Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Rough Fuck in the Basement

Northwest Indiana—October, 2015

I desperately needed some non-oral play.  I love to suck cock—but dammit, I needed to fuck.  From out of nowhere I got a message from the sub I had met for the first time when I worked in this area last year.  We’d played twice: once when I crawled through his window to “rape” him with another top and again in his basement.  I’d lost his contact info—but he wrote me out of the blue.  No crawling through his window this year.  He wanted a more formal Dom/sub scene. A rough fuck.

“I’ve bought more toys…” he told me.  He wasn’t lying.  I got to his farmhouse, and we went down to his basement play area.  Dildos and restraints were on three different tables.  His sling hung from the rafters.  He had put a tarp under the sling.  “Piss here,” he murmured, pointing at it.  “And I don’t care about that old chair.”  Now he pointed to a once over-stuffed chair, now in tatters.  “You could piss on me there too.”

I changed into my leathers away from the set-up, over in the shadows by an ancient furnace.  As I walked back into the play area, he knelt.  He’d shed his bathrobe and was wearing nothing but very tall boots and a Neoprene jock, edged in red.  He looked good.  5’8”, still very tan, not worked out, but nicely fit.  His dark hair was buzzed short.

I stood in front of him for a long moment.  Silent.  I picked up a wrist restraint.  “Give me your left arm…”


He’s trussed to his chains hanging from the rafters.  Normally they support his sling, at this moment they are supporting him.  Leather restraints are on his wrists.  He’s not going anywhere.  And I am flogging his back and ass.  Ten strokes in, I stop and check in with him. 

“You doin’ ok, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.  You can hit me harder, Sir.”

I rub my hand down his back and along his ass crack.  “It’s not about hurting you.  Not for me.  I don’t want to mark you—just want to get the blood circulating, warming you.”  And invariably, it makes a horny man even more so.

I run the handle of the flogger down his ass crack and work his hole with it.  He moans deep in the back of his throat.  I step back.  Two strokes to his back.  Two to his ass.  Repeat.  He’s writhing now.  Especially when I hit his ass.  I concentrate on that.

Finally I stop.  His cheeks are a fiery red.  But no skin is broken.  I move behind him—pressing my front to his heated back.  He groans again as I hold him.  And I start pissing.  I’m taller, so I’m above his ass.  It cascades down over his flaming butt cheeks.  He grinds against me.  I have to really concentrate to keep the piss flow going.

I step back.  “Now arch your back.  Thrust that dripping red ass out there.”

He does.  It’s a hot, hot sight.  I get on my knees and clean off every drop of piss with my tongue.  I am rock hard.  I enter him for the first time that night.  Pretty much all of it.  One thrust.  He howls—but it’s in bliss not pain.

I fuck him hard, with all my pent up frustration. 

I fuck him until he gasps out a “Thank you…Sir…”

*****

I have fucked him in the sling.  I have pissed on his chest while I did it—arcing some up to his mouth, but mostly covering his chest before driving my cock back into him.  I have used an array of toys on him.  Big.  Small.  Oddly shaped.  Each has stretched his hole, getting it ready for my hand.
I help him out of the sling to stretch.  I also make him kneel.  He does.  “Now taste your ass on my dick.”  He swallows me down.  He only pulls off my shaft to clean my balls every bit as thoroughly.  I piss again.  Directly in his mouth.  He gurgles it down happily.  It’s coming so fast that he can’t swallow quite fast enough and piss splashes on my boots.

“Clean them,” I tell him.  He is down on all fours, tonguing my boots to a true spit shine.

“Stay there.”  I move around and get in the sling.  “Now eat my ass.”  He attacks my hole.  Truly attacks—it hurts, he’s so hungry.  I tell him to slow down and savor—not devour.  That does the trick.  He makes my ass crack sodden.  I even manage to piss—letting it spurt up in the air and then down over his face and my ass crack.  He licks me clean, thanking me endlessly…

*****

I have a big toy up his butt.  He is small framed.  I worry about getting my medium sized hand in him.  I pull out the toy and grease both hands.  Surprisingly, my right—the slightly bigger hand—worms into him the first time he hits the poppers. 

Then my left.

I can’t get much depth—but he loves the stretch of my palm and the snap of his ass closing around my wrist.

I do it again and again.  Left. Right. Left…

*****

It’s late.

“I need to get off, boy.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Where do you want me to shoot?”

“Anywhere you want, Sir.”

“In your ass?”

“Yes, sir.  Breed my piss cunt, Sir.”

“Yeah?  You like cum in your ass?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I want you to push it out later.  And eat it.”

“Yes, Sir.  Gladly, Sir.   Give it to me.”

I pull my dick out and slap the pouch of his jock with it.  I bend and taste his hole one last time.  I rise up, slip it into his gape and let go.  He squeezes down on my dick so that I think it might snap off.  He milks every drop, as I grab onto the chains and hang on…

Indeed, when I am washing up in his bathroom upstairs, I notice that the tiny blood vessel on the top of my dick has broken leaving a red mass under the skin.

A rough fuck, indeed.

4 comments:

  1. Well, I'm surprised your dick hasn't fallen off. You've been a busy boy in October! ;-)

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    1. That's the next entry...

      Have a great 2016!

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  2. Hey FP,

    Great story! Your stories just keep getting hotter -- I love the ones of you taking loads in the bookstores! Happy New Year -- on New Year's Eve I always think back to the numerous NYE orgies I attended at Bob and Edgar's. I'm sorry you never joined us! I'd have liked to get you either on or under the Joy-Rider!

    Paul, NYC

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    1. Thanks, Paul--and thanks for your years of reading my tales from the sleazier side of the sling. During the years they were throwing those parties, I was working on New Year's Eve. And I don't know how I would have felt about playing with my brother around. Now, it would not phase either of us...

      Oh, the Joy-Rider--the one piece of sex furniture I don't own that I REALLY want....

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