Blake Visits the Playroom for the First Time

 My Playroom—November, 2025

For the first half of November, I could barely get someone to come to the playroom.  The second half of the month was just the opposite; I had a steady stream of men.  First up was a man around my age, who was taller (!), with a great beard.  We had spoken on both BBRT and AssPig.  He was looking to give his hole a workout.  And that’s just what I wanted to do…

 

Blake is stripping off in the playroom.  I sit on the fuck bench (lowered to its table position.)  As soon as he is naked, he kneels.  He inhales the musk of the jock—and moans in the back of his throat.  He begins to lick around the edges of the pouch.  It’s my turn to moan.  I let him explore for a bit, but soon I want more.  I pull back the stained fabric and my growing erection springs up.  Blake grunts and begins to lick up the shaft.  Slowly.  Taking his time.  He finally arrives at my dripping piss slit.  He licks across it before digging into it.

I groan.  “Take my dick, man…”

He ignores me and continues licking—now down the shaft and to my heavy balls.  He tongues them thoroughly.  Then he sucks them, individually, into his mouth.  One.  The other.  Back and forth.  The hair on my testicles is coated with his spit.  He works his tongue under them, licking my cock ring.  I sigh and squeeze his shoulder.

Now he works up the shaft once more.  This time he deep throats me.  It is worth the wait.  He takes my entire length down his throat.  Again and again.

“I need to eat your ass.  Let’s change places.”

He gets on all fours on the padded table the moment I stand up.  I kneel and begin slowly tonguing down his ass crack.  I avoid his pucker the first time.  On the second slow trip down I zero in on his hole.  Almost instantly it begins to open; to flower—giving me ass lips to tongue and suck.  I make him groan.  I notice that he has found the mirror on the side wall so he can watch me use his ass.

I stand up, my cock dripping with precum and coconut oil.  I slide in.  Blake groans.  His ass is wet and hot.  I begin a slow pump the moment I bottom out.  His ass continues to open.  He squeezes down on my invading dick.  I grunt—and fuck him harder.

He is ready, even this fast, for something bigger than me in his ass.  The Ballistic Butt Bomb is the easiest thing to grab while I stay deep in his hole.  I work myself out and grease the toy.  He takes the stainless-steel head of the toy with ease.  He loves it when I add my rock-hard penis back into him, fucking along the thin shaft until the head of me bashes into the steel ball in his ass.  Over and over.

We switch to the sling.  I spend a long time eating his juicy hole once he’s comfortably in it.  I fuck him when I’m done.  I love how different his hole feels with him on his back and not on all fours.  Not better.  Just different. 

I reluctantly pull out and grab the medium speculum.  It is cool to the touch—and I tell him so.  I grease it up, slip it in and begin the slow crank open.  As soon as I can fit a finger in, I play with his prostate after each turn of the thumbscrew.  Now it’s big enough to add my cock.  I stand up and push in.  He moans.  The metal is no longer cool.  It is the same temperature as his hot ass.  I fuck, loving the combined feel of flesh and metal.  I eventually pull out and crank it open one more turn—and fuck him again.

I now go to the traditional black butt plug.  He takes it easily.  I use the Ballistic Butt Bomb as a mallet and beat the flat base of the toy inside him.  He loves the vibrations I produce.

I switch to the bigger three tier plug.  He takes the first two sections with ease.  I work the last, biggest one, slowly into his guts.  He takes it with a sigh.  I beat, more lightly, on the end of this toy too.  Blake groans.

He’s ready for my hand.  I grease up my left.  Two fingers.  Three.  I add the fourth.  I move slowly, still stretching his hole.  I grease up the right hand.  Three fingers from each slide in, my knuckles together—palms out.  I do the same stretch manually that the speculum did.  I pull the right out and bend my thumb on my left hand to the palm.  My hand slips into him.  I turn slightly and pull out with a slight twist.  I do it again.  And again.  Now with the right.  He takes me quite easily.

To change things ups I grab the clear dildo with a handle.  It’s easy to hold, with my greasy hands.  He loves the swell in the shaft—and the length open his second hole.

I go back to my left hand.  I open my hand inside him and my middle finger can play around his second hole.  He groans again.  I pull out and use the clear toy once more.  Then my hand.  I alternate the two for some time.

I grab the newest toy, one that I finally took out of its box.  It is a series of mini butt plugs on a thin shaft.  His hole gobbles it up.  I should have used it much earlier in our play.

He says he like the look of the first dildo I ever bought—a toy I find hard and inflexible.  But he loves it.  I work it deep.

I go back to my hands.  I try for adding my cock, but it’s not an easy angle—so I concentrate on alternating my left and right hands.

We take a break, cleaning his up of all the extra lube.

I set up the rimseat.  I tell him I want to eat his ass as we relax.  I get under, lying on the soft mat.  He closes the seat and sits down.  His long legs might make this low seat slightly uncomfortable.  But he forgets it, the moment my tongue goes deep into his hole.  Deeper than it’s been in any other position.  He moans.  I groan.  I eat his juicy ass.  I can’t get enough.  I lick and moan and tongue fuck him.  There is a steady drip of his juices mixed with coconut oil and it is making my harder and harder with each drop.

I finally tell him I need to fuck.  He gets up and he’s into the sling before I can fully stand.

“Breed me,” he mutters.

He’s read my mind.  I am so horned I can’t stand it.  I slip inside Blake and begin to pump.

“I really want your load,” he mutters.

And he’s going to get it.  Any moment. I pick up the pace of my thrusts.

“Oh….shit…!!!”

I’m there.  My cock bucks into him.  I am no longer in control.  My balls empty into his warm and wet hole…

History: Finding My Way

I am back to my personal history today.  Last time, right at the end of November, Mike and I had sex—and he decided he was in love with me…

Thanksgiving happened—and on Sunday November 28, 1976 (I diligently note in my journal) Mike called me.  He wanted to go to Detroit.  I said yes.  We went with Paul, who I remember absolutely nothing about, and Patty—the self-proclaimed Fag Hag of my brother’s friends.  We went to Menjo’s the dance bar. Then on to Gigi’s.  This bar was as grungy as the Flame, but it had a dance floor.  Mike and I danced to the blasting disco.  When the music turned slow and romantic, I opted out.  He was angry, but quickly found an obliging waiter.  They slow danced and pawed each other.  Did he really think this would make me like him more?

That night was also my first drag show.  My 19 year old self didn’t know quite what to make of it.  Occasionally funny—but I hated lip syncing.  Still do.

Since Mike had no privacy at his shared apartment, Paul said we could crash on his couch.  There was just room for the two of us.  Mike gave me a blow job—and it must have been good as it got me off.  I note in my journal ‘that I didn’t have the strength to reciprocate.’  I would love to know now if that was real or feigned.

That night was memorable for one other reason.  In the shower the next day, back at the dorm, I found I had crabs.  Mike, too.  Paul’s couch was the culprit.  A quick call to my brother—and a trip to the drugstore…

I saw Mike again on Saturday night.  He came to see me in a college production.  He’d gotten his shared apartment to himself for the night.  He fucked me—until the phone rang and he totally lost his erection.  As a young man, I really liked the idea of taking another guy inside me.  The issue was, each time I tried, the reality did not meet my fantasy of it.  At all.

It was a struggle to get out of there on Sunday morning—as I had no car and was dependent on him to get me home.  He really wanted a relationship—to be my boyfriend.  I wanted a friend.  A friend with benefits, if the term had been invented back them.  I didn’t want to be just a trick—but his erratic behavior (like the waiter) was not helping me form any kind of bond.

Christmas.  Semester break.  December 30, 1976.  I was now 20.  Theo and I spent the day shopping in Ann Arbor with my brother.  Mostly records and books.  We had lunch and dinner at his apartment.  Theo was entranced with him—as I looked on.  My brother decided, even though it was a Thursday night, we should go to the Rubaiyat, the dance bar.  He dug out a University of Michigan Sweatshirt and put it on underage Theo.  We got in with no issues.  Theo was entranced.  He was the Disco Queen.  In his element.  He rarely left the dance floor—partnered by my brother, or me, or some man of the moment.

I drove my brother’s car back to his apartment while he sat in the back seat with Theo and made out with him.  I expected the rearview mirror to steam up any moment. I then drove Theo back to our hometown in my dad’s car—as he babbled on and on about the night.  I was hurt—but put on a brave face.  I had no claim on Theo, after all…

We were back at my brother’s place the next evening for New Year’s Eve.  It was an uneasy night.  All the men in his circle were there—with a lot of drinking.  I’d met most of them by this point.  The whole night was uneasy (and unrequited) with Theo wanting my brother, me wanting Theo and Mike wanting me.

January 4, 1977.  A Tuesday night and Mike asked me to go to the Rubaiyat.  I agreed.  He was always late when picking me up.  Every time.  But not tonight.  He was right on time and in a great mood.  On the drive from University to disco, he gave me a package.  (I’d given him one the night before.)  There was a leather notebook, a framed picture made of dried flowers and a scroll (all the rage in the 70’s) with some generic ‘words of wisdom’ on it.  I thanked him and he was all a glow.  We parked and, still in a great mood, we went into the disco.  Instantly, he saw three old tricks at a table across the room and left me alone for the rest of the night.  I was dumbfounded.  My brother arrived.  We danced a bit.  He rolled his eyes about Mike and all but said “you can do better…”  I don’t know who got me home that night, but I am guessing my brother.

January 13, a Thursday night.  Mike was later than ever in picking me up.  I was waiting in the freezing parking lot, not knowing what was up in this age before cell phones.  He arrived and turned off his car.  Now it wouldn’t start.  Repeatedly.  Finally, it did.  We drove to the Rubaiyat and it was dead.  My brother arrived.  Angry.  I don’t know what the beef was, but he pulled Mike into a corner and verbally let him have it.   Mike stayed away from me for a good 30 minutes after it.  The only fun moment of the evening was a hot guy Mike and my brother couldn’t stop ogling and talking about.  When the two of them went off to dance (with other men, not together) l was left alone at the table.  The hot guy came to my table and was all over me, asking if I wanted to go home with him.  I considered it—but my insecurity kicked in and I told him no.  He was taken home by Paul.  I wonder if he got crabs…?

January 15, 1977.  Mike called wondering about a trip to Menjo’s and then to the bathhouse in Detroit with my brother.  I panicked.  I mastered it and surprisingly said ‘yes.’  We drove down.  At Menjo’s, my brother and I were ready to dance with Mike off in the restroom.  He came racing back to the table.  Jerry was here.  (Remember him?  Supposedly the love of my brother’s life.)  Jerry joined us then—and all seemed fine.  I knew for a fact my brother was sleeping with other men.  Jerry asked where else we might go tonight.  My brother shrugged.  Jerry said he wanted an early night—and off he went.

We danced.

We had a midnight fast food snack and arrived at the Club Baths just after 1:00am.  My brother got a room.  Mike got a room.  I went to the window—and was given a locker as the rooms were now gone.  Mike told me to leave my clothes in his room.  I wrapped that towel around my thin waist so tightly.  I was surprised by how tiny the rooms were, the age of the mattresses, how thin the sheet was they gave the guys who rented the room.

My brother gave me the tour—and I quote from my journal: “First floor:  entrance, TV room, vending machines.  Down a flight of stairs:  sauna—wet and dry, showers.  Down another flight of stairs, lockers and the whirlpool.  Second floor:  20 rooms and the blacked-out orgy room.  Third floor:  the same.”

We were standing on the second floor.  In the course of our tour, I found almost all the men from the New Year’s Eve party in attendance, each glad to see us.  My brother told me I should make myself comfortable and likely stay out of the orgy room.  I nodded.

At the top of the third-floor landing, who should appear but Jerry.  He came down the stairs, rather regally.  My brother said ‘Hello’ and Jerry kept walking.  It was over.  They never spoke again—and it didn’t dampen his mood one iota.

Mike went off to play.  As did my brother to the second-floor orgy room.  I wandered.  Doors were open.  Men showing off ass or cock.  I erected under my towel, but I didn’t make the first move.  I finally I sat in the television room (it was true TV, not porn back then.)   Art, a friend of my brother’s who I’d met in the autumn of the previous year, found me.  We talked.  He asked if I’d tried out of the facilities?  I whispered a ‘no.’ Then he asked if I’d like to come to his room for a cigarette.  (God, in 1977 they could smoke in those tiny rooms—and with the whole place being a fire trap!!)  I said ok—but that I didn’t smoke.

We went up the stairs.  Towels were shed.  “Fuck, you’re just like your brother.  You need to fuck me.”  I’m sure we sucked each other for a bit first as I knew I could do that.  I fucked him.  And came up his ass.  Very fast.  Another first.  But I hated the shit on my dick.  *

But I liked fucking.  I liked being on top of his hairy chest and rubbing myself on it.   And his hot hole on my dick felt wonderful.

I grabbed my towel, cleaned up and opened the door.  There was my brother, and three of his friends.  They all smiled and chuckled.  Art came out fully naked and told them he loved my dick.  His words were just what I needed.

I spent some time in the whirlpool and tried to sleep in Mike’s cold room under the wafer-thin sheet.  I think we were there for 12 hours—and my brother was going to use every minute of it.

I was given my membership card as we left.  I never went back—but it was a huge step for me…

*A small digression here.  Cleaning out your ass in the late 1970’s, in Michigan, was not something guys did.  Not the ones I knew.  I could believe men in bigger gay areas might have figured it out.  My brother, who should know, told me that he saw the change in the very early 1980’s.  Magazines like Torso and In Touch were talking to the brand-new stars of the fledgling porn industry.  They talked about douching their hole for the camera.  And suddenly everyone, comparatively, was doing the same.

Notes from a Tired Top: Sean Harding's Ass, etc.

 It was a long night, last night.  A good one…

I was planning on writing the next post in my Coming Out History series today, but I just haven’t had the time to decipher the cramped and tiny cursive scrawl of my journal.  It will contain quite a few ‘firsts.’  Soon—I promise.

Instead, I have some pictures for you.  First, we have two of Sean Harding’s ass.  This was the gorgeous butt I got to fuck twice during the Fornication Party detailed in the last two posts.  Check out the drip in the second one…

The last is just a great picture—something I wish I was doing on this very cold day in Michigan…

Fornication Party in Chicago: The Wet and Sticky Ending

 Chicago—November, 2025

(This picks up where we left off in the last post…)

My tongue can’t really tell if there’s cum in this ass, but my cock loves the idea.  It drips and I smear it around the head.  I stand up and enter the guy.  Only then do I see the tats and recognize that I’m fucking Sean Harding.  His generous ass envelops every inch of my cock.

He lazily looks back to see who is filling his butt.  He nods to me and then looks away, a look of satisfaction on his face.  I pick up my speed.  My balls are slapping his gorgeous ass.  I slow—and then pull out.  I go to my knees again.  Now I know there is a load in there.  It is trickling out of him.  I lick it up before I begin tongue fucking him again.

When I stand up to fuck, I notice another man jerking his cock as he watches me.

“Do you want to take a turn?” I ask him.

He nods.  I step to the side.  The guy sinks into Sean.  He moans.  He fucks him fast and hard.  Sean pushes back on the guy—and gets another load.  The guy vocalizes his orgasm, holding onto Sean’s hips for dear life.  He pulls out the moment he can breathe again.  He won’t let me clean his cock, but I have a feast of cum out of Sean’s ass.  I make sure to save some of the jizz—and fuck it deeper into the handsome man…

*

Keshawn finds me one more time.  This time we use a spanking bench.  It’s easy, with his long legs, to bend over and just use it as support.  I love how stretched his hole is.  He’s taken a lot of cock tonight.  And I’ve seen him using his big dick on a lot of men.  I spend quite some time on my knees, eating him out and making him moan.

I stand up and slide in.  It’s an easy glide, he’s awash with lube and spit and, maybe, a load.  I pump in and out—using my full length.  I slap his generous butt cheek.  The thwack is a nice accent to the sexual soundscape of the busy room.  I pull out, go to my knees and begin to tongue fuck him.  Keshawn squirms, then reaches back and helps spread his left cheek open so I can go deeper.

Cum oozes from him.  I am not greedy.  I sample some, but then work it back into him with my tongue.  I spit into his ass, stand up and push the rest of the cum back into his butt—as deep as my cock can get it…

*

“There you are.”

It’s a handsome man who’d found me on BBRT a few days ago.  We’d chatted.  He was a reader—and he wanted to buy one of my jocks.  I had brought one for him.  I had done the party so far with it stuck in the back waistband of my chaps.  I pull it out and he opens the bags and drinks in the musky smell of my dick—and all the ass juices the fabric has collected.

“Perfect,” he tells me and hands me the bills.  I stuff them in my sock.  He has a great ass on him, but right now, he wants to go put his new purchase in the bag with his clothes.  But he finds me again as soon as that’s accomplished.  “I’m tight, but I want that cock.”

We are at the same fuck bench where I fucked Sean Harding.  He gets up on it—his ass is gorgeous and full, an athlete’s ass.  I kneel and go to work.  He responds to the invasion of my tongue with a low moan.  He reaches back and spreads his full cheeks.  I tongue fuck him for a long time—making my dick the hardest it’s been all night.

I stand up.  I work my cockhead into him.  And then out.  Then in again.  He’s tight.  I begin to talk to him in a low voice, telling him of how long I wore the jock that is now his, and how it had been to a Fornication Weekend.  I’m honestly just chatting to take his mind off my cock.  And it works.  Every inch of me is deep inside him now.

I wait.  And begin to fuck.  He’s great at squeezing down on me.  His ass has a real ‘conversation’ with my cock.  A guy is watching us.  I let him takes a turn.  I have opened him nicely for his much thinner cock.  I go back up him, after the new guy pulls out and goes off. 

“So full…” says the bubble butted guy.

And he’s right…

*

I love Fornication and really go out of my way to fuck anyone who wants me.  I fuck men my age.  I fuck guys who are just 21.  And every age in between. I fuck heavy men.  Skinny guys.  Guys of all races.  Anyone who craves cock in their ass. 

I find the guy who bought the jock on a new fuck bench, one that faces another.  On the second bench is a guy who is incredibly hairy.  I eat out this new man and watch the jock buyer take a guy inside him.  That fucker looks at me, and after a few minutes, we nod to each other and switch partners.  We groan as we each enter the new ass—their asses are so different.  One hairy, one smooth.  One wide open, the other a great muscle butt.  The other top and I can’t get enough of the differences.  We keep pulling out and switching guys.   We go round and round, enjoying the two men until, finally, we stop and let others in to play.

But 15 minutes later, I’m back and do the same thing with another top...

*

It’s getting late—at least for me.  Keshawn finds me and wonders if I have a load for him.  I actually think I do.  We find an empty sling.  He jumps in and I eat his ass.  He’s been busy since I last tasted him.  He must have several loads in him now.  My cock is rampant, tasting those other men inside him.  I stand up and slide in.  He grunts and begins beating his dick.  I fuck.  I try to start slow, but I can’t.  My hips are in control—and I let them go to work.  I let out a moan, barely conscious that I’m doing it. My cock begins spitting out a load.  It’s not a nerve shattering orgasm, but my balls need release.  I try to fuck in the cum I’ve just shot in him—but can only manage a few strokes.  I pull out and sample it.  He’s nicely loaded.  He takes off, with a hug, and I sit in a dark corner, letting my cock recover. 

I actually close my eyes for a moment.  I think about the whole night.  As I think of the men and wet asses I’ve had, my cock shows signs of life.  I really do want a full-fledged, every nerve on fire, orgasm.

I find one of the men I have been inside repeatedly over the course of the night.  He’s in his early 40’s well-built and can’t get enough cock.  He looks like he’s just about to get out of the sling.  I ask if he would like my load.

“Hell, yes! I’ve got at least four in there for you.”

I kneel.  He takes poppers.  My tongue slips into his gaping hole.  He is awash with cum.  Perfect.  Just what I need.  I lap at it.  He moans.  “Like those loads, daddy?  I want yours, too…”

I stop licking at his creamy insides and stand up.  My cock is ready.  I plunge in.  The amount of cum in him makes for an incredibly juicy fuck.  Each stroke pulls some out.  The squishy sound of my fucking turns both of us on.  I fuck.  And fuck.  And…explode.

I don’t know how much jizz I shoot in him, maybe not much, but the feeling is there.  My body is wracked with the force of the orgasm and I hold onto the sling frame for support.  I let go and collapse on his chest.  His arms wrap around me.  Strangers three and a half hours ago, but not now.

“Damn, Daddy…”

I smile.  The perfect summation of my entire evening…

Fornication Party in Chicago

 

Chicago—November, 2025

I was excited.  The Fornication Party in Chicago was scheduled for the middle of the month.  I pulled out my Frequent Fornicator card and checked the number of punches.  Three holes.  I was due for a free party.  I made the reservation, gratified to save the admission price.

On the day of the event, it was an easy drive in.  I arrived ninety minutes before the start time.  I even found free parking on a side street.  I napped for 30 minutes, reclining my driver’s side seat.  (I knew I’d need the energy!) When my alarm went off, I ate the light meal I had packed.  Soon enough, it was time to walk over to the event.

Fornication is held in what is normally a straight BDSM club.  The building is nestled behind a number of other storefronts.  I went down the steep set of stairs to get in line—and got a hug from Keshawn, who had gotten there before me.  It was a cold night—and I was glad the doors opened right on time.

I stowed my clothes in my bag and donned my chaps and vest.  I was expecting it to be cool in the club—and wanted more than my jock and boots.  I checked my bag and went behind the partition.  There was a lot of fuck furniture from the club—plus a bunch of slings rented or borrowed from MAFIA, the Chicago fisting group.  Ray Dalton had always hung sheets of plastic to create several playing areas.  Today, the slings were in a row on one side of the room and the other fuck furniture filled the rest of the space.  Lots of men commented on how they loved everything out in the open.  I know I did—I love to watch everything going on as I am plowing a hole.

I recognized a guy I’d met at my first Fornication weekend in Georgia.  There were two men from the party I go to in Grand Rapids—there first time here.  And Keshawn, looking as hot as ever…

 

A take a sip of water.  I am done mingling.  I want to eat some hole.  I find a hot younger guy in the sling in the middle of the row.  He smiles at me and takes a hit of poppers.  I kneel and begin to lick his pucker.  I had watched him get fucked during my moment of mingling.  I love that some other cock has opened his hole for me.  His ass lips are already slightly puffy.  He croons his pleasure as I suckle them.  They fill my mouth.  He must use big toys or like fisting as he can’t be over 35.  I push my tongue deeper into him.

“Fuck me, daddy…”

I stand up and slide in.  Easily, he is so wet and open.  I lock eyes with him and begin to fuck.  Slow.  Deliberate.  Full length of my cock.  In and out. 

I build the speed.  The sling creaks.  The sound brings other men away from socializing to watch us fuck. 

“Fuck him harder, Daddy,” says one of the onlookers.  He strokes his fat cock to my fucking. 

I look at him.  “Try out his hole.”  I pull out and let him go in.  I bring my wet cock to the side of the sling and the young man cranes around to taste his ass jizz on my dick. 

“You opened him good…” Fat Cock groans. 

He pumps the younger man hard and pulls out.  We switch places.  I go back up the dripping hole and Fat Cock gets cleaned up with the bottom’s busy tongue.

After two more times of going back-and-forth, we let someone new fuck the guy.

I go find Keshawn.  We start for one sling, but it’s set too low.  We move down the row and find a taller one.  He hops in and I begin to eat his glorious ass.  I can’t tell if he’s had someone in him tonight yet or not.  I just get lost in eating him out.  His generous ass cheeks envelop me.

I stand up.  He hits the poppers and I slowly enter him.  Inch by inch.  I watch the expression on his face:  concentration to elation as I bottom out.  I hold and begin a slow fuck.  In and out.  I build quickly.  Slapping my balls hard against his upturned ass.

I pull out and sink to my knees.  Fuck!  If he was wet before, he’s now incredibly juicy.  I dig in.  I lick him out and spit it back inside him.  I get some precum off my own cock head and finger it into his wetness.  He moans—knowing just what I’m doing.

I stand and fuck him again.  Really savoring his ass and how it feels on my cock.  I love watching him stroke his huge dick in time with my strokes.  I slow the fuck, pull out and lick him out one more time.

We meet throughout the night.

I wander and take a moment to get my energy back.  I watch the sex happening around me.  It’s a smaller group tonight, but a playful one.

I find a large man in the sling at the other end.  He’s been ignored.  I kneel and eat his hole.  He groans.  I fuck him—hard enough that he begs me to stop or he’ll shoot—and it’s far too early in the evening for that.  I pull out and let him suck my cock as he lays there…

*

There is a major stud fucking every bottom who is in a sling.  He and I have bumped into each other several times.  He’s likely 25 years younger, gym built and has a cock that looks very much like mine (I have a more pronounced, flared head.)  We have tag teamed a couple of guys at this point.  The guy we are currently in is a bear—50-ish and hairy.  I can’t keep out of his ass—I love the hair on my cheeks as I rim.  And I really love eating his ass after the stud pulls out. 

I stand up and fuck.  Now, the stud goes again.  This time when he pulls out, I ask if I can suck him.  He looks surprised—then pleased—and is soon groaning as my tongue cleans him of all the bear’s juices on his dick.  He holds still and pants.

When I stand up—I fuck the bear.  I pull out and let him into the guy one more time.  This time when he pulls out, he touches my shoulder—eager for me to clean his cock.

We do it throughout the night—anytime we meet at the same sling at the same time.

*

The porn guys have been very busy with this crowd.  I talk a little to Dallas Steele, who was at that Georgia Fornication Weekend.  I’m pleased he remembers me, but we don’t fuck.  I let him get back to doing what he does best.

I eat the hot ass of a man on one of the fuck benches.  His ass is glorious—and has been used heavily (about 90 minutes in.)  I feast on it.

“You taste that load?” 

It’s not the guy—but a man, my age, standing next to me, watching me lick the guy out.  “He made me shoot—he’s so hot.” 

I make a noise that sounds like agreement.  My tongue can’t really tell if there’s cum in here, but my cock loves the idea.  It drips and I smear it around the head.  I stand up and enter the guy.  Only then do I see the tats and recognize that I’m fucking Sean Harding.  His generous ass envelops every inch of my cock…

 

(More to cum!)

New Night, New Men, New Dick and Ass

 Near Home—November, 2025

It was Friday.  Work had finished up on Thursday.  I had all day.  I wrote up the All Saints’ Day post in the morning.  Out of habit, as I ate my lunch, I thought I’d go to the bookstore.  As I made tea afterwards, I decided to switch it up.  I’d go that night.  I thought I might see some new faces at a time/day I don’t usually go.

It was the right choice…

 

I go into the dark room.  My usual chair is free.  I sit and unzip.  There are three men all sitting along the long wall—where they can see both screens.  All have their dicks out.  The one closest to the gay screen is an older Latino.  Next is a man half his age.  He is Latino, as well.  The third man reminds me of my cubby friend Franklin from Toronto.  All are checking out both screens of porn.

I stroke along with them.  The younger Latino makes a move to touch the older Latin man.  He begins jerking his cock for him.  This excites the Franklin look-a-like.  He strokes harder and looks right at me.

I nod.

He nods.

I don’t know if he wants my mouth or my cock.  I get up and stand in front of him, my cock swinging, giving him a chance to show me.  He strokes faster, making no move to lean forward and suck me.  I go to my knees and swallow his six-incher.  He groans.  The young Latino changes seats to sit right next to us.  Maybe he’s squeezing the guy’s nipples, I’m too busy sucking cock to tell.  The suckee groans again.  “I’m gonna cum,” he moans.  I pick up the pace.  “I’m gonna shoot…” Is he warning me?  Does he expect me to pull off?  “I’m gonna…fuck!!”

He begins shooting his 30-something load of cum into my mouth.  Blast after blast.  I let him marinate a moment before my tongue starts to clean him up.  He lets me get every drop, squirming in the seat.

Someone new had entered the room mid-blowjob.  When I go back to my seat, I see the Minute Man—the guy who shoots the moment I take his stubby dick in my mouth.  Perfect.  He takes a huge hit of poppers as I walk past my seat and kneel in front of him.

“Here it comes,” he whispers. 

And it’s a huge load.  I swallow and clean.  He pants.

Both men who’ve shot leave.  As does the older Latino.  A pity—I wanted to make him number three.  I sit down.  I have a slight case of jizz joy.  My cock is rock hard.  I want the young Latino to suck me, but I think he’s not happy with me that I got the loads he likely wanted.

We both stroke.  Far apart.

Two men arrive.  A 20-something Black man, long and lean, sits near me.  A white guy with a football player’s build sits on the long wall, near the young Latino.  Both grope their crotches.

The young Latino makes the move on the young Black man.  He gets him to open his pants.  He does. A long, thin and very hard cock emerges.  The Latino sucks it noisily.  Showing off.  Occasionally glancing at me to see if I’m envious.

Soon, the Latino pulls the guy’s pants down to his ankles.  Underwear follows.  The Latino begins to lick the guy’s balls while he strokes the long dick with his right hand.  The young man being serviced scoots down in his seat.  The Latino takes it as an invitation to eat his ass.  And he does.  Noisily.  This makes the bigger white guy take out his dick.  I stroke my cock harder.

Then the Latino makes a mistake.  He has gotten his dick out and tries to push into the ass he’s just been eating.  “Don’t!  No fucking!” the guy being serviced hisses.

This makes the Latino stop altogether.  He goes around the corner and sits by himself.  The four of us all stroke to the porn—and the possibility of what might happen next.

Five minutes go by.  Seven.

“Daddy,” the young Black guy whispers, “suck my cock?” 

I’m in shock, but I go to my knees.  His pants are still around his ankles.  I kneel and take him into my mouth.  He’s long but thin.  I can take him easily down my throat.  He moans.  Something he didn’t do with the Latino.

I glance up.  The Latino is looking daggers at me.  I ignore him and keep pleasuring the young man.  I move to his balls.  He hunkers down for me, too.  My tongue touches his tight hole.  He groans.  And squirms.  And hisses out a “Yessssss…”

I pause to get his pants truly off him.   Now his legs can go up in the air with ease.  I begin tongue fucking him.  Hard and fast.  He beats his dick in time with my rimming.  I grease up a finger and slide that into him, too.

The Latino gets up and begins to suck the cock of the fourth guy.  It’s a good thing he’s busy, for in the next moment my young man whispers “Will daddy fuck me?”

He wants to do it just like that, on his back with his legs in the air.  My long legs makes that impossible without doing deep knee bends.  I tell him to kneel on the chair.  He does, telling me to go slow. (The blow job actually pauses for a moment so they can both watch me enter that ebony ass.)  I grease up.  I push.  The tongue-opened hole snaps shut.  I add more lube.  Drizzle some spit and try again.  The young man pants.  He does a hit of poppers and my fat helmet head disappears into him.  His arms wave for me to pause.  I do.  I stay in place, though every nerve ending of my dick wants me to sink all the way into him.

“Take it out.  Please…”

I do.  I eat his hole once more.  It’s better with him on all fours.  (The blow job across the room resumes.)  I tongue fuck him as he takes poppers.  I do another round of fingering.

“Can I try again?”

He nods.  I grease up.  I push.  His hole gives…and he squeals “Too big!” 

I step back and he gets up.  He grabs his clothes and runs to the restroom.  I look at the chair seat.  He’s shot his load…

I sit.

The guy with the football player build gives the young Latino his cum.  He leaves.

The young Latino ignores me and pulls out his phone.

Time passes.

I stroke.  Is this it?

The door opens.  A good looking, very dark-skinned Black man comes in.  Likely mid- 30’s.  He sits next to me.  The Latino leaves in a huff.

The guy tells me he’s never been here before.  “Do guys actually have sex here?”

“Yes.”

“Sucking or fucking or both?”

“Depends.”

The questions go on.  It arouses him enough to knead his crotch.

“You sure have a great dick, man.  Stand up and show me that thing.”

I do.  Stroking obscenely for his pleasure.

“If I ever want to get fucked, I’d like a dick like that one.”

I nod and make to sit down.

“Don’t do that.  I can see you need to get off.  Cum for me.”

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t, but nearly fucking that young man has really got me going.

He leans closer.  Is he going to take me in his mouth?  No, he just keeps kneading his crotch.  “Damn…” he sighs.

I decide to go for it.  I close my eyes and think of my cock pushing into the young guy’s asshole.  I see my head pop into him…

And I explode.  I cover the floor with cum.  The guy has to pull his feet out of the way.

I clean up.

He follows me to the parking lot.  He wants me to come home with him and fuck. I  sigh. “That needed to be said before I shot…”

He looks at me blankly as I get in my car…