My Playroom—October, 2016
After all the hot play I had in September, I shouldn’t have been surprised that I had a couple of less satisfying hook ups at the top of October.
The first wrote me from Detroit. He was willing to make the trip to west Michigan if I would dominate him. “I am ready for my first piss experience. I want to try your piss down my throat and all especially some CBT. We agreed on a day and time.
Duncan shot me a text as he left metro Detroit as requested. I had two hours to tank up on my usual mix of Gatorade, hot tea and water—more than enough time. He arrived right at the appointed hour, always a good sign. He was around my age, but a good deal shorter with a lithe body and a shaved head. He knew just what he wanted. We stripped. He sucked me to hardness, begging to try my piss. I wanted to test it first. I got him on the bench. I ate his hole, pissed on it and licked it off him. It was strong—strong like I had done nothing to prepare. I did not want that to be his first taste. I finished cleaning his crack with my tongue and fucked him.
I drank a lot more. Fucked more. Pissed more, but couldn’t make my piss clear. We did it all in the sling, too. I pissed more. Still strong. At that point, it became all I could think about and that made the hardness of my cock problematic. I pulled out, pissed on his crack and balls, licked it up and stroked myself back to full strength. I fucked him until he came.
I pissed his ass crack again. And had him sit on the rimseat. Still strong. He got hard again as I ate him.
I beat his balls in the sling.
I stretched out on the bed and let him sit on my cock. He rode me until he came again.
With no more piss.
He left—without me getting off. And my piss cleared, two hours after it should have.
And I pissed clear all night.
North of Home—October, 2016
He’d talked to me for two years. He was a deer hunter who came to this area from Detroit. He wanted my cock, but was concerned about barebacking. While I didn’t say “ no,” I didn’t try very hard to mesh our schedules. The next year he thought he was ready to take me raw, but we truly had major scheduling problems—so it never happened. This year it worked out…
I meet him at his hotel. It’s an older, 50’s style motor court. I find his door. It’s cracked open. I go in. I can just see him on his knees, naked, right at the edge of the double bed. I close the door.
It’s dark. Really dark, now. I undo my fly. My cock goes into his mouth. He gives good head. I begin to see a little better. He’s bearish/cubbish. Dark hair. Early 40’s. I reach down his back and my finger connects with his hole. He groans. I pull my spit slicked dick out of his mouth and tell him to get up on the bed. I get out of my boots and pants. I leave my shirt on and slip back into my boots and do a quick tie of them.
I kneel behind his proffered ass. My tongue runs up and down the hairy crack. I find his hole and drill into it. “Fuck, that feels good, he groans, grabbing a pillow and stuffing a corner of it into his mouth. I spit and stand up. My drooling cock head hits his hole. His head shoots up: “Fuck me raw, but don’t cum in me.” I grunt ascent with a sigh and keep pushing in.
He takes me easier than all his talk of being so tight.
I bottom out.
“Wait, please. Let me sit on you.” He bends forward and off my dick. I lie down on the unmade bed and let him mount me. He slides on just like, I can only assume, he does with his dildos. He rides me for a moment. I reach up and tweak his nipples.
And he shoots all over me. It’s a hefty load.
“You should never have touched my nipples.”
“Can you take more?”
“No. I’m done. And I need to get out to hunt anyway.”
I clean up and leave.
Less than 30 minutes.
Not even close to getting off.