Fort Wayne—February, 2015
It was cold. So cold, that even with a space heater running for 24 hours beforehand, I couldn’t raise the temperature enough in the playroom for a naked guy to feel comfortable. I sent Roger a text. He was due here to continue the stretch of his hole. He suggested I come to him. I tossed some things in a bag, packed the rimseat and headed south into the wilds of Indiana.
His house is new—and looks like the decorator just left. Well, maybe not the study where there are various stacks of papers, books and magazines. And where there is a sling hanging from a steel frame in the middle of the room. We secure a tarp under it. “I want a piss fuck,” he tells me. I set up the rim seat in the far corner.
Roger stops stripping. “Do you need to unload?”
I nod. We head into the bathroom. Out of habit for him, I think. He hunkers down. My cock is slightly plump but not hard. I wait. I can feel my cock adjust from sex mode to piss mode. The vessels open—and my piss starts. It’s a sputter—spraying the inside of his mouth. He groans—making it sound like I’ve served him a fine wine. And truly, I have hydrated the entire hour it took me to drive to his house. The flow is gaining momentum. It is quickly becoming a gusher. It fills his mouth. The piss eddies around the head of my cock before he swallows it down. I pump a huge, sweet load down his gullet.
We waste no time in stripping the rest of the way and getting Roger into the sling. I eat his hole. I am actually able to piss a little more on his ass crack as I eat. He loves the hot liquid stream down the valley of his ass cheeks and my hotter tongue lapping it up.
I enter him easily. No slow inching in here. The piss load has turned the rather proper man into a whore. He is begging for me to slam into him—to fuck him without mercy—to fuck him as hard as I am able.
I do just that.
“I need to give you back some of your piss.”
Roger is out of the sling all on his own—no help needed. We stay right in the study this time. I kneel and take his half hard cock in my mouth. He feeds me every drop I gave him. And more of his own. Full circle. When he’s done, I take a huge swig of Gatorade. I know just what I want to do with my next piss load.
We fuck some more.
I go under the rimseat. “Make me felch the load today,” I tell him. But now I’m more than happy with his natural ass juices and the precum I’ve left behind. And that hint of piss from earlier. My cock is so damn hard. I jerk as I eat him out and slurp noisily.
“I need to fuck,” I tell him as I tap his thighs to get him up and off the seat.
Back in the sling. And in just a few strokes I feel it rising. In moments I shoot my load.
Again Roger is out of the sling. “Eat me out like you promised.”
I am under the seat. I lick and eat my stringy load. I love the taste of my cum. The very act of felching is not letting my cock go down. My cock is as hard as if I haven’t shot yet.
I am ready for what I want to do.
“Sling…” I mumble into his butt.
Roger is back in it. My angry red cock is up him—fucking in the remnant of my cum.
“You wanted it,” I grunt out.
And I’m pissing. Deep in his hole. I hold still—with my cock still spewing out the pale yellow liquid, I begin fucking.
“Oh, God,” mumbles Roger. “Give it to me. Fuck that piss into me. Fuck. Fuck me!”
I fuck until there is not a drop left in my bladder. It’s the biggest load of the day. My load, his load and a whole lot more of Gatorade.
I pull out. My cock finally is softening. I bend to taste his hole.
Roger squeezes. Just one tiny spasm. A splash of piss shoots out of his ass and into my mouth.
Only then do I grease up and start using my hands on his pissed out hole.