SpiritHole

Ann Arbor—September, 2016

We thought we were going to meet last fall, but he had a stomach bug which stopped that plan.  It took another year for us to get together.  However, since that time, we’ve met once a month.  Here are some highlights…

He meets me on the front porch of his beautiful, large house.  I bring in my bag of leathers.  Then we go outside in the fading late afternoon light to see his massive garden.  It is a work of art.  It’s late fall—I can only imagine what it must look like in the spring or summer. 

I let him lead the way.  He’s worn his leathers—but we are in such a secluded place, the city feels far away.  His eyes come alive as he talks about his plants.  (I soon learn that having sex causes that same spark.)  He has a mischievous smile.  A shaved head.  I stand next to him—I size him up at about 5’ 10”.  He’s very slim and fit from all the yoga.  And once we are inside (having grabbed my rimseat from the car) he shows me the intricate tattoo on his back.  It is of two coiled snakes—one with his mouth right at his ass.  He explains (and I know I’ll get this wrong as I write it here) about how his meditation and yoga work has released all the coiled primal energy at the base of his spine.  The symbol for that force is the serpent.  He is deeply in touch with that energy—and warns me he usually has explosive anal orgasms.

We end up in the uppermost level of the house.  One area has a Fort Troff sling hanging on its red frame.  The other area has a large double bed.  I get into my leathers as we talk some more.  I learn he’s on PrEP.  He asks about why I chose FelchingPisser as a screen name and tells me it conjures up so many great images.  He wonders aloud about what his name might be.  We come up with SpiritHole.

He is on his knees before me, getting my dick hard.  We don’t spend too long there, I can’t wait to sample his ass.  I bend SpiritHole over on the bed—his feet spread wide on the floor, his chest to the mattress.  I kneel between his splayed legs and sample the pucker highlighted by the snake’s open mouth and forked tongue.  I connect for the first time.  I go deep.   His hole flowers open.  I spit and massage it.  I stand up and enter.  He begins shaking as I bottom out.  I fuck him with slow, deliberate strokes.  I begin a build to a good fuck tempo.  He shudders and mumbles encouragement into the bed coverings.

I flip him over.  I want to see his eyes as I enter him.  I am not disappointed—our eyes lock as I push into him.  But they roll up into the top of his head as I build to a hard fuck. My hips slap his upturned ass and are the only sound in the room besides his guttural exclamations of pleasure.

*****

We’ve moved to the sling.  I am eating his fucked out hole.  SH is a great self luber.  His ass is awash with the juices that make my dick drip. 

I rim. 

I swallow. 

I insert. 

I fuck.

We take pictures.

*****

I get him on the rim seat—a new experience, I think, for SH.  He literally drips ass jizz into my open mouth.

We are there a long time.  Until I have to get up and breed him.

My Playroom—October, 2016

We start on the fuckbench.  I always seem to start there…but the ass is spread so perfectly for my tongue.  I wash his ass crack with piss (his first experience—at least with me.)  I kneel and clean him up.  

We fuck—with plenty of ass to mouth as I bring my cock, fresh from his hole, to his mouth.

And back again.

Repeatedly.

*****

In the sling now.  And I’m fucking.

“I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to piss up my ass.”

I stop drilling him.  “You mean like this?”  The warmth of my piss is spreading through his gut.  His eyes glitter and, as I start to pump, still spurting, they do the roll up into his head.  “Take every drop.”  I pick up the tempo.  I am splashing piss out on the back stroke, soaking the towel beneath us.  I churn my piss for a few minutes before I slow, pull out and taste the mix of piss and ass jizz. 

He’s so damn wet…But I don’t get the mouthful I expect.  I dig deeper.

*****

Later that session, I unwrap a wintergreen Star Brite candy and fuck into his wet ass.  “Now, let’s get you out of the sling.  I want you on the rimseat so you can feed me that out of your hole.”  I get under.  He sits.  I tongue him.  He’s wide open.  But his ass is so wet and hot, he’s already melted the Star Brite.  I eat out his newly flavored hole. 

I eat him—until I need to breed him.

Ann Arbor—November, 2016

We play on the bed.

We fuck in the sling.

“This time,” SH tells me, “I want to eat your ass on the rimseat.”

I have gotten in the sling for him to spear me with his tongue each session we’ve met.  (And he’s offered to fuck me with his uncut cock each time.)  SH gets under the seat—another first for him.  I sit.  My hole spreads.  Both of us are very happy to be there for a long time.

*****

We are on the bed.  I tie a bandana over my eyes.  I work my cock ring off—he wants to lick me everywhere.  I open my legs and get my hands under the back of my head.  He’s on top of me, then to my side, then between my legs.  He licks my cock, suckles my balls, licks my pits and spends a long time with his mouth plastered to my nipples and my mouth.

SH rolls me on my side and bends my legs.  His body is pressed to my back as his tongue invades my ass yet again.  I am warmed by his whole body. 

And I don’t feel like moving at all…

Happy Thanksgiving

To my readers in the USA, I will wish a quick Happy Thanksgiving.

Wherever you my live, it is not a bad day to take a moment and think about the things for which you are thankful.

My list includes:

Having a job I (mostly) still love.

Good health.

My readers.

The true and lasting friendships I have made with many of the men who invite me into themselves—and into their lives.

And that the cock still works….

Happy Thanksgiving!

  

I am off for a brief family meal.  And then visiting a new couple who are more interested in my hands than my dick…

"I Don't Think I Can Take Any More...."

My Playroom—September, 2016

The next man in my playroom, Judd, was another man I had been talking to for a long time.  He had been recommended to me by a mutual playmate who knew him as a top.  But he was very vocal to me about being versatile.  We had to juggle his work schedule with some family duties of his and with my odd schedule.  But we found time—almost immediately after my last adventure. 

We sent the usual texts.  He told me he really needed to get fucked. 

Bareback?  “Yes.  And breed me.”

Restraints?   “Sure.”

Toys?  “Maybe.”

Watersports?  “YES!” 

He cut my quiz short with a final salvo:  “Just do whatever you want to me, as long as your dick is in my hole.”

Judd is naked but for a blue jock.  He’s late 20’s with a shaved head.  He’s pale, though it’s the end of summer.  There is a shoulder tat—a skull—and a forearm tat— a dagger dripping blood.  He’s thin and lithe, maybe 5’6”, 150 pounds.  His cock is hidden by the jock, though I know from his profile that it’s bigger than average. 

He gets right to his knees and starts mouthing my jock.  It must still reek of Brock’s juicy ass.  Jonah grunts his appreciation of it.  His tongue snakes out and gets the pouch really wet.  He pulls my cock out.

I stop him with “Do my balls.”  His tongue is great.  He doesn’t try to pull them into his mouth, he just licks them.  It makes my cock go from semi-erect to full on hardness.  I pull away from him and push my dick into his mouth.  I hold his head and fuck.  He takes ¾ of my length.  I pull out and go right back down his throat.  This time to the root.  And he takes me just fine.  My dick comes up with that deep throat slime.

“Get on the bench.”  He does.  I wipe my dick down his ass crack, so all that throat jizz is covering it. This elicits another grunt of pleasure.  I kneel and eat him out.  He’s tight.  But he knows how to open for my thrusting tongue.

“Your tongue feels great.  But give me that dick.”

I ignore him.  I eat him out some more.  He grabs the handles on the fuck bench and holds on.  I stand up and slap his ass with my wet dick again.  “You still want this big dick up you?”

“Yeah.”

I slap him with it again.

He corrects himself.  “Yes, Sir.” 

"Yes, Sir what?”

“Give me that raw dick, Sir.” 

And on the word “Sir” I push the head into him.

“FUCK!”

“Take it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

And he does.  I never stop working it into him.  I stop only when he has the full length.  Then I fuck him hard.  I reach over to the bureau and grab my water bottle, never missing a stroke.  I take a long swig of water.  I pull out of his ass and piss pours out of me.  All down his ass crack.  “Fuck, that’s hot,” he whimpers.

I kneel and lick it up.  I fuck some more.  I pull out and, this time, bring my dick to his mouth.  There is no hesitation at all on ass to mouth.  He cleans me avidly.

Fuck.

Clean.

Fuck.

Rim.

Fuck.

Piss.

I get the wrist restraints off the sling chains and fasten them on him.  The sling frame is wide open, with the sling just hanging from the front two chains.  I take him over to it and attach the wrist restraints above Judd’s head.  “Arch your back.”  He does.  His young fucking ass juts out at me, hanging there, at my mercy.

I eat his hole again.  He is so fucking wet from the play.  I make a show of spitting his butt juices back into him.  I fuck him in this position.  He is totally compliant.  I pull out and piss his ass crack again.  I lick it off.  I save some in my mouth.  I bring it up to his mouth.  He hungrily opens to let me yellowball the piss to him.  We kiss.  Roughly.

I let him down, to give his arms a break.  I turn him around.  The arms go back up.  He’s now facing me, strung up and at my mercy again.  I pull his cock out of the jock.  I go down on him until he’s rock hard.  I have just enough in my bladder to do a short blat of piss on his hard inches—and I clean it off with my mouth.  Again—I stand and make him taste my piss and his precum.  He’s juicing like crazy—he’s totally getting off on being used.

I suck some more.  I let him down.

The sling goes up.  We fuck there, too.  Hard and long.

I make him sit on the rim seat.  Not that he’s fighting.  I get my tongue so deep into his juicy ass…

Then it is sling time again.  I fuck.  I pull out and send piss flying across his chest.  One spurt hits his open mouth.  The rest puddles on his chest.

“Sir, I’m going to cum.”  He is stroking himself.  I knew I should have fastened his hands above his head.

I get my dick back in his ass.  I fuck his jizz out of him.  He cums noisily.  I scoop it up with my right hand.  I don’t pull all the way out.  “I’m smearing it on my cock,” I tell him.  I do just that.  And fuck it into him.

“I don’t think I can take…any…more…”

He never finishes the thought for I begin whitewashing his insides—making guttural noises that drown him out…

Role Reversal

My Playroom—September, 2016

He had been writing to me for close to a year.  And he seemed to have an unerring instinct to send me a message about wanting to get fucked at the moments I was busiest in my real life.  He asked if we could hook up the day my Dad went into the hospital last winter.  During the summer, I found messages asking whether I was free to fuck when I hadn’t opened the hook up site in 6 or 7 days as I was so busy with work.  He asked again to play on the day I was leaving for Canada this September.  So I made sure that I got back with him the moment I got home.

In fairly short order we were able to settle on a date.  He wanted a pretty simple fuck—with none of the extras I can supply.  He was young.  I guessed he was attending the university nearby.  He wouldn’t send a face pic, but the pictures he did send certainly showed a young man in good shape—tall, a worked out chest and a very large cock with a decided downward curve.  He wrote that he was tired of guys approaching him “as nothing but a Big Black Cock” and he needed a big white cock up his trim bubble butt.  He was ok with getting fucked bare, but would prefer that I not breed him…

Right on time, Brock rings my doorbell.  He has a handsome face, to go along with the handsome body.  He looks rather embarrassed as I let him in.  We go right upstairs to the playroom.  I point to the chest of drawers where he can store his clothes and I go down stairs to strip.   I head back upstairs in my bathrobe and with the computer for some porn to play while we fuck around.  I catch him, totally naked, looking at all the toys and sexual equipment set out on the other bureau in the room.

“Can guys really take something this big up their asses?” he asks, hefting the biggest dildo I own.

“Not many.  That was left here by a regular who could take it like it was nothing more than a breadstick.”

“I’m gonna have trouble taking you, much less that thing.”  He puts it back with the others.

“Why don’t you get it hard and see.”  My hand points to the section of the padded floor in front of me.  Brock gets on his knees.  He pulls the jock aside.  (I’ve made sure it’s a clean one.)  He takes my dick into his mouth.  It swells immediately.  He pulls back as my cock wants to go right down his throat.  He knows how to suck.  Brock concentrates on the head, using lots of tongue.  Occasionally he takes almost my full length down his throat.

He pulls off, panting.  “That’s bigger than your pictures.”

I heft it in my left hand and softly slap it against his cheek.  “Isn’t that better than the other way around?” 

He opens his mouth to answer and I stick it back in his mouth.  I hold him gently in place and begin to fuck his face.  He grunts—a sound I can’t tell if it’s good or bad.  I look down at his dick—it is drooling heavily, leaving a sticky white mess on the black exercise mat.  His dick tells me it’s good.

“Let’s get you up on the fuck bench.  I want to eat that ass.”

Brock scrambles up and into place.  “Go slow,” he reminds me.

My tongue finds his hole.  This makes him reach back and pull his cheeks apart.  I spend a long time getting him as wet as possible.  I lube my dick as I burrow even deeper into his tight, tight hole that is beginning to relax.

I’m going to try to go in.  I stand up.  My wet head is right against his pucker.  It tightens right back down.  I start talking to him, asking him about the last guy he fucked.  A fuck bud?  Anonymous?  Does he have lots of repeats who want that big dick?

Brock answers each question.  It relaxes him.  And I’m buried inside him.  Suddenly he realizes it, too.  “How much is in me?”

“Just over half.”

“Fuck…”

And I inch the rest of it into him.  I hold.  I fuck.  Slow and gentle.

“Can I get off my knees?”

I pull out reluctantly and suggest the sling.

“I’ve never been in one of these either.”  I get him into the stirrups.  His legs spread that wide, opens his hole, making for an easy re-entry.  I fuck.  I eat him again and stand up to do some more.

“I need to take a break from that thing.”

I get him out and pour him some water.

I suggest the rim seat.  I know he likes my tongue.

“This is new, too.”

I get under.  He sits—that full ass is close to smothering me.  I poke into him.  He can’t stop telling me how deep my tongue is up his hole.  I can hear him flogging his big dick.  I keep eating, waiting for him to explode any moment.

Without warning he stands up.  “Let me ride you.”

I get up and onto the bed.  He straddles me, facing me, inching down on my cock.  His big piece of meat looks angry and wet.  He strokes it once he’s down to my pubes.

It takes no time at all.  He is no longer in my room.  He’s focused on something above us.  And on the sensations in his clinging, tight ass.  And in moments my chest is covered with only a load a man in his 20’s can shoot.  Huge.  And creamy…

A short session (less than an hour).  And it seems to have scratched Brock’s itch.  He’s not been online since.

"I'm Just A Fucking Whore"

Northern Michigan—September, 2016

I always cross the Canadian border at Port Huron/Sarnia instead of Detroit/Windsor.  There is less traffic and I can avoid going through Detroit.  Coming home this way after my night at SteamWorks, I realized that I was horny as fuck—thinking about all the sex of my week in Canada.   I also realized that I was closer than usual to a bookstore that I don’t get to very often anymore.  As if the car had a mind of its own, it took the exit north before I had fully decided what I should do.

I had an early dinner, checked into a cheap motel room and went for a night at the bookstore.  It is set up slightly differently.  Your one admission gets you into a gay theatre, a straight theatre (plastic chairs facing a large screen television) and down a hall, there are 14 booths—7 playing gay films, 6 playing straight and one screening bi-sexual porn.

I am in the straight theatre.  I’m sitting in the corner watching two women share an amazingly large dick on the screen.  I am back to watching the movie.  I have been sucking the man on my right.  He is a nice looking older guy—but he stops me and pulls me off his dick every time there is a noise in the hallway or the door opens.  Heaven forbid that another patron see him getting his cock sucked.  After the tenth time (honestly!) I give up.  He looks at me.  Pissed.  And finally puts his cock away and leaves the room.

I stroke.  But I’ve lost the mood.  I get up and sit in the gay theatre.   One man finally comes in—and the foul, unwashed smell of his clothes are too much for me.  I beat a hasty retreat.

The straight side is still empty.

I make the rounds.  Three or four doors are closed and locked tight.  I can hear sex happening behind most of them.  Wet blowjobs are unmistakable through the plywood.

I sit in a corner booth.  I leave the door wide open.  I pull out my cock.  It’s a gangbang movie.  This will work just fine…

I don’t know how much time later, I recognize the fact that absolutely no one has wandered by.  I have heard one door open and bang shut.  One of the formerly locked booths leaving.  I decide to go exploring.  I stand and start to put my cock away. 

And I hear movement.  A man is coming this way.  I sit and concentrate on the screen.  He passes my door.  It’s a new arrival.  He’s late 40’s and in clothes that are much too nice for this place.  He stops at the booth directly across from me.  He opens the door and looks in, studying the screen.  He turns in my direction.  I study the screen and make sure that he can see every inch of my dick.  When I finally turn to him, he all but blushes and turns back to the screen in his booth.

We do it again.

This time he comes over to me, a little unsteady.  One too many glasses of wine with that good dinner, perhaps.  He stands outside my door.  He’s tall, nicely trim and his clothes fit him very well.  He grins.

“You have a big cock.”

I smile back at him.

“I guess guys tell you that all the time.”  He fills my doorway with his body.  “I got a pretty nice one, but not like that.”

“Show me.”

He unzips his expensive pants.  And a thick seven incher emerges.  “Will you suck it?” he whispers.

He steps into my booth.  It’s tight, but we fit if I stay seated.  He fumbles with the door lock, finally getting it latched.  He turns fully to me and I take his cock into my mouth.

“Nice…” he croons.  I suck him to the root.  He groans quietly, then whispers:  “I went out to eat with the family.  They all went home for a nightcap, but I…I needed something.  I’ve been horny all day.”

I pull off his dick and look at it.  The head is very red.  And wet.  I take just the head into my mouth and use every trick my tongue knows.

This time he pulls it out of mouth.  “I’m just a fucking whore,” he mumbles.  “Can I suck you?”

“Sure.”  It takes some maneuvering in the tight space to get me to stand, back to the screen and for him to sit on the bench.  We make it.  And he enthusiastically takes half my dick into his mouth.  I wasn’t expecting much—but he’s good.  He knows what to do.  He beats his own dick like crazy.

“I want your load,” I tell him.  “In my mouth.”

He grunts assent around my dick and goes for the full length.  He gets all but the last inch.  I fuck it into his face.  He instantly stops beating.  I’m obviously doing something right.  I grab him by the ears and begin to deliberately fuck his face.  In.  Out.  All but to the root.  My bush smashing against his nose.

I let go.  And let him come up for air.

“That almost made me shoot.”

“I noticed.”

“I love big dick.  If I’d thought about it, I’d have cleaned up and I’d be sitting on that thing right now.”  This surprises me, but I don’t let on.  “Do you fuck?”

“Sure.”

“I’d so let you load my ass.”

This surprises me much more.   “Let me see it.”

“What?”

“Your ass.  I want to see this ass you’d like me to fuck.”

“But we can’t.  I’m not ready….”

“I know.  I just want to look.”

We do the shuffle around again so he’s standing in front of the screen and I’m back on the bench.  I suck his cock as a teaser, then turn him around.  The expensive pants come down off a very nicely rounded ass.  He lets them drop to the dirty floor.  I push the designer briefs down and run my hands over his butt as he jerks.  He’s mostly hairless.  I pull his cheeks apart slightly.  There’s some hair there.  And a tight, pink hole. 

I lean forward.  My tongue touches it. 

“Oh, shit,” he whispers.  “Eat this whore’s ass out.”  I poke and prod him with my hard tongue.  The guy jerks like crazy.  I tongue him deeper.

He shoots. And it’s not in my mouth.  But he’s very happy.  He pulls himself together and leaves.

I stand up and pull up my jeans from where they’ve been around my ankles.  My thighs are suddenly wet. 

I don’t know how he managed it, but he’s shot his load right into the crotch of my pants.

Return to SteamWorks

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A Voice In the Dark of Night

The Wilds of Ontario—September, 2016

I stayed the night at SteamWorks.  When my alarm went off, I went to find a shower.  The halls and rooms were deserted.   It was, after all, a Monday night now Tuesday morning.  I cleaned up and checked out before needing to renew.  It was just after 4:00am as I walked to my car through the sleeping streets of Toronto.  I napped a little in my car in its secluded parking spot.  And then, before I left town, a good full breakfast with a different kind of Canadian sausage.

I was not headed to my usual area for my camping this year—but to a big gay campground in Ontario.  Fortunately, for peace and quiet, it was after their main season.  Unfortunately, for dick and ass, it was after their main season.  I was meeting a fellow top.  (We often play when I head to the bookstore which is half arcade/half bathhouse.  He loves to share ass with me and likes my oral skills on his big dick…).  He’d been on his campsite there for a week in his big, new trailer.  I pitched my little tent next to it, so his dogs could keep their beds inside. 

We both knew this week was about relaxing—not getting guys into the outdoor play area. And thank goodness we weren’t really looking—for the place was pretty much deserted.  There were a couple of very large bears who came in on day passes and who sat at the pool.  My friend did point out a young couple who were cabin sitting for friends.  One was drop dead gorgeous and one was biker-chic hot.  We always nodded to them on our walks, but that was that.  Instead, my f-bud and I read.  I went to the theatre one night.  Other nights we had a campfire—something I hadn’t done in years.  We walked the trails—during the warm days and in the cool, star filled evenings.  It was great to pause in a late night walk and give him some head in the middle of an open field—the only light being those stars and a distant plane that moved slowly, blinking red, across the sky.

I was still having trouble sleeping—left over from my stressful summer.  I would go right to sleep but be wide awake at 4 in the morning.  Occasionally, I could go back to sleep, but usually I had to get up and do something.  This particular mid-week morning, I grabbed my computer out of the car and took it to the recreation building—the one public place with electricity.  I set up and began writing a blog post.  The only light in the place was from the screen of my laptop.  My only company was a rather tame chipmunk who was less surprised to see me, then the other way around…

I’m writing about a bookstore encounter.  It’s coming easily and I’m remembering what I did in vivid detail.  I am typing away.  I don’t get hard—but my cock is certainly plumped inside my jeans.

“Hey—there’s someone in here.”  The voice in the darkness is loud, even though he said it under his breath.

I look up, startled.  “Hello.”  I can’t see the speaker.

“Are you the guy in the tent?”

I admit I am.

The voice comes closer.  It’s two of them, actually.  I can finally make out that it is the young couple.  The tattooed Biker looking one is speaking.  “You horny?  My boyfriend wants to watch me suck some dick.”

I tell him I could be persuaded.  And ask him where.

“At the cabin where you’ve seen us weeding.   Ten minutes.”  And they are gone.

I pack up and tuck the computer into the car.  I piss against a convenient tree and go hiking around the semi-circle drive to their cabin.  They are both there on the screened in porch, sitting on an overstuffed couch.  They start stripping off as I come in the door.  Both are likely mid-30’s.  The gorgeous one is a Hollywood-pretty blond.  Ripped—without going crazy.  The Tatted one is decently put together, too, but with too many random tats.  But at this moment, he is giving off a great sexual vibe.

“He’s a top,” the Tatted One tells me, pointing at his partner.  “I am too, but I get fucked by him.”

I nod.

“But I love to suck…” and he stops mid-sentence as I pull my pants down.  “Fuck, dude.  I thought you were packing and I was right.” 

I finish stripping down to my socks. 

The Blond gets up off the couch, hefts my dick and says, “Fuck his face with that thing.”  The Blond steps out of the way and begins stroking himself to hardness.  The Tatted One gets on his knees to get me fully hard.  He’s good.  Repeatedly to the root.

“Get on the couch,” the Blond tells his partner.  The Tatted One knows just what he wants.  He lies on his back, his head on the arm of the sofa.  I step up on the couch and fuck into his mouth.  The blond steps forward so he can see my dick enter his partner.  “Damn, if I didn’t have to go to work, I’d let you pump that up my ass.”

Just the thought of fucking the Blond makes me fuck into the Tatted One’s mouth harder.  I pull out and let the Blond replace me fucking into his partner.  I lean over and position myself so my tongue is reaming the Blond’s ass on his backstroke.  He groans.  And it makes him shoot all over the Tatted One’s face.  He mutters a ‘thanks’ to me and goes off to clean up for work.  The Tatted One is mopping the cum off his face and licking his fingers.

He gets up and checks to see if other men are around.  It’s not yet 5:30am.  I’m pretty sure not.  I get him to settle back down and work on my dick.

He gets up again.

When he comes back I offer to eat his ass, too.  This finally keeps in place for a bit.  But soon he is up and checking the “noise” he’s heard.

His partner comes in, fully dressed, thanks me and leaves.

Now it starts in full force.  The Tatted One is everywhere but where he should be:  On my dick.  He’s at the window.  He’s whistling for the dog.  He is trying to find a bottle of water he swears he had (and I’ve never seen.) 

It sinks in that he’s high.

I get him back on my dick for a moment.  When he moves off me again.  I jerk myself.  On his trip to the other side of the porch, I corral him for a moment, sit him down and shoot on his face.  He barely notices.

I excuse myself, get dressed as fast as I can and go back to my sleeping bag.

And sleep.

*****

On the day I left I did get my f-bud back to the play area in the woods.  He loves gloryholes…and the slurp ramp style GH’s there did the trick.  We had far better sex in those few minutes than I had with the two supposedly hotter men.