Pig Party

When I blogged about the Silver Fox the other day, I off-handedly mentioned a fist-and-fuck party at which we’d teamed up, a few months ago. The host was a guy named Hardy, a very pleasant, educated fellow with a handsome face and an intense pair of dark eyes who’d ridden my dick and hand several times before. I respect Hardy a lot for being a pig when the clothes come off and a decent, humorous guy all the time, but I think I really did tick him off a little bit at that gathering, last fall.

He’d gone to a lot of trouble to assemble a group of about ten guys that he’d personally met and thought would hit it off well. It wasn’t until about three-thirty in the morning, that night, that everyone was finally drained and relaxing and he said, “Yeah, I thought this would be a good group. I’d gone to a lot of trouble to invite an equal number of total tops and total bottoms and no versatiles. But I guess there was only one total top.” Then he’d glared at me.

At least the four other tops I’d bent over and fucked had the decency to look abashed.

I thought that perhaps I’d be banned from Hardy’s parties for life, but scarcely had I posted the Silver Fox entry the other day than he sent me an email inviting me to a party on Saturday night. The Fox also sent me a message, telling me he’d be there and that he wanted me to come. So of course I said yes.

The group was smaller, this time—just five of us. The Fox was there, looking handsome and sexy in a pair of leather pants and a trim leather vest that showed off his biceps. Another guy I’d met and really liked from the first party, Chaz, arrived at the same time as I. The three of us were the so-called tops (though I’d fucked both Chaz and the Fox several times at the last get-together). Hardy and an out-of-town friend, Mike, were the two dedicated bottoms, in Hardy’s scheme.

So naturally, the first thing I did when the clothes came off was to tag the two tops. No, I’m not kidding. But it wasn’t intentional, honest.

Hardy has one of the most elaborate fuck dungeons I’ve ever seen. It’s a closed-off, finished room in his basement that contains its own heater. Carpeting covers the floor, keeping it warm and soft for any guys topping at the three slings. Yes, three slings. One’s a traditional leather hammock, another’s a padded flat bench with a pillow, suspended by chains. There’s also a leather harness hanging at the dungeon’s other end. Hardy’s additionally installed a padded fisting bench, and set a futon and a comfortable sofa in corners for those who like somewhere more traditional to fuck.

No less than five mirrors hang suspended from chains around the room’s edge; they can be angled with hooks to reflect anything. There are mirrors over each of the three slings. Outside the room’s entrance are two tall metal shelving units that accommodate a hospital’s worth of white towels and washcloths, jars of every lube imaginable, and tins of generic vegetable shortening. Inside the room are another couple of shelving units that contain plastic bins of dildos, butt plugs, and vibrators. It’s quite an elaborate set-up. Hardy doesn’t cut corners when it comes to his anal pleasures.

Which is why I guess I’m surprised he buys the generic vegetable shortening, I idly mused Saturday night once everyone was in the dungeon and naked. I sat on the corner of the futon watching Hardy bring in towels and tubs of faux-Crisco, when Chaz stood in front of me, wearing nothing but a pair of gray socks. I and opened my mouth while I gazed meaningfully up at him. He immediately slid his dick between my lips. Chaz and I are built similarly, with narrow shoulders and trim hips and big dicks and beards, though his is more auburn while mine’s a perpetual dirty blond. I submitted to his meat as he slid it in and out, managing not to gag when he’d push it in to the base. He held onto the back of my head and ground his hips as if my mouth were an ass. I was at rock hard attention from being treated that way.

The Fox moved over and stood in front of me as well. He’d stripped down to a black T-shirt, his vest, his weighty black boots, and another of his many jock straps. While I sucked Chaz, the Fox moved the bulge of his jock lasciviously back and forth over my left cheek. Once he’d hardened, he pulled out his heavy dick and began beating my face with it. When I switched from Chaz’s dick to the Fox’s, Chaz dropped to all fours and began to suck me.

Once I’d gotten the Fox’s dick slick, he moved behind Chaz. Without much in the way of preliminaries, he started working into Chaz’s hole. The intensity made Chaz swallow my own cock to the base and leave it there, while he groaned and struggled to accommodate the Fox’s girth. Soon, though, he was moving back and forth between us, setting his own rhythm. Like we had only a few days before, the Fox and I stared in each other’s eyes and grinned, enjoying the connection we had as a single man serviced us both. There’s something about flipping a top that makes my meat more rigid and my nuts pull in tighter; it’s an expression of power and of dominance. Watching a masculine, attractive top give up both holes to me and to one of my favorite buddies . . . well, that’s priceless. My dick swelled harder than concrete as I slipped in and out of Chaz’s mouth.

Hardy split us up. That didn’t surprise me. I almost expected him to be a little jealous that his three invited tops had split off and started their own mini-orgy. What did surprise me, however, is how he lifted a dazed and blinking Chaz to his stockinged feet, guided him over to the harness sling, and pushed him back into it. Expertly he arranged the straps so that Chaz’s feet rested in them, and then slipped twin leather nooses around his wrists. “They’re deceptively simple,” he told us. Chaz tugged with his arms and found quickly that the leather slip knots around his wrist tightened immediately. When he attempted to create slack, they remained just as tight. “He won’t be getting out of that. Fuck him,” said Hardy, looking right in my eyes. That part did surprise me. “I know you want to. I like watching you fuck his ass,” he said. From one of the shelving units he grabbed a pristine bottle of lube. He broke the seal, squirted out a generous handful, and walked around to where I stood at the sling’s base. His hand wrapped around my dick, slathering it with the cold goo. “Fuck him like you did last time,” he said. “Breed his hole.”

I didn’t need any further invitation. I stepped forward and started working my dick into Chaz’s pucker. It was already wet from the Fox’s spit. The lube mixed with what was already there so that I slid right in. Just like he had been last time we met, Chaz was warm and tight inside. At my invasion he grappled helplessly with his arms, trying to struggle away or to reach out. It was impossible to tell what he was trying to do, because the straps restrained his movement to arcs in the air. I grabbed onto the chains next to his calves and stood there, letting the pendulum-like motion from the sling do the fuck-work for me.

I like to start with more of a grinding motion than outright slamming. The sling wasn’t adjusted very well for my height; I had to stand on tiptoe to stay in his hole, and I was by far the tallest man there. I was enjoying myself too much to ask Hardy to change the hooks, however, and frankly I thought that standing on the balls of my feet was a small price to pay for an ass that fine. Chaz’s eyes were mere slits, glinting from time to time in the dim dungeon light. Hardy’s fingers kept darting out to touch the root of my cock as I slipped in and out. The Fox, in the meantime, ran his hands over Chaz’s chest. Gradually my strokes became faster and longer. The sling began to bounce back and forth, its metal and leather making slight protests with every thrust. Hardy brought out a pair of wooden clothespins. One at a time he placed them over Chaz’s nipples. Chaz didn’t even notice the first one being applied; when he felt something cutting through the pleasure the second time, he opened his eyes to find not one, but both of his nipples being chewed on by the wooden pegs.

It wasn’t so much the sensations that excited him as the surprise of it. His ass clamped down immediately. The pressure made my dick explode almost unexpectedly. I’d been building up to orgasm little by little, but the extra sensation pushed me over the edge. I heard all four men grunting in appreciation as I unloaded with shudders. The Fox stood behind me and held me while the lights came back in my eyes; I felt Hardy drop to his knees and clean my dick off.

I don’t get invited to sex parties because I arrive wearing hot costumes, or because I bring snack. I don’t get invited for my good looks, which are modest. I get invited for four reasons. I show up when I say I will. I arrive on time. I have a big tool. And most importantly, I shoot multiple loads and stay hard between them. Barely had Hardy sucked the cum and lube from my cock than the Silver Fox was on his knees, grabbing the back of the sofa and putting his butt in the air. “I didn’t get any of that dick a few days ago,” he said. “But I’m gettin’ it now.”

I glanced at Hardy to see if his face was annoyed by the fact that within the space of a half hour, I would have already fucked two of his so-called tops, but he was just fascinated by the fucklust of it all. Chaz had helped out-of-town Mike onto the bench sling and was rubbing his hole with shortening, but Hardy started rubbing his hands all over the Fox’s body, spreading his cheeks and inviting me inside. I spat on my hand, rubbed it over the Fox’s hole, and slid in.

There’s not much of a challenge to get in the Fox’s ass; it’s been well-worked over the years, top or not. He bucked and groaned as I entered him inch by inch, but once he felt my nuts against his, he sunk into the sofa’s upholstery and sighed. Hardy drizzled more lube onto my dick as I pulled it out. He seemed to be enjoying watching. From angle to angle he moved while I screwed, as I put on a show for him. I’d pull my dick all the way out, pause, and then plunge it back inside, causing the Fox to groan with every sudden invasion. Hardy seemed to enjoy it in the way he’d enjoy a particularly good porn film, only in 3-D with exceptional sound and the ability to inhale the clinical lube smell. Stoking his cock, he got on his knees and from underneath watched my dick slide in and out, stroke by long stroke.

Eventually the Fox started to fuck back. He planted a leg on the ground, left one foot on the sofa, and started to meet my thrusts. My balls knocked against his like some kind of childrens’ toy; the dungeon was filled with the soft and steady sound of my hips slapping against his butt cheeks. This wasn’t gentle lovemaking by any means. This was balls-to-the-wall, ass-slappin’, man-fuckin’. The two of us sustained a most excellent rhythm. In and out I slammed, while he bucked and grunted like a bronco. It was when Hardy reached up, grabbed my balls, and started to twist them that I lunged forward, growled like an animal, and planted my second load in the Fox’s ass. He collapsed forward, hitting the wall with a thud. I was already shaky on my pins, post-orgasm. He carried me with him. For a moment we were both stunned, and then we laughed and wiped the sweat from our faces.

The Fox stood up to clean himself off in the laundry room outside, but Hardy stayed on the floor for a couple of minutes, rubbing my feet while my head cleared. We both sat there in silence and watched Chaz go at out-of-town Mike across the room. “Listen,” I said at last, once I had my breath back. “I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” Hardy wanted to know.

I gestured in Chaz’s direction and then at the closed door, beyond which the Fox was making splashing noises. “For loading up your tops, first thing.”

“You had fun, right?” I nodded. He reached out and played with my dick, which was still hard and resting on my thigh. “And I know you’re able to go again.”

“Sure.” I found myself being taken by both hands and hauled to my feet. Hardy led me across the dungeon to the traditional sling next to the bench, which was rocking back and forth with Chaz and out-of-town-Mike. He didn’t let go of my hands until he’d propped his butt against the leather and needed his own to grab hold of the chains. He hauled himself up and back so that his legs were spread and his hole was at the perfect height for fucking.

“Well then,” he said, as if he were explaining something simple to a child. “I know how you work. Get the first two out of the way, and then your third fuck lasts and lasts.” I had to crack a grin at his smug little smirk. “They might get you first, but I get you longest.”

Smart man. He was right about that.

DP

I met the Silver Fox a little over a year ago, on a very cold February day. I remember how frigid it was because I absolutely hate sub-freezing temperatures and I shivered the entire time over there, bitter at myself for leaving my warm house on such an awful, snowy morning. The Silver Fox lives in the green and fertile heart of the most exclusive and wealthiest suburb in my area. His home was designed by an actual architect, one with a capital-N Name. It’s exquisitely decorated. And the Silver Fox is definitely A-gay material himself. He’s handsome and immaculately groomed, a gray-haired former model with a killer body and a closet full of leather. I saw him at IML last year walking through the crowd in his harness and chaps—the cock of the walk, trailed by admiring would-be bottoms, all of whom looked like porn stars. He’s just that handsome.

And for me, he flips his ass in the air. It’s a compliment.

I also remember how cold it was when we first met because that morning, the Silver Fox and I had sex all over his house. We started in the living room and then moved to his kitchen, then took it to the bedroom with its panorama of picture windows. “You want to know what would be hot?” he asked. I shook my head. “If we fucked outside. In the snow.” It sounded awful, to be honest, but the Fox was so hot that I just nodded my head and agreed, and went outside with him in the forest that was his backyard and fucked him rough against a pine while the snow fell around us.

We met again a couple of months later at a fuck-and-fist party on the other side of town, where we were both all over each other the moment I walked through the door. I found out afterward that all the other men at the party had thought we were boyfriends because of the way we made out while we tag-teamed holes together. (That was also the party in which the host, who had carefully proportioned a greater number of tops to the ratio of bottoms, got mad at me because I fucked every single one of the tops. It’s not like I knew. They’re all bottoms to me when they’ve got their asses in the air.)

Since then we’ve been buddies, swapping information on bottoms and meeting up from time to time. I’m always flattered that I hold his attention and interest, because personally, I’ve always felt myself a couple of leagues below the guy in terms of appeal—yet he always makes me feel like not only a long-lasting and driven guy who happens to enjoy fucking, but like a genuine alpha top stud who he's proud to have running by his side. It’s a good feeling. So when he got in touch with me Tuesday morning to let me know that he had a bottom coming over and that he wanted me to share him, I was all Barry White growling, awwwww yeah.

We’re going to DP the little bitch, he messaged to me. He’s one of my best. The bitch in question was a guy who’d been chasing after me off and on for several months on Manhunt, though we never seemed to be able to find a time or a place to play. His name was Elliot, and in his photos he was a wiry little thing. Small in height, a small frame, a small head with big eyes, and enormous nipples on a lightly muscular chest. I wrote the Fox back and told him I’d be on my way.

When I reached his house (and parked behind his Jaguar), the Fox greeted me at the door in a military-style shirt with the sleeves ripped out to expose the curves of his biceps, and a black jockstrap with red piping. “Damn, you look good,” he said, which was a generous compliment to someone wearing a pair of jeans, a brown T-shirt, and a hoodie. He pulled my head to his and our beards ground together as we made out.

My hands ran over his hard pecs, tweaked his nipples, felt his full, bulging basket, and then sampled the heavy firmness of his buttocks. I let my hand trail between his cheeks, and when the tips of my fingers felt that his hole was wet and pre-greased, I could barely suppress a laugh. I’ve had occasional guys grease up for me in advance before. But every single bottom in the last week revealing themselves to be greased up the moment I pull down their pants? It’s like some kind of crazy Californian fad.

“The hole’s in the bedroom.” The Fox was still nuzzling my neck as he pulled me through his elegantly-appointed kitchen and living room and into an office that looked like a spread in Architectural Digest. “He was so anxious to get fucked that he circled the block over and over again until my boyfriend finally left. Get your clothes off in here and we’ll go meet him.” It was a little difficult for me to remove my clothing while the Silver Fox pinched my nipples and made out with me, but somehow I managed to get down to my T-shirt and a pair of square-cut trunks. We walked into the bedroom where the bottom was on all fours. The expensive duvet was protected by a thick layer of towels.

I’d contacted the bottom more than a few times, though nothing had ever come of it. His Manhunt profile did not do him justice. Online, his photos made him look like vaguely attractive. In person, he was a hot little fuckstud. I was already mostly hard from the Fox’s attentions. The sight of Elliot with his hairy, tiny ass in the air made my dick swell. “Fuck yeah,” said the Fox, when he heard me catch my breath. “Pretty, huh?”

I didn’t answer. I’d already vaulted to the bed’s edge so I could bury my face in Elliot’s hole. Almost immediately my tongue went numb. More lube, of course. The desensitizing kind, which tastes none too great. Apparently the only hole in Michigan that’s not self-lubricating these days is my own. I tried to wipe it out of my mouth. Elliot, however, distracted me by whipping around and planting his mouth on my dick, sucking on the cotton of my trunks as his mouth half-surrounded the prize within. While I ripped off my underwear so I could shove the uncovered dick into his mouth, the Fox took off his military shirt, then pulled aside his jock to reveal his own cock. He’s very generously hung—perhaps an inch shorter than me, though thicker and vacuum-pumped. His apparatus was strangled to a deep purple color by the complex leather straps encaging it, but damn. What a dick.

The two of us continued to make out while Elliot sucked me. At one point I removed his lips from my meat and pointed them at the Fox’s; he suckled at it like a hungry baby. The Fox enjoyed it for a while, then set him nursing on me again. Back and forth we went, sharing that mouth, while the two of us made out with each other, stroked each other’s chests, and slapped each other’s asses.

After a while, the Fox growled, “You want me to open him up for you?”

I tend to connect emotionally and mentally with other top men, in a three-way situation. The hierarchy of my focus is roughly this: #1—my dick. #2—The other top and his dick. A distant #3—The hole we’re sharing. It’s a primal thing between two tops. The world revolves between us, and the other man is just fuckmeat for our pleasure. I lay down on the bed with my back propped up on the pillows so that Elliot could suck me. The Fox knelt behind him and spread his legs wide, then adjusted the height of his ass. The boy’s mouth flew wide open as the Fox pushed inside; he yelled bloody murder. Gradually, slowly, his agony subsided and was replaced by something else entirely. His eyes shut, and his mouth softened from a rictus of pain to a gentle smile. “Thank you,” he murmured, over and over again. “Thank you.” He moved his mouth to my nuts and dick.

I didn’t pay much attention, because all my attention was on the Fox. He and I locked eyes as he fucked into the boy. He went slowly, siding in and out with full-body strokes that eased him back and forth. We barely even blinked as we stared into each other’s eyes. The corner of his mouth quirked up. He was getting off on looking at me as I laid back with my arms over my head, getting serviced. I grinned back to watch him fucking that hole with such obvious relish. For long minutes the two of us enjoyed fucking both ends of the boy, our eyes never leaving the other’s.

“Your turn,” he said at last.

We swapped positions. Onto my dick I slapped some of the gun oil the Fox had set out, then rubbed my cockhead against the hole. Elliot was tight. Tight like a boy, tight. I’m usually very good at getting into a clamped-down hole, but it was tough to open him enough to squeeze in, and he’d just had the Silver Fox’s meaty dick in there. After some more lube I finally got it open enough to pop in. I do mean pop. There was massive resistance, and then a sudden implosion as he opened up and let me in. Then he clamped down again, so rigidly that I had sudden visions of having to call 911 to have them rescue me. “Feels great, huh?” asked the Fox.

“Holy shit,” I said, my eyes wide open. I had to admit, I don’t think I’ve been in a fully adult hole that clenched, ever before. It was as unrelenting as a vise grip as I fucked it. As I had with him, the Fox nodded and grinned and licked his lips while he watched me fuck. “There is no way this hole’s going to be able to take a DP,” I said, after a while.

“Let’s give it a try,” the Fox suggested.

So we did. I’ve only done double penetrations from one position. Usually because of my length, I’m lying on my back so that the bottom can climb on my dick and ride it. The other top comes in from behind, so that I’m usually lying under two hundred and fifty pounds or more of manflesh. I enjoy the act of double-penetrating a hole with another guy, but it’s not the ultimate end-all, be-all experience for me. I don’t get much control over the sensations. With so much poundage piled atop me, I don’t get much chance to thrust, and I’m rarely in all the way to the base. It’s pleasurable, sure, but I’ve never climaxed that way. I lay down and got into position. It quickly became apparent, though, that I wasn’t going to be able to single-penetrate Elliot with him on top of me, much less the two of us get into him with our considerable dicks. We grunted and strained and made Elliot yell a couple of times, but it wasn’t happening.

Still, it was all good. I flipped him onto his knees again and fucked my way back deep while the Silver Fox whispered in my ear beside me, egging me on. “Seed his little hole,” he’d say. Then he’d grab my hand and move it down to his own ass. “Like you’re going to seed mine, next time you see me.” I’d be helpless as he tilted back my head with his hands and kiss me. It was when he grabbed my fingers with his and moved them both down to where my dick was sliding in and out of Elliot’s hole that I found myself being pushed over the edge. “Yeah,” grunted the Fox, recognizing the signs of impending orgasm. He grabbed my balls from behind and pulled down on them. “Breed that little fucker.”

I did, shortly thereafter, erupting inside him with what felt like white-hot pulses of lava. I’d barely started breathing normally again than the Fox pushed me aside and shoved his dick in there, fucking in my load so roughly that it began to spill out around his cock and onto the towels below. He came mere moments later, unloading with harsh and guttural cries. When he finally pried himself out and away, his hands had left enormous red prints on Elliot’s ass.

“Oh my god,” Elliot said, looking at what was dripping between his legs. He reached down, felt his hole, and pulled away three fingers loaded with cum.

“Here’s the thing,” said the Silver Fox to him. He very gently lowered me down to the mattresses and adjusted the pillows behind my back. “My buddy here ain’t finished yet. He doesn’t go down after one load. Do you, buddy?” he asked. I shook my head. “So why don’t the two of us do him a big favor and coax one more load out of those pretty nuts?”

“You don’t have to,” I said. My head was still spinning. “Seriously.”

It was too late, though. Elliot was already down between my legs, licking at my balls. The Fox began cleaning off my dick with his mouth. The sensations the two of them produced brought me back to full hardness in no time. They sucked for what felt like endless, formless hours. “Switch,” the Fox would say on occasion. He’d start to munch at my balls while Elliot sucked my dick.

I started to quiver. My legs began to shake. When I opened my eyes, I found the Fox staring directly into them. “What do you need?” he wanted to know.

“I need to fuck again,” I gasped.

“Then do it.” He helped me get Elliot to the bed’s edge. His hole was still super-tight, but I got in relatively quickly and began thrusting. I wasn’t going to last long. The Fox positioned himself on the floor so that he was staring up at the sight. “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he repeated more than once, stroking himself. “Fuckin’ awesome. Do it, buddy.”

The Fox shot another load all over his jock and belly, almost silently. I didn’t know he’d done it until I noticed him buckling and thrashing below me. He scooped up his load with his index and middle fingers, and slapped it right onto my hole. That was enough to push me over the edge. With a mighty roar I shot again, four or five great big pulses that left me panting and breathless. Elliot slowly pulled off me and fell forward onto his shoulders and face. A glob of cum had splatted down onto the Fox’s chest. At first I though it had come from Elliot’s ass, but no. Elliot had shot while I’d fucked him, all over our buddy.

While Elliot was in the shower, cleaning up before he went to work, the Silver Fox helped me dress. He held my jeans for me to step in, and knelt down on the floor to help me into my sneakers. He zipped my sweatshirt for me like a dad helping his son get ready for school, and then leaned in close for another kiss. “You are always so good to me,” he said.

“I’m so good to you?” I laughed, incredulous. My legs were still wobbly as I tried to navigate to his front door. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”