Monday, October 10, 2016

Back to the Farmhouse

Amish Country, IN—August, 2016

I picked up an additional job at the end of summer, taking me back into Amish country.  I immediately wrote the pig with the terrific playroom in his farmhouse’s basement.  He was all for a meet.  I dropped my things at my motel, ate a light dinner and went to ravage him.

He was stoked.  He gets very little play from the Amish men in the area.  He knew 48 hours before I was there.  So he fasted.  He cleaned out.  He was so ready to take my tongue, my cock and my fist…

He’s in the sling.  Blindfolded.  I make my way down the dark stairs and stare at the spread-eagled ass in front of me.  I undo my belt noisily.  I take in his black and red harness.  The fully mounded pouch of his white jock—chosen so it will show my piss.  I pause after I pop the top button of my jeans.  I can’t help myself.  I kneel and stick my tongue as deep as I can into his hole.

“Argh!  Fuck, yeah.”  His breath quickens.  “Eat me out.  Yeah—just like that.”

I stand up and pull my dick out.  I hose his ass crack down.  It sluices down his ass cleft and splatters on the towels laid out on the concrete below.  I hunker down and clean him up with my tongue.  I grab a tiny (for him) dildo from the table.  I grease it as I lick his hole some more.  I stand up and insert the toy.  Roughly.  To keep him full as I finish undressing.

I take a long drink of a Gatorade he has thoughtfully set out for me under the toy table.  I look at the huge collection of ass toys he inserts up this butt himself when he can find no one else willing to play.
I get naked but for my jock and put the boots back on.  I have worn the jock I am filling with my juices for a blog reader.  It is pretty rank.  I walk to the head of the sling.  I bend his head my way and press the pouch into his open mouth.  He chews the fabric like I have just given him a delicacy.  He can’t get enough.

“Get it good and wet.”  I tell him I that after our fuck, I want to press it up his cum filled pussy—to soak up all our juices for my reader.

“That’s so hot.  You should make one for me.”

I pull the pouch aside and let him have my dick. 

But head with a guy in as sling is almost always a bad angle.

I go back to his ass and slide the dildo out.  My cock is wet enough to go right in.  I fuck him.  Long deep strokes.  I fuck him hard. 

I feel something change.  I pull out.

He is spectacularly dirty.  Not just a little.  I get the blindfold off him and he runs up the stairs.  I clean at the laundry tubs in the corner.

He’s gone forever.  Finally, I hear slow footsteps coming down the stairs.

“I over cleaned,” he tells me.  “I used too much water—all trapped in the upper chamber.  It’s started a whole new cycle—I won’t be clean for hours.”

I regretfully pack and leave.


But I’m horned.  What do I do?  I know I won’t get anyone to my country hotel.  I head to South Bend and go to the biggest of the cities bookstores.

It’s a week night. And late when I get there.  The arcade is almost deserted.

I find a grey haired Daddy stroking to bi porn.  We trade blow jobs.

“I really want you to fuck me.”  But in the next breath he tells me he isn’t prepared.

We take a break. 

Eventually I swallow his load.


I sit alone in a booth.  Door unlocked.  Stroking to a gay gangbang movie.

There is no one.

The door finally opens.  A middle- aged Black man.  In good shape.  He’s relieved to see someone actually in the arcade—and with a big cock.  He drops his shorts—taking them all the way off and tossing them on the couch.  His cock is hard.  His foreskin is big enough that it still covers the cock head with his cock erect. 

It goes into my mouth.  Work as hard as I can with my tongue, I can’t get it to retract.  But there’s no odor or taste.  I redouble my efforts.

I am sucking him towards orgasm quickly.

“Stop,” he pants.  “I want to taste yours, too.”

He gives me some good head—but it gets him even hotter.  He pulls off me with a hissed “I’m cumming.”

He stands up and I dive for his cock.  There are no spurts.  It all collects in his foreskin.  My tongue works on his extra skin until most of his seed drips out of his tight opening and onto my tongue.


I never did get off that night.

But I felt worse for my host with his limited play options.

If you haven’t read about him in Forced Entry or Flogging, Fucking and Fisting at the Farmhouse, I have linked them here:  F. Entry  & FFF@F.

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