CLAW--Day Four-- "Please, Sir."

Cleveland--April, 2012


On the last day of CLAW, I was hoping to sleep late, (since I shot my load at something like 4:00 am) but I had agreed to have a Bon Voyage coffee with Jayson.  I’m glad I did.  It only confirmed what I’d guessed, that he is a really nice guy.  Intelligence is sexy.  And he’s smart, not just another hot piece of ass.  I’m proud to now call him a friend—not just a hot fuck bud.  And I get to post one more picture of him....

I think I went home and napped—even with that large coffee in my system.  I know I wrote a blog entry in the early afternoon and I was ready to play again by the early evening.  Almost everyone had taken off.  The hotel was thinning fast.  The online sites were dead.  I chatted with a couple of the guys from the gangbang—and eventually the youngest top, the one both Jayson and I had fucked, came over to share his cute, furry butt with Mark and me.  It started well, and then became one of those nightmares where he couldn’t stay clean.  After the third rinse and it was still not happening , we quickly decided to call it a day.

But Mark and I were horned.  No one was looking like they’d follow through online.  So off we went to the bathhouse.  We knew Sunday nights could be dead—but we thought we were getting there in time before everyone would be taking off.  Wrong.  The place is huge—so it felt even more deserted.  Very few men were roaming the shadowy halls.  The sling room was perpetually empty.  I sat in the video room.  I briefly fucked a man my age—he came rapidly and joined the retreat of men from Flex.   

Soon, another man came around the corner.  This was the older gentleman I wrote about late last year, who licked my boots and serviced my feet.  I let him loving lick the leather again.  He untied the laces with his teeth and all but deep throated my left foot.  He got off—stroking himself discreetly as he bathed my toes in his mouth.

I walked the lifeless corridors.

A guy gave me some head.

A fuck was abandoned when the bottom felt the girth of my cock.

And back to the video room.

He’s back.  The older gentleman has not hit the road after he shot.  I am sitting on the third of four tiers of carpeted benches in the porn room.  He looks at me from the far corner.  I hold his gaze.  He ventures nearer, clutching his towel around himself.  He is aiming for my right foot this time.  I am all but naked, just jock and boots, sitting on my towel.  My jock is pulled to one side.  I’m erect and stroking.  He touches my boot.  Then surprises me by tentatively touching my balls.    I let him softly stroke them.  His touch is almost too soft.  Feathery.  More of a tickle.

“Lick them.”  My voice is soft, but it sounds loud in the stillness.

He gathers some courage, and kneeling on the tier below mine, begins to lick them.

“Harder.”  His tongue is mimicking his much too light finger caress. 

He applies more pressure.  I grunt my approval.  I like the feel of him now.  I move right to the edge of the bench for easier access for him.  He takes each ball into his mouth.  It’s a thorough tongue bath.  He sucks, pulling them deep into his mouth.  Now he’s lifting my balls, lapping lower and lower.

“Work your tongue between my cockring and my balls.”  He does.  It makes him grunt.  He's really working now.  I am stroking.  He  moves lower.  His tongue flicks across my hole.  I give a sharp intake of breath.  He looks up at me.  His eyes are pleading.  He literally begins to whimper.

"Eat my hole, pig."  He begins to rim in earnest.  I lean back and let him go at it.  He is doing it noisily, grunting and snuffling.  I like it, but I'm not in a very comfortable position, with my legs having no support.

 I stand.  "Come here."  There is a bench against the wall, off to the side of the movie screen.  I lead him there, pulling it out from the wall.  "Lie down."  He starts to present his ass.  "Face up," I bark.  He switches around so his head is at the end of the bench.  I straddle the end.

"I'm going to sit on your face."  He is whimpering again. "You want that?"

No words come out.  He just nods his head.  I start to sit.  Slowly.  I stop half way there and then stand back up.

"You really want my ass in your face?"

This time he musters a weak, "Please, Sir."

I sit on his open mouth.  His tongue goes deep.  "Eat me out, " I grunt.  He repeatedly stabs it into my hole.  I grind my ass onto his face.

A twenty-something appears in the door.  He sees what's happening and flees.

I stand up and hold it for a moment--so he can look up at my jockstrap framed ass.  I sit down, firmly on his open mouth.  "Eat it."

He is grunting and panting as he works on my ass.  I am stroking, enjoying his tongue.  I grind down again--blocking off his air.   I let him wonder for just a second--then rise enough for him to gasp air into lungs.  I swing around and stroke out my load.

My jizz lands in his open, gasping mouth.  Across his forehead.  On the bridge of his nose.  Just above his right eye.  And one final spurt into his mouth.  He swallows hungrily.

"Good pig."  I stride off to the shower, leaving him mopping his face with his fingers and bringing them to his mouth....

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I drive home the next day.  I don't want to go home yet.  I stop in Toledo and suck some cock...then get back in the car and reluctantly admit CLAW is over for another year....