Nashville--November, 2011
I spent Thanksgiving at a Waffle House. That was not a bad thing. After dinner, the hook up sites were a little slow with the holiday. A ginger haired cub though, wanted too get a chance to do some kink play he rarely gets to do in this city. I set up the sling and rimseat. He arrived exactly at the agreed on time, looked hotter than his pictures and was kissing me as soon as we were inside the door…
I pull out of the kiss. He’s perfect for what I need tonight. Furry, a few extra pounds, and he looks great in his leather harness and white, but stained jock. Combat boots complete his ensemble. I’ve pulled out the chaps, harness and boots myself. He is looking as hungrily at me as I him. We kiss again. Long. Forceful. I put a hand on his shoulder. He kneels and begins inhaling the scent from my jock. The yellow one he’d asked me to wear.
“Damn, it smells hot.”
“I don’t think I’ve worn it since the piss party.”
He’s busy nuzzling my balls. He pulls them out and licks them. My cock grows, pushing against the fabric.
“You are fuckin’ big.”
I don’t answer, just pull the jock back and stick my cock in his mouth. He moans and takes me to the root. Easily. With the perfect amount of suction and tongue. He stays down in place. Then comes up for air. He’s back down. I hold his head there for a moment--just a couple of seconds longer than he expects. He comes up gasping for air. And loves it. We repeat. And again. I kneel in front of him and kiss him, swirling my tongue through the large amount of spit and precum in his mouth. I take most of it into mine. And spit it into his open mouth. He loves that, too. Our eyes connect. We both know this is going to be a good match up.
Soon I taste his cock, collect the precum. I push him onto the bed and push it into his hole. He tastes great. I rim happily with him on all fours.
“Rim seat?”
I nod and get under it. His hole opens up and the precum and spit I’ve gotten up there rolls out. I force it back in. He huffs poppers. I eat his hole hungrily. It widens more.
“Please, Sir. May I eat your ass?”
We change places. I can’t remember when I have felt as talented a tongue on my ass. He’s all over it. The cheeks, the crack, the hole. And he goes deep. He is moaning. And telling me I taste wonderful. I sit back, reminding myself I don’t always have to be in charge--be the active participant. I let him go on and on. Telling him how good he makes me feel.
Soon, though, I rise. I pull him up. We kiss. Hungry to taste each other’s asses on our tongues. I get him into the sling. My cock slaps against his hole.
“Fuck me, Daddy.”
But I don’t, I just tease his hole with the head of my cock. I work it in. I smear precum on his hole. I push that in with my index finger not my cock. I pull it out of his ass and make him lick it. He gets harder, if that’s possible. My cock is right in line with his hole. And I piss. Just a quick spurt.
“Damn!”
I do it again. And lick it off. I hold it in my mouth, rise, pull down his chin and spit it in his mouth.
“Feed me piss.”
I do, but not how he expects. I move around to the side of the sling. He opens his mouth expectantly. I piss on his right armpit. I lean over, guzzle the sweet, salty mix off him. And spit it in his mouth. Again. And spit. I move around to the other side and coat the other pit. This is making him pre-cum like the cliched faucet. I scoop some of that up, taste it, swirl it in my mouth and spit that into his mouth, too. Finally I give him what he wants and empty the rest of my bladder down his throat. The arc of piss looks as hot as it tastes. He gasps and swallows. And only when I’ve shaken the last drop on his chest do I go around and push my cock up his hole.
“Take it, boy.”
“Yes, Sir,” he moans, “Yes, SIR!” as I hit home.
His ass is hot and clingy. I fuck slowly. Soon I’m standing still and pulling the sling to me.
“Are you gonna piss my ass, Daddy? Please, Daddy. Let me taste my hole, first.”
I slowly come to a halt, pull out and bring my cock to his face. He lovingly cleans it off. The sounds of pleasure he makes get me even harder. I slip back into his ass.
“Fuck my mancunt.”
I do. Hard and fast. I’m driving into him with fury I didn’t know I had in me. He babbles more. Telling me how good it feels, how I can do anything to him.
Eventually I slow and stop. I catch my breath. Kneel to taste what I’ve done to his hole.
And I’ve gone too deep. I send him to the shower. I recline in the sling, watching the Dick Wadd video until he returns. I start to get up, and he pushes me right back in place, and hooks my ankles into the stirrups. He kneels. His tongue snakes out. He tosses me poppers and I depart to some other planet as he rims me again. This boy is talented. I stroke. And stroke. I’m actually close to cumming. He rises up. He licks the precum off my dick and trots around to the side of the sling to kiss me. Jesus, it’s good. The mingling of tastes with the kiss is incredible.
We change places. I fuck. I know I’m going to felch this load for him. He wants it so much. His ass is feeling great. Slick, tight, ready for my cum.
“Breed me.”
I slow, stoop to rim--and disaster. His last clean out triggered more of the same.
We pause. He’s gone a long time.
He slowly comes into the room.
“I can’t keep clean. We better stop.”
We hug. He tries to just blow me. No luck. Something in the air is gone.
I hug him again--telling him how I really am about the journey not the destination. I say it convincingly.
Almost.
And I really do believe that hackneyed phrase.
But God, I wanted to whitewash that boy’s insides.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Too Big
Louisville--November, 2011
I had spent three nights with family after visitation and services, folding my tall frame into a top bunk bed with my older brother beneath me. Shades of childhood--only back then he insisted on the top bunk. Now his problematic back demanded the lower. As they all went north for Thanksgiving, I drove south to resume my job in Tennessee. I stayed in Louisville in a cheap, cheap motel. I needed some anonymous action at the bookstore. No names, no internet hassles. I found just that…
“Do you mind?” We are the only two people in the straight theatre. He is good looking enough: longer hair, nicely formed features to go with the roman nose, a t-shirt with a band I’ve never heard of on it and tight black jeans. He’s waving a cigarette, though No Smoking signs are in evidence everywhere.
I make a non-committal noise. He flicks the lighter. He’s on the other end of the back row--a good five seats away from me. He’s one of those who comments on the porn. “Look at the rack on her.” or “Now he is hung.” It’s the latter I know he wants. He takes a fourth puff. It is over powering in the closed space. I button my fly. It’s a pretty limp video anyway--way too much interview time with the girls about to do their first movie. I walk over to the gay side.
Four men. Two older gentleman are carrying on a whispered conversation in the middle of the back row. I catch something about how much his retirement plan has gone down. There is an Italian looking man, asleep in the third row. And a young man in the second row. I sit there, with a good ten seats between us. As soon as I sit, he unzips and starts to beat. He is somewhere between 26 and 30 and a cub in build. His hair is cropped close to his head. He makes my cock stand up like the talkative girls in the porn could not. I stroke openly. The couple behind me leans forward. They look like they are at a tennis match--looking at me to the left; at the boy to the right. The boy looks at me furtively. I just stare at him. He comes over, body crouched as if he was going to get in the way of the projector. It puts his head right at crotch level. He deep throats me without batting an eye. Then he kneels with my cock impaling his throat. Holy fuck. He’s great. He can take me to the root on every stroke. When I see he is getting those thick strands of spittle, I pull him off me and kiss him deeply. He’s taken aback. Then warms up to the idea. He pulls away, diving for my cock again. I guide his head down to my balls. He likes that. He washes each of them, works his tongue between the cock ring and my balls with no guidance from me. Soon he’s back on my cock. About the time I think I might actually cum, he stops and says he needs a break.
He goes back to his seat. We stroke watching a Michael Lucas video. Soon, I go over to him. It’s my turn to surprise him by taking his cock to the root. I spend some time on his cock, but soon, I’m working down to his balls. Then lower. My tongue connects with his hole. I pull his legs up, to really get at it. He strokes furiously. I’ve found his spot. His hole is sweet with soap and fresh exertion sweat. I ram my tongue into him. Repeatedly. He’s panting. I am pretty sure I can fuck him right here. I bend forward. My cock slaps his hole.
With a loud groan, he shoots. Cum is everywhere. But he doesn’t care. I smile and go back to my seat.
It’s later. Many more men have come in. All ages and types. Lot’s of truck drivers since there is huge lot for them to overnight. A pair of boyfriends who want to show off in the front row. Older men who want to watch. A few active participants.
I move back and forth between the two rooms. I end up next to an older African American. I’ve seen him on both sides. Tall, in shape, hair just going white at the temples. But he hasn’t unzipped, he just plays with himself through the fabric. We are now side by side in the back row on the gay side. I unbutton my camo pants. I’m hard and I stroke, slowly, showing it off. He eyes the screen, not me. Then turns and gives my cock a quick look. Then a scope to see if others are looking. His zipper comes down. A mound of white jockeys. I glance over. Slowly he pulls out his cock-- slightly more than average in length, but truly beer can in thickness. His large hand barely fits around it.
We sit and stroke. In the row in front of us, the Italian has woken up and has slid between the knees of another black man. We lose sight of him, but you can hear his slurping. We watch the movie. My seat mate leans closer to my ear. “Suck my dick, boy.”
Fuck…
I am on my knees. He’s sitting with his legs wide apart, all the material of his shorts and open pants kind of in the way. I lean in and lick the head. I do a lot of tongue around his entire cock before I try to get it all in my mouth. I suck him in. Fuck. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything with my tongue. It’s the thickest cock I’ve ever had in my mouth. I know my teeth are not covered, but I can’t keep them that way as he pushes into my throat. I pull off and murmur an apology. He seems unfazed. I’m guessing it’s a matter of course for him. His hand finds the back of my head and pushes me back down.
Fifteen minutes later, my jaw is killing me. He has taken to jerking his cock into my open mouth. My tongue is all over his head. I’ve tried his balls, but he’s pulled me back into place. He wants to jerk it into my mouth. He works and works. Finally he just pulls up his Jockeys. “Look for me later.” And he’s out the door.
I get myself together. I go and piss, cool down a little and go into the straight theatre. There are maybe six men in the place. Standing in the corner is a good looking young man. Long hair, pulled back into a ponytail, jeans and sneakers. He has his dick out and is showing it off to the Smoker. He sees me and waves it in my direction. I kneel and take him to the root easily. It’s great to go back to a cock that is effortless after the other. I suck him for while, busily stroking my own dick. Soon he walks around me, and sticks his cock in Smoker’s mouth. I go behind him, work his jeans down and start rimming his hot little butt. He gasps and coats the smoker’s throat.
I look up. The black gentleman has been watching and stroking. He walks over to me.
“Open your mouth.”
I do. He shoots a load that covers my tongue. My beard. My nose.
I shoot right along with him.
I had spent three nights with family after visitation and services, folding my tall frame into a top bunk bed with my older brother beneath me. Shades of childhood--only back then he insisted on the top bunk. Now his problematic back demanded the lower. As they all went north for Thanksgiving, I drove south to resume my job in Tennessee. I stayed in Louisville in a cheap, cheap motel. I needed some anonymous action at the bookstore. No names, no internet hassles. I found just that…
“Do you mind?” We are the only two people in the straight theatre. He is good looking enough: longer hair, nicely formed features to go with the roman nose, a t-shirt with a band I’ve never heard of on it and tight black jeans. He’s waving a cigarette, though No Smoking signs are in evidence everywhere.
I make a non-committal noise. He flicks the lighter. He’s on the other end of the back row--a good five seats away from me. He’s one of those who comments on the porn. “Look at the rack on her.” or “Now he is hung.” It’s the latter I know he wants. He takes a fourth puff. It is over powering in the closed space. I button my fly. It’s a pretty limp video anyway--way too much interview time with the girls about to do their first movie. I walk over to the gay side.
Four men. Two older gentleman are carrying on a whispered conversation in the middle of the back row. I catch something about how much his retirement plan has gone down. There is an Italian looking man, asleep in the third row. And a young man in the second row. I sit there, with a good ten seats between us. As soon as I sit, he unzips and starts to beat. He is somewhere between 26 and 30 and a cub in build. His hair is cropped close to his head. He makes my cock stand up like the talkative girls in the porn could not. I stroke openly. The couple behind me leans forward. They look like they are at a tennis match--looking at me to the left; at the boy to the right. The boy looks at me furtively. I just stare at him. He comes over, body crouched as if he was going to get in the way of the projector. It puts his head right at crotch level. He deep throats me without batting an eye. Then he kneels with my cock impaling his throat. Holy fuck. He’s great. He can take me to the root on every stroke. When I see he is getting those thick strands of spittle, I pull him off me and kiss him deeply. He’s taken aback. Then warms up to the idea. He pulls away, diving for my cock again. I guide his head down to my balls. He likes that. He washes each of them, works his tongue between the cock ring and my balls with no guidance from me. Soon he’s back on my cock. About the time I think I might actually cum, he stops and says he needs a break.
He goes back to his seat. We stroke watching a Michael Lucas video. Soon, I go over to him. It’s my turn to surprise him by taking his cock to the root. I spend some time on his cock, but soon, I’m working down to his balls. Then lower. My tongue connects with his hole. I pull his legs up, to really get at it. He strokes furiously. I’ve found his spot. His hole is sweet with soap and fresh exertion sweat. I ram my tongue into him. Repeatedly. He’s panting. I am pretty sure I can fuck him right here. I bend forward. My cock slaps his hole.
With a loud groan, he shoots. Cum is everywhere. But he doesn’t care. I smile and go back to my seat.
It’s later. Many more men have come in. All ages and types. Lot’s of truck drivers since there is huge lot for them to overnight. A pair of boyfriends who want to show off in the front row. Older men who want to watch. A few active participants.
I move back and forth between the two rooms. I end up next to an older African American. I’ve seen him on both sides. Tall, in shape, hair just going white at the temples. But he hasn’t unzipped, he just plays with himself through the fabric. We are now side by side in the back row on the gay side. I unbutton my camo pants. I’m hard and I stroke, slowly, showing it off. He eyes the screen, not me. Then turns and gives my cock a quick look. Then a scope to see if others are looking. His zipper comes down. A mound of white jockeys. I glance over. Slowly he pulls out his cock-- slightly more than average in length, but truly beer can in thickness. His large hand barely fits around it.
We sit and stroke. In the row in front of us, the Italian has woken up and has slid between the knees of another black man. We lose sight of him, but you can hear his slurping. We watch the movie. My seat mate leans closer to my ear. “Suck my dick, boy.”
Fuck…
I am on my knees. He’s sitting with his legs wide apart, all the material of his shorts and open pants kind of in the way. I lean in and lick the head. I do a lot of tongue around his entire cock before I try to get it all in my mouth. I suck him in. Fuck. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything with my tongue. It’s the thickest cock I’ve ever had in my mouth. I know my teeth are not covered, but I can’t keep them that way as he pushes into my throat. I pull off and murmur an apology. He seems unfazed. I’m guessing it’s a matter of course for him. His hand finds the back of my head and pushes me back down.
Fifteen minutes later, my jaw is killing me. He has taken to jerking his cock into my open mouth. My tongue is all over his head. I’ve tried his balls, but he’s pulled me back into place. He wants to jerk it into my mouth. He works and works. Finally he just pulls up his Jockeys. “Look for me later.” And he’s out the door.
I get myself together. I go and piss, cool down a little and go into the straight theatre. There are maybe six men in the place. Standing in the corner is a good looking young man. Long hair, pulled back into a ponytail, jeans and sneakers. He has his dick out and is showing it off to the Smoker. He sees me and waves it in my direction. I kneel and take him to the root easily. It’s great to go back to a cock that is effortless after the other. I suck him for while, busily stroking my own dick. Soon he walks around me, and sticks his cock in Smoker’s mouth. I go behind him, work his jeans down and start rimming his hot little butt. He gasps and coats the smoker’s throat.
I look up. The black gentleman has been watching and stroking. He walks over to me.
“Open your mouth.”
I do. He shoots a load that covers my tongue. My beard. My nose.
I shoot right along with him.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Neoprene in the Steamroom
Indianapolis--November, 2011
The Professor and I met on Friday night. I worked all day Saturday, then got in the car and just drove to see how close I could get to home and the rest of the family for the funeral. I’d guessed the Club in Indy, and I was right. Usually this would be too fast to return to the same venue, but this was a special case. So once again I decided to use the bathhouse there for some fun (I hoped) and as a cheap motel…
It’s a typical Saturday night crowd. Younger. Some tweaked. All afraid to settle in one place. Much less have sex. I am in the steam room unwinding from the drive. Trying to de-compress from all the family stress that has been building up on the drive north--stuff that was easy to just not acknowledge when I was busy working all day. A few guys have reach out of the clouds of steam for my cock, but stop stroking it as soon as they hear the sound of the door open. God knows, they want Daddy…they just can’t be seen by others with me. All I want is a quick (for me) fuck and hit the bed. I am ready to try the dark room instead--when the door opens again, sucking the steam out of the back corner. Here he is…I just know it’s my boy for the moment. He’s taller, maybe 5’ 10”, trim, and lightly muscled. His hair is dark and shows up in great contrast to his very white skin. And he’s wearing a pair of Nasty Pig shorts--the kind that covers your cock and is fully cut away on the ass. The black Neoprene with blue piping, frame a voluptuous butt. Pale, downy and fuckin‘ full. I know from the moment he removes his towel, my cock will be up that hole.
He knows it, too. He barely sits before he slides over and deep throats my stiff, drooling cock. He’s only there for a moment, but he’s just fine. He instantly rises up and sits on me. But he’s only taking about half my cock. A crowd of a dozen guys have found us. I put my hands on his hips to pull him down a little more. He will have none of it. He gets off me and tries to back up on a hot boy who’s watching and stroking. That young man is so surprised (and I think freaked out by bare play) that he pulls out and races for the shower.
I rise, bend Mr. Neoprene over the seat and start licking his ass. He sighs. And gets up after maybe 30 seconds.
“Fuck me.”
I bend him back over and slide in to the hilt. He has an ass made for it. Velvety,wet and hot. He rears up so I all but fall out. Only my head and maybe an inch of my cock are working his hole. I push him back down. He stays for two strokes. He’s back up and reaching for a young black man. He corners him and backs up on the smaller, black cock. They fuck for a time, the bottom in total control. He soon pulls off him. As he bends to clean the black cock, I slide back in. I hit home. He rears up and pulls off….and leaves the steam room.
Later, he catches up with me upstairs. I fuck him for maybe six strokes outside his room.
Still later he’s in the dark room. No one will go up his ass, I can see him in the half light, fellate guys, turn to take it up his butt and they have moved away. So eventually he finds me across the room and backs up on my cock, still wet with someone’s saliva. Just as I’m in, he pulls up to kiss a dark shape in front of him and I slip out. And so it goes. A few strokes and out.
I manage some sling time with a bear, but his ass is dry and gritty.
Some fun head…but nothing that is gonna give me the orgasm that will help knock me unconscious for 4 hours…
Finally, I find Mr. Neoprene hanging out by his bedroom door.
“I need to get off,” I say bluntly.
“You have a great cock, Man. But you are just too big for me.” He goes in and shuts the door.
I walk back to my room, screw in my earplugs, put on my leather blindfold and almost succeed in willing myself to sleep.
The Professor and I met on Friday night. I worked all day Saturday, then got in the car and just drove to see how close I could get to home and the rest of the family for the funeral. I’d guessed the Club in Indy, and I was right. Usually this would be too fast to return to the same venue, but this was a special case. So once again I decided to use the bathhouse there for some fun (I hoped) and as a cheap motel…
It’s a typical Saturday night crowd. Younger. Some tweaked. All afraid to settle in one place. Much less have sex. I am in the steam room unwinding from the drive. Trying to de-compress from all the family stress that has been building up on the drive north--stuff that was easy to just not acknowledge when I was busy working all day. A few guys have reach out of the clouds of steam for my cock, but stop stroking it as soon as they hear the sound of the door open. God knows, they want Daddy…they just can’t be seen by others with me. All I want is a quick (for me) fuck and hit the bed. I am ready to try the dark room instead--when the door opens again, sucking the steam out of the back corner. Here he is…I just know it’s my boy for the moment. He’s taller, maybe 5’ 10”, trim, and lightly muscled. His hair is dark and shows up in great contrast to his very white skin. And he’s wearing a pair of Nasty Pig shorts--the kind that covers your cock and is fully cut away on the ass. The black Neoprene with blue piping, frame a voluptuous butt. Pale, downy and fuckin‘ full. I know from the moment he removes his towel, my cock will be up that hole.
He knows it, too. He barely sits before he slides over and deep throats my stiff, drooling cock. He’s only there for a moment, but he’s just fine. He instantly rises up and sits on me. But he’s only taking about half my cock. A crowd of a dozen guys have found us. I put my hands on his hips to pull him down a little more. He will have none of it. He gets off me and tries to back up on a hot boy who’s watching and stroking. That young man is so surprised (and I think freaked out by bare play) that he pulls out and races for the shower.
I rise, bend Mr. Neoprene over the seat and start licking his ass. He sighs. And gets up after maybe 30 seconds.
“Fuck me.”
I bend him back over and slide in to the hilt. He has an ass made for it. Velvety,wet and hot. He rears up so I all but fall out. Only my head and maybe an inch of my cock are working his hole. I push him back down. He stays for two strokes. He’s back up and reaching for a young black man. He corners him and backs up on the smaller, black cock. They fuck for a time, the bottom in total control. He soon pulls off him. As he bends to clean the black cock, I slide back in. I hit home. He rears up and pulls off….and leaves the steam room.
Later, he catches up with me upstairs. I fuck him for maybe six strokes outside his room.
Still later he’s in the dark room. No one will go up his ass, I can see him in the half light, fellate guys, turn to take it up his butt and they have moved away. So eventually he finds me across the room and backs up on my cock, still wet with someone’s saliva. Just as I’m in, he pulls up to kiss a dark shape in front of him and I slip out. And so it goes. A few strokes and out.
I manage some sling time with a bear, but his ass is dry and gritty.
Some fun head…but nothing that is gonna give me the orgasm that will help knock me unconscious for 4 hours…
Finally, I find Mr. Neoprene hanging out by his bedroom door.
“I need to get off,” I say bluntly.
“You have a great cock, Man. But you are just too big for me.” He goes in and shuts the door.
I walk back to my room, screw in my earplugs, put on my leather blindfold and almost succeed in willing myself to sleep.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Picture #6
This is part of the photo shoot that a f-bud did for me.
It's my basement wall.
It was January.
And fucking freezing...
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
The Professor
Nashville--November, 2011
Before I left for Tennessee, Rob the Breeder had written me that a reader of his, and mine as it turned out, had written, asking if Rob thought I might be interested in fucking him. This was my first brush with a reader. A couple of my boys know I’m writing things up, but I haven’t played with either since October when this began. It creates a very different set of nerves than the usual hook up feel. Since the Professor had no pictures online--or any in his possession at all--I went to his house for an introductory scotch. I mentioned it in my hiatus post:
“…and actually met a very enthusiastic reader. We had a marvelous 4 + hour talk about sex, books, kinky sex, scotch, filthy sex, movies, piss sex, straight porn and antiques. We played a little that night, but not until it was way too late. (I mean, he showed he his jock-strapped hole, how could I not lick it? Finger it?? Fuck it just a little??? But it was almost 5am…) Tonight I hope to be doing some things with him he rarely gets to do….”
And we did.
We are in his bedroom. He’s moved his massive, expensive looking bed to one side. There is room for the sling to the left of it and the rim seat at the foot. I am careful to cover the hardwood floors with tarps. He adds a blanket to catch any run off. I’m stripping down to a jock and boots--a fetish of his. I look at the professor as I put the boots back on, having folded the pants and tossed them in a corner. His profile describes himself as 49 years old, with a stocky, solid build, with a seven inch, thick, uncut cock and a world class hole. I sampled both, briefly two nights before. Absolute truth in advertising. What he doesn’t mention is what a gentleman he is in the living room and how he’s anything but that in the bedroom--eager, willing, wanting new sensation.
He’s in a white jock and t-shirt, starting up the TIM porn we use as background fuck noise. I sit on the side of the bed and point to the floor. He kneels and begins licking the pouch of my jock. I’m pretty sure he’s erect and poking out of the side of his. I pull the balls free, and let his tongue get them sopping wet. Slowly I reveal the full shaft. He works it down his throat. He’s good. Really good. I relax and let him work my drooling cock. I’m not sure he’s ready to stop sucking, but I have to taste his hole.
I stand up and help him to his feet. I suggest he get on the bed, on all fours. It’s my turn to kneel on the floor. His ass cheeks are sturdy--they feel great as they try to squeeze me out of his crack. I stop stroking myself and use both hands to pull them apart. He takes a hit of poppers, and I plunge in. Fuck, yeah. It’s my turn to get lost--in licking his hole, using my beard to rub against it and his entire crack. He changes back and forth between poppers and Maximum Impact. We are lost in sensation. I pull his hard cock back, work the foreskin back and swab my tongue across it. I put all the precum into his ass.
Eventually I rise. It’s time for the Professor to try something new. I get under the rimseat. It’s my turn for a hit of poppers. I lie back, put the seat down and he sits carefully. The seat spreads his generous ass. My tongue slips into him.
“You are so deep in me.” He takes a hit of poppers which only allows me to get slightly deeper yet. The taste of his worked hole, flavored with his precum, is amazing. I lick and chew and spit at it. We could both stay right here most of the night. But I want to stick my cock in that hole. I double tap his thighs to get him up and off. I rise.
“I’ve never been in a sling.” I help him get situated. His legs are in the stirrups. He’s suspended perfectly in line with my throbbing cock. I bend to lick his hole and taint for a moment. He takes a hit of MI--and I enter. Not fast, not slow, just a steady thrust forward. I watch his eyes. They widen and roll back in his head. I stroke long and slow. He can’t keep his hands off his nipples. I taste his hole. I fuck him hard and fast until the chains rattle. Winded, I dig out a pair of forceps. I tweak each nipple and clamp it down. Not terrifically tight--just enough to really feel the constant throb. I re-enter him. His ass is velvet. And I love the sound my hips make as they smack his full, upturned ass. I fuck. And fuck. This time when I pull out I don’t dip to eat out his hole. I piss on it. I’m sure I take him by surprise--but he seems to love the warmth. He certainly loves the feel of my tongue cleaning it all off his hole.
Licking my piss has caused me to be rampant. I enter him. This time I see a flash of pain across his face.
“Sore?”
“A little.”
I ease out. Remove the forceps. The throb is most intense now as the blood races back into his nipples. My mouth is there, sucking them, swabbing them back to normal.
“But I want your cum in my ass.”
I smile. I rim him just a little. When I sense he’s taken a hit, I enter his ass. I’m building to release fast. A little more. Fuck, yeah. I fuck harder. And I shoot. I watch his face. I can see him feel every spurt. I dip for a minute and clean his hole with my tongue.
I ask if he want to get off, but he’s good.
We pack the sling.
We do a rather chaste good bye kiss.
And I’m off into the night.
I’d mentioned in passing that we were watching the one Dawson video I didn’t own. The Professor popped the disc and handed it to me. A nice gesture from a sweet man.
The first day we met, I charged him with making a devil’s dick of his own cum for me to use on him. We were planning a re-match before I left town. My unexpected departure for Michigan mid-trip, changed the amount of time I had to play significantly. I’m hoping we can still meet up before I leave Nashville--so I can slip all those frozen loads up his ass to use as the perfect lube…..
Before I left for Tennessee, Rob the Breeder had written me that a reader of his, and mine as it turned out, had written, asking if Rob thought I might be interested in fucking him. This was my first brush with a reader. A couple of my boys know I’m writing things up, but I haven’t played with either since October when this began. It creates a very different set of nerves than the usual hook up feel. Since the Professor had no pictures online--or any in his possession at all--I went to his house for an introductory scotch. I mentioned it in my hiatus post:
“…and actually met a very enthusiastic reader. We had a marvelous 4 + hour talk about sex, books, kinky sex, scotch, filthy sex, movies, piss sex, straight porn and antiques. We played a little that night, but not until it was way too late. (I mean, he showed he his jock-strapped hole, how could I not lick it? Finger it?? Fuck it just a little??? But it was almost 5am…) Tonight I hope to be doing some things with him he rarely gets to do….”
And we did.
We are in his bedroom. He’s moved his massive, expensive looking bed to one side. There is room for the sling to the left of it and the rim seat at the foot. I am careful to cover the hardwood floors with tarps. He adds a blanket to catch any run off. I’m stripping down to a jock and boots--a fetish of his. I look at the professor as I put the boots back on, having folded the pants and tossed them in a corner. His profile describes himself as 49 years old, with a stocky, solid build, with a seven inch, thick, uncut cock and a world class hole. I sampled both, briefly two nights before. Absolute truth in advertising. What he doesn’t mention is what a gentleman he is in the living room and how he’s anything but that in the bedroom--eager, willing, wanting new sensation.
He’s in a white jock and t-shirt, starting up the TIM porn we use as background fuck noise. I sit on the side of the bed and point to the floor. He kneels and begins licking the pouch of my jock. I’m pretty sure he’s erect and poking out of the side of his. I pull the balls free, and let his tongue get them sopping wet. Slowly I reveal the full shaft. He works it down his throat. He’s good. Really good. I relax and let him work my drooling cock. I’m not sure he’s ready to stop sucking, but I have to taste his hole.
I stand up and help him to his feet. I suggest he get on the bed, on all fours. It’s my turn to kneel on the floor. His ass cheeks are sturdy--they feel great as they try to squeeze me out of his crack. I stop stroking myself and use both hands to pull them apart. He takes a hit of poppers, and I plunge in. Fuck, yeah. It’s my turn to get lost--in licking his hole, using my beard to rub against it and his entire crack. He changes back and forth between poppers and Maximum Impact. We are lost in sensation. I pull his hard cock back, work the foreskin back and swab my tongue across it. I put all the precum into his ass.
Eventually I rise. It’s time for the Professor to try something new. I get under the rimseat. It’s my turn for a hit of poppers. I lie back, put the seat down and he sits carefully. The seat spreads his generous ass. My tongue slips into him.
“You are so deep in me.” He takes a hit of poppers which only allows me to get slightly deeper yet. The taste of his worked hole, flavored with his precum, is amazing. I lick and chew and spit at it. We could both stay right here most of the night. But I want to stick my cock in that hole. I double tap his thighs to get him up and off. I rise.
“I’ve never been in a sling.” I help him get situated. His legs are in the stirrups. He’s suspended perfectly in line with my throbbing cock. I bend to lick his hole and taint for a moment. He takes a hit of MI--and I enter. Not fast, not slow, just a steady thrust forward. I watch his eyes. They widen and roll back in his head. I stroke long and slow. He can’t keep his hands off his nipples. I taste his hole. I fuck him hard and fast until the chains rattle. Winded, I dig out a pair of forceps. I tweak each nipple and clamp it down. Not terrifically tight--just enough to really feel the constant throb. I re-enter him. His ass is velvet. And I love the sound my hips make as they smack his full, upturned ass. I fuck. And fuck. This time when I pull out I don’t dip to eat out his hole. I piss on it. I’m sure I take him by surprise--but he seems to love the warmth. He certainly loves the feel of my tongue cleaning it all off his hole.
Licking my piss has caused me to be rampant. I enter him. This time I see a flash of pain across his face.
“Sore?”
“A little.”
I ease out. Remove the forceps. The throb is most intense now as the blood races back into his nipples. My mouth is there, sucking them, swabbing them back to normal.
“But I want your cum in my ass.”
I smile. I rim him just a little. When I sense he’s taken a hit, I enter his ass. I’m building to release fast. A little more. Fuck, yeah. I fuck harder. And I shoot. I watch his face. I can see him feel every spurt. I dip for a minute and clean his hole with my tongue.
I ask if he want to get off, but he’s good.
We pack the sling.
We do a rather chaste good bye kiss.
And I’m off into the night.
I’d mentioned in passing that we were watching the one Dawson video I didn’t own. The Professor popped the disc and handed it to me. A nice gesture from a sweet man.
The first day we met, I charged him with making a devil’s dick of his own cum for me to use on him. We were planning a re-match before I left town. My unexpected departure for Michigan mid-trip, changed the amount of time I had to play significantly. I’m hoping we can still meet up before I leave Nashville--so I can slip all those frozen loads up his ass to use as the perfect lube…..
Monday, November 28, 2011
The Park
Nashville--November, 2011
I left for Nashville soon after the Suit left the bookstore. In three hours I was there. In four hours I was moved in and sitting in one of the largest parks in the area. When I first worked in Nashville 25 years ago all of Nashville’s parks were packed with men looking for sex. Added park rangers on bikes, several stings, surveillance equipment and a newly built high school close by have changed the tenor of the place in the last few years. But the day I arrived, with temperatures in the high 60’s in mid November, the place was jumping like it was 1977.
The park I have always gone to is huge for being so near a metropolitan area. Huge as in 2684 acres of forest, trails, steep hillsides, picnic shelters and a couple of restrooms. Many of the winding roadways have been closed for cars, so runners abound. As do mule deer, raccoons, opossums, bluebirds and enough squirrels for every other tree.
My first summer there I remember lying on the hill in front of one of the Federal Works Project style picnic shelters. I still sat in the sun back then and had nothing on but a Speedo that clung to every curve of my cock. I had guessed about the park, but it was my first introduction to cruising Southern style. A silver Buick, the size of boat, came around the curve and hit the brakes. The car remained motionless for a time, then proceeded to the parking lot. Soon a man in his sixties, approximately the same size as his car and wearing little other than short shorts and flip-flops, made his way up he hill towards me. He began circling me (pausing to catch his breath on the picnic table behind me. after each time around) The circles got smaller and smaller. Each time he passed my feet I heard him say, “It sure is hot out.” I would nod and go back to my book. Soon he was close enough that I could see the tiny head of his uncut cock hanging out of those short shorts.
We did not hook up.
So many memories flooded through my brain as I drove into the park:
A three way in the back picnic table shelter one midnight in the pouring rain.
A mutual blowjob with an ebony skinned hiker, lost in the hills.
The lithe, red haired runner who let me eat his ass in the restroom, but would not let me fuck it, since I still used condoms exclusively back then.
The trail where I used to fuck guys, bent over a log.
A small clearing down by the river where countless blowjobs were given or received.
The good looking man who drove his Volvo relentlessly around the park while jerking off.
The lithe, red haired runner getting my load two years ago--as his usual fuck bud watched.
I am sitting on top of the hill, the same one I sunbathed on all those years ago. It has a direct view of the restroom where all the action happens. In no time, a car passes me and parks at the restroom. He looks up at me and goes in. I can see blond hair, jeans and sneakers, a little younger than me. I wait and count. He’s been in there too long. I go down the hill.
It’s dark inside after the bright sunshine. But he’s still there at the right hand urinal. I take the left. Even manage to piss. And get hard after all the sex the night before and this afternoon. I stroke. It’s obvious that’s what he is doing, but a small partition keeps us from seeing each other.
We wait. Eyes dead ahead. Soon enough he looks over. I turn and catch his eye. He looks away. We wait. Again. Eyes meet. I step back and show him my erect cock. He’s on his knees and I’m feeding it to him. He’s okay. Not great. Almost instantly there is the sound of a car on the gravel outside. We spring apart, and are back at the urinals, looking nonchalant, by the time a bearish looking guy ambles in. He goes to the toilet beyond us--a cinderblock stall with no door. We hear him drop his pants. The blond soon zips up and run off scared. I do an elaborate hand wash. The guy is still back there. I go to the paper towel dispenser on the far wall. It is conveniently placed so you can look directly into the stall. I’m glad I do. The bear has a remarkable beer can cock that he’s stroking obscenely. He stands, showing it off. I kneel and take it in my mouth. He shoots a thick ropy load at once. The sound of another car on gravel. We separate--he sits and I move to the sink as a young man comes in. He pisses and is gone before I can wash my hands. I dry them and hike back up the hill.
A black SUV is soon circling the winding road. He goes up the hill that is next to mine, where the remains of a companion shelter sits. I listen for him to come back down. He’s stayed up there. I hike up the taller hill. The SUV is parked to the right, with a child’s seat in the back, but no one is in the vehicle. Down the path into the woods? Or behind the roofless shelter’s fireplace? I go to the shelter first. A nice looking young dad has his dick out and is stroking. He turns away when he sees me, but he doesn’t put it away. He hears me open my jeans. He turns back to me.
“Suck me,” he says. “Please.”
With the bear’s cum still on my breath, I slip to my knees. I pry his fist off his very average cock, and slowly slide it into my mouth. He grabs my head and begins pumping it into my face. I try to slow him down, but he’s going to blow before I even get started. And he does, muffling a groan. Not a lot, but great flavor. He turns away instantly and just shoves his sticky cock back in his khaki’s. I do myself up and walk back to my car.
I have company. A true country boy. A carpenter by trade, with all his tools in the back of the once red pickup. I recognize him from previous years. He gives great head. He waves for me to join him in his cab. He’s already unzipped and hard. A thick, red uncut slab of cock is in his hand. I get in and unbutton. His hand holds my meat, giving it a few strokes. Then he reaches up to my neck and pulls me into his crotch. Well, damn…
I suck. And suck. He’s no minute man. I finally get him off by licking his balls until he’s pleading with me to swallow his seed. I do. And get my reward. Another sizable load blasts down my throat.
He thanks me. I take a long walk in the woods. I sit and read. A familiar car appears. It’s the first man. Again, he walks into the bathroom. I hike down the hill. No games this time. He gets on his knees and sucks my cock. I make him work. But he’s nervous. So I give him what he wants…
In two or three days time, it’s colder and the restrooms are closed for the winter. The men are gone, save for an occasional lone car. I still go out after work, to walk off some stress--but I‘m pretty much alone in the park with some dog walkers and all those squirrels.
I left for Nashville soon after the Suit left the bookstore. In three hours I was there. In four hours I was moved in and sitting in one of the largest parks in the area. When I first worked in Nashville 25 years ago all of Nashville’s parks were packed with men looking for sex. Added park rangers on bikes, several stings, surveillance equipment and a newly built high school close by have changed the tenor of the place in the last few years. But the day I arrived, with temperatures in the high 60’s in mid November, the place was jumping like it was 1977.
The park I have always gone to is huge for being so near a metropolitan area. Huge as in 2684 acres of forest, trails, steep hillsides, picnic shelters and a couple of restrooms. Many of the winding roadways have been closed for cars, so runners abound. As do mule deer, raccoons, opossums, bluebirds and enough squirrels for every other tree.
My first summer there I remember lying on the hill in front of one of the Federal Works Project style picnic shelters. I still sat in the sun back then and had nothing on but a Speedo that clung to every curve of my cock. I had guessed about the park, but it was my first introduction to cruising Southern style. A silver Buick, the size of boat, came around the curve and hit the brakes. The car remained motionless for a time, then proceeded to the parking lot. Soon a man in his sixties, approximately the same size as his car and wearing little other than short shorts and flip-flops, made his way up he hill towards me. He began circling me (pausing to catch his breath on the picnic table behind me. after each time around) The circles got smaller and smaller. Each time he passed my feet I heard him say, “It sure is hot out.” I would nod and go back to my book. Soon he was close enough that I could see the tiny head of his uncut cock hanging out of those short shorts.
We did not hook up.
So many memories flooded through my brain as I drove into the park:
A mutual blowjob with an ebony skinned hiker, lost in the hills.
The lithe, red haired runner who let me eat his ass in the restroom, but would not let me fuck it, since I still used condoms exclusively back then.
The trail where I used to fuck guys, bent over a log.
A small clearing down by the river where countless blowjobs were given or received.
The good looking man who drove his Volvo relentlessly around the park while jerking off.
The lithe, red haired runner getting my load two years ago--as his usual fuck bud watched.
I am sitting on top of the hill, the same one I sunbathed on all those years ago. It has a direct view of the restroom where all the action happens. In no time, a car passes me and parks at the restroom. He looks up at me and goes in. I can see blond hair, jeans and sneakers, a little younger than me. I wait and count. He’s been in there too long. I go down the hill.
It’s dark inside after the bright sunshine. But he’s still there at the right hand urinal. I take the left. Even manage to piss. And get hard after all the sex the night before and this afternoon. I stroke. It’s obvious that’s what he is doing, but a small partition keeps us from seeing each other.
We wait. Eyes dead ahead. Soon enough he looks over. I turn and catch his eye. He looks away. We wait. Again. Eyes meet. I step back and show him my erect cock. He’s on his knees and I’m feeding it to him. He’s okay. Not great. Almost instantly there is the sound of a car on the gravel outside. We spring apart, and are back at the urinals, looking nonchalant, by the time a bearish looking guy ambles in. He goes to the toilet beyond us--a cinderblock stall with no door. We hear him drop his pants. The blond soon zips up and run off scared. I do an elaborate hand wash. The guy is still back there. I go to the paper towel dispenser on the far wall. It is conveniently placed so you can look directly into the stall. I’m glad I do. The bear has a remarkable beer can cock that he’s stroking obscenely. He stands, showing it off. I kneel and take it in my mouth. He shoots a thick ropy load at once. The sound of another car on gravel. We separate--he sits and I move to the sink as a young man comes in. He pisses and is gone before I can wash my hands. I dry them and hike back up the hill.
A black SUV is soon circling the winding road. He goes up the hill that is next to mine, where the remains of a companion shelter sits. I listen for him to come back down. He’s stayed up there. I hike up the taller hill. The SUV is parked to the right, with a child’s seat in the back, but no one is in the vehicle. Down the path into the woods? Or behind the roofless shelter’s fireplace? I go to the shelter first. A nice looking young dad has his dick out and is stroking. He turns away when he sees me, but he doesn’t put it away. He hears me open my jeans. He turns back to me.
“Suck me,” he says. “Please.”
With the bear’s cum still on my breath, I slip to my knees. I pry his fist off his very average cock, and slowly slide it into my mouth. He grabs my head and begins pumping it into my face. I try to slow him down, but he’s going to blow before I even get started. And he does, muffling a groan. Not a lot, but great flavor. He turns away instantly and just shoves his sticky cock back in his khaki’s. I do myself up and walk back to my car.
I have company. A true country boy. A carpenter by trade, with all his tools in the back of the once red pickup. I recognize him from previous years. He gives great head. He waves for me to join him in his cab. He’s already unzipped and hard. A thick, red uncut slab of cock is in his hand. I get in and unbutton. His hand holds my meat, giving it a few strokes. Then he reaches up to my neck and pulls me into his crotch. Well, damn…
I suck. And suck. He’s no minute man. I finally get him off by licking his balls until he’s pleading with me to swallow his seed. I do. And get my reward. Another sizable load blasts down my throat.
He thanks me. I take a long walk in the woods. I sit and read. A familiar car appears. It’s the first man. Again, he walks into the bathroom. I hike down the hill. No games this time. He gets on his knees and sucks my cock. I make him work. But he’s nervous. So I give him what he wants…
In two or three days time, it’s colder and the restrooms are closed for the winter. The men are gone, save for an occasional lone car. I still go out after work, to walk off some stress--but I‘m pretty much alone in the park with some dog walkers and all those squirrels.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
The Suit
Louisville--November, 2011
I was surprisingly awake and ready to go the next morning after a full night of bathhouse sex. Maybe it was because I never shot a load. Maybe it was because I was able to sleep fairly well on my prison cot of a bed. Or that food was calling my name. Anyway, I hit the road at the end of my eight hour limit there, ate, gassed up the car and continued South to Louisville, only some two hours away. I’d napped a little at a rest area and had arrived at the bookstore just before noon to see if there was a lunch time crowd. I purchased the combo pass for both the straight and gay theatres from the overweight man behind the counter. He seemed pissed off that I made him do some work…
I look up into the security camera. The man behind the desk knows I’m here. I’ve just left him and walked around the corner. But he makes me wait. Because he can. Eventually the door buzzes open and I enter the straight theatre. Even at this hour, it smells of disinfectant. And men. It’s dark. There seems to be only one seat occupied of the twenty or so available on this side. I see a crop of thinning gray hair sitting in the front row. I move into the back right corner. The action seat. Easy to turn to get cock in the aisle. And the only seat in the back three rows where there is not a seat in front for easy access to me. I knead my cock through my 501’s. On the screen an incredibly built man in his late 30’s is working over a teenaged girl. I slowly become aware that I can hear the man in the front row stoking: his seat squeaks in rhythm.
I wait for what seems like an eternity. No one else enters. I still have not gotten out my cock, but it’s plumped, making a large bulge for me to stroke through the fabric. I think about seeing what the older man has in his hand. Just as I resolve to get up, he rises, walking to the door. But he doesn’t leave. I hear him move behind me, leaning on the back wall. I stare straight ahead and start to unbutton my jeans. Waistband. First button. Second. I dip my hand in. I can feel him watching me. Third. And fourth. I splay open the front of my jeans. The once white jock is looking decidedly off-white today. Every scrap of pouch fabric is filled with engorged penis. I think his cock is back out. I’m sure that was the sound of his zipper going down. Do I turn to him? Let him make the first move? I wait. I free my balls and run my fingers lightly over them. My cock is drooling. I know it needs release. Just as I’m about to turn around to look at him, the man moves into the aisle. His drooling dick slaps my ear. My head turns to him and I get a mouthful of hard cock.
And he explodes.
I swallow. I try to savor it for a minute, but he pulls out. My cock is still under wraps. He moves back behind me and I hear the ubiquitous fast food napkin emerge from a pocket to wipe himself down. It’s tossed on the floor. A zip. And he’s gone. And I really have no idea what he looked like.
And my cock kinda likes that.
By 1:00pm the room is getting more active. Seven or eight guys are watching the only adequate porn. Most are stroking. And all seem to be more interested in the screen than actually playing. I button up, and walk to the bathroom. I meet a very hot guy who’s Hollywood handsome in a grey pin stripe suit. All hair product and tight double Windsor knot. I don’t see which theatre he goes into. I find the men’s room, piss and head to the gay theatre. It’s bigger, and seats more. Which amuses me. There seems to be no one in the place, but a Raging Stallion video is playing so I stay.
Wait. I’m wrong. There is a guy on the far side in the shadows. I unbutton. He stands up and moves forward into more light. It’s Mr. Pinstripe. He takes off his jacket and puts it in the seat in front of him. He does the same with his tie and shirt. He’s now half naked. He removes his shoes. And pants, folding them carefully. His boxer briefs are tented. My cock is out and throbbing. It’s been a great show. Dressed in nothing but the Calvin Klein’s and dress socks, he sits at the far end of my row. He’s done this before. There is a pool of light from somewhere that falls on that seat. It shows off his chest definition. And the sizable cock he pulls out of his shorts. We stroke. Looking at each other, not giving a shit about the men on screen. He pulls the shorts back over his hard cock. I think the show is over. But no. He crawls slowly to me through the upturned seats. Soon his hot breath is on my cock. I turn my body slightly in his direction and he takes me to the root in one long gulp. Fuck, he’s s good. No teeth. A constantly moving tongue. Just the right amount of suction. And he’s sloppy. His spit is everywhere on my shaft and balls. I lean forward and soon his spit is in my mouth. We kiss hungrily. He’s unbuttoning my shirt, I’m playing with his nipples. He stands up, and just as hungrily, shoves his cock in my mouth. His cock is a faucet. The precum is salty. I can’t get enough. After just moments, he pulls out of my mouth.
“I’ll cum.”
I stand and with the slightest pressure of my hand on his neck, I push him to the floor. He’s back on my dick in no time. I’m not sure he won’t have a load sooner than I usually give them. He stops, huffs poppers and redoubles his efforts to make me explode. I’m close. I stop him with a hand laid on his chiseled chin, fingering the slight stubble. I pull him up. We kiss again. Long and hard.
“I want to eat your ass.”
He doesn’t answer me, he merely pushes past me and climbs onto the aisle chair. His ass is as hairy as the rest of him. I look and stroke. I run my hands over the globes, slightly twisting and tugging the hair in his crack. I kneel. His scent is all man with a hint of the cologne from early this morning. My first taste is right on his hole. It’s electric. To him and to me. My cock drips as if it had shot. He moans, huffs poppers and groans again.
“Fuck, you go deep.”
I don’t answer. I just twist my tongue deeper, pulling his cheeks apart. I have thoughts of breeding this man and sending him back to work in that suit. With my cum dripping out of him all afternoon. My cock is granite. He’s moaning as loud as the guys on the screen. I stand, slap my cock against his up turned ass. He wants it.
“I’m cumming!” He twists in the chair towards me. My mouth finds his cock and I take his salty load. He pants and grunts, calling me a fucker. I won’t let go until I have the last drip. I come up for air, and help him down off the chair. He stands beside me. I long to kiss him, but I’m not getting that vibe, now he’s shot. He touches my cock. He strokes it lightly.
“I’m gonna blow.”
He kneels and jerks it off over his chest. I shake and have to sit down, it’s so intense.
When I look over at him, he’s getting into his pants and shoes. He finds a handkerchief and wipes the semen off as best he can, but it’s matting his chest hair. He’ll at least have me with him that way.
Soon he’s put back together. He hugs me. His mouth is right next to my ear. “You’re a hot fucker. I hoped you’d come in here.”
He leaves.
And I sit and wonder if he’ll secretly shower before his partner sees all that matted hair and dried cum. Or whether he’ll tell him proudly how he got it.
I was surprisingly awake and ready to go the next morning after a full night of bathhouse sex. Maybe it was because I never shot a load. Maybe it was because I was able to sleep fairly well on my prison cot of a bed. Or that food was calling my name. Anyway, I hit the road at the end of my eight hour limit there, ate, gassed up the car and continued South to Louisville, only some two hours away. I’d napped a little at a rest area and had arrived at the bookstore just before noon to see if there was a lunch time crowd. I purchased the combo pass for both the straight and gay theatres from the overweight man behind the counter. He seemed pissed off that I made him do some work…
I look up into the security camera. The man behind the desk knows I’m here. I’ve just left him and walked around the corner. But he makes me wait. Because he can. Eventually the door buzzes open and I enter the straight theatre. Even at this hour, it smells of disinfectant. And men. It’s dark. There seems to be only one seat occupied of the twenty or so available on this side. I see a crop of thinning gray hair sitting in the front row. I move into the back right corner. The action seat. Easy to turn to get cock in the aisle. And the only seat in the back three rows where there is not a seat in front for easy access to me. I knead my cock through my 501’s. On the screen an incredibly built man in his late 30’s is working over a teenaged girl. I slowly become aware that I can hear the man in the front row stoking: his seat squeaks in rhythm.
I wait for what seems like an eternity. No one else enters. I still have not gotten out my cock, but it’s plumped, making a large bulge for me to stroke through the fabric. I think about seeing what the older man has in his hand. Just as I resolve to get up, he rises, walking to the door. But he doesn’t leave. I hear him move behind me, leaning on the back wall. I stare straight ahead and start to unbutton my jeans. Waistband. First button. Second. I dip my hand in. I can feel him watching me. Third. And fourth. I splay open the front of my jeans. The once white jock is looking decidedly off-white today. Every scrap of pouch fabric is filled with engorged penis. I think his cock is back out. I’m sure that was the sound of his zipper going down. Do I turn to him? Let him make the first move? I wait. I free my balls and run my fingers lightly over them. My cock is drooling. I know it needs release. Just as I’m about to turn around to look at him, the man moves into the aisle. His drooling dick slaps my ear. My head turns to him and I get a mouthful of hard cock.
And he explodes.
I swallow. I try to savor it for a minute, but he pulls out. My cock is still under wraps. He moves back behind me and I hear the ubiquitous fast food napkin emerge from a pocket to wipe himself down. It’s tossed on the floor. A zip. And he’s gone. And I really have no idea what he looked like.
And my cock kinda likes that.
By 1:00pm the room is getting more active. Seven or eight guys are watching the only adequate porn. Most are stroking. And all seem to be more interested in the screen than actually playing. I button up, and walk to the bathroom. I meet a very hot guy who’s Hollywood handsome in a grey pin stripe suit. All hair product and tight double Windsor knot. I don’t see which theatre he goes into. I find the men’s room, piss and head to the gay theatre. It’s bigger, and seats more. Which amuses me. There seems to be no one in the place, but a Raging Stallion video is playing so I stay.
Wait. I’m wrong. There is a guy on the far side in the shadows. I unbutton. He stands up and moves forward into more light. It’s Mr. Pinstripe. He takes off his jacket and puts it in the seat in front of him. He does the same with his tie and shirt. He’s now half naked. He removes his shoes. And pants, folding them carefully. His boxer briefs are tented. My cock is out and throbbing. It’s been a great show. Dressed in nothing but the Calvin Klein’s and dress socks, he sits at the far end of my row. He’s done this before. There is a pool of light from somewhere that falls on that seat. It shows off his chest definition. And the sizable cock he pulls out of his shorts. We stroke. Looking at each other, not giving a shit about the men on screen. He pulls the shorts back over his hard cock. I think the show is over. But no. He crawls slowly to me through the upturned seats. Soon his hot breath is on my cock. I turn my body slightly in his direction and he takes me to the root in one long gulp. Fuck, he’s s good. No teeth. A constantly moving tongue. Just the right amount of suction. And he’s sloppy. His spit is everywhere on my shaft and balls. I lean forward and soon his spit is in my mouth. We kiss hungrily. He’s unbuttoning my shirt, I’m playing with his nipples. He stands up, and just as hungrily, shoves his cock in my mouth. His cock is a faucet. The precum is salty. I can’t get enough. After just moments, he pulls out of my mouth.
“I’ll cum.”
I stand and with the slightest pressure of my hand on his neck, I push him to the floor. He’s back on my dick in no time. I’m not sure he won’t have a load sooner than I usually give them. He stops, huffs poppers and redoubles his efforts to make me explode. I’m close. I stop him with a hand laid on his chiseled chin, fingering the slight stubble. I pull him up. We kiss again. Long and hard.
“I want to eat your ass.”
He doesn’t answer me, he merely pushes past me and climbs onto the aisle chair. His ass is as hairy as the rest of him. I look and stroke. I run my hands over the globes, slightly twisting and tugging the hair in his crack. I kneel. His scent is all man with a hint of the cologne from early this morning. My first taste is right on his hole. It’s electric. To him and to me. My cock drips as if it had shot. He moans, huffs poppers and groans again.
“Fuck, you go deep.”
I don’t answer. I just twist my tongue deeper, pulling his cheeks apart. I have thoughts of breeding this man and sending him back to work in that suit. With my cum dripping out of him all afternoon. My cock is granite. He’s moaning as loud as the guys on the screen. I stand, slap my cock against his up turned ass. He wants it.
“I’m cumming!” He twists in the chair towards me. My mouth finds his cock and I take his salty load. He pants and grunts, calling me a fucker. I won’t let go until I have the last drip. I come up for air, and help him down off the chair. He stands beside me. I long to kiss him, but I’m not getting that vibe, now he’s shot. He touches my cock. He strokes it lightly.
“I’m gonna blow.”
He kneels and jerks it off over his chest. I shake and have to sit down, it’s so intense.
When I look over at him, he’s getting into his pants and shoes. He finds a handkerchief and wipes the semen off as best he can, but it’s matting his chest hair. He’ll at least have me with him that way.
Soon he’s put back together. He hugs me. His mouth is right next to my ear. “You’re a hot fucker. I hoped you’d come in here.”
He leaves.
And I sit and wonder if he’ll secretly shower before his partner sees all that matted hair and dried cum. Or whether he’ll tell him proudly how he got it.
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