Chicago—December, 2015
It was that time
again; time to head to Chicago, suck some dick, fuck some hot ass and drink a
ton of piss. It was the December piss
party in Chicago. I took the sling, picked
up Ryan on the way and headed into the city.
We set the sling up in the back corner, as usual, and changed into our
jocks and boots. It was odd to see the bar
in full light as the organizers finished getting the plastic taped up to
protect the bar and the pictures on the wall.
At 5pm the lights dimmed and the men started to stream in---every pun
intended…
The plastic wading pool is getting a work out. The first pig to strip naked has jumped right
in. Every man who enters seems to stop
there and unload on him before getting undressed and getting more to drink from
the bar. The pig is in heaven, wallowing
in the various streams. He drinks some,
lets some splash down his chest. He
arches up when another stream hits him from behind. He revels in the hot liquid running down his
ass crack. Ten minutes into the party
and he has had 15 guys hose him down. He
rolls around in the excess, until a playmate joins him, and they get down to
sucking each other’s cocks while sitting in the puddle.
I am leaning against the bar, drinking my Gatorade. I hadn’t added much to the scene. I am not nearly as hydrated as I
thought. It’s so hard to time it as you
drive into the city. You don’t want to
drink too much too soon and be caught in Chicago traffic with an over full
bladder. I reach around and top up my
bottle with the water in one of the huge insulated jugs sitting on the
bar. It is cool, not iced, and I can
feel it go right through my system.
I move into the shadows behind the back screen, near the
sling. I’m soon joined by a big bear of
a man who I recognize from countless parties.
I sit on the ledge and spread my legs.
He hunkers down between them and begins an expert blow job. It is the perfect way to start the
night. He knows better than to work to
get me off. He takes his time and soon
the blood is engorging my dick. It swells
to fill my old metal cock ring.
Once he’s gotten me good and hard, he moves to my balls. They are soon wet and sopping, the hair
matted. Then he goes under my balls—to my
not so secret place.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Get
your tongue between the ring and my balls.”
He does. It’s wonderful. It makes me so hard I can’t even think about
pissing for the moment. I wait until he
stands up—his beer can of a dick waggling at me. I stand, too.
I concentrate and send a few jets of piss spewing out over his
cock. He sighs. I sink to my knees and clean his cock of my
piss.
And then his second piss load of the night goes down my
throat.
After a little more mutual sucking we go our separate ways
and do it again with someone else.
*****
I am by the sling. I
have not been able to convince the Latino who loves to be rimmed to get into
it. I do by the end of the night, but
for the moment he demurs. He simply
bends in the corner and lets me tongue fuck his hairy hole. And cover it with piss.
When he asks for a break I see a new arrival at the bar,
ordering a soda. It’s Bryant—who I used
to call Red Trunks in these pages, named for a favorite pair of underwear that saw
many a piss party. I go over to him and
run my hand down the hairy crack revealed by his new ass-less briefs with a “Hey,
stranger.”
He turns. “Hey, you.” He kisses me and gives the bulging pouch of
my jock a friendly squeeze. I look at
him. He’s tan from his travels—all 5’8”
of him. He looks even younger than his
33 years with his time away.
We talk about our lives, his trip and our favorite fucks
since we saw each other last as we move to the sling. Bryant grabs a stirrup and rattles the
chains. “You brought it.”
“I did—hoping you might be here.”
He doesn’t answer; he just puts his drink down and hops
in. “Open me up, stud. I’ve missed your dick.”
I fall to my knees and lick his ass crack. I poke my tongue as deeply as I can into
him. He must have just walked in—he’s
fresh from a shower. I can never decide
if I like to get to him first or after he’s been loaded. Anytime I can eat his ass, it’s fine with me.
Just as I’m about to stand and fuck, some man comes along
and hoses Bryant’s crack while my mouth is right there. I tongue fuck his hole so it is even wetter. Bryant is calling me a pig and urging me to
get my dick in him.
I stand. I know to go
slowly. He opens—but it takes concentration
from both of us—him to relax and me to not push too fast. Once I’m balls deep, I stop and hold it. I look right into his handsome face. I know he’ll give me a sign when he’s
ready. I can feel his super tight hole
relax. Bryant’s grimace relaxes, too. “Fuck
me. I want this hole destroyed.”
I am ready to do my part.
I fuck.
I pull out and piss on his chest.
I fuck.
I eat his hole again, savoring his copious ass lube.
I let another man fuck him.
I taste the hole again.
I enter him. Bryant
pisses himself with a groan that can be heard throughout the bar.
I fuck him until he stops pissing and let a third man get
his dick in him.
Bryant is loaded. I
eat a little and fuck the rest deeper into him.
He calls me a cum pig.
I stand up, lean across him and snowball some of the man’s load
into Bryant’s mouth to shut him up.
We kiss deeply.
It’s early in the evening, but I know where I want to plant
my load.
My cock enters him again…and again…
