Wednesday, July 9, 2014

"Call Me Anything You Want" Part One

Ann Arbor--March, 2014

We had been talking about a hook-up for over a year.  It had never happened as it always seemed that he was available when I was working out of state or in the summer months when work made play all but impossible.  And then there was the distance.  Not terribly far, but enough to make us both think twice.

But I certainly wanted to meet.  He was 34, 5’ 11” and, from the pictures, had a hard, trim body.  His dark brown pecs made my cock jump.  His cock—which I guessed I would hardly see—was big and his final picture showed an amazing bubble of an ass.

By late March, it looked like we could make it work.  He wrote me he could come as far as Ann Arbor (about half way) and get a cheap motel.  He asked if I’d bring the sling and rimseat.  I agreed.  He reminded me he wanted me to be aggressive and verbal.  “Tie me up.  Call this Black Boy anything you want.  I love to have my White Daddies call me…names.” 

Ok, he used the word I won’t write here.  Now, while I won’t type it, I can enter into the role play of it all—if I know that it is something the man I’m with wants to hear.

I arrived right on time.  I knocked on his door.  He let me in, naked but for a black jock. 

“Kneel.”  He did as he was told.

The room was small, the bed filling most of the room.  There was no way the sling was fitting in here. 
“Now stay.”

I went back to the car, leaving the door slightly ajar—leaving him to potential exposure—while I got the rimseat.  I’d seen enough of his ass in those brief moments that I knew he’d be sitting on my face.

“Stay right there, boy.”  He starts to look up at me.  “Head down.”  I dig in my bag.  I find the wrist restraints, the ankle restraints and the spreader bar.  “Now stand.”  I buckle one around each of his wrists.  I clasp them together.  He is standing, head bowed, right at the foot of the bed.  Waiting for me to really touch him.

I take my time stripping down to my yellow jock.  I lace up the boots.  Slowly.  Letting the tension in the room build.  I walk behind him.  My hand pushes into the cleft of his ass cheeks, which are hairier than I expect.  He gasps. 

“This ass is gonna be mine.”

I push him down on the bed.  He can’t catch himself with his hands secured, he just lands face down in the covers.  I pull his ass cheeks apart as I kneel.  “Open that hole, Black boy.”  My tongue invades him.  He has showered, but I’ve been making him sweat.  I burrow deep.  I tongue him and spit.  His hole is tight.  The boy is moaning and pleading into the bunched bedspread for me to stick my raw cock in him.  I stand.  I spit in my hand and slather it on my cock head.  I don’t do any more than try to push the head in.  He’s very tight.  It takes me three tries, but I make it.  I just hold—no thrust at all.  I pull it out.

“Taste your ass, fag boy.”  I move up on the bed.  I lift his head from the covers and force my cock into his mouth.  I hold him by the ears and use his mouth like a masturbatory toy.  Up and down on my ever expanding cock.  I hold him down on it until his eyes water, calling him names under my breath.

I let him up for air.  He gasps.  His face is radiant. 

I roll him over onto his back. 

“Get your legs in the air.”  I fasten a restraint around each ankle.  I click the spreader bar into the D rings on the leather strapping.

I get the blindfold on him.  I pull his hips and pull him to the edge of the bed.  “Grab the bar.”  He gropes blindly for a moment before he can find it.  When he does, he pulls tight.  His hips roll back and his ass is at the perfect angle for me to fuck. 

I spit on his hole and enter him.  Roughly.

“That’s a tight hole, boy.  I wonder if it will be when I’m done?”

I slap my cock onto his upturned ass.  I love the color contrast.

“Give it to me hard, Sir.”

I spit on my cock and shove it in.  All the way home.

“ARGH!”   He pants.  I hold for a moment.

He grunts again, softer this time, deep in his throat.

I begin to pull it out.

I get about half way before I pound it back in.   And again.  I am rocking the bed with the force of my fucking. 

Eventually, I slow. And pull it out.  I kneel by his head.  “Clean my dick.”

Does he hesitate?  No, he opens wide, but I cuff him lightly and tell him to act like he wants my ass slick dick.  He opens wider yet and I let his pink tongue clean me off. 

I pull out of his mouth and spit in it.

“Relax.”  I grab the bar and let his legs come down.  I keep the blindfold on him, so he can’t see what I’m doing.  I make some noise as I set up the rimseat, letting the legs clank as I put it together.  I shake out a towel with a snap, then fold it around the pillow.  I let the seat close with a bang.

“I want to taste what I’ve done to your ass, boy.”  I lean in and get the blindfold off of him, then the bar off his ankles.  I help him off the bed.  “Sit down once I’m in place.”  I crawl in.  “Now lower the seat.”  He waits a moment and does what I tell him.  “Sit down, boy.  I want to taste that Black fuck hole.”

Again he hesitates.  He straddles the seat and lowers himself onto my face.  My mouth opens to meet his furry crack.  My fucking has made him incredibly wet.  I harden my tongue and ream him deeply.  He groans above me and I swallow his ass juice.

Much later.

The boy is bent over, holding on to the washstand in the room.  I am fucking him as he looks into the mirror.  He can’t take his eyes off me standing behind him and pumping my cock into his battered hole.  Abruptly, I pull out. 

“Clean up my cock,” I mutter.

He does, swabbing it down with his tongue.

“And the balls.”

This is new.  He has barely touched them in the hour or so I’ve been using him.  He caresses them with his tongue, but it’s a hard angle for him to do it right.  I move backward and sit on the corner of the bed. 

“Kneel.”  And he does.  He worships the hairy sacs. 

All around them. 

And under them.

He starts working his tongue down towards my ass.

I sit up.  “Who told you to go there?”  He babbles, confused.  “Do it right.  Get under here.”  I step over him and raise the seat of the rimseat. 

“Yes, Sir.  I want to eat your hole out.”  He crawls into place. 

I lower the seat, but I don’t sit.  I am standing astride him.  “Open your mouth, faggot.”

He does.  And I let fly with a stream of piss.

He gasps and gurgles and swallows almost all of it.

“YES, Sir!”

“Now eat my ass.”  I sit and let his thick tongue lick at my pucker.  He groans as he works deeper.  His passion makes me groan, too.

A knock at the door.

I stand.  “What the fuck…?”

I look down at him.  Questioningly.

“It must be my Master…”

More to come….


  1. You are such a popular attraction! No wonder out of towners hunt you down. It's been awhile. I miss your adventures. Thank you for sharing. - Uptonking from Wonderland Burlesque

    1. Well, I miss your comments, too. Of course, this makes me sound something like a ride at Cedar Point or Six F(l)ags Over FP.....but come to think of it, I kind of like the sound of that....