Wednesday, February 27, 2013

“Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Upstate New York—January, 2013

My time in New York was winding down.   Another business type came to a hotel near me.  We fucked for a bit.  It seemed to be going well, but he finally stopped me mid thrust, claiming I was just too big.  Ugh.
The bookstores continued to be my main release.  I found a couple of rather big dicked, leather-ish looking guys.  Both times we’d exchange mutual head.  We’d then talk about meeting up with their partner---as I inevitably got the line: “My boyfriend would love that up his ass.”  Phone numbers were exchanged.  Or screen-names traded.  But nothing ever came of any of them.

But I do have one last story to share from the bookstores of upstate New York…

 I switch off the radio.  I can’t take any more in depth analysis from NPR about the school shootings in Connecticut.   I swing my car into the parking lot behind the closest of the bookstores in my area.  There are quite a few cars in the lot.  A good sign, but they could be going to the bank or getting Chinese takeout as easily as looking for sex.  I park next to a huge SUV and step out into the slush of January.  I check my pockets:  lube, poppers, napkins, cockring and dollar bills.
It’s hot in the arcade.  I have left my hat and gloves in the car.  I unwind my scarf and stuff it in the inside pocket of my long winter coat.  Three booths have lights on above the closed doors.  I try the first.  Locked.  I can hear the sounds of a blow job in progress.  I try the second.  Locked.  No sound from this booth at all.  I continue around the corner.  The corner booth is lit.  The door is closed.  I try the knob.  It’s not locked.  I push it open.  A bear-ish man looks up.  He smiles and gestures for me to come in.  He has taken off his coat, and shoved it into the back of the bench.  His jeans are open.  A thick beer can of a dick is being jerked by a hand that does some sort of manual labor. His cowboy boots are leaving tiny pools of water on the tile.

I slip out of my coat and hang it on the door knob after I lock it.  I undo my belt.  I unzip.  My cock flops out.
“That’s a big one.”  The man reaches for it and slides his rough hand over the length of it.   But he makes no move to suck it.  Instead he spreads his legs, in invitation for me to go down on him.

I kneel.  I have to oval big.  And work at covering my teeth.  My tongue swirls over his helmet head.  And then works into his wider than usual piss slit.  It’s dripping.  I spend a long time on it, licking the pre-cum out and swallowing.  He grunts in appreciation.
Soon those rough hands are on either side of my head.  He holds me tight and begins controlling my cock sucking speed.  My cock jumps as he pushes me deeper.  He pulls me up the length of his dick.  Then back down.  My hands flail out.  I grab his denim clad hips for support

That’s when I feel it.  It has to be, it can’t be anything else.  He’s wearing a handgun.  Part of me wants to wiggle out of his grip and get the hell out of there.  The other side of me wants him to continue to just fucking use me. I don’t really have any choice anyway.  His hands never let up.  Down. Up. Down. 
Suddenly he holds me down.  I gasp for breath.  Shit.  I don’t want him to cum that deep.  I want to taste his load.  He holds me in place until I choke.  Only then does he let me up for air.  I gulp oxygen into my lungs.  He gives me a second, then it’s back down on his thick, ol’ cock.

When I come up this next time, I am leaking spittle from deep in my throat.  He seems to like that.  He lets me suck it all down before his cock plunges back into my mouth.  Not as deep now.  I am pretty sure he will shoot soon. 
His pace picks up.  And it’s there; his cum is all over my tongue.  I savor and swallow.

He bellows with each shot of his orgasm.  Loud enough they had to have heard him at the front counter.  My own cock belches out a load.   I hold on to him—one hand on hip, one hand on holster.
When he lets go, I pull away and begin the mop up process of my cock.

He grunts a “Thanks” and gets dressed without any wipe down.
We move past each other, letting me stay in the booth as he takes off.  His coat is covering the holster, so I never see his gun.

But I do notice that I have left a large cum load on his right cowboy boot.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Santa's Sex Party

Upstate New York—January, 2013

The day after the pump and dump, I pulled up the party list on that more vanilla hook up site.  It was my one evening off that week.  And last night had made me really hungry for more ass.  Only one group looked promising.  It was in the biggest city in the area, a drive, but not terribly far.  The way the party ad was worded I couldn’t tell if it was latexed or bare.  I was horny enough I didn’t care.  I knew I’d pack the Magnums.  I pulled up the host’s profile—a man slightly older than I, claiming a play area in his basement.  Within moments I got a message from the host saying he’d hoped I could come to his party.  We talked a bit.  He had lots of interests.  Yes, it would be bare.  He wanted my fist and he owned a ton of toys.  I decided to drive up.
Yahoo maps defeated me.  The site got me close, but without an all-important turn.  I was now over half an hour late and in a foul mood.  I had a phone number.  I called.  He gave me the name of the missing street and I found it without any trouble.  It was a typical suburban ranch style house.  I rang the bell.  Santa Claus opened the door.  He was nowhere as rotund as the famous Thomas Nast pictures, but with his snow white hair and beard—well, I couldn’t shake the image.  I followed him down to the playroom.  No one was there.  I was not happy.  I changed into my leathers.  I’d driven this far.  I decided I’d fist him and go home….

The doorbell rang.  And then again.  A small group did indeed begin to materialize.
First in was a bald, bear of a man.  He and the host knew each other.  He was, he announced, an eager bottom and wanted to to see if he could take someone of my size. 

Then a cute young man came down the stairs.  He was tall, thin, big dicked and not conventionally good looking, but extremely playful and loved older men.
A married bear arrived next.

Then a hot construction worker-type with a dick that was just a little smaller than mine.
The cast was assembled…

 We are all in a circle.  The host and the bald bear are on the floor, the rest of us standing around them getting head, playing with nipples and kissing. I’m doing all that plus I have two fingers up the ass of the married bear.  Soon it’s the cutie and I on the floor, sucking the rest of the room.
I rise.  I guide the bald bear away from the group and into the sling.  “Let’s get you opened up.”  He tells me to go slow.  I kneel and stick my tongue deep in his overly hairy hole.  He grunts in appreciation.  The rest of the men have congregated around the sling, watching and idly playing with the dick next to them.  I stand up, and slowly insert my lubed cock.  He’s tight.  Very.  I inch forward.  He huffs poppers and within seconds, I am swallowed by his ass.  I hold.  Then slowly start to fuck.  My slender hips smack his full ass with a sound that reverberates throughout the basement.  It turns the other guys on.  The construction guy is now down on his knees sucking the married bear. The cutie and the host have moved around to work the nipples of the bear in the sling.  I fuck a long time.  He eggs me on.  When I need a rest, the cutie moves around and inserts his long, thin and uncut cock into the well lubed, hot hole.  Santa takes my cock and cleans it murmuring he loves ass to mouth.  I let him have it all.

The bald bear finally signals he needs a break.  The married bear grabs my wrist and tells me to fuck him.  He leads me to the now vacant sling.  He hops in but seems unclear what the stirrups are for.  I get his legs situated, then rim, then rise.
“Oh, fuck.  You are gonna fuck me bareback.  Stick that raw cock up me.  Fuck me bareback, man.  But don’t cum in me.  I want that raw cock….”  He never stops spouting his little mantra.  I work up him.  He’s easier to get into.  For a moment his eyes register panic, then he relaxes into the moment and tells me how hot my raw cock is making him.  He can’t take me for long.  “Don’t blow in my ass,” he keeps reminding me.  I don’t tell him it would take an act of God to get me off this early in the proceedings.  Eventually he asks me to stop.  He gets out and takes his crimson cock to the construction guy, who obligingly deep throats it.  Married bear shoots instantly, making the construction guy shoot all over the linoleum.  Both dress and leave.

I fuck Santa.  The cutie fucks Santa.  I start to fist Santa.  (Now there are sentences I never thought I’d type.)  The young cutie and the bald bear are doing taking turns sucking each other.  As I start to insert my speculum into Santa, the doorbell sounds.  It’s a young man—dark, defined, Italianate, uncut.  And petrified that we are playing bareback.  He lets the young cutie suck him and the old guys get to lick his nipples.  I pry open his tightly clenched ass cheeks and run my tongue up and down his crack.
The host asks if he can rim me.  I get in the sling.  His beard actually feels great on my ass crack.  He loves digging into my ass with his tongue.  He spits and sputters.  I have to remind him of my “no fingers” rule.  He apologizes.  The cutie is working the cock of the dark young man as the bald bear lies on an exam table and jerks, as he watches the scene.  Young cutie is looking kind of bored at the lack of energy and enthusiasm his partner gives off.  When Santa needs to stand up and stretch, the cute young top asks if he can lick my hole.  I answer, by simply taking a hit of poppers.  Then the hottest moment of the night happens.  He is doing a perfectly good job on my ass crack, but Santa doesn’t think so.  He grabs his from behind, an arm around his neck and starts whispering into his into his ear how to do it.  He is forcing the face of the young man into my ass.  Deeper and deeper.  I can see he can’t breathe.  And we are both getting off on it.

“Eat his hole.  Work that tongue into him.  Come on.  Spit on his hole.”  He pulls him back so he can do just that.  I look down to see if he’s happy.  The look of unbridled lust on both their faces makes me jerk my cock even harder.  “Lick him good.”  Santa turns the young man’s head so he can taste me on his lips.  I take my hand off my cock, not trusting myself.  
Then the moment is over.

The bald bear claims he can’t get fucked again.
I eat the ass of cute young man as the Italianate guy watches.  It’s soft, smooth and quite wondrous. 

“I think I want to get fucked.”
I stand up.  I didn’t know he was versatile.

“But I really shouldn’t.”  I just look at him.  “I really want to know what your cock feels like, though.”  I slap my cockhead against his hole.  “I can’t get fucked bare.”  Ever the Boy Scout, I pull a Magnum out of the waistband of my chaps.  It’s rolled on and going into him before he can change his mind.  And he loves it.  He becomes very verbal, too, calling himself such a slut for bottoming for me.  He jerks so hard I am pretty sure he’ll cum.  But he doesn’t.  It does inspire the bald bear to get off all over the chest of the young man in the sling as I pound away.
When he signals he’s had enough, he jumps out of the sling and gives me a deep kiss.

The rest of the night is spent trying to get the Italianate young man to get off.  The cute guy is on the exam table, his head hanging over the edge.  The stud fucks into his mouth—bending slightly to get a better angle.  I kneel behind the stud and lick his ass crack.  He’s wedged between the two of us.  He shoots down the cute guy’s throat.  That causes the cute one to cum.  And that makes me shoot all over the ankles of the stud.
Not a bad Saturday night at all.

Friday, February 22, 2013

Short, but Sweet--the NY pump and dump

Upstate New York—January, 2013

It was short and sweet.  And not how I usually play.  And it was probably the hottest sex I had in New York.
It was 10pm.  I had signed on to one of the more vanilla hook up sites, hoping there might actually be someone who could host.  I’d even told myself I’d break out the condoms, if that’s what it took to get some ass. The menu bar flashed.  It was a guy, claiming late 30’s, with no pictures at all.  Of course.  “Safe Sex ONLY” was his headline. He was in a motel in town for the night.  He was looking to get fucked.  Then, before I could answer, he sent another message, telling me it was really a pump and dump and he wanted to take loads.  I suddenly didn’t care what he looked like.  I even knew where his motel was located.  I was out the door and headed to room 336.

 He’s living the fantasy of so many bottoms.  The door is ajar.  I leave the stark light of the hallway into his dimly lit room. His full ass is in the air.  He’s not sure who is coming through the door.  His arm is thrown across his eyes. I can’t tell much about him, and I don’t care.  It’s been at least 10 days since I’ve fucked a hole.  All my sex since the dirty piss guy has been all oral in the bookstore and I need to breed.
He hears me undo my belt and pull down my pants.  I don’t even take off my boots.  I squirt some lube on my cock.  And kneel to taste his hole.

He gasps.  Not what he was expecting.  My tongue goes deep into his hole.    There is no evidence that anyone else has been here yet.  He flowers open with no work at all.  I spit deep into his ass.  His hole is hairy, which only gets me harder.  I jerk as I eat.  You can hear my fist on my cock in the stillness of the room.  I stand and insert. 
“Holy crap.”  He huffs poppers.  “Fuck me with that thing, stud.” 

I do.  I am pumping really fast and hard.  His ass feels great.  Incredibly silky.  Then I smell it.  Cum.  He’s been seeded.  The big flared head of my dick is pulling it out.  I pull out and taste his hole.  It’s right there now.  I swallow some of the load.
“You taste the fours loads I have up there?”

It’s my turn to groan.  I make his ass incredibly slick with the cum and my spit.  Then I am back up him.  My cock feels bigger and thicker than usual.
“Split me open, man.  Dump your seed in my hole.”

I am actually close.  “Do you want to taste some of their loads on my cock?”  I ask.
He grunts agreement.   

I pull out and bring it around to the side of the bed.  He uncovers.  He has a handsome face.  And a body he has stopped working on quite some time ago.  He grunts and eats the cum off my cock greedily. 
“Now fuck me.  Open me up for this Black guy who’s coming.”

“Yeah.  Claims to have 12 inches.”  This makes me fuck him harder.  I want to be there to see a true monster cock in this great ass.  But I can’t do it.  I can’t last.  Me.  The guy who fucks for hours…this hole has brought me off in ten minutes.  I shoot.  I shoot like I haven’t shot since I got to town two weeks ago.  It feels like I go on and on and on.  His ass is milking me and he is grunting obscenities as I spasm into his hole.  I collapse on his back.  I stay there for a long moment.  Then slide down, my cock pulling out of his hole, leaving a trail of now five mixed cum loads.  My tongue attacks his sloppy crack.

We both hit the poppers and I make a meal of his ass.  He calls me every name in the book.  “You are such a twisted fucker.”  I leave just enough cum to act as lube for the mega cock to come. 
But I am suddenly tired.  I might actually sleep tonight.  I pull up my pants and go home. 


Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Bookstore Sub

Upstate New York—January, 2013

I walked into the closest bookstore to my temporary home and realized that I had no singles.  Nothing but fives in my wallet and there was no way I was going to use one of those in the arcade.  I walked to the other end of the store.  The incredibly hot (and incredibly straight) cashier was waiting on a customer.  He was ringing up condoms, lube, a gay movie rental and something I couldn’t see already in the plain bag—all for a good looking customer.  The customer was maybe eight inches shorter than me and a good eight years younger.  He had a shaved head and piercings in his ears.  His flannel shirt showed around the collar of his shiny blue winter coat.  He turned to me for a moment as I stepped up in line behind him. His smile was nice.  He glanced down for a second, scoping out my bulge.  I smiled.  Our eyes connected for a moment.  He paid for his purchases for what looked like date night with his boyfriend.  He headed to the back door as I got my change.

 I walk the circle of booths.  I push open a door.  Nothing.  Someone has gotten off with a lot of time left on his movie. I can see the puddle of semen on the floor.   I watch the screen for a moment as two leather guys are fucking.  Then I move down to the only other door which is ajar and showing an occupied light above the entrance.  It’s him.  The customer.  He didn’t go out the back door, but ducked in here.  To wait for me, it seems.  His pants are around his ankles.  His stubby, but thick, cock is in his fist.  He grins, nervously.  I smile.
“Lock the door,” he whispers.  “Show me that big bulge.”

I slide the lock shut and dump my coat on the floor.  I undo my belt and unzip. My cock is swelling at the thought of this man taking home my cum, either in his stomach or deep in his gut, to his boyfriend.  He kneels in front of me and takes it down his throat.  All the way.  No pause.  The perfect deepthroat.  The suction is perfect.  His throat muscles start to milk me.  And his hands go involuntarily behind his back, clasped in the position of submission.  It’s all the cue I need.
“Suck me, boy,” I whisper.  “Take it to the root again.”  I shove forward slightly.  His mouth ovals and he does as I ask.  He keeps it there for longer than I expect.  When he finally pulls back, long and glistening strips of spittle hang in an arc from my cockhead to his mouth.  I grab at them, and smear the slime on his face.  His breathing becomes rapid.  I think for a moment he might shoot.  I grab the base of my cock and slap his face with it.  His cheek.  The other.  His nose.  His open mouth as he sticks out his tongue.  He’s making noises in the back of his throat that only make me harder.

“Thank you, Sir.”
I push my cock back into his throat.  He ovals.  I grab his ears and begin a slow face fuck.  After a moment he signals a pause.  I do.  He grabs his bag of purchases and opens a new bottle of Rush.  Ah, the other purchase.  He huffs—and signals for me to really go at it.

I do.  And he’s great.  No teeth at all, even as I batter his mouth and throat.  Finally, I slow and pull out.  Another long string of throat snot connects us.  I gather it up.  He raises his face expectantly, but I reach down behind him.  I find his hole and insert the slippery mix up into his ass.
He’s whimpering.  For a moment I think he might cry.  “Sir, I want that.  Really.  But I can’t.”

I look into his eyes. 
A long moment.

I nod.
I bend low, right to his ear.  “But let me eat it.”

He scrambles around to lean against the bench.  His ass is furry.  The crack is a forest of wiry hair.  I pull his cheeks apart and begin exploring his pucker with my tongue.   He takes a hit of poppers and passes them back to me.  I huff some and then spend what seems like hours, chewing, spitting and tonguing his hole.  I only stop when my knees begin to hurt.
“I’d love your load, Sir.”  He swings around, crawling back on the floor in front of me.  I slowly jerk my cock.

“Lick my balls, boy.  Clean them with your tongue.” 
He does.  Slow and lovingly.  Working deep to include my perineum. 

Suddenly I’m there.  “Open,” I choke out.
I shoot a nice arc of cum.  It lands directly on his extended tongue.  The next shot hits his chin.  The next one is wasted on the floor.  He dives for my dick head so as not to miss another shot.  It’s all I can do to let him suckle the last few drops out of my overly sensitive cock.  But I do.  I can feel him swallowing every drop.

I pull out.  No need for the fast food napkin in my coat.  I’m not remotely sticky.  But he is.  I look down. 
The floor is covered with his cum. 

There was talk about my sharing his hole with his Sir.  But nothing ever came of it….



Sunday, February 17, 2013

Faking It

Just into Pennsylvania—January, 2013

He had a special request:  “Tie me down, stretch my asshole and fuck me as hard as you can.”  His pictures looked hot:  a good six feet tall with a broad chest and dark hair and those chiseled facial features of old Hollywood.  He works a small family farm.  He gave me no name, just an address.  I packed my wrist and ankle restraints with a couple of other toys and quickly crossed the state line into the hills of Pennsylvania. 

He is standing at the door waiting for me.  I walk up to the side entrance with my bag.  He is dressed in nothing but sweat pants.  He actually looks hotter than his pictures.  He holds the collar of a rather nasty looking Doberman who is growling at me through the storm door.  He pulls him back into his small kitchen and gestures me in.
“The bedroom is round the corner.  I’ll lock him in the den.”  I find the small, wood paneled bedroom.  The double bed takes up almost all the space.  I set my bag down on the low dresser.  He has tied rope to the four corners of the bed.  How thoughtful.  And nice to have a man who knows what he wants.  I am stripped to my jock, leather wristband and am putting my boots back on as he comes into the room.  I am sitting on the corner of the bed.  I spread my legs and point to the floor between my legs.  He kneels on the old shag carpet without a word.  He pulls back the pouch of my jock.  My cock springs out, hitting his chin.  “Shit.  You’re huge.”

“You saw my pics.” 
“I don’t know if I can take it.” 

“Shut up and suck it.”
He does.  But it’s not what he loves.  It’s all about his hole—I can tell from his half-hearted deepthroat technique.

I reach into my bag and pull out the wrist restraints.  I take his right hand off of my balls, and wrap the leather around his wrist.  The Velcro holds it in place as I tighten down the strap and buckle it shut.  His eyes shine as I reach for his left.   I repeat the process.
“Stand up.”  I slap the mattress next to me.  “Put your foot up here.” I add a restraint to each ankle.  “Now get your ass on the bed.”  He crawls up.  “Stay on all fours.”  He does and I kneel behind his full ass.  My tongue hits his hole.  He groans.  He tastes fresh from the shower.  I could eat his muscle butt all day. 

But he wants my cock.  “Just fuck me, Sir.” 
I stand.  My hard cock slaps his right butt cheek.  I push my drooling head down his entire ass crack, matting the hair there.  I bend over long enough to lick him clean and then begin working my head into his hole.

“Oh, fuck.”  He moans a continuous litany of profanity and pleadings to go slow.
I am in.  Far easier than his vocals suggest.  I hold my cock in place for a minute.  Then I pull it all the way out and fuck it all the way back in in one movement.  He grunts.  I continue to fuck, pulling my entire length out until just the head of my dick is left in him and then slam it home.  After a few minutes, he flattens out on the bed.  I pull out and yank his leg over to the rope.  I tie his left leg to the D ring on the restraint.  Then his right leg, then both his arms.  He’s is spread-eagled before me.  I fuck back into him.

“Fuck, you’re too big.”
“You wanted your hole stretched, right?”  No answer.  “Right??”

“Yes.”  I slam my cock into him.  “Yes, SIR.”
I continue grinding into him.  When I want to catch my breath, I pull out and reach into the bag.  I root around until I find the speculum.  The stainless steel is cold from the trip here.

“You want your hole stretched?”  I ask as I grease it up.  I let it rest for a moment on his butt cheek. 
“What is that?”  He can’t turn his head around enough to see it.

“You’ll be able to tell in a minute.”
I slip it into his fucked hole.  “Shit, that’s cold.”  I begin to slowly crank it open.  “That’s huge,” he groans.  A twist of the screw.  He moans again.  In a new way.  I think he really likes it.  Another slight twist to widen it another millimeter, and he is back to telling me it’s too big.  I don’t make it much wider; I run my finger over his exposed prostate.  He shudders.  “Please….”

I crank it shut slowly.  Remove it.  I lean over and spit into his stretched hole.  I get a knee on either side of his ass so I can fuck straight down into his hole.  I enter him.  And long dick him.
“Fuck, Sir.  I can’t take any more.”  It’s barely been 20 minutes. “Just cum and be done.”

No words turn me off faster.  Any steam I am building up evaporates.  He keeps up this new litany.  I make a quick decision. 
It’s my turn to grunt.  I thrust.  I groan.  I shudder.  I totally fake an orgasm.  I pull out. I am done with his attitude.  I hate playing with guys who tell me what they want, but when they get it, it’s all been in their head.   

I untie him. 
He sits on the bed as I dress.  “You’re the biggest cock I’ve ever taken.”

“Thanks,” I murmur and reach for my coat.  I get out the door while the Doberman howls in the next room. 
I head to the nearest bookstore.  I have a great orgasm down the throat of some man who I can’t picture now at all.



Thursday, February 14, 2013

Pissing in the Cold

Upstate New York—January, 2013

I was concerned that he was writing too much before I got to the area.  I was afraid that he’d turn into one of those men who is all talk before the trip, and then I’d never hear from him the moment I was within a hundred miles of him.  Paul told me he was a piss pig.  He told me all the things he wanted done to him.  I assured him that I was the man for the job.  We agreed that we would meet as soon as I knew my schedule. 
We met within the first few days I was in the area.  He lived a fair distance away.  I couldn’t host in my current digs.  But it happened that he had the solution.  Halfway between us was a house he was renovating.  We could piss all over the unfinished bathroom.  And we did.

 It’s cold.  He didn’t tell me there was no heat in the house.  And this is the day after a major cold snap which dumped several inches of snow on the area.  I’ve waded through drifts to bring in the sling and rimseat. The pipes for the frame are incredibly cold to the touch as they have been in my trunk for a week, ever since the New Year’s Eve party.  I gingerly assemble the frame.  He has turned on the clothes drier and re-routed the vented hose into the bathroom.  It’s warming nicely.
“Get in the tub,” I tell him.  “The cold is really making me need to piss.”

He strips to just his socks.  I look down on him, kneeling in the avocado colored tub which he assures me will eventually be ripped out.  Paul’s 40-ish.  He has a shaved head, good natural muscles from his renovation projects, and a hairy chest— that my piss spits out on.  He gasps at the heat of the liquid.  I cover all of his chest—it clings to the curly hair and slowly drips onto the porcelain.  I play the stream down onto his erect and pulsing cock. His fist wraps around it.  He jerks it furiously.  “Careful,” I tell him.  “We have all afternoon.”  He opens his mouth to speak.  I bring the stream up and splash some in his mouth, making him splutter.  “Swallow it,” I tell him.  He does, then leans forward to get the stream onto the top of his head and down his back.  I watch the pale, pale yellow liquid cascade down his back.  I lean forward to watch it disappear down his ass crack.  And I’m done.  I shake the last few drops onto him.
“Now lean into the sling.”

He gets out and does just what I tell him.  I’ve placed a towel on the cold leather, so it’s not too cold on his stomach as he leans into place.  His hairy ass is high in the air, matted with my piss.  I kneel down and begin licking his crack, wringing out the hair with my tongue.  He moans a “Yes, Sir.”  I jerk my cock as I eat, lick and swallow.  The cold makes me ready to piss again, even faster than usual.  I stand up and direct it at the top of his ass.  The hot stream hits him.  He jumps, rattling the chains.  The pale yellow stream collects for a moment on his ass, then runs down his crack to the unfinished floor.  I force myself to stop mid flow, kneel and lick it off of him.  Noisily.  The sound of my slurping fills the small room.  “Damn, that feels good, Sir.”  I poke my tongue deeply into his hole.  I am more than ready to fuck.
“Get in on you back.”

I help him get him properly situated with his feet in the stirrups.  My cock erupts.  I aim the piss at his cock and balls.  He jerks himself just as furiously as the stream splashes onto him.
“Easy there….”

My lubed cock pokes against his hole.  “Fuck me, Sir.”  I enter him easily.  He may not get much play, but his hole takes my full size in one steady thrust.  He grunts.  “That’s what I need.”
I work up to a hard fuck.  Then slow it.  Then bend my knees, so the angle pushing into him is totally different.  I pull out.  I walk around to the side of the sling.  He leans over, knowing I want him to taste his hole.  He grunts again.

I taste his hole when he’s done, then push in again.  We fuck.
Then it goes bad.  Dirty.  Really dirty.   He has nothing to help him do another rinse here at this house.  He finds a soda bottle.  I spend ten chilly minutes on the stairs to the upper story, giving him some privacy. 

When I come back in, he tells me he wants to eat my ass.  He gets under the rim seat.  I grab my poppers, and settle down on the cold seat.  His enthusiasm makes up for the roughness with which he eats my hole.  I’ve taken a hit and I begin jerking and talking dirty.
“Eat my hole, you cocksucker.  Stick your tongue in there.  That’s right.  Eat it, dammit.  Lick my ass out, man…”  I know I sound like bad porn, but I can’t stop myself until the high wears off.  Paul is jerking like crazy.  He’s totally into servicing my ass with his tongue.  I stop him by standing up, just before he cums.

“Get back in the sling.”
I enter him.  He jerks frantically.  He’s headed for the end.  I pull out.  He’s not clean.  I plunge back in anyway.  He shoots, matting his damp chest hair.

“Where do you want my load?”
“On my balls.”  I pull out just in time to shoot.

We tried to play again during my stay in New York.  We met, maybe 8 days later.  This time it became obvious he hadn’t tried to clean out at all.  When he saw my face, he simply continued to jerk, still in my sling, while I went to the sink to wash up.  He didn’t bother to ask if he could get me off another way.  Needless to say, I didn’t try a third meeting.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Bookstores in New York

Various Bookstores in Upstate New York—January, 2013

 My job took me unexpectedly to a new part of the country for January.  I had 4 weeks of work in upstate New York.  I always like to be new meat in an area so I was looking forward to some great sex.  Even better, my work schedule gave me plenty of free time.
I drove home from Chicago on New Year’s Day, dropped Brad off, re-packed the car and drove until I could no longer see the road thanks to the lake effect snow.  I crawled into Jamestown as soon as I crossed the state line into New York, huddled down for the night, and continued a slow, slippery trek east in the morning.  When I finally arrived, I checked into the housing provided by the company and learned that I would have a house mate, a fellow employee.  The walls there were paper thin and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be tricking at the house—I really didn’t need him to hear me growling “Take my piss, boy” and then work with me the next day.

I didn’t need to worry, it seems.  There were very few people online in the area.  Ever.  Almost all who were online were men cheating on their wives/boyfriends and looking for five minutes of sex.  I rarely do that kind of play. Even if they wanted a little more, the cheaters couldn’t host.  I found a few men of my ilk—and they were almost universally 90 or so miles away (or 140 in NYC). 
There were however three bookstores within thirty miles or so of me.  They were all owned by the same chain.  The management was great.  They left patrons alone.  They didn’t care how many people were in a booth, even if you got too busy to keep feeding the video.  All three were equipped with “buddy windows” so you could see guys on either side of you—if you chose.  You threw a toggle switch to the right or left and a window shade behind a grimy glass wall went up.  The person on the other side would have to raise his, too.  They were an excellent calling card—I just had to wave my cock in the window and unlock my door if I wanted service.

Here are some of my favorite moments from the bookstores of the weeks I was in town that were not about me getting my cock sucked—since no one I met was really great at it.

 I am walking around the square of arcade booths.  Three or four are lit: occupied.  All have their doors cracked.  My balls are heavy.  They need to be drained.  The first door holds nothing of interest to me.  The guy in the next booth shakes his head as I knead my hardening cock through the fabric of my pants.  I go around the corner.  I poke my head into the corner booth.  The man is totally stripped naked.  He is maybe 40 or 45.  Shaved head, muscular chest and a long, thick cock with a generous foreskin.  He is skinning it back as he watches straight porn.  His hot body is covered in tattoos:  Sleeves on both arms.  A heart ripped open with a dagger on his chest.  A Celtic design twists around his collar bone.
He glances at me.  And jerks his head for me to come in.  He spreads his legs.  “Suck it.”

It’s not what I thought I wanted, but now I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.
I work it into my mouth.  Just.  It’s really hard not to scrape him with my teeth, he’s so thick.  But I must be doing something he likes—he sighs, puts his hand on the back of my head and pushes me farther down his thick cock.

I suck for a long time.  He is grunting and precuming.  Finally I work a finger up his ass.  It’s like magic.  He shoots a huge load in my mouth. 
He gets dressed and lets me have the booth as he’s cranked a lot of money into it. I am sitting there, slightly dazed.  A young black man walks in.  He looks at me, whips out his cock and points to the floor in front of him.  I take him easily, after the monster I’ve just had.  And he gives me his cum in no time.

I never get off that day.

I rarely fuck in a bookstore.  In my experience, guys don’t often come ‘prepped’ for that type of play. 

I am sitting in a booth, idly kneading myself through my pants.  I hear the shade roll up on my right side, so I raise mine as well.  Instead of the usual face peering through the smudged glass, a hairy ass is smashed against the window.  He reaches back and pulls his cheeks apart.  His pink hole winks at me.  And my cock responds.  He pulls away from the window and looks at what I have to offer. I unzip and show him my hardening cock.  He grins and disappears from the window to unlock his door.  I cram my cock back in my pants and go next door.

 He’s younger than me, decently put together, and stripped below the waist except for very white running shoes.  A wedding band glints on his left hand.  As soon as I’m in the door, he puts a foot up on the bench and presents his ass to me.  I kneel, unbuckling my pants.  My tongue finds his hole.  He’s lubed, but not annoyingly.  I eat.  He sighs, low and long.  I’m guessing most guys don’t eat his hole out.  I get my cock free of clothing, spit on it, and pray this guy has thought ahead.  I stand and insert.  He grunts a “Jesus,” then a contented sigh and a “Fuck me hard” under his breath.

 I do.  It’s been awhile since I’ve had ass.  I fuck.  I make noise as my hips slap his ass.  I pull out.  He’s prepared, thank God.  I slap his hole with my cock, and push back in.  I really am enjoying a nice fuck.  He’s tight and silky.

 “Are you about done back there,” he suddenly asks.  “I need to meet the wife.”  I will myself to cum.  But it’s gone.  I give him two last thrusts, the last pushing him hard enough that he has to grab the wall.  I zip up and take off.

Today I want to suck cock.  I look.  Of course, the only man there is my semi regular cocksucker who immediately wants me to whip it out.  Not today, pal, sorry.

I lounge against the wall, intently studying the cases of the 60 movies they have playing in the arcade.  I hear the sound of boots coming down the corridor.  I glimpse the man—a great blue collar fantasy.  He wears work boots that have been in some sort of automotive shop.  A coverall, oily and greasy, is over a flannel shirt and denims.  He ducks into a booth at the far end of the corridor and closes the door.  The lock rattles noisily.  I watch a moment.  The cock sucker rounds the corner and tries the door.  It’s not locked.  The guy had just rattled it, so as not to be so obvious.  I sigh.  I would love to have done this guy.  The cocksucker emerges, his services obviously not needed.  The light comes on, showing Mr. Mechanic is watching porn.  I wait a moment.  I give him time to start jerking.  I amble down the corridor, my boots just as loud in the stillness.  The door is still ajar.  I push it open and look in.  He is standing, jerking to a young girl taking a big dick up her ass.  He glances at me, then focuses back on the screen.  But he doesn’t ask me to leave.
“Need help with that?” 

He sizes me up.  “Lock the door.”
I do.  Then kneel in front of him.  The aroma is amazing:  his throbbing cock smells musky and sweet at the same time.  And the smell of oil and gasoline rising from his boots makes my cock throb.  I pull it out and begin jerking as I take him in my mouth. 

His cock is drooling the moment it hits my tongue.  This isn’t going to take long. I swirl my tongue over his cock head.  He grunts.  He fucks into my mouth a little.  His eyes are still on the girl—not allowing himself to look at who is actually doing him.  I take his six inches to the hilt easily.  And again.  He pulls it out of my mouth.  I know he’s going to blow.
I grab it right at the base, mutter a “No” and get it back into my mouth just as he explodes.  He shakes.  I won’t let go of his cock.  I clean it so well he needs no tissue before he puts it away.  He’s all sheepish now, and mumbles something about getting back to work.

I watch him leave, leaning against the wall.  His gasoline scent lingers a long time.  I slowly jack my cock as I inhale deeply, still tasting his jizz at the back of my throat.