Everything is Dirtier in the South

Nashville--December, 2011

I took a few days off after the group that went to hell. Work necessitated it, but I just didn’t feel the need to play. But by the first of December, I was more than ready. It had to be in the afternoon, which cut down options. (All those Vandy boys were in class.) Than a guy popped up on my screen who had written me on one of my first days in the city. His photo showed a guy about my age, decent shape, with dark hair, and a face aged beyond it’s years with the Southern sun. And a t-shirt that caught my eye. It read “Everything is Dirtier in the South.” So I asked Stewart if it was true. He countered by asking what I considered dirty. I listed my usual obsessions. He was all for them. I got in my car and drove across town.

Dogs are barking. Big dogs. The door is between us. A cute man is holding two German Shepherds by the collar as Stewart lets me in. Stewart point upstairs. I go up the stairs of the condo. It’s fairly new, but seems to be filled to overflowing with family antiques. Everywhere. I’m afraid to put my bottle of water down on the dresser. I finally find a small plate to keep it off the aged wood. He’s stripping down on the far side of the bed. His body is every bit as good as in his pictures, and frankly, right now, it wouldn’t matter. All I want to do is do what he asked for in his last email. To use him hard. And leave him wet. I strip completely, but for my athletic socks. And jock.

“Come here.” I point to the floor in front of me. He’s there. Fast. His mouth is on my pouch. “Get me hard.” He pulls my cock out and slides it into his mouth. It hardens down his throat. He goes from tonguing the underside to all but choking. I pull out, give him a chance to recover and start fucking his face. A hold-by-the-ears-and-oval-your- damn-mouth face fuck. His cock becomes instantly erect. I quickly sense how deep I can go, and occasionally thrust it a little farther. After one particularly deep one I wonder if he’s going to lose it. But he just gurgles for a moment, then says, “Damn!”

I tell him to get up on all fours on his bed. I eat his hole for just a moment. I’m in no mood to commune with his pucker. I stand and slip my cock in.

“Jesus Fuck.”

But he adjusts fast. He is thrusting back to meet every stroke. His hole is nice. He’s a great self luber. I ask if he has a load up there, but he swears he doesn’t, it’s all him. I glide all the way home. Soon, I flip him on to his back. I lick his hole. He tastes great. I slide in easily now. And deeper. He grunts. I hold still. Just clenching my ass cheeks to make my already full cockhead swell up in size.

“You feel the cock head, boy? It’s gonna cream you good.”

I start slowly and begin a long slow fuck. He begs me to fuck harder. I increase the speed. The ancient bed is creaking. His Grandmother’s hairset on the bureau next to the bed, begins to shake and rattle, with the fuck strokes. He thinks I must be close to cumming. But he doesn’t know me. I stop. I start slow again. And build the thrusts, so it's all bed creaks, ball slapping and knick-knacks jiggling.

I pull out. And sigh. I send him to the adjoining shower to clean up a little.

He’s back fast. He start to get up on the bed, but I get off and lead him back into the bathroom.

“Bend over.” Stewart’s hands are on the edge of the faux marble vanity, bent over, ass in the air. I pull his towel off the shower bar and toss it between his legs. And piss on his ass crack. He exhales swiftly. I fall to my knees and clean it off his ass crack with my tongue. And spit it on his back. I do another spurt. Lick and this time spit it on his hole.

“Are you…”

“Am I what?” I ask, standing up.

He never says. For I am in him. And pissing. And fucking. The temperature of his ass climbs higher. It excites both of us.

“No one pisses me hard. Fuck me!“ I fuck harder. The sloshing sound is extremely pronounced and rhythmic. As it starts to cool, I slow and tell him to expel it, and I rinse off my cock.

Back in the bedroom, I fuck him bent over, clutching the quilt on the bed.

I fuck him lying flat on his stomach. But I can’t get deep enough to please me.

I lie down and let him straddle me. This works well. And his ass has re-lubed since the piss. Once again we set the room shaking. To the point the dogs are at the door. I hear the cute boy start up the stairs for them. I time saying “Take my big cock, man,” just as he must be at the door, pulling them away. It’d be fine with me if he joined us….

I realize, it’s been over an hour and I need to get to work. I’ll only cum if I’m in charge of the thrusting. He gets off me. I have him bend over again, feet on the floor, his face in the damp quilt we were just on. I enter him fast. Yeah, this should do it. I fuck, lick, fuck, lick. Each time I go a little deeper with my cock. Soon I’m panting.

“You want my cum?”

“Yeah.”

“Where? Tell me where…”

“In my ass, man. Deep as you can.”

I unload. It’s a four day load. It gushes out and around my cock as I keep fucking. I am letting the boy downstairs know I just got off. I’m loud. And don’t care. Stewart reaches under him with his left hand and swipes some of the cum, churned and dripping, from his butt. It goes to his mouth, and he heaves a deep sigh.

We are dressing. I ask how we hadn’t met before….that he looks familiar--did he attend an orgy I went to two years ago down here? I name the place.

He say no….he’s sure he’d remember my cock.

But your rommate, I say, looks familiar, too.

Well, he should, he says. You were his birthday present from his Boy Friend last year.

Oh, yeah…small world.