Northwest Indiana—April, 2016
I came back home from St. Louis totally sated. But in the days to come, the death of my Dad certainly caught up with me—and I didn’t play much in March, except for the motel party which I have already written up. (It’s the one where there were plenty of cock suckers and not one man thought he could take me up his butt.)
After months of no contact, I got a message from the man I’d worked over a few times in his farmhouse in the cornfields of Indiana. He told me he had found the blog and figured out which entries were about him. He wanted some more—and thought I might like to get rid of some of my tension on his ass.
I agreed and one early evening in April, I headed west. I found the farmhouse. I went in the side door and straight down into the basement. He was in the sling hanging from the thick, old rafters. Toys were laid out on every available space. There were three kinds of lube for my pleasure. The tarp was under the sling. The man lying there was in his early 40’s, dressed in his neoprene jock and harness, with tall work boots. He was blindfolded with an ancient red bandana. He was very aware I was in the room, but said nothing. I stripped down, got into my leathers and put on the rank jock I knew he’d like.
I crack open a bottle of Gatorade that he has set out for me in a cooler. I take a long swig. I put it down. Noisily. I watch him listening to every move I make. The tension is building. He’s wondering what I will do first. Where will I touch him? I pick up a leather paddle. I massage my cock mound with my other hand. Once I’m half hard, I pull it out of the smelly pouch. I advance to the firm ass on display in the sling.
“This mine tonight?” My index finger makes a light pattern on his left cheek.
My hand brushes lightly down his ass crack. He shivers. Without warning I give him a terrific whack on the right cheek with the paddle.
He grunts out a “Thank you, Sir.”
I smack him again. I begin alternating cheeks. They are turning a nice rosy red. Just as fast I stop. I kneel and stick my tongue between the hot cheeks. I find his hole and tongue him deeply. Moments later, I stand back up and smack him loudly and deliberately on each cheek.
I can tell that it’s bordering on hurting now—not just getting his blood going. I do two more than cover the red cheeks with my piss. He gasps in surprise.
“Feed me some, Sir.”
But I don’t pay attention to his request. When the stream is done, I lick some off his abused ass and push some of it up his hole. Remembering how tight his ass can be, I lube up a medium sized dildo from his collection. It opens him up easily.
I replace it with my raw cock. He squeezes down on my dick. He’s still blindfolded and the idea of not knowing what is going to happen next is turning him on. I go back to the dildo. Then my cock. I think about using the toy with my cock, but I know it’s too thick.
I pull my dick out of his wet mancunt. I bring it up to his face. “Open your mouth.”
He does. I let him clean my dick. I turn his head so I can fuck his face if I stand on my toes. I go deep enough that my jock pouch brushes his nose. He groans around my dick. I pull my dick out and, using my hand inside the pouch, fuck his face with the fabric covered fingers.
“Suck the juices out,” I tell him, as if he wasn’t already doing it.
Once it’s sopping, I go back to his ass. I am in him deep enough to grind the now wet pouch against his hole.
“Oh, yeah,” he croons.
“This jock belongs to a Canadian reader of my blog. He’ll love your ass juices all over it.”
The boy makes a sound of uncontrolled lust. I keep fucking and do another round of ass to mouth. And jock to mouth.
I need to piss again. I pull out and rest my cock on his lips. It takes a moment, but suddenly I’m flooding his stomach with my piss.
I grab a slender toy off the table. I lube it quickly and push it into his ass.
“Use me...any way you like.”
“Like this?” I add my hard dick alongside the toy. It’s tight. Almost too damn tight, but I keep going. His hole finally surrenders and loosens around the twin invaders. I fuck like that until I could easily shoot in him.
But I want to try one more thing.
I grease up my left hand—the smaller one. Fingers and thumb slide right in. A push. And the bridge of my hand is almost in. I add lube to my knuckles. The man takes a huge hit of poppers and pushes his ass towards me. I pop through the ring and his ass slams shut around my wrist.
I work it for a moment.
I then try my right hand. It takes the poppers—but I again have my whole hand in him. I work it around every so slowly in his hot ass. With my left hand, still a lube smeared mess, I stroke my dick to full hardness. I slide my hand out. My dick goes in. There is quick jet of piss—and then I’m shooting my ten day load into him.
I leave him, still blindfolded, a dripping, sodden mess.