Reunion With Ross: "Try for a Double"

 North of Home—January, 2024

 

It is likely that I picked up my cold at either of the two visits to the bookstore on Dec 31 or January 1.  I felt lousy and had a nose that wouldn’t stop running (unless you counted the evenings in bed where all that mucus slid down my throat instead.)  I worried that I would have to cancel my planned meeting with Ross.

Sometime after I got back from New Jersey, we had set up a date for January 6.  I looked back in the blog and found that we had not seen each other since August of 2022.  We are both busy men, but neither of us could believe it had been that long.  But better, we both knew it was time to make up for lost time.  I agreed to come to his place to the north of me.

I let him know how I was feeling at the top of the week—and then sent occasional reports as things improved.  I really was back to my usual self by our Saturday, just a little tired from the sleep I lost due to the congestion.  I tossed the sling in the car, remembering the mirror for above the frame, and set off…

 

Ross is looking good.  But there is no denying we’ve both aged a little since our last meet.  He is tall and lanky, with a handsome face.  He is younger that I am, but we are in the same decade.  There is a shade more gray in his hair, that is now cut shorter than before.

I set up the sling in his bedroom, where the bed already has a fuck sheet on it.  Ross is making me a pot of tea out in the kitchen.  I strip down in his office and find him on his knees, naked, waiting for me.   My boots sound loud on the hard wood floor which is protected by my tarp and a sheet.  I push my jock pouch into his face.  He inhales.  Groans.  And exhales.  Before he begins to lick.  His tongue covers the loose weave of the fabric.  Getting me wet.   Getting me hard.

Soon, he is sucking my rampant cock jutting out of the side of the pouch.  I can’t help but throat fuck him for a moment.  He gags and grins.

“Get up on the bed.”

Ross stands and leans, chest to mattress, his long legs in a wide stance on the floor.  I go to my knees and begin to eat his hole.  It is such a responsive one.  I can’t stop thinking about working it to make his rose open up and bloom.  But not yet.  I simply fuck him with my tongue. 

I stand and fuck him with my cock.  He groans out his pleasure.

“Get all the way up on the bed.”

He does, on all fours.  I use my tongue again on his freshly fucked hole.  Then my dick.  He’s a shade high, so my booted foot swings up and plants itself on the mattress by his head.  Ross groans at the sight.  At the dominance.  This gives me a great angle to fuck, and Ross responds to every thrust by working his talented ass.

I pull out.  Ross rolls onto his back, spins and hangs his head over the side of the bed.  I fuck his face this way until we are both gasping…

*

Ross is in the sling and ready—with two different brands of poppers.  I eat his hole.  It is just beginning to gape.  I stand up and fuck.  I work a finger in alongside my cock.  I hold it still and keep my cock pumping.  It feels good to both of us.  I add another finger.  Now three.  I love the added stimulation along the shaft of my thrusting dick.

I pull out.  I brought the stainless-steel drum stick of a toy that GaryM had given me.  It goes into him easily.  This is new to me.  It has no give. It is unforgiving in how it plows into him.  Ross is fine with how I’m using it.  In and out.  I wonder about adding my cock in with it, but I don’t.

We break for a moment, leaving Ross in the sling.  I drink more of the tea, hydrating.  I go to my knees and taste his open hole.  He pushes out.  His enormous rosebud flirts with opening for me.  In thanks for that, I stand up and fuck him.  Hard and fast.  Ross’ eyes are riveted to the mirror, watching my dick slice into him.

I pull out.  I add the cock sleeve over my shaft that supersizes the girth of my already thick cock.  I grease it liberally before pumping it into Ross.  He takes it easily—though I can see his eyes widen as he takes it.  Watching it all in the mirror.

I go to my knees and tongue his hole.  He pushes out.  The rosebud is in full flower—and so big I can’t get it all in my mouth…

*

It’s hands now.  Alternating hands.  Alternating with my dick.  Back and forth.

Left.  Left and cock.  Stroking it inside him.  Using the words… “I’m jerking inside you…” Watching Ross’ eyes roll up into his head.

I grease up the eggheaded dildo of mine.  It’s glides in so easily now, this late in the proceedings.  But it’s still a good stretch when my cock goes in with it.   And it gives my hands a rest.  I fuck him with the toy of above my cock.  And below. 

Left hand.  Right.  Now, left hand deep in him with a fist.  I add three fingers of the Right sliding down my wrist to stretch.  Repeat.  Then with the Right and fingers from my Left.  Back and forth.

More tea, though I can hardly hold onto the mug with all the K Lube.

I fuck him.  His hole has been so filled—and now it’s just my dick ravaging him.  I slow the thrusting.  I’m just slightly rocking into him now.  “Here it comes…” and my cock begins spraying piss deep inside him.  I empty my bladder of all the tea I’ve drunk.

“And now I’m going to fist it out of you.”

I grease up my hands anew.  Left.  Right.  Each pulls out a small splash of piss as it leaves him, dumping it on the towel and tarp below us…

*

I am beginning to feel a little tired.  I don’t have my full stamina back, after all.

“Try for a double,” he murmurs.

I do.  Left first.  Slide the right down my wrist and into him.  It works.  He is stretched with my full hands both inside him, open and palm to palm.

Repeat.

And again, this time with no poppers.

We move to few rounds of punch fisting.  The fist going in as a fist.

But now his hole is as tired as I am.

We call it a night and sit down to the delicious turkey soup that has been simmering on the stove, waiting for us pigs to finish…