Saturday at the Baths: Cleveland

I found a text on my phone, after the Italiano left my room on Saturday, from the Cleveland guy whom I was supposed to meet at the baths. He’d arrived, he told me; he was going to spend a little time in the bathroom making sure he was totally clean before joining me. I’d already texted him with my room number. All I had to do was wait for him to join me.

I sat on my bed in a casual pose, one knee up, the other out to the side, my dick in my left hand while my right rested on my upraised leg. I’d managed to score one of the rare rooms with a view of one of the busiest intersections of corridors , where I was able to watch guys coming and going as they cruised each other. I politely batted away several guys who wanted to come in and join me, explaining that I was waiting for a friend.

I’d just reached the edge of wondering if the guy was ever going to show when from the far corridor I saw a guy approaching. I knew it was him by the build, which was broad and beefy. In his black muscle tank top and his black jock, and his black baseball cap turned with the brim in the rear, the guy was even more of a stud than his photos had led me to believe—and his photos had been already pretty damned hot. He walked straight for my door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him.

“Hey there,” he said in a deep and masculine voice. He stared at my dick, which was stiff and pointing at him from between my legs. “Sorry it took me so long.”

When I was looking Cleveland up and down right then, I would’ve forgiven him just about anything. He looked so fucking sexy—so primed and ready for dick. I wasn’t surprised, when he went down on one knee, that he proceeded to give me the best head I’d had in some time. His mouth was wide and accommodating, his big lips soft. I didn’t feel teeth, or bone, or even the constriction of muscle and sinew. Just soft, wet flesh that seemed to slick up and cling to every pore, as his lips gently hugged my dick’s base. He took off his cap and placed it on my bedside table. It afforded me the luxury of running my palms over the soft stubble that was his closely-cropped hair.

“Shit,” I said, when I backed him off so that I could pull him up onto the mattress with me. “That mouth is incredible.”

“You think so?” he asked, diving once more for my meat. “Wait until you try my cunt, then.”

After sucking me for a while more, he moved up between my legs and began to make out with me. In a word: amazing. The guy was an incredible kisser. His mouth as as wet and fleshy on my own as it had been around my dick. He wanted more of my meat, though, so I let him maneuver himself so that he was sitting on my face as he slobbered down on my pole.

The guy’s ass had been what attracted me to him. In his BBRT profile, it’s raised and spread and presented to be the first thing you see. It was hairy, and beefy, and perfect in shape; the elastic of the black jock framed it perfectly as he lowered his hole onto my mouth and wriggled it around. I dove inside, savoring the essentially male scent of his butt and relishing the way his ass hairs tugged against my beard as I raked it along the most private cleft of his body. His hole twitched and opened when I licked at it. It didn’t take long until it opened completely and my tongue made contact with the tangy, metallic-tasting innermost recesses of his hole.

I had to have him. I got him onto his knees and let him suck on me to get my dick extra-juicy. Then I pushed at and into his hole, sliding in with minimum resistance. The contact between us was almost electrical; I could feel almost every minor muscular adjustment he made, as well as how, soon after my entry, his hole began grasping at my meat as if to pull it in further. “Fuck,” I whispered, almost as if I were praying. “You were right about how good your cunt is.”

“Tell your friends,” he said, the very spirit of generosity. “Advertise me to your readers. Put a link in to my profile. Let them know how good I am.”

“Yeah?” I said, increasing the speed of my fucking. “Are you going to tell them what a good cock I’ve got?”

“I love your cock, man,” he said. “It’s fucking perfect. Hot, responsive dick. Fuck. Fuck me.”

I did, slowly building on my tempo and thrusting until I was close. “Let go of it,” he urged. “Come on, pump it in. Give to to me, buddy. Give it all to me.”

When I came, it was with what felt like a fire hose gush. I know my dick throbbed and let loose its load in several spurts, but I really only felt the massive first; the others paled in comparison. His hole milked the last few drops from me. He grunted his satisfaction. “Let me clean you off,” he said at last. I let him slobber all over my meat with his amazing mouth. “You’re still hard,” he noted.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “I’m not done.”

“You’ve got another load for me?”

“Hell yes. And I’ll fuck you in any other load you collect today. Just bring it to me and I’ll slide my dick inside.”

Hungrily he kissed me, then stared at me with his dark eyes. “You want to pimp me out, huh?”

To show him I did, I stood up for a moment, opened the door to my room wide, and sat back down. “Suck it,” I commanded him.

What followed were an uncomfortable few minutes, to be honest. Usually on a good, busy day at the baths, all it takes to get a little group action started is to have sex in front of the other guys. Men will mill around and stare at each other for the longest time, but once there’s a catalyst of sex, it’ll start a chain reaction that involves multiple dicks, mouths, and holes. Usually I am that catalyst.

Not so much Saturday, though. For the longest time I reclined against the wall with my legs spread while Cleveland lay face-down between them, deep-throating my dick. Guys passed by. They’d peek in, then scamper away as if they were woodland fawns who’d spotted a couple of hunters, guns cocked, behind a poorly-hidden blind. One older, out-of-shape guy walked in, flipped on the light without asking, and then stalked away as if offended.

Flipping the light seemed to be the theme of that abortive part of the afternoon. Though the light level in my room was the same as the rest of the bathhouse, guys kept coming in to flip on the light. Never mind that it wasn’t even their room. They just felt they had the right to do it. When I stood up and began fucking Cleveland again from behind, as he knelt on the edge of the bed with his hands against the wall, I actually slapped away some guy’s hand as it reached for the switch.

After the second fuck, I was back down on the bed with Cleveland cleaning me off when a guy walked right into the room, turned on the light, and shoved his dick in my face. I tried pointing it at Cleveland—there was an actual bottom there who was looking to service dicks, you know—but he wasn’t having any of it. “You want to fuck me?” he asked.

The guy wasn’t bad looking—in his forties or early fifties, silver-haired, and lean—but something about his manner was off-putting. Cleveland, annoyed, lifted his mouth from my dick and said, “He’s just finished fucking me.”

“I’m looking for guys to fuck my bottom,” I told the man.

“Yeah?” He aimed his dick at Cleveland’s mouth, which opened and obediently closed around it.
Almost immediately, Cleveland opened his mouth again. “Dude, you taste bad,” he growled in his deep voice. “Have you got lube or something on it?”

“No,” said the twitchy guy. “There’s no lube on it.”

Cleveland shook his head. “No offense, man, but you just taste bad.”

“Maybe there’s lube on it or something,” said the man, contradicting what he’d said only a moment before. “Do you guys smoke?”

We said that no, we didn’t, and finally the guy flipped out the light and left. Cleveland raised himself to a sitting position. “Well, at least one good thing came out of that,” he told me. “Now I know I would’ve fucked with you even with the lights on.”

I thought about that one for a moment, decided it was a compliment, and decided to take it.

After the sour dick incident, Cleveland had to go rinse out his mouth and have a smoke. He came back a few minutes later to report that the weird guy had chased him around the bathhouse. “I think he was the one spying on me when I was trying to clean out when I got here,” he said. “He was trying to peek around the back of the partition. Freaky.”

“I think he’s tweaking,” I said.

“Yeah, no shit,” said Cleveland.

We fucked one more time—with the doors closed. Cleveland straddled my pelvis and lowered himself on my dick, then rode me hard until I shot suddenly inside him. We made out some more, and he cleaned me off again. We got him off by making out while he masturbated, and then after a long and dozy period in which we lay side-by-side on the bed and held each other, realized it was seven-thirty and that we both had to get going.

“Damn,” he said, as he was collecting his things. “I’ve had guys shoot twice in me before, but never three times.”

“Just kind of the way I am with an ass I really like,” I told him. “I hope it was worth the drive.”

“Oh fuck yeah,” he said, giving my dick an affectionate squeeze. “Oh fuck, yeah!”

(A note: For those of you on BBRT, the guy's listed as trancendntl. You Ohio men seriously owe it to yourselves to give him a try.)

Saturday at the Baths: Italiano

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Our Far-Flung Correspondents: FelchingPisser Does CLAW, Part II

A note from FelchingPisser: Here is the next installment of my time at CLAW. It picks up immediately after I had just gotten off with the Muscle God—and his boyfriend had cleaned my cock—and I stumbled out to my car after five hours of group sex...

Saturday -- 5:00am

I fumble with the key card to the parking structure. I’ve had spotty luck with it at best of times and now I’m beat. I have had way more sex in the last five hours than I likely should. I manage to slide the card down the sensor at the correct speed. The gate raises….and there is Muscle God and his Boyfriend coming out. I wave. I park. I catch up with them in the lobby of the hotel. We ride up the elevator--all with contented smiles on our faces. I can only think about my load in this hot guy’s hot hole. I get off on the third floor--making some comment about them giving me a call if they ever want to see my sling/rimseat set up.

“What room number?”

“314. Good night.”

I stumble into my room. I manage to unzip the chaps. The hotel phone rings. It’s Muscle God….”Were you serious?”

“Wha--?”

“About coming down to get fucked.”

“In the morning, yes. Well it’s morning now--but I’d be up for it by the afternoon.”

“Great.” He hangs up and I roll into bed, pull the leather blindfold on to block the soon to be rising sun and drift away in happy contentment with the smell of so much ass in my beard.

I sleep five hours or so. Grab breakfast quickly before the Hampton puts the buffet away, a little more sleep and then a shower. Christ, I’m sticky. Fully awake now, I log onto BBRT. Bingo. One of the guys who wanted me back on Wednesday when I was 137 miles away.

We chat and agree to meet at the Vendor’s Mart. I walk over to the main hotel. Once again I tour the various booths. And wait. And wait. I text him. Nothing back. I decide I’m stood up and head home. Smelling all that leather has made me hungry…

I get on BBRT. I recognize a tattooed shoulder---why, it’s Muscle God…two messages back and forth and he’s at my door.

“I’m just gonna tell the Boyfriend that I happened to catch you in.”

Whatever. I want back in this ass. He is soon down to nothing but a bulging jock. We kiss, massage, suck. Before you know it he’s panting on the bed, on all fours and my hard cock is slapping on his hole. I enter. Inch by half inch. He has great control. He can tighten down with each move of mine. It seems like it takes forever to get all the way in, but soon my overgrown pubes are grinding against his muscle ass. I pick up the tempo.

“Pound me.” I start to do just that. “Fuck my hole, man.” I continue to slam it home. His grasping hole could actually take me over the edge in no time. I slow. There is so much more I want to do. I pull slowly out of his hole. He spins around to taste my cock and sighs.

“I want to taste it. Over here.” I take a major hit of poppers and get under the rimseat. He sits. The seat spreads his hole open so that my tongue is instantly deeper than I’ve been in him so far. He’s huffing poppers and becoming quite vocal. My cock has now reached the ‘it’s so hard it’s painful stage’ as I stroke and eat his hole. Tongue plunging, beard grinding, my lips seal around the lips of his hole. My heart rate slows and I have that sweet moment that feels like I might suffocate. I hold it for a long moment--than tap both his thighs to tell him to get up.

He jumps in the sling, needing no direction from me. I get up and enter him in one long thrust. He is producing massive amounts of lube which has mixed with my spit. It’s an energetic fuck. The chains start to rattle. And there’s the sweet sound of my hard pelvis smacking into those muscled globes of flesh. He’s exhaling noisily on each thrust into his grasping ass. His cock, though soft, is gushing precum as I hit the spot. I slow. He’s mentioned he wants my hand--but I want to do something first to stretch him open a little more.

I grab my favorite dildo: a big egg shaped head sitting on a thinner ribbed column. It disappears up his ass like it’s a breadstick. My hard cock slaps his balls. Then it starts to push into his ass, sliding along the ribbed column. I can see he’s not sure what’s happening. But as my cock head slips up to the head of the dildo, his eyes tell me he knows. “Fuck.”

“Double fuck,” I correct him. “Two big cock up your ass, man.”

It’s a perfect fit. It tightens him down again so that my large cock is back in a tight hole. I love sliding the underside of my cock along the ribs of the silicone. My piss slit pounds against the egg. It’s an incredible feeling for both of us. He grabs his cock and starts to stroke. I bat his hand away and slow my rhythm. Soon I pull out and once again slap my drooling head against his balls. I remove the dildo. I show it to him. He sighs. I let it drop to the tarp. I walk over to the footstool and kick it into place. I sit. And pick up the two pronged speculum. I cover it in lube and breathe on it to warm it slightly. The cool metal slowly slides into his ass. I begin to crank it open. Ever so slowly.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah, it’s a speculum.”

“Yeah. I’ve never had one in me.” I give it another couple of turns on the key. “Open me wide, Daddy.”

Another twist and another. Soon my finger can slip in. It’s easy to let it snake across his prostate. He’s no longer with me. He’s floating somewhere, lost in sensation. His hole is being stretched side to side and my finger is driving him crazy. I keep cranking. He groans in encouragement. Now it’s a first for me. I have stretched him open far enough with it that I can slip my cock in, speculum in place. It’s a totally new sensation: cool metal to the left and right and his hot flesh above and below me. It’s a slow deliberate in and out. His eyes roll back to me. Our eyes lock.

“You fucker,” he hisses. I give him a crooked smile. And squeeze down, making the head of my cock swell deep in him. I repeat that action as I go back to the slow piston moves, then withdraw my cock. I crank the speculum shut slowly, careful not to pinch his soft, pink lining. I start greasing my hand cautioning him I don’t have the lube I’d prefer. His hole can‘t quite close. One finger, two, four. I keep adding and subtracting fingers, entering and slowly turning. I add the thumb. I work slowly. Carefully. The bridge of my large hand will just not fold quite enough. We both agree not to push it--he wants to be in great shape for the play party tonight. I transfer the lube all over my hand to my cock which is rising again. It wants release. And it wants to spew in his hole. I slide in.

“Cum in me,” he whispers. I start a long, deliberate stroke in and out. “Give me your cum.” I start to increase the speed. “I kept your cum in me all night.” I start to drive it home. “Cum in me, Daddy.”

“Not yet,” I rasp. I slow the driving slightly.

And begin to piss. “Holy shit. Fill me, Daddy. Shit!!”

His chute is now blazing hot. My super sensitive cock head can’t take much more. As soon as I am done pissing, I increase the tempo, pounding his hole, thrust after thrust. “Take it. Take it, boy.” And I shoot. I can feel shot after shot shooting deep into his ass. Joining my piss. Soaking into his gut. I collapse onto him. His huge arms encircle my thin body. He holds me in place. After a few moments I try to get up off of him. His hand goes from my shoulder to the back of my head and steers it to his mouth. We kiss and kiss. Smashed together. Linked. Imperceptibly rocking in the sling.


Note:
That night I spend even longer at the play party…but that’s another story to come….

Sunday Morning Questions: Big Blackout Edition

So a few of you may have noticed that my blog was offline for an entire day, this week. Actually, a whole hell of a lot of you noticed. I woke up Thursday morning and, as is my habit, grabbed my iPad and started reading my email through the one eye I could blearily open (while the other, and the rest of my face, remained crushed into my bed pillow). That's when I read an email from about two in the morning, my time, from a reader informing me that he couldn't access my blog—had I removed it for good?

My mailbox contained at least a dozen other emails from concerned readers that had trickled in over the night, I noticed when I looked at the subject headings. More than a little concerned, I hopped on over to this site to see what was happening.

If you looked here, Thursday or early Friday, you saw the same thing I did. Just a blank page with the site name across the top—no entries at all, no followers. Only an indication that the blog was maintained by someone other than me. And, if you looked at that guy's profile, it said that he also ran another blog called 'pussyboicumdump.'

What you couldn't see, however, was that on my end of things, everything appeared to be okay. I could log into Blogger, I could see all my entries in the dashboard listing, I could make a quick backup of my posts to supplement the one I'd made at the beginning of the week. Google's so-called 'help' forums (which I didn't find very helpful, by the way) had a mention that a whole bunch of people were reporting issues with missing blogs after the previous night's maintenance, and that everyone should just sit tight until normal service was resumed 'shortly.'

So basically I just sat tight for a little over twenty-four hours, and the blog was back the following day.

But oh my gosh, the hysteria I got from you guys. Some of it was just plain ugly—the I guess you got caught at last! Hah-hah, sucks to be you! kind of emails, or the several emails I got in which guys said that because now my cover was blown that I wrote something called 'pussyboicumdump' that it was OBVIOUS that I was some kind of SCAM ARTIST and that at last they knew the TRUTH that my blog had been FAKE all along.

Which I guess just goes to show that guys will project any negative fantasy they have, whenever they can.

I'm relieved to say, though, the vast majority of the over two hundred messages that came in—and I'm using that phrase to indicate the emails, the social media messages, and the notes guys left on my various hookup site profiles—that most of you were concerned, and worried about me, and worried about not having the blog around. The outpouring of love and support was very, very sweet.

I cannot make a statement that this blog will be around indefinitely. I'll keep writing in it as long as it's fun, and as long as you guys continue to keep making it worthwhile with your comments and emails. If I did close it down, however, I'd be more likely to post a statement and wish everyone well, than simply snatch it down. Furthermore, my blog doesn't violate Blogger's terms of service—I don't have advertising in my blog, nor do I include a lot of photos of which I don't own the copyright—so it's unlikely that they'd yank it.

If they did, I have backups.

But please know that if something happens again, there are ways to get information from me without panicking. You can follow my Twitter feed—or, if you think that Twitter is for egomaniacs who fart out their every little inane thought (and you'd be right, and I do include myself) at least know that I have a Twitter account and am likely to make statements there in the event of a blog outage.

Or you could add me as a friend on Facebook, where I also made a statement about the outage. I know some of you have been reluctant to add me there for some reason or another. But I'm not going to ask you to join my Mafia family. I'm not going to post something on your wall, like Damn boy I want to get up in your fine ass!, for your family to see. It's okay to add me.

And of course it's okay to email me, the way so many of you did. Just know that when I'm getting a couple of hundred emails, my reply is going to be not much more than a cut-and-pasted quote from Google about the outage. Which is what most of you got.

So that's that. One more housekeeping issue, and then we'll get to this week's roundup of questions from formspring.me. I've kept a link on my blog's sidebar to my wishlist at Amazon for pretty much the entire duration of this blog, and some of you have been indulgent enough on occasion to use it. I'm going to remove it at the end of this week for a short spell, until I'm completely moved and at my new address.

Now, don't trip over each other in your mad race to buy me gift cards. I don't want any broken ankles.



Do you let people underestimate you so that you can do the unexpected and tell everyone else.... now what?

Although I am conscious not to oversell myself or my abilities, I don't hide them under a bushel, either. Such calculation is too much wasted energy, in my opinion. I think it's best to be oneself and let one's light shine.


Who would you rather and why? David Tennant or Matt Smith

Oh, both so cute. Matt Smith, probably, because there's something about his rumpled hair and itty-bitty eyes that makes me think he's absolutely adorable.


This might be a redundant question: What do you do if any of your encounters falls for you...? As in, really falls for you...?

The people who've fallen for me in the past tend to come in two different categories. The first consists of those who fall because they've told themselves some romantic story about what they want out of life and love, and I happen either to be there at a propitious time, or fit the stock character they've always envisioned. I'm usually able to tell when that's happening. They get over it quickly enough, once they realize I'm not really that shadowy figment of their imagination.

The other category consists of men who fall for me because we've become close, and gotten to know each other, flaws and all. Usually I fall for them back. Falling in love with someone doesn't mean I rearrange my life, however. It's a lovely feeling, and it means that person is very special to me, but I live in a very real and practical world, not in a romantic world of television and movies.

I suppose there might be a third category of people who've fallen for me and I've never known. I am not sure what to do, if anything, about them. It seems sad to love and not tell of it. Patience on a monument, smiling at grief, and all that.


Is there a piece of music that you play when you're getting romantic?

No. I really dislike music when I'm getting busy. I find it distracting.


What would you do if your favorite celebrity crush walked up to you and said, "Excuse me, but does this smell like chloroform to you?"

I'd say, "Why, I don't know, let me sniff it!" and then position myself over his lap.


If you were a candy bar what would you be?

Mr. Goodbar. Or possibly Nutrageous.


How important is your partner’s penis size to you? Why?

On the list of things I look for in a sexual partner, dick size is pretty far down toward the bottom. Dick attractiveness, however, is a fairly big consideration. I'd rather pick a beautiful-looking smaller cock than one that is large, but oddly-proportioned, or just plain ugly. And there are a lot of ugly dicks out in the wild.

When I used to bottom, I preferred dicks with girth more than dicks with length. Ultimately, though, I've usually been more interested in the overall sexiness of the man to which the penis is attached, than the meat itself.

Usually. Not always.


I don't know if somebody else ask you that question but, what do you do to stay so fit and looking so young. I have a little bit of weight to loose, not a lotbut the little belly bugs me. Thank you.

I appreciate the compliment. All I really do is watch what I eat. For exercise, I do a lot of walking in warmer months and yoga when it's cold.

But other than bathing in the blood of virgins, that's it.


If you could have anything in the world right now what would it be? and please dont answer "cock in my _____"

I think my answer could be summed up rather simply with these words: less uncertainty. And reunion.


If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?

With my family.


Have you ever been to Felch, Michigan? Has Felch, MI ever been to you?

I've visited Felch a number of times. It just wasn't a city in Michigan.


Have you met with or heard from Topher since your Earl days?

I haven't really finished that story to my satisfaction, but the basic answer is no, I haven't.


Have you seen the pictures from the USC Kappa Sigma Scandal? Do you have any thoughts on them?

I did see those. I found them highly arousing. That guy had a slammin' body.

I'm not sure I get what the scandal is, though. Are we really supposed to be shocked that fraternity guys and sorority gals are having sex? I'm pretty sure the frat boy isn't ashamed of those photos.


What did you want to be when you grew up?

I was very determined to be an Egyptologist at one point. When I took anthropology in college, however, I disliked it and abandoned that dream in a hot second.


Have you ever done anything sexual in front of others? What did you do and where?

Goodness gracious, the very idea! I am a naturally modest soul who would never dare do anything sexual in front of others!

Well, on network TV, anyway. I've probably done it everywhere else at this point.

The Memory

“I want to remember this moment,” I said. It was late, and dark, and I was sleepy. Hour after hour we’d kissed and licked and touched and stroked. We’d kissed and held each other tightly. Our hard dicks had pressed against each other, relentless and straining. I was afraid that all those instances of pleasure, all those little pinpoints of desire and need, all, the tiny sparks of humor and sweetness would begin to blur together into one vast and sweet wash of memory. I worried that in the stress of the days to come, I’d forget all the little nuances that made the evening special, and that left me feeling happy and perfectly at peace.

My forehead rested against his shoulder; his long hair covered me like silk. “You want to know how to remember something?” he asked. I felt his lips against the crown of my head. “Just close your eyes. Count to three. And remember.”

I closed my eyes. Then I counted slowly to three.

And I thought about how, when we’d undressed that afternoon and I’d raked my beard down his stomach, pausing here and there to plant warm kisses on his hard, flat stomach, his throbbing dick had overflowed with so much pre-cum that as I watched, the fluid puddled and beaded on the outside of the black jockstrap barely constraining him.

I thought about the sound of his voice when he’d read his poem aloud to me, how broad and wide my smile had been as I basked in the sensuality of his words, and how, at its conclusion, I’d opened my eyes and tears spilled down upon my cheeks.

I remembered the noises he’d made when I’d buried my face into the blond fur growing wildly between his ass cheeks, and the sweet, metallic taste of the flesh just inside his hole.

My mind played for a moment on the downy softness of his close-cropped beard, the exact shade of a perfectly-baked golden-brown cookie, and it remembered the gem-like color of his eyes, and the narrow dark fringe of hair that were his eyebrows.

I smiled to remember the giggles into which we’d dissolved, when I asked him to show me how toppy he gets with his college boys.

I remembered the delicacy and narrowness of his hands, the slenderness of his waist, the solidness of his ribcage against mine, all the times I’d pulled him to me and wrapped my arms around him.
I thought about all the compliments he’d given me, the array of beautiful superlatives that seemed less a burden and more an honor to bear.

And then I opened my heavy lids, and smiled.

When he spoke, he sounded puzzled. “Man. How long does it take for you to count to three?”

Someone's Poem, For Real

“If I were to write a poem about you,” someone said about me not too long ago, “I’d write about the feel of your skin, the smell of you, the way you taste on my tongue. You’d be the best poem I ever wrote.”


The poem that came out of that encounter is certainly the best poem I’ve ever read. Thank you for writing it about our night together, Ace. It’s beautiful. And thank you for letting me share it with my readers.






Someday I’ll Read You This Poem and You’ll Fall in Love with Me All Over Again
lying beside you crushed
pushing my way inside
hard press pull me through
envelope me deeper and longer


this is not about sex
two bodies rubbed and raw
lubricated by sweat
this is not about sex
me trying to push the other side
so far in I’m nearly out


your nimble back jumps
my fingers trace your nerves
pattern of swirling war pant
the scars from pulling marking
passage of flames and breath


can’t compare your taste
to chocolate can’t
compare your taste to flowers
there is nothing before worthy
nothing to describe pleasure
not sweet not sour not bitter not salt not umami
your taste of the absence of taste


if I sound obsessed it is because I am
obsessed with the sound of you the
way you play upon my lips
you vibrate inside me you shake
around me a drum slowly beating
crooning “row row row” while you
skip at the cool air I blow over you


this is about love
the way it can grow at a moment
a moment grows to a year or more
this is about love
our love will make pulling apart worse
the pain a testament to our pleasure

Our Far-Flung Correspondents: FelchingPisser Does CLAW

You guys remember my personal friend FelchingPisser. He's written a couple of guest columns for me before in which he's described some of his adventures with Chgowaterbuddies and at MAL. He's irresistible to me not only because he's hot as hell in person, but because he's an intelligent and educated pig whose philosophy of fucking corresponds pretty well to my own. As a person, he's a gem. And when he volunteers to write a column for me, I leap at the chance, because I know you guys enjoy him, too.

Today he's written in to recount some of his adventures in Cleveland, where he went for the annual CLAW convention. Be sure to thank him for his contribution (and his general hotness) in the comments, would ya? (And as a personal note to FelchingPisser: I want to know more!)

Thursday

It had been an awful Thursday morning:

A few hours at work where no one returned phone calls or emails.

Packing the car quickly before it rained.

Realizing seven miles out of town I had not packed my boots.

A U-turn with a litany of profanity.

Stopping by my parent’s assisted living facility to pay for next month--to be told it now had to be mailed to corporate headquarters.

Garbage. I need to escape: CLAW X

I head south to Toledo. Past the Breeder’s favorite rest area (too bad it’s on the wrong side of the highway…). I stop at the glory hole bookstore in Toledo to buy lube---and to find the arcade is closed for cleaning….Jeez--Come ON!!

I arrive in Cleveland with ease. Find the Hampton Inn with ease. My mood is brightening. I’d asked for a single king-size bed--so I’d have room for the sling. And that’s what they give me. Set up is a breeze. Move around an easy chair and the sling sits in one corner with the rim seat next to it. Have a sling and hungry bottoms will beat a path to your door…

Quick dinner and online. It’s set up day for CLAW and the leather crowd is busy, so I’m guessing I will play with a local who appreciates the leather boys coming to town. Instantly I get a hit. My earlier mood has evaporated. In three emails each we connect, approve and meet. YES! The way it’s supposed to work. He’s at my door in no time. A furry blue collar man with a nice build, great chest hair pattern and who swears he can be fucked for hours. He strips. I am in a jock and boots with my leather wrist band. The leather is in the drawer and that’s just fine with both of us. He drops to his knees and proceeds to make the jock incredibly wet before he takes my cock out. He gags as I reach my full hardness in his throat. I toss him on the bed, on all fours and dive into his furry ass. I lick his hole deep. I spread the cheeks and go deeper still--he is panting and babbling. I rear up and slowly slip my cock home.

“Jesus.”

I don’t move for a moment. “Is that the cock you wanted so much?”

“Fuck, yeah”

I slowly begin to move.

His breathing is rapid--then he starts talking absolute filth. “Fill me with your cock. Your fucking huge dick. Fuck, yeah. Fuck me with that dripping pole. Yeah, make me feel it. Fuck. Yeah, Fuck. I want your cock snot deep in me. Fuck…”

I reach down and hold the back of his head, pushing his face into the covers of the bed. It doesn’t stop him reciting his mantra--it just makes it unintelligible.

We continue on the bed for awhile. Then I pull him up and get him into the sling. His ass is spread wide and he can’t keep his index finger out of this ass. I kneel and begin licking around the outside edge. As he pulls his finger out, I lick it off and dive for the hole. His sizable cock is erect. I come up for air and suck just the head into my mouth. I press my fingers against his balls to milk it into my mouth. He gasps as his cock spits a large amount of precum onto my tongue. I don’t swallow. No, I stuff it up his ass with my tongue.

“Oh, fuck. You put my cum in my hole.”

I repeat the process. My own cock is leaking. I smear that against his puffy hole, then push it in deep with my tongue. Finally, my cock enters him again. The chains rattle in time to my thrusts and to his voice. He’s back to babble as we are both lost in sensation. I seem to fuck forever--I know the porn on the computer is over. I pull out, make him clean my cock, then I clean his dripping dick and put it all up his ass.

“Get up. I want to eat that precum out of your hole.”

I lie under the rim seat. He sits gingerly on it. “I’ve never done this.” The seat spreads his hole and my tongue goes deep the first moment.

“Shit!” The strands of precum are dripping from his ass into my mouth. I feel like I’ve never been deeper in anyone’s hole. He’s jerking now, too. My tongue swirls, laps, eats every last incredible drop. Finally, my jaw gives out. I tap his thighs--to get him up. It’s back to the sling. I drive home. I know I’m close. So does he. “Give it to me. Give it to this cock whore.” I shoot. Deep. Long. Big. A good five days worth of cum. My knees buckle and I’m lying on him.

“Please. Eat my hole.” I slowly pull out and begin felching my mega load out of him. “Fuck, yeah. Eat that cum!” In a few swift strokes he spews, almost to his chin. I start to go for his load, but he pushes me away and is up, out of the sling--wiping himself down with the sling towel--and out the door with barely a word spoken-- except for a soft, barely audible “Thanks--that was hot.”

Friday

I start the day by having the Hampton’s breakfast buffet with other leathermen--and a gaggle of teenagers on a field trip-- all watching the Royal Wedding instant replay. Back in my room, I read the Open Forum Friday on Cocksuckers over one more cup of coffee. By one o’clock it’s off to registration at the main hotel--easier this year, then the endless lines of other years. I go down to the Vendor’s Mart, and say hello to my buds at The Leather Man. Everywhere I turn, I swear there is a man I played with from previous years: The piss drinker, The guy I fucked on the motorcycle, The glory hole booth guy I fucked as he was sucking cock, The boy who found me every time he took a load so I could felch it. My dance card could be filled just with these re-dos. I wander the various displays of goods, but feel no need to reach for my wallet. I walk home--I’m ready to play.

Almost immediately I am hit up on Man-Hunt by a guy who wants to suck my cock. I type back that I’m looking for more. He says I can fuck him, but he’s not sure he can take my size. I respond with saying that still sounds problematic. He asks if he can recommend a bottom for both of us to use. Now he’s talking--I check this new guy’s pics--Yes! 15 minutes later, the would-be sucker knocks on my door. He’s far better looking than his pics, (early 40’s, hairy, defined but not worked out) and sports a large wedding ring. We strip and don’t wait for the third. He is hungry. He is on his knees and slurping on my thickening cock. I pull him up, get him on the bed, with his head hanging over the edge to fuck his face. He moans as my cock slaps his nose and cheek. I insert slowly. Adding half an inch at a time. He’s panting. And jerking like mad. I hope he lasts until the bottom arrives. Just as I have a good fuck rhythm started, there is a knock on the door…

I open the door on an attractive guy, about the same age, but of slightly smaller build. Rick, he tells me. I greet him and return to Married Guy on the bed. He hangs his head right back over, telling me to fuck his face. I start, as the bottom strips. He jumps on the bed with us, gets between MG’s legs and starts sucking. He sits on MG’s cock as soon as it’s slightly wet and gets massive points from me for finding my mouth with his own--while there is still some precum in it. I pull out of MG’s mouth and go around to see the fucking. His cock is thicker than I’d thought--and looks terrific in the bottom’s ass. I lean forward and lick the disappearing shaft. Excellent. I stand on the bed, straddling MG. I kiss Rick to see if he’s ok with the Ass To Mouth moment. His answer is to groan, and stick his tongue deeper into mine. We kiss--lost in the exchange of juices. I straighten up and put my cock into Rick’s mouth as he continues to ride. Wow, no bad blow jobs here.

Soon I am lying on the bed. I have Rick bouncing on my cock and MG sitting on my face. He almost suffocates me. But I kinda like that. After a few minutes, I suggest it would be easier with the rimseat. I get under. But Rick sits on the seat to let me taste what the two cocks have done to his hole. MG is standing up so Rick can suck him as I eat Rick‘s ass. The smell of poppers in the room is almost overpowering. After what seems like a long time the guys switch. I’m still in place, but now I’m rimming MG’s ass as Rick slowly inserts my cock in his incredibly wet hole. I have to use every ounce of will not to shoot. I get past it and let him control the fuck. I have no choice, really. I’m fucking pinned to the floor by two men in heat.

“Fuck me in the sling,” Rick whispers. Both stand and Rick helps me up. I let MG slide into him first. He fucks but looks like he could blow any minute. He pulls out and tells me he wants to watch me fuck. I enter the bottom again. But the new position of Rick on his back feels totally different. “Oh, God…you go so deep,” he hisses. “Fuck!” I start to slam into him. Hard.

After several minutes, MG says if he’s gonna try my cock it has to be now. Rick gets out of the sling, MG gets in. I rim for another moment…hoping he can take me. I meet with a clenched hole. I tongue him some more as Rick bites his nipple. That opens him right up. I stand and insert. MG is panting. I wonder if he’s going to hyperventilate. He is still tight. I start to fuck. Slowly. His eyes roll into the back of his head. Rick continues on his nipples. I increase the pace. We both sense he‘s going to blow fast. Rick dives for his cock, pulling away his hand. He’s just in time. He gets a mouthful of cum as MG groans. I slow the fuck and ease out of his married hole. Rick comes around the sling frame and kisses me, snowballing the load. I make a noise deep in my throat and bend him over, on top of MG. I spread his well fucked ass cheeks and reverse felch the load now in my mouth into Rick’s hot, wet hole. It’s his turn to groan. MG holds on to him as I slip my dripping cock into Rick--pushing the load deep. Where he’d really wanted it. Where he’d had it many other times….

I fuck for a bit, but MG needs to take off. I reposition Rick on the bed, doggie style, as MG dresses, excuses himself and leaves. I dip down and taste his hole again. Fabulous. It’s so good I scramble up on the bed to share the taste still on my tongue with Rick. I lose all track of time, I have no idea how long we fuck--never leaving the bed again. Finally, with his legs on my shoulders, his eyes locked with mine, I grunt, grind and thrust a load deep into his guts. I collapse on him--Rick pulling me tighter. I leave my meat in place to marinate. Our breathing stills, becomes one--and he’s asleep in my arms. I am close to sleep myself. Maybe I nod off. Long minutes later, I pull away just enough to look at him still sleeping, his breathing on the edge of a snore. It’s a mini triumph for me--the first man I’ve allowed to sleep in my arms since I became a widower…

Friday Night

Rick has gone. I’ve slept and eaten a late supper. It’s 10 o’clock and I need to dress for the Recon/reFlex play party. This is what makes CLAW different than other leather events--it’s not just hotel sex, there is a playspace. Over the years they have had various dungeon spaces, but for the last few, the Flex bathhouse has given them the upper floor of a warehouse that is not part of the regular bathhouse. There are slings, gloryholes, crosses, a bondage table, a tire swing, a fuck bench, a motorcycle to bend your boy over, and a barnyard feeding trough for piss play. It is modeled on the Fort Troff Maneuvers spaces.

I open the closet door. The smell of leather fills the room. I am showered and naked. I add the metal, slightly rusty cockring. Yellow jock. Thick wool socks. Combat boots. Chaps. Harness. Left black leather wrist band. Right black and yellow wrist band. I look at myself in the mirror. Yeah. I slip into the flight suit to cover it all so I can walk through the lobby.

The doors open at 11. I check in at 11:30. I like to watch the troops gather. First stop the piss trough. Still empty, but I christen it with a long flow. One of the guys watching me is the man I fucked across the motorcycle last year after he’d spent hours on the bondage table. He’s hot, my age, looks like the mechanic we all wish was under our car. He stops me from putting my cock away. He kneels and begins to give excellent head. It’s like an alarm sounds--or our images are flashed on a huge screen--for we go from being almost alone to suddenly ringed with guys watching us. Neither of us care. My cock is now hard. He leaves it and starts sucking my balls. A hand snakes out of the crowd and wrenches my cock as if it were just a hunk of salami. I remove the offending hand and put it back in the cocksuckers mouth. Hands are on my nipples, my ass cheeks, on the back of the boy’s head. A short Hispanic boy, with an tool nearly as big as mine, is the one forcing him down on me. We get him up. I pull the boy’s pants down, bend him toward the Hispanic’s cock and kneel to lick his hole. I don’t spend long. I get it wet, stand, slap my cock on his hole. He grunts around the dick lodged in his throat. The crowd is jacking. I insert, driving him all the way down on the cock in his mouth. I fuck. I turn him around. He hungrily cleans my cock as the Hispanic slips up him. Eventually we take him to a sling and continue tagging his ass.

No one is looking to cum. We have hours to pace ourselves and sample all sorts of men. The crowd is building. It’s hard to tell, but I would guess 100 to 125 men are there. I eventually head back to the piss tub. A boy is reclining in it. I wet him down, letting my piss play around his hard cock, up his chest and flirting with his mouth. I let him decide if he wants to drink. Of course he does. He dips and slurps.

The next few hours become a blur of hungry mouths, hungrier holes, and some piss pouring down my gullet. I am in a state of constant arousal. I make my way around the to the fuck bench. A young Asian sub is in it being plowed by a massively muscled black man. It’s absolutely riveting. The crowd is stroking, but no one seems to be allowed to touch the boy. I join the audience watching the fuck from the side. The top’s arm snakes out and pulls me to him. “Fuck my boy bareback. But don’t cum in him.” He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I kneel and taste the sweet, young hole. My cock pushes in. The boy squeals for his daddy. But daddy is busy selecting some lucky hole from the crowd. He brings the chosen bottom over in front of his boy and bends him over. The two bottoms grab onto each other as we plow. We fuck in rhythm so the two boys are mashed toward each other. The site of the four of us leads to any number of other couplings around us. There is fucking everywhere. The black top tells me to let a guy to my right into his boy and I should try the guy he got out of the crowd. We change…my new hole is very wet. Then as suddenly as it erupted, it all stops as the Black top pulls his boy up and away.

I head back to the piss area. Two gorgeous leather clad men in full gear are about to piss. I kneel in front of one. “I’m piss shy,” he says. 

“But I’m not.” His boy friend pushes over to me. His cock rests lightly on my tongue. No sucking now. Just wait. He starts to piss. It’s everything I love about piss drinking. Sweet tasting. And that endless flow. That never ending cumshot. I start to suckle a little on his cock. I hear his boyfriend piss in the tub behind us. Having piss fill me up makes me instantly erect. As he finishes pissing, the man I’m drinking leans over and touches my cock. “Look at this thing.” The piss shy boy makes me stand up. The top fondles my cock along with the boy. “You’d like that up your hole wouldn’t you?” The boy only nods. I look at the feeder. He nods. I bend the pee shy boy over the tub and begin to rim. Great hole. I push in. His partner begins kissing me as I fuck his boyfriend. I think this may be it. I’m closer to cumming now than I’ve been all night. An older man reaches out to touch us. The boys will have none of that, dammit. They stop me and say come back to the hotel. I consider---but say no.

I make the circuit of all the playspaces. But I‘ve been spoiled. Nothing looks good now. Until I get to the fuck bench. A muscle god in leather. Tattooed angel wings on his back. Arms that make me weak-kneed. And he only has eyes for my cock. I get him in the sling next to the fuck bench. I kneel, at worship for those gym built thighs. His ass is all muscle. I use my hands to part those cheeks to let my tongue in. He whimpers. I ‘m sure I can taste some cum. There may be a crowd, but we are lost in what we are doing for each other. I rise, wipe my drooling cock head on his hole. “Oh, yeah!” he moans.

“You want this in you?”

“Fuck man. I need some cum. I’ve only got a couple of loads.”

I kneel and lick my precum off his hole, lean across him and kiss him. Long, wet, passionate. My brain clicks. I know I will load this man. I slowly begin working my cock in as we kiss. He is sucking so hard on my tongue that I can barely get my breath. I start slowly fucking. It builds rapidly. Faster than I meant to. His ass is doing incredible things on the entire length of my cock. We are beyond words. I begin to buck wildly into his ass.

“Breed me. Come on, breed me!”

I thump on his chest. “Yeah. Yeah.”

“Fuck me!”

I begin a low rumble in the back of my throat. “Fuuuckkkkkkk!”

I shoot. A build up of hours and hours of play. I collapse across him. He holds me. I can’t stand. His ass will not let me pull out. Nor do I want to. I kiss him. He responds hungrily. Slowly we return to be aware of others around us. From out of the crowd, a cute young leather man emerges. His boyfriend. I slowly pull out. The boyfriend samples the left over jizz on my cock. I help the muscle god out of the sling. We hug. Tight. They leave. I hold on to the sling and pull myself together. I retrieve my bag and slip into the flight suit. I slowly make my way down the stairs and out to the car. It’s 4:30 am. Five hours of play--not bad. Not bad at all…

Coda: Those are the first two days of my four day trip. I’ll post the rest later if The Breeder, and you folks, would like to know more….