Monday, August 26, 2013

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 .

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