Bike

Playroom--August, 2011

After a very busy summer, so busy I could barely play, this was one of my first encounters once I was free.  We hadn’t talked much on the phone, but he’d let enough drop to let me know he was eager to try some new things.

I let him in the front door. I’m still dressed in jeans and a rumpled shirt. He is looking fairly Abercrombie and Fitch. I swig from my water bottle and lead him up the steps. In the playroom I point out drawers where he can put all those nice clothes. He is looking good. Almost muscular, 5’9-ish, cubbish, maybe 38. I think about the time I bred him in Lansing--during a motel fourway. And then how we’d met again at another group and he was sitting on my cock--or trying to-- all night. We’ve never played one on one. My cock stirs in the Bike jock--an old fashioned one with the wide elastic band--and one I’d been wearing all day at his request.

I strip in my downstairs bedroom, giving him time to undress. I clomp up the steps, dressed in boots, the jock and a leather wrist band, . I look at him for a long moment--sitting on the bed--his eyes glued to the porn on the screen. He rises as I move into the room. A furry cub of a man. We kiss. His hand goes to my jock and begins to knead. He breaks off the kiss and kneels in front of him. He inhales deeply--eyes tightly closed. Tentatively, his tongue darts out. He begins to lick the cloth pouch. For me, this is a very clean jock. Rinsed early in the morning and just worn all day. The feel of his lips and tongue are beginning to distend the pouch obscenely as my cock hardens. With his teeth, he pulls the material back so he can get at my balls. Slowly he makes them wet. Then it’s back to the pouch. He chews on a piece of it. The jock is incredibly damp. I am doing nothing but standing and looking at us in the mirror over the bureau--nothing but drinking my water, making encouraging sounds and absently patting his head as he is lost in the smell and taste of my jock, my cock and balls. Finally, I ease my cock out to the side of the sopping pouch. He audibly sighs. I’m mostly hard, but not all the way yet. He takes me in his mouth. He’s good. Very good. He takes me to the root repeatedly. Only once does he choke for a moment. I am now hard and dripping.

I pull him up. We kiss again, but he has no real interest in it. I consider sucking his cock, but instead turn him around and get him on all fours at the edge of the bed. It’s a beefy, full, hairy ass. I kneel. My tongue finds his hole. I reach for the small bottle of lube I keep in the band of the jock. Never stopping the rimming, I lube up my cock. I rise up, swipe my cock head down his furry crack--leaving a trail of sticky mess. I kneel back down, stroking myself and eating his hole--and shoving in some of my precum. I rise and slap my cock on his upturned ass. I’m so hard it makes a louder sound than I anticipate.

“Fuck me. Come on, Fu--”

He never finishes the sentence for my cock is driving forward. To the hilt in one swift thrust. I pull almost all the way out and slam it in again. This sparks him to be very verbal. He starts a babble about being bred. As if I am even close… I fuck. And fuck. I change up the stroke repeatedly. I never want him to know what’s coming.

After a time I pull out and pull him up. We embrace. I try for a kiss--but he will have none of it. Ah, one of those. No chance after I rim--though he couldn‘t be cleaner. What a shame…

I get him over to the sling. I just bend him into it. He’s standing, holding onto the chains as his chest is cradled by the leather. I drop down to taste and feel how different his ass is now, after all that fucking. Puffy, open, self lubing. I jerk as I eat. Little else makes my cock harder. I rise. He braces for the onslaught of my cock in his hole. But he gets piss.

I piss hard--never losing my erection. Not much. Enough to make him gasp. Then moan. The piss forms a little pool in the small of his back and snakes down his ass crack. I kneel and slurp it up.

“Fuck, that’s hot.”

I grunt and lick up more. I work his ass crack with my tongue until he starts to beg for my cock. I spit directly onto his hole, rise, and put just the head of my cock in him.

“Please.”

I lean forward and it begins inching into his gut. “Take it.”

He does--repeatedly--for endless minutes.

He’s flipped now. Lying in the sling, legs in stirrups and spread wide. I’m buried the deepest I‘ve been all night, leaning in and gnawing on his nipples. I pull out and slap my cock on his soft cock, his tightened balls. Without warning a stream of piss covers his cock. His eyes widen. Without missing a beat I shove it up his ass--still streaming piss.

“God--yes….that’s so hot.”

He’s right. It has taken the temperature of his butt through the roof. I begin to fuck the moment I stop pissing. I am pretty sure this will be the breeding moment. I try to keep it slow for a bit, but I just can’t. I pile drive into his ass. He can see it in my twisted face. He begins to vocally egg me on to cum.

“Breed me.”

My cockhead expands.

“C’mon.”

I can feel it surging out of my balls.

“Do it!”

His ass constricts. I shoot with a terrific grunt and collapse on to him.

When I can talk, I pull out carefully. A private Niagara of cum and piss falls to the tarp below the sling. As I reach for a towel on the dresser, I ask if he wants to get off . I hand it to him and see that he shot, never having gotten hard. I peel off the sopping jock and hang it on the sling stand. I towel him dry. I love that moment--the wipe down of all the areas I’ve just been abusing. I ask if he wants to shower.  No, he’d like to take it all home…

He is dressed and gone in no time. I go back upstairs. As I start to collect the towels, I notice the jock is no longer on the stand. I do a quick search--but I know where it is. I’m hoping that at some point tonight or tomorrow  it will be pressed to his face while stroking, as he relives each moment.