My Playroom, September, 2015
Kurt was coming back to the playroom. This is the man who takes the largest toys with ease and my arm up to the elbow. He is an insatiable piss drinker. I knew there was one thing he wanted—that I had yet to give him: being able to piss while he ate my ass in the sling. Try as I might, I could never get the plumbing working with his tongue in my ass.
I began to hydrate. I always do at least an hour before a piss hook up—this time I started a full two hours before he was due to walk through my door…
He’s here. And stripping off, stowing his stuff in the tall dresser reserved for the trick’s clothes so they are out of the way.
“I want you to use me as hard as you can.”
I agree with him.
“And I brought you this.” Kurt pulls out a small bottle from his pants pocket before he shuts them in the drawer. “It’s about 12 cum loads of mine. Use it for lube.” Without waiting, he crosses to the fuck bench and gets up on it. I move behind him. My bladder is so full my cock won’t stand up—even with a hairy butt asking for it. I wait until he’s huffed some poppers—then I unleash my piss all over his ass. He groans and calls me a dirty fucker. I don’t rim much with Kurt. It’s something about the dynamic we have. I reach for his bottle of cum and open it. It’s pungent and fills the room. I am guessing it came out of the freezer too early in the day and has slightly spoiled. But it’s slick. It makes my dick go into his ass with ease.
I fuck him. As hard as I can. Hips slamming ass. But never as hard as he wants. I pull out, wondering if he will clean my cock with the slightly off jizz. No issues there. He swallows me down ravenously. I fuck his mouth, pull out and go back to fucking his ass. This time I apply the leather paddle as I ram my dick into him. This does the trick. He loves the sting and the sound of the leather meeting wet skin.
He cleans me again.
I pour more jizz on my dick and fuck it into his slowly gaping hole. He is not the muscle hole of most of my fistees. When he relaxes, it’s harder for him to tighten it back down. The paddle is helping that. He contracts his hole involuntarily with every thwack on his ass.
I bring my dick to his mouth.
“There’s so much cum on your dick…” he mumbles before he takes it deep into his mouth. He takes me to the root. I stand still and clench my ass muscles, making my cock head expand so it fills his throat. I hold it for a moment---then pull out and go right back to his ass.
I stop mid fuck and add the last of the cum from the bottle. Twelve loads have now been fucked into his ass and mouth. I slow my fucking and bend to taste the frothy cum around his hole. Actually, I don’t—it’s just soured enough I don’t want it on my tongue—but I’m glad he does. He cleans me again, expertly.
I tell him to get in the sling. Kurt loves to watch me fuck him in the mirror above the sling frame. There is no need to re-lube him.
I fuck. The chains rattle.
I pull out and send a huge arc of piss straight into his face. He’s caught totally by surprise. I’m surprised I have that much force, but love watching his mouth fly open and get as much as he can. The rest mats the hair on his chest.
“I love your piss,” he mumbles as he takes another hit of his cheap poppers.
I go back to fucking.
I need a break. “You want to eat my ass?”
“You know I do,” he tells me as he gets out of the sling.
While he gets some water, I grab an empty Gatorade bottle. I piss into it. I fill it completely with the very pale yellow liquid. Only then do I get into the sling.
“Start easy,” I remind him. “Now, eat my ass.”
I let him lick all around my butt—he’s good, he’s teasing me. I unscrew the bottle top. Just as his tongue is finding my hole, I pour a large dollop of my still warm piss down my ass crack.
It takes a second for him to realize just what I’ve done—but the effect is electric. He is galvanized into cleaning every millimeter of my ass crack of my piss. It doubles his hunger. I let him get his tongue into my hole before I pour more onto my ass, his tongue and face.
He lets out a groan that if I didn’t know him better, I would be sure he was shooting his load. He can’t stop licking me. But he does…just enough to say “I’ve dreamed about this. I…”
Kurt doesn’t get to finish the thought. I pour more piss down my crack and he stops talking. He is at his best—so turned on he just can’t stop. I stroke and stroke. Wet and happy.
The cum and the piss weren’t the only things bottled up.
When I was done fisting him, Kurt lay on the tarp under the sling and jerked out a load that shot over his shoulder. I’d say he needed that…