Thursday, December 3, 2015

Cock Sucking Bitch

It was shaping up to be quite a week.  I usually play two, maybe three times in a typical week.  This split week of the end of September and the beginning of October was full.  I had had the premature ejaculator on Monday and then went off to the playroom of the bearish couple on Tuesday.  Now I had men booked for every day for the rest of the week.

Wednesday was Jake coming to my playroom—a silver haired kinky man who I wrote about in Sex in Four Quarter Time.  I was ready to do a little CBT with him and sink my fists up his muscled hole, not to mention my dick.  An email changed things slightly.   Cam, the married man who hosts the motel parties I attend, was looking for something to do—was I playing?  I explained what was on tap.  Cam had always wanted to learn how to fist.  With Jake’s permission, I invited him over. 

We both fucked Jake.  And then I demoed the technique of getting my hand in Jake’s butt.  I would show him the cupped fingers and slight twist that allowed my fist to enter.  Cam would try.  Both Jake and I would tell him to slow down.  And while it was fun (and even educational) neither top came—though I gave Jake a sling shuddering anal orgasm.

And Cam learned that a fisting bottom needs to be the one in charge—at least until you know your way around his ass.

Thursday was a re-match of Jerry and I (leather tops) working over mild mannered Tyler.  Once again, I took my sling to Jerry’s Victorian house and set it up in his living room.  It was almost exactly the same session that I wrote about in Blindfolded.   So much so, that I don’t need to write it up again.

Friday, well, the luck couldn’t hold.  Two men were to come to the playroom, give me their asses and stay over for a second round on Saturday morning.  They had to cancel.  Food poisoning.  I think I even believed them—though none of us have made any overtures to try to re-schedule.  I was fine with not playing at all on Friday.  By Saturday, I kind of wanted to find some ass, but got busy and didn’t bother.

By Sunday I needed play.  So, with no one on line, I went to the bookstore.

Near Home—October, 2015

I sit and stroke.  The gay theatre is empty.  But the movie is good—and I can hear no activity on the straight side through the vent in the shared wall.  The video is bareback which is unusual here.  I play with my pre-cum absently, smearing it around my red cock head—hoping I’m not going to be here all alone all night.

The door opens noisily.   I am sitting off to the side where I can’t see who just came in.  But I can hear the person who has just entered.  A long unzip of a zipper and suddenly a jacket is tossed on the nearest chair.  Then, a moment later, a shirt.  Finally the man emerges.  He has been ditching his male clothes to get down to a skin tight maroon teddy which stretches tightly across his rather portly frame—worn with a regular pair of Wranglers and cowboy boots.   It’s an odd ensemble—but you can see he thinks he looks pretty as he makes an Entrance with a capital E.

And better yet—he gives great warm up head:  wet, lots of suction and not in a hurry for my load.  He is on his knees for a long time. 

A Daddy type joins us.  My cock sucker tries to get up, but I hold him in place.  The Daddy whips out a fairly small dick, and sticks it in my mouth while I’m still sitting there getting blown.  The new man shoots in my mouth almost immediately.  As he puts his spent dick away, the cock sucker gets up and dresses.   Both leave, never to be seen again that night.

*****

Later that night I eat the ass of the boy who likes to strip naked as he strokes.  His knees are on the chair, his chest resting on the chair back.  I’m on the floor—my face buried in his fine, lightly haired butt.  He’s watching the porn and stroking as I eat him out.  Occasionally, I wrest his cock out of his hand, swirl my tongue around the wet head, and poke his precum into his ass.

About the third time I do this, he grunts, spins around and just manages to get his cock in my mouth before he explodes.

He grins, dresses and leaves.

I go check the straight side.

It’s darker in here.  The porn is in credits on a very dark background.  I can’t really see.  But I am sure a man and a woman are sitting on the sofa.  I fumble to the chair nearest the door.  I can hear the sound of stroking.  Is she doing him?  Or is he stroking himself as he looks at her?  I get myself out of my jeans.  I am so fucking hard, with the taste of that boy’s ass still on my tongue.

I turn.  Both people on the sofa have dicks in their hands.  The woman is a man—this one in full, passable drag.  His panty hose are pulled down around his balls as he strokes.  The other man is a mousy older man who looks fascinated and scared of the person next to him.  I turn, showing off my cock to the two, just as the room brightens and we are into the movie proper.  The guy in drag licks his lips while looking at my dick—something I usually find a turn off, but not tonight, dressed as he is in some 1970’s house dress.

I hesitate.  But then I get up and stand in front of the cross dresser.  His mouth is all over me.  I look down.  Damn, it’s been a long time since I’ve had lipstick on my dick.  The head is nowhere near as good as the first man, but it’s looking like this is my only real choice.  The other man on the couch has put his dick away and contents himself with an occasional squeeze as he watches us.

I face fuck the drag queen.  I mess up her carefully coiffed red wig by holding on to the sides of her head and plowing into her mouth.  Eye make-up begins to run.  I think about easing up a little, so I pull out.  But he hisses “Use my mouth, Daddy.  Make me your cock sucking bitch.”

So I do.  I’m sure he’s going to cum first.   I want to shoot in his mouth.  But I want to use him first.  I want to see that make up ruined with tears and sweat and lust.

That thought sends me over the edge.  I explode in his mouth.   Cum squirts out of the sides of his mouth and drips onto his dress.  He’s not swallowing.  I pull out and the last squirts hit him just under his nose and drips onto the ruined remains of the once lipsticked mouth.

And he spits me out.

The fucker daintily turns to the side and lets the rest of my load drool onto the floor.

I want to make a point.  As he turns back, his hand still busy with himself, I kneel and knock it away.  He covers himself again with a manicured hand.  My mouth isn’t going on his tiny cock.  I lick the exposed balls.   The contact makes him shoot and he shudders, no longer in control.  I am able to take his load, as he tries to push me off.

When his body stops shaking, I stand up.  He can’t take his eyes off me.  I show him the load in my mouth. For moment, he’s sure I’m going to spit his bitter semen all over his face.

But I swallow.  Swallow it all.  Make a show of it.

“That’s what cock sucking bitches do,” I say as I button up my pants.  “If I ever let you suck my dick again, don’t spit my cum on the floor.”

6 comments:

  1. I love your blog. In this latest entry I particularly enjoyed how you deprived the bitch of having his cum spat back in face, teaching him a lesson about swallowing. I always swallow the gifts of a man's piss and cum (except the nasty piss that makes me involuntarily wretch)

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    1. Thanks for speaking up--I'm glad you enjoy my adventures.

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  2. WOW, that story was hot, but the ending was HOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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    1. Thanks, LP. I guess I really wanted to make my point....

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  3. Ha! Loved the image of the mess and then "her" taken down a notch verbally...

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    1. Well, I was always taught "waste not, want not..."

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