The Man on the Bicycle

On the shore of Lake Ontario—August, 2013

 

The cruise park where I have always hung out whenever I visit the Niagara wine country, was anything but crowded the week I was there.  I saw one naked sunbather.  We talked, with him spread eagled before me on an old Army blanket, as he told me how he attracted women and then got them into the woods.  (For the record, he was 65+, with a large belly.)  The other visitors to the recreation area were a few families, young straight couples, and lots of dog walkers.  I think I saw one other guy cruising, but he had no interest in me.

And there was the guy on the bicycle.

I was sitting in my car, reading, for it had rained the night before and the grass was wet.  He glanced at me as he passed in front of me and made a wide U-turn to park right next to me. 

“Hello,” he gushed.  “You’re back.”

I nodded.  He looked vaguely familiar.  I’m sure I must have done something with him sometime.

“The park has changed,” he told me.  “There are so few people here nowadays.”

“Is it police?  Rangers?”

“No,” he said shook his head. “There’s no money for them to be out here.”  He looked out at the lake.  “Guys just don’t seem to come out here anymore.  Or at least guys who want to play with me.”

I looked at him again.  I guessed he was anywhere from 60 to 70.  His clothes were expensive—tan slacks and a pin striped shirt.  The shoes were a top of the line exercise shoe.  His thinning hair was occasionally caught in the breeze off the lake.  All in all, he reminded me a literature teacher I had in school except there was no bowtie.  I looked down at the fingers gripping the handlebars.  There was a gold band on his left hand that seemed to dwarf his ring finger. 

James remembered everything about my visit in 2011.  We’d played in the woods on two different days.  Once, he reminded me, we had sucked each other off.  Another time I had refused to let him bother with my cock while I’d taken his cum.  I remembered him not from the sex, but from his conversational style and good humor—and his need to have some gay man actually listen to him.  The park seemed to be the only connection he had with anyone queer.  And now even that limited exposure was drying up.

“So do you want me to suck you?”  It sounded so blunt after all the other chat.  It did stop James as he was beginning a new topic.

“I can’t today.  I’m late for dinner now.  Meatloaf.  How about tomorrow?  About 5:00?”

I agreed.  James pedaled off with a quick wave—and headed home down the rutted road to his wife’s meatloaf.

But he didn’t show up the next day.  And neither did anyone else.

The day after that,  he was parked again by my car.  “I’m so sorry.  Yesterday I had some sort of stomach flu.  Or food poisoning.  But I’m fine now.”

I refrained from asking if it was the meatloaf.

He pointed to the wooded area where most men played.  He was eager.  He was also in easy access exercise clothes.  We pushed our way through the undergrowth until we were lost from view—not that there was anyone there to view us.

 

“You are so handsome.”

I thank James, though I don’t particularly believe him. 

He has pulled his maroon running shorts down and is stroking his distended cock.  I unbuckle my belt as he feels my mound of dick through my jeans.  I push the pants down right along with the underwear so my hard cock juts out.  His fist wraps around it.  He gives it two or three strokes with his soft hands.  Then he bends at the waist and takes a third of it into his mouth.

He is all tongue action.  It feels good but I want to go deeper into his mouth.  I thrust once and he gags.  I pull out and sink to my knees.  I take him to the root on the first swallow.  He gives a grunt of satisfaction.  His soft hands trace patterns on my ears.  He tells me how good it feels.  How long it’s been since anyone did this to him.

He doesn’t blow instantly, like I thought he might.  But it doesn’t take too much to make him cum.  He shoots down my throat.  I swallow his thick load.  He pulls out the ubiquitous fast food napkin from a shirt pocket and mops up the little I don’t clean off his cock.

And we talk.  Well, he does mostly.  About what he’d like to do with me in a bed.  We both know it won’t happen—he has a wife at home and I have a sleeping bag on an air mattress.  He talks about watching his teenaged students in class.  (I was right—he is a teacher.)  How free they seem to him.  How he has a kid, openly gay at 15, in one of his classes.  James says he can’t imagine being that open.  Ever.  Much less that young. 

He finds his bicycle.   He wants my Squirt screen name—a service I rarely use—but it’s big, he tells me, in Canada.  I give it to him.

With a last wave, James pedals out of the park.

I stay in the woods a moment more.  I could have so easily gone down his path 35 years ago.   I was trained to teach; expected to have a wife.  I smirk at myself, realizing I even have the bowties. 

But I took a different path.  Something, at this very moment, I’m glad I did.

I step out of the woods and into the first sunshine in the last three days.

Daddy in the Sling

Fort Erie, ON—August, 2013

 

My trip to Canada took me into the Niagara wine country after my night at Steamworks.  I pitched my tent, napped, caught up on some reading, and let the night of debauchery be enough sex for a couple of days.  By mid-week I was horned and in need.  The local cruisy park had yielded no fun at all. I packed a lunch and went to spend the day at an older gay sauna which had a terrific sun deck on top of the building.  By the time I arrived there, it was wet and rainy for the rest of the day. 

There have been a number of improvements to the old building since a major chain had purchased it.  The steam room was cleaner.  I had forgotten they’d added a dry sauna.  The rooms in general were neater now.  Windows, which had been in many of the small rooms, were covered over.  There were two porn lounges and a regular lounge.  But best of all, a sling and slurp ramp had been added in what had once been a storage area.  The issue was that very few men from upstate New York came to the sauna anymore.  There was a time when men crossed the bridge to Canada in droves to get off away from home.  Now, they found it harder to do so with the new border restrictions.  I was the only one there as I checked in.  I set rules for myself.  I would watch a little porn, read my book and do a blog entry.  I could still have a good time if no one showed up.  But the book remained untouched and only half an entry got written…

 

I am in the steam room, sitting on the well-worn wooden bench, when I hear the door to the shower area bang shut.  I listen for him to come in the steam room door, but the man spends a long time showering.  I pull the rope hanging from the ceiling.  Steam billows out from below the bench.  I become invisible in the steam, and revel in the heat it is producing.  Eventually the new customer pushes through the door and into the clouds of steam.

He almost sits on me, thanks to all the steam.  He apologizes.  He sits very close.  Even then, I can’t really see him.  It’s not until he stands up and pushes a thick, uncut cock into my face I can see him at all.  He’s older than I, with grey hair in a military cut.  His body once was defined and hard, though it’s softening now.  He grabs my ears, tells me to “Suck it, boy” and pumps a load into my mouth within the first 6 strokes.  He leaves for the showers.  He spends a long time washing my saliva off his cock.

I let him leave before I shower.  I dry off and watch a little porn.  It’s a bare video, which surprises me.  No one else has arrived.  I get out the lap top, sit in the ‘real’ lounge by the entrance door and begin to type.  The door buzzes.  A married dad comes in.  Well, a married dad with his kids just out of college.  He’s shorter than me by a head.  He looks very preppy in khaki’s and a wet windbreaker.  He is clean shaven, with dark hair turning the classic grey at the temples.  He heads for the locker area.  I take the computer back to my room and head back to the steam room.

He’s there by the time I get back downstairs.  He wastes no time going down on me.  He’s good.  He can’t get over my size.  But he knows how to work a big dick.  I return the favor on his much more average sized cock.

We break, sitting and talking as the steam disperses.

“Do you actually fuck guys with that?” he asks.

“All the time.”

“I’d love to try it, but I don’t think….”

“You know there’s a sling.  It would help you relax, by letting you just float there.”

“I’ve never done that.  But I love getting fucked by regular sized guys.”

“Come on….” I get up and head out to the showers, as if it’s all decided, that he’ll follow me to get fucked.  And he does.

We walk into the sling room.  A stolen road sign sits in the corner:  Raised Manholes.

I get him into the sling.  He likes how his suspended legs feel.  When I start eating his ass, he starts babbling a string of sex talk.  I finally stand up and fuck his face to shut him up. 

I lick his ass a little more.  I unroll a Magnum, at his request, and work my covered cock into his ass.  “Oh, fuck that hurts.”  I hold still.  “Slowly.”  I begin to withdraw.  “Oh, man.  Just take that God damned rubber off.”  I do.  I enter him.  Easily.  Smoothly.  And it feels great for both of us.  “Damn.  I did it.  I took that big cock of yours.”  I am really pumping into him now.  He starts talking nasty again.

But it’s not me who shuts him up.  Other guys have arrived for the noon hour.  The first one in is a guy who I guess is just touching 40.  He’s fit, blond and judging from a sizable, curved erection, he likes what he sees in the sling room.  He pushes past me and sticks his dick in the Dad’s mouth.  At almost the same moment, I feel a hand reach under me and feel up my balls.  Then the unknown man feels the base of my cock.  “You’re fucking him raw,” he whispers in my ear.  I turn enough to see a much younger guy.  Maybe late 20’s.  Maybe from somewhere in the Mediterranean from the look of his olive skin and shiny black hair.  I nod.  He presses his very hairy chest against my back.  His fingers are on my nipples.  I can feel his hardening cock in my ass crack. 

“You want to fuck him?” I ask.

He nods.  The Dad grunts a yes around the curved dick, and the Greek enters him.  The Curve turns to me.  We kiss.  And we can’t stop.  Our tongues battle.  I feel a hand on my ass again.  It’s the Greek.  He pulls out of Dad. 

“Who wants him next?”

I look to the Curve.  I think he really wants to, but says “no.”   I slip back up Dad.  The Greek brings his cock to Dad’s mouth.  The Curve moves behind me.  I wait for his hand on my ass—but I get his tongue.  It’s awkward, as I’m thrusting, but I let him lick me as best he can.   Finally, I lean forward— onto the Dad— and let the Curve’s tongue invade my ass.  At the same time, the Greek pulls out of Dad’s mouth the thrust’s his thick uncut dick in my mouth. 

It’s too much attention for the Dad, he starts thrusting his cock against my abs.  He groans and shoots, underneath me, coating my stomach.  I reluctantly stand up and pull out.  The Greek grabs his cock, jerks it furiously and shoot across the Dad’s chest.

The Curve stands up and kisses me again.  Now he tastes like my ass.  I turn around and hold onto him.  Tight.  We kiss—all the while the spent men head for the showers.

“I really need to taste your ass,” I tell the Curve.  He nods.  “Get in the sling.”

He does.  I kneel and lick down his crack.  I find his pucker and push in.  He groans.  And tells me to eat him out.  I lick and drill.  I stand up and lean across him to kiss him.  He sucks my tongue hungrily.  I go back to his hole.

He can’t stay still.  He bucks against my face.  “Please,” he pants.  “Let me eat you.” 

I get back in the sling. 

He eats my ass for what seems like hours. 

He stands up, leans across me and kisses me.   As our tongues connect, I can feel his cum gush over my cock and down my crack.

“Clean that up,” I tell him.

“YES, SIR.” 

He does.

“Now kiss me…” 

He does that, too.

****

I play with a few other new arrivals in the next hour.

I take a break and lie on my bed, leaving the door to the room open.

The Curve is suddenly there.

“Get on the bed,” I tell him.  “No, not on your back—on all fours.” 

He does.

I kneel, pull his hairy cheeks apart and bury my entire face in his ass...

************
Addenda  10/23/13

Out of the blue, a man wrote me on BBRT from Toronto, saying I looked familiar.  It was the former clerk of the sauna who I fucked and bred last year.  He told me that the chain who bought it and remodeled it have closed it.  There was not enough traffic.  It will be missed...

A Night at Steamworks

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Fluid Pig and the Cum Harvest

My Playroom—August, 2013

As August wound down, my house went back to being all mine.  My playroom was back up within 24 hours of waving farewell to the last of the departing guests.  I pieced the padded floor to go under the equipment, with the plastic underneath it.  The fuck bench was erected, the sling assembled and the rimseat was in place, awaiting the first hot ass I could snare.

I was lucky enough to snare the Fluid Pig.  He is back in my area.  I wrote about him here.  We talked for a good five days before he arrived.  He was staying in Ann Arbor the night before.  We texted after his play session that night.  He: “7 loads today and managed not to cum, oink!  My balls are going to explode when you shove your big cock in my hole tomorrow.  I hope I can concentrate at work.”  I wrote back:  “I know you like multiple guys.  I can’t get many good tops out here, but I promise you more loads than your seven of today.”  He wanted to know more.  I refused to tell him…

 He looks great.  He is over six feet.  He has trimmed some of his fur, but it looks good enough for my tongue to get lost in.  And that ass…The Pig doesn’t wait for an invite or instruction.  He just gets on the fuckbench.  His ass is big and full.  His jock is black, with a couple of white stripes on the pouch.  I sink to my knees and stick my tongue up that hole that took so much cock the day before.  He groans.  He reaches back and spreads his ass for me.  I snap a pic. 

I lick.  My tongue goes deep.  But I don’t spend as long as usual.  I need to get my cock into him.  He huffs poppers the moment I stand up.  He tells me to fuck him hard.  I enter in one continuous thrust.  I fuck hard, the sound of my hips on his butt filling the room.

“Let me taste your hole, now.”

I drop to my knees again, hitting the padded floor.  (Nice!)  He is a great self luber.  I lick some out and swallow.

“Now,” I tell him, “I have some cum for you.”

I open the cooler.  I have a card filled with filled condoms.  They are knotted shut and taped to it with a few notes below each one.

“From the moment I knew you were coming, I went to the bookstore on two different occasions.” 

The Pig looks over his shoulder at the card.  “Damn…”

I pull the red condom off the card.  I rip open the knot and hold it against his ass. 

He shivers at the frozen nugget on his hole.  “You wanted extra men.  I sucked some guys off at the bookstore.  This guy was a plump red head.  He shot almost the moment he put it in my mouth.”  I turn the condom inside out and push the cum nugget up his ass, knuckle deep.  My dripping cock pushes it the rest of the way home.  It is melting fast, and is coating his ass canal.  It feels amazing, slightly cool at first, then heating up with the friction of the fuck.

“Let’s do the sling.”  We change over.  I need to piss.  I hose down his ass crack.  He grunts and huffs.  I lick him clean.  Then I pull out the card again.

“This black condom is the cum of a guy I can’t even picture anymore.  I just noted that his cock was thick.”  I repeat the process, shoving it deep into his gut.  I fuck this new load into him.  My cock is coated with cum when I pull out.  I wipe it off and finger it back into his hole.  I fuck it into place.  When I pull out, I start pissing on his jock pouch.  It pools onto his stomach.  I smear it over his chest.  I lick down his dripping ass crack.  I felch some of the two loads in him.  I kiss him, snowballing some cum.

“Fuck, I’ve never had a snowball from my ass.” 

I’m back into the cooler.  I pull out the card.  I open the orange condom.

“This is three loads from my second trip to the bookstore.  They are all older dads.  All men you wouldn’t look at twice if you met them.  Guys you would never let breed you—but that’s what they are going to do.”  I push the loads into him.  He is moaning, and calling me names.  And so turned on that his hard cock is poking out of his jock.  I fuck the three dads into his gut.

The next condom is really full.

“It’s only from two guys.  One was an annoying fucker who was thrilled I’d suck him off.  The big load in there is from this straight guy who came to the bookstore directly from his coaching job, still in his gear.  He smelled of sweat in the best way.  He made me stop anytime anyone was around.  I finally got him off—he shot this huge load.”  I work it in with finger and dick.

“There are your seven loads—just like you had last night.”

“So hot.  You can put anything up my hole.”

“Good.”  I rip the final condom off the card.  “This is one I just picked up off the floor there.  Nice and full for you.”

“Shit…”

I fuck it home before he can say anything else.  His hole is just dripping jizz.  I fuck and fuck, churning the cum, making it froth.

“Get up.  Rimseat time.”

I get under it.  I steal a hit of poppers from him.  Then he sits, his ass filling the seat.  I lick at the salty froth I’ve made.  I swallow and probe deeper.  He opens.  The cum begins to drip into mouth.  It’s been there once before. And now it is again, straight from his ass.  I lick and slurp.  I stop jerking my own dick for fear of wasting my load.  I tap his thighs.  “Up.”

He gets back on the bench and I enter him.  He knows I’m close.  He reaches down under himself and strokes his cock, hoping to relieve those blue balls of his.  I fuck.  I shoot.  In three or four strokes, so does he. 

“I’m load nine,” I grunt.  I pull out, scoop up some of his load off the floor and push it in. “And yours is load ten…

Futon Fuck

Kalamazoo—August, 2013

My busy summer was winding down.  I was actually able to spend some time on bbrt.  It rarely works out—that someone wants to fuck when you are in that It-has-to-be-now-or-not-for-another-week” mode.  But it did.  A hot younger man, who had talked to me at the top of the summer, was looking.  And as a bonus, he had a bottom friend over.  “Do you do threeways?”  he asked.

I typed back that he could twist my arm. “I’ll be happy to fuck more than one hole,” I pecked out.

He sent me the address, with the added postscript:  “You know him.”

Oh.

Really?

I got in the car and headed out.

His apartment was the top floor of a converted Victorian home.  The remains of beautiful woodwork were everywhere—now all painted a dull off-white for the college rental crowd. 

And he had no bed.  A futon mattress, with no frame, was spread out on the ragged carpeting of the living room.

But I didn’t care.  Damian was hot.  Caucasian, mid to late 30’s, and with great arms and chest.  His head was shaved, and he had several tattoos—beautiful ones that showed the tattooist was a true artist.  He was in nothing but a pair of designer underwear.  Porn blared from the television and a laptop.  He and his friend were both working their phones and, it seemed, occasionally sucking on each other’s cock.

“And you know Andre…”

There sat a man I hadn’t seen in years.  Andre and I played off and on for a couple of years—until a last odd session.  We would likely have played again after that, but he got a boyfriend soon after.  He was one of the first men I found in my area who was a piss pig.  He loved to be covered and suck my cock.  I liked to drink his piss and suck him.  We had great fun.  Until that odd session, that is.  We’d met at a cheap motel.  I’d taken the sling at his request.  He wanted to try my cock up his ass.  In the cramped motel, the sling had to go by the window.  And it was a fucking FREEZING February.   Cold air blew across him from the ill-fitting window.  Then, my cock was really too big for his untrained hole.  So we went back to the oral thing.  But I pushed too deep into his throat and sent him racing to the bathroom, retching all the way.  We hadn’t played since…

And now here he was—sitting in the middle of the makeshift bed— his beautiful brown skin contrasting with the white sheet thrown over it.  Andre smiled.  He is about the same age as my host.  He’s decently put together, and almost as tall as I am.  He has very brief briefs on, as well…

 

I say hello.  And strip.  I have nothing on but my athletic socks and a cockring in no time.  I sit on the bed.  Damian gets up from the one chair in the room and goes right for my cock.  Andre watches from the farthest corner of the mattress, then moves to the chair with his phone.  I let Damian get me hard.  He spends a lot of time suckling my balls which I love.  I stretch down and slip my hand under the flimsy material covering his ass.  I idly pay with his hole as he deep throats me.  I motion for Andre to join us.

“I just want to watch right now.” 

I shrug and sink back onto an uncomfortable pillow and let Damian get me wetter and wetter. 

“Sit on my face.”  I push down so there is room for him to straddle my head.  He stands up and pulls off his underwear.  His butt had looked hot in the pictures on his profile.  It’s even better in person.  He straddles me and lowers that full and lightly hairy ass to my face.  He settles in and sighs as my tongue invades him.  He bends forward to suck me, pulling his ass off my face.  “Just sit.  Don’t worry about me.”  He straightens back up and pulls his cheeks apart so I can rim him deeper.

I feel a tongue on the head of my cock.  Andre has gotten up and is sucking me down.  Oh, yeah.  This is what heaven should be—my cock in a hot mouth and a full, round butt on my face.  Damian grinds himself down on my tongue.  He’s more than ready for my cock. 

He gets up and gets on all fours.  I kneel behind him.  Damn.  He’s tight.  I work the head in.  He grunts and tells me to go slowly.  I slow.  Andre sits next to us stroking.  I let spit trickle from my mouth onto my shaft.  I ease into him.  It takes forever, but I get balls deep up his hole.  I hold in place.  I feel his hole relax.  Just.  I begin a slow fuck.  Before I can work up any speed, he asks me for a break.

We break. 

I suck on Andre.  He sucks me. 

I work myself back up Damian.  “It’s a great cock, I just can’t take it for long.”  I hate how cramped we are on the mattress.  I feel like I’m pushing in from a less than ideal angle.

We break again.  Damian convinces Andre to try taking it.  Andre takes it—barely.  We stop.  It’s not a good fuck.

We try oral in a circle. 

Andre leaves us to it, to get back online.

I suck Damian’s cock but soon slip farther back to eat his now fucked and open hole.

“Get up.”  I stand.  Damian looks up at me from the mattress.  “Come on.”

He gets up.

“Now bend over.”  I tap the arm of the chair where Andre is tapping out messages.  He bends over.  It’s such a gorgeous ass.  I spend a long time eating it out.  Again.  I spit on my cock.  I stand behind him.  In this new position, I slide right up him.

“Oh my God,” grunts out Damian.  “I am so full.”

I have great leverage to give him the fuck he wanted.  I piston into him.  After all the foreplay, I’m ready to breed.  Andre has stopped typing.  His eyes are riveted to us.  Damian is working his small cock.  I am slamming my big one up his butt.  The only sound now is the slap of skin on skin.

“You want it?”

“Please.”

“Yeah?”

“Give me your cum.”

“Breed him,” chimes in Andre.

“Here,” I grunt.  “Take it.  NOW.”

I shake and contort.  My head snaps back.  I feel like I shoot and shoot.  I pull out ever so slowly.  My cum spills down his hole.  Damian reaches back, catches some on his fingers.  It goes to his mouth. 

I pull him up into a wet kiss…

Ass Up in All the Clutter

An even smaller town than mine—August, 2013

 

“I’ll have Josh waiting for you,” Cam typed.  “Hole opened and ready.”

We had played together before—I reported it here, where Cam gave me a little feast of felching pleasure.

Tonight, though, would not be in my playroom, Cam—the local married man who loves young men—had the house to himself.  This was a good thing, for my playroom was still down for the summer.  I liked Josh.  He was a bottom who needed none of my special skills—just a solid fucking.  He wasn’t afraid of ass to mouth, which was good, for when Cam and I shared hole, it was a given.

I found Cam’s house easily in the small town a few miles from my own.  Cam’s profile says he is a year or so younger than me, but I’m pretty sure he is a year or two older.  He’s is maybe 5’ 10” and decently put together, while going a little soft now.  But his average sized cock is always hard and ready.  He let me in, totally naked and throbbing.  They hadn’t wasted time waiting for me.  I stripped in the living room of the small house, while Cam went around the corner to the extra bedroom.  Once naked but for my lucky metal cockring, I entered the bedroom myself.

It was dark.  I couldn’t see a thing for the first 30 seconds.  But I could hear:  Josh’s loud exhale every time Cam’s dick hit home, the squeak of the old bed, the fleshy sound of hips smacking full ass…

 

I am instantly erect listening to Josh getting fucked.  I stroke a little and let my eyes get accustomed to what little light filters in from the bathroom across the hall.  I can soon make out Cam kneeling on the mattress, with Josh before him on all fours.  I step up on the double bed and move around until my cock is in front of Josh’s face.  I sit, my long legs sprawled wide.  I scoot forward to connect with his open mouth and not make him pull away from Cam’s fucking.

Josh takes me into his mouth.  We don’t bother with any kind of greeting—he just wants to get my dick wet and ready for his hole.

“Suck him, boy.  You wanted two dicks again,” I hear Cam mutter from above us.  His fucking is pushing Josh’s mouth down on to me.  It’s hot.  And I like the idea he has no real say in how fast I go down his throat.  “You ready for his ass?”

I grunt assent and work my way over the ancient bedspread, back to the foot of the bed.  I kneel on the floor.  Josh’s used ass is right at eye level.  I’d like to clean Cam’s cock, but he’s climbed up to the head of the bed and stuck it in Josh’s mouth.  I settle for licking the used fuck hole.  He’s incredibly wet.  My tongue sinks in.  I flick it up and then go as deep as I can.  I swallow.  There is pre-cum and copious amounts of natural ass lube.  My own cock spits a glob of precum.  I smear it around my big, flared head with my hand.  Then wipe the remains on his hole.  I stand.  I try to inch it in.  But he’s so open, I’m swallowed to the root instantly by his ass.  I hold for a moment, then it’s my turn to fuck him hard enough that I force his head down on Cam’s dick.

With the light behind me, I can see more of the room we are in.  The bed fills almost all of the space.  There is a tiny aisle between the wall and the bed on left side to walk.  There are shelves above the head of the bed and to my right.  They seem to be the repository for everything that no longer is needed to decorate the other rooms of the house or just things his wife can’t bear to throw out.  Lots of shell animals from trips to Florida, pennants, the program from Les Miserables.  Art prints, more shells and a crocheted item I can’t quite figure out are to my right.  Incongruously, a huge container of lube is sitting amongst the tchotchkes. 

I close my eyes to it all and fuck him hard.  When I want a breather, Cam and I switch again.  Then, I’m back up his ass.  It’s hotter and wetter.  Finally, for the first time of the night, Josh speaks:  “My knees need a break.”

We all have some water.  Cam and Josh share a rum and coke.

I am sprawled on the bed.  My cock is still rock hard.  Josh takes another sip and then straddles me.  He is facing me.  I can just see the look of pain/pleasure on his face as he lowers himself down on my rigid tool.  I close my eyes and concentrate on how his hole is squeezing my cock.   He gets his knees under himself and bounces with abandon.  Cam gets between my spread legs.  He is nuzzling my balls.  When we first met, I would do things like that to him and he’d blow instantly, for even with all his group play, no one had ever done that to him.  I’m in no danger of shooting, but I love the feel of the rough tonguing I am receiving on my full balls as my shaft is caressed by hot ass.

Eventually I signal for Josh to get up.  I roll out from under as he stands on the bed.  Cam takes my place.  Josh sits on his cock.  It’s my turn to lick some balls.  My tongue goes up the shaft as far as I can.  I can’t make him cum like that anymore.  Cam is too used to how I like to play.

“Wanna DP him?” asks Cam.

I don’t answer.  I just push Josh forward, so he and Cam are chest to chest.  Cam is still up him.  I put my cock head against his shaft.  I push forward.  My cock head enters him.  Josh gasps. I hold for a moment.  I inch forward.  Cam flops out.

“Let me be anchor.”  I flop to the bed.  Josh scrambles onto my dick.  I pull him down so we are chest to chest.  I can feel Cam’s cock head press against his hole.  He pushes.  Then again.  Then he’s in.  It doesn’t last long, but it’s great to feel his cock sliding along the underside of my dick.  Cam pushes Josh just a little too far forward.    We both flop out.

We have another water break.

“I need to get off and get out of here,” I tell them.

Josh knows how I like it.  He goes back to all fours, right on the foot of the bed, so I can stand and pound into him. 

“You want my load?”

“Yeah, give it him,” says Cam before Josh can answer. 

“Please,” grunts Josh.

I bend and lick his overused hole.  My cock drools.  I push it in.  I concentrate on the feelings welling up in my balls.  I shoot.  And again.  I buck and thrash and end up on Josh’s back.  I stay in him, marinating in his spermed hole.

I flop down on the bed.  I am barely conscious of Cam entering him.  “Damn, I don’t usually get to fuck in your load.”  He’s right, Cam almost always cums first.  “It feels so good.  It is so…”  He never finishes the sentence.  He breeds Josh with a loud grunt, flattening Josh to the bed.  I slide off the foot bed and get between the two sets of legs.   Josh’s hole has been truly churned with our cum.  It’s frothy and beautiful.

My tongue inches forward…

New

North of Home—August, 2013

 I have a fuck bud who never tires of pointing out all the places he’s had sex.  If we are riding together in his home town, he will inevitably start pointing to various motels, apartment buildings, alleys, warehouses, and parks with no more than the sentence:  “And I’ve had sex there.”

Well, there are two motels built fairly recently on I-94 that every time I pass them, I have always thought “Why have I NOT had sex there?”  This August provided me with checking the first of them off my imaginary to do list.

He’s a bear of a man.  He’s tall and just older than I.  His pics reveal a barrel of a chest, with copious amounts of fur.  He has thick tree trunks of legs and, in the last picture, a beautifully defined ass.

“Fuck me?”  he writes.  “Love that cock pic.”

We chat.  He’s at the one of those expensive new motels on business.  He’s from somewhere out West.  Having been burned before, I ask if he has clean out supplies with him.  His answer is no, he’s brought nothing with him.  And he really doesn’t want to go get anything.  So fucking is off the table.

But we are both horny.  We both have a big oral side.  We agree on an all oral session an hour from now.

 

I nod to the night clerk.  I walk in like I know just where I am going.  Larry’s told me where the elevators are located.  Without looking lost or confused, I stride right to them, punch the button and go through the double doors before the clerk can question me.  I get out on the third floor.  I find the room easily.  I knock.  It swings open.

“Nice,” he tells me appreciatively as I step in. 

He looks just like his pictures, which is good for me.  He’s dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers.  He leads me to the foot of the bed.  He is instantly down on his knees, undoing the buttons of my 501’s.  He pulls them down, just past my knees.  His mouth is all over my grey boxer briefs.  His spit changes their color from light grey to a wet, dark grey.  My cock is beginning to stand up.  Finally, he pulls them down.  My cock all but slaps him in the face.  He rears back, spits into his hand and, just taking the tip of my cock into his mouth, he begins jerking the shaft.  His tongue is invading my piss slit.  Then it’s all over my flared head, swabbing it with the precum he’s licked up.

I hold his head still, knocking his hand off my cock.  I begin a slow face fuck.  He groans.  I have hit on something really good, it seems. I see his cock, sticking out of the boxer’s fly, drool.  I push a little deeper with each slow stroke.  I never quite get it all the way down his throat.

We stop to let me get naked.  He undoes my boots.  I shuck off the jeans and the underwear.  He takes my socks off lovingly, but stops short of working over my toes.

I pull him up.  I pull the shorts off and take his cock in my mouth.  He’s thick, but not long.  I take him to the root repeated.  He pulls me off, begging a short fuse.

“Fuck my face.”  He flops down onto the bed, on his back with his head hanging over the edge of the bed.  I straddle his head and push in.  This is good.  I’m in total control.  And he can take me much deeper.  His gag reflex seems to turn off in this position.  I fuck his face.  Deep.

We break.  He takes a piss but I don’t ask if he’d like to feed me—I’d ruin the dynamic.

We sixty-nine.  Something I haven’t done in year.

Then I’m back to fucking his face.

He is really moaning now.  His hand is all over his own cock and balls.  I thrust again and he shoots into the hair on his chest.  I pull out as I lean forward and lick some of it up.  That’s enough to make me will myself to blast my own cum across his chest, to mix with all that he’s shot.

****

We are lying side by side, talking about this and that. 

Then a silence.

“I’m new to all this,” he says aloud to the room, not really looking at me.

“Oh?”

“I didn’t have gay sex until I was 48.  I’m just 57 now.”

“Did you want to have sex with men when you were in high school?”

“I thought about it.  But I didn’t know how to start.  Now I can’t get fucked enough.”

“So did you mess around back then at all?”

“Nope.  I got my date pregnant after the senior prom when I was 17.  We married for the kid.”

“That took care of that….”

“Right.  But he knows now, my boy.  He’s very supportive.”

“That’s good.”

A pause.

“The next time I come up here I’d love to have you fuck me.  I didn’t bring my hose ‘cuz I usually share a room with another guy.”  I nod.  “When we come back, I’ll make sure we book separate rooms again.”

I smile.

This was going to likely be a forgettable encounter—made memorable only by finally fucking in this new high end motel.  Instead, I find it hard to forget the man who was in limbo all those years—and is now bent on making up for lost time…