No Tell Motel

Detroit—December, 2015

The Cum Hound reached out to me.  We were overdue for a meet.  He thought at first he might drive to the playroom, but it worked out to be easier for me to meet him at our usual sleazy motel in a Detroit suburb.

On the way there, I stopped to see my Dad at his assisted living facility.  There was still a glimmer of recognition as I greeted him.  We quickly slipped into a companionable silence as he now sleeps most of the day away.  I woke him in time for his early lunch and I slipped out while all his attention was switched to his grilled cheese sandwich. 

The motel was not busy.  Yet.  Plenty of parking.  I had brought the sling along.  CH helped me move the table and side chair, making room for it right by the door.  I set it up as he finished in the shower.  I ditched my clothes save for my jock and combat boots.  I watched the TIM porn on his computer.  It made my jock pouch chub nicely.

The bathroom door opened.  “I have two guys coming to load me for you.”  He mentioned a name of a man who has often played with us.  The other was a young Arab—whose cock excited the Cum Hound.  We didn’t wait for them—and a good thing, since neither showed up…

“Get up here and suck my dick.”

The Cum Hound, naked and radiating heat from the shower, crawls between my spread legs.  I push his face into my mounded jock.  He inhales deeply, sighs and begins mouthing the worn and stained fabric.  “Fuck,” he mutters, deep in the back of his throat.  I let him get my cock out—it’s beginning to hurt in the cramped pouch.  He swallows it down hungrily.

“Get it good and wet—it’s all the lube you’re getting.”

CH moans again and I pull out of his mouth. 

“Get on all fours—right by the edge.” 

He does.  I get up off the bed and kneel.  I eat his freshly showered hole.  It’s still sweet and slightly floral from the cheap soap.  I dig in.  CH groans.  I am so horned.  I need a hole.  I stand up and press in.  I slide all the way in in one stroke.  CH clutches a pillow and tells me to fuck him.

I keep a measured stroke.  Increasing it ever so slowly.  Suddenly the sound of my hips on his ass are matching the thumping of the fuck in the video.  I slow down. 

Bend. 

Taste. 

And do it all again.

This time when I pull out, I get up on the bed.  “Clean my cock,” I tell him.  I don’t have to ask twice.  He’s eager to taste his ass juices and my pre-cum.  I let him lap and swallow. 

“Sling.”

The Cum Hound is in it and ready.  He’s one of those men who can get his ankles in the stirrups by himself—and with ease.  I taste his hole again.  He’s a self luber.  His hole is slick and ready.  I stand up and line myself up.

“Fuck me, Sir.”

I move in, agonizingly slow, even to me.  I want to just bang it into his guts. But I don’t for I love watching his eyes as his ass gets fuller and fuller and…I’m home.  I grind into him.

“…So good…” he mutters.  His eyes are now closed—concentrating on the throbbing flesh in his ass chute.  I stay shoved deep and twist his nipples.  He howls and I begin fucking. 

I am keeping a steady drilling going.  He feels great.  In one movement, I pull out and start pissing.  It coats his chest.  CH opens his mouth—but the big stream that would have reached it is now reduced to covering his pubes.

I spend a long time licking it off his upturned ass.  I tongue some into his hole.  I catch the drips off his nuts.  I even suck his cock until it is piss free.  I spit his pre-cum into his hole—and add my cock.

I fuck until the chains rattle.

*****

We break.

He checks his phone and both men have at least cancelled with a note.

We watch the porn. 

I fuck him with the Hound on all fours again.

“Let’s get back in the sling.”  I know he has to either get back to work—or perhaps to his boyfriend.

I eat his hole, stroking all the time.  I really need to blow a load.  I eat and stroke so it will take no time at all.

I rise.

I enter.

Three or four strokes.

I look in his eyes again.  They tell me exactly how much he wants my load.

I erupt...