Bryant Gets Wet

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…