Friday, May 24, 2013

IML Day One--Ass in the Afternoon

Chicago—May, 2013

I got out of the office 45 minutes early.  I took a mixture of back roads and the tollway straight into a huge traffic snarl the moment I hit the Dan Ryan expressway.  I was so sure that I’d left in time to beat a Friday rush hour.  But I was wrong, it seems.  It was backed up going into town—when I thought it would be a Memorial Day exodus of families from the city.  Who knew?
I am staying at the first overflow hotel.  It is literally across the street from the craziness of the host hotel.  I think I will like this arrangement.  I can walk over to tour the Vendor Mart, hook up with a hot boy or just cruise the lobby.  I will like our quieter hotel, as long as guys are able to negotiate a street crossing…and not insist they need cock just down the hall of their own hotel.

Bob, the man who was so busy on the fuckbench at the second CLAW Warehouse party, asked me that night (between my licking the cum out of his ass and my putting my cock in his dripping hole for the eleventh time) if I’d like to share a room at IML.  I agreed.  I have supplied the sling and rimseat.  I could only imagine what the bell captain thought when he tossed that big duffel bag on the luggage cart, making the chains rattle and the pipes clink.
Bob was in the two room suite when I got there.  He was naked and just about to start his clean out. Bob is just a little younger than I, with dark hair on his head and everywhere else on his body.  We hugged.  I got the sling set up as he went on with his shower.  As Bob stepped out of the tub, there was a knock on the door.  “Oh this guy wanted to come early, he called” I opened the door to the manliest man I have met in a long time.  Ben is 6’ 2”, big boned and had a package that mounded his jeans.  He had on a Nasty Pig vest that showed tons of curly dark hair at the neck.  His shaved head glinted in the light from the hallway.  I was soon to find he also had a plethora of tattoos on his arms and thighs.  In a word:  Hot.

They were all over each other.  I was sitting on the couch, checking BBRT as they moved into the bedroom, still in a kiss.  Ben absently swung the louvered door half way closed.  I could hear Bob unbuckling Ben’s pants.  I could hear sucking noises before Bob gagged.  I could hear the constant murmur of Ben telling his new boy what to do.
I opened my pants.  The door was open enough that if I walked towards it I could see them.  So I did.  Stroking...

Ben is fucking Bob.  Ben is standing, his pants around his ankles.  His chest in now bare, and showing off enough hair for two men.  Bob is lying on the edge of the bed, his legs up on those broad shoulders of Ben’s.  I watch Ben’s thick cock plow into him.  He turns and sees me.  I step back.  “Get in here and stick your dick in his mouth.”    
I strip.  And jump up on the bed.  Bob sucks me, but frankly, that’s not what he does that well—his talent is all in his ass.  I roll off the bed and hunker down to watch Ben drill.  Eventually he makes room for me. I enter.  Jesus.  I could shoot right then.  I have not gotten off for a week—and I’m feeling it.  I calm down and slowly fuck into him.

Then it’s Ben’s turn again.  When he pulls out, this time I get to suck his cock straight from the hole.  I fuck.  Eventually Bob rolls off the bed.  We each take a nipple of Ben’s and work it.  He pulls Bob up into his fragrant pits.  I raise his other arm, so we are cleaning him out simultaneously.  Then it’s more cock sucking and ass eating…..and we stop.
We want to save it for gangbang tonight.

They go off to dinner.  But I know I have to drop a load or I will last for ten seconds at the gangbang.  I dress in a leather shirt and tight 501’s and fire up BBRT.   I have my choice of cum dumps.  I pick a very young one who, in his profile picture, is coyly looking over his shoulder at the camera, while the camera is really focused on his great bubble butt.  He’s serious about it—he’s posted his room number right on the “quick connect ad” so I don’t even bother to talk to him.  His last sentence gives his load count: 16
The host hotel is swarming with leather men of every age.  I find the elevators easily.  And his room on one of the upper floors.  He’s duct taped the latch shut.  I push the door open.  The room is dark.  But I can see enough to know those pictures on his profile were taken 30 pounds ago.  I don’t care.  He is ass up on the bed, his head resting on his arms.  He starts to move.

“Don’t turn around.” 
I make a lot of noise undoing my belt buckle. I push my pants down to my boots.  I kneel and taste his ass.  He’s not lying about loads.  His ass is awash with sperm.  I lick some out.  He whimpers.  I am rock hard.  I know this will make me blow fast so I can have staying power for the gangbang tonight.

I enter him.  I don’t know if he has a talented ass or not.  It’s all about fucking in all that cum.  I fuck and fuck.  He sighs.  I think he’s about to tell me to breed him—so I pick up the pace and let my weeks worth of cum shoot out.  He groans.  He swivels around to clean me off.  I repack my spent, and slightly sticky, meat back into my jock and go find dinner.

Welcome to IML 2013!

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