A Thanksgiving Journey

Nashville--November, 2011

I spent Thanksgiving at a Waffle House. That was not a bad thing. After dinner, the hook up sites were a little slow with the holiday. A ginger haired cub though, wanted too get a chance to do some kink play he rarely gets to do in this city. I set up the sling and rimseat. He arrived exactly at the agreed on time, looked hotter than his pictures and was kissing me as soon as we were inside the door…　

I pull out of the kiss. He’s perfect for what I need tonight. Furry, a few extra pounds, and he looks great in his leather harness and white, but stained jock. Combat boots complete his ensemble. I’ve pulled out the chaps, harness and boots myself. He is looking as hungrily at me as I him. We kiss again. Long. Forceful. I put a hand on his shoulder. He kneels and begins inhaling the scent from my jock. The yellow one he’d asked me to wear.

“Damn, it smells hot.”

“I don’t think I’ve worn it since the piss party.”

He’s busy nuzzling my balls. He pulls them out and licks them. My cock grows, pushing against the fabric.

“You are fuckin’ big.”

I don’t answer, just pull the jock back and stick my cock in his mouth. He moans and takes me to the root. Easily. With the perfect amount of suction and tongue. He stays down in place. Then comes up for air. He’s back down. I hold his head there for a moment--just a couple of seconds longer than he expects. He comes up gasping for air. And loves it. We repeat. And again. I kneel in front of him and kiss him, swirling my tongue through the large amount of spit and precum in his mouth. I take most of it into mine. And spit it into his open mouth. He loves that, too. Our eyes connect. We both know this is going to be a good match up.
Soon I taste his cock, collect the precum. I push him onto the bed and push it into his hole. He tastes great. I rim happily with him on all fours.

“Rim seat?”

I nod and get under it. His hole opens up and the precum and spit I’ve gotten up there rolls out. I force it back in. He huffs poppers. I eat his hole hungrily. It widens more.

“Please, Sir. May I eat your ass?”

We change places. I can’t remember when I have felt as talented a tongue on my ass. He’s all over it. The cheeks, the crack, the hole. And he goes deep. He is moaning. And telling me I taste wonderful. I sit back, reminding myself I don’t always have to be in charge--be the active participant. I let him go on and on. Telling him how good he makes me feel.

Soon, though, I rise. I pull him up. We kiss. Hungry to taste each other’s asses on our tongues. I get him into the sling. My cock slaps against his hole.

“Fuck me, Daddy.”

But I don’t, I just tease his hole with the head of my cock. I work it in. I smear precum on his hole. I push that in with my index finger not my cock. I pull it out of his ass and make him lick it. He gets harder, if that’s possible. My cock is right in line with his hole. And I piss. Just a quick spurt.

“Damn!”

I do it again. And lick it off. I hold it in my mouth, rise, pull down his chin and spit it in his mouth.

“Feed me piss.”

I do, but not how he expects. I move around to the side of the sling. He opens his mouth expectantly. I piss on his right armpit. I lean over, guzzle the sweet, salty mix off him. And spit it in his mouth. Again. And spit. I move around to the other side and coat the other pit. This is making him pre-cum like the cliched faucet. I scoop some of that up, taste it, swirl it in my mouth and spit that into his mouth, too. Finally I give him what he wants and empty the rest of my bladder down his throat. The arc of piss looks as hot as it tastes. He gasps and swallows. And only when I’ve shaken the last drop on his chest do I go around and push my cock up his hole.

“Take it, boy.”

“Yes, Sir,” he moans, “Yes, SIR!” as I hit home.

His ass is hot and clingy. I fuck slowly. Soon I’m standing still and pulling the sling to me.

“Are you gonna piss my ass, Daddy? Please, Daddy. Let me taste my hole, first.”

I slowly come to a halt, pull out and bring my cock to his face. He lovingly cleans it off. The sounds of pleasure he makes get me even harder. I slip back into his ass.

“Fuck my mancunt.”

I do. Hard and fast. I’m driving into him with fury I didn’t know I had in me. He babbles more. Telling me how good it feels, how I can do anything to him.

Eventually I slow and stop. I catch my breath. Kneel to taste what I’ve done to his hole.

And I’ve gone too deep. I send him to the shower. I recline in the sling, watching the Dick Wadd video until he returns. I start to get up, and he pushes me right back in place, and hooks my ankles into the stirrups. He kneels. His tongue snakes out. He tosses me poppers and I depart to some other planet as he rims me again. This boy is talented. I stroke. And stroke. I’m actually close to cumming. He rises up. He licks the precum off my dick and trots around to the side of the sling to kiss me. Jesus, it’s good. The mingling of tastes with the kiss is incredible.

We change places. I fuck. I know I’m going to felch this load for him. He wants it so much. His ass is feeling great. Slick, tight, ready for my cum.

“Breed me.”

I slow, stoop to rim--and disaster. His last clean out triggered more of the same.

We pause. He’s gone a long time.

He slowly comes into the room.

“I can’t keep clean. We better stop.”

We hug. He tries to just blow me. No luck. Something in the air is gone.

I hug him again--telling him how I really am about the journey not the destination. I say it convincingly.

Almost.

And I really do believe that hackneyed phrase.

But God, I wanted to whitewash that boy’s insides.