Friday, March 28, 2014

Been A While

He'd been out of town for a bit, and I'd been traveling too.

It had been months since I've played at his place - either in his bed or in his sling.  I think September was our last opportunity.

We have a deep bond, that goes beyond mere trick, but not quite deep enough to be more than that at the same time. We chat - in person and text -, we kiss, we joke, we fuck.

More importantly, HE fucks. Me.

When it comes down to it, he slides his 7" dick up my ass and fucks me in all kinds of positions.

The man knows what to do with his cock like few others I've experienced. Maybe it's because he flip fucks. I mean, not so much with me, but he does take what he gives. That's admirable in a guy.

I'm not as admirable, if those are the rules of engagement.

I went by his place and his door was open of me. I secured it shut. While guys walking in and joining in could be hot, it would not be - at least in this neighborhood.

He greeted me with a great mouth lock, and his hand taking me immediately back to his bedroom. Little foreplay, some chatter as we both took off our clothes. No pretense as to what I was here for. Or what he wanted from me. Or me from him, for that matter.

I sucked him a little. He ate my hole a little. But that 7" had somewhere to be - and I wanted it.

The guy can fuck. Nice and easy, hard and rough and all in between. He can pummel my ass where it actually feels good for both of us. Though something might be said about my ass being able to take dick after all this time without the look of being on the verge of pain.

I welcomed the face down  on the bed position. That was after I was on my back, on all fours at the edge of the bed and bent over the bed. It is me being face down he does his best work - and that's saying something.

The feel of him popping into my hole and the immediate sinking all the way in. Bottoming out.

With him there is not 'wait....let me get used to it' scenario.  He's there to fuck. But I know that going in (though he's the one going in).  I want him to feel the pleasure. He wants to feel it too. He might want me to feel pleasure to - not that he asks. But he knows, he almost has to.

I kind of make noise. Lots of sounds. Grunts. Groans. Half-words, even.....and none of them are 'no' or 'stop' or 'hold on a minute'.  So he keeps plugging away.

As I've said in other posts, this is not a fuck for the novice. While there might be breaks here and there, mostly for position changes, these are generally 60-90 minute sessions. This was no different.

We ended up with me riding his dick. With my stroking mine.

You've read here most of the time I don't come during sex. Most of the times I don't want to. Most of the times they don't want me to.

He does. And even if I had a thing against it, this guy earns it. The fuck he delivers, if he wants me to see me shoot my load on him, it's the fucking least I can do.  Literally.

He likes the way I shoot - in volume, in velocity, in intensity.  Of course, he made me laugh right when I was at the edge and he said, "don't get ANY on my sheets".

With his orgasm and mine and my laughing  - and jerking motion - well, the first shot went over his head onto his pillow case. Most went on him, and a few went off to the side on to his sheet.

But to be fair, none of his cum got on his sheets. I don't know what happened to it. It all disappeared.

Monday, March 24, 2014

Bearded Top

He had one of those beards you'd see on Duck Dynasty.  Long. Scraggly. Unkempt.

You don't expect it to be soft as it is. You don't expect it to be soft at all.

The guy was handsome and dare I say, would be extremely so, if he trimmed the beard. But I get he digs it and the growth certainly wasn't a turn-off for me. I mean, here I was, at his loft. After dark. Both of us with impure thoughts and aspirations.

He opened the door and I smelled pot breath immediately. No worries - while it's not my thing, it was not overdone and it didn't seem like it would get in the way of anything we'd be doing.

There was no playing around and little getting to know each other. We got right down to it.

We both stripped and I was put on my knees. Sucking cock was about our only foreplay.

"Mike" is more versatile than I would have thought - or wanted, but we both knew why I was there that evening.

My sucking him was merely a brief introduction. In a minute I wast bent over the back of the couch that was right near the entryway.  With a hit of poppers for both of us, he pushed his way up my ass.  His dick wasn't large, about 6.5", but he knew how to use it, as he was very skilled.

Mike wasn't going to be one of these fast in and outs and then show me the door. We played for almost two hours. Within the main room of his loft, I was on just about ever surface.

Over a chair. Over that couch. On the couch.  Bent over the couch from the front - kneeling on it hanging over the back.  My back on the ottoman.  My stomach on the same ottoman, and then kneeling on it.

It shouldn't be overlooked that we used the floor too - on my knees, on my stomach, on his back with me riding him. Though I also rode that pole of flesh while sitting on his lap in that chair and on the couch.

His 6.5" never lost too much hardness, though there were times we took a few minutes to recover between positions. I would eat his ass, or he would eat mine. I sucked him a few times, but he was more ass focused than wanting oral attention on his pole.

Near the end we were slightly on a time line, as he did want me out of there before his partner came home. Whether the partner knew I was there or not was unclear - nor did I care (unless he did come home and would be super upset - and bigger than me).

We did end the meeting with me over the ottoman, just being hammered.  I've said it before, will say it now and no doubt will say it again:  I love that line the fuck where the guy on top crosses where he doesn't know (or care) who is under him. We cease to be a person and more of a destination.  Maybe it even goes past being a hole.

Yes, the hole will take the cock.  Yes, the hole will take the load.  But the brain snaps a bit and all it can see it white light at the end where all they want to do is shoot.

...and I'm fucking ok with that.

Afterwards, he was appreciative and even wanted to see me get off, though I declined. It's a nice gesture, but we both knew why I was there and there is no need to feel the need to do 'something' for me - even if it's watching me jack.

Hopefully I'll get another invite.

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Black For More

The big black cock came back the next day.  Just like I said - he called the next day, asked if I knew who it was and wanted another meet-up.

He has 9+", who the fuck was I to say "no"?

This time I was ready with the lube, the poppers and the plug. I wasn't assuming we'd do the same thing, but better to be ready than scramble at the last minute.

He walked in like he owned the place. He was familiar now. With me. With the space. Though in reality he wasn't that familiar, he had the confidence to act like he did.  That's just as important.

All his clothes came off this time, except his hat, glasses and chains around his neck. Don't ask me why, but I hope he never takes off those - they make him look hot and confident in that way.

That big black stick was shaking in the wind. Hanging there so long, so heavy. Waiting to fill up with blood so it could become rigid.

Of course I helped him along.

I knelt and took that massive pole in my hand. Even soft, he was bigger than most guys are when erect - in length and girth.  He responded to the touch - as he started thickening and straightening. He grew to full size as it went into my mouth.

"Girls find it easier to take if their heads hang off the bed", he said. The implication was clear.

Soon, I was taking it all the way down, but not without a struggle. Not without my air being cut off by that massive black rod. My eyes watering. Me wanting to gasp for breath.  You could see the twinkle in his eyes when he'd get that reaction.

"You like it rough".

It wasn't a question.

He plugged my face for several more minutes, always allowing me to catch my breath at what was seemingly the last possible second.

He had me scoot back on the bed and then knelt next to me. More feeding. And like last time, the creep of his body until his ass was over my face.  I ate it. No words. No question.

The guy (still no name) told me to insert the butt plug again. I did. He stood there between my legs, again, and watched.

"You want fucked.  Got a rubber?", he said and asked.  I did want and did not have.  "I only fuck safe.".   Fair enough.

He still had me push that plug in and pull it out.

"Roll over".   I did.  On my belly.

He didn't put it in me, but started rubbing that dark meat at my hole.  Then he slapped my hole with it. I could feel the heat emanating from his flesh.  He'd stroke his dick between hitting me with it. Touching me with it.

He also, I found out, was applying some lube to it as well, for his stroking. And slapping.

And apparently, inserting. As with one thrust, he buried his bare black cock halfway up my ass.  So much for "only safe".

No lies - it hurt. He's big He is HUGE.  It hurt.

I caught my breath. I grimaced, not that he could see my face. I'm sure the tension in my body said it all.

"You said you liked it rough".  Whether I did nor did not, his statement before wasn't a question, so I didn't reply with a yes or no. I guess my lack of response was a yes.

I did not ask for 'slow down' or 'easy', as I knew that would be futile on my part. This wasn't a man for compromise or negotiation.  I've learned a few things over my years.

His hands were on either side of my torso, supporting himself for his fuck.

HIS fuck.  Not mine.  Not ours.  This was his and his alone. It is doubtful this was the first fuck he'd delivered like that - to man or woman.  He was too skilled at what he was doing.

"Reach back and pull your cheeks apart".  I did. No questions.

He pulled out saying he couldn't cum in me. Then proceeded to squirt his load onto my hole. After that he pushed it in with his cock.

This is a hot movie technique for sure, but for his 'safe' issues and not wanting to cum in me, I'm not sure of the purpose. He still had his raw cock in me, he still delivered his load.  Either way, I got it all.

No words exchanged as he went to clean up.  A few words exchanged on the way out the door and that was it.

He called two days later.

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Have the Lambs Stopped Crying Clarice?

Now and again, one might get themselves into situations they'd rather be free from - literally and figuratively.

The guys on-line who are flaky, scary, annoying and just dicks are one thing. There is usually a block feature for those. It is the seemingly normal ones you don't know are freaks until you're with them.

I had been chatting with a guy on Recon. I mention the site because that site does tend to have an edgier client base.  I'm ok with that. Edgy is fine. Perverted is fine. Psychotic, is not.

His profile seemed normal. Our chat seemed normal. Though he told me if there was anything I wanted to party with, I had to bring it.  I clarified I do NOT party and if he did that was fine, but it's not my scene. He claimed he does not party - or not during work days.  That should have been my red flag, but I ignored it.

He wanted to be worshipped. I can deal with that in a masculine man too. His pictures looked more than decent. I opted to travel.

The house he claims was "a nice one" might have been after Jeffrey Dahmer had fallen on hard times. On the outside it was fine, on the inside, was dark. It was cold. He certainly rarely picked up after himself.

Mind you - what I'm writing is all in retrospect, so my thoughts going in versus while there versus after the fact won't be consistent. My final memories are going to prevail. So when you think of why I was there, try to think of the before.  ..even the during.

He greeted me at the door, in what would be an elaborate wearing of several pairs of underwear.  Tight boxer briefs, compression shorts, a wrestler singlet and a thong. He told me of his fetish, but I never imagined multiple pairs at a time.

"Grab my bulge". I did. It felt nice and firm. Of course at this point I still don't know about the padding of multiple layers.

It was a series of stand up, kneel, touch this, touch that.  Yes Sir. No Sir. Thank you Sir kind of things.

Done right, this can be a hot scenario. Done wrong, it can be icky.  Done creepy, it can be threatening - at least on some levels.  It was a combination of the last two.

Curtains were drawn, I was stripped down.  Soon, I had shackles on my wrist. And while I think he thought they were secure, a blind, deaf and mute Houdini could have gotten out of them if needed.

The man liked to be close. But the man was not like his pictures - maybe at one time. But for his not being a drug user (at least on weekends), something about him reeked of meth - and not just his complex chronic halitosis.  ...there was nothing simple about that.

He was hoping at some point that I would be his 'boy'.  His 'slave'.  He even walked me through his kitchen and said, 'when'  (not if) you are my boy, you'll be doing my dishes.  Dishes that clearly had not been done for weeks. Tons of them, stacked -  and he allegedly lived alone. I half expected to see cockroaches.

I might be a sub guy, but I'm not slave material. My backbone is far too strong to bend that way. Clearly he thought otherwise.

He talked about how he'd like to shave every hair off my body. He tried to talk down to me - and I let him think he was, but he didn't have the skill for it. Not like the think he did.

This man was all about ill conceived notions of himself - that he was smarter, better looking and more dominant than he was.

IF he could have gotten hard, he would have had a beautiful cock. But he couldn't get hard - or keep hard. Maybe I wasn't a turn on to him (I hope I wasn't). But I'm going back to that he was a meth user and those fuckers just can't do anything with their dicks when they're high.

But back to the talking down to - a good dom man can do it and cut to the quick. He can make you feel degraded while giving you a hard-on at the same time.

He said he was tough as nails and nothing I could say or do would ever bother him.

And while this guy's words were mean - to and about me - they weren't resonating within me.  "You're a loser - no one will ever love you".   Then he asked me if I ever had suicidal thoughts - and if so, how he'd like to show me how to cut myself with a razor blade so there'd be no saving me.  ...and how messy it would be....and how he'd want to see the mess.

It was then I planned my departure / escape. I'd been thinking about it anyways, but now I had to enact it.

I slipped into the conversation that a "good boy" always leaves notes where he is going, especially if he doesn't know his host.  I also mentioned having to be somewhere at a certain time, which was coming up just

This threw him off guard enough to start to look for his phone in the mess that was his house. I offered to help. That got me out of the restraints by him, so I could let him feel in control.  I said I'd get my phone to call his so it'd ring.  But instead I got my pants and shirt on and slipped on my shoes without tying them.

With my phone in my back pocket, I told him I left it in the car...and I had to be going anyways.

The man still had MY underwear - don't ask - and I told him to keep it. He said he planned to anyways.

I made a beeline for the car and got the fuck out of there.

I wasn't three miles away when he messaged me on Recon when I'd be coming back.  I was driving, but thought about spelling out NEVER. I just kept driving.

Telling this story to a sex-like buddy, he confirmed I put myself in harms way. And going forward, we would use each other for providing locations of where we are case.

To get one jab in to this loser - I did message him back, since he said nothing I could say or do would hurt him. I told him he needed to stop doing met and see a dentist and periodontist immediately, as his breath was like death.

Oddly, I didn't get a response.

So, this is my cautionary tale.  Or as it was put to me, my 'cautionary tail'.   ...though this guy didn't get near my tail.

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Repeat Offender

"Let me look at the pussy that I'm going to eat".

So said the man with the magic tongue.

Another cold night. Another itch at my hole that I needed licked.  And scratched.  Of course by 'scratched', I mean fucked.  Hard.

But for now, I was on the back of his bed, my legs spread and pulled back. Exposing my hairy pucker for the man who was just standing there - looking. Admiring. Waiting. Contemplating.

Then he went to his knees, his face in front of that hole. My hole. His and for the moment.

His magic was still apparent. The second go-around was just as intense as that first time. That tongue - and maybe just a light brushing of fingers?  - was fucking beautiful to my ass.  His ass - for the moment. He was the maestro. I was his instrument.   ....though he would use his baton on me shortly.

I think he was down there for 10 minutes. I would have been happy if I didn't get fucked (ok - that might be a lie) and he just stayed down there for my entire visit.

I have never known such oral pleasure as this. At least on the receiving end.

But we both know I liked that eating out, but that's not what I was there for. That's not what he invited me over for.

He had 7.5" that needed taken care of, and not with my mouth.

No - he wanted hole. My hole. My ass.

While he lubed himself up, he slowly and deliberately stroked his cock hard.

"Play with yourself for me".  I went to reach for my dick and he said. "no........down there....."

Like a 16 yo girl in the back seat of the quarterback's car, I took two fingers and rubber them over my asshole. I teased the hole, the lips. I rubbed it as if I had a clit.  All the while looking right at him as he looked right at my hand / ass action.

He was bone hard now.

He stepped closer.  No words, I moved my hand. He pushed deep hard push, right to the bottom.

I groaned, naturally. I mean, I was being filled up with a decent sized cock - and all at once. But it was a good groan. It was a good way to be filled - a right way. He'd been here before, he knew what he could do, or better yet, what he thought he could do.

He went right away to pumping. There was no rest for me. No acclimation period. He wanted to fuck and he was going to.  But I wanted to be fucked, so it worked out for both of us.

The guy is good with his dick. Not quite as good as he is with his tongue, but those are two very different instruments.  Yet, he's skilled - whether he cared if I liked it or not.

He seems to care about if I'm enjoying myself, until, well you know, he gets closer to cumming. Then just like every other guy in the history of man, it is all about himself.  And I am TOTALLY on board with that.

I'd say the fuck lasted 15 minutes. Me on my back the entire time as he sawed in and out of me. I loved seeing his face as he got close.  There was that look for fighting the impending orgasm or just letting it go and finishing.

The finishing won out.  He buried his bone and let loose his hot load up my ass.

It was a good go-round. I just need go get over there again.  He has me won over with that tongue of his.

...and his cock.

Monday, March 10, 2014

Fattest Cock Ever.

I'll give him this - it was possibly the fattest cock I've ever had the 'pleasure" to meet.

Maybe not beer can thick - is any cock really beer can thick?  But maybe slightly bigger around than a Red Bull.

His Manhunt ad was too vague and I was to enthralled with the 8.5" x 7" description to ask more questions.

52 years of age isn't archaic. Hell, that whole myth of men peaking sexually at 19 is so fucked up. I find the 50 year olds really know what they're doing, really want it and have great cocks.

But if this guy was 52, then I was 22. I'm guessing closer to 65 he was. Where others lie about the inches on their cock, he fibbed about how tall he was, being at least 4-6" shorter than he said. No big deal if his weight had been accurate too. '

I should have known. He was too eager to drive 45 minutes to me to get sucked.

When will I ever fucking learn?

But he was here, so I let him in.

Another guy who insists on completely stripping down for a fucking blowjob. Your shirts can stay on people. Especially if you haven't seen the gym or sun in three decades.

That all said, it was possibly the fattest cock I've ever been presented with.  And it was way bigger in person than in this pic.

The cock was advertised as 8.5", but probably closer to 8.  It didn't matter - the thing was so fat, head to base, I wasn't getting it all in my mouth anyways (though I can usually deep throat 8.5").

In actuality, I didn't get more than a little than half-way down his shaft.  My lips were stretched to capacity.  I worked it. I worked that shaft hard - really trying not to look anywhere but the cock, because, well........he was less than desirable.

It is the problem with being driven by sex - the rest of your choices can be compromised. Like now.

Oddly, I don't know how he felt. Or what it takes to get him off. Maybe years of folks trying you find ways to get to the finish line.

I didn't think I was even doing an admirable job let along a good one, and certainly not a long one - maybe 10 minutes - and he shot a decent, but not great load. No flavor.

I hustled the man out the door.  A day later, I got a message, "did you enjoy that?".

I'm thinking my silence spoke volumes.

Tuesday, March 04, 2014

Hung. Black. Anonymous.

I don't know his name.  I don't have his email.  I don't know his phone number.  I know what kind of car he drives, only because I've seen it pull up and park on the street outside the house.

But he answered a CL ad I placed. He called me,  but through a blocked line. We've never exchanged introductions.  Just body fluids.  And to clarify - he's exchanged those into me, not the other way around.

He's not ugly, but not handsome either. He's about 5'9", 180 with a slight belly. I like it when he keeps his slightly tinted glasses on and his hat. When I asked on the phone what his cock was like, he laughed a bit and said, "it's nice enough".

But he's hung. Massively hung.  And thick.

That is him after he had already cum.....and went soft.

He showed up on time, which you wouldn't think is such a big deal, but to me it is. I hate waiting around for guys who claim they're "on the way".   He comes in takes off his shoes and strips off his coat and pants, and nothing more.  Well, his underwear.

He wasn't this "small" when he took off his pants, as he was  - or his cock was - in the stages of being excited. As was I.

As it would turn out he has this way of being nice, but being dirty at the same time.  It's hard to explain. Perhaps it's they way he'd lightly chuckle at things he'd say or that I'd say or do. He say things nicely, but if you thought about it, they were not questions but more of commands or statement of facts. Cutting to your core in certain ways.  It was kind of hot.

"You like to suck cock".

Normally, I'd answer with a "yes Sir", but this didn't warrant an answer. He was telling me. He knew.

Of course, I had a 9.5" fat fucking black cock almost all the way down my throat - he could have just been stating the obvious. He wasn't going out on any limbs exactly, and it was clear this wasn't my first time with a dick in my mouth.

But when I'd come up for air, it was hard not to just handle it, look at it, admire it.  The penis really is a great work of art - and some are clearly better than others.

I told him he undersold himself with the "nice enough" comment - and he replied, "did I lie?"  He did not.

But he wanted to see me stick something in my ass.  I had to find a butt plug, which then I greased it up and slid it in as he watched from behind.  He had me do it while I was on my knees facing away from him. I think he liked the show.

It was a plug and not a dildo, so it was harder to fuck myself with it, though I did....because he wanted me to.

I was to keep that plug in while I sucked him too.  On my knees.  And then laying back on the bed with him kneeling over me.

As you might expect, he move up a soon his balls were at my nose....than at my mouth.  And then it was his ass.

He didn't ask. He's not the kind to ask. He expects.  Silent assumptions.

I dove in.  To me, it was clear he had just come from work, but his ass was fresh. I ate it like a pro...not just because I wanted him to like it, but because I love eating ass.

He isn't one to moan or tell you it feels good what you're doing. But he was rock hard and stroking, so I took that as a sign I was doing my job well.

He back up again and shoved his cock down my throat and gave it a dozen pumps before I felt the hot seed sliding over my tongue and down my throat.  At that angle, it was impossible not to go down into my belly, but it is not like it wasn't going to end up there anyways.

He pulled out, stood up and looked back at me, admiring his work, I suppose.

He put on his pants, and shoes and headed to the door.

"When I call and say 'you know who this is', you'll know who it is, right?"    I confirmed.

He called the next day.