IML Sunday. New F-buds and Old. The New...

Chicago—May, 2016

As we ate our breakfast sandwiches, Marco told me about the interesting man he’d played with at MAFIA.  Dylan was a load collector, and versatile for fisting.  Marco thought he might be a good addition to the little play party we were organizing for early evening.  He wanted me to audition him.  So we got him over to the room around 12:30pm.

“Look at my friend,” Marco tells Dylan as he begins to undress.  I’m naked but for boots and my cock is showing Dylan just what I think of him.  He is cute—not yet 40 and tall.  He has his hair cropped short.  Dylan, the moment he’s naked but for a designer jock, falls to his knees and takes me deep in his throat.  He’s great.  I can fuck the last inch into him.  I do.  Repeatedly.

“Fuck my face,” pleads Dylan.  He plops on the bed on his back.  I show no mercy with a face fuck.  And he doesn’t want me to.  Marco hauls out his phone and starts snapping.

Marco gets up on the bed and sucks Dylan as I work at getting as much of my cock as possible down Dylan’s throat.  It’s tight on my dick.  I pull up deep saliva with my cock head.

“I need to taste your hole.  Get on all fours.  Right here.”  I smack the edge of the bed.  I dive into his ass.  Marco feeds Dylan his uncut cock as I rim.  “How many loads did you take your first night?”

“Thirty-six, I think.  I needed a felcher big time.”

I groan and renew my tongue assault on him—as if the loads are still up there.  My cock is dripping.  I stand up and wipe it across his hole.  I kneel and push it into his ass with my tongue. 

“Argh!”  Dylan groans around Marco’s dick.

I have to fuck.  I can’t wait any longer.  I stand up and enter him.  It’s a velvety hole.  I inch in—but he welcomes me after the first few inches.  I’m in place.  I hold.  And fuck him hard, forcing him forward onto Marco’s dick.  I pull out.  I kneel and taste the juices his ass is producing.  I love the taste of them—but I want to know if Dylan does Ass to Mouth.  I move around and he pulls off Marco and cleans my cock.

Well, fuck yes.

I go back to fucking.  ATM.  Fucking some more.

Now I wonder how he’ll do with someone else’s ass juice.  “Lie here on your back.” I tell Dylan.  “Marco, on all fours above him.  You wanted to see my cock in action—here we go.”

I slide into Marco.  Dylan is licking my balls without needing to be told.  I am fucking Marco right over Dylan’s face.  It’s the last pig test.  His tongue is all over my cock as it disappears into Marco.

“Fuck me again!”

“Let’s move to the sling.”  Dylan needs no help to get into a sling.  He’s there and waiting.

I rim a little, but get right back into him.  Marco feeds Dylan his cock.  He works Dylan’s nipples. Marco goes and gets a Violet Wand.  He places the ground under Dylan’s armpit.  Then, with the machine on the lowest setting, he begins running his hand all over Dylan’s chest—sending little shivers of electricity through his friend.

I take a break and nod at Marco.  He kneels on the floor and has his hand up Dylan in no time.  I lie on the bed and stroke.  Soon, I get up.  Marco knows what I want.  He twists his arm slowly so he’s palm up in Dylan.  I step across Marco’s arm and push into the full hole.  Instantly I feel Marco’s hand close around me—stroking my cock deep in the gut of Dylan.

I let him stroke me.  I do a few mini strokes—knowing every movement I make is magnified with the fist in him.

I pull out.

We do it again.

Finally Dylan needs a break.  Marco and he reverse.

Dylan gets up him easily.  We repeat my adding my cock into Marco—with Dylan doing the masturbating inside him.

We repeat that.  When I pull out, I kneel beside Dylan and work four of my fingers into Marco, right alongside Dylan’s fist.

He is super stretched—and loving it.

“Okay.  Break time.”

We clean the excess lube off our various body parts. 

Marco asks if Dylan would like to come back to our 5pm pig party.

He agrees.

Audition complete—and passed with the highest marks.

This video surprised--and pleased--me.

IML Sunday. New F-buds and Old

Chicago—May, 2016

Marco and I headed home today.  I’m exhausted.  In the best possible way.  Sunday was very full.  I’m not going to write it when I’m this tired—so a little teaser…

“Look at my friend,” Marco tells Dylan.  Dylan is cute—not yet 40 and tall.  He has his hair cropped short.  All Marco has talked about all morning is what a good time he had with Dylan at MAFIA.  Dylan, for his part, falls to his knees and takes me deep in his throat.  He’s great.  I can fuck the last inch into him.

“Fuck my face,” pleads Dylan.  He plops on the bed on his back.  I show no mercy with a face fuck.  And he doesn’t want me to.  Marco hauls out his phone and starts snapping.

*****

I am fucking Marco right over Dylan’s  face.  It’s the last pig test.  His tongue is all over my cock as it disappears into Marco.

“Fuck me!”

I enter him—I own his ass for the next few minutes…

"Let's move to the sling..."

IML -- Piss Party Fuck Machine

Chicago—May, 2016

I had a relaxing morning.  I blogged about the night before over an additional cup of tea.  I relaxed.  I hydrated.  Saturday is piss party day.  It’s a longer gathering than usual.  We usually play for four hours.  In honor of IML, the party stretched to seven hours.  I decided to get there at the top and just see how long I could last…

I walk into the bar at five minutes before the appointed time.  No one is there.  Really?  I can’t believe it.  At the top of the hour, five out of towners walk in.  The door opens to the back bar and we line up to pay our admission fee.  I am in my flight suit coverall.  I unzip and am ready to go—filthy yellow jock, the old combat boots and the yellow neoprene harness.  I drink the last of my Gatorade.  I refill it with water from the huge Thermos on the bar. 

The newbies are wasting no time—I see men on their knees sucking cock from the first moment they’ve checked their clothes.

“Do we piss only in the pool?” asks a daddy bear.

I assure him that he can piss anywhere in the room.  I show him by pissing on his hard cock, then going to my knees to clean it off.  When I stand back up, the number of the people in the room has tripled. 

In another hour it has swollen to the legal limit.  You must press through naked, wet flesh to get anywhere.

“Look at him,” says a regular pointing to a gorgeous man with dark, Spanish features.  “You gotta love a guy who comes wearing knee pads.”  The hot one is indeed in a red jock and knee pads.  “You need to investigate,” he says, laughingly batting at my bulging jock.

I do.  I sit near the Hot One who is on his knees sucking an otter.  He finishes blowing him, stands up and turns to me.  My cock is out.  It’s like a beacon.  He kneels in front of me.  “I need to suck this,” he tells me.

He does.  And very well.  I stand, never taking my dick out of his mouth.  I hold him by the ears and plow my thick dick down his throat.  This causes his very large cock to spring free of the jock. 

“Let me know if you like to fuck,” he tells me.

“I want to do that a little later—what I want to do right now is eat your ass.”

He braces himself against the partition and juts a magnificent ass towards me.  I sink to the still dry floor and eat him out.  He tastes terrific.  He grinds back on my tongue.  My cock tells me it’s time to fuck now—not later.  I stand up.

“You take it raw?”

“Yes, Sir.”

I sink in.  He takes me effortlessly, though I’m his first fuck of the party.  I fuck him until we are both panting.  Neither of us are eager to cum.  The afternoon is just beginning.  Others come to watch.  I turn the Hot One to suck a bear’s dick as I plow.  Soon I pull out and motion for him to take the hairy bear up his ass and to clean my cock.  He does.  Gratefully.  I have him spin back and reenter his wet hole. 

I have him suck and fuck with another regular.  This time I piss on the new cock fucking him.  I know I have found the pig I’ll return to again and again.

 And we do just that.

*****

I notice the hairy bears from Palm Springs are standing by the bar.  I go over.  We chat.  I drink their piss.  I fuck the bottom—egged on by the top.  My pal Rod (the New Year’s Eve host) joins us.  He gets fucked by the top.  We suck and eat each other’s holes in a lovely four-way.

*****

I am playing with Rod again later in the evening.  Watching us is the man I called Beer Can Cock when I wrote up the porn he and I filmed over the last two years at IML.    Beer Can strokes his dick as he watches me plow Rod.

“Hot ass?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah,” I tell him.  “Try it.”

I step aside.  Beer Can spits on his cock and enters.  Rod, not know the thickness of the man, yelps appreciatively.  BC fucks like a pile driver.  I have moved around, thinking Rod would suck my dick, but instead I just hold on to him as his ass is pummeled.  I am almost knocked over with the force of the fucking.  At one point Rod looks up at me.  His eyes are shining.  This is exactly what he wants. 

It’s seemingly what Beer Can wants, too.  I finally let Rod go.  He moves, dick still in him, to one of the sawhorses.  He’s lying flat now stomach on the top plank.

“Give it to me deeper,” he mumbles.

Beer Can is happy to comply.

*****

Carlos is here.  My hot muscular Latino fuck bud with the beautiful tribal tat that swirls across his body.  We don’t play for long.  He is taking advantage of all the new meat.  I sit on the ledge and watch Carlos sit on a handsome youngster.  I stand and contribute some piss—right on the young man’s dick.  He gives me an evil grin and bucks harder up into that hot Latino ass.  In moments, Carlos pulls off of him and settles on me.  I groan as his silky canal grabs onto my dick.  He fucks down on me.  I sit still and let him massage his prostate with my cock.

In moments, Carlos rise up and transfers back to the young man. 

Then back to me.

And back.  Until his legs need a rest.  I clean the young man’s cock—and kiss him—giving him a good taste of Carlos’ ass juice and my piss.

*****

I wander. 

I drink from someone’s tap.

I piss on the boys in the pool.

I watch the Hot One take a good fucking from a tall and slender top.  The top is maybe 35, wearing a harness and leather jock.  I contribute some piss.  The man shoots his load into the Hot One.  He pulls out slowly.  He is too sensitive to let me clean his dick, but he watches in awe as I felch his load from out of the Hot One.  I swallow some, but save enough to fuck in.  My cock churns the remainder.  The Hot One pulls off me, cleans my dick and asks for a fuck break.  He goes off to use his mouth instead.

I amble away. 

The top follows me.  “Let me see that dick.”

We settle into the back corner, now awash with piss.  The top kneels on the wet floor and gives me some expert head.  Once my cock is good and slippery with his deep saliva, he stands up, turns around and slowly settles down on my dick.

“I’m usually on top,” he gasps, “but there was no way I wasn’t trying this thing out.”

He bounces happily on me.  The Hot One appears and gives us each a business card.  He needs to leave, but wants to see us both again.  Only then do I realize that he’s a porn model.

The top tucks his card into his boot.  The act of his leaning forward, still on my dick, is an invite to one of the guys watching to piss on the base of my dick.

We continue rutting in the pale yellow stream like true piss pigs…

*****

He’s back.  Last year there was a Master who approached me to fuck his gorgeous 20-something Latino boy.  That boy is here and he’s hotter than I remembered.  He has black hair and a chiseled chest.  A large, intricate tattoo stretches across the rock hard pecs.  And the boy is here on his own this time.  He’s not as shy this year either.  He sees me across the room and comes right to me.

“You gave me such a hot fuck last year.  I want more.” 

Who could say no to that?

We talk for a minute.  He reminds me he’s from L.A.  We move to the barber chair at the front of the bar.  He kneels on it.  I get lost in his ass—my tongue working overtime. 

“That’s so hot,” says a voice next to me.  It’s one of the men in the piss pool.  I pull away and invite him to tongue the boy.  We go back and forth.  I spit on his pucker, the other man pushes it in.  I stand.  I aim my piss on the ass crack as the man is tonguing him deep.  He gurgles his appreciation.  When my stream stops, I join him for a sloppy kiss.

I fuck.  I’m doing deep knee bends to get into him, but I don’t care.  The boy makes the most sensual moans as I fill his ass.  I fuck him hard.  He pushes back against me.  We fuck happily and noisily. 

When my knees are screaming at me to stop, I get him up and lead him to the bar.  I want everyone to see me ravage this hole.  He leans against the counter.  I kneel and eat.  His ass is flooded with my piss and his own natural lube.  Delicious.  I stand and insert.  He bucks against me.  I fuck him hard.  Hips slapping bubble butt.  I think for a moment I might get off.  But I don’t.  I look down at the boy—and all the men jerking as we fuck.  I notice one in the boy’s line of vision.

“Do you want that cock up you?”

“If you want me to—and you’ll fuck me again after.”

Could he have said anything better?  I pull out and tell the man to fuck him…and move my wet dick to the boy’s mouth…

*****

It is 5 hours and 15 minutes into the party.  I need to get off.  I would have bred the porn star—but he left hours ago.  I look for the LA boy.  Gone too.  As if on cue, a cute young man in a blue harness and matching jock arrives at my side.  I have been aware of him for the last 45 minutes.  He has nice dick—and has been shoving it up a lot of guys.  We’ve even fucked side by side.  I’m hoping that now he wants to share some piggy bottom with me.

“Hey.”

“Hey...”

“I’ve watched you fuck,” he tells me.  “You’re hot.”

“Thanks.  So are you—and you know how to use that thing.”  I touch his semi-hard, barely covered by his jock.

“That’s the thing.  I’m usually all top, but I want to try yours out.  Fuck me?”

We go behind the screens.  I am instantly on my knees and reaming out his butt hole. 

He is grunting and moaning.  “Put that monster in me.  Fuck me, daddy!”

“Raw?”

“Don’t you dare cover that thing.”

I stand up.  I have to go slowly but I’m in his tight hole.  I fuck.  His fist beats the wall.  He squeezes down on me.  I shoot.  It’s one of those reflex cums—it’s not the full thing—just my cock spitting out jizz. 

I tell him I’ve shot.  I pull out and felch what I’ve put up his ass.  I stand, he turns and takes my dick to suck it clean.  I explode—full on orgasm this time—into his mouth and all over his chest.  We hug—sticking together with my semen and his sweat…

IML--Two Asses On Offer

Chicago—May, 2016

I wanted some connected play for my first night at IML.  There was a boy in my hotel who was offering all sorts of service—including piss and forced ass licking.  I asked if he was ready for more cock.  He politely told me he was declining for I was too big for his ravaged holes. 

Back to the drawing board. 

I fired up BBRT and looked over the mega list of holes on offer—maybe I’d settle for more of a pump and dump after all.  But one caught my eye.  “Two asses side by side.  Compare and choose where to unload.” And I knew the host:  Cowboy Boots.

I went to the Congress Hotel and climbed the stairs to the sixth floor.  (I hate the elevators there.) The door was ajar—held open by the security chain.

“We’re in here.”

It’s a huge suite.  I go left into the bedroom.   Cowboy Boots is on all fours—a neoprene jock accenting his full ass.  On the other bed sits a man I haven’t seen in years—actually not since I started playing raw.  Cowboy Boots tells me to get comfortable.  He doesn’t recognize me with my clothes on.  The other man says he’ll go into the other room.  It’s easy to convince him to strip and stay.  “I came here for two holes,” I tell him.

I am naked but for jock and boots.  I kneel behind CB and start to rim.  He’s loaded.  I slurp and swallow as he groans.  My right hand snakes over and plays around the very wet hole of Jay as I continue to eat out CB. 

Then I switch.  Jay groans as my tongue tastes the loads in his butt.

Only then do I identify myself.  Cowboy Boots and I have just fucked at CLAW.  Jay reminds me that I was the first man to fist him.

But I give him my dick tonight.

“Here it is raw,” I tell him.  I fuck him…then the other.  Transferring seed from one hole to the next.

The door opens.  A Black top comes in—looking like he stopped by the hotel on the way home from the grocery store what with all the bags he’s carrying.  He strips and starts to rim Jay.  He has a big uncut cock.  He fucks Jay as I ravage CB.

We stay in those holes a long time.  I finally get the other top to try the other ass.  He licks at the wet hole and enters CB roughly as I do the same to Jay.

We trade again.  This time I ask to taste his dick as it pulls out.  He gladly let me do it—and asks if I’m a bottom, too.

Cowboy Boots checks the door.  It’s closed.  He opens it and eight men troop in.  We are suddenly performing for them—getting them hard so they can take their turn. As soon as they are hard, the Black top and I step aside for the fresh recruits.  Two Asian men in their thirties step forward and fuck.

They switch.

A big bear fucks and unloads in CB.

A young Black guy with a dick that looks like mine but in ebony goes back and forth.

I take a turn again.

This time the young Black cleans the extra jizz off my cock.

And so it goes.  About half the group gets off—but seven of them leave.  A thinner Asian man with a nice upturn dick stays.  We take turns as the first top reclines on the bed and watches us.  Eventually he gets up and all but pushes me out of the way to get into Jay.

“I think we should try a DP,” I tell the thin top.  He likes this, a lot.  I lie down on the bed and let CB sit on my dick.  The hooked cock pokes in.  He grunts at the tightness.  It feels terrific—that cock fucking along the length of mine.

My dick slides out.  We re-position.  It is even hotter.  CB grunts about how full he feels.

On the other bed, the first top fills Jay with a load.  He rolls to the side and demands I clean him up. 

The hooked dick goes up Jay.  The moment I have licked every drop of semen off the uncut meat, the hooked cock fires up Jay.

The thin man lets me clean him, also—and watches in wonder as I felch the mixed loads.  I stand, insert and fuck.

The mix of semen in his ass feels too good.  I shoot, too.  Breeding him for the first time. 

“I can’t wait to read about this tomorrow,” Cowboy Boots tells me as I dress to leave.

I hope he likes it…

IML--The Night Before

My Playroom—May, 2016

His ass is so hairy.  Dark and glossy against his pale white skin.  He’s on the fuck bench—each knee creating craters in the padding.   The hair on his ass is incredibly thick.  I lean in and stick my tongue into him as deeply as I can.  Marco groans.  The poppers open.

Marco arrived at my house at 8:45pm last night.  We hugged.  He showered as I set up the sling—still packed from CLAW and the Pornstars.  By 10:00pm I had my face in his ass.

I lick around his pucker.  I pull the cheeks apart and drill into him.  He reaches back and pulls his cheeks even farther apart.  He holds them that way as I lick every inch of his exposed flesh.  The hole pink and wet.  I add a slick finger.  All the way in and out.  And again.  When he can’t help himself, he let’s go and hits the poppers again.  I pick up the pace of the tongue fucking.

We have agreed on a short session.  We’d both been pretty sleepless the night before.  We want to get to bed early and hit the road to Chicago in the morning.

I stand up.  I insert.  “Damn,” Marco hisses. He is so wet from my tongue…and from how his ass has lubed itself with the invading fingers and cock.  I pull out and taste myself in his hole.

Out for breakfast.  A quick pack of our leather.  A turn through my office.  And we hit the road to Chicago by 10:30am. 

I go back to my dick in him.  I fuck.  But I know he wants more.  “Let’s move to the sling.”  We do—and I begin greasing up my hands.

It was an uneventful drive—the kind I prefer.  No traffic to speak of—and we arrived early.  The Travel Lodge was ready for us.

Three fingers left.  Three fingers right.  Lateral stretch.  Four fingers left and twist them slowly.  Four fingers right and twist.  Before I know it my left hand is home, his ass lips snapping shut around my wrist.

Our Travel Lodge room has just enough room to set up the sling.

I am crawling up his ass.  I pull back slightly and open my fingers.  They guide me ever deeper.  I realize that I have never been so deep in his butt.  I’m halfway to the elbow.  I inch out. 

A quick tour of the vendor mart.

I repeat the slow crawl up him with my right.  Not quite as deep, but almost. The smallest twist and he cums again.  I lick up his third dripping of jizz.

Marco is off to MAFIA tonight.  I don’t know what I’m doing.

I go back to the left hand.  I inch in—concentrating on constantly brushing his prostate.  The biggest flow of jizz drips out of his uncut cock,  He shudders.  “That’s enough,” he pants.  “Please.”  I move my hand just a fraction of a turn once more. 

Exquisite agony. 

And then I slip out of his satiated hole.

International Mr. Leather 2016

IML starts tomorrow.

My long time readers know what means:  Daily reports from the front.

Marco, the muscle hole, is on his way to my house as I type this.

He will be headed to the epic MAFIA fisting parties.

I know I am headed to the Saturday piss party that is scheduled for seven hours instead of the usual four.

I will also be curious to see if I can find men who want more than just a quick load in their butt.  

BBRT is chock full of ads for almost nothing but cum dumps.

Not that I haven’t helped with that—but you all know I like extended play.

Whoops…Marco is here.  I am going to put my hand (and a few other things) up his ass.  We’ll sleep well—and hit the road in the morning.

Working the Back Room

Near home—May, 2016

The very next night after my “no fuck” cumshot I went to the club that is sort of a cross between a bookstore and a bathhouse.  It’s farther away, but I was up for the drive.  I was to meet a couple of regulars there. 

I needed to do better. 

And I did.

I am meeting the Tall One.  He’s the 6’6” versatile guy I have often mentioned when I’m here.  He is dark and handsome, with an ass increasingly needing more attention than his dick.  I know I will be paying attention to his butt tonight.  On top of that, a mutual friend is also bringing a young butt boy for us all to share. 

I am the first to arrive.  The store has increased the price—up another $5.00.  I roam around the almost empty space.  (When will they learn?—Get the guys in with lower prices—they’ll have fun and come back more often.)  The space has changed again.  The good sling is now in a private room you can rent for even more money.  The fuck bench has been moved into a place where it might actually get used.  The two cages are gone.  More screens playing different types of porn are scattered around the place.

I sit next to a daddy stroking as he watches porn.  We are the only people in this part of the lounge.  I have seen only one other man waiting by one of the glory holes.  I sit near the daddy in a chair.  He pats the couch cushion next to him.

We are soon trading blow jobs.  I far prefer his mouth to his rough, calloused hands.  He asks me to shoot.  I mention I am meeting some guys—and if he likes to fuck, I know at least two men who will like his thick, foreskinned dick. 

All the time we’ve been playing, the door buzzer has been sounding, letting more guys into the place.  I excuse myself and go off to check out the new recruits.  Four or five men are milling around.  One stands in front of the big screen monitor in the corner where a cage once sat.  He is young and thin.  His eyes are riveted to the screen where a man is being fucked in a sling.  He does not touch the front of his jeans, but you can tell the movie has hardened his cock.  I move around to a dark corner on the left side of the screen.  I sit on the platform.  I can watch the video through a gloryhole.  I take my dick out.

Well, suddenly the movie isn’t as riveting.  The young man moves towards me.

“May I touch it?” he asks.  “Sir,” he adds as an afterthought. 

I nod. 

He falls to his knees and hefts my cock.  His eyes shine.  He lowers his head down on my dripping dick.  He’s good.  He groans as my cock goes deep.  He can’t take it all but he has a good two thirds of me down his throat.

He alternates between taking me deep and swirling his tongue around my cock head.   He only pauses once so he can unzip his fly.  He goes deeper on my dick once he’s jerking himself.

I look up.  There is the Tall One and my friend who loves to share his boys.  They unzip and stroke as they watch me feed this college kid.  My friend moves closer.  I pull the boy off my cock and push him onto my friend.  The Tall One moves in—he wants some too.  I pull the sucker off my friend and onto the new hard dick.  The sucker hesitates.  I can see it in his face —“This is what sluts do.”  I put slight pressure on his neck.  I watch him relax—it’s no longer his decision.  I have “forced” him.

Round and round he goes under my guidance.  Big.  Bigger. Biggest. 

And back again.  The other men take turns grabbing him by the ears and fucking his face.  When it’s my turn, I do the same.  And I get almost my entire cock down his throat.

He pulls off me.  “I need to take a break,” he pants.  “Catch my breath.” 

I nod—but I know he won’t be back.  The floor is covered in his cum.

*****

I wander.  At a glory hole, I suck one of the smallest dicks imaginable for a few moments.  Neither of us is happy.   It can barely poke through the thin wood partition.  

I leave the booth when I hear the unmistakable sounds of fucking.  I round the corner of the glory hole booths.  The Tall One is standing in a booth—fucking the boy our friend brought.  The boy is late 20’s, maybe older.  It’s hard to tell in the dim light and since he’s bent over, holding on to the door frame of the booth.  He’s tall, too, and beefy, in a good way.  My friend moves in and sticks his cock in the boy’s mouth.

As if a bell went off, everyone in the place comes in to watch the fuck.  My friend steps back and lets me into his boy’s mouth.  I look across the boy’s back at the Tall One.  He smiles—and the next minute he is pumping his load into the upturned ass.  He pulls out.  The boy must have been told the drill.  He offers his dripping hole to me.

“Eat me out, Daddy.” 

I fall to my knees and tongue his hole, swallow some of the load dripping from him.  But not all.  I want to fuck in it.  I stand and insert.  I fuck.  My friend pushes into the boy’s mouth.  I notice the Daddy I’d played with earlier.  He’s stroking up a storm as he watches us use the boy.  I wordlessly offer him the ass.  He shakes his head and shoots a mega load on the floor.  I direct the boy to turn and take my friend.  He fucks for a bit as the boy cleans my cock of the Tall One’s load and his own ass juices.

I fuck him again.

One other man in the crowd shoots on the floor.

And the rest of the men melt away—back to the televisions…

*****

We did play more.  My friend was allowed to use the private room for free.  I fucked the boy for a long time in the sling.  But my friend was getting a headache.  The Tall One went home.  And we could not interest anyone else to fuck him.

I finally shot.  I thanked him and left him cruising for more dick.

The Professor Leads Me Astray. Again.

I should be writing.  And maybe I will once I hear him in the shower…

The Professor arrived at my house last night.  We drove into Chicago today. 

The three rent boys start to arrive in two hours…

I am really boned about his choices.

One we know.  Two we don’t.

This is just what I need…

Short. But Sweet?

Near Home—May, 2016

When I started this blog I promised I’d write the truth about my sex life:  the good, the bad and the ugly.  This entry doesn’t qualify as any of those.  But perhaps it’s the shortest entry.

It had been an awful week.  I had no desire to play at all.  Work was taking up all my time—and keeping me up with worry every other night.  And then the nights I did sleep I felt anything but refreshed when I woke up. I cancelled a play session at my house for I knew I’d be terrible company—and I simply couldn’t be out of the office for a couple of hours.

So by Friday, just this last Friday, I knew I had to do something.  I knew I didn’t want someone in my play room—I just needed something nice and anonymous.  So off I went to my usual bookstore with a week’s worth of jizz in my balls…

I pull my car into an all but deserted parking lot.  Last week it had been packed and I’d had a blast.  There are maybe three cars in the lot.  Not a good sign.

I go in.  Buy the ticket.  Sit alone in the straight theatre on the battered leatherette couch.  It’s a cold night.  And they have the air conditioning on.  It’s freezing.  But the porn is good.  Maybe it’s too good.  A whole disc of four men on a girl.  Nasty fucking in every hole—and sometimes two in one hole or the other.

I jerk in solitude.  Deciding that this is just fine.

A Grizzly Adams type comes in.  He ignores me.

The door opens again.  A handsome 40-ish blond comes in.  He stands next to me.  He squeezes his crotch.  He reaches for my cock.  I let him stroke it.  He hefts it with a muttered “Nice.”

He unzips and sticks a sizable dick in my mouth.  This is perfect.  I really want his load and to get off as I take it.

He fucks my face.  He pulls out and goes down on me.  He’s good, though he’s at a slightly odd angle.  He gets up, sits next to me and pulls my head into his lap.  I suck.

“You need to fuck me.”

He gets up and drops his pants.  This really interests Grizzly Adams.

I lube my dick and am about to get up.  But the blond wants to sit on my cock.  He straddles my legs and lowers himself down on me.  He’s tight.  I finally bust through his ring.

And I shoot. 

The whole week’s worth of cum.

Not even one stroke.

I apologize.

But he seems happy to have the load. 

At least that’s something.

The Watcher

Near Home—May, 2016

I didn’t need or want sex for almost a week after all the play at CLAW.  I came home on Sunday and I did not even feel a stirring until Friday.  But I  sure did by Friday morning.  I woke up with an erection that just wouldn’t go down.  I felt seventeen again. After all the butt sex in Cleveland, I was ready to suck some cock.  I went to the bookstore nearest me.

I am on my knees, a dick lodged in my throat, five minutes after I walk into the straight theatre.  We are against the back wall, next to the couch.  A man is sitting next to us, stroking as he watches.  The cock I’m sucking is nice enough—a good mouthful.  The man’s an easy cummer.  I suck him down often when I’m there.  He’s little work—for, usually, a big payoff.

The door opens.  A little gnome of a man comes in.  He all but gasps when he sees me on my knees, working a wet dick.  He shuts the door quickly, plastering himself against the wall.  Down comes his zipper.  He cups the band of his underwear under his balls and strokes in time with the thrusts into my mouth.

My man grunts and shoots a big load.  I pull back just enough to make sure it pools on my tongue before I swallow it.  I want to taste it, dammit.  It’s why I’m a cocksucker.  I won’t let go of his cock.  My tongue is all over it, getting every drop.  He writhes in that exquisite agony we all know.  Finally, I’m satisfied.  I thank him, get up and take a swig from my water bottle.  Just like a wine tasting—a want my palette clear for the next load. 

The man on the couch gestures he wants me on his dick by spreading his legs.  I kneel and go to work.  Thinner cock, upward curve.  Slightly more work, but a man who I know will be able to get off in my mouth.  The gnome changes sides of the room—all but waddling what with his pants around his knees.  He never stops stroking as he crosses the darkened room.  He can see better over there and he wants to see my every move.

I get the new guy off the moment my tongue hits his balls.  I have to dive for the erupting dick.  I don’t let any splatter on his worn work shirt.  He holds my head in place.  I am just able to taste his jizz (bitter) before it spirals down into my stomach.

He leaves.  I swig my water and move to the spot on the faux leather couch the man has just vacated.  The watcher sits next to me.

“I’m just a voyeur.  I don’t want anything.  But I sure want to watch you have sex.”

“No problem,” I tell him truthfully.  Any reader of this chronicle certainly knows I like an audience.

“Do you know these guys?

“From here.  I’ve played with both of those two before.”

“And you don’t use a condom?”

“I will use one for fucking a guy, if that’s what he wants, but never for oral, no.”

He looks slightly shocked, but beats his dick faster.  He lapses into silence.  It’s a good movie.  My dick is rampant.  I stroke.  I look over.  His eyes are plastered to my cock.

“I can’t imagine,” he sighs.  I don’t know if he means taking me—or having sex like I do.

“I’m a germ-aphobe,” he says matter-of-factly.  “I don’t like other people touching my…privates.”

I nod.

And then he proceeds to tell me he’s married.  To a woman.  They haven’t had sex in forever. But he loves watching sloppy sex.  The kind he can’t abide in real life.

As if on cue, the woman on the screen erupts—pulling off the man’s hand and squirts all over him.

“That is so nasty,” he mutters, jerking all the faster.

****

And hour or so later.

I am in the gay theatre.  They are actually showing a bareback video.  (It sure didn’t take long for Michael Lucas to change his tune when he saw where the money was…)  And it’s hot.  Nasty.  Raw.  I have just taken my third load of the night while the man watched the oral cum shots on the screen.  He’s gone.  I’m stroking and I dribble some of the man’s load out of my mouth and on to my dick to stroke.

I do so quite happily for ten minutes or so.  Alone.

I do myself up and check the straight side.  Deserted. 

Back I go to the newly condomless boys.  A man I know is sitting in the corner stroking a beer can of a dick.  He’s ten years or so younger than I am.  Hairy, with dark tight curls poking out of the top of his t-shirt.  They cover his crotch, too.  I remember having played with him here before.  A good cock sucker.  And better, he loves to eat my ass.

I shut the door, walk over and settle down between his spread legs.  He smiles at me and tells me to suck his cock.

I do.

I stand up, when my knees can’t take it anymore, and feed him mine.  He sucks me to the root easily.  A pro.  I hold his head and fuck his face.

The door opens.  A Latino boy who always begs to be fucked walks in.  He may want to be fucked but he never preps.  I know that’s not happening.

My cocksucker pulls off me.  “Let me eat your ass.”

In answer, I pull a chair around, kneel on the seat and push my butt out towards him.

The door opens.  It’s the watcher.

The rimmer’s tongue spears me.  No warm up licks.  He’s into me with a vengeance.  I groan loudly.

Out come the two dicks of the other men.  They stroke—one on either side of me. 

My rimmer is grunting and jerking his dick as he sloppily eats out my hole.

The Latino can’t stand it.  He shoves his cock into my mouth.  It’s not what I want, I try to move away.  He holds me in place and fucks my face.  Hard.  With his stubby, uncut cock.  Maybe in payback mode for all those times I’ve told him I won’t fuck his dirty hole.

The rimmer is now using his chin on my ass crack.  His late night stubble grates up and down my slick ass.  I moan around the dick in my mouth.

The watcher grabs the wastebasket out of the corner and puts it down in front of him.

I am moaning with the double invasion.

The watcher shoots.  Arcing perfectly into the wastebasket.  Not a drop gets on the floor.

My rimmer stands up.  I get off the chair and spin around.  I want to taste my hole on his tongue. 

We kiss noisily. 

We stroke.

I shoot all over the beer can dick.  Nothing as neat as the Watchers orgasm. My jizz drips to the floor.
 

I fall to my knees and clean what’s left off his cock. 

Tasting every drop as I swallow it down.

Jacob's Blog

So Jacob (of Derrick and Jacob) keeps a Tumblr blog—“Confessions of a Hooded Bondage Bottom.”  You’ve likely seen it in my blog roll.  Hopefully you have perused it at some point.  There are many pictures of him with toys—and a huge collection of bondage photos taken from the internet.  The blog acts as his scrapbook.

Well, Jacob has written a very nice piece about our last time together just before CLAW—and he has posted all the pictures that were taken that night.  I have linked it right here—so you can see more of me ravaging his hole.  The final two pictures are Derrick fucking Jacob—taken by me when I crawled under the sling.  I promise I did not go under there to lick Derrick’s balls as he fucked Jacob.  I went down there to take those pictures.  Yep.  That’s the only reason.  I would never even think of doing that other thing I said…

CLAW: Saturday Night Asylum Party

Cleveland—Saturday night, April, 2016

Saturday.  I took not just the morning off, but the afternoon as well.  I was tired from the long haul on Friday night.  But I also noticed that someone had caught their eyetooth on my cock.  It hadn’t broken the skin—but a deep purple blob of a blood blister was just under the skin on my very white shaft.  I gave him a rest.

I read, wrote and went to the vendor mart—though I did not need to buy anything.  It was very hard to resist going back to the gangbang boys of Friday afternoon, as I knew they were doing it again.  But I resisted.  Rested.  And was totally horned for a night of debauchery at FlexxxAsylum. 

It was to have started 30 minutes ago.  I deliberately arrived 30 minutes after the start time and I am still standing in line.  There are just a few of us waiting for the staff to find wrist bands which will identify our clothes bag, so they will be able to give us our belongings back at the end of the evening.  Eventually, they arrive.  I strip.  I am the first one to enter.  Now, I like watching the crowd gather at a play party, but this is ridiculous.  And for some reason, we aren’t allowed into the rest of the bathhouse yet.  I just have to wait, hanging out by the piss area—hoping for that first emptying of bladder before sex.

No takers.  I follow a hot looking pig into the real rest room but he begs off with the ‘Can’t piss in a mouth’ line.  A shame.

I do get one shaved headed, shortish daddy to give me a load of piss.  And that’s it for the night.  I feed two other bottom pigs rather regularly.  It’s not a wet crowd tonight.  At all.

But they do like to get fucked…

Some of the first people I see are two from Friday:  the Daddy and the twink who got off while I fucked him.  Daddy is sitting on a couch off to the side.  The boy is on all fours between the Daddy’s spread legs.  I go over.  My eyes ask permission to touch.  Daddy nods.  I kneel behind the young man and lightly touch his hole.  He shivers.  A groan is muffled by Daddy’s cock.  I finger him deftly, then bend to connect my tongue to his damp hole.  But it’s awkward.

“We should get him in the sling,” Daddy suggests.

“I was thinking of me under the rimseat, your boy sitting on my face so he could still suck your cock.”

“Please, let’s do that,” says the young man.

So we do.  The concrete floor is cold, but I don’t care.  It’s a glorious ass on my face.  I eat him forever.  And fuck him in the sling nearest the stage as the crowd slowly grows in the room.

The boy is taking everyone on.  I count 5 dicks in him before the hot pig who couldn’t give me piss arrives and asks for a turn.  He is the true biker type of leather man:  cropped hair, a long scraggly goatee and a ton of unrelated tats.  I can’t wait to watch him fuck the boy with his big dick.

Biker notices me watching him fuck.  “You like that?  You’d suck my cock right out of his hole, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Then do it.”

And so it begins.  I taste the boy’s hole, spit on the cock and he plunges back in. And again.

Then we switch.  I fuck, then offer the Biker my wet cock.

Biker gives me expert head.  And I shove back in.

The porn stars come out and do their show on the stage next to us.  I watch with half an eye— making sure that Aarin Asker, who’s up on the stage in the sling just above us, sees the size of my dick.

Nope, no audience members are invited up this year.  I concentrate on the boy and the Biker.  When the young man asks for a break, the Biker and I go off and do it with a man our own age on the other side of the stage near the crosses.  This time we find a host of men who want to clean our dicks.

We are in hog heaven, as we rotate the fucking again and again.

*****

I make the rounds of the bathhouse.  I fuck a dirty bottom in the sling.  Everyone had been spotless the night before—I run into three bad clean outs tonight. 

I go back to the warehouse.  I can’t believe it.  Biker is in the sling and getting fucked.  I walk up.  A hot man in a harness and leather shorts is fucking him with a fairly average dick.  I watch and stroke.

“I wish I could take you,” the Biker says, looking up at me, “but you’d rip me apart.”

“I don’t need to fuck you if I can just eat out your hole when he’s done.”

“Sure thing.”

The man fucking him re-doubles his efforts—he likes what he’s hearing.  He shoots.

I clean him and felch Biker’s hole.  I also get the head of my cock in his open hole—but I don’t push too hard.  I go back to licking him out.

*****

Much later.  I have had someone in every sling in the place both in the warehouse and the bathhouse proper.  All except the sling on the stage.

The Daddy finds me.  “He’s asking for you.  He wants to cum and go home.  While you are fucking him.”

I’m pleased he liked it so much last night. 

“How many loads did you take?” I ask him as I prepare to rim him again.

“I lost count.” 

“At least six,” his Dad says proudly.  Of course I oblige in fucking him until he’s covered with his own spunk.  I lick it up and stick some of it into his overused hole. 

*****

Later yet.

I fuck a wonderful otter from Chicago I met ages ago when he was visiting friends of mine.  I fuck a load out of him, too.  I lap that up, and stick some of it in his over sensitive hole.

Still later.

A gaggle of very young men have arrived at the warehouse from the bathhouse—all towels/no hides.  I worry that they are tourists.  I’m wrong. Happily wrong.  A very tall young man is determined to take all three of their loads in the sling.  I watch each of them fuck him.  They cum one after the other.

The tall young man looks over at me.  “Do you want my hole, Sir?”

I nod.  I walk closer and kneel down to felch what his friends have shot up him.  On his ass are the words “Fuck Me.”  One word on each cheek.  I taste the loads in him.  It’s a mental thing—having watched three guys shoot them.  And the three guys are watching me now. 

“Daddy,” whispers the tall one, “I’m hungry, too.”  I stand up and snow ball him a huge amount of cum into his baby bird like mouth.

He grunts his appreciation.  I rim and felch some more.  I do it again.

I know where I’m ending my night.  I am going to add my seed to the mix.

I stand up. 

“Look at the size of that,” the first guy who shot in him says about my dick.

I push the head against the puffy hole.

“You’re bigger than the Black guy who bred him.”

My cock glides in.

“How many loads did he take before you three?” I ask.

My cock is so fucking wet I can’t stand it. 

“I’m not sure, how many Eric?”

But Eric isn’t answering—he’s concentrating on milking my cock.

“At least eight,” the first guy tells me.

“Plus you three, so I am going to make it an even dozen,” I announce to the room.

That makes Eric groan.

I fuck.  I pull out and eat.  I snowball the churned loads.

I fuck.  I eat.  I swallow.  The frothy slime is all mine this time.

I fuck.  I grab the top of the sling frame.  I empty into him.

I watch the look on Eric’s face.  He can feel every spasm of my cock.

I marinate in his hole.  I lean down and kiss him.  The first man to do so.

We are connected, mouth to mouth, sweaty chest to sweaty chest, cock to hole.

“Thank you,” I whisper into his ear.

“Thank you, Daddy…”

“Hungry, boy?”

He just nods.  I pull my dick out of his jizzed out hole, hunker down and begin to lick out my seed.  I so want him to taste my cum—mixed with all the other loads… 

The Road to Hell

No, this post is not about my drive home from CLAW. 

The title refers to that phrase about good intentions.

I came home, sure I could write up last night’s play party.

But I’m beat.  In a deliciously tired way. 

I didn’t mean to play for 4.5 hours straight, but I did.

I am going to bed. 

Alone. 

Well, maybe with a bear…