A Pig in His Pen

Amish Country, Indiana—April, 2018

I have a number of men I see only occasionally, but I still consider them regulars for the play picks up from where we last left off.  Such is the man who I first met by “raping” him at his farmhouse in the middle of the all those cornfields.  I had last used him in October with another leather top.  (You can find all our meets by hitting “farmhouse” in the label cloud.)

He wrote me out of the blue.  He told me he had been playing with some large toys for the last few months and wanted to show off his muscle hole to me.  He was sure that my hand would now fit into his slender ass with no problem.  While he had a good basement playroom, I decided to take my fuck bench and rimseat, to add to his sling and tableful of toys.

He was very quiet when I arrived, with barely a mumbled hello.  He helped carry things down to the basement.  I did the set up as it’s simply faster than telling another person what piece I need next.  And the boy was fine with being on his knees, head down, gazing at the floor.  I stripped down to the jock I am making filthy for a reader in Canada.  It is discolored and reeks of piss and sweat.  We started play with my grabbing the back of his head and bringing his face and open mouth onto the yellowed pouch of the jock…

“Get it wet,” I tell him.  “Make all those juices come back to life.”

He hungrily does what I ask.  His tongue runs over the rough fabric.  The smell is totally intoxicating him.  My cock grows in the pouch as he mouths me ravenously.  It finally protrudes.  I move his head so he can lick the head of my dick.  I squeeze my balls and give him a drop of pre-cum to add to the flavors in his mouth. 

Now he’s sucking me properly.  All the way to the root every time.  He holds himself down on me, with me filling his throat—daring himself to finally choke.  He never does.  He pulls off me each time with strand after strand of deep spit.  My fingers wipe some off his chin.  My now slick fingers fuck his mouth.

“Get up on the bench.”  He does—pushing his jock framed ass towards me.  I unleash a huge stream of piss.  I play it up and down his ass crack.  He’s mumbling something I can’t make out.  When I run out of piss, I get on my knees and begin rimming his hole.  I don’t clean him up much—I just push some piss into his hole.

“Fuck that piss into me,” he whimpers.  “Fuck me.”

I ignore him and keep licking and spitting.  Finally, I stand up and enter him.  Not particularly gently.  “Take it.”

“Yes, Sir.  Fuck me with that big dick!”

He feels great.  He’s very wet—from me and his own lube.  I swear his ass lubricates just by sucking my dick.  I pull out of his hole.  This is the reason I wanted the bench.  I want easier ass to mouth than the sling provides.  He hungrily sucks me clean and asks for more.  I go back to his hole and fuck a few more strokes. 

I bring it back to his face again and again.  I leave his hole frothy—as if he has a cumload already in him.  Some days that might be true, but I don’t think it is today.  The last time I bring his ass juices to his mouth, I find I can piss a little more—so I feed him a couple of spurts as a reward for being a good boy.

I fuck him another round, but add the egg-headed dildo first.  His ass takes the toy and me easily.

I stop fucking.  I grab a paddle and start softly warming his ass cheeks with it.  They grow from white to pink to very red…and very warm to the touch when I switch to my hand.  I chug Gatorade between each blow.  When his ass is crimson, I tell him to get off the bench and under the rimseat. 

I lower the toilet seat, framing his face.  I stand astride his chest.  “Open your mouth.”  He does.  I shoot a stream of very clear piss straight into his mouth.  He gurgles happily, trying desperately to swallow fast enough.  He can’t—he gives up and enjoys having some of it cascade over his goateed chin. 

I sit on his wet face and tell him to eat my hole.  The warmth of the piss feels great on my ass as he starts to eat me out.  I crack open the fresh bottle of Jungle Juice he always has for me when he knows I’m coming.  I know it opens my hole for him.  He grunts and moans and mumbles again as he uses his tongue to give me pleasure.

 I keep drinking as he rims me.  I want to feed him a load truly direct from the tap.  I finish the bottle and move to stand up.

“Take another hit, Sir.” 

I settle back down and uncap the poppers once more.  It’s my turn to moan as he seems to spear me with his tongue…

*****

He’s in the sling. 

I fuck him. 

I use a medium sized toy on him—hating the nasty pinkness of its “flesh” coloring.

I fuck him.

I use an ass tunnel.  It goes in easily…and I enjoy my cock popping through the open end of it deep into his guts.

I let his legs rest by getting him out of the sling.  He goes to his knees and I feed him the fresh piss load.  This time he swallows every drop.

Only then does he get back in the sling and my hand replaces my cock.

He takes my left hand easily.  A little longer for my slightly bigger right hand to snap into his hole.

I try to work my cock in with my hand…but back off that idea.

I settle for a stretch of my left in him and four fingers of my right gliding over my wrist and up into his wet hole.

Again and again.

But I am running out of time—we’ve been playing for a couple of hours now.

I pull my hands out and stroke my dick back to full hardness.

I breed him quickly.

And tell me to keep my seed in him all night.