Sex Amid the Clutter

 Detroit—October, 2021

We spoke on Asspig, the fisting site.  We talked about what we liked to do.  We seemed like a good match—he loved fisting and he had a sling.  He wanted my dick, too, not just my hand.  He asked if I would be ok with other men being there.  Of course.  I tend not to travel into Metro Detroit lately, but I made an exception and said yes.  Of course, he was on the east side—the farthest possible for me—but off I went on a Monday morning for an afternoon of play…

 

I turn on his street—right on time.  But I cannot find the house number he has given me.  I call him.  “Didn’t I tell you, East _______?  You must be on West.”  I look at the address he’d typed.  There is no east or west for the street name.  I mutter under my breath, as I re-trace my steps, cross the six lane boulevard that divides the city, and find his house.  He greets me.  He is a rather doughy white man around my age—but he looks like his picture—and I am fine with getting to know what looked like a hot ass that could take a good workout.

We sit for a millisecond in his living room.  It looks like there is a major renovation happening.  Stuff is everywhere.

“The sling is in the basement.” 

I follow him down the steps, picking my way through a path of paint cans, unfinished projects and Christmas decorations sticking out of garbage bags lining the stairs.  The basement is low.  I can’t stand erect except between the beams.  We go through the laundry area which is as cluttered as the stairs.  In a small room beyond it is the sling. I see a table top which is clear enough for me to set my bag and leave my clothes.  Standing up from taking my boots off, I nearly knock myself out on a low heating duct.

He jumps in the sling.  Oblivious.

I strip and quickly get the boots back on after I see the sawdust (and who knows what else) covered floor.  I take my speculum and the eggheaded dildo to a low table by the sling.  I kneel carefully and lean in to eat his ass.  It looks tempting and tastes better.  At last.  I will myself to get over the drive, the address mix up and the look of this space and have some good sex.

But my dick rebels; he is still pissed as fuck.  So I eat the guy’s hole and grease up my hands.  I do some fingering and lateral stretching to see how much he can take.  I get only as far as two fingers from each hand.

“Could you stop that?  I won’t be able to take your hand.”

“I thought you said…”

“I love the pervy people on that site,” he continues, not listening to me.

He goes back to humming something off key and doing poppers.

My dick is getting there.  I stand up, careful to stand between the beams.  But I collide with a mirror that hangs awkwardly from the sling frame.  I grunt and slip my dick into him.

“You are big.  Damn.”

The phone buzzes. He reaches for it.  “He’s here.  Just so you know, he can be kind of odd…”

A tall Black man, half our age, tromps down the stairs and finds us.  He grunts at the host and looks me up and down with distaste.  He does not undress—but unzips and sticks his soft cock in the host’s mouth.  I continue to fuck.

“Suck my dick right.”

The host tries harder.

“This isn’t working.  I want you on the bed.”  The Black man leads the way upstairs—and on up to the second story.  The new parts of the house are just as cluttered…and the bedroom is actually dirty with food drying on plates, glasses half full, and beer bottles around the room.  Laundry is on the floor everywhere.  The other top lays down on the unmade bed.  Out host gets on all fours to suck him and let me have his ass.

I fuck.  The host finally gets some response from the flaccid penis in his mouth.  I offer the ass to the top—too soon I realize—he’s not particularly hard.  He gets huffy and storms out.

The host grabs his phone.  “Jim is due any minute.  Let’s go back downstairs.”

And we sit in the cluttered living room for him. 

A good looking white guy, rather Italianate, maybe forty, arrives.  He knows the host and is ready to fuck.  He likes the look of me.  He strips down as we troop back to the sling in the basement.  I eat ass as the new guy strips.  Once he is naked, he sticks his cock in the host’s mouth.  I stand up.  I avoid the mirror and the beams and narrowly miss hitting my head on this shorter sling frame.

I fuck.  The other top loves watching me.  “I wish I’d known you were so big, I would have cleaned out myself.” 

I smile and offer the host’s ass to him.

He comes around and fucks him with his tiny cock.  (Sorry, there is no other word for it.)  And he cums.  Almost instantly.

“Fuck in my cum.”

I have had enough.  I slide into the wet hole, pump three times and fake an orgasm.  It sounds real—even to my practiced ears.

I am dressed—and out the door—without hitting my head on anything else.