It was late.
The pigs in my room had long departed—back to their hotels, home or the bus. I was sated, I told myself. But I wasn’t. I got up off the bed.
“Arh?” Bob grunted.
“I’m going out.” I grabbed my leather jacket and headed out the door.
I am on the 8th floor of the host hotel in no time. I wind around the maze of the corridor. 805. Here we are. The door is propped open.
The hot man on the bed in the jockstrap is talking to a man who has obviously just shot a load in his ass.
“Hey,” says the hot one, “I was wondering if I’d see you this year.”
He gets up. We hug. The hot ass sticking out of the jock belongs to Ryan Cummings, the man I made the porn with last IML and then fucked countless times at a play party. He has not been filming this time around. Just having fun. With as much dick as he can get.
We talk of this and that: How his career has really taken off; how Treasure Island threw him a gangbang with additional loads (that they allowed to spoil in the refrigerator); how a man hurt him a week or so ago trying to fist him.
“It’s healing. I just have to be careful.”
And the release of Cumming to Chicago. “My fans love it.”
I tell him I haven’t seen it. Ryan gets up and starts it in his laptop. And there I am leading the first pack attack of men up his ass.
The door opens and a slightly chunky Black man in his late 30’s enters. He starts stripping. He’s also confused by seeing the two of us on the laptop and sitting right in front of him. “Was that earlier today?”
We explain as I strip. I let him go first. Ryan is right on the edge of the bed, on all fours. The man sinks to his knees and begins to lick that load filled ass. “Damn,” he murmurs, “I could stay here all night.”
But he doesn’t. He starts to fuck him.
The door opens. A young man enters. He strips down, never taking his eyes off of us. He is ripped, with a nice enough dick.
The man pulls out and the boy is on his knees before I can pull out of Ryan’s mouth and move around. He feasts on the hole for a moment as the two of us jack. He stands and fucks. He shoots fast. But he doesn’t leave. He sits on the floor and tells me to fuck Ryan. I eat some of the boy’s load, swallow it down and sink my cock into his hole for the first time in a year.
I churn who knows how many loads in his muscle ass.
I pull out and let the older man clean the frothy mess I’ve left on Ryan’s hole.
The boy has not lost his erection. He eats Ryan out and fucks him again. No load this time, but graciously gives way for me to fuck him again.
Round and round we go. The three of us who look so different, but are all hole obsessed; all taking pleasure in the cum and precum we leave behind in Ryan.
The boy shoots again.
I do clean up on his dick. I need to shoot. I lick at Ryan’s hole one last time—just a quick flick with my tongue. I sink my cock in to the fresh batch of cream in his ass.
I am over the edge. I shudder and shoot my final load of the weekend.
I pull out and the man cleans my dick. He turns ravenously and slurps my load noisily out of Ryan’s hole. I lie on the bed, closing my eyes, and listen to the man fuck Ryan. I hear him shoot. When I open my eyes, the two of them are dressing.
I do the same.
“Here.” Ryan is at the bureau. He pulls out a blank DVD case. He checks the contents and snaps it shut. “Here’s a DVD of us.”
I thank him. I kiss him good bye.
There are new men coming in the door. Ryan grins at me and gets on the bed as they strip…
A fitting end to IML---every pun intended.
Cumming to Chicago--Bad Seed Media
(That's me in Ryan's Mouth)