My Playroom—March, 2015
He wrote me on the site which is geared to fisting. He wasn’t sure about taking my hand, but he sure wanted my dick. He was working in my area at the end of the week. We agreed to let him finish work, drive closer to me, where he’d get a room to clean up, and then come get worked over in the playroom. I had had five days to recover from Rough House—and I was finally ready for sex again.
But he was late getting away from work. But he let me know.
He was pulled over for speeding. But he let me know.
He checked in almost a full hour later than we had planned. But we were still fine. Still on.
He had trouble getting clean. But he let me know…
Then “Set and on my way,” read the text. But nothing.
Then a phone call—he’d typed the wrong address into his GPS. It took him miles south of my house.
I talked him back into town and to my street. I watched him park.
He looked worth the wait…
“Come on in.”
He’s nervous. Apologetic. He’s a young looking 40. About 6 foot. I follow him up the stairs and like the look of his ass in his jeans. I like it better when he shucks them off and stuffs them into the chest of drawers. His ass is lightly furred. As is his chest, his forearms. The beard on his face is darker than any of the other hair on his body.
He gets right to it. The moment his clothes are off, he is kneeling in front of my jock pouch. He reaches up and opens it. No getting that cloth wet for him. My cock springs out. I’ve been ready for him for a long time. He sucks me deeply. His throat squeezes my thickening cock.
I look down. He has a throbbingly hard cock himself. And from the size, I am sure he’s asked to top all the time.
I get him on the fuck bench. Poppers are opened as my tongue invades his hole. His hard dick is right at the end of the bench, hard and pointing down, dripping onto the mat below. I work my tongue down his crack and then over his balls and down his shaft. I catch some of his pre-slime with my tongue. I drill it into him. This merits a nice groan from Sam. I spit. I want my dick in him.
I stand. My head rests right against his pucker. “You said raw, right?”
“Fuck, yes. Give me that thing.”
He may not get it often, but he takes me like a champ. My cock just moves right in. Not fast. Not slow. Just nice and steady. I am balls deep in no time.
Sam moves around enough so he can grab his dick and strokes himself as I fuck. I build to a nice speed and slow down. I pull it out. He’s spotless. I bring it around to his mouth.
No interest in sucking me now. He’s failed the pig test. I bend to kiss him—as if that’s what I wanted to do all along.
I fuck him again.
We move to the sling.
We agree I won’t try for a hand, but I do stretch him with the speculum. I show him with a mirror how open I have cranked him.
I stick my dick into him. I never tire of feeling the cool metal on the sides and warm flesh on the top and bottom.
Sam never takes his eyes from the mirror over the sling. And he never stops jerking his dick. Occasionally I bat his hand away as I fuck, but back it goes to his sizable cock.
We are lolling on the bed, in the middle of a mini-break.
“Ever been on a rimseat?”
Sam shakes his head.
“Then it’s time you were.”
I get under and position the seat over my face. He sits, slowly, with some trepidation. Until my tongue goes deeper than ever into him. “Jesus!” I hear the poppers open. He is grinding his ass down on my face. He can’t get enough.
“I want you to fuck me on here.”
My ears and my cock perk up. Something new? Amazingly, I have never used it to fuck. Sam gets up. We put a pillow under my butt, then the rimseat square over my crotch. Sam sits carefully. He can sit still and I fuck up into him.
It feels great.
In moments I feel my thighs being coated with his jizz. I will myself to cum, but it’s just too fast. I can’t do it.
Sam scrambles up and off my dick. Apologetic again.
We’re done. He can’t take dick after he’s shot. I sigh.
But I don’t much care—the piss party is the next day.