Teaching This Old Horndog New Tricks--Part One: Bookstore Threeway

Near Home—June, 2013 at 9:00pm

This is the first part of a three part entry.  The second will be my 300^th post for this blog.  I can’t quite believe that.  I didn’t plan it that way; it is just how it fell out as I recorded my play dates this summer.

The play room had been packed away since the first of the month.  The sling was stored in the trunk of my car so it could go with me, if I found time for a quick hookup.  The rest was stored in my cramped bedroom or in various suitcases in the attic.  On the last Friday of the month, I had a surprise evening off.  As usual, when I had time, I could find no one online who could host or had the time.  I didn’t spend all night fruitlessly searching.  I got in the car and headed to the closest bookstore.  I bought the combo pass for both the straight and the gay theatres.  As it turned out, I never left the straight theatre for the next three hours.

 

The porn is good.  I always love to watch a couple of guys on one woman.  The crowd is restless.  Not a huge crowd, but there are always two or three in the place with me.  They just aren’t playful this early in the evening.  They are a good mixture of guys I recognize from this place and guys I’ve never seen.  The seven new armchairs line the side walls, pressed against the black cinderblock.  The three person couch sits low to the ground for me, but it’s the only padded seat in the house.  It’s also the easiest way for a guy to sit next to me and lean over to sample the cock I’m stroking.  My pants are open and I’m rampant.  I haven’t shot a load in seven days.

I stroke.

There are two other guys in the room.   The older man has his dick out.  He flogs it continually, but it never seems to stand up for him.  He shoves it into his pants and leaves.  The younger man looks at me.  I look at him, then at my cock, then back to him.  He starts to unzip himself.  The door buzzes and three guys stream in.  The young man zips up and exits the room for good.

I stroke.

I get some head from a balding older gentleman.  He’s good.  He deep throats me once too often and shoots his load between my combat boots.

I stroke.  Alone again in the theatre.

The door buzzes.  It’s a young Mexican guy I recognize as a regular.  He is always asking for a fucking, but the one time we had played, he hadn’t prepped himself for my big cock.  I have been skittish about fucking him again for the last three months.  He sits in the chair nearest me.  He opens his tan cargo pants and pulls out his rather average cock.  He pulls up the bottom of his A-shirt and hooks it behind his head.  We stroke in silence.  Eyes locked on each other.

“Fuck me.”

I consider.  I am so in need of ass…

The door buzzes.  In comes a man I don’t know.  He’s my age with dark gray hair.  He is over dressed for the theatre—he seems to have stopped in after going something where he needed a shirt and tie.  The bottom looks at the new arrival.  They smile at each other.  He knows the guy.  He gets up, pants around his ankles.  He walks to him and bends over, holding onto the side wall.  His round, cinnamon colored ass is towards the both of us.  “Fuck me.”

The top is already undoing his pants.  He takes off his slip on dress shoes and takes the pants all the way off and folds them, putting them on one of the unused chairs.  He’s commando under those dress slacks.  A nice big cock pokes out from his shirt tails.  He looks at me.  “You going to fuck him, too?”

I don’t say anything.  I’m going to wait and see.

There’s no foreplay.  The top spits on his hand and rubs it over the expanse of his cock.  The bottom adds some spit to his hole with his left hand.  The top pushes right in.

“Damn, you’re tight.”

I stroke, still seated.  Then I’m on my feet.  I play with the top’s nipples through his shirt.  I slap the full left cheek of the bottom.  The top moves the boy around, never disconnecting, pulling the boy’s hips so he swings him away from the wall.  He lines him up so he can suck my cock.  The boy hungrily takes it down his throat.  We fuck his holes in rhythm.

“You need to try this ass.”

He pulls out and I move next to him.  I reach down and feel his slick cock.  It’s spotless.  I slide right into the boy.  He feels incredible.  He is squeezing my cock hard on every other stroke or so.  And he’s a pig.  He takes the other top into his mouth straight from his ass.  The top leans across the back of the boy and hungrily kisses me.  His wedding ringed hand reaches up and clutches the back of my head.  We kiss deeply, ignoring the man below us who is servicing us.  We fall into the same fuck rhythm again. 

I pull out.  “Get up on the chair.”  I pull one away from the wall into the center of the room.  I can’t believe we have had the place to ourselves. 

The Mexican kicks off his pants and kneels on the seat.  We reverse.  The other top glides into his ass, commenting on how hot I’ve made it.  I push back into his mouth.  After he cleans my cock, I pull out and sit on the floor.  I watch the big dick slice into him.

“How’s it look down there?”

“Great.” 

“Let me see.”

We change places.  I slide back up the boy’s ass.  The top has been leaking juice like crazy.  The hole is really slick now.

“That is so hot.  Fuck him with that big dick.”  I do.

We trade off one more time.  I am in his mouth when the door buzzer goes off.  The bottom springs off the chair as if it were on fire, grabs his pants and retreats into the darkest corner up by the screen.  I sit on the couch, fully exposed.  The top sits in the chair and covers himself with his dress slacks.

An older man comes in leading what I assume is his college age boyfriend.  They are holding hands.  He seats the young man on the couch, then sits on his right so the boy is between us.  The older man instantly slides a hand into the waist band of the young guy’s jeans.  He turns to me and smiles.  The boy turns to me and smiles more broadly.  He is sort of scruffy—but in a good way.  He’s bearded, with a slim, lithe body—you can tell, even though he still has his clothes on.  I love his smile.  You can’t help but return it. 

“You want to play with him?” asks the new daddy.

I nod and smile.  The boy bends, and takes my cock into his mouth.  It’s a bad angle so I get up so I can get better head.  The Mexican takes off, now fully clothed.  The previous top watches the action and strokes.  The boy takes off his shirt.  He has a good chest, though even in the half-light I can see a scar across it.  There is a tattoo on his arm.  He undoes the top button of his jeans, as there is still his boyfriend’s hand thrust down them.

Now the blow job proceeds in earnest.  He’s good, too.  And hungry.  I fuck his face.

“Do you want to get fucked?”  The older man whispers it in his ear, but loud enough for me to hear it too.

The young man nods.  I lube my cock a little, as he stands up and drops his pants.  He sits right back down and his hand finds his boyfriend’s.  I want to eat this guy out.  I kneel in the darkened room, the boyfriend reaches across and holds the young man’s legs high in the air.  I find his ass with my tongue.  He gasps as I go deep into him.  I love the taste of his young hole.  He is pushing himself onto my face.  I rear up and slap my cock on his hole.

I’m confused for a moment.

The boy has only the tiniest cock. 

Wait he has…

My brain makes an adjustment.  There is a rather full labia around another hole right above the ass I was eating. 

I hesitate.

Then push my cock into the transman’s ass…

To be continued…

Something to Fuck In

Fort Wayne, IN—June, 2013

One of the few times I was able to play in the month of June fortunately coincided with an afternoon motel party posted on BBRT.  I didn’t recognize the host.  I asked if he’d like me to bring the sling (which is always a good way to get an invite.)  He agreed and told me to get there about noon.  He told me he was expecting about 15 guys.  I guessed maybe half that many on his guest list would show up, but decided that could still be a great way to fuck away an afternoon.

 I find the motel easily.  I lug the sling bag up one flight and knock.  A man I know opens the door.  I wonder where the host is, but I don’t say anything.  Eventually it becomes clear—he is the host, using a new profile with a picture I could never have identified as him.  And here’s a surprise, his old profile is one of the guests coming to the party.  (It’s not a bad thing—I like the guy enough…it’s just an odd thing…)

I set up.

We wait.

And wait.

In about 15 minutes, which seem at least twice that, the first tentative knock comes at the door.  He comes in, and decides to take a walk until others arrive.   He reminds me a professor I had in college, the one who you just knew was gay— that perpetual Peter Pan look of trying to never age, careful to not raise his voice for it might be considered too fey, and who has the softest hands of any man who’s ever touched me.

We wait.

A friend of the host arrives.  He’s tall and lanky and seemingly there to talk to the host and not to have sex.  His arrival does bring Peter Pan back in.  I coax him out of his clothes.  He nicely enough built and hung bigger than many.   He can’t take his eyes off my cock.  He sucks me for a bit and lets me sample his dick.

“Fuck me.” 

I get him kneeling on the edge of the bed and dive into his ass.  It’s the first ass I’ve had in over a week.  He tastes great and I love the way he’s responding to my rimming.  I lube up.  I don’t ask about condoms, fuck it, this party was posted on BBRT.

“Oh, yeah, fuck me raw.”

Ok, then.  I sink in.  He takes me easier than I expect.  I hold for a second to help him get used to my girth, then begin fucking in earnest.  He is all but crawling away from me.  His mouth is saying how hot it is, but he is moving away from my cock.  I don’t let him go.  I just follow him right into the middle of the bed, now kneeling and fucking his upturned ass

“Oh.  My.  God!”  He grabs a pillow and buries his face into it to keep the noise down. 

The two conversationalists have stopped talking and are watching us, fully dressed but with flies open, and dicks jutting out.   

I fuck, showing off for the on lookers.  I pull out and slap my cock on his ass.

Oh, no.  He can’t have done any kind of preparation at all.  I’m caked.

I bite back what I’d like to say and simply whisper in his ear to go clean.  He’s in the bathroom; I’m at the sink in the room.  I soap repeatedly. 

There are knocks on the door.  Three guys come in.

I rummage in my bag for a squeeze bulb, and hand it through the bathroom door.  But he never uses it.  He just finds another top from the new arrivals who fucks him fast in the bathroom, and who shoots just as fast.  They both take off.

The party goes all oral for the next hour.  We are a mass of sucking flesh on the bed.  As each guy shoots he dresses and leaves.  Soon it’s just the host, the talker and me.

A knock.

An older man with an extravagant beard and mustache comes in.  I have played with him once before in this city.  Today his mustache is actually twirled and waxed into points.  I feel like Salvador Dali is going down on me.

We play a long time for nothing else is happening.  He offers his ass and I try, but he’s just too tight.  Neither of us is getting any pleasure out of it.

I am on the point of packing up the unused sling and leaving.

A young Black guy, tall and thin, and bulging in his low slung jeans comes in.  He’s followed by another nice looking middle-aged white guy.  It’s like middle aged wolves on some young fawn.  The host, the talker, Dali and the new guy are ripping the young man’s clothes off.  I go over and work his nipples as the four men fight to suck the monster no longer in the Black guy’s pants. 

But I get the last laugh.  “Who wants to fuck me?” the young man asks.  I seem to be the only top.  “With a condom, though,” he adds.  I get him in the sling.  I eat his hole.  Up above me someone is leaning over and sucking his dick--or trying to, it's so damn big.  Another mouth is on his nipple.  One guy is trying to feed the young man his cock though he’s not quite tall enough to get it up to sling height.  Dali is working the young man’s feet by suckling his toes.  I roll on the Magnum, lube it and stand up.  We make eye contact.  I insert slowly. 

He knows how to work his ass.  It is feeling good, even wrapped.  I work up to full speed.

And he shoots.

And he leaves.  He’s been here maybe 15 minutes.

I pack and take the sling to the car.  I come back in for my small bag of lube and stuff.  I say my good byes, and there is a knock on the door.  I really have to leave now or I will be late for my meeting over dinnertime.  The door opens and there is a hot bottom I fucked at the same motel party as where I first met Dali.  The bottom is handsome in that old Hollywood way and in his mid 30’s.  With him is a top I’ve seen online and never met.  He’s ex-Military, with a brush cut and arms that bulge from the sleeves of his tight white t-shirt. 

I know what I should do.  I start for my car, but I’m back in a flash.  The new comers have just undressed.  The top is laying on the bed, hard and impressive, his legs splayed.  The bottom is kneeling on the floor, between those hairy columns.  The other guys are contributing where they can or just watching.  I just open my jeans—a true zippered fuck.  I pull the bottom up so he is straddling the top.  I enter him roughly.

I pump.

I shoot.

I pull out.

“There’s something for you to fuck in.”

They all look pleased.

And I go home quite happy.

***
The next day I got a message from the hot bottom.  "Tony loved your load in me.  He fucked in it and fed some of it to me.  Yum!"

Re-match Fizzle

Northwest Ohio—June, 2013

Once a week or so I get a message from the bottom I wrote about in “The White Master and the BlackBottom.”  He always wants to do it all again.  I wrote the Master—he agreed we should meet  up again.  With my crazy summer starting the next week, I agreed to play with them on my last free weekend.  The set up would be the same:  we’d meet at a cheap motel, he would invite other tops, and we should degrade the bottom as we fucked him.

 I knock on the motel room.  It’s the same motel, almost the same room—one of those rooms where you don’t really want to walk barefoot on the spotted carpet and you don’t sit naked on the bedspread.  The bear of the white Master opens the door.  He grins when he recognizes me.  Before he can step aside to let me in, I hear, “Make me hard, faggot!” coming from behind him.

I step in.  A young Black man is slapping his flaccid cock across the Black bottom’s face.  He’s tall and well built.  The bottom is on all fours on one of the two beds in the room.  He takes the young man’s cock into his mouth.  He sucks him while I get undressed.  The Master lies down on the other bed and watches, stroking his own under inflated dick.  I get back into my boots and watch the young man pull out of the bottom’s mouth and take his semi-erect cock around to the boy’s full, round ass.  He works and works at getting it in, but it’s not happening.

“Fuck him hard,” contributes the Master from the other bed.

The young man finally gives up.  “I can’t.  It’s not so easy now I got a girlfriend.”

“She take care of you like this boy used to?” asks the Master.

“Yeah, she got it all this morning.”  He gets dressed and goes, promising to return in a couple of hours.  He never shows.

I stick my dick in the bottom’s mouth.  The Master, interested now, gets up and watches us.  He is stroking his cock, making an occasional comment—but it all seems detached.  I get hard but it takes concentration.  The lack of sexual energy in the room is noticeable absent.

 I move around to fuck.  I insert.  The bottom huffs Maximum impact and goes from grasping my cock with his ass muscles to relaxing and becoming a wide open hole.  I fuck him—slapping his ass, hoping I can make him contract his ass muscles that way.  What had been a hot fuck a few months ago is now average at best.

I watch as the Master takes a turn up the boy.  He’s good for a few strokes but goes soft.

It’s up to me, it seems.

I fuck him again.  He does the mix of poppers and MI.  The moment he huffs the aerosol, he goes limp and uninvolved.  I pull out and wait for him to come back to reality.   I take the can away from him and toss it on the other bed.  “You are going to take my cock without it.”  He looks stricken, but agrees to try.  I pull him around to the edge of the bed, so I can stand up to fuck.  I enter his ass, hard.  I’m not happy with the way this scene is going.  He yelps and grabs the poppers. 

After three thrusts, he is begging me to stop.  After two more he falls forward, disengaging us.  “I need to take a break.”  The Bottom curls into a ball and seems to fall asleep.  I look to the Master, he shrugs. 

The sexual energy meter dips to below zero. 

A home improvement show is on the television, seemingly on to cover any noise for the room next door.  It is showing off the latest basement makeover by some designer I don’t know, but who I’d like to bend over.  The Master’s attention seems to be there and not on his boy at all.  I flop down next to him.

We talk of this and that.  The homeowners on the television agonize over carpeting or laminate.  The boy is indeed asleep, muffled snores are coming from the other bed.  I am hoping the Master might eat my ass as he did on our first meeting.  I lead the conversation back to sex. 

Then out of nowhere comes the question.  “Why don’t you fuck me?” he asks. 

I agree. 

He pulls himself down to the edge of the bed.  He lies on his back, crooking his arms under his thighs.  I get down on the floor and tongue his hole.  I work around the forest of hair in his crack.  He groans, loud enough that I think he might wake the boy up.  But no, he’s dead to the world.  I finally zero in on his pucker. 

“That’s it.  Eat me out.  Nice and wet.”

I spit and work it into his hole.

“Slide it in me.” 

I ignore him and eat a little longer.  When I’m ready, I scramble up and insert.  He’s tight.  I get the head in, but that’s it.  I hold.  He hits the poppers and I am all the way in—I just glide home.  I hold for a moment.  Then my balls begin slapping on his ass.  He knows how to work a cock.  His hole clutches at my invading inches and holds tight on the withdrawal.  He so much more involved that the boy tonight. 

I fuck him until he asks me to stop.  “I’m not used to that much cock.”

The boy wakes, but he wants to sleep not fuck.  I stay for a moment of two, but there is no suggestion I should fuck the Master again.

I pack and head home.

Not very happy.

It's my last night of freedom.

And I'm blueballed .

Waiting On the Couch

Battle Creek— June, 2013

 My summers are so busy with work that they give me very little time to play.  The beginning of June finds me excited about the challenges on the job but with a slight panic at the thought of no (or very little) play. This year was no different.

When I got home from IML I had about eleven days before I had to pack away the playroom.  I really wanted to get Dean, the hot top who bottoms for me, on my new fuckbench.  We chatted online and found that we both had time to play, but only if I went to his house.  Playing with him was far more important than where we played, so we set a meet for 10:00am the next day.

I sent him a text as I left saying I was on my way.

Dean wrote back:  Just come in when You arrive Sir.  Door is unlocked for You.

Four minutes later I got another:  This boy is napping on the couch, ready for You Sir. 

Twenty minutes later I pulled into his wide driveway.  I walked into the front door.  The couch was dead ahead…

 

He’s there.  Sprawled face down on the couch.  His legs are pointed toward me, slightly spread.  He is wearing a white A-shirt and new Neoprene shorts.  They cling to his ass.  I take in his hairy legs.  His muscled arms are bent and under his head.  I lock the door and set my bag down quietly.  I kneel.  My hand goes to his ass and I kiss the back of his neck.  He murmurs and grinds his ass up to my kneading fingers.  Eventually he turns over and we kiss.  Our tongues do a wonderful give and take with each other.  I can’t get enough.  Our lips stay locked as our fingers go marauding over the other’s body.  My hand ends up under the waistband of his shorts.  I play around Dean’s hole, my fingers just brushing across it.

He’s now naked.  My shirt is off.  My cock is out and wet from his mouth.  I roll off the couch and sink my face into his hairy ass.  Dean groans loudly.  I poke and prod my tongue deeply into him.  Dean pulls me around to kiss me.  We go back and forth—sometimes he sucks my cock and then brings his mouth to mine; sometimes I eat his ass and then stick my tongue as deep into his mouth as it has been in his hole. 

I don’t know how long we stay upstairs.  I know neither of us want to stop this oral exploration of each other’s bodies.  Eventually we go downstairs to his play area in the corner of his laundry room. 

“I have something for you.”

I stop retying my boot, having just removed my jeans.  “Oh?”

“Some piss.” 

I can’t believe it.  He’s never been able to feed me his piss.

He grins.  “I’ve been practicing like you told me.”

I kneel and take his cock into my mouth.  It takes a moment, but soon he’s gushing down my throat.  Dean doesn’t try to control it—he just opens the tap and lets it flow.  It tastes sweet, though slightly strong.  The head rush for me is intense.  I can’t get over that he conquered being pee shy just for me.  I swallow it all, then suck his cock to hardness.  We kiss.  He loves the flavors in my mouth.    I hold the back of his head in my hand.  I don’t want to let go.

I eat his ass on his wooden, sort of tippy, fuckbench.  I piss on his ass and lick it clean.

There is a chain that hangs over our heads, stretching from one side of the room to the other.  “I have something new from IML, too,” I tell him.  I ask him to hold onto the chain as I blindfold him with a black bandana.  I put on my new police examination gloves.  They are of the thinnest possible leather.  My hands are all over him.  One gloved hand works his sensitive nipples.  My tongue works his ear.  My hand goes into his mouth so he can taste the leather.  My leathered hand swipes around his pit—then back to his mouth.  I press against his back so he can feel my cock in his ass crack.  A gloved finger goes in his ear, across his shaved scalp, down over the blindfold into his mouth again.  A slight trail of moisture is left as it traces his strong jaw line, down his throat and back to his nipple.  I move around to his front side to kiss him.  My gloved fingers now explore his ass crack—poking at his hole, kneading his ass cheeks.  My tongue is either in his mouth or on his nipples or working his pits.  I bring a finger up to his mouth to taste his sweaty ass crack.  He suckles the leather.  We kiss again as the wetter finger returns to his ass.

“Please fuck me.”

Dean is in the sling.  I enter him carefully.  We fuck.  Our eyes are locked.  I can’t stop watching his face as it registers the forward momentum of my cock sliding into him.  I hold.  Then I pound him.  I want him to feel me all day.

“I’m so close,” Dean pants.

“Me, too.”

I fuck the cum out of him.  He shoots a glob of semen with each of my thrusts.  After five or six, I pull out and coat his balls with my jizz.

I lean across him and we kiss—tender and gentle.  Neither of us want to stop and return to the workaday world.

But we do.

Once I get home, I shoot him a text, telling him how I can still smell him in my goatee and how I’m not going to wash it all day.

Dean texts back:  I just had a very tasty bowl of Cheerios!  Your smell is still in my stache…

I grin, inhale deeply and go into work…

The Treat in the Freezer

My Playroom—June, 2012

 
I was chatting with Mikey (the brother of Rob of the ‘Breeder’s Journal’) on one of the hook-up sites. 

 “Do you know this guy?” he asked.  “I know my brother used to fuck him all the time, but he won’t let me.”

I looked at the profile he named.  “Yes,” I had to admit.  “A long time ago when he lived closer to me.”

"You should hit him up—he’s looking.”
 
"He’s over an hour away,” I protested.

But the very act of my looking at the suggested man’s profile, made the “viewee” start a conversation with me—one that led to him making the drive out to the playroom.  He remembered my dick.  The fact that I had the new fuckbench clinched the deal.

Once he was in my playroom, I marveled again at how this man is ever wanting for sex partners.  He is perhaps 5’ 10”, lithe and mostly smooth.  He is ten years younger than I and looks younger yet.  His profile’s main picture is a shot of his beautiful sculpted ass. That ass looked even more inviting in the mirror as he bent over to suck my cock.  I sucked him briefly, too, but he couldn’t wait to get on the bench…

 
His knees sink into the padded supports of the bench.  His round ass juts out, begging for me to lick it.  I kneel.  My tongue makes contact.  Paul groans.  Loudly.  His head jerks up, catching his own face in the mirror on the wall in front of him.  He keeps looking into it, watching me grind my face as deep as possible into his ass.  My tongue has opened him up.  I am deep into him.  My saliva is coating his butt canal.  I am stroking my cock as I tongue fuck him.  I grab the lube out of the waistband of my jock and add just a drop of lube onto my cock.  I do it all by feel, I never need to stop the rimming.

I stand up and slap my cock on his juicy hole.

“Put it in.”

I do.  Slowly.  Inching it in.  His ass gives way under the pressure of cock slowly pushing forward.  I stop halfway.  I let him rest a second, and then begin again.  Pushing.  Opening.  Until I’m home.

"Oh, God, you feel good,” Paul grunts out.

He’s tight.  I don’t move for a long moment after I reach my full length in him.  Our eyes meet in the mirror.  “You want this cock?”

“Fuck, yes.  And your piss.”

I stiffen.  I hadn’t prepped for piss play at all.  I didn’t remember that he liked it.  I shrug it off and start the slow withdrawal.  I only get out halfway before I push forward.  I repeat.

“Harder.”

I don’t need any other prompting.  I slam into him.  Then pull almost all the way out.  He’s getting repeated full strokes now.  And loving it.  He’s grunting and moaning and, occasionally, calling me names.  I love how the bench positions his ass for me.  It is perfectly aligned for the long, deep strokes I am using.

We finally break.   But not before I kneel and taste his ass.  He is looser now, but not by much.  He knows how to keep his hole tight.   He tastes of his own self lube and the drippings from my cock.  I eat him out, and then work most of it back into him.

We share a bottle of water.  I admit to not remembering he liked piss in his hole.  He tells me it’s okay, but I can see he disappointed.

“Let’s do the sling.”  I get him up into it.  I lean over and spit on his hole.  My cock head pushes against his pucker.  He’s almost as tight as when we started.  I get into him, but it takes a moment.  I lean over him and smile.  Paul relaxes and I slide in.  He feels totally different on his back and with his legs in the stirrups.  His ass squeezes my cock on every stroke.  I lean in again and we kiss.

I straighten up and pound the hell out of him.

Paul strokes his long, thin cock.  I think he might cum.  I don’t want this to end.  I slap at his balls with the back on my hand.  He slows his stroking.

“I have something for you since I don’t have piss.”  I slow and then pull out.  “I’ll be right back.”

When I come back into the room, Paul is waiting, ass up, back on the fuckbench.  I dangle the full condom in front of him.  “I have a devil’s dick for you.”

 “How many loads?”

“Four.  All of my own cum.”  I warm the frozen loads for a second, and then peel the condom away from the frozen nugget of semen.  I push it against his hole.  To my surprise, it goes right in.  I move around and push it deep into him with the head of my cock.  I love the freezing pellet on the tip of my dick and the warmth of his ass all around my cock shaft.  It leaves an amazingly slick trail for me fuck in.  It’s a mind fuck for Paul, too.  His cock is rock hard and sticking straight down.  I start a quick, accelerating fuck.  My hips are slamming into his upturned ass.  I am churning my jizz in him, so his hole is frothing white.  I look down.  I think I may cum.

“You want my fresh cum?”

“Yes!” 

I spurt deep into him.  My hot cum mixes with the still slightly cool cum of the freezer.  I collapse on his back and hold onto him.

When I finally pull out, I see a white puddle on the new floor mat.  I have made Paul shoot without him needing to touch himself.

I  hunker down and bury my face in his frothy hole.  My cum is everywhere. I clean all around his asshole and lick as deep as I can go. 

 “I love your bench.  It’s new?”

“Yeah, I’ve used it a couple of times, but this is my first cum on it.”

 I can’t imagine a better way to break it in. 

And I tell him so.

Showing Off at the Bookstore

Near My Home—June, 2013


I had one other hook up in May.  It’s now a blank.  Obviously, I needed to take better notes.  I wrote “Safe guy new to piss.”  It can’t have been bad (though I remember it was really hard to go back to condoms) but I can’t remember the guy distinctly or what we did.  I am sure we fucked and pissed---but what his reaction was, I haven’t a clue.  I think I need to start noting screen names.  Or take more pictures.

 I remember the next encounter quite clearly.  Better notes and something slightly out of the ordinary help…

 

I’m at the bookstore nearest to my home.  I’m sitting in the new gay theatre.  It is pretty empty.  One man sits in the corner on the couch.  He is hunched over and sipping some sort of soda—far more interested in that than me or the movie.  I decide to check out the straight theatre, when I notice the film.  It’s a Dark Alley Media release.  It’s really rare that they show a bareback movie here.  Or maybe I don’t go at the right time.  I sit down to watch Owen Hawk work over some younger man.  I don’t have to watch long for me to open my pants.  Or take out my lengthening cock.  Or lube it up and slowly stroke it.

 The man leaves as soon as he sees my dick.  I sit alone, stroking to the fucking being delivered onscreen.

 The door buzzes.  A man in his early sixties, quite dapper in pressed slacks and a knit shirt, comes in.  He sits across the aisle from me.  He takes out his cock and starts stroking.  He watches the movie and spends just as much time watching me.  We stroke in rhythm with the plowing happening in front of us.  He smiles at me.  I smile back.  Before long, he stands up and comes over to me, with his cock in his fist.  It’s not much more than five inches, but it is red and dripping.  Without a word he pushes it into my face.  I swallow it down willingly.  He sighs.

 “Come here.”  He pulls me up.  “I want to see you better.”  He leads me to the front row, where the reflection of the screen bathes us in light. 

 It’s no longer me sucking him.  He is on his knees sucking me to the root—and doing a damn good job of it.

 The door opens.  A man comes in.  He stands for a moment at the back but soon comes down towards where we are showing off.  He wears an A-shirt that shows off the definition of his hard pecs.  The contrast between the whiteness of the bleached shirt and the blackness of his skin is caught by the light from the screen.  His grey sweat pants open and he pulls out a sizable dick.  He stands stroking it as he watches me get serviced.  His eyes are riveted to my cock and how it disappears down my cocksucker’s throat.

The older man catches sight of the new arrival.  We both seem to revel in showing off for this man.  When my sucker finally stops, I help him up.  He sits in the front row.  I start to kneel, assuming he wants more of my mouth.  He stops me.  “Go suck him.  Show me how good you are.”  He gently pushes me towards the stroking Black man.

I kneel in front of him.  I am even more aware, looking up at him, of the wide chest and powerful arms.  The light from the screen plays over us, shifting in color with whatever is on the screen.  He hesitates for a fraction of second before he removes his hand from his cock.  I lick the large head and then take him to the root.  He grunts something obscene.  His thick, calloused fingers grab for my ears.  He holds onto the sides of my head and begins to fuck my face. 

I panic slightly.  I can’t breathe.

He shoots almost instantly.  He holds me in place, no longer thrusting, as he unloads down my throat.  He pulls out roughly—he’s too sensitive for me to clean it properly.  I sit back on my heels.  Panting.  The older man is on his feet and in front of me.  He is about to shoot.  I get him into my mouth just in time as he dribbles a load onto my tongue.

He thanks me effusively.  He pulls out a huge wad of fast food napkins to clean his small cock.

Then I'm alone.

I stay on my knees, absently playing with my engorged cock, dappled in the ever changing light of the movie.

Tagging Ass in the Van

Near Home—May, 2013

The day after I had some hot ass in my playroom, I packed up the sling and went off to IML in Chicago.  I reported daily on the procession of men I, um, met there.  (Hit the IML tab in the topic cloud, if you missed it.)

I took a couple of days off when I returned.  By the middle of the week, I was ready for more.  An occasional fuck bud contacted me about sharing a young man.  It seemed a natural…

“Ok,” he types.  “Here’s the deal.  You’ll find my van in the parking lot.”  He names an all but deserted strip mall in the biggest city near me.  “Do you know it?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll be fucking.  Just come in and join us.  He wants two daddies.”

I look at the boy’s profile.  He is young.  He claims 25, but looks younger.  He’s blond and smooth.  Nice looking, with a naturally fit body.  His ass is a bubble butt that makes my mouth water.

“A couple of things.”

“What?” I type.

“You can’t rim him.  Don’t lick my cock as I fuck him.  Don’t suck me when I pull out.  You can’t felch him when I’m done.”

“Really?”

“He doesn’t want any of that gay stuff.”

I almost bail at that remark, but I say ok.

Two hours later, having left the hook-up site on, the boy writes me a note.

“Ready to fuck me?  Do you wear a cockring?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Well you can’t wear one today.”

“Really?”

“I don’t like them.”

Once again, I wonder if I should bother, but I type “Ok.”

I pull into the parking lot at the appointed time.  There sits the white van.  I park three spaces away.  The boy’s car, the van and mine are just about all that’s in the lot.  We are at the far end, facing some scraggly trees.  Only one business is open in this struggling strip mall.  The rest of the shops have soaped windows and ‘For Rent’ signs on them. Maybe three other cars are in the lot, scattered outside the solitary store.

I swig on my bottle of water and walk over to the van.  I look in the curtained window.  There is just enough separation to see inside.  The back seat is almost against the back doors.  The middle bank of seats has been removed to give us floor room to fuck.  There is an empty lawn chair to one side for me.  My fuck-bud, with his model good looks, is sitting naked on the back seat.  The white body of the twenty-something is riding his stiff dick, facing him.  I am instantly boned by playing voyeur.  The boy is prettier than in his photos.  Eventually I try the door.  It’s locked.

“Reach through the window…”   It’s my fuck-bud.  I do, finding the inside handle and open the door.  I step in.  The boy turns and looks at me.  I think he approves.  He certainly is fascinated by what comes out of my 501’s. 

“Suck him.” 

The boy gets off my f-bud and gets on the floor.  He sucks just the head into his mouth.  He can’t seem to cover his teeth.  I finally have to stop him.

“Let him fuck you.”

“That’s big,” he whines.

I hoist him up so he’s on all fours on the floor, his face in my bud’s lap.  I enter him.  Easily.  He feels great.  A smooth, smooth hole.  When I hit bottom he yelps.  I fuck him, giving him only ¾ of my dick.  He is still whining.  I pull out. He gets back on my bud, this time facing me.  I stroke as he rides him.  The cock he’s on is smaller, but not by much.  When they break, I suggest he ride me, to make it easier.

“No,” he says.   I just look at him.  “We’re done.”  I look at my f-bud. 

“Try it,” he urges.

“No, he’s…too big.”  He turns to me with a look that is one of sheer malice.

“Suck him off then.”

It’s my turn.  “No.  He doesn’t deserve it.”

I am dressed in no time, never having removed anything but my shirt.

I am out the door and into my car. 

***

I have never heard from either again.

Gang Bang Competition

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