Cleveland--April, 2012
The
hotel restaurant is so full of leather men dawdling over steam-tabled eggs and
bacon, Mark and I go down the street to a small restaurant. They are just as packed. The upscale diner is
awash in a sea of hide. The private
dining room at the back is filled to capacity with men flagging red. It’s a
good thing we are in no hurry to wake up and start our day, for we sit there
forever. But the food is good. The company better. The waiter cute. And nervous.
After
breakfast I tour the Vendor Mart. I have
no pressing need for anything. Mark goes
off on his own, so I go back to the room and see about getting some late
afternoon ass. As soon as I’m online, I’m
hit up by a handsome cub I’ve spoken with the night before. He asks about the gangbang—then asks if I’d
like to seed his ass. I would. His Master has given him permission to
play. He does a quick check of his clean
out, hops the shuttle from the other hotel and is soon knocking on my door.
He is just as handsome in the flesh. His ebony skin glistens in the slanting
afternoon light coming through the window.
I haven’t pulled the shades. I’m
on the third floor, looking out over the parking lot and the smoking tent. We occasionally have men stare up and watch
us throughout the afternoon.
We kiss. He has just
the right amount of force--and give and take.
I’m in a used jock and boots. He
strips out of his jeans, leaving on his well worn leather vest over his barrel
chest. I sit in the big overstuffed
chair. He crawls to me and nestles his
face in my crotch. He inhales the
fragrance of the jock. And of me. My cock is growing hard from his hot
breath. He takes it out, kissing the
head and slowly, relentlessly takes it all the way down his throat. He’s excellent. He knows just how to suck, how to kiss me
when he gets some precum. No coaching
for him.
He’s a scent pig, too.
I clasp my hands behind my head.
He cleans my pits: my left, to my
mouth, my right, to my mouth. He’s
making me sweat in the warm room. I kiss
him again, and tell him to get on the bed on all fours.
“I’m tight, Daddy.”
He is. I can feel
how tightly closed he is with my tongue.
I drill into his pucker. Then
work up and down his entire ass crack.
Then back to the hole. I work him
open. Add an index finger to the first
knuckle. Then back to tongue. I can’t stop licking his crack full of
tightly curled hair.
I lube as I lick.
My cock is so ready to go into him.
I stand. He takes it to the hilt
with little or no effort.
“Ohh, Daddy!”
I fuck. He is
moist. Tight. Clingy.
All the things I love. And no
lazy bottom. He tightens and relaxes his
inner muscles. I finally pull out.
“Come here,” I instruct.
I move under the rimseat, resting on one elbow to take a
huge hit of poppers.
“Here,” he offers.
“Mine are brand new.”
They are. I lie
back, his black ass shuts out all light.
His ass is so full I have little room to maneuver. I’m trapped in one place—my tongue deep in
his well fucked butt.
He sighs.
I moan.
He squirms.
I lick and swallow and spit on his hole.
All while we both are rushing off the Jungle Juice
Platinum.
When I have no more air, I tap him on both thighs. He gets up and helps me stand too.
It’s sling time.
His feet can find the stirrups with no help. He’s situated fast and ready. His full ass is spread, the wetness of the
crack look particularly obscene in the dwindling sun.
I push into him with ease. We fuck hard and fast.
“I wish my Master could see this.”
“Call him,” I grunt.
He decides not to.
I fuck until I have to hang onto the over head sling frame bars for
support.
“Let me eat you, Sir.”
“You want this cock?”
“Yes, Sir. But I
want to lick your ass.”
I love to have my ass eaten—and for what ever reason
many, many bottoms won’t do it. We
change places in the sling. He helps me
get my boots in the stirrups. He
kneels. Our eyes meet. We popper up at the same time, never taking
our eyes off each other. Than his tongue
snakes out.
I moan. Loud. Poppers make me verbal. I tell him everything his tongue is making me
feel. How thick it is. How wet. How fucking deep it is in my all but virgin
ass. It makes him go deeper. I start a string of obscenities—loud, and
sometimes incoherent. Then he does
it. He stands and, with no instruction,
leans across my torso to kiss me. I love
the taste of my ass on his tongue. He is
fucking my mouth with it.
I have to fuck. I’m
up and out of the sling. I bend him over
the bed with his feet still on the floor.
I slip up him. I’m thinking I’ll
shoot. He’s totally with me. Clamping and squeezing.
“Don’t shoot, Daddy.
I want you on the rimseat.” We
reverse our positions on it. The next
ten minutes are a blur of poppers and tongue in my hole. And more dirty talk.
Finally he taps my thighs. I rise.
“I have to meet my Master. But I can come back once he knows where I am.”
“Sure.” But I’m pretty sure he won’t be back.
“Twenty minutes at the most,” he assures me. We kiss and he’s gone.
It’s more like 40 when I hear someone at the door. It’s Mark.
I tell him a little about the boy.
Almost instantly there’s a tap. He’s back.
With his Master in tow. A short
man in full gear.
“Daddy wants a vid of me getting fucked,” the boy says as
he removes his jeans. “Is that okay?”
Mark sits in the overstuffed chair, opening his jeans to
stroke. I’m hard just thinking about it.
His Master grins at me and gets out his phone. The cub is in the sling. I slap my cock on his nuts. I hear the camera whir. I enter.
I fuck him slow and long.
I lean in to kiss the boy. His Master crawls between my legs and films
me plowing his boy.
“Come for him.”
I’m close. I love
showing off. I let the Master scramble
up and get a top shot of me pounding this full, black ass.
Then I’m over the edge.
I grunt. I slam it home and fill
his ass with my hot cum. I slow. I pull out slowly—the camera lingers on the
creamy ring around his hole. It follows
me up to the boy’s mouth where he cleans me, grunting and pounding his own
meat.
“Got it.” It’s the
Master. “Let’s go.”
And they do.