Northwest Indiana—October, 2015
I desperately needed
some non-oral play. I love to suck
cock—but dammit, I needed to fuck. From
out of nowhere I got a message from the sub I had met for the first time when I
worked in this area last year. We’d
played twice: once when I crawled through his window to “rape” him with another
top and again in his basement. I’d lost
his contact info—but he wrote me out of the blue. No crawling through his window this year. He wanted a more formal Dom/sub scene. A
rough fuck.
“I’ve bought more
toys…” he told me. He wasn’t lying. I got to his farmhouse, and we went down to
his basement play area. Dildos and
restraints were on three different tables.
His sling hung from the rafters.
He had put a tarp under the sling.
“Piss here,” he murmured, pointing at it. “And I don’t care about that old chair.” Now he pointed to a once over-stuffed chair,
now in tatters. “You could piss on me
there too.”
I changed into my
leathers away from the set-up, over in the shadows by an ancient furnace. As I walked back into the play area, he
knelt. He’d shed his bathrobe and was
wearing nothing but very tall boots and a Neoprene jock, edged in red. He looked good. 5’8”, still very tan, not worked out, but
nicely fit. His dark hair was buzzed
short.
I stood in front of
him for a long moment. Silent. I picked up a wrist restraint. “Give me your left arm…”
He’s trussed to his chains hanging from the rafters. Normally they support his sling, at this
moment they are supporting him. Leather
restraints are on his wrists. He’s not
going anywhere. And I am flogging his
back and ass. Ten strokes in, I stop and
check in with him.
“You doin’ ok, boy?”
“Yes, Sir. You can
hit me harder, Sir.”
I rub my hand down his back and along his ass crack. “It’s not about hurting you. Not for me.
I don’t want to mark you—just want to get the blood circulating, warming
you.” And invariably, it makes a horny
man even more so.
I run the handle of the flogger down his ass crack and work
his hole with it. He moans deep in the
back of his throat. I step back. Two strokes to his back. Two to his ass. Repeat.
He’s writhing now. Especially
when I hit his ass. I concentrate on
that.
Finally I stop. His
cheeks are a fiery red. But no skin is
broken. I move behind him—pressing my
front to his heated back. He groans
again as I hold him. And I start
pissing. I’m taller, so I’m above his
ass. It cascades down over his flaming
butt cheeks. He grinds against me. I have to really concentrate to keep the piss
flow going.
I step back. “Now
arch your back. Thrust that dripping red
ass out there.”
He does. It’s a hot,
hot sight. I get on my knees and clean
off every drop of piss with my tongue. I
am rock hard. I enter him for the first
time that night. Pretty much all of
it. One thrust. He howls—but it’s in bliss not pain.
I fuck him hard, with all my pent up frustration.
I fuck him until he gasps out a “Thank you…Sir…”
*****
I have fucked him in the sling. I have pissed on his chest while I did it—arcing
some up to his mouth, but mostly covering his chest before driving my cock back
into him. I have used an array of toys
on him. Big. Small.
Oddly shaped. Each has stretched
his hole, getting it ready for my hand.
I help him out of the sling to stretch. I also make him kneel. He does.
“Now taste your ass on my dick.”
He swallows me down. He only
pulls off my shaft to clean my balls every bit as thoroughly. I piss again.
Directly in his mouth. He gurgles
it down happily. It’s coming so fast
that he can’t swallow quite fast enough and piss splashes on my boots.
“Clean them,” I tell him.
He is down on all fours, tonguing my boots to a true spit shine.
“Stay there.” I move
around and get in the sling. “Now eat my
ass.” He attacks my hole. Truly attacks—it hurts, he’s so hungry. I tell him to slow down and savor—not devour. That does the trick. He makes my ass crack sodden. I even manage to piss—letting it spurt up in
the air and then down over his face and my ass crack. He licks me clean, thanking me endlessly…
*****
I have a big toy up his butt. He is small framed. I worry about getting my medium sized hand in
him. I pull out the toy and grease both
hands. Surprisingly, my right—the slightly
bigger hand—worms into him the first time he hits the poppers.
Then my left.
I can’t get much depth—but he loves the stretch of my palm
and the snap of his ass closing around my wrist.
I do it again and again.
Left. Right. Left…
*****
It’s late.
“I need to get off, boy.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Where do you want me to shoot?”
“Anywhere you want, Sir.”
“In your ass?”
“Yes, sir. Breed my
piss cunt, Sir.”
“Yeah? You like cum
in your ass?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I want you to push it out later. And eat it.”
“Yes, Sir. Gladly,
Sir. Give it to me.”
I pull my dick out and slap the pouch of his jock with
it. I bend and taste his hole one last
time. I rise up, slip it into his gape
and let go. He squeezes down on my dick so
that I think it might snap off. He milks
every drop, as I grab onto the chains and hang on…
Indeed, when I am
washing up in his bathroom upstairs, I notice that the tiny blood vessel on the
top of my dick has broken leaving a red mass under the skin.
A rough fuck, indeed.