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..."