Saturday, July 13, 2013

A Mystery Fuck...and a Small Group

The rest of my April sexual adventures have been detailed in the posts I wrote daily from CLAW.  I know I took quite a few days off after I returned home in order to rest my weary dick.  So it was the top of May before I played again.

With some time to write today, I opened the file where I keep a list of my encounters (in the order they happened) and other ideas for blog posts.  The first entry for May was “Visitor from Texas.”

Well, it had to happen.
I have nothing.  I quickly searched through the hook up sites to see if I could find correspondence.  It had all been auto erased, it’s been so long.  There were no stray photos in any email account either.

Often I make notes, but there is nothing else for this entry.  I can picture all the other names that are still in limbo on that list.  I can conjure up no mental image at all for Texas.  Did we just fuck?  There are no notes about covering him in piss or working my hand up him, or that he brought a bag of toys.  I am pretty sure that it was good encounter, for I always make notes if things go wrong.
I hope he’s not a reader of this blog—(though that would likely have been a note I’d have made.)  I really hate the time lag I currently have from fucking to writing about it—especially as I had a very busy spring with the two leather conventions and many more people than usual interested in making the trip to the playroom.   I hope that I will be all but up to date by the end of summer.  I haven’t been able to write a lot, but I have barely been able to play at all, so the list grows shorter…
A rule I try to live by is that playtime has to equal the round trip drive I make to an encounter.  I try to make that true for the men who travel to me as well.  I have always preferred a longer session than a 10 minute quickie.  Quickies can be great, but not if I’m in the car for two hours to get there.
My next May encounter had me driving farther than usual.  A top/vers who I had played with years ago in one of Michigan’s larger cities wrote me on BBRT.  He and his partner had invited a young leather bottom to fuck all afternoon and evening.  Would I like to join them?  Well, I liked Dennis.  I had never met his partner or the bottom, but it sounded like it would be well worth the trip—with plenty of potential for extended play.  They had a sling and a playspace.  I, for a change, could leave my equipment at home.
I found the house easily.  Dennis showed me in, taking my bag of lubes and restraints.  It was a house in flux—the partners were doing all the work on this fixer upper.  I sat down in the living room, one of the few rooms on the main floor which was finished.  Dennis is a tall, patrician man with a year round tan and a big dick.  We are contemporaries in age and body type.  His partner, Max, is Latin and several heads shorter than the two of us.  I guessed his age as a few years younger.  He couldn’t take his eyes off the bulge in my 501’s.
We chatted awhile.  The bottom was nowhere in sight.  Eventually he emerged from a back bedroom. Bill was a cute otter, short and with a decidedly sub streak.  He was 30-ish; maybe just 40.  He curled up on the sofa next to me and began playing with my bulge as we continued the talk about Dennis and Max’s renovation.  Soon Bill was on the floor.  He unlaced my combat boots.  He pulled them off, shoving his face deep into each boot, inhaling deeply.  Then my thick wool socks were peeled off.  I hoped he’d go for my toes, but instead Max asked me to stand up.  While we talked of the dry rot in the dining room, Max and Bill knelt and slowly undid my button fly and my belt. I stepped out of my jeans.  Bill began tonguing my jockstrapped bulge.  Max moved around, pulled my cheeks apart and stuck his tongue as far up my hole as he could.  Bill simply smiled, played idly with his cock that was hidden under crimson running shorts.  Eventually he stopped the boys and told them to take me downstairs…
The space has two single beds and a sling hanging from the rafters off to the side.  I have put Bill in the wrist restraints and fastened them behind him, right at the small of his back.  His mouth is ovaled and he is taking me deep.  I pull out long strands of thick saliva. 
Dennis is sitting in chair next to us. “Fuck his throat.  Make him take it all.” 
I buck into his mouth, then hold it until he almost chokes.  I pull out and spit in his open mouth.  He grunts a sound of surprise and approval.  We repeat the action.  Then I pull him up and have him kneel on the edge of the bed.  I push him forward.  He has no arms available to catch himself.  His head goes into a nest of pillows.  I kneel and stick my face into his hairy crack.  He moans into the pillows, then tells me to do anything I want to him.
I spend a long time eating his hole out.  I ask Dennis if he wants a turn, but he tells me he just wants to watch me work him over.  He flogs his still flaccid cock.  There is no sign of Max.  I rise up and insert.  My cock glides into him fast.  I grind my pubes into his spread hole.  Bill feels terrific.  He knows how to squeeze my cock.  I hold for a bit, then begin a slow pounding into him.  He moans, muffled by all the pillows. 
I pull out, wanting him to taste his ass on my cock.  But I can’t.  I am dirty.  Really dirty.  I undo him, and tell him to go clean up.  I make for the bathroom on this level and wash and wash and wash.
Max eventually comes downstairs and gives me some head.  He is uncomfortable with me rimming him—and even more uncomfortable when I try to fuck him.  He says he wants it— but his body is telling me “no.”
Max asks to rim me.  He is really good.  His tongue is all over my ass.  I am back to having a good time.
Bill arrives.  Soon I go back up him.  He asks me to pull out almost instantly.  He races upstairs. 
Max and I play for a bit more. 
Bill tries again—this time in the sling.  I get up him and he asks instantly for a break.  Dennis is upstairs now, never having managed an erection.  Max goes up to join them. 
The writing on the wall is now in focus:  the upstairs bedroom holds more interest than sex. Whatever drug it is makes no difference—it is changing the potential of great play into three minute bursts of sexual energy and incredible lengths of time with me on my own, left watching bad porn.   I should have known sooner….
I stick it out for a bit longer, then make an excuse and leave—my playtime severely shortened.  Bill and Dennis never even know I take off.


  1. I agree with you about the drive needing to be worth the play. Gas is expensive, and my time is limited. I don't take risks on less than 20 minutes of playtime... and avoid situations where there are time constraints. As for the scene... what a waste of your time and talent. That's why I refuse to play with people to ParTy. 420? Cool. Poppers? Way cool. Everything else - uh,uh. Makes for bad sex, and in a lot of cases... dirty bottoms who aren't paying attention to what is important. If a dick and talent like yours showed up on my door step, I would be so honored and want to make the most of the opportunity, I would pay attention to nothing else. Hope all is well. I had a hard on at the beginning of the story - it held such potential. Needless to say... it dwindled as things fell apart. Their loss! - Uptonking from Wonderland Burlesque.

    1. If you were hard at the top and "dwindled"-- then I captured my time there. It was a huge disappointment. I guess when I heard "play all afternoon and evening" I should have guessed it would be drug fueled, But drugs had never reared their ugly head in the play I'd had with and around Dennis in the past.

    2. Sloppy drunks also are bad. Had one that needed the alcohol to get over religious guilt and another to break his inhibitions about going raw (which was weird because I was fine with going wrapped and the sex was so much better with him... well... lucid).

    3. I totally agree about alcohol.

      And lucid--yes, please!

  2. Funny... I have a draft open about my little file... There was one where I just stared at the entry for awhile before I had to dig through emails and apps to finally remember. I still don't publish the stories chronologically though. Just whatever I feel like writing up or gets triggered in my head by the stuff you other bloggers write. Which is probably why someone questioned whether the stories were true. Wish I was that creative, but I'm really too lazy to make things up!

    1. I didn't start to write in chronological order either, it just sort of happened. It seems to work for me--since I have a low threshold of boredom, I won't do two FF scenes, say, back to back--so I don't write about them back to back. And sometimes stories build on each other--I'm glad my adventures with Clark, the ex-military guy, got published in order--they helped define the who we were to each other.

      AndI couldn't make up my sex life either--why bother????