666

Near Home—August, 2013

The beginning of August found me back at the bookstore.  It happened to be the same night one of Satan’s minions was there…

 I am sitting in the straight theatre, but it’s all gay sex happening.  There are seven of us in the dark room.  I am sitting on the end of the couch.  The chairs are pushed against the side walls.  Moments ago, all of us were simply stroking, furtively eyeing each other.  Now all sorts of couplings have erupted.  To my right, two daddies were sitting on either side of a college guy.  The boy is now down on his knees, sucking the two older cocks, giving them equal time.  Two guys sit to my left, too.  They are now stroking each other.  Soon, one stands up, thrusting his cock into the other’s mouth.  I am rampant.  I jerk—staring mostly at the boy on the floor.  The daddy who is not currently in the boy’s mouth stands up.  He walks towards me.  He wears an olive drab A-shirt, covering his well-developed chest.  Hair tufts out the top of the fabric.  His cut-offs are splayed open so his heavy cock swings free.  He has army boots on his feet, just like me.  I can’t take my eyes off his left shoulder.  There, in Old English script, is a tattoo reading “666.”

“Suck this.”  He stands, feet apart and hands on hips, demanding service, right in front of me.  I lean forward and take him into my mouth.  He instantly begins pumping into my face.  His hands find my ears, holding me in place.  I think he’s going to shoot.  But, no.  He just likes to be as deep into me as possible.  He holds his cock in place, pulls out and fucks my mouth shallowly, then goes in until he mashes his pubes into my nose.

The thickness of his cock produces that thick, deep-throat spittle in the back of my throat.  As he pulls out of my mouth, it covers my goatee in long strands.  To the other guys, I’m sure it looks like he shot his load.  Mr. 666 pulls me up.  He kisses me hungrily, cleaning my mouth and beard.  My cock presses against his wet one.  He looks down.  That’s all it takes—he’s on his knees, greedily taking me to the hilt.  I notice his hands do that reflexive move of going behind his back.

Fuck being the sub—I am in charge.

“Suck my cock!”  I tell him.  “All the way to the balls.”  But he’s already there.  I can feel his beard stubble against my low hangers.  “Now the head.  Get your tongue in my fucking slit.”   My voice is low.  Insistent.  Commanding. 

His left hand grips his right wrist to keep his hands in place.  “Yes, Sir,” he mumbles, his words barely audible with my meat in his mouth.

It’s my turn to grab his head and fuck his face.  The college kid has stopped fellating the other Dad.  He sits on the floor watching me.  I pull away and sit back down on the couch, my pants around my ankles.  “Here, boy.”  I lift my ball sack slightly.  “Get your tongue between my balls and my cockring.”  He has to crawl to get there.  And he does, pulling himself across the dried cum on the floor from earlier in the day.  His face is buried now, right where I told him to go.  He does it—he gets his tongue wedged between the tight metal band and my furry balls.  I let him lap and suckle.  I lean back and push his head down.  His tongue goes right on down my perineum.  Is he hesitating about licking my asshole?  I don’t let him decide.  I just push him the rest of the way down.  His tongue connects.  I groan.  He moans.  He pushes deep.  “Eat me out,” I mutter.  He is grunting and spitting, making my hole as wet as possible. 

When I tire of his rim job, I pull him up.  He thinks I’m leaning forward to kiss him, but I spit in his mouth.  This makes him groan louder.  I push him to the floor.  “Lick my boots.”  He pulls the right foot towards him.  His tongue is doing it right, pressing hard to massage my foot through the leather.  I watch him clean the toes, the tongue, and how he lifts it to try for the heel.  “Do the other.”  He switches to my left.

The young college guy is watching, his eyes large.  He stands and steps out of his shorts.  His t-shirt gets thrown on a chair.  He comes toward me.  He turns and pulls a chair from the wall.  He bends, supporting himself on the chair.  His ass is right there.  I can’t quite reach it, but the request is obvious.  I turn to Mr. 666.  I try to pull my left foot out of his grasp.  In the moment it takes before I can get up, the Daddy the boy had been sucking stands and has his cock up the boy’s butt.  The boy grunts, but takes the raw cock willingly.  His hand jerks his own cock as the Daddy plows.  It only takes a few strokes until he shoots jet after jet of cum on the floor.  He pulls abruptly away from the Daddy, not letting him finish.

I stretch down and scoop up some of the boy’s cum.  I smear it on my boot.  “Clean it.”  Mr. 666 doesn’t hesitate at all.  He greedily cleans my boot of the viscid cum.  “Now the rest.”  There are three or four large patches of fresh cum from the college guy on the grungy floor.  He crawls away from me.  He licks up each puddle.   On the last one, he sits back on his haunches and shows me the cum on his tongue.  He makes a show of swallowing it.

I stand.  “Stay.”  I step to him.  “Open.”  He tries to take my cock in his mouth.  I push him back.  I shoot all over his face.  It’s in his eyebrow, up his nose, with most of it landing in his mouth and beard stubble.  I stand there.  “Now shoot.”  He jerks himself as he licks up the cum he can reach on his face.  He grunts.  And my left boot is covered again.  I let him recover for a second, then push his face into the cummy mess he’s made.  My left boot in on the back on his neck.

“Now clean it up…”

Satan’s minion grunts his agreement. 

His tongue leaves me spit shined.  And happy.