Monday, August 25, 2014

Tennis 1

He was in town for a tennis tournament. But he was also on Manhunt.

I think all those rules about not having sex before a big game / tournament are a load of crap, but I'm not a seasoned athlete, so what do I know.

I do know that men have needs, and he was clearly in need, as he was actively on Manhunt looking at my profile. And then contacting me.

52, 6'3", maybe 7", athletic build, but not as much as you'd think for a tennis guy entering national and international tourneys. And "safer only" was also in his profile.

Clearly, his intentions were to breed me. He made that clear. So I'm never sure if the 'safer only' is just to lure more guys in or expand possibilities. It's not like he asked me if I would take it bare. He assumed, he planned, he expected.

The guy was decent. He immediately stripped down to bright orange Under Armor compression shorts. Somehow, they worked for him. I wanted to gnaw on them, making them wet. Hell, I wanted to gnaw THROUGH them, as he was sporting full wood. But I also knew he was leaving when we were done to play a match and I know how much Under Armor costs. So I was nice.

He was 7", like I said, so taking him down to his short hairs was no real problem. He seemed to like my mouth. He made the appropriate noises and said the correct dirty words, muttering them just over his breath instead out loud.

But we weren't there for my mouth.

Soon, I had lubed up his cock, stroking him nice and sensually. It made him even more rigid.

I bent over and he slid it in - all the way home. But he wasn't comfortable with that position for long. Soon I was on my back, holding my own legs while he found the target.

And find it he did. No easing in, he just went balls-deep. He fucked ok, but nothing spectacular. His dirty mouth talked a good game, before and even during. Without that constant pseudo-filth, I'm not sure it would have been hot at all, but he made it work.

You could see him starting to tense up, knowing he was getting close. And then he was there.

There was nothing earth-shattering about his style or cock. He was just a man from out of town, and in need.  I was there to help.

He talked about returning the next day before his doubles match, but I never heard back from him.

That wasn't a problem. Turns out there were other tennis guys who needed assistance too.

Sunday, August 17, 2014


He was in town to compete. He was on Scruff. Many of the athletes were. That's ok - new town. New guys. One's they'd never see again, or want to, most likely.

He was attentive to me. Lots of messages. The pics looked nice. 5'8", 190. Seemed heavy for someone that short, and he was, to a degree. Not sure how he did his routines, but this wasn't professional sports. Nor did I really care all that much. 

Cropped hair, and what he had was turning grey, though not completely there. This is what he looked liked soft.

He asked me to stop by his hotel room and I knock at the appointed time. Several times. I finally gave up and want outside and texted him a few times to no avail. On a chance, I go up once more, knock a few times again - nothing. So I leave.

I should just leave in the first place, no only out of some sort of self-respect, but as soon as you make up your mind and leave, the flake or pseudo-flake will get back with you. It's like they know you're leaving and try to reel you back in.

I was about 7 blocks away when I turned around and went back because he messaged me saying he fell asleep.  Ugh!  I'm not sure if that excuse was lame, or me turning around and going back that was more pathetic. Yet, back I went.

It was clear, I liked his dick more than him. He clearly had time to get high after he "work up" but before I got back there. Because, pot-breath is SO attractive on a guy.  Not.

Since I wasn't really wanting time to know him, my hands went to his nylon shorts and felt his hardening dick through them. I wasted little time getting those down too, as I went to my knees for a little foreplay.

But sucking cock was not what this visit was about. It wasn't said in our text interactions, but the subtext was ass-fucking. Him to me.

We started with me on the edge of the bed, facing away from him, my head and shoulders to the mattress. He pushed that rod against me and my hole opened accordingly. Soon - very soon - he was balls deep. I could feel every inch of black dick inside of me.

He ended up having a good rhythm and eventually fucked me nice and hard - but in that good way. I'd say he went a good 20 minutes just pumping my hole before getting me on my back.

He told me how the people on his gymnastics / cheering team were hoping he'd get laid, as he was getting cranky and pressing them too hard on things and that he needed to relax. He said he really needed this fuck.

There was only about five minutes of time, on my back, when his respirations shallowed and his eyes glazed over and not just from the pot. With a groan, his eyes closed and he shot off deep into me.

This guy was not one for pulling out either. He liked to "dangle", as he called it. Leaving his cock in there. I was ok with that in theory.

While dangling, I could feel him soften, but remain in. He also was asking questions about what else sexually I liked or things that turned me on. While we just chatted about that, he no longer softened, but began to stiffen again.

Before I knew it, I was on my side with him behind me and he pummeled my ass. In another 10 minutes, I was getting an additional load shot into my gut.

I have not had a two-fer in a while and it felt good. He might have needed to unleash, but I needed what he gave just as much. He might not have been the ideal guy, but it was a necessary evil.

He was hoping to see me again during the week he was here, but many others were in town and I rather explore my options, unless nothing else panned out.

I slipped on my nylon shorts and t-shirt and was heading back down to the lobby in just a few minutes. Loads firmly intact. 

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

A Knock at the Door

I had a repeat encounter, plus one.

The repeat guy was in town for the Gay Games. I knew he was coming, but I knew he'd be busy doing things associated with the Games (though he's not actually working for them).

The repeat guy is rough. If you read here, you'll see how he manhandled me last time. He tried pimping me out from afar, but it never worked. It almost never does. If ever.

But between both our work times, family conflicts, our separate times at the Games, and his limited time in town, the plan of getting together was narrowed down to a one hour timeframe. 60 minutes. That was it.

Honestly, that was enough for me. I knew what that hour would bring - spit on my face (check), punches to the chest and abs (check and check), pulling my balls hard (check), slapping my ass (check), force feeding me his cock until I choked and gagged (check!).  I don't mind any of that at all, but prolonged exposure can make a man sore.

I knocked on room 1202 and was let in quickly. Him in a wife-beater and black briefs, he immediately pulled to me to my knees and told me to strip. Off came my clothing.

I was smacked across the face promptly. He was re-establishing his dominance and it was the right thing to do. While we had not had an encounter in 10 months he asserted his alpha-behavior. He followed that with a number of chest and gut punches and yes, even some rough nipple play.

While you know I like my nips played with, doing anything severe to them doesn't excite me - it just make my nipples bigger, which honestly, I don't care for. I don't like the look or feel, but it's kind of the price one gets for having your tits manipulated.

During this, he mentioned something about not playing at all since he was in town because he doesn't like to mix work-life with sex-life but since I was a known entity and not really part of the Games, he felt it was ok.

Stripping off his briefs, he shoved me down on his cock. It wasn't hard when we started, but it didn't take much to get him fully erect. And soon, I was gasping for air as he repeatedly rammed it down my throat, making my eyes water a bit, and spit come out the sides of my mouth.

I am a skilled oralist, but his style made me feel not just out of control, but lesser of a talent than I am with my mouth. He wasn't looking for skill. He wanted me to gag. He wanted me to cough up spit - he got his wish.

He turned around and presented me his ass. It was an ass as smooth as a child....I'm assuming. The hole was clean. Almost too clean. This guy presents as a nice, clean individual, but it's always the affable looking guys who are the nastiest, aren't they? I was skilled here, not that he'd ever tell me. During - he never makes a peep...or barely. Why won't guys be vocal?

I ate for a good 10 minutes and he turned around. I didn't mean harm in starting to protest 'no', as I wanted to continue. That almost protest cost me.

I got a slap upside the head and then a foot down on the face. He pinned my face under his foot and grabbed his camera. He claims to only have joked about taking a pic, but there is a good chance he has that image on his phone.

He picked me up and threw me against the wall. One hand at the back of my neck, his body pressing into me. I knew he wouldn't fuck me. I would have gladly taken it, but that is not his style. He really likes to "know" someone before he penetrates them. Two times in 10 months is not knowing me. But while there, he told me never to talk back to him.

And then he let me eat his hole again.  So, I kind of won.

He had me crawl on all fours over to a chair. While there and sucking his cock, he assembled his electronics on my back and got them ready for packing, as he was to check out as soon as we were done.

....and then there was a knock at the door.

He got up to check the door.  I kind of hid next to the bed, assuming since he had not hooked up on this trip that it was a work colleague. And no, I wasn't really thinking, as he went and opened the door with no pants on and a 7" erection leading the way.

He led guy #2 into the room. Handsome, hairy as fuck, he quickly shed his clothes and I went back to sucking the first guy's cock. Soon I was pushed on to the new guy's dick.

Another 7", but fat. Beautifully straight shaft, I went down on him and this guy did let me use my skill. And he was fucking vocal about it too. I may have fell in love a little bit right there. I worked on him for 2-3 minutes when he pushed me off. I think I got him too close.

I was taken back to #1, who was slapping me in the face as I sucked. I don't know if this turned on or weirded-out guy #2, but I had to figure they had a conversation about me and the new guy knew I was going to be there and for what.

As it turns out, he was a player for a water polo team that was playing in the games.

When I went back to him, sucking expertly, my original guy went behind me and started smacking my ass hard. I can't say for sure what got guy #2 off, but he held my head and pumped a load into my mouth. Thick, but not a lot of cum. I didn't care that much.  I showed him the load, then took his hand to my throat and made him grip it. I swallowed...he felt me swallow. Then I showed him my empty mouth.

I was told to nurse it and I did for almost as long as the blowjob itself, as I got smacked around. Finally the water polo guy pulled back and dressed thanking guy #1, but not me.

Guy 1 said, "he's here to welcome all athletes this week. contact him and he'll do anything you want - won't you fag?". I looked at the new guy and said 'anything you want'.

He nodded and left.

My original visitor pulled me back to the bed. My ass was still on the floor and my head tilted back onto the bed. He straddled my torso and held my throat tight.

I know he could have really choked me like that with little recourse from me, but I trusted him enough.

Instead he let go and went through my pockets and took my phone. Came back...and inserted his cock into my throat.

It only took a few more minutes, but then he finally made a little noise as his cock erupted into my mouth. This sperm was thick and plentiful. At the angle he had me, the spooge hit the roof of my mouth and congregated right behind the head of his dick....trapped almost.

No worries, I swallowed all of it. I tried to milk more out, but unlike most guys who has a drop or two left when you squeeze the shaft, this man was dry. I had gotten it all on the first take.

I dressed, he packed. He showed me to the door. One good palm across the cheek for good measure and I was out the door.

....but here is hoping that water polo guy (and his whole team) contact me.

Friday, August 08, 2014

Black Boned

It was supposed to be a blowjob.

The return of the hot-dicked black man was unexpected, though not unwelcomed. It had to be a blowjob because he gave me almost zero lead time. Not enough to prep for anything more than using my mouth.

I guess, if he'd been on time or accurate as to when he would arrive, I'd have had time. When he was almost 40 minutes late, I had pretty much given up. Still that additional time would have give me a chance know, clean out if needed. But our conversation was about getting head only. Him getting, that is. Me giving.

Unfortunately, by the time he did finally arrive, it impeded on a work call I had to take and told him that we'd have to be quick.

He dropped his pants. I dropped to my knees.

Actually, before I dropped there, I played with his meaty cock. It's bigger soft then most men when they are hard. It is thick. It has heft. I'd take it in one hand and let it drop into the other palm. And it would do so with a least for awhile.

After a few times, it started stiffening and didn't drop as much, since it was on the rise.

And that is when I went to my knees.

It had been a long time, so I had forgotten how big it gets. He says 9"....and it is close for sure, but it is the girth that throws me. I want so badly to get it all down my throat, but as skilled as I am (or think I am), that will be a tough tough one.

I was loving sucking him but never get the sense he enjoys it, other than his hard cock. He is so quiet in his way, that I get no reaction at all - good or bad. But he doesn't pull away or leave, so I'm taking it as a win.

I was sucking him for about 10 minutes when he told me to stand up. I did and he bent me over the desk.

I started to tell him I wasn't prepared for that but it was basically too late. He pushed 3 fat inches into my ass and then kept going, albeit a little slower.  No poppers (I'm trying to wean myself off those), not that I had any handy anyways. Or lube - other than his and my spit.

Breathing is the trick, boys. More than poppers, more than being prepped mentally. It's all about the breathing.

"This is the only way it's going to happen with our short time" and that was all he said. Again, no words, no grunts, groans or moans. He went back to silent running.

Pumping me into the desk. Pumping his shaft into my hole. It went on for only less than 10 minutes. He did have a big exhale and I knew he was coming. Besides the fact that I could feel it.

In two minutes, he was cleaned off, pants on and out the door.

...until next time, that is.

But I'm not sure that was a blowjob.   :-)

Monday, August 04, 2014

Piss & Moan

"Open your mouth, but don't suck".  Those were his first words to me.

I returned to the house where 'FAG' was scrawled on my cock. The house of nudists. Three gay, one straight - somehow living in harmony.

This time, I knew I wouldn't be in the house, but on the front porch - in broad daylight. The set-up is deceiving. From the porch, it looks like everyone can see everything. Even from the street it looks that way, until you've been on the porch and in retrospect so much is not visible you could do many things out there.

Still, I was ordered to strip at the door - outside - where someone passing by might get a quick glimpse of me, but that is it. Timing would have to be just right for that, let alone looking in my very specific direction.

He was in a light robe, sitting at a table with a pitcher of water, his glass and laptop, working outside on a sunny day. And he needed head.

I was stripped, on my knees on the cement, with my mouth open and not sucking. I kind of knew what was going to happen.

The piss came slowly at first and I thought to myself, "I can do this".  But that's the problem: I thought. I thought too much about the act. About what is going on. About what "it" is.

I don't get it. I am happy - no, elated - to drink a man's scum and to lick his ass, but I have a hang-up about piss?

While clearly not a connoisseur, I knew enough that he had been drinking water enough of the day that there wasn't tons of taste to it, and that it was probably running very clear with little yellow in the stream.

I will pride myself on that I got a full mouthful and a gulp and another mouthful before I non-verbally communicated that I was at my limit. Not that we had ever really talked about me taking (or not taking) his piss. He respected my wishes and discontinued the act.

He offered me a glass of water several times, with me declining each time. If I couldn't take the entire piss-load, I wanted him to know I wasn't washing his taste out too. I wanted to be respectful as well. And like in that last post where he said he wanted to push my limits, this was another step.

He went inside to finish dumping his bladder in the traditional way (at least I assumed it was that way) and he came back out, robe still open, me still on my knees. Ready to serve.

And like last time, I did.

Is it bragging if it's true?  I mean, I did an exceptional job with my mouth. Part to make him feel good. Part to make him eventually get off. Part to make-up for the fact that I fear I failed in not taking all his piss. And even though I know I couldn't be seen, I was hyper-excited to be doing this outdoors.

I could tell by his level of engagement and the stiffness of his cock that I was doing all the right things for him. I was sucking, and edging him. I wanted to build up that load. I wanted to make him really want to cum. Sure, he always had the ability to shoot when he wanted, but I had to get him to a place where he was past the point of rescue and total lust took over.

It was about then I heard the front door open and close. I knew enough not to look up and kept working on the cock in front of me. Clearly it was one of his roommates and I was being talked about - like how good of a job I was doing and how he could use me anytime he wanted......and insinuated that it could be now.  I heard the word "thanks", but didn't hear the rest. The door opened and closed again without me ever seeing the gent.

My feeder told me before that the two gay nudists will use his cocksuckers, but the straight one only uses them as urinals. Now to me, that just sounded a little odd. Not just that a straight dude would live with three gay nude dudes, but that of all the 'sex' acts, that a straight guy would be less into getting head than pissing in a guy's mouth.

To each his own, I guess.

I was pushed off the cock for the guy to show me his iPhone. On it he had a spreadsheet of eight cocksuckers who were servicing him. Each with a number of times the eater had serviced him. I was tied in 4th place, including that current blowjob. In theory, it wouldn't take much to put me at number one (I'd have to get up to 9 head-jobs in), but coordinating our schedules is more difficult than I'd like. So it might take me a while.

I probably stepped over a line when saying, 'well that rates quantity, not quality....', figuring I might have the upper hand there.  It was then he pulled out his pen, again, and wrote 'FAG', on my cock...again.

....and then I went back to sucking.

When he did cum, he shot a lot and of course I took it. I took it without an issue, unlike his piss. I happily and greedily swallowed it all. Is that weird?

I was satisfied. He was satisfied. He said I would be back.

Here's hoping I am. Soon.