide he had left earlier not because he was put off by us having sex, but because I’d invaded his territory.  I hold my hand on the back on his head.  He has me deep throated perfectly—no teeth, just all wetness and heat.  I let him off, but he holds it longer until he gags as he pulls off me.  I think for a second he’s going to actually retch on the floor, but he recovers, takes a deep breath, and swallows me again.  This time I hold him in place.  Longer than I normally would.  He comes up, gagging and thankful.  Long strands of spittle shine in the half light.

We repeat that move.
Several times.

A little longer in his gullet each time.
Now I want more.

“Get up.”
He rises.  I grab his hips and turn him around.  My finger finds his hole.  He groans.  I think he’s going to say “no,” but he just bends slightly.   I finger fuck him for a bit.  My cock brushes down his ass crack as I kneel and taste his hole.  I’ve made it wet.  I don’t think he can believe I’m rimming him in a public place.  I can hear his breathing go up with his nerves, but then he gives in and fully bends, holding onto the closed door for support.

I’m rimming him deep.  He’s hot and wet.  My fingers and his cocksucking have primed him for fucking.  I stand up.  My cock presses against his hole.  He stands up, pulling me out.
“Bend, fucker.”  I need his hole.

I kneel once more.  I am pushing vast amounts of saliva up his ass.  He doesn’t stroke himself.  I just listen to his quick intakes of breath.
I rise again.  “You know you want it.”  My cock presses against his hole.

“ARGH!”  He stands straight, twists away from me and shoots five blasts of cum out of his spasming cock onto the sticky floor.  I’m on my knees and take blasts six and seven in my mouth. 
He’s gone, without cleaning up at all.

I don’t see another soul all night.

Friday, October 12, 2012

On the Tracks--the new photo shoot Part 4

We'd shot on the tracks, pausing while a train went by.  Then moved under the over pass to the back side of a skate board playground.  When a grandfather showed up to do some repairs, we beat a retreat to the photographer's van....
We didn't waste any time.
He took me to the root, begging for my cum.
When he backed off, a gentle hand got him back in rhythm.
He was sure I'd get off in the privacy of the van, but there was so much more to come...

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

The Only Thing He Wants

Near Home—July, 2012

I’ve gone back a couple of months to one of the few times I could play this summer.  I’d escaped to the nearest Adult Bookstore.  I was sitting in the half light, watching the movie on the giant television behind the cracked plexi-glass.  It’s smeared with someone’s cum from months and months ago.  I have no idea now, whether I was watching a straight or gay vid—for once he walked in, I had eyes for nothing else.

He wants only thing from me. 
And I want to give it him.

I am sitting on the end seat of the back row on the aisle--the cocksucker’s chair. 

But that’s not what he wants.
I see him the moment he walks in and lounges against the wall, right beside me.  He hasn’t seen me yet.  I use the moment to really look at him:  35, 5’10-ish, chocolate colored skin, his hair cropped close to his head.  His A-shirt hugs his nicely defined chest.  Black jeans and running shoes.  The jeans may as well be sprayed on; his ass fills them so well.

When his eyes become accustomed to the darkness, I see him look at the half dozen men in the theatre.  Then he spots me.  He smiles—a dazzling smile.  He leans over and whispers in my ear.
“I was hoping you’d be here.  C’mon.”

We don’t go into the back corner behind everyone.  He leads me down to a nook right by the screen.  We are in front of all the men there, but they can’t see us with the glare of the television.  I wouldn’t care, but I know from previous meetings, he likes to be slightly discreet.  He pulls his pants and undershorts down in one movement.  His large cock flops out.  He leans near my ear and whispers his command.

“Eat my ass.”
It’s all he wants.  He must not get it from anyone else.  His cheeks are so full I have to pull them apart to get to his hole.  I pull—and my tongue hits home.  He’s turned, leaning against the wall, his ass thrust into my face.  He stifles a moan.  I lick around the hole.  He’s all but hairless there.  Soon he’s reaching back with one hand to help me spread himself wider.

My tongue is now going up his crack to his tail bone.  Then down to his perineum.  For a split second, I include his heavy, hairy balls.  Then it’s right back to where I’m supposed to be, spitting on and reaming out his ass.  
He is jerking his cock like mad.  (One time I pulled it out of his hand, and bent it back to suck it for a moment from behind.  He’s so big I could barely oval my mouth around the dripping head.  He wrenched it away from me, and I dutifully went back to his butt—poking his precum up his hole.)  Tonight I know better than to try. 

When his leg cramps up, we stop.  He turns around and pulls me to my feet. 
“You make me feel so good.”  He hefts my cock.  I’ve been stroking like crazy myself.  “Sometime I’m gonna let you fuck me.”  I look at him.  “But not here.”  I wonder if he means it—or if he just says it to be that carrot he thinks he needs to dangle in front of me.  Does he really not know how much I love to eat ass?  How can my joy in doing it not show? 

I turn him back to the wall.  “Give it to me,” I say.\
He bends and thrusts.  I sink to my knees and find his hole.  I’m using just one hand—pulling his left cheek out—so I can stroke my wet cock.  I’m deep in his hole.  My tongue stretches a little farther into him.  His fist flies over his cock.  He grunts and splatters his entire load on the cinder block wall.  He moans, audibly now, for the whole room to hear.
I am on the edge of shooting, but the moment passes.

He turns.  I’m still on my knees.  He allows me one lick to taste his jism on that huge black cock—then he crams it into his underwear.
“Later, man.”

I stand up—a little unsteadily.  I lean against the wall where he’s just been.  I savor the taste of his ass on my tongue and the smell of him on my beard.  I adjust my clothes and go back to my seat.  All eyes follow me—wondering exactly what we’ve done up there. 
I sit.  I stroke.  But I know I’ll find nothing better there tonight…

Monday, October 8, 2012

In the Basement

Detroit—September, 2012

I was in the Detroit area to see my Dad at his extended care facility—not that he’d remember I’d been there.  I was hoping to combine the parental visit with some sex with an infrequent regular.  As Dad and I sat at his second story window and counted the ducks on the pond for the fourth time since I’d arrived, I got a text from Sean.  He’d be home and ready by 6pm.  I got Dad down to the dining room for his early supper, sat in my car for a long minute and pulled out of the lot—knowing that the beef tips on Dad’s menu had already erased any chance he’d remember I’d been there…

 I’m in the gay enclave of Detroit in no time.  Sean has a beautiful older house.  I don’t see any of it this trip—for I go in the side door and straight to the basement.  There he is--all buff and beautiful--his gym built chest showing every hour he’s spent on it.  Sean is in his early 40’s and looks a little younger.  He has dark hair with a rugged, tan face and a rather aquiline nose.  He has on a dark blue jock which covers a nice bulge of meat.  A tat is just visible poking above the elastic of the waistband.  He gets up out of his sling, setting it swaying, with the chains in the rafters gently clinking.
We hug.  His strong arms hold me briefly.  I vent briefly about my family stuff as I strip down, before I get my boots back on.  I shake off my mood as he puts in the latest Treasure Island.  And hops back in the sling.

“Give me that hot tongue.” 
I don’t wait for more.  I kneel and spread his cheeks.  His ass is muscular, but slim.  And hairy.  I lose the last of my family concerns, with spitting and poking my tongue deeply into his pucker.  He grunts.  I hear him groping on the side table for the poppers.  The air goes acrid the moment he finds them and twists the cap.

“Fuck me.”
I rise.  My cock is perfectly aligned with his wet, slick hole.  I push.  I don’t go in easily.  He’s clamping down—playing at keeping me out.   Sean relaxes.  I glide in the first five inches. 

His eyes widen.  “It’s been too long,” he grunts.
I move in steadily.  My unruly pubes are smashed up against his ass cheeks in no time.

“Oh, yeah,” I sigh.  “Way too long.”
I move slowly. Taking barely any of it out of his ass.  He’s milking it so beautifully.  Finally, I pull out a little more.  And then, all but the head. 

I hold.
Then drive it home. 

Sean is moaning now—and jerking his cock.  I am fucking at a hard tempo—getting to it much faster than usual. 
This is a perfect buddy fuck.  No tricks, no toys, no piss, no fist.  Just pumping my thick cock as deep into him as I can.

I slow, stop the thrusts, and eat his hole.
“I just shot like half a load.”  I stand up, lean across him and lick up his cum.  I shove it into his hole, working it as deep as I can with my tongue.  This makes my cock throb and drip.  I rise and slip it home.  All the way in, this time.  He’s stroking and telling me to fuck him hard. 

I do.
I eat his ass again—tasting the cum I’ve churned into froth.

We fuck.
We take a quick piss break—in the bathroom.  No kink today.

 I bend him over in the sling, letting the webbing support his chest.  A tribal design is visible in the small of his back.  I like the view, but the angle of fucking is not as good.  He gets back in the sling.
I slip in and do a quick accelerando of balls slapping on ass.  I am banging him hard.  He shoots.  I slow.  “Keep going,” he barks.  I do.  In no time, he shoots a second load.  This time I truly stop. 

“Can you take some more?”  I ask.

“Are you close?”
“Sure,” I lie.

I kneel and taste what I’ve done to his ass—that half load of his cum has made his hole better than any dessert.  It gets me closer to shooting faster than I thought possible.  I get up and ram it in his hole.
“Give it to me.”

In three more thrusts I do—I give him my load.  My head snaps back.  I make some sort of sound I don’t recognize.  I gasp and collapse on his sticky chest.  His arms hold me in place.  But for not nearly long enough. 
We towel off and dress, nattering about nothing.

We hug. 
We sort of kiss.

We promise to do it again sooner rather than later.  Both knowing it will likely be later.
I sit in my car, wishing I were not driving 120 miles after shooting my load. 

I inhale.  Sean’s cum is still in my beard. 
A smile plays on my lips, as I look at myself in the rearview mirror.  I breathe deeply.  Inhaling his aroma.  And turn the key.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

On the Tracks--the new photo shoot Part 3

If you remember, I was fucking this guy next to the railroad track....

"Taste your ass, boy."


But then we heard people arrive, and found a new location.
We are now behind a ramp of a skateboard park.
"Suck it, man."
"That's it...."
More to come....

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

My First Anniversary...and My First Felch

It was a year ago today that I started From My Side of the Sling.  I can’t quite believe it’s been that long.  Or that I’ve written close to 200 entries over the year. 

I love interacting with my readers, either on here, on my email account or on the hookup site linked to the blog.  And so many---I had no idea how many people would be reading me each week.  Or how far flung from around the globe that readership would be.
I had great support getting started.  Thank you, again to Rob and Ace.

I have met great people—some who found out I wrote about them after the fact—and some who came to me so I could write up the fun we had in the playroom.
I know I have a lot more to say….I haven’t even begun to cover all the things I thought I might a year ago.  So I guess I’m not going anywhere yet…

So in honor of the Anniversary—A tale from the past:

My First Felch

Toronto—August, 2007

I’d read about felching.  It was touched on in the occasional skin magazine of the late 70’s and early 80’s.  But I really remember how awful Larry Kramer made it sound in his novel “Faggots.”  And the few holes I plowed back then were certainly not clean enough for me to put my face in them after a fuck.  In my part of the world, cleanouts were not in evidence—I’d actually stopped fucking because of it.  Condoms actually made me stick my dick back in a hole.  And surprise—everyone was cleaning out now.  I fucked my way through the rest of the 1980’s and up to 2008, condoms worn religiously.
I was visiting Toronto at the end of summer.  I was at the newest bathhouse—Spa Excess.  I had fucked a handsome Asian twink in my room, but he had gotten off fast—before I had even come close to cumming.  Now I was wandering the dark play area…
I enter at the far end of the play area.  I pass four video screens that make we squint in the blackness.  Then, just a few steps past them, it’s hard to see again. A man is in the one sling.  He’s large and has a dildo as big as his arm laying across his hairy stomach.  He tweaks his own nipples and looks hopefully toward me.  I smile and move on.  Past gloryholes.  Past a bench where you can sit and look through a window--and watch guys piss in the trough in the rest room.  Past more dark and twisting corridors.

Hands reach out and fondle my jock.  My cock is semi hard, mounding the fabric obscenely.  I push past them.  I want to make a tour of the entire area.  And then I’m there—a slurp ramp.  I am on the sucker level.  Cocks poke through various holes at just the right height.  I move around to find the stairs.  I go up.  I find an empty hole and stick my hardening dick through it.  It doesn’t take long before I have a hot mouth on it.  Then another.  And another.  I’m not trying to get off, and the suckers are sampling the wide variety of cocks and balls presented to them. 
When I tire of it, I make my way down the stairs.  A hairy young man is standing by the hole nearest the stairs.  He’s still facing me.  He hasn’t stuck his cock through a hole yet.  He’s hot—what I can see of him.  Gym built chest.  Hairy pecs.  Nicely built arms.  I pass him.  He turns and thrusts his cock through the hole. I get a glimpse of his round, hairy ass as I descend.  He’s right there to my right—his cock at my level.  It’s a little bigger than average, but not by much.  But it is thick with foreskin.  I reach up and touch it.  “Suck it,” he says.

He doesn’t have to ask me twice.  I swirl my tongue over the foreskin.  I work it inside the tightly closed opening.  I finally use my hand to pull it back.  He is dripping copious amounts of precum.  I lick and swallow.  And lick some more. 
He’s vocal.  He’s the loudest voice in a room full of hushed cock worship.  “Suck me off, man.”  I do my damndest. 

He pulls out of my mouth and pushes his balls through the larger than usual gloryhole.  I lick.  I pull each one into my mouth.  I am jerking a little myself now, especially when I glance up and see this handsome man above me.  He sighs. 
And turns.

He pushes his ass against the opening.  The wood flattens his full cheeks and provides easy access to his hole.  I lick around it.  Then shove in.  My tongue is in deep.  “Fuck,” he moans.  “Eat my hole.” I lick and swallow and push saliva into him.
“Fuck, yeah man.  Can you taste that load up there?”

It takes a second for me to let it register.  And he starts to push.  Before I can react the load is in my mouth.  Jesus!  My heart rate soars.  It’s so damn good…I swallow hungrily.  “Give me more,” I bark out.
He does.  He pushes the rest out.  It’s thick, creamy—a blissful mix of cum and his natural ass lube.  I’m hooked. 

Just as quickly he moves away from me.  I stand there, confused.  He’s down the stairs and pulls me into a kiss.  There is barely anything left in my mouth.  But he kisses me hungrily as if it was all there waiting for him.  The moment his tongue hits the back of my throat I shoot.  I’m wracked with the orgasm.  He has to hold me up.  I shoot hard and long over his dark pubes.  He leans me against the wall, kneels and cleans my cock.  I shake and tell him to stop—but he pays no attention. 
He rises, his mouth full of my cum. He leans in to kiss me…

UPDATE:  a good fuck bud and I are playing tomorrow about 1pm Eastern Standard time on