Monday, April 18, 2016

The Coat Check Otter

Chicago—January, 2016

After Marco left for home on January 3rd, I did not want or need to play for several days.  I thought about going to the bookstore by the next Friday, but decided I’d let my load keep building—and head back to Chicago for the first piss party of the new year. 

It was a great drive in—cold, but bright and sunny.  That is until I hit the Illinois border…then huge, wet and sticky snowflakes began to pummel the windshield.  If it was this messy now—yikes, I wasn’t going to chance it five hours from now when the party was done. I drove straight to the cheap motel and booked in for later that night.

I got to the bar, paid and stripped.  I give my bag of clothes to the coat check otter I lust after.  He grins at me—and the bulge in my jock—as he hands me my claim ticket.  It is only a few minutes after starting time…

It’s actually warm in the bar.  They have cranked up the heat.  I refill my bottle at the huge thermos of water sitting on the bar.  The floor is dry—no one has started pissing yet.  It’s a smaller turn out, but that’s not surprising with the cold and the weather.  A piss party always sounds better in the heat of the summer.  Well, except to horn dogs like me.

I look down.  The man who loves to sit on the foot rail of the bar is right there.  He’s waiting to suckle anyone’s cock as they lean in to order a drink from the cute cub of a bartender.  I don’t want alcohol, but I chat with the cub for a bit—letting the rail sitter get a mouthful of cock.  He’s an excellent cock sucker and gets me hard.  I take a sip of water and am pretty sure I can feed him.  And he won’t mind in the least if it’s a little strong—not as clear as my piss will become for the rest of the night.  I know my man.  I pull out until just the tip of my hard cock is left in his mouth.  I concentrate.  I sip.  I let fly with my built up piss.  It streams right down his gullet.  He gives a happy gurgle and swallows.  And swallows.  Every. Last. Drop.

When he has wrung the last drop of piss out of my dick, he goes back to giving me head.  I let him suck until I notice another man who wants to unload in him.  I move off and sit watching the porn.


I suck a big bear of a man…first wetting his cock and extremely hairy ball sack with my now clear piss.

When I stand up and he returns the favor—I see one of my favorite pieces of ass filling his cup at the bar.  It’s the red haired young man with the insatiable ass I write about so often at these gatherings.  I let the bear get his fill of my pissy dick and then excuse myself to see if I can’t get my dick wet another way…

I follow the red haired young man to the front of the back bar.  For whatever reason, the boot black chair, near the clothes check, has not been wrapped in plastic as usual.  It makes the perfect fuck stand.

“Just don’t get it wet, guys” the hot otter minding our clothes tells us as I bend RH into the seat of the chair.  I nod at the otter.  I kneel on the dry floor and sink my face into the fleshy ass in front of me.
“You could eat my hole forever.  Fuck!”

I grunt an assent.  I feel the same way.  I poke and prod him with my tongue.  He relaxes his hole more easily here, not balanced on some saw horse in the back corner.  I probe deeper and deeper.  I love how he tastes.  I want to hose his ass crack, but I remember my promise to the otter and don’t do it.  I just spit repeatedly into his hole.

I stand up.  I wipe my drooling cock head on his now loose pucker.  My precum glistens as it mixes with my spittle.  I go back to my knees and push the pre-cum into him.

I repeat the whole process.  This time it’s a mini spurt of pre-cum.  I poke it home with my cock head.  Then my tongue.

“Jeez.  Really fuck me with that thing.  Fuck me hard.”

I stand back up.  I can’t wait to get into him.  I push in.  His hole gives way and snaps tight on the shaft behind my cock head.  I wait.  He sighs.  His hole relaxes.  I push in.  Slow.  Steady.  One long stroke for the rest of the length of my shaft.

“Oh, fuck that feels so good,” he mutters.

I agree, but I just make a noise in the back of my throat.

And I start fucking. 


Just like he asked.

There are guys getting into the blow up pool next to us, but they pay no attention to us.  It’s all about us.  We are oblivious to others and lost in our own little world of ass and cock. 

Hot ass and hard cock. 

Soon he starts producing the lube I love.  I can feel my cock go wet.  The sound changes, too.  It’s loud and wet with the suction of fucking in his copious ass lube.

Eventually we slow.  He cleans my cock, as enamored of his own secretions as I am.  I hunker down and stick my tongue into his wet hole.  It’s a heady combo of ass and cock juice.  I swallow some and leave most of it for the fuck.

The boy gets on his back, his legs in the air.  I get into him, but it’s a hard position to hold—not nearly as comfortable.  I fuck for a bit, then let his legs down.

He stands.  We kiss.  And agree to meet up later.  He goes off to the bar as I move away from the pool and splashing pigs.  I take a long swallow of water.

“You are a hung fucker,” the coat check otter says as he comes around to the front of his counter.  He hefts my wet cock.

“I really wanted to piss his hole over there," I tell him, "but I was good.”

Coat check otter leans against his counter.  He looks over his shoulder at me. “Then do mine.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice.  I piss down the perfect cleft of his hairy ass cheeks.  It’s a long stream.  He’s dripping with my piss.  He starts to stand up.

“Don’t move.”

He bends again as I sink to my knees and bury my face in his sopping wet ass…


  1. another hot recap from another hot FP experience..... and yes, I am completely boned now.

  2. Mroe, more! I hope there's going to be more of your experience with the otter. Red heads, otters, cubs, oh my!

    Paul, NYC

    1. He crops up we both wished he had prepared before the party...

  3. So, it's been five days since I last shot and now I'm hard as fuck on this train into work!

    1. I hope you stopped at some cruisy men's room on the way to work. I'd say I'm sorry. But I'm not. At all.