Flesh, not flesh

So looks like I got to play with a pervy conservative afterall.  

After getting blueballed the other day (it was actually a couple weeks ago, but I've just been behind in posts), I had browsed craigslist and found a guy that simply wanted to jerk off with a fleshlight.  He didn't have one.  He just wanted to find a guy that did so that he could try it out.  "Str8".  Married.  Late-twenties.  And as I had suspected, we both can't host except for every now and then and it just takes awhile for schedules to line up to seize the opportunity.  It was a good exchange, though.  Every now and then you meet a guy that's really eager and then in the middle of the afternoon he says he can host and wants you there now and then when you tell them "Can't now, but how about tomorrow evening after work?" they lose interest and would rather repost over and over again on CL.  This guy was different in that he'd actually say "Maybe, lemme check in tomorrow" and he actually would check in and it usually didn't work out and back and forth until just last week when I happened to be working form home and had the place to myself and he had a lunch break to pop on by.

And I wasn't expecting the guy that showed up to my door.  We hadn't traded any pics.  What can I say?  My standards are pretty low for jerking off with another guy.  But it all kinda made sense.  Vast generalizations that may or may not be true but he totally fell into the archetype of the repressed young republican.  Soft auburn hair that was parted and swooped over his forehead, baby-blue work shirt lightly starched with a traditional tie that was bold only by the quiet nuance of strong color juxtaposition of stripes.  Not that I'm making fun of the way he dressed (he was a helluva good-looking guy and the clothes fit well) but it like even a narrow collar or the slightly tailored flat-front pant at banana republic would be too risque.  So not buying a fleshlight of his own?  Totally get it.  Wouldn't be fitting for a guy like him to even admit he knew what it was, let alone own one.  And the way he sprung a boner through his trousers after just seeing me strip my shirt off, well, I don't think he's so straight as he claims either.

He'd bolt if I took it too fast, so I let him lead.  Gave him lube, the fleshlight, popped in some bi porn...  I just stripped and stroked off on my bed while he did his thing.  And I could tell he was wrestling with something.  And that's what totally gets me off.  Good lookin guy.  Great build.  Nice 7" cock that stuck straight out solid.  But it's figuring him out that really intrigues me.  Figuring out what's in his head.

"So that's the thing with the fleshlight," I tell him.  "It feels nice, but in the end you're still jacking yourself off.  You still need that extra feedback that's not in your control, ya know?  Here.  Let me hold it for you."

And I did.

He started a slow fuck that built up in seconds and just after a few thrusts with me holding it, his breath was getting jagged and he looked me in the eye before they suddenly unfocused and he shot his load.

Poor kid.  He hightailed it outta there before I could even get off my bed.  Lots going on his head.  And I knew that he wanted more.  But I'm patient.  He'll be back.

I fucked in his cum afterwards and added my load to the fleshlight.

Storyless today

For those that were wondering about my cock...

Must love dogs

I had forgotten that he wrote "must love dogs" in his profile on Growlr, but it came back to me when I heard fierce barking from the other side of the door when I rang the doorbell. On the other side, was a small dog that, after I stepped over the threshold, vigorously wagged her tail and contented itself to lie on my foot as I gave her a tummy rub.

Her owner had a towel wrapped around himself from the morning shower. After banishing the pup and locking ourselves into his bedroom, I found that he liked his fuzzy belly rubbed too. And his fuzzy ass. Especially with my cock. In fact it didn't take long for me to rub a load out of him while my dick was sawing in and out of his ass.

When we emerged from the bedroom, the pup was there. She immediately ran to the other room and grabbed a toy. Apparently it's now her time to play with me.

Snowball. Boundaries

I've dubbed him TooFarCub since he lives the opposite direction of where I usually go to get to the gym or to play ball or meet up with friends, making it hard to meet up. But I'm always glad that I make the trip out there. He silently gives me permission to take things to a darker side. I can't tell if that's because he has a girlfriend and I'm the only guy he plays with, fooling himself by saying that I'm such a good find (I'm really not, though, cause he's cute and charming and can attract a bunch of guys if he wants to) that he has to do everything needed to please me and keep my interest, or if he truly likes his boundaries being pushed. In the past, I've played his nips, working them up harder and harder until he came hands free with me gnawing viciously at his nubs. He's a quick trigger and I often fuck the cum out of him first and then keep on fucking him harder and harder until I cum even as his face contorts in pain being hyper sensitive after cresting. I've pissed on him, play choked him, slapped him around a bit. And this time, I treated him to a blowjob... But only did so to get his load in my mouth and see his reaction when I snowballed it back to him and making him swallow his own load before fucking him mercilessly until I came.

But no matter how much I abuse him and make him cringe or leave aftershocks of tenderness (funny how that word can mean showing gentle care or being sore as fuck... I'm referring to the latter of course) the next day, he always emails asking for more. No, scratch that, he literally begs for it.

Parallel lines don't meet

I match my speed to that of my prey for better chances at sealing the deal. So if he messages me on Grindr with common courtesies and pleasantries, then I match the pace and engineer subtle ways to veer the conversation to a favorable course. And sometimes it doesn't even get there as you can tell things are mismatched and never gonna work. But when a guy tells me he's horny after I just say hello, then I'm gonna ramp up and accelerate to the finish line. Sure, you need to exchange some words to find out of if you're simpatico, complements, tongue and groove fittings and like minded whores looking for a quick fix but there's really no need to direct the action before it has even begun. What's the fun of acting out the scene to a completed script. What about the mystery of the hookup? In the end, you're going to at best get only what you're expecting. That is the upper limit. But the experience could always fall short. Meanwhile, I like to leave some room for chance. The chance that he can defy expectations and reach beyond the upper bounds of what I had in mind and simply blow it away.

So I'm at work way early. Early enough to either get breakfast or have someone for breakfast and I pop up Grindr and see this hot guy in a conservative shirt and tie, executive library background and I'm a little intrigued. Even more intrigued when I basically get him pining for my dick in his ass after a mere hello. That yin yang contrast of conservative looks and a dirty mind always kinda alluring. So I didn't think anything of it to ask for an address after a quick exchange of dirty pics. But he stalls. Asks for more details about what I'm into. What positions I like. What clothes I wear. What I eat for dinner, my opinions on the theory of relativity. I'm getting red flags, but the li'l guy that's straining my pants wins out and I continue to entertain his inquisition. Until I finally get tired and all the dirty talk actually does the opposite of what he intends and gets me completely soft. So I lay my cards down and tell him I think he's jerking me around and again ask for an address. I get a vague street name. Then an intersection. He'll give me more details as I get there to protect his safety. I don't quite get it, but the li'l guy perks up and I fall for it even though my head is screaming no. And of course, when I get there, he starts in on the dirty talk and questions. I'm literally a block away from you! Pull the trigger!

By the way, the street was that part of Venice (CA) where you have million dollar homes next to marijuana dispensaries and dilapidation not yet torn down for the young professionals of Silicon Beach. The same oxymoronic juxtapositions like a perv in republican garb (or maybe that's more redundant than oxymoronic these days).

He stalls again. And despite us laying everything out in playing bare and what position he'll be in, what lube he'll be using, what's gonna be playing, what lighting technique he's using, what's gonna be on his fucking dresser drawer and sheets done up in origami shapes for fuck's sake, he then changes the terms and wants to play safe. Which is fine. No big deal usually but he doesn't have condoms and I didn't have any on me and he knew I had left them behind and now he wants me to go to the pharmacy and get some.

Fuck that. I'm not gonna do all that for him to just block me before I get to his door.

Big head won out and I typed: forget it.

Little head threw a tantrum.

Conversation with a twerk

As much as I like to write, the exchange of words always trips me up. My mouth doesn't hit backspace as easily as my fingers. So I'm always enraptured by silent communications, body manipulations to exchange ideas. Let me show you what fun feels like, what a beautiful hurt is, and how need tingles across the skin. So I pull all my past experiences, surprises both positive and negative and let my fingers, hands, limbs, cock dance across another's bodily keyboard and I wait for the reply. And this time, he replies back with his own ideas and thoughts and feelings showing me a new road I've never seen.

The boy's a twerker. Over six feet of solid beef. You can tell the weight bench in the corner of the room isn't a useless hoarder's decoration but an object of utility. Late twenties smooth body Latin with nipples that respond favorably to attention, protruding and begging for it really. Rounded muscular shoulders that extend beyond the expanse of his back and accentuating the slim waist... Down to the perfect bubble butt. I mean, nice round globes that are firm but yet jiggle. Just plain beautiful and perfect.

After teasing his hole, he motions for me to stay still. Instead of just backing up into me, he twerks and little by little his hole accepts more and more of my cock until I'm buried balls deep. The visual of his ass bouncing in front of me. The feel of the vibrations against my cock and his two perfect globes bounce off each other. His tight hole contracting and relaxing. And then this amazing velvet feel of my cock getting thrown around deep in his ass hitting against glans I've never felt before...

Then he stops. My turn now. And I just lay a fierce assault on his ass before slowing to a long stroke deep. Shallow thrusts feeling the head of my dick opening his outer ring. Handling his globes apart and using the head to probe and tease the inner ring.

Back to him. Him showing how he can milk a cock. Then me showing how I can please a hole. Back and forth, a conversation of discovery until he can't handle it anymore and begs for my load and I deliver it deep. Just as I cum, I bury myself as deep as I can and he can feel me pulse shot after shot into him.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me cum," he announces and as I come down from my own orgasm, I feel his start and the quivers around the base of my cock. He cums hands free. If I hadn't cum earlier that day, that would have set me off again.

Glancing back at me, the only thing I could do is stupidly peer at his scruffy face and chuckle at how amazing that was.

Piercing

I didn't notice it before. I was too busy enraptured by the boy's skill. He's aggressive maybe. Eager. Enthusiastic. Passionate. Or maybe he just really wants my load and is trying to coax it out of my cock with his throat as fast as possible. He's on his way to work afterall. But what I didn't notice was that he's pierced. And not the usual place either. Not a PA. Not a guiche piercing. Not the frenulum. It's actually his sack, near the base of the cock. Just noticing it now since he stood up to present me his goods to suck.

I peer up at him.

Stocky, mildly fuzzy. He kisses hard with the same wild abandon and frenetic energy as when he sucks cock. In fact, it kinda throws me off my game. And when he speaks, it's with a deep, smokey growl that makes my cock stiffen.

His hardon seems to have wilted a bit, though as I peer up at him as he presents his cock to me for sucking. And I take him down my throat, using my tongue to undulate across the underside, my cheeks hollowing out as I suck him deeper, I slowly feel his cock start to respond. It's just not responding as fast as I'd like and I'm pretty sure I know why. As I'm running through my rolodex of nifty techniques on his cock, my tongue, throat and mouth all busy, I'm still destracted: there's got to be a name for that type of piercing...

Ideal illusions

We're playfully giggling under the covers like a couple of teenaged girls at a slumber party.

"You're so cute.  You're like my little gingerbread man.  I'd put little gumdrop buttons on you and..."

I interrupt him.  Sternly.  Sorta.

"Boy, I'll cut you.  With my little gingerbread knife!"  And I trace an incision from ear to ear with my index finger.  Of course, as his permanent five o'clock shadow scratches at my finger, I get heavy lidded with sexual lust.  Fuck, I love his scruff.

"But then," I continue, "the knife will crumble without effect but to make a mess in this bed."  I hold a wry grin for a second.  Theatrics.  Interweaving the macabre with the frivolous, sexual and comic.

He laughs, but then a pregnant pause.  And with a wistful sigh, "Why can't I find a guy like you.  A SINGLE guy like you.  You're perfect."

I try not to do it.  Not to utterly destroy the underlying compliment he's paying me.  But I can't help pointing out the cognitive dissonance.  Nicely.  I tiptoe around to my point.

"But I'm not sure if things were different we'd really get together."  He's still lost in his fantasy so I feel like it's safe to continue as he probably won't hear a word of what's coming next. "I mean, we're both tops.  And while I'm a dog in that I'm a total fucking whore, you're one in that you're completely loyal."

We've been play buds for years now.  And we've never had penetrative sex.  We pretty much just rub our cocks on each other.  Really long, hard frot sessions that sometimes end without either of us cumming.  And other times it ends with him leaving me drenched in his cum.  Literally drenched.  The fucker can shoot, and shoot repeatedly long heavy ropes of cum.  But the reason why we don't have full on fuck session is out of his respect for my relationship. Or rather out of respect for what he thinks a relationship should be like in his head, this idealized monogamous complement of souls.  And I don't fight it because I still like the kid.  He's a perfect little pocket muscle cub.  And I don't quite mention that an intimate relationship we're having is probably much more adulterous than if we were actually full-on fucking each other without these little intimate moments.

He babbles for a bit and we somehow orchestrate a fluid dance under the sheets so that we're spooning.  I'm the big spoon.  And as my hands dance across his fuzzy chest, pulling him back closer to my chest, he somehow manages to talk himself into thinking I'm the perfect mate again.  I don't fight him on that anymore.  I kinda just revel in that compliment and revel in how our bodies are complements and my cock responds.  It jumps and hardens against his fuzzy mounds as I hug him even closer to my smooth chest.  A second twitch from my cock that strains even harder against his ass.  He responds by backing his ass closer to me.

And although I can feel his body, smell his sweet musk that intermingles perfectly with a very light scent of cologne, and even taste the heat that emanates from his body.  I also understand that what I'm holding onto and hugging so close to by body is just an illusion, a fantasy.  And that's perfectly fine.

The enigma

It's really late. We've been in bed for a couple of hours now and the hair on his shoulders are tickling my nose a bit, making me smile.

"Oh, my top, my top, mytop, mytop..." I've already fucked him once and loaded his ass. And have also shot another dribble on his balls. He's shot an equal amount of times, and each time was a lightening bolt streak of cum flying out and illuminating the world with white liquid radiance. And I'm not sure what he's trying to say. I'm not even fucking him. He's just repeating it over and over as I'm idly jerking him off and then he shoots again. This time it splatters up my arm and a couple drops hit my bicep. The next shot is launched farther and I can hear it land on the pillow next to my head.

"Fuck," I sigh. And I let my own load go as he tugs. Just a few dribbles. I'm tapped out. If we go for another round, I know I'm gonna be shooting blanks.

I roll onto my back and catch my breath. And out of nowhere, I utter softly, "You're a complete enigma..."

I wasn't talking about his chant right before he came and how I couldn't tell what was going on in his head. It's also because he's one of maybe two fuck buds that I know that are single and consider themselves on the DL. He lives in what I've heard is now dubbed the marina arts district and has artsy job but is insanely in the closet and I can see walls that he puts up everywhere both in his professional life and his personal so that the two don't intermingle. But I get glimpses of a really sensitive man. And a guy that's turned on by fucking someone that's involved, and that's aggressive, but loves to sub out. It's partly because we've probably only said ten words out loud to each other since we've known each other. The preferred method of communication is text and the vague clues on context and meaning from that technology. I've managed to at least get an understanding of a guy after meeting them six or seven times.

He baffles me. And that's really intriguing.

And I drift off to sleep listening to the music that he has in the background. A unique playlist that's doesn't delight in indie elitism, but is personally crafted to be restrained. Definitely a playlist of his creation. That makes sense. And that's my last thought as I doze, his goo drying on my arm.

Unabashed honesty

So I'm in Texas and a guy I played with the other day finds me on Grindr and asks if I got any more ass. I'm never sure of people's intentions when they ask that. Sometimes it's a way of asking how much of a slut you are. Other times, it's a like-minded pig wanting to swap stories. And then it can also be a question leading to an invite over. I decided that to promote a culture of sex-positive honesty, I'd answer completely unrestrained. My answer? That there wasn't much interest in me... and that I've been getting the "oh, you're asian not interested" thing a bit when I send them a face pic. There was a long pause after that. Then he says, "but at least you've got a big dick". Um. Ok. Ha! (And I guess things aren't all that much bigger in Texas cause I'm quite average...)

Beautifully awful

When I opened the door, I wanted to fall to my knees and weep 'cause he was so beautiful. Just an inch or two shorter than me but with shoulders as broad as he was tall. Buzzed hair. Clear blue eyes. Just the right amount of scruff after a long day. And a tattoo on his arm reminding him and every man he shakes hands with to seize the day.

Hollywood good looks, really.

But that's where the chemistry stops. Awkwardly shifts from foot to foot, this "straight" married guy that was begging to be fucked was just gonna use me as a human dildo. No eye contact. Didn't want to kiss. Wanted the experience without giving anything of him in return.

He rode me reverse cowboy and wrapped. Probably the worse combination for me, so I started to take control and bent him over, getting out from under him in one move to start to pounding the fuck out of him doggie-style. He stopped me. Telling me to go easy. I'm hitting it too deep. Then he's bucking back against me trying to get deeper.

Fuck, it'd be so much easier if I could actually look into your eyes (or at least feel your hole and how it's responding, but the condom was kinda killing the sensation..) I was going floppy fast.

Tossed him onto his back, one leg on the shoulder and then I was fucking it into him. And he moaned. At this point, I just wanted the satisfaction of making him cum. He was only at half mast but I had it in my head that he needs to know that he wants dick and he's gonna cum from it. I'm gonna make him realize he's a fuckin' bottom bitch.

I manipulated his floppy as I pounded it into him and a drop of cum few out of his cock. It surprised him. He started to apologize and then I just pounded him harder and he let out a moan and then, "ohfucki'mgonnacumi'mgonnacumi'mcummingohfuckohfuck." I didn't let up until he squirted the last shot off his dick at half mast.

End to end, even with cleanup, he was at my place for 15 minutes. As my twitter bud pointed out, the pretty ones could be so much better in bed if they realized that it takes more than to just merely show up. Sex is best as a two-way conversation played out by the flesh.

The good mess

"Stop it," I tell him calmly. "You're way more concerned about it than I am." He's running at me with washcloth while I'm just trying to calm down from the high of cumming. I barely shot moments before.

"I know, I know. But, you're a mess. It's one thing to look at it but..." His voice trailed off. I think he was telling me that if the tables were reversed, he'd be scraping the caustic organic liquid off him with a scouring pad.

We had swapped head for nearly an hour. A thing of beauty. Considerably thick. Like a 6x8 cock instead of an 8x6. Quite a mouthful and just the perfect length so that I'm not quite gagging when I deep throat him. Cock-ringed and angry red, thrusted out insisting on constant attention.

And he was equally enraptured by mine. I think I was an inch longer at most, but he loved handling it and trying to get it balls deep. I basically dickmetized him for a bit and ended up getting the head in his hole before he snapped out of it and asked me to stop. He wanted it. I knew he wanted it.

But I ended up just fingering him as he stood in front of me. One hand massaging his balls and a finger caressing and pressing his prostate and the other jerking him with slow deliberate strokes. He shot all over me. And all over his couch. About 7 longs sprays of thick white cum splashing all around me. Right, left, an ooze down my fingers before another volley at my face. After he came, it only took me a few quick tugs before I unleashed three or four additional volleys up my chest.

I had barely taken two breaths before he was rushing to clean me up.

Fucker. I wanted to just wallow in the filth for awhile. Or at least taken a pic or something. I wanted to grab his wrist before the washcloth was wiping all over me. Grab it to use it to turn him around and then give him a giant bear hug from behind to paint his back with our cum.

But I was civil and just merely shook my head from side to side with a wry grin as he wiped me up, delicately, gently. He was blushing all the while.

Mounds of fuzz

The weight of my body on his back made him sigh. He's driven several miles over the course of a couple of days and his body needed some attention from the abuse. His back is fuzzy. In fact all of him is fuzzy. Glorious fur all over. Soft, even coat.

My fingers dance over the top like wind over prarie grass, blowing each follicle this way and that, letting the root system send signals deep under the skin to his brain. Then an exploding palm spreading heat, alternating with fingers of close proximity trying to bend the airwaves between each strand of hair straining like antennae to receive a signal.

I'm exploring. His sides are sensitive, he almost jerks when my fingers reach his arm pits, but then they instantly relax and he sighs a moan. His head jerks back when the stubble on my chin rests in the valley between his strong shoulders, causing his back to arch and his ass to lift in that perfect moment that my cock flexes.

But I delay that and alternate from soft caresses to blunt pressure of my palm and arm across his back to a thumb poking at the knots that are aching to be untied. And when I get to his ass, I lose composure. I stare at it for a brief moment, my hands holding his two globes apart while his hole expectantly twitches and then I all but fall into the crevice. Less swan dive and more face plant. I'm hungry and I can't believe the feast he's serving. My tongue swirls, laps, curly cues to broad swipes, and my nose can't get enough of his musk. And so my nose works lower and deeper until it is buried in his ass and I start to pass out from the lack of oxygen. Suck. Chew. And then he all but yelps when he feels my stubble rake across his hole as I move up. Up his cleft, up that valley from the bottom of his spine up to his shoulders. Abated breath. And then a deep contented sigh when I let the weight of my hips fall down onto him and the blunt head of my cock hits squarely against his hole.

And I enter him.

Almost: The young trucker

So, I can't tell if it's me or just the weird expectations of a 22 year-old.

On paper, he's a helluva find.  A young, cubbish scruffy trucker.  Like big-rig trucker.  Big fantasy of mine ever since I read (an early version of what is now known as) a blog about this trucker dude that drives around the country naked in his rig and finds guys to fuck around with.  The kid's another top, but he's willing to flip.  We make arrangements to meet and set a time.  But then that time has come and gone and I've been waiting around the approximate location of where we're to meet and finally gave up and texted a fuck buddy that I knew in the area for a quick pump and dump.  Two hours after we were supposed to meet, he messages saying his phone died and he's ready to meet. I couldn't.  And he gets all frustrated that I wouldn't meet him and saying he always gets jerked around with flakes.

Wait!  How am I the flake?!

And then to top it all off, we basically ended the conversation saying that he was leaving town the next day and we couldn't reschedule. Two days later, I get a message saying that he just left and that he's sad I didn't text him to see if he was still available to meet. 

"How was I supposed to know that you're still in town?  Last thing you told me was that you're leaving the next day," I messaged.

"Well, you could have at least texted to see if I was still around."

Really?  I'm supposed to chase you to the point of harassment and try read your mind?

Argh...

Housekeeping: New resolution

So, I've decided to try to post something every day.  Just because.  I'm not trying to read too much into it.  Part of me thinks it's because I'm trying to get more followers.  Another part of me realizes that this writing thing has become a chore and is hoping if I make it a routine then it will get easier and my perspective on it will change.  And another part of me thinks it's because I have so many half-stories and notes that I really just want to brag about my conquests.

But a post every day.  And for those days where I haven't written, I'll probably share a pic.  A bit of a departure from my style, but it's still true to what I like: blogs with just the occasional commercial porn but more original content.  Because there's just something hot and subversive about people that are intertwine their personal lives with something ostensibly sexual... if that makes sense.  It's not just a fantasy but something more tangible.

Snapshot: Hurt

He balls his hand into a fist and thumps it against my chest.  Once.  Twice.  Not knuckles, but the pinky side.  The way you'd slam your fist down against a table for emphasis.

"Owowowow.  You fucker.  Owwwww..."

I feel his spasming ass loosen for just a second.  Less than a second.  The microsecond which is all I need to capitalize on and slam the remaining inch of my cock deep in his ass.

"Oh, you fucker!"  Thump.  Thump.  Another couple of punches that don't have much weight or force behind it.  It could be because he's in a compromising position and doesn't have much leverage using his hands, him on his back with his legs forced back: one on my shoulder as I'm leaning into him and the other on his side as I push it back by the ankle.  But he's twice my size.  I know that if he really did want me to stop, he could easily buck me off.  I've played with enough tops to know when I'm going too fast, that involuntary flinch that you can feel coming from the core that forces you off... and out.  

No, he wanted it.

The theatrics are aligned with what I know about him.  One moment he's complaining about something and then he suddenly smiles big and creepy, his eyes a little too wild with a "but how you're doing?!"  He speaks and gesticulates in exclamation points.  And he has an interesting gait: a pouty walk that makes each step look like a chore but at the same time his upper body glides from side to side.

"That's GREAT!!"

"Fantastic!!!" 

Eyes still big and kinda creepy.  Then back to normal speech.

He definitely doesn't bottom often.  That's not an act.  I can feel his pulse throbbing around his swollen hole with me just taking a pause right there, buried to the hilt.  He's not trying to milk me.  That's not just muscles contracting around my cock.  Those are engorged blood vessels throbbing and pulsing in his puffy hole.

I start to fuck and he finally realizes he's holding his breath.  He lets it all out and then starts sobbing at the intake of his next breath.

Hyperventilating.

"Fuck..." soft airy shout.  Gasp.  Exhale.

And he's hard as a rock.  I'm watching it flail in the air in time with my thrusts.  I don't think he's gonna last long, so I will myself to shoot.  I grasp his cock and fuck him in long deliberate strokes so he can feel every inch and simultaneously slam the last quarter of the way each time to get in as deep as I can.  It's insane, but his hole contracts even more and I can tell cum that's boiling in his balls are being launched and just as he does, my cock breaks through that tight inner ring and I unload.  Fuck, I love it when a bottom shoots... especially when I'm riding out my own orgasm.

The next day, he texts me that his hole is still swollen and hurts.  My dick gets hard reading that.  And his next message he sends before I could reply requests a repeat.

Apparently, a good hurt.

Quick-ish romp with geyser otter dude

It was supposed to be a quickie and I suppose it was.  We're both in Vegas for the same work conference and I felt like a stalker, having seen him pop up on a couple of the apps and hitting him up on each one.  But the persistence paid off one morning when we were both up early and decided that a quick blowjob was in order before the conference started.

He's handsome.  And tall.  So tall that I am about to stand on my toes before I just grab his head with two hands and pull him down to meet me in a deep kiss.  His kisses are nice.  They respond and search out like his eyes do I pull back and smile.  I stare at him with open lust.  His eyes seek out in a different way.  They question, they inquire.  They're not sure why the kiss ended and seek answers.  And behind it all, I can see how they seek to please.

So I answer.

"Fuck, you're breathtakingly hot."

Immediately the eyes refocus and the moment breaks as he struggles to verbalize the absurdity of my statement, anything to deflect the attention away for as much as he delights in the praise, he's far more comfortable with the tables turned and him trying to do his best to measure up and to serve.  But I pull him back before he can pull away too far and kiss him again, the fuzz on his face scratching at my skin.  Hundreds of pin pricks on my face, piercing in different angles around my face as our mouths moves to a rhythm they both create freely, autonomously.  As his beard stabs me, I hold his head again and press him closer, the burn of his scruff coalesce as the individual follicles orchestrate themselves to smother my insistent need to consume him.

I paw at his clothes.  We are short on time, after all.  And I liberate him piece by piece.  A nice polo.  Denim in a fashionable colored wash, tailored perfectly to his body in a way that was neither garishly tight nor unseemingly loose but instead was smartly modern.  I work my shirt off myself before I pull back and he stands before me naked, fidgeting and fighting the urge to fold his arms self-consciously, feeling utter exposed as I work my shoes and pants off slowly while openly appreciating the form before me.

We're about the same age.  His salt and pepper scruff neither unruly nor perfectly groomed stand in deep contrast to his deep, thick black hair carefully sculpted on his head, even at this early hour in the morning in his hotel room.  He's naturally and moderately hairy.  An otter.  All natural.  Slim, average build that makes me want to pounce.  Just all around naturally beautiful, completely masculine in a way that rejects commercial appeal of muscle-bound sculptures.

I spin him around and whisper into his ear, "Show me your bed."

I push him so he's falling backward onto his bed before I fall onto him again.  His long legs naturally wrap themselves around me as I kiss him and tongue his neck, chew on his shoulders.  I work my way down until my lips are mere millimeters above his cock, and it pulses and strains as it feels my breath on it.  My tongue dances on the length, the tip, the hole, before I fully suck it down my throat.  But after a few laps, I feel it start to wane.  I tongue his balls and his cock jerks.  I work my self lower and lower and then my tongue flicks across his hole, causing him to jerk violently away.  A shock of electricity.  It looked like he was in pain.  His breathing ragged, he willed himself to relax.  And when he does, another flick of the tongue.  An equal response, but from his balls.  They tighten up and I could see his dick surge back to full mast.  And as I tongued his hole in circles, lapping, licking, and flicking, I can feel his legs start to relax and fall to the sides.  I start to tongue some spit into him before pressing my mouth around his hole and sucking it till it puckered.  He nearly lost it when I then used my chin.  I just shaved, but I knew it'd be a different texture nevertheless.

I pull back, put his legs on my shoulders, and with considerable effort trying to wrangle a guy a good half foot taller and equally heavier, I lift and scoot him up the bed, letting my pulsing cock rest its length across his hole when I lean in for a kiss.  I can feel him groan as we swap spit and I slide across his hole, mock fucking him.  And when I thought he was ready, I changed the angle and the tip of my cock hit squarely against his hole.  And then another lightening bolt jolted him from me.  I pull back and stare into his eyes.  His breath ragged again.  And I see that look in his eyes again.  That questioning look and the eagerness to please behind it.  When I saw that, his legs went limp on my shoulders and he let out a deep sigh, a sigh that I used to push my cock in.

Fuck, he's tight.  But with my head popped just inside his hole, I felt hundreds of new sensations.  A warmth that pulled me in.  A slickness that wasn't just my spit on his hole.  Muscles that contracted and relaxed.  When I hit the bottom, I just rested there for a moment, luxuriating in being inside him.  Watching him intently.  We rock a bit, micro angles of change.  I wanted him to feel me inside him, probing him deep, all corners.  Not just me sawing into his ass.

But as much as he grasped at me from his hands and his hole, his eyes snapped back to me and in an inaudible whisper, he says, "I... can't..."

I understood.  I wasn't hurting him.  He was rock hard.  And he wanted to, but he just didn't want to fuck raw.  I acquiesced, but was greedy and pulled out really slowly.

I get off the bed and order him to turn around so that his head was hanging off the end.  Slapping my cock against his face, I feel his scruff on my balls and moaned loudly.  He loved hearing that and started to lap at my balls.  And he's still rock hard.  Pulling back, I aim my cock at his lips and he understood exactly what I intended.  Hell, I'm pretty sure he knew what I wanted when I asked him to flip around.  It didn't take much instruction.

With little coaxing, I went ass to mouth and assaulted his throat with my cock.

Fuck, he lovea that.  He's so damn hard.  Pulsing in the air and waving all around with the violence of my face fuck.

Spit on my hand and grabbed his cock.  It took very little before he shoots ropes of cum everywhere.  Amazing arcs of white fluid erupting with such velocity I wondered if I should be wearing goggles to protect the eyes.  When I felt like he finished, I drop his cock and pull mine from his mouth and give it a quick few yanks.  The sight of the sheets, his chest, everything messy with cum and the smell of it wafting up to my nose makes me shoot.  And he opens his mouth the accept the load I had to offer.

I glance over at the clock.  We somehow managed to play for three-quarters of an hour.  We have about five minutes to make the morning sessions of our conference.  On my way out, I make small talk with a guy (also a conference attendee) on the same floor while waiting for the elevator.  I'm pretty sure it's obvious that I wasn't coming from my room, the way I fumbled to find my way around.  This isn't my hotel.  And I'm riding fucking high after blowing my load, so I don't really care.