"Cover Me in Jizz"

Near Home—August, 2013

Work was still heavy at the top of August, but I found time to escape on another Friday night to the closest bookstore…

 I am in the straight theatre.  No one is here tonight—except guys who check in, see nothing happening and then go back to wandering.  The movie is average, at best, as it can’t make my cock stay hard.  It’s shaping up to be a waste of time.

But it can all change with one man.

The door buzzes.  I watch a younger man come in.  I’ve seen him around.  He watches other guys have sex and beats himself furiously, rarely letting anyone touch him.  And that’s a shame.  I find him very handsome.  I guess he’s in his late 30’s, perhaps 6 feet tall.  He seems to be in shape, but the clothes he chooses to wear disguise his physique.  He looks a little wary when he sees me.  I am sitting against the left wall.  He chooses a seat on the right wall, directly across from me.

My cock gets hard.  I look at the porn, I look at him. I stroke slowly—showing him my full length.  He looks away.  He’s now watching the porn and kneading his khaki trousers.  I look back at the porn.  I glance at him again.  His crotch has mounded nicely.  Our eyes meet.  They hold for a second.  He looks away, but he unzips.  He pulls out a bigger than average cock.  His hand flogs it, fast and tightly.

Silence.  Except for the moans from the screen and the sound of the two of us stroking.

Unexpectedly, he gets up and sits next to me.

“Will you cum on me?” he asks in a low voice.  “I want to be covered with your jizz.”

I smile at him.  “Perhaps.”  He just looks at me.  “If you will help me get off.”

He says nothing.  We both go back to looking at the screen.  But almost immediately, his hand is reaching for my cock.  He strokes me, just as hard and fast as he does himself.  It’s not what I like at all.  I touch his wrist.  The pressure on his arm slows him down.  He strokes me at a better pace.  I add spit.  It’s feeling good now.

The door buzzes.  He pulls back his hand as though my dick gave him a shock.  The new occupant is the young college guy from the other night—the one who wanted me to fuck him, but the other daddy got up him before I could get to his ass.  He sits opposite from us.  In no time he removes his t-shirt and shorts.  He beats a nice sized cock.  He grins at me.  I nod and he quickly comes over and settles between my legs.  He gives great head.  The shy man watches, stroking faster.  He opens his shirt.  He repeats his request to be jizz covered.  He kicks his pants down around his ankles. 

The college kid is getting me close.  It must be really working for him, too.  He stands up.  I think for a moment he’s going to sit on my cock, but he pulls my head forward to take his dick.  He’s shooting.  Big.  Like 20 year olds do.  I hold it in my mouth.  When he pulls out, I lean over and let it drip onto the Shy Ones chest, who moans in ecstasy.  He beats harder, but doesn’t get off.

The college guy looks at his load on the other guy, grins and gets dressed, leaving us alone.

The Shy One turns to me.  “Yours, too.”

“Then suck me.”  I say it without thinking.  I know he won’t do that. 

He looks at me. 

Then he gets on his knees.

He just looks at my cock for a long time.  He’s stopped stroking himself.  I pull my cock towards my chest, raising my balls—offering him to start there.  His tongue snakes out.  And makes contact.  He whimpers.  I sigh.  It feels great as he makes them very wet. 

I push my cock down.  I want it inside his mouth.  He looks at it for a moment, then ovals his lips.  I’m in.  He takes over half of me.  He’s not a good cocksucker.  But he is sucking wholeheartedly.

I worry about teeth, but the mind game of getting him to do it is still hot enough to keep him in place.  Eventually he tires.  He can feel I am not close at all.  He gets up and sits back in his chair.

“Why don’t I suck yours.”

He shakes his head.  Then mutters something. 

“What?”

“You could eat my ass,” he says, louder this time.

Really?  When he knows that other guy’s load was in my mouth?  I don’t wait for him to think about it.  I hunker down between his now spread legs.  I find the tight hole.  He’s clean and ready for me.  My tongue pushes in.  A loud groan erupts from his face.  He starts talking dirty—telling me what to do.  I lick and spit, pushing in the saliva. 

“Put your finger in me.”

I take direction.  My long, bony middle finger glides up his wet hole.  In moments, he points his cock at me and shoots a load all over my face—the forehead, the nose, and my left temple.

I come up for air and scramble to my feet.  I’m just in time to ass a fresh load to the one drying on his chest.

FTM Porn: From Bed to Sling

The Next Town Over—August, 2013

The phone rang.  I have put it in a little pocket on the console of my Ford Focus.  I reach for it and flip it open.  (Yes, I still have a flip phone.  And I like it.)

“Yes?”

“It’s off.  He thinks he wants to go home,” sighs the producer of the Transman porn website.

“I’m over halfway there.”  It’s my turn to sigh.

“Wait a minute, I’ll call you back.  Keep on coming.”

A mile later the phone rings again.

“He’ll do it,” the producer barks out, before I can even say hello.

“See you in just a few.”

 We’ve done the paper work.  I’ve signed my waiver.  Justin has signed his.  The producer disappears to get us coffee.  Justin and I talk a little.  The young man opposite me in the under furnished family room is dark blond, with his hair cut short.  He is maybe 5’8” and trim.  He lives in Chicago and is here for the weekend.  Whatever the problem had been, it seems to be resolved.  I want to make sure he won’t change his mind mid-scene.  As soon as the producer returns and hands him some sort of fancy coffee, he disappears to shower and get ready.

I set up the sling in the master bedroom.

“We’ll start on the bed in the small room,” the producer tells me.  “Then invite him to your place for a ride in the sling.  I trust you to improv some dialogue.”

I nod.  No worries there.  I strip down.  I feel incredibly naked without boots and jock.

“Put your underwear back on.”  I step back into my grey boxer briefs.  They cover my growing bulge, mounding it nicely.

The small room, even lit by the umbrella reflected lights, is cool.  Justin really feels it walking out of the steamy bathroom and sitting on the smaller bed.

“Ok.  We set?” asks the producer.  “Oh, no anal.  Keep it all front hole.  And action.”

I am a tad disappointed.  I love three holes to play in.

We improvise something about a mutual attraction—something about how we’ve always wanted to meet.  I pull him into a kiss.  He responds.  He’s a good kisser.  No reservations at all.  My index finger traces the tattoos on his shoulder and bicep.  We knead each other’s underwear.  I pull mine down, so my cock flops free.

Soon he’s sucking my dick.  He’s bent at the waist, in an awkward position.  I flatten out on the bed.  I pull him down so he can take my cock more easily.  I love the feel of his younger skin against my chest.

“Sixty-nine,” comes the prompt from the producer.  We pause as Justin gets rid of red underwear.  I twist my head so I’m under him.  My tongue finds his asshole.  He grunts in appreciation as I connect.  I linger there then work down to his front hole.  I lick and swallow.  I spit and reach around to play with his now wet t-cock as my tongue invades his hole.  Justin squirms and takes me to the root. 

Without waiting for a prompt, he pulls forward and settles down on my cock, facing away from me and towards the camera.  I watch the lens zoom in so it sees nothing but my oversized, wet cock splitting him in two.  When the camera pulls back, Justin reverses.  He bends towards me to kiss me as I continue to pound up into his front hole.

“Taste yourself on me.”  I wonder if he’ll want to, but he gets right off me and takes my cock to the root.  He sucks me and then comes up to kiss me deeply.  It’s my turn to sigh.

I get a sign from the producer.  I ask Justin if he’d like to try the sling at my house. 

“Break.”  We all take a moment to drink water—or the remains of our coffee.  The room has warmed.  We make the trip down to the other bedroom.  The producer brings the lights and sets them up so he gets the fewest shadows possible.

“Ready?”

“Sure.”  I look at Justin.  He’s already in the sling, making clear his answer.  I get his feet in the stirrups.

“Action.”

I kneel and work my tongue around his ass, then into his front hole.  My lips surround his t-cock (the least pronounced I have had in my mouth.)  

I stand up and sink my cock into Justin.  I fuck a few strokes and then stand still.  I push the sling away from with my hands on the d-rings.  I pull him back onto me.  Hard.  He grunts.  He seems to really like this.  I don’t move.  I just fuck him onto my cock—pulling him towards me and pushing him away.  My hips suddenly take over, without my really thinking about it. I am slamming into him.

“Go for the cum shot.”

Really?  Already?

“Don’t cum in my hole—I’m not on testosterone right now.”

The producer hands me some paper towel.  I hold it in my hand.  I go back to fucking him.  When I think I’m close, I dip down to taste the hole.  The amount of wetness on my tongue sends me over the edge.  I stand up, wadding the towel in his front hole, out of camera line (I hope), and stroke off a big load that covers his abdomen and t-cock.

“And cut.”

It’s all business now.  I wash a little, dress and pack the sling up.  Justin and I get it downstairs to the front foyer.

“Here.”  It’s the producer coming towards the front door from the kitchen.  He hands me my check.  I smile and thank him.  I pocket it—grateful for the car payment I just made in no time at all.

This shoot is still waiting to be edited.  There are a couple of stills (like the one above here.)

Update:  4/24/2017:  This is one of my most popular posts with tons of weekly hits.  Readers, the studio has made these these films free to down load.  Go to the link here.

666

Near Home—August, 2013

The beginning of August found me back at the bookstore.  It happened to be the same night one of Satan’s minions was there…

 I am sitting in the straight theatre, but it’s all gay sex happening.  There are seven of us in the dark room.  I am sitting on the end of the couch.  The chairs are pushed against the side walls.  Moments ago, all of us were simply stroking, furtively eyeing each other.  Now all sorts of couplings have erupted.  To my right, two daddies were sitting on either side of a college guy.  The boy is now down on his knees, sucking the two older cocks, giving them equal time.  Two guys sit to my left, too.  They are now stroking each other.  Soon, one stands up, thrusting his cock into the other’s mouth.  I am rampant.  I jerk—staring mostly at the boy on the floor.  The daddy who is not currently in the boy’s mouth stands up.  He walks towards me.  He wears an olive drab A-shirt, covering his well-developed chest.  Hair tufts out the top of the fabric.  His cut-offs are splayed open so his heavy cock swings free.  He has army boots on his feet, just like me.  I can’t take my eyes off his left shoulder.  There, in Old English script, is a tattoo reading “666.”

“Suck this.”  He stands, feet apart and hands on hips, demanding service, right in front of me.  I lean forward and take him into my mouth.  He instantly begins pumping into my face.  His hands find my ears, holding me in place.  I think he’s going to shoot.  But, no.  He just likes to be as deep into me as possible.  He holds his cock in place, pulls out and fucks my mouth shallowly, then goes in until he mashes his pubes into my nose.

The thickness of his cock produces that thick, deep-throat spittle in the back of my throat.  As he pulls out of my mouth, it covers my goatee in long strands.  To the other guys, I’m sure it looks like he shot his load.  Mr. 666 pulls me up.  He kisses me hungrily, cleaning my mouth and beard.  My cock presses against his wet one.  He looks down.  That’s all it takes—he’s on his knees, greedily taking me to the hilt.  I notice his hands do that reflexive move of going behind his back.

Fuck being the sub—I am in charge.

“Suck my cock!”  I tell him.  “All the way to the balls.”  But he’s already there.  I can feel his beard stubble against my low hangers.  “Now the head.  Get your tongue in my fucking slit.”   My voice is low.  Insistent.  Commanding. 

His left hand grips his right wrist to keep his hands in place.  “Yes, Sir,” he mumbles, his words barely audible with my meat in his mouth.

It’s my turn to grab his head and fuck his face.  The college kid has stopped fellating the other Dad.  He sits on the floor watching me.  I pull away and sit back down on the couch, my pants around my ankles.  “Here, boy.”  I lift my ball sack slightly.  “Get your tongue between my balls and my cockring.”  He has to crawl to get there.  And he does, pulling himself across the dried cum on the floor from earlier in the day.  His face is buried now, right where I told him to go.  He does it—he gets his tongue wedged between the tight metal band and my furry balls.  I let him lap and suckle.  I lean back and push his head down.  His tongue goes right on down my perineum.  Is he hesitating about licking my asshole?  I don’t let him decide.  I just push him the rest of the way down.  His tongue connects.  I groan.  He moans.  He pushes deep.  “Eat me out,” I mutter.  He is grunting and spitting, making my hole as wet as possible. 

When I tire of his rim job, I pull him up.  He thinks I’m leaning forward to kiss him, but I spit in his mouth.  This makes him groan louder.  I push him to the floor.  “Lick my boots.”  He pulls the right foot towards him.  His tongue is doing it right, pressing hard to massage my foot through the leather.  I watch him clean the toes, the tongue, and how he lifts it to try for the heel.  “Do the other.”  He switches to my left.

The young college guy is watching, his eyes large.  He stands and steps out of his shorts.  His t-shirt gets thrown on a chair.  He comes toward me.  He turns and pulls a chair from the wall.  He bends, supporting himself on the chair.  His ass is right there.  I can’t quite reach it, but the request is obvious.  I turn to Mr. 666.  I try to pull my left foot out of his grasp.  In the moment it takes before I can get up, the Daddy the boy had been sucking stands and has his cock up the boy’s butt.  The boy grunts, but takes the raw cock willingly.  His hand jerks his own cock as the Daddy plows.  It only takes a few strokes until he shoots jet after jet of cum on the floor.  He pulls abruptly away from the Daddy, not letting him finish.

I stretch down and scoop up some of the boy’s cum.  I smear it on my boot.  “Clean it.”  Mr. 666 doesn’t hesitate at all.  He greedily cleans my boot of the viscid cum.  “Now the rest.”  There are three or four large patches of fresh cum from the college guy on the grungy floor.  He crawls away from me.  He licks up each puddle.   On the last one, he sits back on his haunches and shows me the cum on his tongue.  He makes a show of swallowing it.

I stand.  “Stay.”  I step to him.  “Open.”  He tries to take my cock in his mouth.  I push him back.  I shoot all over his face.  It’s in his eyebrow, up his nose, with most of it landing in his mouth and beard stubble.  I stand there.  “Now shoot.”  He jerks himself as he licks up the cum he can reach on his face.  He grunts.  And my left boot is covered again.  I let him recover for a second, then push his face into the cummy mess he’s made.  My left boot in on the back on his neck.

“Now clean it up…”

Satan’s minion grunts his agreement. 

His tongue leaves me spit shined.  And happy.

Two Couples Showing Off

Near Home—July, 2013

 

I ended my July sexploits with yet another trip to the bookstore on the last Friday night of the month. 

 I am sitting in the gay theatre.  I am currently alone.  My cock is wet.  I have been letting a man suck it.  He was attractive enough—mid 40’s, in decent shape and with a real cock hunger.  His teeth were only an occasional hazard, but it was pretty good head.  He never stopped jerking himself as he slurped and swallowed my dick.  It came to an end as he shot his load onto the floor.  There is now a viscid puddle of cum glinting between my boots.

I look up at the screen.  I hate the porn which is playing—bad acting, carefully rehearsed body placement with passionless, wrapped fucking.  I stand and try to get my hard, damp cock back into my jock strap.  I finally give up and just button the pants at the waist and let the fly tent.

A muffled moan comes through the venting grate that separates the gay theatre from the straight theatre.  I head out and around.  I am buzzed into the other dark space.  It’s alive with people.  A straight couple sits on the couch.  They are not particularly attractive, but the hottest man in the room, is sitting next to them.  His hand is deep between her legs.  Two guys sit against the far wall jerking.  The main event is certainly another straight couple. She is kneeling on the seat of a chair.  She is being plowed by a man, old enough to be her dad, who is grunting his release as I shut the door.  Her husband is to one side, holding her, playing with her naked breasts and making sure her head doesn’t get slammed into the cinder block wall with the violent fucking she’s receiving.  She is attractive with short blond hair.  Her denim skirt is pulled up around her waist.  Her pastel top lies in a twisted pile on the floor.

The daddy fucking her pulls out.  He’s shot into the condom.  He pulls it off rather roughly.  The woman turns and sits in the chair.  “You want him to pour that on you?” asks her husband.

“Oh, yes.”

The daddy looks confused for a moment, but then pours the contents of the used rubber on to her breasts.  She massages his cum into her exposed tits.  A younger Black man steps forward.  The husband gives him a rubber.  The new fucker rips it open, and rolls it down a long, thin cock.  The woman gets up and resumes her kneeling position.

The young man inserts.  He instantly starts to piston into her.  He grunts “I’m cumming” in no time at all.  Once again her breasts are doused in cum from the used condom. 

I move away from the door and sit on her side of the room.  I pull out my turgid cock and stroke.

The hot man from the couch stands up and adds his cum load onto her breasts as well, but live.  He jerks a big load on her already sticky front.  She thanks him and reaches for his dripping cock.  He’s too sensitive for her to touch it and pulls away.  A guy about my age, sitting next to the screen, stands up.  His cock swings free from his shorts.  He’s big.  Easily my size. 

The husband looks at the cock approaching his wife.  “I don’t have any large sized condoms.”

“I’ve got my own.”  He pulls out a Magnum.

“Honey, you want a big one?”

She doesn’t respond, she just gets back up her knees.  The man rips open the foil pack and makes a show of getting the Magnum on his big cock.  The husband hands him some lube.  Mr. Big Dick greases up then slips into the woman.  He is a great fucker.  You can tell by watching him.  You can hear it in her voice as she responds to not just being a receptacle.  He varies his pace, and the angle of his thrusts.  He pulls out and slaps his encased cock against her.  He’s right back in.  His pace is now in high gear.  The room fills with the slap of flesh on flesh.  It’s loud enough they must be able to hear it out in the video sales area.

The fucker pulls out.  “Turn around.”  She does.  Just in time to take his first shot on the chin.  The rest of his load goes all over her breasts.

They talk a little as the man cleans up with paper towel from this pocket.  It’s the couple’s first time here.  They came on a Friday to avoid the Saturday couples night.  “If I’d known it would be this much fun,” she chirped, “we’d have come here years ago.”

The man leaves.  The older, less attractive couple leaves with him.  There are just the two strokers left.  And me.

The husband looks at them.  One, then the other, shakes his head.  The husband turns to me.  After my FTM experiences, I’d been considering it.  But not after I heard him say he had no Magnums.  And neither do I.  I tell him so.

“I don’t think I can take any more tonight, honey,” she tells her husband.  He helps her get cleaned up and dressed.  He finally has a mound in his pants as he watches her get the cum off her breasts.  I hope he goes home and fucks her used hole until he unloads.  They leave, all smiles.

I watch the porn for a while.  The other guys leave.  No one else arrives.

I head next door to the gay theatre.

There is another couple, two men, both with pants around their ankles, going at it on the couch.  One is the mostly cute young man I’d fucked a few weeks ago (who had the unfortunate drip after he’d pulled off me.)  His partner is an older Black man. Flecks of grey are at his temples.  His shirt is open and the young man is twisting his thick right nipple.  His other hand is jerking a thick, curved cock.  The older man is squeezing the young one’s balls.

They smile at me.  I let my pants fall as I stand before them.  They look at my hard cock, but make no move for it.

I wait. 

The hell with it.  I drop to my knees.  I take first one then the other into my mouth.  I revel in the contrasts:  Black and White, older and younger, thick and curved vs. thin and slightly curved.  I have the Black guy close very fast.  He shoots down my throat while his cry on release is muffled by his face being buried in the young man’s neck.  He unceremonious stands up and moves away the moment I’m done swallowing.  The young man is jerking, his T-shirt pulled up to his neck.  I try to take his cock into my mouth, but he pushes my head down to lick his balls.  The moment I connect with them he shoots all over his smooth chest.  I reach for my cock, but it’s too late, I don’t shoot.  The young man sighs and pats my head. 

It’s dead the rest of my time there.  I never find a hungry cock sucker to take care of me.  But I do spend a long time stroking on the couch, thinking about the exhibitionists of the night…

Using His Hand

Near Home—July, 2013

 

Once again I used the bookstore as the easiest way to get off during my busy summer…

 There is no one there.  Well, there is one doddering old man who relentlessly shuffles back and forth between the two theatres.  There were cars in the parking lot, but the men must be in the arcade.  They certainly aren’t here.

Fortunately the porn is good.  I sit in the straight theatre and watch large muscle men have anal sex with petite women.  There is lots of ass to mouth for the women.  And one of the men, used in over half of the scenes, cannot keep his handsome face out of each woman’s ass.  I am particularly aroused when the finale has two men—one white and one black—taking turns on a tiny Hispanic woman.

The door opens.  I don’t bother trying to hide my erection.  I just continue stroking.  I glance over.  The man is in the farthest corner behind the door.  The usual spot guys go to when they want to be sucked in a semi-private space.  I look at him again.  No big deal.  He’s a pretty typical man in later middle age, wearing shorts and a baggy shirt.  But he’s not standing there to be trade.

He’s standing there to get dressed.

The baggy shirt comes off over his head.  A frilly blouse is beneath it.  He drops the Bermuda shorts to the floor. His pink panties are thong cut.  A skirt is rolled up around his waist.  He rolls it down.  It hits just above the knee.  His shoes are sandals that are rather gender neutral.  From his bust he removes a blond wig, cut in a short page boy style.  I look at him get it in place, covering his thinning hair.  He rolls the two outer garments together, than carefully parades to the chairs directly across from me.  He sits demurely.  He crosses his legs at the ankle and feigns great concentration on the movie.

Soon the looks begin.  He sneaks glances at my swollen meat.  He never lets them linger very long.  When I catch him, I smile but he won’t return it.  I just keep stroking and go back to the movie.

The door buzzes.  It’s the old man.  He looks at me.  He looks at the man (who would fool no one in his drag.)  The old man mutters under his breath and shuffles out the door.

I stroke.  His hand kneads a bulge under his skirt.

The door buzzes.  It’s a hot looking guy in his mid-40’s.  He has short, dark hair and is wearing a dingy T-shirt, cargo pants and sandals.  He sits on the couch which is between where the two of us sit, plastered against one wall or the other.  He looks at me.  He looks at the man.  He looks back at me and unzips.

I can’t see his cock, but he’s stroking from the moment he’s pulled it out.  The guy in drag looks over.  His hand disappears up his skirt.

I look back at the screen.  I watch the two men on the screen reverse who’s in her ass and who’s in her mouth.  I sense movement across from me and look over at the other two.  The guy in drag is on the floor giving the hot guy head.  Damn.  That was amazingly fast.  I wonder if they know each other.

There is a grunt.  I can’t tell who made it—but someone just came.  It’s the guy in drag.  He gets up carefully and goes back to his dressing spot.  His load is shiny and white on the dark tile, reflecting the light from the television screen.  He reverses the process and reverts to his everyday appearance.  He leaves.  The guy on the couch slides closer to me.  I go over and stand in front of him.  I’m glad he moved down so I’m not standing in the other guy’s load.  His handsome face is immediately pressed to my pelvic bone.  He has me all the way down his throat. 

Eventually he comes up for air, flopping back into the couch.  I kneel.  I pull the cargo pants down so I can get at his cock.  Jesus.  Maybe they did know each other.  He’s wearing women’s underwear as well, his in light blue.  I pull his cock around the silky material, and take his small dick into my mouth.  My finger snakes under him and finds his ass.  He likes the attention to his cock, but the sigh as my finger plays around his hole tell me what I need to know.  I pull him toward me, and raise his legs in the air.  The blue strip of thong material is no match for my tongue—it can’t protect his hole.  I am pushing into it, rimming him deep.

I can’t hold him that way for too long.  He flips over, so he’s on all fours.  I get lost in his lightly haired ass.

I stand.  My cock slaps his ass.

“I can’t,” he moans.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  He swings around into a seated position.  “I’ve been fucked too many times today.”

I nod and sit next to him.  I guess the real reason is he wants a condom.

“Would you jerk off on my ass?”  He’s already squirming around, assuming I’m going to say yes.  He’s back to kneeling on the couch, his head cradled in his arms on the back.

The way the evening is going, I guess this is the best I’ll get.  I stand and slap his ass—which still has the T of the thong running down his crack.  I spit on my palm and slather it on my cock.  I stroke. 

He’s busy talking—telling me how he wants my big cock another time.  How his ass could easily take a man my size.  How I need to fuck his pansy ass.

I shoot.  It’s the only time I’ve shot this week—it’s a big load.  He makes more noise than I do.  I watch his hand reach back.  He smears my cum all over his hairy cheeks—then starts working it up his hole.  Damn—I was wrong about his wanting latex.  He works most of my load into his ass.  He’s missed one spurt—I swab it down to his hole and let him push it into his man hole.  The blue material of the thong strap is now sopping with my jizz.

I mop up the remainder on my palm.  The man digs into his wallet.  He gives me his business card. 

I hope to get my cum into him, directly, the next time we meet.

Hooked

Rural Rest Area Near Home—July, 2013

When I started having gay sex, I just wanted to suck cock.  But even the night I lost my virginity with a man; the guy took one look at my big, hard cock and sat on it.  I mean, the thirty years with my partner were pretty much all about mutual oral sex.  Of course we tried everything in that length of time together, but oral sex was to what we always returned.  Now, there are still days that sucking is really the only kind of sex I want to have.  I have learned that sometimes it’s best to keep my cock in my pants as I suck.  No temptations.

There is an “unimproved” rest area off the beaten track near my home.  It is favored by truck drivers and farmers with only an occasional family.  Last year it was a good place for relief with my busy summer.  For some reason, I barely went to it this year.  The one time there I met up with Bill.  (He has made a brief appearance in these pages here.

I have said before, I love to fuck ass that I perceive as my age or younger.  I love to suck the cock of a man who is older than me.  As I age, it’s getting harder to find men to even vaguely be a “daddy,” but Bill is perfect at 66 or 67.  His years of growing up working a farm show in his sinewy arms.  He’s stayed trim.  He has a goatee and a fringe of white hair.  His face is weathered from the sun and from the cigarettes that he has now given up.  Usually in jeans and a plaid shirt, in the heat of July, he was in an A-shirt that showed off his arms and the top tufts of the hair on his chest.  And there’s his cock.  Thick and meaty.  It hooks down sharply.  If I am on my knees in front of him, it goes right down my throat at the perfect angle.

I am sitting in my car, with half an ear on the classical programing on NPR, reading a play by Enda Walsh.  It’s warm, but not nearly as hot as some Julys in Michigan.  The rest area is hopping.  It is mid-week—the guys have found an excuse to get out of the house.  The problem is that there are so many people here, you can’t do anything.  Some stroll to the pit toilet, then go back to their vehicle and drive off—lingering at the intersection, hoping someone will follow them to some lonesome place.  I have seen no one that inspires me to want to do that.

I go to the water pump.   I fill my water bottle.  I hear a larger vehicle arrive.  It’s Bill.  I sit back in my car and wait for him to make the obligatory pit stop.  When he comes out, he heads for the pump—which means he has to pass my car.

“Hello there, stranger.”  His voice is deep and gruff.  It’s been almost a year since we’ve seen each other.

“How are you?”

“I need you.”  He hefted the waistband of his jeans, pulling the fabric taut around his obviously hard cock.  “But not here.”

“Where do you think?”

“The lake.  Follow me.”  He gets back in his pickup.  I follow him to a manmade lake—one that had been a byproduct of making the highway.  He backs into on overgrown parking space.  I pull in and get out of my car.  You can hear kids in the water a long ways away, but there is no one near us.  Bill is eager.  He has his jeans open by the time I jump into the cab.  “I’ll keep watch.” 

I get to work.  It’s cramped in the front seat of the truck, but from the look of things, I won’t be here long.  I lick around the head and swallow the whole shaft down.  I have to twist slightly to get the hook to lodge as I like it.  I come up for air and go down two or three times.  This time he holds me in place and fucks into my ovaled mouth.  I think he’s going to shoot, but he holds off.

“Let me see yours.”

I undo my pants.  I am hard from servicing him.  He gives me a few preliminary licks.  Then he takes me until he gags.  The angle is bad, so Bill only gets about half my cock.

I lean back over, adjust to the best angle, and let him fuck into my mouth. 

This time he shoots. 

Hooked in place.

Spewing his seed directly into my gut.

“Damn.  You are the only guy I let do that.”

I come up and look at him.

“Well, there’s one other” he amends.  “I wouldn’t let most of those guys touch me.” 

I thank him. 

“I didn’t do anything with another guy until we met a couple of years ago.”

“Did you ever want to—growing up?”

“I thought about it.  But it was too much hassle.  I got married by nineteen.”  He thinks a moment.  “I wasted a lot of time…”

We both let that sentence hang in the air.

A car is coming down the gravel path to where we are—we can hear it though not see it yet.  We both are zipped up and pulled together by the time the junker pulls past us on the way to the fishing spot.

*****

I saw Bill again in August, almost immediately after the playroom was set back up.  He looked at all the apparatus—the sling, the fuck bench, the rimseat—but said nothing.  We played on the bed.  It was nice to be naked with him, but it was over for him just as fast.  He hooked his cock down my throat and I got another gut full.

“Did I tell you I’m getting my dick fixed?”

“No,” I sounded surprised, even to my ears.

“That curve.  The doc says he can straighten it.  I fell off a bike as a kid and the seat hit me—causing all that scar tissue. That’s what makes it hook.”

“Right.”

“He says he can take it all out and it’ll be straight after all these years.”

I smiled encouragingly.  He seemed so pleased. 

He must have hated it all these years—the very thing that I loved the most about sucking him…

FTM Porn: The Bad Boy

West Side of Michigan—July, 2013

“I know you have no time,” the producer of the transmale porn site wrote me, “but I have a guy who’s moving away this month.  He wants to talk to you about doing a scene before he goes.”

I agreed to have a talk with the transman about seeing if we were compatible.  Within an hour I received a text arranging a time to have a phone chat.  It was a wary conversation at first. Michael was sure I either couldn’t or wouldn’t want to do the things that got him off.  “I like a guy to take charge.  To use me as he wants.”

I explained that was pretty much how I played.  I asked about kink.

"I’m open to about anything. I love that you have a sling.  I can be fisted in both holes.”

“How about watersports?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Good.”

“I’ve always said just treat me like a sub gay man and we’ll both get what we need.”

We talked a little more and found we both had a three hour block of time to do it.  Early on a Sunday morning, I made the trip to the producer’s home.

The set-up is the same—the bed and the sling at the foot of it.  As it works out, Michael has no interest in doing anything on a bed.  To keep him happy, we simply start with me ordering him to the floor, and the hood goes on…

 

“Kneel.”  We are at the foot of the sling.  I am in my leathers—Michael is naked.  The camera is filming from Michael’s back.  I hand him the hood.  He needs to keep his face off the screen.  The black cloth goes over his head.  There are holes for his eyes and mouth.  “Now suck my cock.”

He opens wide and takes my helmet head into his mouth.  It is incredibly hot to see my cock go into this hooded man.  He is 34, maybe 5’ 8” with a nice body.  His hairy legs are folded under him.  His hands have gone instinctively behind his back.  I push deeper into his mouth.  My hands find his ears and hold him in place as I face fuck him.

I get the wrist restraints off the with sling chains.  I buckle his right wrist, then his left.

“In the sling.”

He hops in.  He knows his way around a sling.  I snap the restraints to the chains above his head.  I get his legs situated in the stirrups.  I let out a grunt of appreciation as I look at his two holes.  I kneel and lick at his t-cock.  He squirms and gasps.  I sink lower and explore his front hole with my tongue.  I dip lower and poke just as deep into his ass.  This makes him groan louder yet.

I am ready to fuck.  I stand up and slap my cock on his genital mound.  I deftly pull back and slide home into his front hole.

“Damn!”

I fuck deep for several strokes, pull out, slap my cock on his mound again and push my way back into the splayed hole.  After several more strokes, I pull out and bring it up to his mouth.  “Taste yourself.”  He does.  With obvious pleasure.  I move back around to the foot of the sling and sink my now wetter cock into him to the hilt.  I fuck for a long time—hard and fast, followed by languid strokes while I play with his t-cock, to just standing still and pulling the sling to me and then pushing it away.

I want to explore more of his ass.  I pull out of his front hole.  “You want some piss?”  I spray his ass with my hard cock, not waiting for a reply.  I then bury my face into the dripping hole.  I am pushing some of my piss into his ass with my tongue.  I lick it out and spit it back.  Soon my raw cock pushes into the drenched hole.   It’s tight, but he has control.  By the time I’m done, he has loosened up.

“I want you tighter.”  I grab the egg-headed dildo.  I rest it on him so he can see it.  I pour lube on it and cover the silicone toy.  I slap it against his t-cock.  It inches down his body until it is pushing into his front hole.  He gasps at the size of the head, but then the more slender shaft is easy to take.    I saw it in and out for a moment.  Then I leave it sticking obscenely out of his hole.  My cock is rock hard.  I slip it into his ass.

It feels so good.  I can feel the toy pushing against the thin membrane that separates the two holes. He is back to being incredibly tight.  It feels a lot like two dicks in the same hole.

“Cut.  I want that from below.”

I had almost forgotten he was there.  I pull out and we film my entry into his ass again, this time with the camera underneath.  He holds a small light in his other hand which puts out incredible amounts of heat.  I fuck him a lot in the ass. I can’t get over the feeling of fucking the hole with toy there, but not right in the same hole with me.

“Give him your fist.”  The director sets back up topside, off to the left.  We take a quick break.  When we are re-set, I grease my hands and go for his ass.  I work slowly—one, two three fingers.  Four and rotate.  But I can never quite get the bridge of the hand into him.

“Give it to me in my front hole.”

I re-lube.  I do the same progression, but my hand is easily taken to the wrist.  I move ever so slightly.  He reacts.  I touch his t-cock, with my other hand, keeping the one hand buried deep.  I keep it up until he gets off.

“We need your cum shot.  All over the front hole and stick it in after.”

I nod, checking with Michael.  He nods in full agreement.

I bend and lick the hole where my hand was—savoring the taste and the feel on my tongue. I rear up and shoot.  It’s a good sized load.  It coats the entire area.  I use my dick head to pull some down so I can sink it into the front hole.  The sensation of going in after I’ve shot is almost more than I can take.  I am on sensory overload, but I manage to pull out and scoop some more in with my cock.

“Cut.”

And another video shoot is done…

We clean up.

I get my check.  It’s the same bigger figure as last time, but he’s added travel money.  I could get used to this…

 

This shoot is still waiting to be edited, but there are several stills on the website:
http://www.transmaleerotica.com/main.html



Please Note:  As of 10/31/13 the film has been edited and is available for download from the website above.  I haven't seen it yet....

Drip

Near Home—July, 2013

 With the playroom down and my spare time at a premium, the bookstore became the easiest place to find relief during my busy summer months. 

 

I walk into the gay theatre.  At first, I think no one is in the room.  It’s dark.  The scene in the film is dark and trying for romance, so it makes the room even darker.  I open the door a little more.  There is a lone man sitting in the corner.  I feel my way along the far wall.  I find a chair with my shin.  I sit.  I’m on the opposite side of the room from the other occupant.  He is hard to see across the gloom.  His eyes seem to be only on the screen, his hands in his lap.  Not stroking.

I watch the movie.  Oh, please let them fuck and stop making them say lines of dialogue.  Eventually the scene on screen builds to an amazing ass being eaten by the hung top.  It’s good enough to get me hard.  I unbutton and stroke.  I shoot a look over to the other man.  He’s not stroking, but he seems to be kneading his bulge.

I can see him a little better, now that my eyes have adjusted to the dim room.  He’s younger than I, maybe late 30’s.  He’s thin, wearing a t-shirt with a logo on it that I can’t make out.  His long legs are stretched out in front of him, with his head is resting on the back of the couch.  I can’t make out the expression on his face.

On screen, the cock goes into the gorgeous ass.  My attention goes back to watching a few minutes of that amazing ass getting plowed.  The guy to my side, and slightly behind me, stands up.   I wait for that touch on my shoulder.  Nope, he’s leaving the room.

I sit and stroke totally alone.  I wonder if anyone new has gone in on the straight side.  About the time I think I’ll put away my cock and check, our door swings open.  I glance behind me.  It’s the same guy.  He’s back.  I can actually hear the toilet refilling down the hall.  He shuts the door firmly.  He sprawls back on the leatherette couch.  Are his legs spread wider than they were before?  He undoes his belt and unzips.  He is holding his hand so I can’t see his cock, but I know it’s out of his pants.

We stroke.

And stroke.

Finally, I walk over, standing between his spread legs.  He looks up into my face.  He’s cute in a slightly off beat way.  He says nothing; he just takes his hand away from his ample cock.  I kneel and take him to the root.  It has a slight curve to the side that makes it harder to suck.   I manage a few times and then switch to his balls.  They are hairy and full.  They roll around in their sack.  He strokes as I nuzzle into that sweaty, crinkled skin.

His hand goes from his cock to the top on my head, stopping me.  He’s close. 

I stand up.  He shucks off his jeans.  He pulls me down onto the couch.  He bends over and sucks me.  It’s a bad angle and he knows it.  He stops.  He swings a leg over me and is straddling me.  He just wanted to get my cock wet.  His ass is sinking down on my raw cock before I can say anything. 

He rides me, his cock flopping across my A-shirt.  Then he holds still and I fuck up into him.  He feels wonderful.  He’s tight.  And he knows how to work his butt.

When we both need to slow down, he slides up and off me.  He brings his cock to my mouth.  I hungrily take it in. 

Then I feel it.  His ass is dripping onto my A-shirt.  He looks down.  “Oh, my God…”

We become flustered.  He gets off me quickly, but not easily.  I reach for the paper towels in my pants pocket, but the pants are now down around my boots.  He grabs a proffered towel and kicks into his jeans.  He keeps apologizing.  I say no problem…but I’m not sure I believe it.  He’s out the door and into the bathroom before I can mop at my shirt. 

I sigh. 

I eventually get into the bathroom.  I am done for the night. 

Blueballed .

This is why, I remind myself as I reach for my car keys, I don’t usually fuck at bookstores.

 

Teaching This Old Horndog New Tricks--Part Three: Making FTM Porn

Near Home—June, 2013 12:45am

This posts picks up immediately after the last two.

“I run a porn site about transmen.  I’ll pay you.”

I just look at him.  “Really?”

"Yeah.  Wanna make some porn?”

 

I don’t even think twice.  Why not?  We head out, leaving the theatre together.  The bookstore clerk smirks at me, thinking he knows just what we are off to do. 

I follow them in my own car.  It feels like it takes forever to get to his house, but in reality, it’s not that far.  It’s just getting late. 

We go in to his large, but typical house in a newer subdivision.  We stand around the kitchen as the producer, the large man who I once thought was the boyfriend, fills out the various forms.  I prove I’m over 18 (really?).  I sign model agreements and papers about profit sharing.  I give him my porn name—Charles Wolfe.  Jaman and I take our HIV tests and have our pictures taken with the results.  He goes off to shower and clean up for the shoot. 

The producer and I talk a little about my blog.  I ask how many shoots he’s done; he’s has three waiting to be edited.  The producer’s impressed I’ve actually done porn.  The college guys he got before were pretty hit or miss.  He tells me Daddies are big in transmale porn.  I drop the fact that my sling is in the trunk of my car.  He loves this idea as it will give him better camera angles.  I go out to the car and get it.  We haul it up the stairs to the big bedroom.  I set it up and then go shower myself.  When I step out of the steamy bathroom, the lights trees are up and pointing at the bed.

“I thought we’d start on the bed.  After fucking there for a bit, you’ll invite him to get in the sling.”

I agree.  We sit for a moment waiting for Jaman to appear.  I look around the plain beige room now transformed into his set.  The equipment is good.  Someone has invested some real money in this site.  Jaman comes in from the big bathroom. 

“Let’s get started.”  He explains to Jaman what he just told me.  We make our selves comfortable, propped up on pillows against the wall.  We are already naked so we pretty much just start.   He’s a good kisser.  I get him down on my cock.  He sucks noisily.   I pull him up to kiss him again.

“Ride him,” prompts the producer.

Jaman climbs aboard my cock, facing me.  I look even bigger than usual as this fairly small person lowers himself onto me.  I let him do the work for awhile, then grab him around the waist and fuck up into him.  I am ready to move around to a traditional missionary position as the producer stops us and switches us so Jaman is riding me, facing the camera.  He gets a close up of my cock splitting him open.  He brings a light in with the camera.  The heat is intense on my balls and thighs.

We fuck missionary.

We sixty-nine a little.

“Ok.  Do the invite.”

“I really want him to sit on my face first.”

“Great.  But get your head down here.”  He thumps the foot of the bed.  I sprawl in that direction and Jaman settles onto my face with a moan.  I work my tongue back and forth between his holes, my fingers on his t-cock.  I am pretty sure I get him off.

I roll out from under.  “I’d really like to get you in my sling.  Do you want to?”

Jaman nods. 

“Cut!”

Lights are shifted from the bed to the sling.

We never really stop playing.  I idly fuck him until we are ready to go.  Once he is positioned in the sling, I concentrate on anal sex.  I eat his ass.  I spit into opened hole.  I fuck it hard.  Then I do it all again in close up. 

I spend more time licking his T-cock.  He squirms with the intense stimulation. I rise and slap my cock onto the wet mound.  “You want this big cock back in your pussy?”

“Cut!”  We stop.  “Don’t call it that, go back and say ‘front hole.’”  I nod, lesson learned.

“You want this big cock back in your front hole?”

“Please.”

I slide in.  And I fuck with some nice chain rattling.

Then we film it from below, the light intense on our bare skin.

We break.  I lean in to kiss Jaman.  He asks for me go back and forth from ass to front hole. Repeatedly.  Can I do that?  I grin.  And he gives me that grin that made me so hot for him in the first place.

“Ok.  Battery is changed.  Are you ready to cum?”

“Close,” I tell him.

“You know the kind of thing.  Cum on his front hole then push it inside.”

“Got it.”

I insert in his ass.  I do a couple of strokes, then pull out and move right up to the other.  I fuck a few strokes there, then go back to the ass.  Jaman is loving this.  So is the producer, actually.  I keep it up.  Then announce my cum shot.   After all the hours of play, I have built up a big load.  I shoot it over his front hole.  It drips down onto his ass as well.  I push in, truly breeding him.  I pull out and push even more of my spunk into him.

“Cut.  Damn.”  The producer puts the camera down and comes around between Jaman’s legs.  He looks enquiringly at Jaman, who nods at him.  He shoots a load onto him as well.

***

I’m packing up.

“I want to use you again,” the producer tells me.  “You are a natural.”

I thank him.

He hands me my check.  It’s for more than we’d agreed.  I thank him again.

I kiss Jaman goodbye and head out into the early morning hours of the new day.

 

For those who want the link for Trans Male Erotica: http://www.transmaleerotica.com/main.html