FelchingPisser

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Chicago—September, 2013 Once again I was lucky enough to attend the piss party in Chicago. I was one of the first in the back bar. I stripped down, added my yellow jock and put my second best boots back on. I checked my bag, and I needed to piss—NOW! No one is quite ready to play. There are no pigs on their knees in the dark corners by the video screen. Everyone is still changing. I fill my water bottle back up from the huge cooler on the bar. Wait a minute. There is a man in the inflatable pool. He is wearing a white cloth jock and flip-flops. He lies down, disappearing from view. By the time I get to him, he has his cock out of his jock and is pissing a long stream straight up into his own mouth. I watch, until his stream is no longer powerful enough to reach his lips. I move around so I’m right behind his head. I piss directly into his open mouth. In a flash he is gulping and stroking his cock furiously. I direct some of my piss stream down to his hardening dick. His erection grows into a nice fistful. I bring my stream down across his chest and concentrate the rest back into his mouth. As I finish, he thanks me. Two others have arrived to hose him down. I take a slug of my water and go find a cocksucker. I move around behind the partitions. I sit on the ledge and watch the video, stroking my dick into hardness. In no time I have a man pissing on my cock then sucking it off. Then another man pisses on the sucker as he continues sucking my cock. The sucker switches to the new pisser, getting the last few drops in his mouth. I now have a new sucker taking me to the root. He kneels in front of me... ***** I am in the back corner. I am on my knees. A Cub is feeding me piss. I am gurgling and swallowing happily. When he finishes, I start sucking his cock in earnest. A bear of a man is watching us. He starts pissing on the Cub’s cock as I suck it. I re-double my efforts. When the Bear finishes pissing, I stand up. I kiss the Cub, feeding him the remainder of the Bear’s piss which I’ve kept in my mouth. We kiss, clinging to each other, damp and hot. We pull the Bear into a three way kiss—tongues jousting for dominance. The Bear sinks to the floor. He takes both our dicks in his mouth. We push our cock heads together. I start to piss. It shoots out over the Cub’s flared cock head and is swallowed by the Bear. When I run out, it’s the Bear’s turn to stand and bring some of my piss up to our two mouths. We kiss and suck. Spit and swab. Tongues switching mouths. Kissing and swapping fluids. ***** It’s the last hour of the party. I fill my water bottle again. I realize, that not only have I not fucked anyone, I have not seen anyone fuck during this entire party. It’s odd. But I don’t really care since I am having so much fun. ***** I have found a young man in a rubber jock. He is hot and new to this group. He has never been anywhere where you can piss so openly. We are swapping piss, allowing others to splash us as we play. We suck each other’s cocks. I turn him around. He grabs the ledge. My face is in his furry ass crack. I lick the wet, matted hair, digging into his tight pucker. He groans. I pull his full cheeks apart. I spit right on his hole. I force my tongue into him. He groans louder. From somewhere to my right, a stream of piss is aimed right at the top of his ass crack. I keep tonguing his hole, and swallowing most of the waterfall of piss. Some I push up his ass. He’s whimpering. Calling me a “His dirty piss Daddy.” Another stream of piss starts from the other side. I can’t swallow fast enough. I gag a little, but won’t back off. The first stream plays out. I spit a huge mouthful of piss over the boy’s back. I can feel him spasm under me. He’s gotten himself off. I turn him around gently and clean his cock. I stand. We kiss. My hard cock pokes into his six-pack. I want him to get me off. But he’s done. I go off on the prowl. ***** A trio of men are at the back corner. One is showering the other two. I join them. I can piss once more. The third guy kneels next to the others as soon as he realizes I’m about to piss. I do. I let it play from man to man—feeding each pig some of the pale stream. When it stops, I fist my tired cock. I jerk. I have a tongue on my balls and another trying to lick my shaft. I shoot. It’s like feeding baby birds. I have three mouths wide open and grunting for cum. I try to give a little to each of them. My hand is pulled away from my dick. Tongues are everywhere. They clean me up. There is not a drop of cum anywhere when they are done. More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... My Playroom---September, 2013 Kurt had been after me to get back to the playroom. The last time we’d met, I’d worked his big toys up his hole, and a good portion of my forearm. Now that the house was my own again, we set a date. I got a text the first thing in the morning, while I was still lying in bed, wondering if I really wanted to get up. When I saw it was from Kurt, I was sure he was cancelling. But no—it read: “Save all your piss for me in a bottle.” I smiled and went to find an old 1/3 gallon Thermos… Kurt is on his knees. He is tall and hairy with a shaved head. I am finishing up spraying a load of piss straight into his mouth. He has swallowed it all. All, but the quick spurt I shot on his hard cock. “So this is it.” I nod. He is getting up on the new fuckbench. He settles in on the padded leg rests. His hairy ass is sticking up, waiting for me. He expects me to rim him. Instead, I simply stick my dripping cock into his ass. “Fuck!” He huffs poppers as I ride his ass, letting my balls slap loudly on his butt. I slow down when I feel like I can piss again. I pull out, give one short burst of piss on his freshly fucked hole and plow right back in. His hole is gaping. I stop and reach for the egg-headed dildo I like to use to double fuck. I grease it lightly, and work it up him. Then, pressing the base down, I slide my cock right along the top side of the toy. “Fucker!” he grunts out, his nose still in the bottle. Now he’s back to the tightness I like. We fuck like this for a long time. “I want to eat your ass.” It’s my turn on the fuckbench. I love how it supports my chest. Kurt kneels on the padded floor and sticks his tongue into me as deeply as he can. He spits and dives in again. Break time. I find the can of Crisco in the refrigerator with his name on it. He gets back on the bench. I spend the next hour working his monster toys up his ass. The smallest is as big as my foot. The largest is over 18 inches. It takes both of my hands to get that one in place. It’s time for my hands up his ass. I work them in. Two fingers, three fingers. Alternating hands. Now four. Slipping ever deeper into his Crisco-ed hole. I’m in. My right hand has popped in to the wrist. I begin the slow crawl up his ass. I move slowly deeper and deeper. Kurt huffs more poppers. I look down. I am almost there. Another inch. Another. I check again. I’m there. My elbow is right at the lips of his ass. I tell him. “Damn,” is all he says. I pull ever so slowly out of his ass. I add the stainless ball bearings, pushing them in with my Crisco covered fingers. I get three balls up him. I add my dick. I love the feel of the cold steel—with my cock sliding over them. I try to piss while I’m in his hole—but I can’t quite get there. I fuck again, listening to the “click” of the balls deep in his gut. I pull out. Kurt works to shoot the balls out of his ass. He gets two of them out. Then stands up and lets gravity help with the third. Kurt has to clean up and go to work. He asks if he can get off. “Wait until you’re in the tub,” I tell him. He begins jerking the moment he kneels in the shower. I disappear to the kitchen, bringing back the large thermos of piss. “Here,” I tell him. “I have pissed in this all morning.” “Oh, yeah…” he moans. Kurt’s hand is moving rapidly over his cock. I have almost filled the 1/3 of gallon Thermos over the morning. “Open your mouth.” “Yes, Sir!” He does. I tilt the Thermos. The tepid piss spills out onto his tongue. He swallows some. But a lot of it coats the hairy on his chest and the cock he is jerking. I tilt it again. More splashes over him. He swallows and strokes. Finally I turn the remainder of it over his head. Kurt gasps. And shoots. I leave the bathroom and let him wallow in the piss and his cum… More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Near Home—September, 2013 In a comment to my last post, fellow blogger, Upton King of Wonderland Burlesque wrote: “Wow…Epic night. But then, where you’re concerned, they’re all epic, huh?” Well…No. But his comment made me think a little about the sex I record here. I have skipped over very little that has happened to me sexually since I started writing this blog. I have covered the Good, the Bad, the Spectacular and the Dirty. Some entries are a combination of several of those. The few sexual things I skipped over in the last year were two different trips to a bookstore where nothing happened but me jerking off to porn. I don’t think my readers care about me wanking to an empty and/or non-interested room—and, gasp, one time it was to condomed porn, since that’s what is often shown there. I do have a tendency to choose something to pursue that I will likely find exciting. If I have an offer for a regular fuck and the offer of a small group, I’ll take the group. If it’s two asses on offer, I know I’ll choose the kinkier guy. If it’s a blow job or fucking, most of my readers know where I will be going. I also know I have a true talent for getting things started in a public place. I have always enjoyed being the first one out of my clothes at a motel party, or the first cock out at a bookstore. I don’t walk around a bathhouse with a towel so tightly wound around me you can’t see if I have a dick—no, I wear a jock that accentuates my meat and frames my flat ass for all to see—and the towel is tossed over my shoulder. I also play with a lot of guys I know—so I know I will have a good time. I like to think my regulars are guys who like to keep pushing limits, just as I often do. But there are days—as there are for all of us—where nothing works. The online sites are silent. Or I’m too far away from anyone. Such was the case in early September. I was sitting in the tiny rest area on a state road here in West Michigan. I arrived at noon, usually a good time to find guys on their lunch hour. One car is in the lot. An elderly couple is hobbling toward the pair of pit toilets. I park at the far end of the lot. I have a clear field of vision for the door of the men’s room. The door’s hinges have pulled out of the frame. You have to lift the knob to get it to close properly. I pull out my book and read. The couple leaves. Silence, but for the wind in the hickory trees. I go back to my book. A car at the far end. A lone man. I watch as he scrambles out of his compact car and all but runs for the men’s room. But he takes the time to slam the door of the toilet. You can hear the lock slide shut. He’s gone in minutes. A tractor starts up in the neighboring field. The sound of his engine mixes with the Handel I have on the radio. A truck arrives, taking up four parking spaces. The driver gets out, stretches and walks slowly toward the toilets. He looks right at me. I return his gaze. He’s nothing special, but in today’s wilderness, I know I’d play with him. When he gets to the door, he bangs it shut twice before he can get it to latch. The sky darkens. I think we might get some rain. Another car. A family of four comes and goes. Rain spatters on my windshield. Just a few random drops, all big and fat. Not a downpour—just enough to make me put up the window for a moment. Back to my book. I eat the sandwich I had packed. A car parks quite close to me. A thirty–something blond man looks over at me. He gets out. He’s a cub, in cut-offs and a tee. He looks once more at me and goes in to piss, leaving the door ajar. I wait a moment. I get out and start towards the toilet. He is out before I’m halfway there. He stops, looks at me, and goes behind the building. I follow, my cock hardening. He’s there. Standing on the edge of the cement foundation. His cock is out. What there is of it. “Suck me off.” I hesitate. I so needed it to go the other way today. I kneel. I swirl my tongue around his tiny cockhead twice and he erupts in my mouth. He grunts and bucks into my face and then whips it out of my mouth and shoves it back into his shorts. All told, maybe a minute and a half. No other men. No other cars. Epic? Not quite… More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Lansing—September, 2103 This was my evening of the same day as the last post. My fuck buddy Brad was moving back to his home state of Alabama. He has appeared a couple of times in this blog—most notably in PackAttack and as my travel companion to last year’s New Year’s Eve party in Chicago. We agreed we wanted to fuck one more time. And as we both really love group play, we decided to meet at the bookstore/lounge in Lansing. Brad had seeded my ex-military guy there. Now he wanted to go and be seeded himself. This was my first trip back since the owner had expanded the playspace. The television lounge was still there with the rarely used fuckbench between the screens. Behind the seats, a large cubicle with several gloryholes cut into its walls, was in the same position, but the sling in the back corner was was gone. A wall had been opened up behind the cubicle. The first room was dark. Really dark. There was wooden cube in the middle of the room, just high enough for a man to grab onto as he was fucked. This opened up into a large warehouse space where there was more light, but still nice and shadowy. A slurp ramp dominated the room. There were several alcoves where men could retire for some slight privacy. At the far end, the sling had been re-hung. There was also a bathroom behind the sling. Brad (tall, thin and hung) and I arrived at the same time. We paid our admission and went our separate ways as soon as we were in the warehouse area. He went behind the slurp ramp. I was soon in one of the alcoves where two hungry cock suckers shared my cock… I am now good and rampant. I go to find Brad. He’s watching a guy get blown. I pull him toward the sling. “Let’s show off a little,” I tell him. He gets out of his jeans and folds them up to be a pillow in the webbed sling. Once he’s in, I kneel on the cold concrete and start licking his hairy crack. We start collecting onlookers as Brad begins to moan. I stand up, lube my cock and find his slick hole. I’m in. A hand comes out of the group of four or five men watching us and tries to grab my cock. “It’s raw,” I tell him. “Fuck him good,” the guy tells me. I pick up the pace of my thrusts. My hips slap his upturned ass—with the sound filling the warehouse. One guy in the group, who’s about my age, though with a lot more meat on his bones, is openly stroking. I ask if he want to take a turn up Brad’s hole. He nods. I pull out. I bend and spit on the man’s cock. He pushes right into Brad’s tight hole. Roughly. He fucks Brad at a terrific pace. I feel a hand on my cock. A really good looking man, about 15 years younger than me is fondling me. “You must be the guy the owner told me about,” he whispers in my ear. “Jeez. It’s bigger than he said.” I shrug. He tugs me away from the sling. He leans against the slurp ramp’s back wall. “I used to live here, but live out west now.” He’s pulling his pants down as he talks. “Fuck me.” He turns, arching his back, holding onto the wall for support. It’s a bubble butt that could be in porn. I kneel and run my tongue up and down his hairless crack. Soon, I’m digging it into his hole. “Damn, you know how to eat butt. Give me your cock.” I stand up and push in. Oh, fuck. Beautiful and talented. I have to grab my balls and twist them to slow me down. I hesitate for a long moment, and then I begin a steady rock into him. I pick up the tempo. His head starts hitting the thin paneling of the wall. It makes a thumping sound every time I drive home. He doesn’t care. In fact, I think he gets off on it. I look over at the sling. Brad has moved on to a young Hispanic top. The older man, who was fucking Brad, is walking toward us. I let him up my young out of towner—who barely glances back to see who is fucking him now. He just wants cock. Any big cock. “Hey, Mister.” The voice comes out of the shadows. I can’t see who it is. I move towards him. “You been fucking that ass bare? I bet you’re thirsty.” Now I know who it is. He’s a local young man who I only managed to play with once due to a controlling boyfriend. He’s a big piss pig. We hug. He pushes me down to my knees. He starts pissing almost before I get it in my mouth. “I tanked up the moment I saw your ad,” he tells me as his piss gushes down my throat. I swallow. It’s sweet, but I have no time to savor it, I just keep swallowing. The moment he is done, he pulls me to my feet and kisses me deeply. Then he disappears into the crowd of men now ringing the sling. I go back up Brad. I fuck with a nice steady rhythm. I watch the wiry Hispanic fuck the out of towner still in the dark behind the slurp ramp. I fuck Brad until he asks for a break. I go back to the out of towner, but he needs a break, too. I let a friend of Brad’s suck my dick through the gloryhole. Soon, I fuck both men again, starting with the out of towner. Then two new ones. The first is a fit guy, about my age, who topped my ex-military bud the last time I was here. Tonight, he’s all bottom and he’s great. A nasty talker. The other is a 40-ish bottom who likes to clean the cock of whom ever pulls out of Nasty Talker before the top goes into him. They know each other, and work as a team all night. I really get off watching them. I just make sure I kiss the bottom after each cleaning. “Drink time, Daddy. On your knees.” It’s the piss boy. We don’t even make a gesture of taking it into a dark corner this time. I just fall to my knees and drink him down. This time, with the stream is not so urgent, I can really savor his piss. And he fills up my bladder. He pulls out, and starts to leave. It’s my turn to catch him by the shoulder. I pull him toward me. We kiss. My hands push him down. He takes my dick into his mouth, just sucking my dick. I concentrate and the piss pours out of my hard cock. He gasps and guzzles me down. A Black top is currently savaging Brad’s hole. When he pulls out, I eat Brad’s ass. The man didn’t cum, but he was a big pre-cummer. I stay on my knees until I’ve eaten every drop. It makes me piston fuck Brad. Eventually, the Hispanic and I line the four bottoms up, all holding on to a chair or the wall or their own knees. We fuck them right down the line. He starts at one end and I the other. We watch each other. We match each other thrust for thrust. We pull out at the same time, as if someone told us to do it. We each move in, so we are now next to each other. Stray fingers from the group of watchers are on our nipples. We are both getting off on being an exhibitionist. Then we turn to each other and kiss. Still in our second hole. It’s good enough to make us stop fucking. For a moment. Then we switch places. My cock slides into the ass he’s just left. It’s incredibly wet. We both grin at each other. We change into the last man. We’ve both had all four bottoms in quick succession. The out of towner has a cock in his mouth as well as my dick. I have to work not to blow up him right there. I let any number of guys suck my dick. No one seems concerned it’s been up four asses in a row. Brad finds me. His slightly nerdy friend wants me to fuck him. I look over to where Brad gestures. It’s the same guy who sucked me at the gloryhole earlier. I find him, bend him over rather roughly and fuck him. There is little artistry now. I’m in rut. I can see Brad get back in the sling. The first tall, but thicker guy is back up him. From across the room I see the top jerk and spasm as he shoots up Brad’s hole. I get over there as fast as I can—just as the top is pulling out. He lets me clean his cock. Just. He’s almost in pain it’s so intense. I go for what’s in the ass. Damn, he shot deep—I can get just the smallest taste of it. I stick my drooling cock in his puffy hole. My flared head pulls a large white drip out. I catch it with my hand and taste it. Oh, shit. Suddenly, I’m pounding. I shoot up Brad. Long and hard. I stay in place as he jerks off. I love how his ass clamps down on my slowly softening cock as he shoots. What a nice way to say good-bye… More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Kalamazoo—September, 2013 I was double booked. I had accepted an invite to a sex party in the afternoon that I was sure would be cancelled. For the evening, I had posted an ad on BBRT for others to come to the Lansing bookstore/sex club to help send off a fuckbud of mine who was moving out of state. He wanted to leave with a full ass. I wanted to be a good friend and help him with that. Well, amazingly enough both were a go. I took off for Kalamazoo first. I found the house easily—a small bungalow likely built in the 1940’s. I was the last to arrive. It was hosted by Willie, the man who had posed as my boy for the photo series I called “On the Tracks.” (You can find all those pictures by hitting the button labeled just that in the “labels” cloud over to the right.) Willie let me in. He was naked except for a cloth jock and athletic socks. Willie is in his mid-forties and hairy. He loves to invite guys over to have bareback sex. He’ll suck some cock, but usually does not get fucked or top. On the couch were three guys. The first was a chunky Black man I’d had in my playroom to seed other boys. Like all the men but me, he’s in his mid-forties. He has a terrific smile and a sizable cock. Sitting next to him was an otter in a leather harness. His cock was buried in the bottom’s mouth. The third man was a guy I’d played with a couple of times, always as a bottom though I knew he was the top in his relationship. He had a leather harness on, too. His red jock was pulled to the side, and he was stroking his cock as he chewed on the Otter’s closest nipple. The bottom of the day was on all fours on the ottoman in front of them. He pulled off the Otter and started sucking Red Jock as I started shedding clothes in the corner. “How do you like our bottom?” whispered Willie. “He’s married, but takes loads. He wants you all to fuck him.” I looked at the lanky farm boy on the ottoman. He was long, lean with a perky butt framed by a white jock. From what I could tell, since his face was still buried in Red Jock’s crotch, he had craggy good looks and nicely ripped arms. It would be a pleasure to fuck and seed him… Once stripped to my jock and boots, I fall to my knees behind the bottom. My tongue goes right up his hairy ass. His mouth is back on the Black guy. Red Jock is sucking the Otter while Willie has squirmed around on the floor and is eating Red Jock’s butt. I sink my tongue as deep as I can into Farm Boy. He moans around the Black dick in his mouth. I lick and spit as much spittle as I can get in his ass. I get up and slap my cock on his butt. Farm boy reaches back to feel the size of my cock. Willie is up and jacking now. “He’s the big one I told you about.” The Otter struggles up to look at my dick. “Damn,” he hisses. It makes him turn Farm Boy around and enter his butt. Otter’s average sized cock slides right in with the trail of spit I’ve left in Farm Boy’s ass. Red Jock has me sit next to him. He grovels on the floor between my legs and gags on my cock. He loves to gag. The sound only makes my cock get bigger. I watch the fuck happening in front of me. Farm Boy is in some other space as he huffs poppers and takes Otter’s cock. Willie is sucking the Black cock. Red Jock pulls off my cock and climbs up next to me. I finger his hole. “Later,” he whispers in my ear. “After I’ve fucked him.” He gestures to the ottoman. I simply slide down, pull Red Jock’s legs in the air and begin eating his ass. I push my tongue into his butt in tempo with the fucking happening behind me. “Next.” Otter has pulled out. I let down Red Jock’s legs. He scrambles around and enters the fucked hole. Otter moves around to suck the Black cock. Willie gobbles down mine. Which is great—I get to watch Red Jock fuck the Farm Boy. He’s kept him on all fours. He pummels his ass at several speeds, occasionally pulling out and spitting on his cock before he drives it back in. I’m up next. “Take it, boy,” I grunt. “Take your third dick.” This makes him moan into his poppers. I fuck hard. But I’m afraid I go too deep. I’ sure I’m through his second ring. I pull out. The Black guy is up him before I can say anything about the shit on my cock. I go to wash in the kitchen. When I get back, the Black guy is just pulling out. He freaks at the amount of shit on his cock. Willie gets the Farm Boy up to the shower. The Black guy washes, but is totally out of the moment now. He dresses and leaves without getting off. While the bathroom is occupied, Otter says he has to piss. He asks Willie if there is another bathroom. Willie points to me. I hunker down and take the Otter’s piss down my throat. He’s been drinking something incredibly sweet. He simply opens the tap and gushes at full speed into my mouth. “Fuck,” he chuckles, “this is so hot. Drink my piss, man.” I swallow. And swallow faster and faster. Willie is right there, jerking his cock. I think he’d like some of it, but with his living room carpet at stake, I can’t pull off and offer him some. Finally the Otter runs dry. I do a last swallow. As I do, his semi-soft cock erects. I suck him down. “Fuck,” he says again. We all exchange blow jobs as we wait for Farm Boy. He comes back, claiming he should be fine now. The Otter goes back up him once Farm boy is back on all fours on the ottoman. He fucks hard and fast. “I’m gonna shoot.” “On my face,” pleads the Farm Boy. Otter pulls out but shoots all over his back. Red Jock mops it up, putting it on his cock and fucks it into Farm Boy. I clean Otter’s cock. Willie has moved around so he is in Farm Boy’s mouth. Suddenly, he pulls out and shoots his load all over Farm Boy’s face. “I’m shooting,” announces the Red Jock. He makes no move to pull out. He seeds the Farm Boy and pumps it deep. I’m right there to lick him clean…but I can’t. Farm Boy’s ass has gone bad again. I can’t fuck a shitty hole, and Farm Boy seems done, perhaps that a load actually ended up in his ass. I’m just fine with saving the load for tonight. Next time—the farewell party that night. More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... My Playroom—September, 2013 I returned from Canada and slowly got back to a my regular fuck schedule. I was online at the top of the week. The hot guy I called the Mystery Man when I wrote up our meet in the late spring, contacted me. He was about to change jobs. Once he began working there, it would be harder for him to give the boyfriend the slip and get in the sling. We both agreed he should get out here ASAP. We set a date. He told me he would text me as he was about to hit the road from Detroit. I have decent cell phone coverage considering that I believe I live in a rural section of my state. I was due to get his text about 1:00pm on the day of the meet. It didn’t come in. I waited. I waited for a little longer. I got online. He was there. “Did you get my text?” he asked. I typed “No.” And then my phone chirruped at me. There it was—only 53 minutes after he sent it. We chatted. Still time? We agreed we would now be a little rushed, but we both wanted it. He did a quick clean out and hit the road. He looked every bit as good as he did in May. I still couldn’t come up with his name, but finally asked as I came up from eating his ass. He grinned and told me. However, I will always call him the Mystery Man on here to keep it consistent… I go back to licking his hairy hole. It is spread wide on the fuckbench. “Eat me out, man. Tongue fuck me.” I do. I am going deep and lubing his gorgeous ass with as much spit as possible. I don’t spend as long as I want eating him out. We are on a schedule: to get him home before the BF finishes up with work. I stand up and insert. “Fuck, I forgot how big you are.” “Take my dick.” “Oh, yeah. Fuck me deep.” I am. I am balls deep already. “Fuck me raw.” He clamps down on my raw cock. “Seed me like my man won’t.” Now he’s getting to it. “He won’t seed this hot ass of yours?” I grunt out. “He won’t even fuck me bareback.” I shake my head. His ass is everything any man could want: beautiful to look at, but more importantly, talented. “I’ll seed you every chance we get.” And I mean it. Every word. But not yet. My balls slap against him. He grips the supports on the fuck bench until his knuckles are white. I pull out and slap my cock against his upturned ass. I bend over and slick his slick hole. Mystery Man groans. I push right back in with my cock. I marvel that I am fucking such a hot man. He groans under me. He reaches under the top part of the bench to feel his hard cock. I look down—it’s rock hard and pointing at the floor. I slow my thrusts, pull out and slap his balls with my rock hard penis. It hits his balls with a loud thwack. He grunts—and takes his hands away from his dick. I pull out. “Let’s do the sling.” Once he’s situated, I am right back up him. “Oh, yeah.” He looks up at the mirror above him. He has a great view of my hard cock hammering into his ass. “Fuck me!” He starts stroking himself again. He has a great dick himself. I spit on it. He grunts and uses it for lube. “Fucking rape that hole.” The Mystery Man loves that word. “Rape my fucking mancunt with that big dick. Give me your seed.” He’s stroking harder. Shit. I think he’s going to get off. We’ve barely been fucking for thirty minutes. “Fuck me,” he moans. “I want your seed up my ass for the ride home.” “Say it again,” I tell him. “Tell me how much you want my load in your mancunt.” “Yes. Wet and slimy.” He strokes himself. “Dripping.” “Fuck,” I grunt. “I am going to shoot a four day load up that ass.” “YES!” His cock explodes across his ripped chest. I reach down and smear his load across his pecs. I bring the dripping hand up to my mouth. It’s just enough to get me to shoot. I fill his hole as promised... He will have been in the car for just over 4 hours by the time he gets home—for just over thirty-six minutes of sex. But he got his hole seeded by a big dick. I got to fuck a hot man. And I will do it whenever he wants… More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Toronto—August, 2013 My trip to Canada was almost over. Each morning that I was in the Niagara area, I would finish breakfast and go to the public library to take advantage of their internet connection. There was never anyone online in that area, but guys from Toronto would often chat with me. There was one man who struck up a conversation with me each morning. He was fascinated by my screen name and wanted to meet, so I could put both the felching and the pissing into action. In his hole. We had talked enough that I broke down and said I would go home (out of my way) back through Toronto. He didn’t want to piss at his apartment, so I suggested we meet at the Cellar, the sleaziest of the bathhouses. He agreed. I finished up in Niagara by late afternoon, and arrived in TO right on time at 8:00pm. It’s dark in the corridors—so dark I can barely see. I wind through the dingy halls, turn a corner and finally find my room. It’s small with the regulation bed, locker and a shuttered gloryhole in the door. The grilled window in the top of the door, reminding me of a 1920’s speakeasy, is open. I leave it. I know I’ll want to show off tonight. I change into my harness and combat boots. I’ve told him he’ll find me by the yellow jock. I arrange my swelling, cock ringed dick into the distended pouch. I add the leather wrist band to my left wrist. I get out my travel lube and stick it in the waistband of my jock. I leave the poppers on the shelf by the bed. I lock the locker and head out to find the eager Hole. He’s not there. I check the time. He’s 30 minutes late. I sigh. And turn my attentions to who has come out on a Thursday night. Not very many, it turns out. On a quick cruise through the halls I count about eight men. I go to the back hallway. There is not a trace of light. I feel my way along the back wall until I bump into someone. A totally anonymous hand squeezes the bulge in my jock. I reach out and find a nipple, then it slips away as the mystery man kneels. He pulls my jock to one side and takes me to the root. Christ, he’s good. It’s perfect suction, the perfect amount of tongue. I find his ears, hold him in place and fuck into his mouth. He grunts his satisfaction. Other men reach for me. I have hands on my chest. Another on my ass. I bat away the finger that is trying to squirm up my ass. A mouth is on my right nipple. He kisses his way down to kneel beside the cocksucker. I pull out of one mouth and plunge it into the other. This new guy is not as good, but I spend quite some time pulling it out of one mouth and feeding it to the other. The best moment is feeding it to the great cock sucker and letting the other man work on my balls. When I don’t shoot, the guys eventually move on. I make a circuit of the facility and end up back in the hallway. It’s still deserted. I see a flicker of light in front of me. A man has opened a gloryhole from his room. I move forward. I shove my cock through it. I am instantly swallowed. Oh, yeah. It’s the great cocksucker. Of course he’d ask for the only room that has a gloryhole opening to the dark area. We play off and on for most of the night. There are new arrivals. I jerk in wide open video area. I have several mouths taste my cock out in the open. I work a public gloryhole sucking two different cocks. Then the right man walks in. I don’t see him until he emerges from his room. His boots clomp toward the video area where I am sitting. He is mid-30’s, with strong, sharp features and closely cropped dark hair. He is dressed in chaps and harness. His biceps are the size that makes me feel weak. Our eyes lock. I get up and go to my room. He follows me. We kiss, leaving the door open. He begins chewing my pits, made fragrant from all the play. Then it’s back to kissing me with that acrid taste on his tongue. “Get on the bed,” I say hoarsely. He does. On all fours. His full ass perfectly framed by the chaps. I kneel behind him and sink my face into that ass. It’s totally hairless. I dig into his pucker. He groans. I grab the poppers off the shelf and toss them to him. I can hear him huff and I drill my tongue as deep as possible into him. I stand up and slap his ass with my cock. “Wait,” he grunts out. I stop. “I want to eat your hole first.” I pull him up. We kiss. He loves the taste of his ass on my tongue. He pushes me down on the bed, on my back. My feet rest flat against the wall. He kneels and spits on my asshole. He scoops it up and swallows it down. It’s my turn to huff the poppers. His tongue drills me. I go very verbal, calling him names and telling him to eat me. Faces appear at the door to stroke and watch. My partner stands up. He has a raging hard-on. For a moment I think he wants to fuck me. But he pulls me up and kisses me. Then he whispers in my ear, so the guys watching can’t hear. “Fuck me raw—but cum on my face.” I nod. He gets back on all fours. I rim briefly, but I want into his ass. It doesn’t disappoint. He’s hot and wet. And tight. He squeezes down. I wonder if I’m going to be able to keep my promise to not shoot up his hole. I press into him slowly. “Fuck him,” says someone in the door. I start my accelerated fuck. He is groaning, hitting the poppers. His hard cock is being worked by his hand. I fuck him hard. The guys in the door egg us on. It’s by chance that I notice that he’s shot all over the floor of my room and on the toe of my boot. He wiggles out from under me and flips onto his back. He spins around, so his head is under my cock. I push my cock, which was moments ago in his ass, into his mouth. His drooling dick, spits more cum into his pubes. I pull out of his mouth and jerk. The first splatter hits his chest, but the next one I can direct into his wide open mouth. I cover his nose, chin, and tongue. I lean against the wall, my lungs gasping for air. My partner sits up, looks at me and brings his cummy mouth to mine. We kiss. I look over by the door. No one is there now. But there are two distinct pools of cum on the black linoleum. More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... On the shore of Lake Ontario—August, 2013 The cruise park where I have always hung out whenever I visit the Niagara wine country, was anything but crowded the week I was there. I saw one naked sunbather. We talked, with him spread eagled before me on an old Army blanket, as he told me how he attracted women and then got them into the woods. (For the record, he was 65+, with a large belly.) The other visitors to the recreation area were a few families, young straight couples, and lots of dog walkers. I think I saw one other guy cruising, but he had no interest in me. And there was the guy on the bicycle. I was sitting in my car, reading, for it had rained the night before and the grass was wet. He glanced at me as he passed in front of me and made a wide U-turn to park right next to me. “Hello,” he gushed. “You’re back.” I nodded. He looked vaguely familiar. I’m sure I must have done something with him sometime. “The park has changed,” he told me. “There are so few people here nowadays.” “Is it police? Rangers?” “No,” he said shook his head. “There’s no money for them to be out here.” He looked out at the lake. “Guys just don’t seem to come out here anymore. Or at least guys who want to play with me.” I looked at him again. I guessed he was anywhere from 60 to 70. His clothes were expensive—tan slacks and a pin striped shirt. The shoes were a top of the line exercise shoe. His thinning hair was occasionally caught in the breeze off the lake. All in all, he reminded me a literature teacher I had in school except there was no bowtie. I looked down at the fingers gripping the handlebars. There was a gold band on his left hand that seemed to dwarf his ring finger. James remembered everything about my visit in 2011. We’d played in the woods on two different days. Once, he reminded me, we had sucked each other off. Another time I had refused to let him bother with my cock while I’d taken his cum. I remembered him not from the sex, but from his conversational style and good humor—and his need to have some gay man actually listen to him. The park seemed to be the only connection he had with anyone queer. And now even that limited exposure was drying up. “So do you want me to suck you?” It sounded so blunt after all the other chat. It did stop James as he was beginning a new topic. “I can’t today. I’m late for dinner now. Meatloaf. How about tomorrow? About 5:00?” I agreed. James pedaled off with a quick wave—and headed home down the rutted road to his wife’s meatloaf. But he didn’t show up the next day. And neither did anyone else. The day after that, he was parked again by my car. “I’m so sorry. Yesterday I had some sort of stomach flu. Or food poisoning. But I’m fine now.” I refrained from asking if it was the meatloaf. He pointed to the wooded area where most men played. He was eager. He was also in easy access exercise clothes. We pushed our way through the undergrowth until we were lost from view—not that there was anyone there to view us. “You are so handsome.” I thank James, though I don’t particularly believe him. He has pulled his maroon running shorts down and is stroking his distended cock. I unbuckle my belt as he feels my mound of dick through my jeans. I push the pants down right along with the underwear so my hard cock juts out. His fist wraps around it. He gives it two or three strokes with his soft hands. Then he bends at the waist and takes a third of it into his mouth. He is all tongue action. It feels good but I want to go deeper into his mouth. I thrust once and he gags. I pull out and sink to my knees. I take him to the root on the first swallow. He gives a grunt of satisfaction. His soft hands trace patterns on my ears. He tells me how good it feels. How long it’s been since anyone did this to him. He doesn’t blow instantly, like I thought he might. But it doesn’t take too much to make him cum. He shoots down my throat. I swallow his thick load. He pulls out the ubiquitous fast food napkin from a shirt pocket and mops up the little I don’t clean off his cock. And we talk. Well, he does mostly. About what he’d like to do with me in a bed. We both know it won’t happen—he has a wife at home and I have a sleeping bag on an air mattress. He talks about watching his teenaged students in class. (I was right—he is a teacher.) How free they seem to him. How he has a kid, openly gay at 15, in one of his classes. James says he can’t imagine being that open. Ever. Much less that young. He finds his bicycle. He wants my Squirt screen name—a service I rarely use—but it’s big, he tells me, in Canada. I give it to him. With a last wave, James pedals out of the park. I stay in the woods a moment more. I could have so easily gone down his path 35 years ago. I was trained to teach; expected to have a wife. I smirk at myself, realizing I even have the bowties. But I took a different path. Something, at this very moment, I’m glad I did. I step out of the woods and into the first sunshine in the last three days. More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Fort Erie, ON—August, 2013 My trip to Canada took me into the Niagara wine country after my night at Steamworks. I pitched my tent, napped, caught up on some reading, and let the night of debauchery be enough sex for a couple of days. By mid-week I was horned and in need. The local cruisy park had yielded no fun at all. I packed a lunch and went to spend the day at an older gay sauna which had a terrific sun deck on top of the building. By the time I arrived there, it was wet and rainy for the rest of the day. There have been a number of improvements to the old building since a major chain had purchased it. The steam room was cleaner. I had forgotten they’d added a dry sauna. The rooms in general were neater now. Windows, which had been in many of the small rooms, were covered over. There were two porn lounges and a regular lounge. But best of all, a sling and slurp ramp had been added in what had once been a storage area. The issue was that very few men from upstate New York came to the sauna anymore. There was a time when men crossed the bridge to Canada in droves to get off away from home. Now, they found it harder to do so with the new border restrictions. I was the only one there as I checked in. I set rules for myself. I would watch a little porn, read my book and do a blog entry. I could still have a good time if no one showed up. But the book remained untouched and only half an entry got written… I am in the steam room, sitting on the well-worn wooden bench, when I hear the door to the shower area bang shut. I listen for him to come in the steam room door, but the man spends a long time showering. I pull the rope hanging from the ceiling. Steam billows out from below the bench. I become invisible in the steam, and revel in the heat it is producing. Eventually the new customer pushes through the door and into the clouds of steam. He almost sits on me, thanks to all the steam. He apologizes. He sits very close. Even then, I can’t really see him. It’s not until he stands up and pushes a thick, uncut cock into my face I can see him at all. He’s older than I, with grey hair in a military cut. His body once was defined and hard, though it’s softening now. He grabs my ears, tells me to “Suck it, boy” and pumps a load into my mouth within the first 6 strokes. He leaves for the showers. He spends a long time washing my saliva off his cock. I let him leave before I shower. I dry off and watch a little porn. It’s a bare video, which surprises me. No one else has arrived. I get out the lap top, sit in the ‘real’ lounge by the entrance door and begin to type. The door buzzes. A married dad comes in. Well, a married dad with his kids just out of college. He’s shorter than me by a head. He looks very preppy in khaki’s and a wet windbreaker. He is clean shaven, with dark hair turning the classic grey at the temples. He heads for the locker area. I take the computer back to my room and head back to the steam room. He’s there by the time I get back downstairs. He wastes no time going down on me. He’s good. He can’t get over my size. But he knows how to work a big dick. I return the favor on his much more average sized cock. We break, sitting and talking as the steam disperses. “Do you actually fuck guys with that?” he asks. “All the time.” “I’d love to try it, but I don’t think….” “You know there’s a sling. It would help you relax, by letting you just float there.” “I’ve never done that. But I love getting fucked by regular sized guys.” “Come on….” I get up and head out to the showers, as if it’s all decided, that he’ll follow me to get fucked. And he does. We walk into the sling room. A stolen road sign sits in the corner: Raised Manholes. I get him into the sling. He likes how his suspended legs feel. When I start eating his ass, he starts babbling a string of sex talk. I finally stand up and fuck his face to shut him up. I lick his ass a little more. I unroll a Magnum, at his request, and work my covered cock into his ass. “Oh, fuck that hurts.” I hold still. “Slowly.” I begin to withdraw. “Oh, man. Just take that God damned rubber off.” I do. I enter him. Easily. Smoothly. And it feels great for both of us. “Damn. I did it. I took that big cock of yours.” I am really pumping into him now. He starts talking nasty again. But it’s not me who shuts him up. Other guys have arrived for the noon hour. The first one in is a guy who I guess is just touching 40. He’s fit, blond and judging from a sizable, curved erection, he likes what he sees in the sling room. He pushes past me and sticks his dick in the Dad’s mouth. At almost the same moment, I feel a hand reach under me and feel up my balls. Then the unknown man feels the base of my cock. “You’re fucking him raw,” he whispers in my ear. I turn enough to see a much younger guy. Maybe late 20’s. Maybe from somewhere in the Mediterranean from the look of his olive skin and shiny black hair. I nod. He presses his very hairy chest against my back. His fingers are on my nipples. I can feel his hardening cock in my ass crack. “You want to fuck him?” I ask. He nods. The Dad grunts a yes around the curved dick, and the Greek enters him. The Curve turns to me. We kiss. And we can’t stop. Our tongues battle. I feel a hand on my ass again. It’s the Greek. He pulls out of Dad. “Who wants him next?” I look to the Curve. I think he really wants to, but says “no.” I slip back up Dad. The Greek brings his cock to Dad’s mouth. The Curve moves behind me. I wait for his hand on my ass—but I get his tongue. It’s awkward, as I’m thrusting, but I let him lick me as best he can. Finally, I lean forward— onto the Dad— and let the Curve’s tongue invade my ass. At the same time, the Greek pulls out of Dad’s mouth the thrust’s his thick uncut dick in my mouth. It’s too much attention for the Dad, he starts thrusting his cock against my abs. He groans and shoots, underneath me, coating my stomach. I reluctantly stand up and pull out. The Greek grabs his cock, jerks it furiously and shoot across the Dad’s chest. The Curve stands up and kisses me again. Now he tastes like my ass. I turn around and hold onto him. Tight. We kiss—all the while the spent men head for the showers. “I really need to taste your ass,” I tell the Curve. He nods. “Get in the sling.” He does. I kneel and lick down his crack. I find his pucker and push in. He groans. And tells me to eat him out. I lick and drill. I stand up and lean across him to kiss him. He sucks my tongue hungrily. I go back to his hole. He can’t stay still. He bucks against my face. “Please,” he pants. “Let me eat you.” I get back in the sling. He eats my ass for what seems like hours. He stands up, leans across me and kisses me. As our tongues connect, I can feel his cum gush over my cock and down my crack. “Clean that up,” I tell him. “YES, SIR.” He does. “Now kiss me…” He does that, too. **** I play with a few other new arrivals in the next hour. I take a break and lie on my bed, leaving the door to the room open. The Curve is suddenly there. “Get on the bed,” I tell him. “No, not on your back—on all fours.” He does. I kneel, pull his hairy cheeks apart and bury my entire face in his ass More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Toronto—August, 2013 For the last 15 years or so, I have taken a trip to Canada as my busy summer finishes up. This year was no exception, it was just more rushed. I was on the road before noon and was in Toronto for dinner. I ate. I napped in my car. I went off for a Saturday night at Steamworks… I check in. The cute man behind the counter tells me he likes Daddies. Welcome to Toronto, indeed. It takes some time to find my room in the maze of doors. It’s next to the DJ booth. There is a speaker right above my room, blaring dance music. But then, I will not be having sex there. I change into my jock, my wrist band and put my boots back on. I tuck the lube into my waistband and a bottle of poppers into the top of my sock. One of the entrances to the maze that leads to the sling and a fuckbench is right outside my door. How convenient. Except the area, the busiest place in the building on my visit last year, is empty almost all night. I wander through it. I walk the corridors to re-acquaint myself with the floor plan. At the far end is a gloryhole area of three or four small booths in a row. There are men everywhere—the steam room, the showers, the lounge, the play areas. All types, all ethnicities. Most are cruising the hallways. Then I hit the mother lode. I go through the door for the maze near the entrance. Everyone is there—on one side or the other of the slurp ramp. The surge of men pushes me into the lower level. I have a thick Black cock in my mouth in no time. I sample others on the line. Most with foreskin. Then I go up the stairs and stick my raging erection through a vacant hole. A Hispanic twink chokes on it. Several other guys take me easily. The only man I’ve seen in leather approaches. He looks like he left his bike outside—just removed his jeans from under his chaps. He grins and swallows me down. He’s terrific—varied with his tongue and suction. Eventually, he pulls off me. He cocks his head—wanting me to follow him. I push my way down the crowded stairway. I lose him for a minute. He reaches out from a small booth and pulls me in. He turns and offers me his ass, pressing his body up against the wall. There is a hole, right by his mouth, connected to the upper ramp. A cock comes through it. He sucks the dick as I feel up his butt. I have just enough room to kneel and lick his ass. I stand and insert. “Fuck me raw with that big cock.” I do. When he’s had enough, he pulls away and I don’t see him again for the rest of the evening. A guy pushes into the space. He is down sucking on my cock before I can tell him it’s fresh out of an ass. He doesn’t care. Once I’m spit shined, I make the circuit. I spend some quality time sitting on a bench, sucking off a hot cock sticking out of one of the cubicles in the small glory hole area. The guy, who I never see, shoots a great tasting load down my throat. As I sit, swallowing, a shadowy butt sits on my cock. I fuck him, bucking up into him. He shoots all over the floor, including my boots. He thanks me and moves away. I don’t know what he looks like either. I get a lot of head at the slurp ramp. I go down and fuck a guy fresh from the gym. He’s sucking another big dick and arches his back, pointing for me to plow him. I fuck him noisily. He shoots all over the mouth and face of a Black man who has wormed his way under us. I go back up to the top end of the slurp ramp. A handsome young man, with shoulder length blond curls steps up to my wet cock. His hair reminds me on a print of Sir Galahad that used to hang in my room as a child. My new knight takes me down, but not quite to the root. He keeps trying. Soon he’s taking it all, my nuts slapping his chin. Galahad is great. When he finally pulls off, he asks if I’ll fuck him. We go to the sling. He’s a great kisser. He gets in and he moans as I rim. I stand to insert and he hands me a condom. Not even a Magnum. And I have none with me. I struggle into it, but it’s too damn tight. And then he complains I’m hurting him on the insert. We try again. My erection fades and we give it up, knowing we’ll both find the right person for our different needs here tonight. I cruise the hallway. Near the far gloryholes, an Italianate young man stops me. “You want to fuck me again?” He points to the dark hallway. He must have been the anonymous ass I fucked back there. He’s hot and young. Of course I agree. We go back to the same bench. He lowers himself onto my erection. He bounces until once again, he shoots all over the slick floor and my thigh, matting the hair with his last two spurts. I cruise. I suck. I get sucked. I am back at the far gloryhole corridor. The middle one, which has a plexi-glass door, is occupied by a man about my age. He’s in shape and hungry. I watch him suck a cock coming through a hole on his right. When a bigger cock pushes through the hole on his left he changes to sucking it. The guy on his right leaves, once his cock is no longer being serviced. I go in the door. I don’t bother to lock it. I stick my cock through the now vacant hole. I can’t see the sucker now, but I must have caused enough movement for him to notice me, for his lips are now wrapped around me. He’s good. He gets me good and wet. His mouth leaves my dick. I kneel and watch him suck the other big cock, who is still there. Back to me. Back and forth. This time when he leaves my cock, I look again. I’m met by his ass cheeks pressing up against the hole. I lick him through opening. Then I stand and insert. The middle booth is just big enough for him to bend and get the other cock in his mouth as I fuck him. He is being spit roasted by the two anonymous dicks. He is in ecstasy. He is grunting loudly around the other guy’s cock. He pulls off and reverses, impaling himself on the other guy and taking my dick into his mouth again, straight from his ass. He is being bucked against me by the dude fucking him. I can hear the wall creak from the fuck. Suddenly it stops. His mouth goes off my cock as he hisses “Breed me!” I withdraw and kneel, watching. He milks the cock behind him for a long time. Then he turns around and presses his bred hole against the gloryhole. He expects my cock—but he gets my tongue. “Felch it, man! Eat that load.” With the wall between us, I can’t get as much as I’d like. I want it all. Then my own cum is rising. I stand up. I am just able to insert into his cummy ass before I blow my load. “He mutters a “Shit….” And milks my cock expertly. Slowly he withdraws off me. I will myself to let him clean my dick. The moment his mouth touches it, I hear his own climax through the wooden wall. He’s no longer paying attention to my cock, wrapped up in his own orgasm. I pull out and stagger back to my room. I check my watch. Four hours since I checked in… I sleep---even with the music pounding above me. ****** I awake sometime around 4:00 am. I still have an hour before check out. I wander the halls. There has been a grand exodus. But a knot of guys are ringing the fuckbench in one of the rooms near the slurp ramp. And with good reason. All I can see is a Black bubble butt getting pounded by a much older Black man. The top is talking trash to the bottom, telling him how he’ll breed him good. I push my way in through the guys who are just watching and stroking. I touch the bottom’s back as the Daddy announces “Here’s your fifth load.” He contorts and obviously shoots up the boy. He swats the ass and says to the room “Next.” I move around. I’m not sure I can get hard again after all that play. The moment I kneel and taste the loads in his hole, my cock achingly erects. The tourists, the boys who just watch, all chatter about my eating his full, cummy ass. I stand up and slap my erection onto the moist crack. They shut up. I enter the boy roughly. It’s not a long fuck. The loads squishing around my cock gest me off in no time. I thank the boy, shower and check out. The cute clerk is still there. He smirks “Did Daddy find some fun?” I nod. “I saw you in the shower, Daddy, you must have made a lot of boys scream.” I shrug. Then nod. “More than my share. Yeah.” I go out into the warm night. It’s a beautiful night to walk the 15 blocks to my car. I tilt the front seat back, curl up and sleep until the morning sun (and breakfast) wakes me up… More...

Thanks. It was great evening in the playroom---of two like-minded men.

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... My Playroom—August, 2013 As August wound down, my house went back to being all mine. My playroom was back up within 24 hours of waving farewell to the last of the departing guests. I pieced the padded floor to go under the equipment, with the plastic underneath it. The fuck bench was erected, the sling assembled and the rimseat was in place, awaiting the first hot ass I could snare. I was lucky enough to snare the Fluid Pig. He is back in my area. I wrote about him here. We talked for a good five days before he arrived. He was staying in Ann Arbor the night before. We texted after his play session that night. He: “7 loads today and managed not to cum, oink! My balls are going to explode when you shove your big cock in my hole tomorrow. I hope I can concentrate at work.” I wrote back: “I know you like multiple guys. I can’t get many good tops out here, but I promise you more loads than your seven of today.” He wanted to know more. I refused to tell him… He looks great. He is over six feet. He has trimmed some of his fur, but it looks good enough for my tongue to get lost in. And that ass…The Pig doesn’t wait for an invite or instruction. He just gets on the fuckbench. His ass is big and full. His jock is black, with a couple of white stripes on the pouch. I sink to my knees and stick my tongue up that hole that took so much cock the day before. He groans. He reaches back and spreads his ass for me. I snap a pic. I lick. My tongue goes deep. But I don’t spend as long as usual. I need to get my cock into him. He huffs poppers the moment I stand up. He tells me to fuck him hard. I enter in one continuous thrust. I fuck hard, the sound of my hips on his butt filling the room. “Let me taste your hole, now.” I drop to my knees again, hitting the padded floor. (Nice!) He is a great self luber. I lick some out and swallow. “Now,” I tell him, “I have some cum for you.” I open the cooler. I have a card filled with filled condoms. They are knotted shut and taped to it with a few notes below each one. “From the moment I knew you were coming, I went to the bookstore on two different occasions.” The Pig looks over his shoulder at the card. “Damn…” I pull the red condom off the card. I rip open the knot and hold it against his ass. He shivers at the frozen nugget on his hole. “You wanted extra men. I sucked some guys off at the bookstore. This guy was a plump red head. He shot almost the moment he put it in my mouth.” I turn the condom inside out and push the cum nugget up his ass, knuckle deep. My dripping cock pushes it the rest of the way home. It is melting fast, and is coating his ass canal. It feels amazing, slightly cool at first, then heating up with the friction of the fuck. “Let’s do the sling.” We change over. I need to piss. I hose down his ass crack. He grunts and huffs. I lick him clean. Then I pull out the card again. “This black condom is the cum of a guy I can’t even picture anymore. I just noted that his cock was thick.” I repeat the process, shoving it deep into his gut. I fuck this new load into him. My cock is coated with cum when I pull out. I wipe it off and finger it back into his hole. I fuck it into place. When I pull out, I start pissing on his jock pouch. It pools onto his stomach. I smear it over his chest. I lick down his dripping ass crack. I felch some of the two loads in him. I kiss him, snowballing some cum. “Fuck, I’ve never had a snowball from my ass.” I’m back into the cooler. I pull out the card. I open the orange condom. “This is three loads from my second trip to the bookstore. They are all older dads. All men you wouldn’t look at twice if you met them. Guys you would never let breed you—but that’s what they are going to do.” I push the loads into him. He is moaning, and calling me names. And so turned on that his hard cock is poking out of his jock. I fuck the three dads into his gut. The next condom is really full. “It’s only from two guys. One was an annoying fucker who was thrilled I’d suck him off. The big load in there is from this straight guy who came to the bookstore directly from his coaching job, still in his gear. He smelled of sweat in the best way. He made me stop anytime anyone was around. I finally got him off—he shot this huge load.” I work it in with finger and dick. “There are your seven loads—just like you had last night.” “So hot. You can put anything up my hole.” “Good.” I rip the final condom off the card. “This is one I just picked up off the floor there. Nice and full for you.” “Shit…” I fuck it home before he can say anything else. His hole is just dripping jizz. I fuck and fuck, churning the cum, making it froth. “Get up. Rimseat time.” I get under it. I steal a hit of poppers from him. Then he sits, his ass filling the seat. I lick at the salty froth I’ve made. I swallow and probe deeper. He opens. The cum begins to drip into mouth. It’s been there once before. And now it is again, straight from his ass. I lick and slurp. I stop jerking my own dick for fear of wasting my load. I tap his thighs. “Up.” He gets back on the bench and I enter him. He knows I’m close. He reaches down under himself and strokes his cock, hoping to relieve those blue balls of his. I fuck. I shoot. In three or four strokes, so does he. “I’m load nine,” I grunt. I pull out, scoop up some of his lad off the floor and push it in. “And yours is load ten… More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Kalamazoo—August, 2013 My busy summer was winding down. I was actually able to spend some time on bbrt. It rarely works out—that someone wants to fuck when you are in that It-has-to-be-now-or-not-for-another-week” mode. But it did. A hot younger man, who had talked to me at the top of the summer, was looking. And as a bonus, he had a bottom friend over. “Do you do threeways?” he asked. I typed back that he could twist my arm. “I’ll be happy to fuck more than one hole,” I pecked out. He sent me the address, with the added postscript: “You know him.” Oh. Really? I got in the car and headed out. His apartment was the top floor of a converted Victorian home. The remains of beautiful woodwork were everywhere—now all painted a dull off-white for the college rental crowd. And he had no bed. A futon mattress, with no frame, was spread out on the ragged carpeting of the living room. But I didn’t care. Damian was hot. Caucasian, mid to late 30’s, and with great arms and chest. His head was shaved, and he had several tattoos—beautiful ones that showed the tattooist was a true artist. He was in nothing but a pair of designer underwear. Porn blared from the television and a laptop. He and his friend were both working their phones and, it seemed, occasionally sucking on each other’s cock. “And you know Andre…” There sat a man I hadn’t seen in years. Andre and I played off and on for a couple of years—until a last odd session. We would likely have played again after that, but he got a boyfriend soon after. He was one of the first men I found in my area who was a piss pig. He loved to be covered and suck my cock. I liked to drink his piss and suck him. We had great fun. Until that odd session, that is. We’d met at a cheap motel. I’d taken the sling at his request. He wanted to try my cock up his ass. In the cramped motel, the sling had to go by the window. And it was a fucking FREEZING February. Cold air blew across him from the ill-fitting window. Then, my cock was really too big for his untrained hole. So we went back to the oral thing. But I pushed too deep into his throat and sent him racing to the bathroom, retching all the way. We hadn’t played since… And now here he was—sitting in the middle of the makeshift bed— his beautiful brown skin contrasting with the white sheet thrown over it. Andre smiled. He is about the same age as my host. He’s decently put together, and almost as tall as I am. He has very brief briefs on, as well… I say hello. And strip. I have nothing on but my athletic socks and a cockring in no time. I sit on the bed. Damian gets up from the one chair in the room and goes right for my cock. Andre watches from the farthest corner of the mattress, then moves to the chair with his phone. I let Damian get me hard. He spends a lot of time suckling my balls which I love. I stretch down and slip my hand under the flimsy material covering his ass. I idly pay with his hole as he deep throats me. I motion for Andre to join us. “I just want to watch right now.” I shrug and sink back onto an uncomfortable pillow and let Damian get me wetter and wetter. “Sit on my face.” I push down so there is room for him to straddle my head. He stands up and pulls off his underwear. His butt had looked hot in the pictures on his profile. It’s even better in person. He straddles me and lowers that full and lightly hairy ass to my face. He settles in and sighs as my tongue invades him. He bends forward to suck me, pulling his ass off my face. “Just sit. Don’t worry about me.” He straightens back up and pulls his cheeks apart so I can rim him deeper. I feel a tongue on the head of my cock. Andre has gotten up and is sucking me down. Oh, yeah. This is what heaven should be—my cock in a hot mouth and a full, round butt on my face. Damian grinds himself down on my tongue. He’s more than ready for my cock. He gets up and gets on all fours. I kneel behind him. Damn. He’s tight. I work the head in. He grunts and tells me to go slowly. I slow. Andre sits next to us stroking. I let spit trickle from my mouth onto my shaft. I ease into him. It takes forever, but I get balls deep up his hole. I hold in place. I feel his hole relax. Just. I begin a slow fuck. Before I can work up any speed, he asks me for a break. We break. I suck on Andre. He sucks me. I work myself back up Damian. “It’s a great cock, I just can’t take it for long.” I hate how cramped we are on the mattress. I feel like I’m pushing in from a less than ideal angle. We break again. Damian convinces Andre to try taking it. Andre takes it—barely. We stop. It’s not a good fuck. We try oral in a circle. Andre leaves us to it, to get back online. I suck Damian’s cock but soon slip farther back to eat his now fucked and open hole. “Get up.” I stand. Damian looks up at me from the mattress. “Come on.” He gets up. “Now bend over.” I tap the arm of the chair where Andre is tapping out messages. He bends over. It’s such a gorgeous ass. I spend a long time eating it out. Again. I spit on my cock. I stand behind him. In this new position, I slide right up him. “Oh my God,” grunts out Damian. “I am so full.” I have great leverage to give him the fuck he wanted. I piston into him. After all the foreplay, I’m ready to breed. Andre has stopped typing. His eyes are riveted to us. Damian is working his small cock. I am slamming my big one up his butt. The only sound now is the slap of skin on skin. “You want it?” “Please.” “Yeah?” “Give me your cum.” “Breed him,” chimes in Andre. “Here,” I grunt. “Take it. NOW.” I shake and contort. My head snaps back. I feel like I shoot and shoot. I pull out ever so slowly. My cum spills down his hole. Damian reaches back, catches some on his fingers. It goes to his mouth. I pull him up into a wet kiss… More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... An even smaller town than mine—August, 2013 “I’ll have Josh waiting for you,” Cam typed. “Hole opened and ready.” We had played together before—I reported it here, where Cam gave me a little feast of felching pleasure. Tonight, though, would not be in my playroom, Cam—the local married man who loves young men—had the house to himself. This was a good thing, for my playroom was still down for the summer. I liked Josh. He was a bottom who needed none of my special skills—just a solid fucking. He wasn’t afraid of ass to mouth, which was good, for when Cam and I shared hole, it was a given. I found Cam’s house easily in the small town a few miles from my own. Cam’s profile says he is a year or so younger than me, but I’m pretty sure he is a year or two older. He’s is maybe 5’ 10” and decently put together, while going a little soft now. But his average sized cock is always hard and ready. He let me in, totally naked and throbbing. They hadn’t wasted time waiting for me. I stripped in the living room of the small house, while Cam went around the corner to the extra bedroom. Once naked but for my lucky metal cockring, I entered the bedroom myself. It was dark. I couldn’t see a thing for the first 30 seconds. But I could hear: Josh’s loud exhale every time Cam’s dick hit home, the squeak of the old bed, the fleshy sound of hips smacking full ass… I am instantly erect listening to Josh getting fucked. I stroke a little and let my eyes get accustomed to what little light filters in from the bathroom across the hall. I can soon make out Cam kneeling on the mattress, with Josh before him on all fours. I step up on the double bed and move around until my cock is in front of Josh’s face. I sit, my long legs sprawled wide. I scoot forward to connect with his open mouth and not make him pull away from Cam’s fucking. Josh takes me into his mouth. We don’t bother with any kind of greeting—he just wants to get my dick wet and ready for his hole. “Suck him, boy. You wanted two dicks again,” I hear Cam mutter from above us. His fucking is pushing Josh’s mouth down on to me. It’s hot. And I like the idea he has no real say in how fast I go down his throat. “You ready for his ass?” I grunt assent and work my way over the ancient bedspread, back to the foot of the bed. I kneel on the floor. Josh’s used ass is right at eye level. I’d like to clean Cam’s cock, but he’s climbed up to the head of the bed and stuck it in Josh’s mouth. I settle for licking the used fuck hole. He’s incredibly wet. My tongue sinks in. I flick it up and then go as deep as I can. I swallow. There is pre-cum and copious amounts of natural ass lube. My own cock spits a glob of precum. I smear it around my big, flared head with my hand. Then wipe the remains on his hole. I stand. I try to inch it in. But he’s so open, I’m swallowed to the root instantly by his ass. I hold for a moment, then it’s my turn to fuck him hard enough that I force his head down on Cam’s dick. With the light behind me, I can see more of the room we are in. The bed fills almost all of the space. There is a tiny aisle between the wall and the bed on left side to walk. There are shelves above the head of the bed and to my right. They seem to be the repository for everything that no longer is needed to decorate the other rooms of the house or just things his wife can’t bear to throw out. Lots of shell animals from trips to Florida, pennants, the program from Les Miserables. Art prints, more shells and a crocheted item I can’t quite figure out are to my right. Incongruously, a huge container of lube is sitting amongst the tchotchkes. I close my eyes to it all and fuck him hard. When I want a breather, Cam and I switch again. Then, I’m back up his ass. It’s hotter and wetter. Finally, for the first time of the night, Josh speaks: “My knees need a break.” We all have some water. Cam and Josh share a rum and coke. I am sprawled on the bed. My cock is still rock hard. Josh takes another sip and then straddles me. He is facing me. I can just see the look of pain/pleasure on his face as he lowers himself down on my rigid tool. I close my eyes and concentrate on how his hole is squeezing my cock. He gets his knees under himself and bounces with abandon. Cam gets between my spread legs. He is nuzzling my balls. When we first met, I would do things like that to him and he’d blow instantly, for even with all his group play, no one had ever done that to him. I’m in no danger of shooting, but I love the feel of the rough tonguing I am receiving on my full balls as my shaft is caressed by hot ass. Eventually I signal for Josh to get up. I roll out from under as he stands on the bed. Cam takes my place. Josh sits on his cock. It’s my turn to lick some balls. My tongue goes up the shaft as far as I can. I can’t make him cum like that anymore. Cam is too used to how I like to play. “Wanna DP him?” asks Cam. I don’t answer. I just push Josh forward, so he and Cam are chest to chest. Cam is still up him. I put my cock head against his shaft. I push forward. My cock head enters him. Josh gasps. I hold for a moment. I inch forward. Cam flops out. “Let me be anchor.” I flop to the bed. Josh scrambles onto my dick. I pull him down so we are chest to chest. I can feel Cam’s cock head press against his hole. He pushes. Then again. Then he’s in. It doesn’t last long, but it’s great to feel his cock sliding along the underside of my dick. Cam pushes Josh just a little too far forward. We both flop out. We have another water break. “I need to get off and get out of here,” I tell them. Josh knows how I like it. He goes back to all fours, right on the foot of the bed, so I can stand and pound into him. “You want my load?” “Yeah, give it him,” says Cam before Josh can answer. “Please,” grunts Josh. I bend and lick his overused hole. My cock drools. I push it in. I concentrate on the feelings welling up in my balls. I shoot. And again. I buck and thrash and end up on Josh’s back. I stay in him, marinating in his spermed hole. I flop down on the bed. I am barely conscious of Cam entering him. “Damn, I don’t usually get to fuck in your load.” He’s right, Cam almost always cums first. “It feels so good. It is so…” He never finishes the sentence. He breeds Josh with a loud grunt, flattening Josh to the bed. I slide off the foot bed and get between the two sets of legs. Josh’s hole has been truly churned with our cum. It’s frothy and beautiful. My tongue inches forward… More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... North of Home—August, 2013 I have a fuck bud who never tires of pointing out all the places he’s had sex. If we are riding together in his home town, he will inevitably start pointing to various motels, apartment buildings, alleys, warehouses, and parks with no more than the sentence: “And I’ve had sex there.” Well, there are two motels built fairly recently on I-94 that every time I pass them, I have always thought “Why have I NOT had sex there?” This August provided me with checking the first of them off my imaginary to do list. He’s a bear of a man. He’s tall and just older than I. His pics reveal a barrel of a chest, with copious amounts of fur. He has thick tree trunks of legs and, in the last picture, a beautifully defined ass. “Fuck me?” he writes. “Love that cock pic.” We chat. He’s at the one of those expensive new motels on business. He’s from somewhere out West. Having been burned before, I ask if he has clean out supplies with him. His answer is no, he’s brought nothing with him. And he really doesn’t want to go get anything. So fucking is off the table. But we are both horny. We both have a big oral side. We agree on an all oral session an hour from now. I nod to the night clerk. I walk in like I know just where I am going. Larry’s told me where the elevators are located. Without looking lost or confused, I stride right to them, punch the button and go through the double doors before the clerk can question me. I get out on the third floor. I find the room easily. I knock. It swings open. “Nice,” he tells me appreciatively as I step in. He looks just like his pictures, which is good for me. He’s dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers. He leads me to the foot of the bed. He is instantly down on his knees, undoing the buttons of my 501’s. He pulls them down, just past my knees. His mouth is all over my grey boxer briefs. His spit changes their color from light grey to a wet, dark grey. My cock is beginning to stand up. Finally, he pulls them down. My cock all but slaps him in the face. He rears back, spits into his hand and, just taking the tip of my cock into his mouth, he begins jerking the shaft. His tongue is invading my piss slit. Then it’s all over my flared head, swabbing it with the precum he’s licked up. I hold his head still, knocking his hand off my cock. I begin a slow face fuck. He groans. I have hit on something really good, it seems. I see his cock, sticking out of the boxer’s fly, drool. I push a little deeper with each slow stroke. I never quite get it all the way down his throat. We stop to let me get naked. He undoes my boots. I shuck off the jeans and the underwear. He takes my socks off lovingly, but stops short of working over my toes. I pull him up. I pull the shorts off and take his cock in my mouth. He’s thick, but not long. I take him to the root repeated. He pulls me off, begging a short fuse. “Fuck my face.” He flops down onto the bed, on his back with his head hanging over the edge of the bed. I straddle his head and push in. This is good. I’m in total control. And he can take me much deeper. His gag reflex seems to turn off in this position. I fuck his face. Deep. We break. He takes a piss but I don’t ask if he’d like to feed me—I’d ruin the dynamic. We sixty-nine. Something I haven’t done in year. Then I’m back to fucking his face. He is really moaning now. His hand is all over his own cock and balls. I thrust again and he shoots into the hair on his chest. I pull out as I lean forward and lick some of it up. That’s enough to make me will myself to blast my own cum across his chest, to mix with all that he’s shot. **** We are lying side by side, talking about this and that. Then a silence. “I’m new to all this,” he says aloud to the room, not really looking at me. “Oh?” “I didn’t have gay sex until I was 48. I’m just 57 now.” “Did you want to have sex with men when you were in high school?” “I thought about it. But I didn’t know how to start. Now I can’t get fucked enough.” “So did you mess around back then at all?” “Nope. I got my date pregnant after the senior prom when I was 17. We married for the kid.” “That took care of that….” “Right. But he knows now, my boy. He’s very supportive.” “That’s good.” A pause. “The next time I come up here I’d love to have you fuck me. I didn’t bring my hose ‘cuz I usually share a room with another guy.” I nod. “When we come back, I’ll make sure we book separate rooms again.” I smile. This was going to likely be a forgettable encounter—made memorable only by finally fucking in this new high end motel. Instead, I find it hard to forget the man who was in limbo all those years—and is now bent on making up for lost time… More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Near Home—August, 2013 Work was still heavy at the top of August, but I found time to escape on another Friday night to the closest bookstore… I am in the straight theatre. No one is here tonight—except guys who check in, see nothing happening and then go back to wandering. The movie is average, at best, as it can’t make my cock stay hard. It’s shaping up to be a waste of time. But it can all change with one man. The door buzzes. I watch a younger man come in. I’ve seen him around. He watches other guys have sex and beats himself furiously, rarely letting anyone touch him. And that’s a shame. I find him very handsome. I guess he’s in his late 30’s, perhaps 6 feet tall. He seems to be in shape, but the clothes he chooses to wear disguise his physique. He looks a little wary when he sees me. I am sitting against the left wall. He chooses a seat on the right wall, directly across from me. My cock gets hard. I look at the porn, I look at him. I stroke slowly—showing him my full length. He looks away. He’s now watching the porn and kneading his khaki trousers. I look back at the porn. I glance at him again. His crotch has mounded nicely. Our eyes meet. They hold for a second. He looks away, but he unzips. He pulls out a bigger than average cock. His hand flogs it, fast and tightly. Silence. Except for the moans from the screen and the sound of the two of us stroking. Unexpectedly, he gets up and sits next to me. “Will you cum on me?” he asks in a low voice. “I want to be covered with your jizz.” I smile at him. “Perhaps.” He just looks at me. “If you will help me get off.” He says nothing. We both go back to looking at the screen. But almost immediately, his hand is reaching for my cock. He strokes me, just as hard and fast as he does himself. It’s not what I like at all. I touch his wrist. The pressure on his arm slows him down. He strokes me at a better pace. I add spit. It’s feeling good now. The door buzzes. He pulls back his hand as though my dick gave him a shock. The new occupant is the young college guy from the other night—the one who wanted me to fuck him, but the other daddy got up him before I could get to his ass. He sits opposite from us. In no time he removes his t-shirt and shorts. He beats a nice sized cock. He grins at me. I nod and he quickly comes over and settles between my legs. He gives great head. The shy man watches, stroking faster. He opens his shirt. He repeats his request to be jizz covered. He kicks his pants down around his ankles. The college kid is getting me close. It must be really working for him, too. He stands up. I think for a moment he’s going to sit on my cock, but he pulls my head forward to take his dick. He’s shooting. Big. Like 20 year olds do. I hold it in my mouth. When he pulls out, I lean over and let it drip onto the Shy Ones chest, who moans in ecstasy. He beats harder, but doesn’t get off. The college guy looks at his load on the other guy, grins and gets dressed, leaving us alone. The Shy One turns to me. “Yours, too.” “Then suck me.” I say it without thinking. I know he won’t do that. He looks at me. Then he gets on his knees. He just looks at my cock for a long time. He’s stopped stroking himself. I pull my cock towards my chest, raising my balls—offering him to start there. His tongue snakes out. And makes contact. He whimpers. I sigh. It feels great as he makes them very wet. I push my cock down. I want it inside his mouth. He looks at it for a moment, then ovals his lips. I’m in. He takes over half of me. He’s not a good cocksucker. But he is sucking wholeheartedly. I worry about teeth, but the mind game of getting him to do it is still hot enough to keep him in place. Eventually he tires. He can feel I am not close at all. He gets up and sits back in his chair. “Why don’t I suck yours.” He shakes his head. Then mutters something. “What?” “You could eat my ass,” he says, louder this time. Really? When he knows that other guy’s load was in my mouth? I don’t wait for him to think about it. I hunker down between his now spread legs. I find the tight hole. He’s clean and ready for me. My tongue pushes in. A loud groan erupts from his face. He starts talking dirty—telling me what to do. I lick and spit, pushing in the saliva. “Put your finger in me.” I take direction. My long, bony middle finger glides up his wet hole. In moments, he points his cock at me and shoots a load all over my face—the forehead, the nose, and my left temple. I come up for air and scramble to my feet. I’m just in time to ass a fresh load to the one drying on his chest. More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... The Next Town Over—August, 2013 The phone rang. I have put it in a little pocket on the console of my Ford Focus. I reach for it and flip it open. (Yes, I still have a flip phone. And I like it.) “Yes?” “It’s off. He thinks he wants to go home,” sighs the producer of the Transman porn website. “I’m over halfway there.” It’s my turn to sigh. “Wait a minute, I’ll call you back. Keep on coming.” A mile later the phone rings again. “He’ll do it,” the producer barks out, before I can even say hello. “See you in just a few.” We’ve done the paper work. I’ve signed my waiver. Justin has signed his. The producer disappears to get us coffee. Justin and I talk a little. The young man opposite me in the under furnished family room is dark blond, with his hair cut short. He is maybe 5’8” and trim. He lives in Chicago and is here for the weekend. Whatever the problem had been, it seems to be resolved. I want to make sure he won’t change his mind mid-scene. As soon as the producer returns and hands him some sort of fancy coffee, he disappears to shower and get ready. I set up the sling in the master bedroom. “We’ll start on the bed in the small room,” the producer tells me. “Then invite him to your place for a ride in the sling. I trust you to improve some dialogue.” I nod. No worries there. I strip down. I feel incredibly naked without boots and jock. “Put your underwear back on.” I step back into my grey boxer briefs. They cover my growing bulge, mounding it nicely. The small room, even lit by the umbrella reflected lights, is cool. Justin really feels it walking out of the steamy bathroom and sitting on the smaller bed. “Ok. We set?” asks the producer. “Oh, no anal. Keep it all front hole. And action.” I am a tad disappointed. I love three holes to play in. We improvise something about a mutual attraction—something about how we’ve always wanted to meet. I pull him into a kiss. He responds. He’s a good kisser. No reservations at all. My index finger traces the tattoos on his shoulder and bicep. We knead each other’s underwear. I pull mine down, so my cock flops free. Soon he’s sucking my dick. He’s bent at the waist, in an awkward position. I flatten out on the bed. I pull him down so he can take my cock more easily. I love the feel of his younger skin against my chest. “Sixty-nine,” comes the prompt from the producer. We pause as Justin gets rid of red underwear. I twist my head so I’m under him. My tongue finds his asshole. He grunts in appreciation as I connect. I linger there then work down to his front hole. I lick and swallow. I spit and reach around to play with his now wet t-cock as my tongue invades his hole. Justin squirms and takes me to the root. Without waiting for a prompt, he pulls forward and settles down on my cock, facing away from me and towards the camera. I watch the lens zoom in so it sees nothing but my oversized, wet cock splitting him in two. When the camera pulls back, Justin reverses. He bends towards me to kiss me as I continue to pound up into his front hole. “Taste yourself on me.” I wonder if he’ll want to, but he gets right off me and takes my cock to the root. He sucks me and then comes up to kiss me deeply. It’s my turn to sigh. I get a sign from the producer. I ask Justin if he’d like to try the sling at my house. “Break.” We all take a moment to drink water—or the remains of our coffee. The room has warmed. We make the trip down to the other bedroom. The producer brings the lights and sets them up so he gets the fewest shadows possible. “Ready?” “Sure.” I look at Justin. He’s already in the sling, making clear his answer. I get his feet in the stirrups. “Action.” I kneel and work my tongue around his ass, then into his front hole. My lips surround his t-cock (the least pronounced I have had in my mouth.) I stand up and sink my cock into Justin. I fuck a few strokes and then stand still. I push the sling away from with my hands on the d-rings. I pull him back onto me. Hard. He grunts. He seems to really like this. I don’t move. I just fuck him onto my cock—pulling him towards me and pushing him away. My hips suddenly take over, without my really thinking about it. I am slamming into him. “Go for the cum shot.” Really? Already? “Don’t cum in my hole—I’m not on testosterone right now.” The producer hands me some paper towel. I hold it in my hand. I go back to fucking him. When I think I’m close, I dip down to taste the hole. The amount of wetness on my tongue sends me over the edge. I stand up, wadding the towel in his front hole, out of camera line (I hope), and stroke off a big load that covers his abdomen and t-cock. “And cut.” It’s all business now. I wash a little, dress and pack the sling up. Justin and I get it downstairs to the front foyer. “Here.” It’s the producer coming towards the front door from the kitchen. He hands me my check. I smile and thank him. I pocket it—grateful for the car payment I just made in no time at all. This shoot is still waiting to be edited. There are a couple of stills (like the one above here.) More...

Thanks......Things really picked up for me in August. My work load lessened and I had more time to get back to my piggish ways...

Thanks... I'd be happy to work you over....

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Near Home—August, 2013 The beginning of August found me back at the bookstore. It happened to be the same night one of *****’s minions was there… I am sitting in the straight theatre, but it’s all gay sex happening. There are seven of us in the dark room. I am sitting on the end of the couch. The chairs are pushed against the side walls. Moments ago, all of us were simply stroking, furtively eyeing each other. Now all sorts of couplings have erupted. To my right, two daddies were sitting on either side of a college guy. The boy is now down on his knees, sucking the two older cocks, giving them equal time. Two guys sit to my left, too. They are now stroking each other. Soon, one stands up, thrusting his cock into the other’s mouth. I am rampant. I jerk—staring mostly at the boy on the floor. The daddy who is not currently in the boy’s mouth stands up. He walks towards me. He wears an olive drab A-shirt, covering his well-developed chest. Hair tufts out the top of the fabric. His cut-offs are splayed open so his heavy cock swings free. He has army boots on his feet, just like me. I can’t take my eyes off his left shoulder. There, in Old English script, is a tattoo reading “999.” “Suck this.” He stands, feet apart and hands on hips, demanding service, right in front of me. I lean forward and take him into my mouth. He instantly begins pumping into my face. His hands find my ears, holding me in place. I think he’s going to shoot. But, no. He just likes to be as deep into me as possible. He holds his cock in place, pulls out and fucks my mouth shallowly, then goes in until he mashes his pubes into my nose. The thickness of his cock produces that thick, deep-throat spittle in the back of my throat. As he pulls out of my mouth, it covers my goatee in long strands. To the other guys, I’m sure it looks like he shot his load. Mr. 999 pulls me up. He kisses me hungrily, cleaning my mouth and beard. My cock presses against his wet one. He looks down. That’s all it takes—he’s on his knees, greedily taking me to the hilt. I notice his hands do that reflexive move of going behind his back. Fuck being the sub—I am in charge. “Suck my cock!” I tell him. “All the way to the balls.” But he’s already there. I can feel his beard stubble against my low hangers. “Now the head. Get your tongue in my fucking slit.” My voice is low. Insistent. Commanding. His left hand grips his right wrist to keep his hands in place. “Yes, Sir,” he mumbles, his words barely audible with my meat in his mouth. It’s my turn to grab his head and fuck his face. The college kid has stopped fellating the other Dad. He sits on the floor watching me. I pull away and sit back down on the couch, my pants around my ankles. “Here, boy.” I lift my ball sack slightly. “Get your tongue between my balls and my cockring.” He has to crawl to get there. And he does, pulling himself across the dried cum on the floor from earlier in the day. His face is buried now, right where I told him to go. He does it—he gets his tongue wedged between the tight metal band and my furry balls. I let him lap and suckle. I lean back and push his head down. His tongue goes right on down my perineum. Is he hesitating about licking my asshole? I don’t let him decide. I just push him the rest of the way down. His tongue connects. I groan. He moans. He pushes deep. “Eat me out,” I mutter. He is grunting and spitting, making my hole as wet as possible. When I tire of his rim job, I pull him up. He thinks I’m leaning forward to kiss him, but I spit in his mouth. This makes him groan louder. I push him to the floor. “Lick my boots.” He pulls the right foot towards him. His tongue is doing it right, pressing hard to massage my foot through the leather. I watch him clean the toes, the tongue, and how he lifts it to try for the heel. “Do the other.” He switches to my left. The young college guy is watching, his eyes large. He stands and steps out of his shorts. His t-shirt gets thrown on a chair. He comes toward me. He turns and pulls a chair from the wall. He bends, supporting himself on the chair. His ass is right there. I can’t quite reach it, but the request is obvious. I turn to Mr. 999. I try to pull my left foot out of his grasp. In the moment it takes before I can get up, the Daddy the boy had been sucking stands and has his cock up the boy’s butt. The boy grunts, but takes the raw cock willingly. His hand jerks his own cock as the Daddy plows. It only takes a few strokes until he shoots jet after jet of cum on the floor. He pulls abruptly away from the Daddy, not letting him finish. I stretch down and scoop up some of the boy’s cum. I smear it on my boot. “Clean it.” Mr. 999 doesn’t hesitate at all. He greedily cleans my boot of the viscid cum. “Now the rest.” There are three or four large patches of fresh cum from the college guy on the grungy floor. He crawls away from me. He licks up each puddle. On the last one, he sits back on his haunches and shows me the cum on his tongue. He makes a show of swallowing it. I stand. “Stay.” I step to him. “Open.” He tries to take my cock in his mouth. I push him back. I shoot all over his face. It’s in his eyebrow, up his nose, with most of it landing in his mouth and beard stubble. I stand there. “Now shoot.” He jerks himself as he licks up the cum he can reach on his face. He grunts. And my left boot is covered again. I let him recover for a second, then push his face into the cummy mess he’s made. My left boot in on the back on his neck. “Now clean it up…” *****’s minion grunts his agreement. His tongue leaves me spit shined. And happy. More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Near Home—July, 2013 I ended my July sexploits with yet another trip to the bookstore on the last Friday night of the month. I am sitting in the gay theatre. I am currently alone. My cock is wet. I have been letting a man suck it. He was attractive enough—mid 40’s, in decent shape and with a real cock hunger. His teeth were only an occasional hazard, but it was pretty good head. He never stopped jerking himself as he slurped and swallowed my dick. It came to an end as he shot his load onto the floor. There is now a viscid puddle of cum glinting between my boots. I look up at the screen. I hate the porn which is playing—bad acting, carefully rehearsed body placement with passionless, wrapped fucking. I stand and try to get my hard, damp cock back into my jock strap. I finally give up and just button the pants at the waist and let the fly tent. A muffled moan comes through the venting grate that separates the gay theatre from the straight theatre. I head out and around. I am buzzed into the other dark space. It’s alive with people. A straight couple sits on the couch. They are not particularly attractive, but the hottest man in the room, is sitting next to them. His hand is deep between her legs. Two guys sit against the far wall jerking. The main event is certainly another straight couple. She is kneeling on the seat of a chair. She is being plowed by a man, old enough to be her dad, who is grunting his release as I shut the door. Her husband is to one side, holding her, playing with her naked breasts and making sure her head doesn’t get slammed into the cinder block wall with the violent fucking she’s receiving. She is attractive with short blond hair. Her denim skirt is pulled up around her waist. Her pastel top lies in a twisted pile on the floor. The daddy fucking her pulls out. He’s shot into the condom. He pulls it off rather roughly. The woman turns and sits in the chair. “You want him to pour that on you?” asks her husband. “Oh, yes.” The daddy looks confused for a moment, but then pours the contents of the used rubber on to her breasts. She massages his cum into her exposed tits. A younger Black man steps forward. The husband gives him a rubber. The new fucker rips it open, and rolls it down a long, thin cock. The woman gets up and resumes her kneeling position. The young man inserts. He instantly starts to piston into her. He grunts “I’m cumming” in no time at all. Once again her breasts are doused in cum from the used condom. I move away from the door and sit on her side of the room. I pull out my turgid cock and stroke. The hot man from the couch stands up and adds his cum load onto her breasts as well, but live. He jerks a big load on her already sticky front. She thanks him and reaches for his dripping cock. He’s too sensitive for her to touch it and pulls away. A guy about my age, sitting next to the screen, stands up. His cock swings free from his shorts. He’s big. Easily my size. The husband looks at the cock approaching his wife. “I don’t have any large sized condoms.” “I’ve got my own.” He pulls out a Magnum. “Honey, you want a big one?” She doesn’t respond, she just gets back up her knees. The man rips open the foil pack and makes a show of getting the Magnum on his big cock. The husband hands him some lube. Mr. Big Dick greases up then slips into the woman. He is a great fucker. You can tell by watching him. You can hear it in her voice as she responds to not just being a receptacle. He varies his pace, and the angle of his thrusts. He pulls out and slaps his encased cock against her. He’s right back in. His pace is now in high gear. The room fills with the slap of flesh on flesh. It’s loud enough they must be able to hear it out in the video sales area. The fucker pulls out. “Turn around.” She does. Just in time to take his first shot on the chin. The rest of his load goes all over her breasts. They talk a little as the man cleans up with paper towel from this pocket. It’s the couple’s first time here. They came on a Friday to avoid the Saturday couples night. “If I’d known it would be this much fun,” she chirped, “we’d have come here years ago.” The man leaves. The older, less attractive couple leaves with him. There are just the two strokers left. And me. The husband looks at them. One, then the other, shakes his head. The husband turns to me. After my FTM experiences, I’d been considering it. But not after I heard him say he had no Magnums. And neither do I. I tell him so. “I don’t think I can take any more tonight, honey,” she tells her husband. He helps her get cleaned up and dressed. He finally has a mound in his pants as he watches her get the cum off her breasts. I hope he goes home and fucks her used hole until he unloads. They leave, all smiles. I watch the porn for a while. The other guys leave. No one else arrives. I head next door to the gay theatre. There is another couple, two men, both with pants around their ankles, going at it on the couch. One is the mostly cute young man I’d fucked a few weeks ago (who had the unfortunate drip after he’d pulled off me.) His partner is an older Black man. Flecks of grey are at his temples. His shirt is open and the young man is twisting his thick right nipple. His other hand is jerking a thick, curved cock. The older man is squeezing the young one’s balls. They smile at me. I let my pants fall as I stand before them. They look at my hard cock, but make no move for it. I wait. The hell with it. I drop to my knees. I take first one then the other into my mouth. I revel in the contrasts: Black and White, older and younger, thick and curved vs. thin and slightly curved. I have the Black guy close very fast. He shoots down my throat while his cry on release is muffled by his face being buried in the young man’s neck. He unceremonious stands up and moves away the moment I’m done swallowing. The young man is jerking, his T-shirt pulled up to his neck. I try to take his cock into my mouth, but he pushes my head down to lick his balls. The moment I connect with them he shoots all over his smooth chest. I reach for my cock, but it’s too late, I don’t shoot. The young man sighs and pats my head. It’s dead the rest of my time there. I never find a hungry cock sucker to take care of me. But I do spend a long time stroking on the couch, thinking about the exhibitionists of the night… More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Near Home—July, 2013 Once again I used the bookstore as the easiest way to get off during my busy summer… There is no one there. Well, there is one doddering old man who relentlessly shuffles back and forth between the two theatres. There were cars in the parking lot, but the men must be in the arcade. They certainly aren’t here. Fortunately the porn is good. I sit in the straight theatre and watch large muscle men have anal sex with petite women. There is lots of ass to mouth for the women. And one of the men, used in over half of the scenes, cannot keep his handsome face out of each woman’s ass. I am particularly aroused when the finale has two men—one white and one black—taking turns on a tiny Hispanic woman. The door opens. I don’t bother trying to hide my erection. I just continue stroking. I glance over. The man is in the farthest corner behind the door. The usual spot guys go to when they want to be sucked in a semi-private space. I look at him again. No big deal. He’s a pretty typical man in later middle age, wearing shorts and a baggy shirt. But he’s not standing there to be trade. He’s standing there to get dressed. The baggy shirt comes off over his head. A frilly blouse is beneath it. He drops the Bermuda shorts to the floor. His pink panties are thong cut. A skirt is rolled up around his waist. He rolls it down. It hits just above the knee. His shoes are sandals that are rather gender neutral. From his bust he removes a blond wig, cut in a short page boy style. I look at him get it in place, covering his thinning hair. He rolls the two outer garments together, than carefully parades to the chairs directly across from me. He sits demurely. He crosses his legs at the ankle and feigns great concentration on the movie. Soon the looks begin. He sneaks glances at my swollen meat. He never lets them linger very long. When I catch him, I smile but he won’t return it. I just keep stroking and go back to the movie. The door buzzes. It’s the old man. He looks at me. He looks at the man (who would fool no one in his drag.) The old man mutters under his breath and shuffles out the door. I stroke. His hand kneads a bulge under his skirt. The door buzzes. It’s a hot looking guy in his mid-40’s. He has short, dark hair and is wearing a dingy T-shirt, cargo pants and sandals. He sits on the couch which is between where the two of us sit, plastered against one wall or the other. He looks at me. He looks at the man. He looks back at me and unzips. I can’t see his cock, but he’s stroking from the moment he’s pulled it out. The guy in drag looks over. His hand disappears up his skirt. I look back at the screen. I watch the two men on the screen reverse who’s in her ass and who’s in her mouth. I sense movement across from me and look over at the other two. The guy in drag is on the floor giving the hot guy head. Damn. That was amazingly fast. I wonder if they know each other. There is a grunt. I can’t tell who made it—but someone just came. It’s the guy in drag. He gets up carefully and goes back to his dressing spot. His load is shiny and white on the dark tile, reflecting the light from the television screen. He reverses the process and reverts to his everyday appearance. He leaves. The guy on the couch slides closer to me. I go over and stand in front of him. I’m glad he moved down so I’m not standing in the other guy’s load. His handsome face is immediately pressed to my pelvic bone. He has me all the way down his throat. Eventually he comes up for air, flopping back into the couch. I kneel. I pull the cargo pants down so I can get at his cock. Jesus. Maybe they did know each other. He’s wearing women’s underwear as well, his in light blue. I pull his cock around the silky material, and take his small dick into my mouth. My finger snakes under him and finds his ass. He likes the attention to his cock, but the sigh as my finger plays around his hole tell me what I need to know. I pull him toward me, and raise his legs in the air. The blue strip of thong material is no match for my tongue—it can’t protect his hole. I am pushing into it, rimming him deep. I can’t hold him that way for too long. He flips over, so he’s on all fours. I get lost in his lightly haired ass. I stand. My cock slaps his ass. “I can’t,” he moans. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” He swings around into a seated position. “I’ve been fucked too many times today.” I nod and sit next to him. I guess the real reason is he wants a condom. “Would you jerk off on my ass?” He’s already squirming around, assuming I’m going to say yes. He’s back to kneeling on the couch, his head cradled in his arms on the back. The way the evening is going, I guess this is the best I’ll get. I stand and slap his ass—which still has the T of the thong running down his crack. I spit on my palm and slather it on my cock. I stroke. He’s busy talking—telling me how he wants my big cock another time. How his ass could easily take a man my size. How I need to fuck his pansy ass. I shoot. It’s the only time I’ve shot this week—it’s a big load. He makes more noise than I do. I watch his hand reach back. He smears my cum all over his hairy cheeks—then starts working it up his hole. Damn—I was wrong about his wanting latex. He works most of my load into his ass. He’s missed one spurt—I swab it down to his hole and let him push it into his man hole. The blue material of the thong strap is now sopping with my jizz. I mop up the remainder on my palm. The man digs into his wallet. He gives me his business card. I hope to get my cum into him, directly, the next time we meet. More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Rural Rest Area Near Home—July, 2013 When I started having gay sex, I just wanted to suck cock. But even the night I lost my virginity with a man; the guy took one look at my big, hard cock and sat on it. I mean, the thirty years with my partner were pretty much all about mutual oral sex. Of course we tried everything in that length of time together, but oral sex was to what we always returned. Now, there are still days that sucking is really the only kind of sex I want to have. I have learned that sometimes it’s best to keep my cock in my pants as I suck. No temptations. There is an “unimproved” rest area off the beaten track near my home. It is favored by truck drivers and farmers with only an occasional family. Last year it was a good place for relief with my busy summer. For some reason, I barely went to it this year. The one time there I met up with Bill. (He has made a brief appearance in these pages here. I have said before, I love to fuck ass that I perceive as my age or younger. I love to suck the cock of a man who is older than me. As I age, it’s getting harder to find men to even vaguely be a “daddy,” but Bill is perfect at 66 or 67. His years of growing up working a farm show in his sinewy arms. He’s stayed trim. He has a goatee and a fringe of white hair. His face is weathered from the sun and from the cigarettes that he has now given up. Usually in jeans and a plaid shirt, in the heat of July, he was in an A-shirt that showed off his arms and the top tufts of the hair on his chest. And there’s his cock. Thick and meaty. It hooks down sharply. If I am on my knees in front of him, it goes right down my throat at the perfect angle. I am sitting in my car, with half an ear on the classical programing on NPR, reading a play by Enda Walsh. It’s warm, but not nearly as hot as some Julys in Michigan. The rest area is hopping. It is mid-week—the guys have found an excuse to get out of the house. The problem is that there are so many people here, you can’t do anything. Some stroll to the pit toilet, then go back to their vehicle and drive off—lingering at the intersection, hoping someone will follow them to some lonesome place. I have seen no one that inspires me to want to do that. I go to the water pump. I fill my water bottle. I hear a larger vehicle arrive. It’s Bill. I sit back in my car and wait for him to make the obligatory pit stop. When he comes out, he heads for the pump—which means he has to pass my car. “Hello there, stranger.” His voice is deep and gruff. It’s been almost a year since we’ve seen each other. “How are you?” “I need you.” He hefted the waistband of his jeans, pulling the fabric taut around his obviously hard cock. “But not here.” “Where do you think?” “The lake. Follow me.” He gets back in his pickup. I follow him to a manmade lake—one that had been a byproduct of making the highway. He backs into on overgrown parking space. I pull in and get out of my car. You can hear kids in the water a long ways away, but there is no one near us. Bill is eager. He has his jeans open by the time I jump into the cab. “I’ll keep watch.” I get to work. It’s cramped in the front seat of the truck, but from the look of things, I won’t be here long. I lick around the head and swallow the whole shaft down. I have to twist slightly to get the hook to lodge as I like it. I come up for air and go down two or three times. This time he holds me in place and fucks into my ovaled mouth. I think he’s going to shoot, but he holds off. “Let me see yours.” I undo my pants. I am hard from servicing him. He gives me a few preliminary licks. Then he takes me until he gags. The angle is bad, so Bill only gets about half my cock. I lean back over, adjust to the best angle, and let him fuck into my mouth. This time he shoots. Hooked in place. Spewing his seed directly into my gut. “Damn. You are the only guy I let do that.” I come up and look at him. “Well, there’s one other” he amends. “I wouldn’t let most of those guys touch me.” I thank him. “I didn’t do anything with another guy until we met a couple of years ago.” “Did you ever want to—growing up?” “I thought about it. But it was too much hassle. I got married by nineteen.” He thinks a moment. “I wasted a lot of time…” We both let that sentence hang in the air. A car is coming down the gravel path to where we are—we can hear it though not see it yet. We both are zipped up and pulled together by the time the junker pulls past us on the way to the fishing spot. ***** I saw Bill again in August, almost immediately after the playroom was set back up. He looked at all the apparatus—the sling, the fuck bench, the rimseat—but said nothing. We played on the bed. It was nice to be naked with him, but it was over for him just as fast. He hooked his cock down my throat and I got another gut full. “Did I tell you I’m getting my dick fixed?” “No,” I sounded surprised, even to my ears. “That curve. The doc says he can straighten it. I fell off a bike as a kid and the seat hit me—causing all that scar tissue. That’s what makes it hook.” “Right.” “He says he can take it all out and it’ll be straight after all these years.” I smiled encouragingly. He seemed so pleased. He must have hated it all these years—the very thing that I loved the most about sucking him… More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... West Side of Michigan—July, 2013 “I know you have no time,” the producer of the transmale porn site wrote me, “but I have a guy who’s moving away this month. He wants to talk to you about doing a scene before he goes.” I agreed to have a talk with the transman about seeing if we were compatible. Within an hour I received a text arranging a time to have a phone chat. It was a wary conversation at first. Michael was sure I either couldn’t or wouldn’t want to do the things that got him off. “I like a guy to take charge. To use me as he wants.” I explained that was pretty much how I played. I asked about kink. "I’m open to about anything. I love that you have a sling. I can be fisted in both holes.” “How about watersports?” I asked. “Oh, yeah.” “Good.” “I’ve always said just treat me like a sub gay man and we’ll both get what we need.” We talked a little more and found we both had a three hour block of time to do it. Early on a Sunday morning, I made the trip to the producer’s home. The set-up is the same—the bed and the sling at the foot of it. As it works out, Michael has no interest in doing anything on a bed. To keep him happy, we simply start with me ordering him to the floor, and the hood goes on… “Kneel.” We are at the foot of the sling. I am in my leathers—Michael is naked. The camera is filming from Michael’s back. I hand him the hood. He needs to keep his face off the screen. The black cloth goes over his head. There are holes for his eyes and mouth. “Now suck my cock.” He opens wide and takes my helmet head into his mouth. It is incredibly hot to see my cock go into this hooded man. He is 34, maybe 5’ 8” with a nice body. His hairy legs are folded under him. His hands have gone instinctively behind his back. I push deeper into his mouth. My hands find his ears and hold him in place as I face fuck him. I get the wrist restraints off the with sling chains. I buckle his right wrist, then his left. “In the sling.” He hops in. He knows his way around a sling. I snap the restraints to the chains above his head. I get his legs situated in the stirrups. I let out a grunt of appreciation as I look at his two holes. I kneel and lick at his t-cock. He squirms and gasps. I sink lower and explore his front hole with my tongue. I dip lower and poke just as deep into his ass. This makes him groan louder yet. I am ready to fuck. I stand up and slap my cock on his genital mound. I deftly pull back and slide home into his front hole. “Damn!” I fuck deep for several strokes, pull out, slap my cock on his mound again and push my way back into the splayed hole. After several more strokes, I pull out and bring it up to his mouth. “Taste yourself.” He does. With obvious pleasure. I move back around to the foot of the sling and sink my now wetter cock into him to the hilt. I fuck for a long time—hard and fast, followed by languid strokes while I play with his t-cock, to just standing still and pulling the sling to me and then pushing it away. I want to explore more of his ass. I pull out of his front hole. “You want some piss?” I spray his ass with my hard cock, not waiting for a reply. I then bury my face into the dripping hole. I am pushing some of my piss into his ass with my tongue. I lick it out and spit it back. Soon my raw cock pushes into the drenched hole. It’s tight, but he has control. By the time I’m done, he has loosened up. “I want you tighter.” I grab the egg-headed dildo. I rest it on him so he can see it. I pour lube on it and cover the silicone toy. I slap it against his t-cock. It inches down his body until it is pushing into his front hole. He gasps at the size of the head, but then the more slender shaft is easy to take. I saw it in and out for a moment. Then I leave it sticking obscenely out of his hole. My cock is rock hard. I slip it into his ass. It feels so good. I can feel the toy pushing against the thin membrane that separates the two holes. He is back to being incredibly tight. It feels a lot like two dicks in the same hole. “Cut. I want that from below.” I had almost forgotten he was there. I pull out and we film my entry into his ass again, this time with the camera underneath. He holds a small light in his other hand which puts out incredible amounts of heat. I fuck him a lot in the ass. I can’t get over the feeling of fucking the hole with toy there, but not right in the same hole with me. “Give him your fist.” The director sets back up topside, off to the left. We take a quick break. When we are re-set, I grease my hands and go for his ass. I work slowly—one, two three fingers. Four and rotate. But I can never quite get the bridge of the hand into him. “Give it to me in my front hole.” I re-lube. I do the same progression, but my hand is easily taken to the wrist. I move ever so slightly. He reacts. I touch his t-cock, with my other hand, keeping the one hand buried deep. I keep it up until he gets off. “We need your cum shot. All over the front hole and stick it in after.” I nod, checking with Michael. He nods in full agreement. I bend and lick the hole where my hand was—savoring the taste and the feel on my tongue. I rear up and shoot. It’s a good sized load. It coats the entire area. I use my dick head to pull some down so I can sink it into the front hole. The sensation of going in after I’ve shot is almost more than I can take. I am on sensory overload, but I manage to pull out and scoop some more in with my cock. “Cut.” And another video shoot is done… We clean up. I get my check. It’s the same bigger figure as last time, but he’s added travel money. I could get used to this… This shoot is still waiting to be edited, but there are several stills on the website. More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Near Home—July, 2013 With the playroom down and my spare time at a premium, the bookstore became the easiest place to find relief during my busy summer months. I walk into the gay theatre. At first, I think no one is in the room. It’s dark. The scene in the film is dark and trying for romance, so it makes the room even darker. I open the door a little more. There is a lone man sitting in the corner. I feel my way along the far wall. I find a chair with my shin. I sit. I’m on the opposite side of the room from the other occupant. He is hard to see across the gloom. His eyes seem to be only on the screen, his hands in his lap. Not stroking. I watch the movie. Oh, please let them fuck and stop making them say lines of dialogue. Eventually the scene on screen builds to an amazing ass being eaten by the hung top. It’s good enough to get me hard. I unbutton and stroke. I shoot a look over to the other man. He’s not stroking, but he seems to be kneading his bulge. I can see him a little better, now that my eyes have adjusted to the dim room. He’s younger than I, maybe late 30’s. He’s thin, wearing a t-shirt with a logo on it that I can’t make out. His long legs are stretched out in front of him, with his head is resting on the back of the couch. I can’t make out the expression on his face. On screen, the cock goes into the gorgeous ass. My attention goes back to watching a few minutes of that amazing ass getting plowed. The guy to my side, and slightly behind me, stands up. I wait for that touch on my shoulder. Nope, he’s leaving the room. I sit and stroke totally alone. I wonder if anyone new has gone in on the straight side. About the time I think I’ll put away my cock and check, our door swings open. I glance behind me. It’s the same guy. He’s back. I can actually hear the toilet refilling down the hall. He shuts the door firmly. He sprawls back on the leatherette couch. Are his legs spread wider than they were before? He undoes his belt and unzips. He is holding his hand so I can’t see his cock, but I know it’s out of his pants. We stroke. And stroke. Finally, I walk over, standing between his spread legs. He looks up into my face. He’s cute in a slightly off beat way. He says nothing; he just takes his hand away from his ample cock. I kneel and take him to the root. It has a slight curve to the side that makes it harder to suck. I manage a few times and then switch to his balls. They are hairy and full. They roll around in their sack. He strokes as I nuzzle into that sweaty, crinkled skin. His hand goes from his cock to the top on my head, stopping me. He’s close. I stand up. He shucks off his jeans. He pulls me down onto the couch. He bends over and sucks me. It’s a bad angle and he knows it. He stops. He swings a leg over me and is straddling me. He just wanted to get my cock wet. His ass is sinking down on my raw cock before I can say anything. He rides me, his cock flopping across my A-shirt. Then he holds still and I fuck up into him. He feels wonderful. He’s tight. And he knows how to work his butt. When we both need to slow down, he slides up and off me. He brings his cock to my mouth. I hungrily take it in. Then I feel it. His ass is dripping onto my A-shirt. He looks down. “Oh, my God…” We become flustered. He gets off me quickly, but not easily. I reach for the paper towels in my pants pocket, but the pants are now down around my boots. He grabs a proffered towel and kicks into his jeans. He keeps apologizing. I say no problem…but I’m not sure I believe it. He’s out the door and into the bathroom before I can mop at my shirt. I sigh. I eventually get into the bathroom. I am done for the night. Blueballed . This is why, I remind myself as I reach for my car keys, I don’t usually fuck at bookstores. More...