There wasn’t a damn thing I could do about the cum leaking out of my ass to the filthy concrete floor, except to turn around and with my tongue lick the juicy wads from the cement. Those loads were mine, they belong to me, and I fucking earned every one of them.
After eating each drop of those loads, I rolled over on my back and laughed. What a fuckin’ night!
It started with me hanging out alone, bored. And as anyone with a lick of sense knows, once that happens, it’s an open door to finding trouble. I called a buddy that I fuck with to see if he was around and wanted to maybe hit some bars, but the phone went unanswered. I cruised a couple of sites to see if there was any action, but it was quiet. There were a few hot men but mostly it was guys that didn’t flip a switch.
I figured it might be best if I just hit a sex club or leather bar but in the end, I decided to just head out for a walk and see where it took me. I threw on some trash clothes, grabbed a cockring and some poppers, and headed out the door.
I was about a half-hour from my apartment and heading downtown. Quiet Monday night, not a thing going on. As I approached some of the smaller side streets of the main drag, I noticed a guy on the sidewalk about a block ahead of me. He ducked into a building entrance. A few more seconds went by and I noticed the top of his head peeking out and then ducking back. I was now about a half a block away.
He came out and stood in full view, and damn, what a sight. Nice, tight 501s, a big fat basket and nice tribal tattoos, swarthy face, very, very hot.
I slowed my pace a bit – well, more than a bit, I basically stopped dead in my tracks. My cock stood at full attention in a second, and I just knew this guy would be one hell of a time.
“You lookin’ to party?” he says.
Now, no matter how fuckin’ hot this man was, I just didn’t pay for sex as a rule. As a matter of fact, my bank account just wasn’t up for it.
“No thanks, buddy, I can’t afford it right now,” I said.
He looked down at the bulge in my jeans and said, ‘Well, it looks like you are.” He looked me straight in the eye and said, “What about just fuckin’ around? I live right here.” He laughed and added. ‘No charge. Honest.”
My dick responded my leaking a nice stream of precum which spotted my jeans.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Come on up.”
We walked up three flights to his place. At the door to his apartment, his stopped and said, “Do you party?”
“Yeah, sometimes. It depends.”
I walked in and right there in the living room was a sling, rim chair and a massive wooden chair that stood on a small platform which had holes in the bottom. This guy seriously loved sex if this was his living room!
He then asked me if I wanted to slam. The thought of it made me drool – slamming with this hot motherfucker, wow, what did I just walk into? I said I’d only done it a couple of times but didn’t have the big rush everybody always talks about. He said, well, it must have been shitty stuff. I can make sure you have some fun.
So he mixed the shit in front of me, got the rigs ready and then stood me up in front of him and said, “I have some things you’d probably look really good in.” He walked into an adjoining room and came back with a rank, stained jock and a couple of other things, but I could not take my eyes off the man. The idea of doing this… with this man… well, it was overwhelming.
He sat me down, pulled off my pants, and put my boots back on my feet. Then he slipped on that rank jock, squeezing my cock and balls, which jumped in his hands. I watched while he did the same for himself and then took out a big cigar, ashtray and some water in a jug.
“Ready, fucker?” he asked. My eyes said it all. He came forward and tied me off, found a nice, fat vein, and pushed in the needle. I watched, completely fascinated, as he pulled back the plunger. There was the red flash, and in it went. He took off the tourniquet and said, “Hang on, fucker!”
I coughed, and simply seemed to become breathless. There was a moment of panic but then I was flooded with it, begging him, almost incoherent. I went to my knees in front of him. He did himself quickly, and when he pushed in his hit he looked at me like a fuckin’ demon.
“Get the fuck over here, pig!” He made me crawl along the floor toward him. He sat down in the large chair and said, “Get that mouth around this cock.” I was rushing hard – really hard – and I could feel myself getting wet. I opened my mouth and sucked in that semi-hard, dripping cock. He put a hand on my head and guided me while I moaned and slurped up his cock. He was talking the whole time, calling me his fuck boy, telling me just what might be in store for me. All I knew was that I could not wait to get his cock in my hole.
For the next couple of hours he put me through my paces. I was poked, prodded, slapped, flogged, and made to lick his boots while he smoked his great big stogie. I was forced to lick his nice, ripe ass, to eat his hole, and then he put a hood on me and force-fed me his cock.
While I was at his feet, licking his boots, he made a phone call to a buddy.
“Come on, fucker, we’re going to visit a friend of mine. You’re too good of a pig to keep all to myself.”
He forced me into a flight suit, grabbed a few things and put them in a bag. In a couple of minutes, we were on the way to his buddy’s house. Once we were there, he pulled a collar out of the bag and put it around my neck.
“Be real nice to my friend, boy, if you know what’s good for you.”
