Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Tagging Ass in the Van

Near Home—May, 2013

The day after I had some hot ass in my playroom, I packed up the sling and went off to IML in Chicago.  I reported daily on the procession of men I, um, met there.  (Hit the IML tab in the topic cloud, if you missed it.)
I took a couple of days off when I returned.  By the middle of the week, I was ready for more.  An occasional fuck bud contacted me about sharing a young man.  It seemed a natural…

“Ok,” he types.  “Here’s the deal.  You’ll find my van in the parking lot.”  He names an all but deserted strip mall in the biggest city near me.  “Do you know it?”


“We’ll be fucking.  Just come in and join us.  He wants two daddies.”
I look at the boy’s profile.  He is young.  He claims 25, but looks younger.  He’s blond and smooth.  Nice looking, with a naturally fit body.  His ass is a bubble butt that makes my mouth water.

“A couple of things.”
“What?” I type.

“You can’t rim him.  Don’t lick my cock as I fuck him.  Don’t suck me when I pull out.  You can’t felch him when I’m done.”

“He doesn’t want any of that gay stuff.”
I almost bail at that remark, but I say ok.

Two hours later, having left the hook-up site on, the boy writes me a note.
“Ready to fuck me?  Do you wear a cockring?”

“Yes and yes.”
“Well you can’t wear one today.”

“I don’t like them.”

Once again, I wonder if I should bother, but I type “Ok.”
I pull into the parking lot at the appointed time.  There sits the white van.  I park three spaces away.  The boy’s car, the van and mine are just about all that’s in the lot.  We are at the far end, facing some scraggly trees.  Only one business is open in this struggling strip mall.  The rest of the shops have soaped windows and ‘For Rent’ signs on them. Maybe three other cars are in the lot, scattered outside the solitary store.

I swig on my bottle of water and walk over to the van.  I look in the curtained window.  There is just enough separation to see inside.  The back seat is almost against the back doors.  The middle bank of seats has been removed to give us floor room to fuck.  There is an empty lawn chair to one side for me.  My fuck-bud, with his model good looks, is sitting naked on the back seat.  The white body of the twenty-something is riding his stiff dick, facing him.  I am instantly boned by playing voyeur.  The boy is prettier than in his photos.  Eventually I try the door.  It’s locked.
“Reach through the window…”   It’s my fuck-bud.  I do, finding the inside handle and open the door.  I step in.  The boy turns and looks at me.  I think he approves.  He certainly is fascinated by what comes out of my 501’s. 

“Suck him.” 
The boy gets off my f-bud and gets on the floor.  He sucks just the head into his mouth.  He can’t seem to cover his teeth.  I finally have to stop him.

“Let him fuck you.”
“That’s big,” he whines.

I hoist him up so he’s on all fours on the floor, his face in my bud’s lap.  I enter him.  Easily.  He feels great.  A smooth, smooth hole.  When I hit bottom he yelps.  I fuck him, giving him only ¾ of my dick.  He is still whining.  I pull out. He gets back on my bud, this time facing me.  I stroke as he rides him.  The cock he’s on is smaller, but not by much.  When they break, I suggest he ride me, to make it easier.
“No,” he says.   I just look at him.  “We’re done.”  I look at my f-bud. 

“Try it,” he urges.
“No, he’s…too big.”  He turns to me with a look that is one of sheer malice.

“Suck him off then.”
It’s my turn.  “No.  He doesn’t deserve it.”

I am dressed in no time, never having removed anything but my shirt.
I am out the door and into my car. 

I have never heard from either again.


  1. Ugh. Really?!
    Sometimes being right isn't all that fun. Hate it when I think back and wished I trusted my instincts.

    1. You would think, wouldn't you, that by now I'd trust my gut? But a cute ass seems to trump common sense....

  2. Replies
    1. But I should have. Lesson learned about trusting instinct.