Cigarman Chris - another tale

FYI - this story is pre-Covid-19. 


Chris (whom you've read last about here - as well as in several other entries) had been on the road, and when he wasn’t, our schedules never matched up. He was down for another play session, but wanted to play outside. That meant my place. As you know by now, part of the yard is not visible to most – at least when it’s not late fall or winter.

I had texted the Nerd about an hour prior to that it was a ‘go'. I wash hoping he could take off for lunch, he’d know the exact spot where he could find us, as he had fucked me made a deposit about 18 hours before. I also told Chris upon his arrival. He was intrigued. I didn’t want anyone totally surprised or displeased. And I know it’s supposed to be about Chris for this go-round, but I’ll admit to being selfish and that I wanted it to be about me. I would and could pretend otherwise to the tops, but I’d know the truth.

Chris did arrive. And he wanted me naked. So I was. He came around the corner, the cigar already lit triple maduro. I don’t know much about cigars, but I know it’s darker and has a heavier odor. Even a novice can figure that out just with his nose and eyes. We had discussed whether to light up in front of me, which can be hot, or already lit, which also has its benefits in hotness. He made the choice.

He ran his hand over my body. Assessing me. His shoes came off, as did his pants. Then his shirt. His hat and sunglasses stayed on. I love his tinted sunglasses. I can never see his eyes. It makes him hard to read – what he’s thinking or feeling. It keeps me on edge. It’s a turn-on for me.

”Suck me”, says he. So I do. On my knees in the grass, looking up at him, his head tilted back a little, enjoying the mouth and his cigar. He’s kind of in his own world, at least momentarily. We’ve discussed before how few people he can come to for this kind of thing. The guys who say they’re into cigars fade away for him when he actually lights up. When / If you add piss to the mix, it usually becomes a hard pass.

While setting this up, I thought it might not happen. He was meeting a guy for drinks who seemed ok with everything he was into. Totally selfish here: if he meets someone like that, my chances with him wither away or completely go away. I asked if he thought he’d do what I do for him – because, I’m all about needing the validation, remember – and he comes back easily, “no one is piggier than you.” Ok, it’s not the validation every man might seek, but it worked for me.

Chris pushes me away with the palm of his hand. I know to stay still. Then it starts. I’d say a ‘gold stream’, but like usual, it is clear as tap water. But it was warm and it was plenty. He aimed for my chest and then directed the stream upwards. My neck. My lips. My extended tongue. My face. My head. I leaned into it. It ran off my head down my shoulders and back. He was marking me with his piss. Again.

While it was not my intention, this session ended up being way more about piss than sucking cock. Sure, there was that. Sure, there was cigar play – though this time he did NOT burn me, so………..yay! There was less verbal, which was a shame.

I did love, he kept looking around, seeing if the Nerd was going to come around the corner. He was actually looking forward to that, as was I. It never did happen, but we both liked the anticipation.

Last time there were three rounds of piss play. It doubled this time. He had no shortage of piss. Honestly, I have no idea how much he drank or his capacity to hold it. I’m not built that way. But I was braver than before. The talk the evening before with the Nerd kind of emboldened me. There were any number of times Chris was pissing and I just leaned up and wrapped my lips around the head of his cock.

I drank from the tap – the most willing time I had done so. There was no flavor, and there was no gagging. There never seemed to be tons of it. He’d explain this later – whenever he put it in my mouth (or I did, actually), he stopped pissing. It was involuntary. He couldn’t explain it. But if out of my mouth the flow started again.

”Lie on your back!”, he semi-barked. I did. On the grass. In the dirt. Looking up at him as he pissed on me. “Faggot” came out of his mouth. It would be the only degradation I’d get that day. But it was heartfelt and hard to argue. I’m laying back while a man with a cigar in his mouth stands over me and pisses all over my body.

The cigar was getting lower. The ring had been taken off. I knew he’d have to wrap things up soon. I got on my knees and sucked. He pulled out and jacked……….this time in my mouth. Taking his load in, he looked down at me and spit on my face. In my eye. On my nose. It was viscous. It was tobacco. It reeked of a strong cigar. It made me hard.

I assumed we were done. I was wrong.

“Jack off on me”. He knelt. I was hard, so I did. I wasn’t about to deny this man. It was a good sized load. But he stood up and scooped it off his hairy body and fed me. Fingers full of my own cum, into my own mouth. I hate it greedily.

Now I assumed we were done, but he had one more gob of spit for my face while I stood in front of him. 

NOW we were done.


.......at least until next time.