A Good-bye Group

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Four in the Farm Boy

Kalamazoo—September, 2013

 

I was double booked.  I had accepted an invite to a sex party in the afternoon that I was sure would be cancelled.  For the evening, I had posted an ad on BBRT for others to come to the Lansing bookstore/sex club to help send off a fuckbud of mine who was moving out of state.  He wanted to leave with a full ass.  I wanted to be a good friend and help him with that.  Well, amazingly enough both were a go.  I took off for Kalamazoo first.

I found the house easily—a small bungalow likely built in the 1940’s.  I was the last to arrive. It was hosted by Willie, the man who had posed as my boy for the photo series I called “On the Tracks.” 

(You can find all those pictures by hitting the button labeled just that in the “labels” cloud over to the right.)  Willie let me in.  He was naked except for a cloth jock and athletic socks. Willie is in his mid-forties and hairy.  He loves to invite guys over to have bareback sex.  He’ll suck some cock, but usually does not get fucked or top.
On the couch were three guys.  The first was a chunky Black man I’d had in my playroom to seed other boys.  Like all the men but me, he’s in his mid-forties.  He has a terrific smile and a sizable cock.  Sitting next to him was an otter in a leather harness.  His cock was buried in the bottom’s mouth.  The third man was a guy I’d played with a couple of times, always as a bottom though I knew he was the top in his relationship.  He had a leather harness on, too.  His red jock was pulled to the side, and he was stroking his cock as he chewed on the Otter’s closest nipple.  The bottom of the day was on all fours on the ottoman in front of them.  He pulled off the Otter and started sucking Red Jock as I started shedding clothes in the corner.

“How do you like our bottom?” whispered Willie.  “He’s married, but takes loads.  He wants you all to fuck him.”

I looked at the lanky farm boy on the ottoman.  He was long, lean with a perky butt framed by a white jock.  From what I could tell, since his face was still buried in Red Jock’s crotch, he had craggy good looks and nicely ripped arms.  It would be a pleasure to fuck and seed him…

 

Once stripped to my jock and boots, I fall to my knees behind the bottom.  My tongue goes right up his hairy ass.  His mouth is back on the Black guy.  Red Jock is sucking the Otter while Willie has squirmed around on the floor and is eating Red Jock’s butt.  I sink my tongue as deep as I can into Farm Boy.  He moans around the Black dick in his mouth.  I lick and spit as much spittle as I can get in his ass.

I get up and slap my cock on his butt.  Farm boy reaches back to feel the size of my cock.

Willie is up and jacking now.  “He’s the big one I told you about.” 

The Otter struggles up to look at my dick.  “Damn,” he hisses.

It makes him turn Farm Boy around and enter his butt.  Otter’s average sized cock slides right in with the trail of spit I’ve left in Farm Boy’s ass.  Red Jock has me sit next to him.  He grovels on the floor between my legs and gags on my cock.  He loves to gag.  The sound only makes my cock get bigger.  I watch the fuck happening in front of me.  Farm Boy is in some other space as he huffs poppers and takes Otter’s cock.   Willie is sucking the Black cock.

Red Jock pulls off my cock and climbs up next to me.  I finger his hole.  “Later,” he whispers in my ear. “After I’ve fucked him.”  He gestures to the ottoman.  I simply slide down, pull Red Jock’s legs in the air and begin eating his ass.  I push my tongue into his butt in tempo with the fucking happening behind me.

“Next.”  Otter has pulled out.  I let down Red Jock’s legs.  He scrambles around and enters the fucked hole.  Otter moves around to suck the Black cock.  Willie gobbles down mine.  Which is great—I get to watch Red Jock fuck the Farm Boy.   He’s kept him on all fours.  He pummels his ass at several speeds, occasionally pulling out and spitting on his cock before he drives it back in.

I’m up next.  “Take it, boy,” I grunt.  “Take your third dick.”  This makes him moan into his poppers.  I fuck hard.  But I’m afraid I go too deep.  I’ sure I’m through his second ring.  I pull out.  The Black guy is up him before I can say anything about the shit on my cock.  I go to wash in the kitchen.

When I get back, the Black guy is just pulling out.  He freaks at the amount of shit on his cock.  Willie gets the Farm Boy up to the shower.  The Black guy washes, but is totally out of the moment now.  He dresses and leaves without getting off.

While the bathroom is occupied, Otter says he has to piss.  He asks Willie if there is another bathroom.  Willie points to me.  I hunker down and take the Otter’s piss down my throat.  He’s been drinking something incredibly sweet.  He simply opens the tap and gushes at full speed into my mouth.  “Fuck,” he chuckles, “this is so hot.  Drink my piss, man.”  I swallow.  And swallow faster and faster.  Willie is right there, jerking his cock.  I think he’d like some of it, but with his living room carpet at stake, I can’t pull off and offer him some. Finally the Otter runs dry.  I do a last swallow.  As I do, his semi-soft cock erects.  I suck him down.  “Fuck,” he says again.

We all exchange blow jobs as we wait for Farm Boy.  He comes back, claiming he should be fine now.  The Otter goes back up him once Farm boy is back on all fours on the ottoman.  He fucks hard and fast.  “I’m gonna shoot.”

“On my face,” pleads the Farm Boy.  Otter pulls out but shoots all over his back.  Red Jock mops it up, putting it on his cock and fucks it into Farm Boy.  I clean Otter’s cock.  Willie has moved around so he is in Farm Boy’s mouth.  Suddenly, he pulls out and shoots his load all over Farm Boy’s face.

“I’m shooting,” announces the Red Jock.  He makes no move to pull out.  He seeds the Farm Boy and pumps it deep.

I’m right there to lick him clean…but I can’t.  Farm Boy’s ass has gone bad again.  I can’t fuck a shitty hole, and Farm Boy seems done, perhaps that a load actually ended up in his ass. 

I’m just fine with saving the load for tonight.

 

Next time—the farewell party that night.

Before the Boyfriend Comes Home

My Playroom—September, 2013

I returned from Canada and slowly got back to a my regular fuck schedule.  I was online at the top of the week.  The hot guy I called the Mystery Man when I wrote up our meet in the late spring, contacted me.  He was about to change jobs. Once he began working there, it would be harder for him to give the boyfriend the slip and get in the sling.  We both agreed he should get out here ASAP.  We set a date.  He told me he would text me as he was about to hit the road from Detroit.

I have decent cell phone coverage considering that I believe I live in a rural section of my state.  I was due to get his text about 1:00pm on the day of the meet.  It didn’t come in.  I waited.  I waited for a little longer.  I got online.  He was there.  “Did you get my text?” he asked.  I typed “No.”  And then my phone chirruped at me.  There it was—only 53 minutes after he sent it.  We chatted.  Still time?  We agreed we would now be a little rushed, but we both wanted it.  He did a quick clean out and hit the road.

He looked every bit as good as he did in May.  I still couldn’t come up with his name, but finally asked as I came up from eating his ass.  He grinned and told me.  However, I will always call him the Mystery Man on here to keep it consistent…

I go back to licking his hairy hole.  It is spread wide on the fuckbench. 

“Eat me out, man.  Tongue fuck me.”

I do.  I am going deep and lubing his gorgeous ass with as much spit as possible.  I don’t spend as long as I want eating him out.  We are on a schedule:  to get him home before the BF finishes up with work.  I stand up and insert.

“Fuck, I forgot how big you are.”

“Take my dick.”

“Oh, yeah.  Fuck me deep.”  I am.  I am balls deep already.  “Fuck me raw.”  He clamps down on my raw cock.  “Seed me like my man won’t.” 

Now he’s getting to it.

“He won’t seed this hot ass of yours?” I grunt out.

“He won’t even fuck me bareback.”

I shake my head.  His ass is everything any man could want:  beautiful to look at, but more importantly, talented.

“I’ll seed you every chance we get.”  And I mean it.  Every word.  But not yet.

My balls slap against him.  He grips the supports on the fuck bench until his knuckles are white.  I pull out and slap my cock against his upturned ass.  I bend over and spit on his slick hole.

Mystery Man groans.  I push right back in with my cock.  I marvel that I am fucking such a hot man.  He groans under me.  He reaches under the top part of the bench to feel his hard cock.  I look down—it’s rock hard and pointing at the floor.  I slow my thrusts, pull out and slap his balls with my rock hard penis.  It hits his balls with a loud thwack.  He grunts—and takes his hands away from his dick.

I pull out.  “Let’s do the sling.”

Once he’s situated, I am right back up him.  “Oh, yeah.”  He looks up at the mirror above him.  He has a great view of my hard cock hammering into his ass.  “Fuck me!”  He starts stroking himself again.  He has a great dick himself.  I spit on it.  He grunts and uses it for lube.  “Fucking rape that hole.”  The Mystery Man loves that word.  “Rape my fucking mancunt with that big dick.  Give me your seed.”  He’s stroking harder.

Shit.  I think he’s going to get off.  We’ve barely been fucking for thirty minutes.

“Fuck me,” he moans.  “I want your seed up my ass for the ride home.”

“Say it again,” I tell him.  “Tell me how much you want my load in your mancunt.”

“Yes.  Wet and slimy.”  He strokes himself.  “Dripping.”

“Fuck,” I grunt.  “I am going to shoot a four day load up that ass.”

“YES!”  His cock explodes across his ripped chest.  I reach down and smear his load across his pecs.  I bring the dripping hand up to my mouth.  It’s just enough to get me to shoot.  I fill his hole as promised...

He will have been in the car for just over 4 hours by the time he gets home—for just over thirty-six minutes of sex.  But he got his hole seeded by a big dick.  I got to fuck a hot man.  And I will do it whenever he wants…

The Cellar

Toronto—August, 2013

My trip to Canada was almost over.

Each morning that I was in the Niagara area, I would finish breakfast and go to the public library to take advantage of their internet connection.  There was never anyone online in that area, but guys from Toronto would often chat with me.  There was one man who struck up a conversation with me each morning.  He was fascinated by my screen name and wanted to meet, so I could put both the felching and the pissing into action.  In his hole. 

We had talked enough that I broke down and said I would go home (out of my way) back through Toronto.  He didn’t want to piss at his apartment, so I suggested we meet at the Cellar, the sleaziest of the bathhouses.  He agreed.  I finished up in Niagara by late afternoon, and arrived in TO right on time at 8:00pm.

 

It’s dark in the corridors—so dark I can barely see.  I wind through the dingy halls, turn a corner and finally find my room.  It’s small with the regulation bed, locker and a shuttered gloryhole in the door.  The grilled window in the top of the door, reminding me of a 1920’s speakeasy, is open.  I leave it.  I know I’ll want to show off tonight.

I change into my harness and combat boots.  I’ve told him he’ll find me by the yellow jock.  I arrange my swelling, cock ringed dick into the distended pouch.  I add the leather wrist band to my left wrist.  I get out my travel lube and stick it in the waistband of my jock.  I leave the poppers on the shelf by the bed.  I lock the locker and head out to find the eager Hole.

He’s not there.  I check the time.  He’s 30 minutes late.  I sigh.  And turn my attentions to who has come out on a Thursday night.  Not very many, it turns out.  On a quick cruise through the halls I count about eight men. 

I go to the back hallway.  There is not a trace of light.   I feel my way along the back wall until I bump into someone.  A totally anonymous hand squeezes the bulge in my jock.  I reach out and find a nipple, then it slips away as the mystery man kneels.  He pulls my jock to one side and takes me to the root.  Christ, he’s good.  It’s perfect suction, the perfect amount of tongue.   I find his ears, hold him in place and fuck into his mouth.  He grunts his satisfaction.

Other men reach for me.   I have hands on my chest.  Another on my ass.  I bat away the finger that is trying to squirm up my ass.  A mouth is on my right nipple.  He kisses his way down to kneel beside the cocksucker.  I pull out of one mouth and plunge it into the other.  This new guy is not as good, but I spend quite some time pulling it out of one mouth and feeding it to the other.  The best moment is feeding it to the great cock sucker and letting the other man work on my balls.

When I don’t shoot, the guys eventually move on.  I make a circuit of the facility and end up back in the hallway.  It’s still deserted.  I see a flicker of light in front of me.  A man has opened a gloryhole from his room.  I move forward.  I shove my cock through it.  I am instantly swallowed.  Oh, yeah.  It’s the great cocksucker.  Of course he’d ask for the only room that has a gloryhole opening to the dark area.

We play off and on for most of the night.

There are new arrivals. 

I jerk in wide open video area.  I have several mouths taste my cock out in the open.

I work a public gloryhole sucking two different cocks.

Then the right man walks in.  I don’t see him until he emerges from his room.  His boots clomp toward the video area where I am sitting.  He is mid-30’s, with strong, sharp features and closely cropped dark hair.  He is dressed in chaps and harness.  His biceps are the size that makes me feel weak.  Our eyes lock.  I get up and go to my room.  He follows me. 

We kiss, leaving the door open.  He begins chewing my pits, made fragrant from all the play.  Then it’s back to kissing me with that acrid taste on his tongue. 

“Get on the bed,” I say hoarsely.

He does.  On all fours.  His full ass perfectly framed by the chaps.  I kneel behind him and sink my face into that ass. It’s totally hairless.  I dig into his pucker.  He groans.  I grab the poppers off the shelf and toss them to him.  I can hear him huff and I drill my tongue as deep as possible into him.

I stand up and slap his ass with my cock.  “Wait,” he grunts out.  I stop.  “I want to eat your hole first.”  I pull him up.  We kiss.  He loves the taste of his ass on my tongue.  He pushes me down on the bed, on my back.  My feet rest flat against the wall.  He kneels and spits on my asshole.  He scoops it up and swallows it down.  It’s my turn to huff the poppers.  His tongue drills me.  I go very verbal, calling him names and telling him to eat me.  Faces appear at the door to stroke and watch.

My partner stands up.  He has a raging hard-on.  For a moment I think he wants to fuck me.  But he pulls me up and kisses me.  Then he whispers in my ear, so the guys watching can’t hear.  “Fuck me raw—but cum on my face.”

I nod.  He gets back on all fours.  I rim briefly, but I want into his ass.  It doesn’t disappoint.  He’s hot and wet.  And tight.  He squeezes down.  I wonder if I’m going to be able to keep my promise to not shoot up his hole.  I press into him slowly.

“Fuck him,” says someone in the door.

I start my accelerated fuck.  He is groaning, hitting the poppers.  His hard cock is being worked by his hand. 

I fuck him hard.  The guys in the door egg us on.

It’s by chance that I notice that he’s shot all over the floor of my room and on the toe of my boot.    He wiggles out from under me and flips onto his back.  He spins around, so his head is under my cock.  I push my cock, which was moments ago in his ass, into his mouth.  His drooling dick, spits more cum into his pubes.  I pull out of his mouth and jerk.  The first splatter hits his chest, but the next one I can direct into his wide open mouth.  I cover his nose, chin, and tongue.

I lean against the wall, my lungs gasping for air.  My partner sits up, looks at me and brings his cummy mouth to mine.  We kiss.

I look over by the door.  No one is there now.   But there are two distinct pools of cum on the black linoleum.

The Man on the Bicycle

On the shore of Lake Ontario—August, 2013

 

The cruise park where I have always hung out whenever I visit the Niagara wine country, was anything but crowded the week I was there.  I saw one naked sunbather.  We talked, with him spread eagled before me on an old Army blanket, as he told me how he attracted women and then got them into the woods.  (For the record, he was 65+, with a large belly.)  The other visitors to the recreation area were a few families, young straight couples, and lots of dog walkers.  I think I saw one other guy cruising, but he had no interest in me.

And there was the guy on the bicycle.

I was sitting in my car, reading, for it had rained the night before and the grass was wet.  He glanced at me as he passed in front of me and made a wide U-turn to park right next to me. 

“Hello,” he gushed.  “You’re back.”

I nodded.  He looked vaguely familiar.  I’m sure I must have done something with him sometime.

“The park has changed,” he told me.  “There are so few people here nowadays.”

“Is it police?  Rangers?”

“No,” he said shook his head. “There’s no money for them to be out here.”  He looked out at the lake.  “Guys just don’t seem to come out here anymore.  Or at least guys who want to play with me.”

I looked at him again.  I guessed he was anywhere from 60 to 70.  His clothes were expensive—tan slacks and a pin striped shirt.  The shoes were a top of the line exercise shoe.  His thinning hair was occasionally caught in the breeze off the lake.  All in all, he reminded me a literature teacher I had in school except there was no bowtie.  I looked down at the fingers gripping the handlebars.  There was a gold band on his left hand that seemed to dwarf his ring finger. 

James remembered everything about my visit in 2011.  We’d played in the woods on two different days.  Once, he reminded me, we had sucked each other off.  Another time I had refused to let him bother with my cock while I’d taken his cum.  I remembered him not from the sex, but from his conversational style and good humor—and his need to have some gay man actually listen to him.  The park seemed to be the only connection he had with anyone queer.  And now even that limited exposure was drying up.

“So do you want me to suck you?”  It sounded so blunt after all the other chat.  It did stop James as he was beginning a new topic.

“I can’t today.  I’m late for dinner now.  Meatloaf.  How about tomorrow?  About 5:00?”

I agreed.  James pedaled off with a quick wave—and headed home down the rutted road to his wife’s meatloaf.

But he didn’t show up the next day.  And neither did anyone else.

The day after that,  he was parked again by my car.  “I’m so sorry.  Yesterday I had some sort of stomach flu.  Or food poisoning.  But I’m fine now.”

I refrained from asking if it was the meatloaf.

He pointed to the wooded area where most men played.  He was eager.  He was also in easy access exercise clothes.  We pushed our way through the undergrowth until we were lost from view—not that there was anyone there to view us.

 

“You are so handsome.”

I thank James, though I don’t particularly believe him. 

He has pulled his maroon running shorts down and is stroking his distended cock.  I unbuckle my belt as he feels my mound of dick through my jeans.  I push the pants down right along with the underwear so my hard cock juts out.  His fist wraps around it.  He gives it two or three strokes with his soft hands.  Then he bends at the waist and takes a third of it into his mouth.

He is all tongue action.  It feels good but I want to go deeper into his mouth.  I thrust once and he gags.  I pull out and sink to my knees.  I take him to the root on the first swallow.  He gives a grunt of satisfaction.  His soft hands trace patterns on my ears.  He tells me how good it feels.  How long it’s been since anyone did this to him.

He doesn’t blow instantly, like I thought he might.  But it doesn’t take too much to make him cum.  He shoots down my throat.  I swallow his thick load.  He pulls out the ubiquitous fast food napkin from a shirt pocket and mops up the little I don’t clean off his cock.

And we talk.  Well, he does mostly.  About what he’d like to do with me in a bed.  We both know it won’t happen—he has a wife at home and I have a sleeping bag on an air mattress.  He talks about watching his teenaged students in class.  (I was right—he is a teacher.)  How free they seem to him.  How he has a kid, openly gay at 15, in one of his classes.  James says he can’t imagine being that open.  Ever.  Much less that young. 

He finds his bicycle.   He wants my Squirt screen name—a service I rarely use—but it’s big, he tells me, in Canada.  I give it to him.

With a last wave, James pedals out of the park.

I stay in the woods a moment more.  I could have so easily gone down his path 35 years ago.   I was trained to teach; expected to have a wife.  I smirk at myself, realizing I even have the bowties. 

But I took a different path.  Something, at this very moment, I’m glad I did.

I step out of the woods and into the first sunshine in the last three days.

Daddy in the Sling

Fort Erie, ON—August, 2013

 

My trip to Canada took me into the Niagara wine country after my night at Steamworks.  I pitched my tent, napped, caught up on some reading, and let the night of debauchery be enough sex for a couple of days.  By mid-week I was horned and in need.  The local cruisy park had yielded no fun at all. I packed a lunch and went to spend the day at an older gay sauna which had a terrific sun deck on top of the building.  By the time I arrived there, it was wet and rainy for the rest of the day. 

There have been a number of improvements to the old building since a major chain had purchased it.  The steam room was cleaner.  I had forgotten they’d added a dry sauna.  The rooms in general were neater now.  Windows, which had been in many of the small rooms, were covered over.  There were two porn lounges and a regular lounge.  But best of all, a sling and slurp ramp had been added in what had once been a storage area.  The issue was that very few men from upstate New York came to the sauna anymore.  There was a time when men crossed the bridge to Canada in droves to get off away from home.  Now, they found it harder to do so with the new border restrictions.  I was the only one there as I checked in.  I set rules for myself.  I would watch a little porn, read my book and do a blog entry.  I could still have a good time if no one showed up.  But the book remained untouched and only half an entry got written…

 

I am in the steam room, sitting on the well-worn wooden bench, when I hear the door to the shower area bang shut.  I listen for him to come in the steam room door, but the man spends a long time showering.  I pull the rope hanging from the ceiling.  Steam billows out from below the bench.  I become invisible in the steam, and revel in the heat it is producing.  Eventually the new customer pushes through the door and into the clouds of steam.

He almost sits on me, thanks to all the steam.  He apologizes.  He sits very close.  Even then, I can’t really see him.  It’s not until he stands up and pushes a thick, uncut cock into my face I can see him at all.  He’s older than I, with grey hair in a military cut.  His body once was defined and hard, though it’s softening now.  He grabs my ears, tells me to “Suck it, boy” and pumps a load into my mouth within the first 6 strokes.  He leaves for the showers.  He spends a long time washing my saliva off his cock.

I let him leave before I shower.  I dry off and watch a little porn.  It’s a bare video, which surprises me.  No one else has arrived.  I get out the lap top, sit in the ‘real’ lounge by the entrance door and begin to type.  The door buzzes.  A married dad comes in.  Well, a married dad with his kids just out of college.  He’s shorter than me by a head.  He looks very preppy in khaki’s and a wet windbreaker.  He is clean shaven, with dark hair turning the classic grey at the temples.  He heads for the locker area.  I take the computer back to my room and head back to the steam room.

He’s there by the time I get back downstairs.  He wastes no time going down on me.  He’s good.  He can’t get over my size.  But he knows how to work a big dick.  I return the favor on his much more average sized cock.

We break, sitting and talking as the steam disperses.

“Do you actually fuck guys with that?” he asks.

“All the time.”

“I’d love to try it, but I don’t think….”

“You know there’s a sling.  It would help you relax, by letting you just float there.”

“I’ve never done that.  But I love getting fucked by regular sized guys.”

“Come on….” I get up and head out to the showers, as if it’s all decided, that he’ll follow me to get fucked.  And he does.

We walk into the sling room.  A stolen road sign sits in the corner:  Raised Manholes.

I get him into the sling.  He likes how his suspended legs feel.  When I start eating his ass, he starts babbling a string of sex talk.  I finally stand up and fuck his face to shut him up. 

I lick his ass a little more.  I unroll a Magnum, at his request, and work my covered cock into his ass.  “Oh, fuck that hurts.”  I hold still.  “Slowly.”  I begin to withdraw.  “Oh, man.  Just take that God damned rubber off.”  I do.  I enter him.  Easily.  Smoothly.  And it feels great for both of us.  “Damn.  I did it.  I took that big cock of yours.”  I am really pumping into him now.  He starts talking nasty again.

But it’s not me who shuts him up.  Other guys have arrived for the noon hour.  The first one in is a guy who I guess is just touching 40.  He’s fit, blond and judging from a sizable, curved erection, he likes what he sees in the sling room.  He pushes past me and sticks his dick in the Dad’s mouth.  At almost the same moment, I feel a hand reach under me and feel up my balls.  Then the unknown man feels the base of my cock.  “You’re fucking him raw,” he whispers in my ear.  I turn enough to see a much younger guy.  Maybe late 20’s.  Maybe from somewhere in the Mediterranean from the look of his olive skin and shiny black hair.  I nod.  He presses his very hairy chest against my back.  His fingers are on my nipples.  I can feel his hardening cock in my ass crack. 

“You want to fuck him?” I ask.

He nods.  The Dad grunts a yes around the curved dick, and the Greek enters him.  The Curve turns to me.  We kiss.  And we can’t stop.  Our tongues battle.  I feel a hand on my ass again.  It’s the Greek.  He pulls out of Dad. 

“Who wants him next?”

I look to the Curve.  I think he really wants to, but says “no.”   I slip back up Dad.  The Greek brings his cock to Dad’s mouth.  The Curve moves behind me.  I wait for his hand on my ass—but I get his tongue.  It’s awkward, as I’m thrusting, but I let him lick me as best he can.   Finally, I lean forward— onto the Dad— and let the Curve’s tongue invade my ass.  At the same time, the Greek pulls out of Dad’s mouth the thrust’s his thick uncut dick in my mouth. 

It’s too much attention for the Dad, he starts thrusting his cock against my abs.  He groans and shoots, underneath me, coating my stomach.  I reluctantly stand up and pull out.  The Greek grabs his cock, jerks it furiously and shoot across the Dad’s chest.

The Curve stands up and kisses me again.  Now he tastes like my ass.  I turn around and hold onto him.  Tight.  We kiss—all the while the spent men head for the showers.

“I really need to taste your ass,” I tell the Curve.  He nods.  “Get in the sling.”

He does.  I kneel and lick down his crack.  I find his pucker and push in.  He groans.  And tells me to eat him out.  I lick and drill.  I stand up and lean across him to kiss him.  He sucks my tongue hungrily.  I go back to his hole.

He can’t stay still.  He bucks against my face.  “Please,” he pants.  “Let me eat you.” 

I get back in the sling. 

He eats my ass for what seems like hours. 

He stands up, leans across me and kisses me.   As our tongues connect, I can feel his cum gush over my cock and down my crack.

“Clean that up,” I tell him.

“YES, SIR.” 

He does.

“Now kiss me…” 

He does that, too.

****

I play with a few other new arrivals in the next hour.

I take a break and lie on my bed, leaving the door to the room open.

The Curve is suddenly there.

“Get on the bed,” I tell him.  “No, not on your back—on all fours.” 

He does.

I kneel, pull his hairy cheeks apart and bury my entire face in his ass...

************
Addenda  10/23/13

Out of the blue, a man wrote me on BBRT from Toronto, saying I looked familiar.  It was the former clerk of the sauna who I fucked and bred last year.  He told me that the chain who bought it and remodeled it have closed it.  There was not enough traffic.  It will be missed...

A Night at Steamworks

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Fluid Pig and the Cum Harvest

My Playroom—August, 2013

As August wound down, my house went back to being all mine.  My playroom was back up within 24 hours of waving farewell to the last of the departing guests.  I pieced the padded floor to go under the equipment, with the plastic underneath it.  The fuck bench was erected, the sling assembled and the rimseat was in place, awaiting the first hot ass I could snare.

I was lucky enough to snare the Fluid Pig.  He is back in my area.  I wrote about him here.  We talked for a good five days before he arrived.  He was staying in Ann Arbor the night before.  We texted after his play session that night.  He: “7 loads today and managed not to cum, oink!  My balls are going to explode when you shove your big cock in my hole tomorrow.  I hope I can concentrate at work.”  I wrote back:  “I know you like multiple guys.  I can’t get many good tops out here, but I promise you more loads than your seven of today.”  He wanted to know more.  I refused to tell him…

 He looks great.  He is over six feet.  He has trimmed some of his fur, but it looks good enough for my tongue to get lost in.  And that ass…The Pig doesn’t wait for an invite or instruction.  He just gets on the fuckbench.  His ass is big and full.  His jock is black, with a couple of white stripes on the pouch.  I sink to my knees and stick my tongue up that hole that took so much cock the day before.  He groans.  He reaches back and spreads his ass for me.  I snap a pic. 

I lick.  My tongue goes deep.  But I don’t spend as long as usual.  I need to get my cock into him.  He huffs poppers the moment I stand up.  He tells me to fuck him hard.  I enter in one continuous thrust.  I fuck hard, the sound of my hips on his butt filling the room.

“Let me taste your hole, now.”

I drop to my knees again, hitting the padded floor.  (Nice!)  He is a great self luber.  I lick some out and swallow.

“Now,” I tell him, “I have some cum for you.”

I open the cooler.  I have a card filled with filled condoms.  They are knotted shut and taped to it with a few notes below each one.

“From the moment I knew you were coming, I went to the bookstore on two different occasions.” 

The Pig looks over his shoulder at the card.  “Damn…”

I pull the red condom off the card.  I rip open the knot and hold it against his ass. 

He shivers at the frozen nugget on his hole.  “You wanted extra men.  I sucked some guys off at the bookstore.  This guy was a plump red head.  He shot almost the moment he put it in my mouth.”  I turn the condom inside out and push the cum nugget up his ass, knuckle deep.  My dripping cock pushes it the rest of the way home.  It is melting fast, and is coating his ass canal.  It feels amazing, slightly cool at first, then heating up with the friction of the fuck.

“Let’s do the sling.”  We change over.  I need to piss.  I hose down his ass crack.  He grunts and huffs.  I lick him clean.  Then I pull out the card again.

“This black condom is the cum of a guy I can’t even picture anymore.  I just noted that his cock was thick.”  I repeat the process, shoving it deep into his gut.  I fuck this new load into him.  My cock is coated with cum when I pull out.  I wipe it off and finger it back into his hole.  I fuck it into place.  When I pull out, I start pissing on his jock pouch.  It pools onto his stomach.  I smear it over his chest.  I lick down his dripping ass crack.  I felch some of the two loads in him.  I kiss him, snowballing some cum.

“Fuck, I’ve never had a snowball from my ass.” 

I’m back into the cooler.  I pull out the card.  I open the orange condom.

“This is three loads from my second trip to the bookstore.  They are all older dads.  All men you wouldn’t look at twice if you met them.  Guys you would never let breed you—but that’s what they are going to do.”  I push the loads into him.  He is moaning, and calling me names.  And so turned on that his hard cock is poking out of his jock.  I fuck the three dads into his gut.

The next condom is really full.

“It’s only from two guys.  One was an annoying fucker who was thrilled I’d suck him off.  The big load in there is from this straight guy who came to the bookstore directly from his coaching job, still in his gear.  He smelled of sweat in the best way.  He made me stop anytime anyone was around.  I finally got him off—he shot this huge load.”  I work it in with finger and dick.

“There are your seven loads—just like you had last night.”

“So hot.  You can put anything up my hole.”

“Good.”  I rip the final condom off the card.  “This is one I just picked up off the floor there.  Nice and full for you.”

“Shit…”

I fuck it home before he can say anything else.  His hole is just dripping jizz.  I fuck and fuck, churning the cum, making it froth.

“Get up.  Rimseat time.”

I get under it.  I steal a hit of poppers from him.  Then he sits, his ass filling the seat.  I lick at the salty froth I’ve made.  I swallow and probe deeper.  He opens.  The cum begins to drip into mouth.  It’s been there once before. And now it is again, straight from his ass.  I lick and slurp.  I stop jerking my own dick for fear of wasting my load.  I tap his thighs.  “Up.”

He gets back on the bench and I enter him.  He knows I’m close.  He reaches down under himself and strokes his cock, hoping to relieve those blue balls of his.  I fuck.  I shoot.  In three or four strokes, so does he. 

“I’m load nine,” I grunt.  I pull out, scoop up some of his load off the floor and push it in. “And yours is load ten…