Moments (of Sex) In the Woods

Nashville—October/November, 2012

I have always loved this huge park in the Nashville area.  It happens to be very close to where I stay.  I read, listen to NPR, do my homework and once wrote a blog post while getting back to nature.  And it’s cruisy.  Well, kind of.  Last year, it was jumping when I arrived and then went very dead.  This year, with less rangers around, it was cruisier.  But the weather worked against me.  It was cold.  But a dedicated sex hound will always find something…

One:

I am as far away from the main road as I can get.  I am standing in the mostly denuded woods down by the river.  The water level is low from the drought.  Through the trees, I can just make out a dark car parking across from mine.  A middle aged man steps out.  Baggy jeans and windbreaker with running shoes—the alibi for his wife back home.  He looks around.  No one else is here.  He heads in my direction.  I hear him on the leaves, cracking twigs as he picks his way into the underbrush.  He sees my blue jacket—I can hear him stop and stare.  I stand facing away from him, making a pretense of checking how much creek bed has been revealed.  He moves a little nearer to me.  I turn and do the nod thing—one nature lover to another acknowledging the other’s presence. I turn back to the water.  He moves slightly away from me.   But I can still hear his zipper.  And then the sound of piss landing on the fallen tree trunk.

But funny, he never zips up.  I turn and walk towards him, looking like I’m headed to the path to get to my car.  He turns at just the right moment, and shows me a fat, fat cock with a generous overhang of foreskin, even when hard. 

I smile. 

He looks worried.  He says just one word:  “Please?”

I move towards him and fall to my knees…

Two:

 

I am sitting in my car at the top of a hill near the remains of a dilapidated picnic shelter, ignoring the work I should be doing and listen to “Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me.”  A Mercedes comes up the hill.  The driver is surprisingly young for the car.  I can make out longish blond hair, and sharp good looks behind the wheel.  He takes one look at me, turns the car laboriously around, and heads right back down the hill.

I listen to the radio, closing my eyes.

Sounds of tires on the gravel.  I open my lids just enough to see the Mercedes return.  Once again, he looks at me, turns around and goes back down the hill.

I close my eyes tightly.

He returns.  This time he parks right behind me.  I wait for him to walk into the woods.  I am not going to make the first move.  Not today.  It’s cold.  But nothing.

I look in the rearview mirror.  He seems to be reading.  I wait.  Then a little longer.

Finally, I grab an old magazine, saved for just such a trip.  I get out of my Focus, walking to the trash can with it, having to pass his car on the way.  He’s kept his shirt on, but the rest of him is naked.  Hard and dripping.  Flogging his meat to an ancient copy of Torso.  His head is turned away from me, but he must know I’m right there.

My cock struggles to stand up, losing the battle with the denim, but making an obscene bulge.  He turns.  His eyes are right on my meat.  They glance up at my face.  Then back down at the packed denim.  The window glides down.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“Nice.”

“You, too.”

“Show it to me.”  It takes no time for me to open my fly and let my full size flop out.  “Come here.”

I move to the open window.  His mouth swallows every inch…

 

Three:

I am in the rest room.  It’s a two urinal, one seat affair.  Still open on this cold first day of November.  It’s getting dark now at 5pm.  It’s 4:45pm now.  The sun is all but gone, and with it the dog walkers and the lone runner. 

I truly have to piss---the tea I was drinking as I read, has gone straight through me.  I am just unbuttoning my fly as I hear a car on gravel.  On the road or this lot?

 I wait. 

The lot.  Engine cuts.  Car door shuts.  Footsteps on gravel, on the sidewalk.  A dark shape turns the corner.  My piss starts--splashing noisily as I aim it directly down the drain.  I can see a tall, broad shouldered man move into the urinal to my right. He unzips, but there’s no piss.  I finish up, but don’t move.

We both stand.  No sound at all.  Neither wanting to make the first move.  Then I hear it.  His hand moving over his cock.  It must be slick, since I can hear it distinctly.  At the same time we both step back from our urinal and turn towards each other.

“I hope to hell you are a cock sucker.”

I nod. 

It’s dark enough now I can’t really see his cock.

I kneel.  The aroma from his open fly is heady.  I move in.  His penis is thin and long.  I get it into my mouth---and he explodes.  My throat is coated with a hot, sweet load.  He grabs the cinder block partition and mutters his thanks in the last of the autumn light.

Ringleader

On the Road in Kentucky—October, 2012

I am up early the next morning, even after my night of sex at the bookstore in Louisville.  After breakfast, I was on the road early, wanting to get to Nashville before lunch—just a three hour journey—no problem.  An hour into the trip, all the southbound lanes slowed.  Then we stopped.  After 30 minutes of a full stop, we inched forward for about two miles and then stopped again.

I turned off the engine.

We sat for over an hour.

Then we began inching forward.  Just for another mile or so.  I noticed I was within a mile of the exit where the only adult bookstore in middle Kentucky is located.  I inched forward.  And sat some more.  An hour later I took the exit.  The surface streets were jammed as everyone tried to take the old state routes south.  I turned the other way, ate a tremendously greasy chicken breast at a gas station (the only food at the exit) and headed for the bookstore.  It has the most expensive entry I’ve ever encountered, but I would rather cruise for several hours than sit stock still in my car.  The parking lot was jammed with cars and tons of semis.  Obviously I was not the only one with that idea…

I am buzzed in.  The set up is nice.  One large room has straight videos playing on a large screen television.  The seating is a sea of love seats.  Around a corner is a slightly smaller room with another large screen television showing all male movies.  Love seats are scattered haphazardly around this room as well.  Down a twisting corridor is the arcade—maybe 14 booths, most with gloryholes.

There are easily 25 guys in the place.  Likely more, since we are so spread out.  And no one is playing.  Not a single cock out and jacking, much less a blow job.  I cruise the arcade.  No one lingers in a booth long enough to start anything.

I go back to the gay theatre.  I take the bull by the testicles, so to speak, and open my fly.  It’s a boring movie, but I get hard and stroke.

 Suddenly, everyone is in the room. 

Looking. Just looking.  And groping themselves.

I make a show of playing with my cock head.  I thumb my piss slit and bring it up to my mouth.

The guys are a mixed bag of hot rednecks, out of shape older guys, and a few young guys who would rather smoke than have sex.  Finally a man, who looks a little like James Mason in Lolita, inches over.  He sits next to me, right on the edge of my loveseat.  “I want that,” he whispers is a deeper southern drawl than I somehow expected.  He reaches out a tentative hand.  He strokes it.  His hand is so soft, his grip so loose, I can barely feel it.

“Suck it,” I tell him.  He gasps, lets go as if I’d burned his hand and flounces out.

Suddenly, things heat up.  In the far corner a young Hispanic has knelt to suck one of the Daddies.  He’s doing a fine job.  He has pulled his pants all the way down to expose his hairy, brown ass as he leans forward to suck.  I almost get there in time, but I’m beaten out by a hot trucker.  “Come on.”  He pulls the Hispanic up.  “You want to get fucked?” 

The young man nods.  “You got condoms?” he asks.

“I’m married.  We don’t need them.”  He shows his wedding ring to the young man, as if it were the answer to everything.  The young man starts to say something, but the trucker hustles him away into the darkness of the arcade.  I never see the young one again.

I get some head in the privacy of a booth. 

Then get some out in public.

I talk to a trucker and learn that a truck has exploded about 5 miles farther south.

Suddenly the truck driver top is back.  He sees me.  “You have a big cock.”

I nod.

“Let me taste that.”

In the middle of the gay area he kneels.  I undo my pants and let him suck.  We are ringed by onlookers.  “Nice,” he grunts.  He takes me down his throat.  He’s actually better than I expect.

“Damn, that makes me want to get fucked.”  He stands up and bends over the back of a love seat.  “Stick it in raw, man.  I’m married so I’m safe.”  I sigh….but I do it.  The response is electric.  We spark at least three groups of men into play.  Any direction I turn as I plow into him, I can see sex happening. 

Finally.

 Hours later I hit the road and sail into Nashville.  Ten hours late.

Bookstore Fuck and Suck

Louisville—October, 2012

Every year, my job takes me to Nashville for a few weeks.  I left a day early, right at the end of the month.  I really wanted to bed (well, perhaps I should say, sling) the man who was the first entry in this blog—so I made sure that I would overnight in Louisville.  He proved to be unavailable, so after I got into my motel, I got online.  There was next to no one cruising.  I changed into old clothes and went to the great bookstore in the area—ready for anything—and got a little of almost everything a bookstore can offer…

It’s Friday.  Both theatres are open.  I get the combo pass—I can go back and forth between the gay and straight theatres.  The door buzzes to admit me into the straight one.  I hear a woman’s high pitched moan.  The screen is ablaze with James Deen thrusting balls deep into a slim blonde, while he throws her around like the proverbial rag doll.  There has been work done to this room since I was last here.  Chairs look repaired and there is now a convenient shelf to sit along the back wall.  There is one man in the back row of the seats.  He is kneading his crotch through the fabric of his pants.  Another man slouches against the side wall, staring at the screen.  I sit on the new shelf, right in the center, so the man in the back row can turn and see me undo my jeans.  I take out my growing cock.  The man on the side wall takes off.  The sight of my hardening cock emboldens the man.  He looks to be slightly younger than I, trim, and with a large mound in his khakis.   He unzips.  Now his hand is on striped underwear.

The door buzzes.  He covers himself.  I get harder and stroke deliberately.  The guy who walks in, I recognize from my last trip there: a hungry cock sucker I’d turned the tables on.  He’s a little older than I, with a pronounced nose and olive colored skin. I notice he is graying around the temples.  When he sees me he removes his jacket, sits down beside me and, pulls his track pants down.  His curved cock is rampant.  He also hoists his tee shirt up, hooking the bottom of it around the back of his head, revealing a mass of dark curly hair and stand up nipples.

And he’s down on my cock.  Instantly to the root.  An oral master.  He moves off the bench and kneels in front of me.  He wants a better angle.  I let him suck for a bit, then stand up and fuck his face.  This makes the man in the back row get up and move closer to us.  He’s now stroking his cock through the fabric of his striped underwear.  Eventually I pull my cocksucker up.  I kneel and give him a little head in return.  Before I can really get going, he bends over so I can’t keep on his cock.  I know what he’s doing.  He has the other guy’s cock deep in his mouth.  I squirm out from between them.  The man who was hiding his cock has a monster.  The sucker is taking him as deep as he can work down on it.  Finally he stops and says, “You try.”

I kneel again.  I take the monster cock in my mouth.  I think I get about half of it down my throat.  I need air.  I pull back up.  The sucker bends over and takes it in his mouth.  I go for the balls which are retracting on the monster.  He grunts and shoots the first few jets of cum into the sucker’s mouth—then pulls away.  “Don’t waste it,” I bark, but it’s too late, he empties the rest on the floor.  The sucker turns my head to him and gives me a cummy kiss…

Monster cock pulls himself together and leaves.  The sucker settles on the bench, playing with his nipples.  He must need to leave, too—it’s his signal he wants to cum.  I settle between his legs and take his slightly hooked cock easily down my throat.  In no time at all he is blasting a load into my gullet.  He kisses me and exits…..

All in the first 25 minutes…..

I go over to the gay side.  There is a new build out there too.  Behind the seats is a wall that is about chest high….perfect to stand at and stroke if you are shy---or to lean against for support during any action.  It creates a dark space—so you can barely see the cock you are playing with…

I suck some cock.

Guys suck me.

An hour or so passes.

The door buzzes.  I am sitting in the back row of the gay side.  A pretty good, leatherish, All World’s Video is on the screen.  In walks a young man.  He is in grey sweats and a maroon hoodie.  College age or just out.  He looks at me in the back row.  He looks at the man standing against the wall.  Then at the 20-something jerker in the front row.  He ambles down the four rows of seats—he’s headed to the young jerker.  No, he passes him.  He walks all the way around the 2 dozen or so seats, and makes his way to me in the back row from the other side.  He sits right beside me.  My cock is dripping pre cum just looking at him.  He slides his sweats down, showing off a nicely curved 7 incher.  His hands grope for my cock.  “Jesus.”  He starts stroking it—just as my hand finds his dick.  He tugs at me—“Come back here.”  We get up, barely pulling ourselves together to walk behind the partition.  The man leaning against the wall looks at me with absolute hate in his eyes….and stomps out of the room.

The boy is leaning against the wall, his cock out, his hoodie unzipped.  I run my hands over his chest and abs—he could be a gymnast.  His cock is dripping now as much as mine.  I go down on him.  He sighs and relaxes against the wall.  When I feel he’s close, he stops me and pulls me up.  He kneels in the gloom and engulfs my cock.  Or tries too.  His technique is toothy.   But I grin and bear it.  When he stands up, I go back down on him, but almost instantly I turn him around.  He has a great gym-worked  ass.  Hard and fuzzy.  I pull the cheeks apart.  He bends, supporting himself on the wall.  My tongue finds his furry ass crack.  He moans.  We are joined by the jerker—jerking.  I’m right there.  My tongue enters his young pucker.  Now he groans.  He lets me eat him out for a long time.

I come up for air.  “Fuck me,” he whispers.  I am about to tell him I don’t have any Magnums on me, when he adds, “Raw.”

I just nod.  And drop back to eat him a little more.  I work a ton of spit into his hole.  I grease my cock with just a small smear of lube.  I am going to have to be careful that I don’t blow instantly—I’ve had a lot of play and a lot of time there. 

I stand up.  I slip into him.  Like he was made for my cock.  No stress at all—but tight and clingy.

 He moans. 

The jerker jerks.

I fuck.  Slowly—more for myself than for him.  But soon I am slamming into that hard bubble butt.  I am getting close.  Fast.

And he cums.  It must shoot all over the new wall, but I can’t see it in the blackness.  He pulls off me…and my own potential orgasm subsides to nothing.  He lets me clean his cock a little.  Then pulls himself together, thanks me and takes off.

If this was fantasy--- I would have bred him—or taken him home for an all night rut in my motel.  But, no…but damn, he was hot….

Another hour or so passes.  More head given and gotten.

I go back in the straight theatre.  It’s late.  I know I should leave.  I stand just inside the door way.  Two guys are sitting on the new back ledge.  Both are stroking.  Both near my age.  The one closest to me has a mustache and is in dress clothes.  The other, slightly more portly, has on jeans and a flannel shirt---straight from the semi I’m sure he’s parked in the overnight lot behind the theatre.  Both have nice cocks.  And wedding bands that glint in the light from the projected video.  They don’t eye each other.  They just stroke and make an occasional comment about the girl between the two men on the screen.

I watch them for a while.  They seem oblivious to me.  Finally I sit down between them.  I pull out my cock.  I stroke with them.  Comments have stopped.  Just the sound of our hands and lube on cocks.

Finally—“Help a guy out?”  It’s the business type.  He’s looking at me.  He has stopped stroking to show off his cock.  Wordlessly I slip down to the floor.  I take him to the root.  I begin to suck in earnest.  He cums.  Silently, but for a slight intake of breath—from all those years of making sure not to wake the kids when he shoots.  I am aware of the trucker watching us as I clean his cock.  I stay on the floor as the business men zips and leaves.

“Come here, man.”  He says it low.  Not a command, but asking for service.  “Give me some of that hot mouth.”  I expect him to want me to rinse my mouth out from my water bottle, but no.  He just wants head.  Now.

I have to work really hard to get him off.  He occasionally touches my face—and seems thrown when he encounters a beard.  But he shoots.  And whimpers for a second.  Then—“That was really nice.  I’ll sleep well now…”  He does up his jeans without cleaning his cock off.  He ambles out into the hall. 

I’m left alone on the floor, my cock rampant.  I hear James Deen behind me, fucking loudly and about to shoot across the blondes face on screen. 

I look down at my cock and let one large drop of saliva mixed with jizz fall on the shiny shaft. 

I close my eyes.

I stroke…

A Thanksgiving Piss

I've been traveling out of state--and I am incredibly behind on my posts.

 

Here in the United States, it's Thanksgiving.

 

A great day to count your blessings.

 

While I will be spending it with my family in Michigan--

 

 

I can't wait to re-connect with all my local men.

 

I am thankful for all of them...

 

and for every one of their kinks.

 

That also includes all my pervy readers...

 

Thank you.

Tramp Stamp

My Playroom—October, 2012

 I was planning on taking the day off from sex.  October had been a great month for me.  I’d had all sorts of sex with a lot of men.  But then BBRT started blinking, just as I was about to log off and pick up my book.  He was young.  He was up from a big gay city in the deep South. He was visiting family—who were driving him crazy.  He was away from his estranged boyfriend.  “I need some seed,” he wrote.  He opened his pics.  He had an ass that begged to be eaten and fucked.

He could be at my house in 35 minutes.

He arrived, five minutes late.  Breathless.  He didn’t have the time he thought he would.  “Can we make this a little shorter than what we said?”

I nodded, and took him upstairs and told him to strip.  He was out of his clothes in no time, keeping on only a pair of red briefs.    I took my time stripping out of my 501’s while looking at him:  late 20’s, 5’ 8” or so, lithe and wiry, a small patch of hair on his chest but incredibly hairy legs.  And a tattoo on the small of his back.  A Celtic design of some sort…

 

He falls to his knees.  “Oh, I need that cock.”

I’m hardening just looking at him.  His mouth is all over me.  He’s excellent.  No teeth at all.  And taking me to the root.  I grab his ears and hold him still—then begin to fuck his face.  He groans around my cock.  I plunge it down his throat, grinding my pubes into his nose.  Then retreat, letting him breathe again.  And back.  I hold it for a couple of seconds longer.  When I pull out, he’s gasping for breath.

I push him rough down on the bed.  “All fours.”  I strip off his briefs.  His ass is gloriously full for one so lean.  And hairy.  I dive in.  He still smells of soap from his shower.  I eat him out until I can taste nothing but him.  I stand.  I push just the head of my cock in.  He flowers open and takes it with nothing but spit.  I pull out.  “Taste your hole.”  No hesitation.  He cleans my cock head, delighting in his juices and my saliva.  I look back down at his ass.  And the tattoo.  It hits me.  It’s Celtic alright.  Now.  But it was a bio-hazard tat he thought better of and had the artist augment it into the new design. 

I say nothing.  I just stick my cock in his ass.  All of it.  To the hilt.  “Fuck,” he yelps.

“That’s what I’m doing.”  My balls slap on his tight balls.  I fuck—giving him all of my cock on each stroke.

“Please.  Can I get off my knees?”

I help him up and into the sling.  I eat his ass again.  With his legs in the stirrups and after my punishing fuck, he’s wide open.  My tongue goes far deeper into his hot, moist channel.  He is groaning and bucking and beating his meat.

I rise and stick my cock back in.  “Oh, God….he grunts through clenched teeth.  His hand catches my wrist.  He pulls me down on top of him.  My face is right on his—his mouth to my ear.  “Call me names.  Please.”

I stand back up.  Just looking at him.  My cock still buried, but not moving.

“Please, Sir.  You know what I am…”

I can do this for him.  I feel the sneer move across my face.

“Sure, faggot.”  The tempo of his jerking picks up.  “I know just what you are.”  My thrusting is beginning.  “I know just what kind of whore you’ve become.”  My body is bashing against him now.  “Fucking cheater.  You only care about some big cock in you.  Right?  C’mon, whore---answer me.  I saw what you are…”  I am pummeling his upturned ass now with my hips.  His hand is a blur as he jerks his cock.  “You’re nothing but an AIDS whore.”

“ARGHH!!”  He shoots.  His ass contracts and I shoot.  I spasm and fall onto his sticky chest.  We’re still connected—cock to ass.

“Thanks,” he gasps. “That was perfect…”

"Have we got a cock for you"

Detroit—October, 2012

I spent the night in Detroit after the gangbang.  I was exhausted, in the best possible way.  Of course I was on the hook up sites by the next morning.  By chance, I began talking to a couple who had been to the earlier gangbang that month.  They had admired my cock, and wanted to play without the restrictions of just topping the designated bottom.  We agreed to meet in the afternoon.  I packed the sling up, visited my Dad, ate lunch, and went to their home.

They had converted an upstairs bedroom of their small, comfortable home into a playroom.  There was a bed, a huge television playing porn, a canvas sling on a frame—and a video camera pointed to the business end of the sling.

Tom is in his late 40’s. He is of average height, justly proud of starting to lose some extra weight, has an extremely furry chest and is a versatile bottom.  His partner, Dylan, is twenty years younger, about the same height, a good deal slimmer and is a top who is exploring his bottom side.  I knew just what was expected of me….

Tom is in the sling. I am deep into his seemingly bottomless ass.  Dylan is off to the side, looking at the video monitor.  “Damn,’ he chortles, “fuck him harder.”

I do.

Soon Dylan appears with a still camera.  He bends in to get close ups of my cock entering his boyfriend.  He taps my thigh, wanting me to spread my legs, so he can crawl between them and take pics from below.  I do.  I make sure to pull almost all the way out of Tom’s hole so he can capture the length of my cock.  I feel his tongue on the underside of my shaft.  Nice.  Dylan is as big a pig as I am.

Dylan spells me, taking a turn in Tom’s ass.  I work Tom’s nipples with my fingers and teeth.  And I am right there to clean Dylan’s cock when he pulls out.  I sink back in.  Dylan disappears to the monitor.  He adjusts the camera to see more of the actual penetration.  I hold up my trusty egg headed dildo to the camera.  Tom, eyes closed, barely murmurs as it slips into him.  Not so, when I add my cock alongside it.

“Shit!” he groans.  “What is that?”  I tell him as I continue to fuck.  I’m pretty sure it’s the only way a double fuck is going to happen today.  The toy has made his hole tight again.  He feels really smooth and silky on the top of my cock, which is exposed to his ass.  I love the contrast of the ribbed silicone below me.  I ask Dylan if he wants to try it, but he’s too busy.

Tom takes a break.

I sit and watch porn.

Dylan is back.  I eat his ass on the bed—hairy and delicious young flesh.  He eats mine, with me sitting on a crate at the foot of the bed, my arms crooked around my long, long legs.  I coax him into the sling.  I am trying to enter his tight hole as Tom comes back into the room.  He sits on the bed and encourages me to open up his partner.  Dylan is clenching his hole tighter and tighter.  He’s looking at my meat in the overhead mirror.  And panicking.  I blindfold him with a convenient bandanna.  It does the trick.  With a little more rimming and some steady pressure, I’m up him. 

To the hilt. 

I hold.

I fuck slowly. 

“Plow him good and hard,” Tom tells me from the bed, where he is groping his cock. 

I build my tempo and slam into him.  Dylan grunts encouragement. 

I fuck until I’m winded.  It’s my turn to sit down.

Eventually I get them side by side on the bed, both doggy style.  I slip up Tom.  “Kiss him,” I mutter.  Dylan is right there, kissing his boyfriend as I start to finger his hole.  Without warning I pull out, and enter Dylan’s ass.

“Fuck!”  he moans.

My fingers find Tom’s hole and play with it as I fuck Dylan so hard, my balls begin to throb from slapping against him.

Then I pull out and slip back up Tom.  Five, six strokes in him.

Five in Dylan.

Five in Tom.

Three.

Three.

One.

One.

My cock is battering both asses. Finally I stop.  I sit between them.  I allow myself to catch my breath.

“You know who we should call?”  asks Tom.

“Teddy,” says Dylan.

Tom sits up.  “Is it okay if we get you another bottom?”  I shrug.  “He lives really close.  I promise you’ll love his ass.” 

Dylan goes for the phone on the night stand.  He dials and walks to the top of the stairs, just out of sight.  After a brief hello, I hear “Have we got a cock for you.  Get over here.  Now.”

In no time Teddy is there.  Early 40’s and Italian. There is unruly dark hair everywhere on him—except his shaved head.  He takes one look at my cock as he enters the room and falls to his knees.  It’s instant attraction.  I am drooling precum after the work out I’ve had—and from the sight of Teddy.  He strips down to reveal a gym built body with one large tattoo on his left shoulder that wraps onto his back, down his bicep and gets lost in the hair on his chest.

“Let me ride it.”

He sits on me with nothing but his spit on my cock.  His ass is heaven.  He’s one of those men who can milk your dick with every stroke.  He faces me and I watch him slam himself down on me.  I could cum right now.  But I don’t.

Soon, I have him on his back on the bed.  I’m plowing deep.  I bend to kiss him, but his mouth turns away.  He milks me more.  I could cum.  But I don’t.

I wait for the sling.  I’m pounding into him.  The guys are rooting me on, telling me to breed their friend. 

I fuck.

I taste his hole.

I push in, just in time, and cream his ass.  I hadn’t cum the day before at the gangbang.  I feel like I am shooting gallons into his ass.  He clutches my shaft, even harder. 

“Pull out carefully,” he cautions me, “I want it all left up my hole.”

On the Tracks--the new photo shoot, part 6

The railroad track and the area around it were becoming too busy.

 

 

 

So we went to a local park.

 

 

 

He was still sniffing around me.  So I added a leash...

 

 

 

Are you thirsty?  Here you go, boy....

 

 

(Look carefully on his chin.  He's such a good piss boy.)

 

More to come.....

 



A Tale of Two Gangbangs

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