Probe, touch

Sometimes I feel like I wage a psychological assault on a guy after I've already depleted all physical defenses and pillaged his hole.

I'm in Vegas at a conference and I've just fucked a load out of the boy.  Actually, I fucked a load out of him, pulled out and tossed the condom out to jerk out my own load while playing with him, got him hard again, and then manipulated his body with my hands until he shot off a second load.  And he's curled up in my favorite position: me on my back with him on his side, a hand intimately draped across my waist and his head resting on my chest.  Both our hearts are racing, jagged pulses thundering between our bodies like molecules bouncing off one another in boiling water, but what I notice most is the fuzz of his soft beard tickling my chest as we both breathe together in contrasting deep, even rhythmic breaths colored with a musicality that complements our position, as if we fell on a soft cloud while swaying to a slow waltz.

And as always, I'm never satisfied with scenes of serenity, firing verbal cannons that decimate the area.  I probe with questions.  Dig.  Scrape at any defenses until the soul lies bare.  And then I molest that pure form until it crumbles.

I look down at him, piercing open stare as his eyes shift up to mine and I lock in for a kill.

"You're so damn beautiful," I flatly declare as he blushes.  No reason to sweet talk him now, he thinks.  But perhaps he's wrong.

I'm not sure if eyes can tear up without any tears.  The ducts are dry, but his eyes sigh.

"What's wrong?" I ask, genuinely confused at how my compliments can do any harm.

"Nothing."  Then a pause as he struggles and deliberates on going further.  "I'm just thinking about work and Vegas."

"How so?"

My fingers dance across his back to gently encourage him further.  Delicate touches of encouragement.

We go on to talk about the work drama going on in his life.  And then the meat of things.  How he's been in Vegas for awhile now and how he's frustrated that he can't find the guys he's looking for.  Deep connections are made with visitors that leave in days.  Even the local population is largely transient.  Those that stay are often haunted by the forces that lured them to sin city in the first place.

The mood has deeply changed.  And as he drowns in his thoughts, brooding, I peer from above with open adoration and am aghast at my grotesqueness, digging and prodding so that I can touch the beauty of a guy that has given himself to me in so many ways, vulnerable, reaching in beyond my fingers to smash his sensitive core.

What's wrong with me?

I message him later to try to set up a repeat, knowing full well that I'm tempting him to a path that he sincerely would like to avoid.  He showed restraint and politely declined.  But I still get hard reading his gentle refusal, wistfully fantasizing about touching him again, inside and out.

Spark, a party

I'm not sure how big his mailing list is, but whenever I act on an invite to one of his sex parties, I never see the same face twice.  And I've always had a fun time, though the energy of each party varies with each group.  I'm in OC, visiting my parents at a time that just happens to coincide with one the of parties. Okay, so maybe it was a bit more contrived than coincidental, but I'm eager to play. It's been awhile since I've sank my inches into anyone new.  And the host of the party tries to engineer things a little too with a few simple rules: you have to undress to your undies immediately upon entering and you have to arrive within an hour of the party's start time.  Basically, you need to get there on time and be ready to play.  And the rules kinda work.  Things are a little more relaxed when everyone is on the same playing field.  Everyone's undressed so there's less time to be self-conscious about yourself when there's guys of all ages, body types there to oogle at.  And with everyone getting there at the same time, the numbers peak early allowing the laws of attraction to work and not have anyone left out.  The group self sorts into guys of like-minded interests and desires and everyone has a good time.

Except for tonight.  I arrive a good forty minutes into the party and everyone is milling about but nobody is playing.  Even in the porn room, guys are being polite with personal space, allowing for an extra empty seat inbetween.  Guys are even spacing themselves on the wall.  Everyone just outside of arms reach.

Time to ignite a spark and see if something catches.

I walk into the room and leave a wake of silent disruption, cutting through the middle of the room, breaking the gaze of the audience as they pretend to be interested in the porn and head right to an empty seat between a strikingly handsome man and a cute cub.  With enough of a pause to allow for all the eyes to settle back onto the screen, I steal a casual glance around the room and allow myself to feed on the tension of expectation to start to chub up a little.  I'm trying not to shake things up too fast.  I'm just trying to steer things into a favorable course, not hijack the attention.  Everyone has their preferences.  Things sort themselves out.  I'm not gonna force anything; I'm just trying to get to the next step.

Casual swipe of my lengthening cock which starts to strain against the white cotton trunks and it garners the attention of the handsome guy to my left as intended.  And he looks.  Long enough to establish the right amount of desire before his hand starts to knead his mound.  An almost automatic gesture before his eyes settle back onto the screen.  Brief, but enough to cue me to continue.  Our knees touch.  I feel the fuzz on my calves lightly dance across his flesh and the heat of his body before our skin actually touches.  When they do, they almost moan together as they press deeper together.  Involuntarily.  Gravity pulling two masses of heavy intention together.  Just a nudge, bringing them to within that pivotal distance where things just snap together.  Escape velocity in reverse.  

We turn to look at each other now and our foreheads fall together and we stare into each others' eyes in open lust before we start making out.  Just one long kiss before my right hand wanders over to the thigh of the cub to my right.  And out of the corner of my eye I notice that it worked.  The dominos start to fall and the action cascades to all corners of the room.  Before I know it, a tall latin with impeccably smooth skin that was formerly orbiting around just outside the group falls into place on his knees right between us.  He starts to mouth the mound of cotton and flesh before him as my handsome neighbor wastes no time in shucking his boxers off before we make out again.  I do the same, trunks around my ankles, when he moves off me and swallows my buddy down to the root in one gulp.  

I actually lose track of time as the latin stud goes back and forth between us.  I'm secretly hoping his military with the high and tight haircut and the 'stache.  I've got my arm draped over the handsome man in a bro hug (although we've sampled each other's cock, I somehow work it that we're both tops) as we make out when the latin works his way up to my ear and asks, "Wanna move to the other room and fuck?"

I may have given myself away too quickly, jumping up and leading him to the other room with a bed.  The room is empty because all the action is currently in the porn room, but I do notice a few guys following as I lead the latin over to the adjoining room.

Fuck, the guy's hot.  The tattoo that snakes around his arm like an armband accentuates the biceps and triceps, which are hard as rocks as I hold onto them.  He's a damn good kisser, too.

He produces a condom out of nowhere when we finally get on the bed and rolls it on me.  Hawking a loogie in his palm, he lubes up his hole before he starts to slide down onto my cock.  The position doesn't do much for me, especially wrapped, but I'm feeding off his energy and loving how his face contorts as hits bottom.  I grab his hips to rock him back and forth, making sure he gets it in as deeply as he can.  And he's still rock hard as he bounces up and down.  I grab his cock and start to stroke in time to the rhythm of the fuck but he starts to grab my wrist.  Fuck, I love how easily I got him to the brink of cumming.  I give him a stern look and knock his hand away as I continue to stroke him.  His eyes widen as I did so and with a direct gaze, I feel him convulse on top of me and try to snap my cock in two as his ass spasms around me.  He let's go of a healthy load that is pure thick white cream that seemingly glows in the dim light, near pitch back.  And I feel his sweat drip down onto me from his forehead.  His cum burns and cools.  His sweat a comparatively cooler wet drip of a candle made of ice and singed with the flame of white hot sexual need.

He started to giggle a little, completely out of place as the handsome guy that was beside us on the porn room started to fuck another guy that still had a white undershirt on.  He stopped himself but it started again as we cleaned up in the bathroom and as he looked at my sheepishly as I wiped his cum off me.

When I got back to the room, I noticed a bearded latin cub in the corner.  We had talked earlier in the day and I convinced him to join me at the party.  Warm friendly hug of friends that haven't seen each other in awhile, even though it was our first time meeting.  Just a touch that was seemingly out of place in the current amosphere of the room.  Casual and platonic, like the giggles of hot military armband latin I just fucked.

The new latin cub pulled back from the hug and awkwardly stared at me and smiled.  I shot him a weird look. He's a top.  Quite confident in his messages to me.  A decade younger but still pretty confident and his behavior was completely at odds with what I'm used to from him.  Apologetic eyes in response.  We're trying not to break the symphony of moans and flesh with undesired vocalizations of complete objectivity so instead partake in the room's language of touch and grunts to convey meaning and desire.

We make out and I force him into the corner where his back hits the wall with a resounding thud.  He let's me.  I take mental note of that.  He's a top that doesn't mind another guy leading the way.  In fact, his body respond quite favorably as I clutch at him and press myself onto him.  We grind against the wall and before I know it, he's precum enough to work the skin of his uncut cock quite easily over his shaft.  He produces enough to lube drench my thighs. With one of those cock that juts right out and with mine curving up, his cock starts to thrust between my thighs as I grind into him. He acts as if he's gonna push me away for a sec but I continue.  And continue.  And continue.  And he's still rock hard when my one foot slips across a wet patch on the floor.

I pull back and look at him quizically.

Apparently, I made him shoot a long time ago.  He starts to leave when another guy touches my shoulder.  Shorter guy.  Short crew cut.  And tiny.  Small in both age and stature.  And all I wanna do it fold him into me completely and consume him.

Brief head nod to the bearded latin cub as he makes his way out of the room to wash up and then all my attention is devoted to this new youngster.  Fuck, he's small.  I lose track of time again as I make out with him and we swap blow jobs.  Before I could grab him by the waist and throw him onto the bed to try to work my bare bone inside him, he bolts.  Really quick.  It's as if I offended him.  He works his way out and when I finally recover from the abrupt departure, I find him in the dining room getting dressed.  Apparently, he had to get going.  I'm completely enamoured though, so I offer him my email address to keep in touch and he's out the door.  As I work myself back into the room, I slide on a different wet patch.

Apparently, I made him shoot, too.

The room has already paired and tripled up and I'm suddenly self-conscious.  I start packing myself to leave and the host swings by to give me a hug.  It's a bit uncharacteristic of him.  But he thanks me for dropping by and with a wink asks me to swing by again for next time.  I somehow make out that he's acknowledging how I created that initial spark that got the night going, confirmed by an email the next day.  Hell, I didn't do anything.  And all I could do was hang on for the ride before the night got away from me... and left me with aching balls.

Snapshot: The deep gaze

He's made it into these pages before and we've played several times, but one of the issues is that I can't seem to cum with him.  In my head, I silently blame the cream that he uses for lube but I'm sure it goes well beyond that.

Massive king-size bed.  Over 6 feet and a solid 200+ lbs and he still looks like he's swallowed up by the bed.  We only only take a small corner of it, with his legs in the air and my cock firmly implanted into his incredibly tight hole.  My small frame does nothing to fill up the negative space on that bed.

The strange proportions don't throw him off.  In fact, it echoes with his taste in men.  He likes smaller, younger guys taking control of his body.  I've lifted him a bit off the bed by his ankles as I fucked my inches into him, full strokes so that he can feel my entire length.  Smaller deep thrusts deep inside him as I spread his cheeks to get in even deeper.  And now his furry calves scratch at my shoulders as I roll him onto himself and am driving into him with full force fucks.

That's when he notices it.  And he moans.  And he blurts out, "Fuck yeah.  Breed that hole and make it yours."  Deep booming voice.  Not quite a bass, but a deep baritone.  One that naturally projects beyond the walls even in a whisper.  I'd imagine that just the masculine voice alone would tip me over the edge.  But then you have his incredibly beefy body and broad shoulders and that ginger beard... all that subbing out for me is a thing of extreme fantasy but I can't seem to get over the hump and cum.

'Cause I know why he suddenly said that.  His pale eyes are washed in color but compensate in intensity.  His direct, confident in his gaze and his eyes never leave my face.  Never heavy-lidded.  Never unfocused, despite all the attentions I make to his other body parts to make it sing.  He watches.  And gets turned on when I my own eyes make the switch.  I'm no longer patiently empathizing with my eyes as I make that initial entry into his hole, constantly measuring my speed and angle by his body's involuntary twitches and reactions. No longer feeling him up, making him feel good.  No, I've dropped all that and his hole just makes me want to pound it harder and harder until I cum.  He searches my face for that moment, that moment where I'm no longer interacting with him on an equal level but instead objectifying him, just using him as a fuckhole.  While his still eyes are still on mine, my own lose focus and I no longer see him but I feel him, feel the warmth of his body from the inside, feel the velvet touch around my shaft.  All attention goes down to my fuck stick.

Until he says it.  And instead of actually encouraging me to fuck my load into him, his goading snaps me back to those eyes that search mine out and never break.  And the reflection of my own eyes peer back at me and I'm utterly self-conscious.  

That's when I find that I can't cum.  It's a lot to live up to.

So I flip him to his knees and jam my cock back inside him.  And I'm back to appreciating his fine body.  He has a good tan, from the top of his broad freckled shoulders down to his narrow waist that meets a contrasting, pale fuzzy ass.  Just that picture is driving me nuts.  Then I see my cock sawing into his body and that hole of his stretching over each ridge.  And then I see his hole twitch and bear down on me, a reverse ripple as his sphincter tightens up and I can't hold back and finally drop by load.

Fuck that was quick.  Further proof that it wasn't the lube.

Collapse on his back.  I'm over exerted.  Still spasming.  My body quakes in aftershocks.  Hyper sensitive.  Sweaty.  Sealed on his back.  And my heart is racing, booming and shaking my body and I can feel his quickened pulse under me as well.  Fast, excited, but not nearly as pronounced.  The mismatched rhythms bounces off each other in cacophony.  Still melted.  Still glued.  But my body moves and shimmies from liquefaction.

"I love it when you get like that.  It's intense," he says.  The mattress doesn't muffle his booming voice. 

He felt what he couldn't see in my face, that moment where I totally give in to base animalistic urges.