The Sling In the Cellar

St. Louis—February, 2017

As I mentioned in the last post, I have been going to St. Louis for many years for work.  It’s hardly surprising that I have come to know several men there.  I love the idea of a yearly seeding.  I have written about the parties Will and Bruce throw for me each year.  This year, they weren’t sure they could do that.  So Will came up with a Plan B…something a little different.

It’s Friday night.  Dark.  I park in front of the grand Victorian.  I don’t go to the front door.  Or even to the door to the kitchen I usually use.  I am looking for the cellar.  And there it is—down some steps and under the back porch.  I knock—but I don’t wait for an answer.  I go into a dim room I’ve never seen.  And there he is.  Lying in the sling, blindfold on.  I go over and finger the crack of his hot, muscular ass as I tell him I can’t wait to fuck him.

“And you’re going to get more than my dick, boy.”

Will shivers.  I strip down and get into my jock, chaps, harness and boots.  Laundry facilities are on one side of the room, where I leave my bag.  The other wall has a shelf unit where there is a bag of sex toys.  The sling is by the stairs that must lead up to the kitchen.  I am glad a space heater is fighting the February night temperatures.  I keep looking for the man who is supposed to be here and in charge of Will.  He’s nowhere in sight.  So I just get to it.

I walk over to the reclining hunk of man.  I kneel and taste his hole.  Is he loaded?  I can’t quite tell.  I dig deeper.  He’s certainly very moist.  I dig into him.  Will groans.

“You like having me eat your hole?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You loaded, boy?  You have a nice load up your butt for me to use?”

“No, Sir.  He didn’t show.  You’re the first one here,” Will admits, adding “Sir.”

I kneel again and spread his hard cheeks apart with both hands.  I get deeper into his hole.  I stand up and insert my raw cock.

“Oh, yeah…” Will mumbles to no one in particular, his head lolling to the side.

I fuck him.  Hard.  I know he can take it and likes it hard.

I spell myself with a thick black dildo from the bag.  I add a finger on top of the dildo to the stretch of his hole.

“Break time.” 

 Still blindfolded, I help get him out of the sling.  I put a leather wrist restraint on his right wrist.  One on his left.  I turn him—then clip his arms up on the sling chains, making a makeshift cross.  The flogger is next to the toy bag.  I start slow and easy.  I concentrate on that luscious ass and lower back.  I can’t do anything too high with the low ceiling of the old cellar.

The whack of the flogger fills the tiny space.

Again.

And again.

I go in and press my crotch to his red ass and my chest to his heated back.  I hold him and whisper obscenities in his ear of what I’m going to do to him.  I twist his plumped nipples.

I unclip and get him back in the sling. 

Another toy fucks him.

My dick does, too.

I begin working my fingers into him—the beginning of my whole hand.

The door opens.  A man of about my age enters.  He is balding and is rather round.  He strips down and comes over just as my hand slips in.  The man has entered so silently, Will has no idea someone else is in the room.  The new arrival watches Will’s ass snap shut on my wrist.  He jerks quietly, getting himself hard.

I work in my other hand.

Then my dick.

I pull out and gesture for the new arrival to enter him.  He steps in and thrusts his six inches into Will.

“Oh, yeah…” Will groans in pleasure as he recognizes that it’s a new dick and not me.

We go back and forth.  The new guy loves having me clean his cock of Will’s ass juice. 

But he’s having trouble staying hard.  He flogs his meat like crazy every time I fuck—and that gets him hard enough to enter Will—but he’s pretty limp as he pulls out.

I do another round of my hands.

The guy uses a toy.

I have an early morning meeting, so I decide to wrap up my time here.

“You okay if I load him?” I ask the other top.  “You like fucking in cum?”

“Fuck, yeah!”

Will shivers again from the way we are talking over him—like he was a piece of fuck meat and nothing more.

I taste Will’s hole.

I insert.

I fuck.

Will clamps down on me—as only a fisting bottom can. 

And I exploded in his ass.

I leave the stranger a nice load to play in and go back to my motel.

Rough Fuck in the Basement

Northwest Indiana—October, 2015

I desperately needed some non-oral play.  I love to suck cock—but dammit, I needed to fuck.  From out of nowhere I got a message from the sub I had met for the first time when I worked in this area last year.  We’d played twice: once when I crawled through his window to “rape” him with another top and again in his basement.  I’d lost his contact info—but he wrote me out of the blue.  No crawling through his window this year.  He wanted a more formal Dom/sub scene. A rough fuck.

“I’ve bought more toys…” he told me.  He wasn’t lying.  I got to his farmhouse, and we went down to his basement play area.  Dildos and restraints were on three different tables.  His sling hung from the rafters.  He had put a tarp under the sling.  “Piss here,” he murmured, pointing at it.  “And I don’t care about that old chair.”  Now he pointed to a once over-stuffed chair, now in tatters.  “You could piss on me there too.”

I changed into my leathers away from the set-up, over in the shadows by an ancient furnace.  As I walked back into the play area, he knelt.  He’d shed his bathrobe and was wearing nothing but very tall boots and a Neoprene jock, edged in red.  He looked good.  5’8”, still very tan, not worked out, but nicely fit.  His dark hair was buzzed short.

I stood in front of him for a long moment.  Silent.  I picked up a wrist restraint.  “Give me your left arm…”

He’s trussed to his chains hanging from the rafters.  Normally they support his sling, at this moment they are supporting him.  Leather restraints are on his wrists.  He’s not going anywhere.  And I am flogging his back and ass.  Ten strokes in, I stop and check in with him. 

“You doin’ ok, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.  You can hit me harder, Sir.”

I rub my hand down his back and along his ass crack.  “It’s not about hurting you.  Not for me.  I don’t want to mark you—just want to get the blood circulating, warming you.”  And invariably, it makes a horny man even more so.

I run the handle of the flogger down his ass crack and work his hole with it.  He moans deep in the back of his throat.  I step back.  Two strokes to his back.  Two to his ass.  Repeat.  He’s writhing now.  Especially when I hit his ass.  I concentrate on that.

Finally I stop.  His cheeks are a fiery red.  But no skin is broken.  I move behind him—pressing my front to his heated back.  He groans again as I hold him.  And I start pissing.  I’m taller, so I’m above his ass.  It cascades down over his flaming butt cheeks.  He grinds against me.  I have to really concentrate to keep the piss flow going.

I step back.  “Now arch your back.  Thrust that dripping red ass out there.”

He does.  It’s a hot, hot sight.  I get on my knees and clean off every drop of piss with my tongue.  I am rock hard.  I enter him for the first time that night.  Pretty much all of it.  One thrust.  He howls—but it’s in bliss not pain.

I fuck him hard, with all my pent up frustration. 

I fuck him until he gasps out a “Thank you…Sir…”

*****

I have fucked him in the sling.  I have pissed on his chest while I did it—arcing some up to his mouth, but mostly covering his chest before driving my cock back into him.  I have used an array of toys on him.  Big.  Small.  Oddly shaped.  Each has stretched his hole, getting it ready for my hand.

I help him out of the sling to stretch.  I also make him kneel.  He does.  “Now taste your ass on my dick.”  He swallows me down.  He only pulls off my shaft to clean my balls every bit as thoroughly.  I piss again.  Directly in his mouth.  He gurgles it down happily.  It’s coming so fast that he can’t swallow quite fast enough and piss splashes on my boots.

“Clean them,” I tell him.  He is down on all fours, tonguing my boots to a true spit shine.

“Stay there.”  I move around and get in the sling.  “Now eat my ass.”  He attacks my hole.  Truly attacks—it hurts, he’s so hungry.  I tell him to slow down and savor—not devour.  That does the trick.  He makes my ass crack sodden.  I even manage to piss—letting it spurt up in the air and then down over his face and my ass crack.  He licks me clean, thanking me endlessly…

*****

I have a big toy up his butt.  He is small framed.  I worry about getting my medium sized hand in him.  I pull out the toy and grease both hands.  Surprisingly, my right—the slightly bigger hand—worms into him the first time he hits the poppers. 

Then my left.

I can’t get much depth—but he loves the stretch of my palm and the snap of his ass closing around my wrist.

I do it again and again.  Left. Right. Left…

*****

It’s late.

“I need to get off, boy.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Where do you want me to shoot?”

“Anywhere you want, Sir.”

“In your ass?”

“Yes, sir.  Breed my piss cunt, Sir.”

“Yeah?  You like cum in your ass?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I want you to push it out later.  And eat it.”

“Yes, Sir.  Gladly, Sir.   Give it to me.”

I pull my dick out and slap the pouch of his jock with it.  I bend and taste his hole one last time.  I rise up, slip it into his gape and let go.  He squeezes down on my dick so that I think it might snap off.  He milks every drop, as I grab onto the chains and hang on…

Indeed, when I am washing up in his bathroom upstairs, I notice that the tiny blood vessel on the top of my dick has broken leaving a red mass under the skin.

A rough fuck, indeed.