The Cum Hound Gets a Treat.

Detroit--March 2012

He wanted to meet in a sleazy motel.  It’s such a classy place that it truly posts an hourly rate on it’s marquee.  I’d agreed.  I could time it with a visit to my family on that side of the state.  In these pages, I’ve called him the Cum Hound, though I have only written about the time he cancelled on me after I’d made a cum harvest at the local bookstore.  Surprisingly, we had agreed to meet with no extra guys coming to seed him--as we usually played.  And I wasn’t bringing the remains of the frozen cum loads in the freezer--they’d never travel with the hot March temperatures.  But just before I left for the city, one of the guys who had often played with us in the past spoke to me on online.  I suggested he join us to shoot off a quick load.  He agreed and I jumped in the car…


I am running late.  Something I can’t abide.  But I found the motel, one in a long strip of low rate, short term establishments on the west side of the city proper.  I knock.  Cum Hound lets me in.  There’s enough furniture in this cramped motel room, I can’t set up the sling.  I just bring in my bag of toys and the rimseat.  He has straight porn playing off of the in-house cable--huge Black men ravishing petite women of all different races.  The latest TIM video is playing on his computer.  I do a quick set up.  Cum Hound is mid 40’s, tall, hairy, and partnered, but is allowed to play to get the things he can’t get at home.  I look at him.  He’s looking anxious.

“Rough.  That’s what you want, right?”

He nods.  “Just do anything you want to me, Sir.”

I give him a slightly crooked smile.  “You know me.  I don’t use force.  You’ll want to do what I tell you.”

He nods.

“Down.”  I point to the spot in front of me.  “Get me hard.”

I’ve stripped off my jeans, but put my boots back on.  My jock is rank.  So rank even I could barely stand it as I visited with my Dad earlier.

Cum Hound is on his knees, his face buried in the pouch.  He sighs as if I’ve just served him the most succulent supper.  His tongue is out and washing over my jock.

“Get it good and wet.  Lick my cock through the fabric.”

He is doing just that.  “Does Sir like my mouth?”

“Just lick my cock.”  I push him away from my pouch.  “Did I tell you to get my cock out yet?”

He shakes his head no.

“What?”  I ask.

“No, Sir.”

I pull him back into it.  My cock is getting very hard--stretching the fabric into grotesque shapes.  Finally I relent and let him get my cock out.  It springs free.  He takes me to the root. He gurgles happily as my cock stays deep in his throat and I press on the back of his head.

And hold it.

And hold it even more.

And at the last minute I let him come up for air.  He gasps.  And looks pleased, proud and hungry all at the same time.  I catch the long strands of spittle and smear them on his face.

“Now.”  I reach down and lift the seat of the rim chair.  “Under.”  He goes with out comment.   I let him take a hit of poppers before I put down the seat and straddle the chair.  “Eat my hole, boy.”  I sit.  Slowly.  I know just what he’s seeing.  My thin, hairy ass getting closer and closer.  I hear a small grunt of pleasure.  Then I settle down on the seat.  “Eat me.”  His tongue is all over my hole.  It’s my turn to take a hit.  Jungle Juice Platinum makes me very verbal.  I tell him what I want, how to do it, to go deeper, to be one of the few fags allowed to eat my ass.  This makes him moan and his lifeless cock drool.  He’s good at this.  I revel in something I rarely get from my boys.

But soon I need to fuck.  I haul him up, and push him to all fours on the bed.  A stinging smack with my left hand, a thwack of my hard cock on his crack.  I spit on his hole.  And enter.  Just as rough as he’s described in email after email.

“Fuck me, Sir.  Make that hole yours.”

I fuck until the sound of my hips on his upturned ass fill the room.  He is rasping for breath.  I pull out.  He’s dirty.  I bend and whisper the news in soft measured tones--telling him to go clean his hole properly.  He can’t stop apologizing, waits for me to finish at the chipped sink, then shuts the bathroom door.

There’s a knock at the front door.  I open it and get my f-bud in quietly.  I whisper to him I don’t want him to ever speak.  And to just follow my lead.  I cross to the bathroom and tell Cum Hound he is knock before he enters back into the room.

He cleans a long time.  I get some expert head.  And give some.  Eventually he knocks.  I grab my leather blindfold, walk into the bathroom and secure it.  I lead him out and get him back on all fours on the bed.

“I brought you a present.”  I motion my friend to stick his dick in his mouth.  “Suck my married friend’s cock. He’s wanted to try man sex.”  I stick my cock back up Cum Hound’s ass as he takes the huge helmet head of my friend‘s cock.  Cum Hound is in ecstasy.  I am pumping hard--forcing him to swallow more cock.  “Get it good and wet, it’s going in your ass.”  Cum Hound slobbers obediently.  “Do you want a condom--with a wife and all?”  I ask my friend--who is neither married nor has he used a condom in the last 10 years.  He grunts a no.  I lean across the back of Cum Hound and whisper in his ear.  “He’s gonna fuck you raw.”  I pull out and my friend moves around.  We get Cum Hound down a little lower.  My pal slides into him.  “How do you like the feel of man ass?  Good, right?”  I bring my cock to Cum Hound’s mouth.  “Open.  Clean your ass juice off me.”

Cum Hound can’t believe his good fortune.  I’m in his mouth, fresh from his ass and this supposedly straight man is pumping his guts.  My friend and I lean across Cum Hound and kiss.  He never knows.

But he’s dirty again.  In some frustration  I stick my cock in his dirty ass and piss.  “Hold it.”  The two tops wash--then I carefully guide Cum Hound back to the bathroom.  I remove the blindfold and tell him to knock when he’s ready.

I fuck my friend as we wait for Cum Hound.

Soon he’s ready.  I have arrived with some ankle restraints tied to either side of an 18” pipe.  I buckle the homemade spreader bar to the blindfolded Cum Hound’s ankles.  He’s on his back.  I can raise both his legs with one hand.  I slip back into his freshly cleaned hole.  “Sit on his face--I’m sure he’d like to eat straight ass.”  My f-bud does that, sealing his cheeks over Cum Hound’s face.  This is good.  It’s a totally hot fucking sight to see.

Soon we reverse.  My friend fucks as I sit on Cum Hound’s face and hold the spreader bar for him.

Then we reverse again.  I fuck Cum Hound hard.  Then get one more idea.  I gesture for my pal to stay seated on his face.  I let Cum Hound’s legs relax.

“Stay there.”  Cum Hound doesn’t move; he even  stops licking hole.  I come around and clamber up on the bed.  I push into my f-bud’s dripping, wet hole inches above Cum Hound mouth.  “He wants to try my cock.  Lick it as it goes up his ass.”

Cum Hound all but shoots right there.  His tongue is all over the underside of my cock as I plow into my friend.  Soon I’m close.  I get up and slip back into Cum Hound. “Take my load.  Fuckin’ take my load.”

And he does.  Noisily.  As noisily as I cum.

I ask if my friend wants to fuck in my load--and give him one.  He grunts something that sounds negative.  And tells me, after I’ve gotten Cum Hound to the bathroom and locked away, that he has another trick to go fuck.  I thank him and get him out the door before I let Cum Hound out of the bathroom.

“Sir, that was so hot.  Are you ever going to tell me who he was?”

I simply shake my head “no.”