Monday, February 23, 2015

Cumming Twice

Near Home—January, 2015

The three of us had to head home on New Year’s Day due to Ryan’s work schedule.  Marco stayed at my house until the end of the week.  We had two more fisting sessions before he left.  I thought it was interesting that these two always hungry pigs did not play that first night when we got back to my house.  We were still so sated from the party the night before.  The two times we did play were almost carbon copies of our session before we took off to Chicago, though I did not go quite as deep into his muscled hole.

Marco took off on Saturday morning.  I was ready for the bookstore that evening.  It turned out to be a very active Saturday night…

I am watching a mediocre movie on the gay side of the cinema.  The movie may not be keeping my attention, but the thirty-something cub who is sitting across from me certainly is.  He has his jeans open and is kneading his cock under his underwear.  He’s slightly stocky, with dark blond hair and a gingery beard.  He keeps looking at my cock.  I am showing it off.  I stroke slowly, occasionally taking my hand away and reaching for my water bottle on the floor.  But the cub makes no move to indicate he wants to do more than look at it.

The door opens.

A tall lanky guy in his 40’s enters.  He crosses directly to the Cub and sits in the chair on his right.  Instantly, the Cub is on his knees in front of the new arrival.  Dammit.  I’ve just lost.  I watch the Cub open the man’s pants and pull out an above average cock.  It disappears down the throat of the Cub.  I look at the screen.  And stroke.

“You want to fuck my boyfriend?”  It’s the lanky guy talking.  “He says you’re hung.”

I shrug and show him my cock. 

Lanky Guy stands and pulls the Cub to his feet.  “Get those jeans off and bend over.”  The Cub shucks off his pants and his underwear.  He stands in his stocking feet, his sweatshirt stopping just above the swell of his naked ass.  “Bend over for the man.”  Again the Cub complies.  He braces himself on the chair, his ass jutting towards me.  Lanky Guy waves me over and moves around to keep feeding the Cub his cock.

I kneel behind the Cub.  His ass is hairy and the crack a tangled forest.  I lick the length of his cleft before I zero in on his hole.  I leave his wet and ready.

“Just fuck him.”  Lanky guy sounds bored that I would want to revel in the rimming I am giving his boyfriend—and that the Cub is obviously enjoying.

I stand up and slap my cock against the furry ass—making sure Lanky Guy sees the length of it—and that I am going into his boyfriend raw.  I push into the wet hole.  The Cub grunts around the cock in his mouth.

“Take it,” says Lanky Guy.

I start a hard pounding, hard enough to push the Cub down on Lanky Guy’s cock.

“You like that, Boy?”  Lanky Guy rubs the bobbing head of the Cub.  “Daddy is being good to you, right?”  The Cub grunts his agreement.  Lanky Guy reaches across his boy’s back and swats his hairy ass.  Hard.  It makes the Cub constrict his ass.

And it makes me shoot. 

I can’t believe it—I’ve only been fucking for mere moments.  It’s not a gut wrenching orgasm, but I empty a lot of cum deep inside him. 

Lanky Guy looks pleased.  “I’ll be using that when we get home.  Thanks.”

They do themselves up and leave to go fuck in my load in the comfort of their home.


I decide to stay.  I have rarely gotten off so fast, I mean in the first 10 minutes of being there?  I’m the guy that does four hours at the CLAW play parties.   I go to the straight side when there are no new arrivals.  It’s a nastier movie playing here and my cock surprises me; it hardens right back up.

I stroke for a bit.  All alone.  I hear sounds through the vent in the wall that separates the two cinemas.   I wait a moment then go over to investigate.  Two men are there.  I can’t see much about the one sitting quite close to the television screen—just a man wearing a knit cap.  Sitting in one of the two chairs against the back wall there is a broad chested blond.     He could be anywhere from 35 to 45.  He is sitting rather primly, hands folded in his lap.  He tries to stare at the screen.  But he can’t take his eyes off me.  I can see that flash of desire—that he now tries to cover by looking down at his well-manicured hands.

I can sit in the seat I was in before.  Or I can sit right next to him.  I choose the back wall…

I hear his intake of breath as I sit down.  Another as I unbutton my pants.  And one more as I pull my hard cock out. 

I look over at him.  Our eyes meet.  We hold it for longer than is comfortable for him. 

I break our gaze and look at the screen.  And jerk.

I look again.  He swiftly turns to look at the screen, but I know he was looking at my dick.
I ignore him.

Then I do it again.  A quick look and I catch him kneading his crotch as he looks at mine.  He looks away but he knows he’s busted.


I reach over and grab his left wrist.  He turns back to me, looking as if I have applied an electric current to his arm.  I pull it to my crotch.  I make him cup my balls.  He pulls it back into his own lap.  I reach again.  His sweaty palm cradles my nuts.  He swallows hard.  I grab the lube bottle out of my shirt pocket and drip two drops onto my cock head.

“Now jerk it.”

I watch the inner turmoil on his rather handsome face. 


Then:  a whispered “Yes, Sir.”

I have to instruct him to slow down.  To include the head of my cock in the stroke.  To not hold me in a death grip.  But he takes direction well.

“Use that precum.”

His fingers obediently swipe over my piss slit and add it to the slick shaft.  It’s beginning to feel better.  But I want to play.

I stand up.  I look at the mix of terror and wonder in his eyes.  I bring my hard shaft towards his face.  I slap him across the cheek with it.  He gasps.  My cock leaves a slug like trail of precum on his five o’clock shadow.  And again.

“Now open your mouth.”

“I don’t…” but he gets no farther.  I push just the head into his mouth.   His tongue instinctively lashes up to lick it.  I pull it out.  “No…please…”

“You don’t want this dick?”  My voice is a low whisper.  “You wanted it the moment I walked in the door.”

“Please, don’t make me suck your cock.  Please.”

I stick it in again—looking for true resistance.  There is none.  His tongue is betraying his words.  He has sucked dick before—I’ll swear it.

I pull it out again and smear his face with the mixture of saliva and pre-cum.  If I needed proof, I can see the tent in his dress pants.  I now turn it into a true skull fuck.  I hold his ears and pump about half my length into him.  I pull out.

“Please stop...”  He is almost whimpering.  And he knows it’s egging me on.  A wet spot forms on his tented pants.

“I am going to cum all over your face,” I tell him.


I face fuck him again.

“Where do you want my load?”   My voice is still low, but commanding.

He cringes for a moment.

“Where?” I ask again.

“Blow in my mouth.”

I slap his face with my cock one last time and will myself to cum.  And I blow—at least three sizable blasts and then a dripping faucet that won’t turn off. 

I lean in and whisper in his ear.  “Good boy.”  He nods.  There is a trail of cum, from when I pulled out, trickling down his chin.  “Don’t let me see you spit that out.”  He shakes his head.  He opens his mouth wide to show me that he has swallowed it all.  I swipe my fingers across his chin, mopping up the cum.  He knows just what to do.  He suckles them clean.

The spot on his pants is now huge.  I’m pretty sure he blew his own load when I blew mine. 

I tuck myself into my jock.

He looks up at me.

Guilt and pleasure—all over his face.  It’s his turn to whisper—so soft I can hardly hear it.

“Thank you.”

Thursday, February 19, 2015

Welcoming in 2015--the New Year's Eve Orgy

Chicago—December, 2014 & January, 2015

After we cleaned up after our morning fist session, Marco and I were packed and on our way (slightly ahead of schedule) to South Bend to pick up Ryan.  These two had never met, but seemed to hit it off quite well.  In the car, Ryan and I commented on how much less snow there was than last year, when we hosted the group at a Chicago motel.  I was relieved that the party was back where it started— in Rob and Brice’s basement playroom.

We went in and were greeted with hugs as the dogs yapped at us.  A quick unload of the car.  Bryce took us downstairs to set up the fuck bench.  Their sling was up.  The big screen television was ready for bareback porn.  A double bed was in front it, approachable from all four sides.  I set up the fuck bench so the users could watch the action in the sling.

“Didn’t you say you’d bought a rimseat?” I asked.

And there, in the door, was Rod bringing it in.  “You know we bought this for you.”  We decided to put in in the middle of the room with a large leather throw under it.

After a cup of tea, I napped in the king sized bed (which I’d eventually share with Marco) as the men cleaned up and cleaned out.  Ryan had the room I used to have upstairs, near the master bedroom.
Rod and Bryce put the guest list together.  It consisted of men they had played with before.  It turned out to be a slightly smaller group—but the quality level was high.  At the appointed hour we all troop downstairs.  I was in my yellow jock, chaps, harness and boots.  Ryan was in his assless briefs.  The other three were all in variations of jocks and boots.

Rod is just younger than me with a thick head of prematurely grey hair.  He has a big dick which he uses just as much as his talented ass.  Bryce is slightly younger, dark, hairy and a former leather title holder.  His ass can milk cock with the best of them.  He has a weakness for size up his hole.  It’s been a while since I tried to describe Marco.  An otter in the gay lexicon— he is short, hairy all over with a forest of thick black hair on the cheeks and crack of his ass.  He is one of the most talented fisting bottoms I know.  And I would guess the youngest man there having just turned 40.  You’ve seen enough pictures of Ryan and your author.

We were horned.  We did not wait for the guests to arrive.

Brice has been admiring the fuck bench.  I direct him to get right on it.  Marco sucks Ryan on the bed as I start rimming Brice.  I am not sure, but I think I taste cum.  I stand up and shove my cock into him.  Brice groans out a hot “Fuck me.” 

I do.  My balls slap at his ass.  Rod walks around and feeds Brice his cock.  I fuck hard enough, that I am shoving Brice down on his partner’s hard dick.  I pull out.  A pearl of cum oozes out of Brice’s hole.

“It’s mine,” says Marco.  “I loaded him while you napped.  I know you love to fuck in cum.”  I grin.  “And I have Brice’s load up me.” 

Fuck, yes! 

I pull Ryan up and stick his face into Brice’s cummy hole.  He felchs a little and fucks him.  I get Marco into the sling.  I want to taste Brice’s load.  Rod goes to answer the door.

Rod brings back a man who looks like he could do porn.  I would guess he’s in his mid-30’s.  He reveals a stunning body as he rips off his clothes.  The spot light on the sling spills onto him and shines on his black skin.  His long dreadlocks swing wildly as the -shirt comes off over his head.  Then the white jockeys come down.  He’s hard.  I remember that thick fucker from previous years.   Brice gets right back on the fuck bench.  Dreadlocks tells him he is going to fuck him.  I’d forgotten his sexy, thick African accent.  I watch him sink his dick into the Brice’s hole—the hole that has already had three cocks up it.  I push mine into Marco’s loaded ass.


Scott arrives.  He’s a mid-40’s blond.  His assless briefs show off a mound of ass flesh that makes my mouth water.  Ryan is pulled to him like a magnet.  A much as I’d like to get into the new ass, I want to taste Brice’s ass now that four cocks and one load have been in it.  I lead him to the rimseat.  I get under it.  Brice sits carefully.  My tongue snakes out.  Jackpot.  It’s incredibly wet—so different from those first moments of eating him out.  Brice moans.  He’s been known to shoot as I felch loads from his ass.  I don’t think he will tonight—having shot that preliminary load up Marco for our fucking pleasure.

I pull my tongue out.  A mini river of Marco’s cum slides out of him and into my waiting mouth.  I have to stop touching my cock.  A mouth replaces my hand, giving me expert oral service.  I can’t tell who.  And I don’t care.  I go back to lapping at Brice’s wet ass.

The mouth is replaced by someone’s ass.  I am being ridden by someone.  I’m not sure who---but I can guess.  I am pretty sure it’s Rod.  When he tells Brice to move, I know I’m right.  Brice stands and steps away.  Rod bounces on my cock a couple more times than gets off me and sits on the seat, offering me his freshly fucked hole.  I dive in. 

Another mystery ass is riding my dick as I rim out Rod.  Eventually I learn it is Scott.  He soon replaces Rod on the seat.  I get my first taste of Scott.  “Three dicks and your tongue…” he mutters to no one in particular.  I eat him out even more eagerly.


Scott is as turned on by rimming as I am.  He actually spends more time under the seat and eating hole than I do. 


Dreadlocks is still fucking Marco.  Marco is bearing down on his thick dick.  I can see Dreadlocks is getting close to shooting.  I go over to him.  I whisper in his ear, “Fill my boy up.  Cum in his hole.”  The ass pounding gets louder and heavier.  “You know I want to eat your load out of him.”  I’ve flipped the switch.   Dreadlocks grunts out his orgasm and Marco’s ass clenches down on him.  They kiss.  Dreadlocks knows the drill and delights in it.  He pulls out and lets me clean every drop of white cum off his black cock.  When he can’t take anymore, he shoves my face into Marco’s dripping ass.

Oh, fuck it’s good.  I can’t stop licking—cleaning his ass.  Getting him ready for the next.  And I am good.  I share the dripping hole with Rod.  Dreadlocks goes home to his partner to ring in the New Year.


More arrivals—an inter-racial couple.  The white half is Jason.  He looks like a biker—tattoos, skin head and a thick chest.  His partner, Al, is a very light skinned black.  Both are tops.  Soon we are all circling the bed—three bottoms are ass up on the bed and the four tops make the rotation until we have fucked everyone.  Scott closes his eyes so he deliberately doesn’t know who is pounding his ass.


We pause to drink a toast at midnight.  But we are there to fuck not drink.  Marco gets Brice to fist him.  He has multiple full body orgasms.  I hear the first of them as I ask Jason, the biker top, if he likes to be rimmed.  He grins and in answer gets on the fuck bench.  I love eating top ass.  He tells me no one ever does this for him.  I eat and spit making his hole as wet as any of the men taking cock.


Jason goes off to fuck  Marco in the sling.  Marco is the cum magnet tonight.  Jason loads him.  I repeat the cleaning and the felching.  I share this load with Ryan.  Soon I am fucking in the remainder.  I could easily cum in him too, but I remember my manners.  I force myself to stop and go find one of the hosts to load.

It’s Rod.  On the fuck bench.  I am so ready.  I taste his hole—slip in—and shoot.  It feels like I am turning my guts inside out after three hours of fucking.

He makes me stay in him a long time.  Marinating in the load.

He writes me later that he loved the fact that I was his first load of 2015.

Ryan gets off later that night—you should let him tell you how

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

In Transit

I was typing up the New Year's Eve Orgy post and almost lost it as my computer hiccupped.  

I stopped. 

I recovered it, but lost the time to get it finished. 

So here’s a picture full of promise…

I travel to St Louis in the morning, so hopefully you should get it by the end of the day.  I am scheduled to meet up with a couple of FP Regulars there.  And my oldest friend in town always throws me a fuck party the night before I leave town.  So I should be getting quite a bit of material. 

I will ‘force myself’ to fuck until my cock can’t take any more—just to make my readers happy. 

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Never Deeper

My Playroom—December, 2014

I survived Christmas.  And suddenly it was time for the annual New Year’s Eve orgy.  Not only did Ryan of the blog “Spreading My Legs” agree to go again, but this year my IML roommate, Marco (the muscle hole,) was going along, too.  He arrived at my house sometime after midnight on the 30th/31st.  I had made up the bed in the playroom knowing he’d be late.  We were good.  We didn’t play that night—we fell into each other’s arms and slept.

But he was up and in the shower six or seven hours later.  A quick hole stretching and we’d hit the road to pick up Ryan and journey on into Chicago for the festivities…

There is no sucking cock to get me going.  Marco, fresh from the shower and a deep cleaning, just hops right in the sling.  I can feel the heat rising off the damp hair on his butt.  I bury my face into his hole.  It never grows old.  I stick my tongue into him as deeply as possible.

He groans and I hear the popper bottle being unscrewed.  I can eat him all day, but we are on a timetable.  I jerk myself to dripping hardness as I tongue and spit into his hole.  I stand and enter him.

“God, I love your dick,” Marco moans.  “Fuck me with that thing.”

I don’t need encouragement.  I am slapping my balls against his upturned ass fast and hard.  I only slow down knowing he wants my hand.

Crisco.  Both hands covered.  Fingers investigate his hole as I kneel again in front of him.  My hands never stop.  Two fingers right.  Two fingers left.  Three and three.  Four and four.  I leave the eight fingers in him and do a small lateral stretch.  Marco sighs and closes his eyes.  I pull gently again.
I stand up.  My left hand slips to my side and I begin a tremendously slow crawl with my right hand into his guts.  My finger are cupped and open.  They close into a fist as I enter him—no, as his hole welcomes me.  His ass squeezes down on my wrist and keeps me from moving.  When he allows me to continue, I back up slightly so I can open my hand deep inside him. 

And then I am moving forward millimeter by millimeter.  My middle finger finds the path.  Marco huffs more poppers.  I pause—then keep moving forward.  Marco has never been about depth with me.  It is girth that makes him shoot.  But not this morning.  For whatever reason, I am hitting new frontiers inside him.  I bend over him, my ear resting against his stomach.  I can feel the progress my hand is making on my cheek. 

I have never felt closer to him.

I look down at my arm.  I am halfway up my forearm.  Usually he stops me an inch above my wrist.  But I straighten up and just keep going…

Marco opens his eyes.  He looks up into the mirror and sees how deeply I am embedded.  He groans and clamps down on my arm.  He should never have looked.  When he relaxes his muscles, I start pulling out as slowly as I inched forward.  When we are back at my wrist, I clench my hand slowly back into a fist. 

We wait.

Marco pushes me out.  It’s almost like a sneeze.  The force of my exit is fast and sudden.  And the girth of my first exiting his hole makes him shoot all over himself.

I bend forward and clean his uncut cock and the hairs on his belly with my tongue.

We grin.  And I go wrist deep again. 

And I’m pushed out.

We do it three times. 

Every time he pushes me out, he shoots. 

And I lovingly clean him up.

“Let’s shower,” Marco tells me. 

It’s a ritual for us—a shower together after sex.  Soapy hands on cocks.  In ass cracks.  All over backs and balls.

For two men who play for hours at a time—it’s the briefest we’ve ever been.

But we’ve never been closer…

Or deeper.

Thursday, February 12, 2015

A Bookstore Surprise--Number Two

Near Home—December, 2014

A second surprising night at the bookstore.

Another night.  Another hole.

I’m on the gay side.  One of the men who I usually meet at the local hotel parties is here.  He looks way younger than his years though he is actually in his 40’s now.  He has dark hair, cut short around his ears and rather long on top.  His jeans are around his ankles, his flannel shirt pulled up around his neck.  His still youthful face is contorted as I have him bent over one of the chairs and am fucking him hard.

To my surprise, a tall, thin Black man is there and stroking.  He is standing by Ron’s head, but not close enough to stick it in Ron’s mouth.  And the man keeps stepping out of the way each time Ron reaches for his dick.  Ron really wants that beautiful big Black dick in his mouth.

I pull out.  I bring my own cock around to Ron’s front.  The Black guy is a little agape that someone is sucking a cock straight from his hole.

I turn to the watcher.  “You wanna fuck him?” Even though I know the answer.

He looks at me.  He looks at the ass bent over in front of him.  “Yeah, I do.”

He steps around behind Ron.  He gets out a mini bottle of lube from his shirt pocket.  He pours a lot of lube on his thick, dark shaft.  He digs in his back pants pocket.  Damn.  It’s a rubber.  He rips it open and carefully unrolls the latex down the length of his cock.

I grin at Ron and suddenly the rubberized cock is pounding his ass.   It’s a loud fuck—the lean man’s hips are making loud slapping noises on Ron’s upturned ass.  I am afraid the noise will attract someone from the next room—not that Ron or I mind an audience, but I don’t think this new guy wants to be seen fucking a guy.

Just as suddenly as it started, the fucking stops.  The top has given no indication that he shot, but he pulls a wilted dick out of Ron.  The top moves to the waste basket and removes the condom. 

I go back up that freshly fucked ass. 

In moments, I fuck Ron’s load out of him.   He shoots all over the seat of the chair where it puddles and some drips to the floor.  I slow and he pulls off my unsatisfied cock.  Ron thanks me and takes off.  I head to the rest room to wash up, but the Black top has beaten me to it.


An hour later.

I have watched straight porn and gotten some indifferent head.

I head back to the gay side, hoping for anyone new.

The only man in the place is the Black top.  He hasn’t left.  He is watching a mega hung Black on the screen taking turns on two White boys.  The top’s cock is as hard again as when he was watching me fuck.  I sit in a chair on the opposite wall, right across from him.  He smiles sheepishly at me.

“Did you get off before?” I ask.

“No.  I hate condoms.  They make me go soft.”

“One of the reasons I don’t use them.”

He nods.  Then says, “I have to.  My girl.”

It’s my turn to nod.

We stroke in silence.

I break the silence:  “You want any help with that?”

He looks at me.  I can see the indecision all over his face.  “I can’t,” he falters.

“That’s all right,” I say, standing up.  I walk over and kneel I front of him.  “Just let me watch you stroke that monster.” 

He likes this.  He applies more lube to his sticky cock.  His hand moves swiftly over the shaft and head. 

I inch closer between his splayed legs.  I make sure that he can feel my hot breath on his balls, as I jack my own cock.

He speeds up.

“Damn,” I murmur.  “You smell so fucking good…”  And he does.  The sweat from his crotch is an amazing aphrodisiac.  I jerk harder.

He makes a point of showing off the length of his cock.  His hand is moving faster now.

“You should let me lick your balls.  That’s totally safe.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but then he just leans back in the chair and scoops his hand into his blue briefs where his balls are half hidden.  He pulls them out.  My tongue connects.  He groans, deep in the back of his throat.  I lick and nuzzle them like a puppy, making sure the heady smell gets all over my goatee.

“That’s…fantastic.  Put your mouth right there.”  He’s lifts his ball sack and I lower my tongue onto the wiry hairs covering his perineum.  This tastes even better.  I wonder for a moment if he’s going to push me down to lick his ass.

But it’s too much for him.

“Here.”  He struggles to stand.  I rock back on my haunches.  He points his dick right at my mouth.  I open wide—and spurt after spurt gushes out.  On my tongue.  In my beard.  On my nose. A tiny drop on my old Army shirt.  But none is wasted on the floor.

Instinctively, my tongue flicks out for the last drop hanging from his cock slit.  He hoists his shaft away at the last moment, but shakes the pearl of cum onto my tongue.  I swallow the last drop of his sweet, perhaps straight, load.

I can taste and smell him on my beard all the way home.   

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

A Bookstore Surprise--Number One

Near Home—December, 2014

In the rush of getting ready for the holidays, the bookstore nearest to my home became the answer for getting off and still having the time to do, oh, the holiday baking.  The next two posts will be about two quick play sessions.   Both surprised me for different reasons.

Number One:

I am on the straight side of the cinemas.  It’s a Friday night and the place is filling up.  When I bought my ticket, I had heard the whispers from two guys standing over by the lube display:  an ad on Craig’s List says that a straight couple is coming to the theatre tonight.  Which explains why I had to park on the street—and half a dozen men were in their cars, not venturing into the building until their quarry has been sighted. 

I unbutton my pants.  It’s a hot movie playing.  I love watching James Deen work over a rather sub woman.  I’m hard, instantly, as I watch him piston fuck her face.  Saliva and precum are making a wreck of her makeup.  And she can’t get enough of his cock or his gob in her mouth and on her face or her own deep spit dripping down to her breasts.   No, not near enough.

Neither can the men watching the video.  The six of us are all in various stages of arousal.  Three of them are groping the mound of their swollen looking crotches.  One has his hand inside his open zipper—stroking, but no one can see the dick he’s working.  One other man has his dick out and is skinning back his foreskin to show off the thick head of his cock.  But there is no man on man action happening.  They all want to see what the couple wants to do—will her mouth be whored out?  Will the Boyfriend let others fuck her?  Or maybe they will just put on a live show as they have sex in front of us. 

I love the tension in the air.  The expectancy of what is to come.  The guys tonight are much more restless in their seats—they aren’t here to just jack off or get some head on the down low from some faggot.  No man on man action is happening.  Not tonight.  There is the potential of pussy

The door buzzes.  The couple is here.  About four men follow them in.  The couple looks to be slightly younger than many I’ve seen here—maybe in their late 30’s.  She is petit, with dark blonde hair.  She ditches her coat instantly in the corner nearest the screen—she must have been here before.  She is dressed in some sort of wrap around dress that reveals a lot of leg and hugs her oversized breasts.  Her man is under six feet tall and dressed in jeans and a thermal vest over a plaid shirt.  He has a weathered face that looks like he works outside in the sun, but right now the cold outside has made it as red as the head of my cock.  He never removes his knit cap.

“Get me hard, honey.”

They waste no time.  She stands and unwraps the skirt tossing it in the chair where she had perched.  She kneels between his splayed legs, wearing just a lacy black bra and a thong— jutting a very full ass out towards the rest of the room.

Zippers open.  Cocks are hauled out.  James Deen is forgotten as we all watch the live sex.  The man looks over the crowd.  He wants to make sure that everyone is watching him get serviced.  He has the only woman in the room.  He is in control.  But I’m pretty sure he’s also checking out dicks.  He’s going to share her. 

His eyes rest on my cock.  A flicker of a smile crosses his, up to now, rather stony face.  Then an almost imperceptible nod in my direction.  I take my hand away from my dick, making a show of reaching for my water bottle on the floor.  I want him to see every inch.  Whether it’s for her—or him. 

And then the unthinkable happens.  A cute young man in a ball cap moves from the back of the room.  I think he’s pushing by me to get to the one vacant chair near me.  But he stops, drops his pants as he stands in front of me and sits on my cock.

In that moment, everything stops.

I am as surprised as the rest of the room.  Guys never fuck in the presence of a lady.  The stroking men don’t know where to look now.  The boyfriend stops the woman with a tap on her shoulder.  She turns to watch the man ride my dick.  The boyfriend doesn’t seem too pleased to be upstaged.  He scowls—but strokes his rather average cock.

The man riding me is good.  He is squeezing me on every bounce.  I love showing off, but this was not where any of us thought the scene was going.  Ball Cap guy has hijacked the scene.

And the amazing happens.

My cock rider works a load out of me in five minutes.  I grasp his hips and grind him on to my erupting penis. 

“Cum in me,” he pants.  “Give me that load.”

I hold him in place now and shudder as the last spasms of my cock subside.  It’s his turn to show off.  He gets off of me and kneels to clean up the stray cum on my cock.  His ass (it has to be dripping!!) is pointed right at the couple.  He licks me clean, makes a show of pulling up his pants and leaves the room.

Score one for the Boys.

“Suck my dick, babe.”  She gets back down between his legs.  The Boyfriend points at the next biggest dick in the room and says “Fuck her.”  The appointed— the man with the fat, foreskin covered cock head—can’t believe his good luck and moves into place…

Thursday, February 5, 2015

If I'd Only Known...

Jackson—December, 2014

I needed a break from routine.  I was having little luck in getting guys to the playroom.  And I was becoming much too much of a creature of habit in going to the bookstore on every Friday night.  I had varied it to an afternoon here and there—but I wanted to see new faces. 

Ok, ok, fresh meat was what I wanted.

I went to see my Dad in Detroit, like a dutiful son.  I stopped halfway home in Jackson and spent the rest of the day at the bookstore there.  I haven’t mentioned this one lately—for it’s been forever since I’ve used it.  It is set up in an old strip bar.  There are four viewing stations—with couches and chairs in each.  The first one you come to is showing all girl videos.  The next, deeper into the big room, is straight porn. Around a corner, in a small area, is tranny porn.  In another room, farthest from the main door, sit two screens side by side—one plays gay porn and the other shows the same straight film as the earlier seating area.  Here is where most men gather.  They can watch gay porn while looking like they are watching the straight stuff.  The tranny area is where people go to play if they don’t want as much of an audience.

In the basement is an arcade with only one gloryhole.  It is so small I cannot use it for fear of splinters.  I did not play down there at all.

When I arrived, I ditched my coat behind the couch in the two screen room.  I had worn old clothes on purpose.  I pulled out my cock.  In moments, I had a man giving me head.  Not good head, but decent warm up head.

Then it was my turn to suck a new arrival.  He seemed to love it, but didn’t want to cum.

And so the afternoon wore on:  Getting and Giving.

About 5pm, two decidedly younger men arrived.  Everyone tried to do them.  They only had eyes for each other.  They left the big, double screen room and sat in the Tranny area.  I gave them some time.  I stroked myself to full hardness, then tucked it into my pants where it tented obscenely.  I went to see what they were up to…

They are sitting side by side on a small love seat.  Each is stroking the other.  One is in his late 30’s, with dark, cropped hair.  He is tall and lean but doesn’t have that big a dick.  His seat mate is younger—maybe 27, a ginger with rather shaggy hair.  He is small, compact and ripped—his shirt is open as wide as his pants.  Tall and Lean has the Ginger’s uncut cock in his left hand.  He is just toying with the foreskin, while the Ginger is fully stroking Mr. T&L.

I stand at the corner and watch.  Not being pushy--just watching and ready to move away if they sigh or get flustered.  Instead, the Ginger smiles at me.  His legs spread in an unspoken invitation.  I move in and kneel.  I take the uncut dick out of T&L’s hand.  I swallow it down.  I come back up for air and begin working my tongue into the foreskin.  I get a sigh of total satisfaction from the Ginger.  I expect the Ginger to lean over and suck T&L.  Instead, the man I’d almost gotten off moves in.  He kneels beside me and we work the young ones in tandem.  The Ginger is leaking profusely.  I swallow his pre-cum.  I have stopped jerking myself as I suck.  I put all my concentration on getting him off.

I listen to the noisy blowjob next to me.  It’s very wet, over there, too.  The man is using his hand and his mouth.  T&L is holding on to the man’s ears.  The Ginger is tracing aimless patterns on my scalp, my ears and the back of neck.  Only occasionally does his hand hold me in place as he decides he needs to fuck my face.  Then he relaxes and lets me do my job.

T&L blows first.  After all, his sucker cheated with that jerking hand.  The sound of the orgasm next to him, makes the Ginger leak more.  And soon he is blowing into my gulping mouth.  Five quick, but big spurts.  Sweet.  Anything but salty.

He relaxes.  (T&L zips up and is gone the second he’s done spurting.) I clean out his foreskin.  Getting every drop of his young jizz.  Now I use my hand to skin him back—yup, nothing left.  I’ve swallowed it all.  I look up. 

He smiles at me.  “That was great.”  He slowly pulls his patterned briefs into place.  “But I really wanted you to fuck me.  I love it raw.”

I sit back on my haunches—hoping he’s good to go for more. 

“It’s a shame,” he says standing up.  “You obviously have a big one.”

He zips up and is out the door…

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Different Is Good

Chicago—December, 2014

Ryan, of the blog “Spreading My Legs,” and I went off to Chicago for the monthly piss party.  We had a great time.  I took the sling, so we arrived early to get it set up.  Ryan had never seen the bar in full light—all cinder block and chipping paint.  It looks so different than the dark, wet place it becomes during the party.  We’d been cautioned by the organizer that it might be a smaller gathering, but it turned out to be a great mix of regulars and newbies—all of them playful.

I could talk in this post about rimming a very hot Hispanic both along the back wall and later in the sling.  He would lift his legs for any man’s tongue on his hole.  But that’s all he wanted.  Even knowing I couldn’t follow up with my dick, it was a joy to eat his furry ass.  I loved watching the pleasure creep across his face as someone’s tongue invaded his hole ever deeper.

I could also talk about my f-bud David, he of the magnificent ass pushing out of his neoprene singlet. Hebraic, dark and sexually driven, David and I have a long history (click on David in the cloud of topics to the right).  He loves me to fuck him and to piss inside that hot hole.  He crops up in what I want to talk about, but the usual whoring out of his hole was done before my story begins.

The f-bud with the dark Red Hair who I often mention in connection with the piss party was also there that night.  He took a very wet turn in the sling.  I kept pissing his ass crack, and then fucking it.  Sometime towards the end, RH made a suggestion…

“Would you like me to eat your butt?”

I look at him.  It’s happened before, so I shouldn’t be surprised.  But I am.  Guy’s go for that thick schlong of mine; few think anything about this rather flat ass.

“You should get in the sling so I can really do it right.”

I shrug and get onto the only slightly damp leather.  He carefully gets my boots into the stirrups.  My ass is feeling terrifically exposed and vulnerable.  RH hands me his bottle of poppers.

I take a hit. 

RH kneels.  And his tongue is right there.  He is drilling as deep as he can.

“Jesus…” I grunt.

RH redoubles his efforts.  He licks, he spits, he grinds in as deeply as possible.

My cock is rock hard.  I am actually afraid to touch it.  Different is good.  Hell, different is making me precum like I did at 18.

RH stands up.  I huff some poppers.  I am just closing the lid as the piss hits my ass crack.  The temperature of the liquid is so hot on my exposed crack.  He directs his piss up to my cock, my balls and back to my hairy hole.  As his stream slows, he kneels and licks me clean.  He lingers on my crack, but he cleans my cock and my balls and the stray splash in my naval.

Just as he’s finishing, a f-bud of his, a handsome man with grey hair comes up behind him.  The look in his eyes says it all—he can’t believe what he’s seeing.  He stands close to RH and let’s go with a mega-flow of piss.  RH is slurping piss as fast as he can as it sluices down my ass crack.  His tongue is poking some of it into my hole.  The moment the new man is done pissing he kneels beside RH and they begin working in tandem to clean me up.  It’s first one tongue and then the other in my ass.
They kiss.  They yellow ball piss back and forth.  One of them spits it back onto my crack for them to do it all over again.

My eyes are screwed shut.  I am beating my meat again and soaring with the poppers.

Just about when I feel dry, another load of piss makes me open my eyes.  A donor is spewing a perfect arc of pale gold at my dick.  It creates a beautiful waterfall for the two kneeling men.  This sends them into a frenzy of piss slurping and licking.  A fourth man soon does the same thing.  His is not so much of an arc.  It just erupts from his dick and hits me in the balls.

My eyes are closed again.  I can feel three distinct tongues working my crack and ass cheeks.  Finally I open them.  Up stands David, with large cock rampant.  For a second, I am sure he is going to plow my ass.  It’s lined up perfectly.  He bends to kiss me and gives me a mouthful of piss.

And the next thing I know David is climbing onto the sling.  Still facing me, he gets a boot on either side of my chest and slowly sits on my cock.  He balances by holding the frame above him.  I do a quick calculation.  My weight + my guess at David’s weight = less than the 350 lbs. the stand can supposedly hold.  Then I stop math and concentrate on the incredible ass sinking down on my dick.  David fucks himself slowly—letting every muscle in his canal squeeze my over excited cock.  RH re-doubles his efforts on my ass crack, but now his tongue snakes up to lick at my cock going into David.  I can only imagine it looks hot as Hell—but it getting uncomfortable really fast.  David’s legs are tiring.  He is smashing against my stomach in an odd way. 

“Let’s do this right,” I tell him.

David carefully lifts off my crimson cock and steps down.  I get up with RH’s help.  We kiss a moment so I can taste my ass.  We get David into the sling.  I sink into him.  I am so in need of release.  I fuck.  I think I am going to cum.  And just as fast, the feeling passes.  I fuck him harder.  I slow and pull out.  RH and I go down to lick at David’s fucked hole.

Ryan comes over.  He fucks David and gives him a load.  This inspires RH, usually all bottom at this event, to fuck David.

Then it’s my turn.  I’m back up his muscle hole.  I pause.  I think I might shoot again.  Instead, it’s a flood of piss that goes up David’s gut.  David grunts the moment he feels the hot liquid start filling him up.  And he shoots—a huge load all over his singlet.  His ass clamps down on me, milking every drop of piss.

He hops out.  “Now remember,” David tells me and RH, “I’m the one who is supposed to be in the sling.”

I nod.  But I look at RH and smile.

We both know that something different can be very, very good.


I did get off in Chicago David, a hot businessman type.

And I get to sleep with Ryan in his bed—exhausted and sated.