FelchingPisser

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...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Near Home—July, 20113 12:45am This posts picks up immediately after the last two. “I run a porn site about transmen. I’ll pay you.” I just look at him. “Really?” "Yeah. Wanna make some porn?” I don’t even think twice. Why not? We head out, leaving the theatre together. The bookstore clerk smirks at me, thinking he knows just what we are off to do. I follow them in my own car. It feels like it takes forever to get to his house, but in reality, it’s not that far. It’s just getting late. We go in to his large, but typical house in a newer subdivision. We stand around the kitchen as the producer, the large man who I once thought was the boyfriend, fills out the various forms. I prove I’m over 18 (really?). I sign model agreements and papers about profit sharing. I give him my porn name—Charles Wolfe. Jaman and I take our HIV tests and have our pictures taken with the results. He goes off to shower and clean up for the shoot. The producer and I talk a little about my blog. I ask how many shoots he’s done; he’s has three waiting to be edited. The producer’s impressed I’ve actually done porn. The college guys he got before were pretty hit or miss. He tells me Daddies are big in transmale porn. I drop the fact that my sling is in the trunk of my car. He loves this idea as it will give him better camera angles. I go out to the car and get it. We haul it up the stairs to the big bedroom. I set it up and then go shower myself. When I step out of the steamy bathroom, the lights trees are up and pointing at the bed. “I thought we’d start on the bed. After fucking there for a bit, you’ll invite him to get in the sling.” I agree. We sit for a moment waiting for Jaman to appear. I look around the plain beige room now transformed into his set. The equipment is good. Someone has invested some real money in this site. Jaman comes in from the big bathroom. “Let’s get started.” He explains to Jaman what he just told me. We make our selves comfortable, propped up on pillows against the wall. We are already naked so we pretty much just start. He’s a good kisser. I get him down on my cock. He sucks noisily. I pull him up to kiss him again. “Ride him,” prompts the producer. Jaman climbs aboard my cock, facing me. I look even bigger than usual as this fairly small person lowers himself onto me. I let him do the work for awhile, then grab him around the waist and fuck up into him. I am ready to move around to a traditional missionary position as the producer stops us and switches us so Jaman is riding me, facing the camera. He gets a close up of my cock splitting him open. He brings a light in with the camera. The heat is intense on my balls and thighs. We fuck missionary. We sixty-nine a little. “Ok. Do the invite.” “I really want him to sit on my face first.” “Great. But get your head down here.” He thumps the foot of the bed. I sprawl in that direction and Jaman settles onto my face with a moan. I work my tongue back and forth between his holes, my fingers on his t-cock. I am pretty sure I get him off. I roll out from under. “I’d really like to get you in my sling. Do you want to?” Jaman nods. “Cut!” Lights are shifted from the bed to the sling. We never really stop playing. I idly fuck him until we are ready to go. Once he is positioned in the sling, I concentrate on anal sex. I eat his ass. I spit into opened hole. I fuck it hard. Then I do it all again in close up. I spend more time licking his T-cock. He squirms with the intense stimulation. I rise and slap my cock onto the wet mound. “You want this big cock back in your pussy?” “Cut!” We stop. “Don’t call it that, go back and say ‘front hole.’” I nod, lesson learned. “You want this big cock back in your front hole?” “Please.” I slide in. And I fuck with some nice chain rattling. Then we film it from below, the light intense on our bare skin. We break. I lean in to kiss Jaman. He asks for me go back and forth from ass to front hole. Repeatedly. Can I do that? I grin. And he gives me that grin that made me so hot for him in the first place. “Ok. Battery is changed. Are you ready to cum?” “Close,” I tell him. “You know the kind of thing. Cum on his front hole then push it inside.” “Got it.” I insert in his ass. I do a couple of strokes, then pull out and move right up to the other. I fuck a few strokes there, then go back to the ass. Jaman is loving this. So is the producer, actually. I keep it up. Then announce my cum shot. After all the hours of play, I have built up a big load. I shoot it over his front hole. It drips down onto his ass as well. I push in, truly breeding him. I pull out and push even more of my spunk into him. “Cut. Damn.” The producer puts the camera down and comes around between Jaman’s legs. He looks enquiringly at Jaman, who nods at him. He shoots a load onto him as well. *** I’m packing up. “I want to use you again,” the producer tells me. “You are a natural.” I thank him. He hands me my check. It’s for more than we’d agreed. I thank him again. I kiss Jaman goodbye and head out into the early morning hours of the new day. For those who want the link for Trans Male Erotica: http://www.transmaleerotica.com/main.html More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Near Home—June, 2013 11:30pm This post picks up immediately after the last one. “Do you want to get fucked?” The older man whispers it in the cute young man’s ear, but loud enough for me to hear it too. The young man nods. I lube my cock a little, as he stands up and drops his pants. He sits right back down and his hand finds his boyfriend’s. I want to eat this guy out. I kneel in the darkened room, the boyfriend reaches across and holds the young man’s legs high in the air. I find his ass with my tongue. He gasps as I go deep into him. I love the taste of his young hole. He is pushing himself onto my face. I rear up and slap my cock on his hole. I’m confused for a moment. The boy has only the tiniest cock. Wait he has…my brain makes an adjustment. There is a rather full labia around another hole right above the ass I was eating. I push my cock into the transman’s ass… “Fuck him with that big dick.” It’s the boyfriend. “He loves it up the ass. I sink into him with my entire length. He grins up at me. I am close enough to his face to watch his eyes roll up into his head as I repeatedly pound into him. I think I could cum—from the unexpected factor—and all the fucking before they came into the room. I slow down to make it last. “Do you want to try a double?” The boyfriend seems to be ready to fuck now. I pull out. The bearded young man gets up. I hug him. He hefts my cock and mouths the word “Wow.” The boyfriend lies down on the faux leather couch. The young man moves around and straddles his cock with his front hole. He leans forward waiting for me to enter him. I move around. They are so far into the middle of the couch, I can’t get up and over to slip in. I tell them to move towards the end of the couch. They do. The mound of the young ass is now in front of me. I kneel for a second to watch the BF fuck. I stand and slip in the other hole. We are doing DP for a moment. Then the BF flops out. I continue fucking until the door buzzes. I am right in the entrance path. I pull out and let the new man into the room. He stops dead as he sees the slim ass in the air. His hand immediately starts to knead the front of his Bermuda shorts. He’s built big, the powerful kind of big. A former foot baller is my guess. His wide handsome face twists into lust. “Is that ass up for grabs?” he asks. I look to the cutie still straddling the older man beneath him. The young one nods. The top who shared the Mexican guy comes over to stroke and watch. The new guy has his dick out. I nod to him to go ahead. The foot baller spits on his dick. “Has anyone been up this ass tonight?” “I have.” “You cum in there?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He is in the ass. “Fuck, yeah. You are a hot boy.” I smile as I stroke. He has no idea… “You go back up him.” The footballer pulls out. “Fuck him good,” he says to the room. Then he whispers in my ear, “You should cum up there. I want to eat your load off your cock after you pull out.” I fuck hard. The footballer keeps telling me to cum. But suddenly he is the one shooting. He covers the floor with a huge load, I could only wish he’d shot up the boy. I slow down, and have to disengage to let him get out the door. The top I had played with first goes along after him. We take a break, now alone in the theatre. I am sitting back in my original place. After all the fucking we introduce ourselves. The BF turns out to be only a friend named Harry. The transman, Jayman, tells me he’s here from the west coast. I tell him I’m glad he wondered into the theatre. Jayman grins. “I want you in my front hole.” I nod. I slide down to the floor. His legs are wide. I push his legs up and my tongue goes back to his ass for a moment. I take a moment, telling myself to get to it. I move to the mound of T-cock (though I didn’t know enough to call it that at the time.) It fits entirely in my mouth. My tongue is obviously doing something right. I stay plastered to the miniature cock (the testosterone shots make it grow.) Jayman shivers and grinds into my face. My tongue inches down. I lick his front hole, deep and long. “Fuck him.” It’s Harry. “Put that big cock in there.” I stand up and bend forward. I am in. I look huge entering this thin young man. I fuck. But I’m slipping backward on the slick, cummy floor. I finally have to stop or I’ll topple onto him. I sit down. Jayman takes my cock in his mouth. Before I even know it, he straddles me and starts to ride my cock. It feels great. “You may make me cum,” I pant. “Wait a minute.” It’s Harry. I slow down. “We have been trying to shoot some video today. Do you want to come back the house?” “For the two of you?” I ask. “Well, no. I run a porn site about transmen. I’ll pay you.” I just look at him. “Really?” “Yeah. Wanna make some porn?” To be continued… More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Near Home—June, 2013 at 9:00pm This is the first part of a three part entry. The second will be my 300th post for this blog. I can’t quite believe that. I didn’t plan it that way; it is just how it fell out as I recorded my play dates this summer. The play room had been packed away since the first of the month. The sling was stored in the trunk of my car so it could go with me, if I found time for a quick hookup. The rest was stored in my cramped bedroom or in various suitcases in the attic. On the last Friday of the month, I had a surprise evening off. As usual, when I had time, I could find no one online who could host or had the time. I didn’t spend all night fruitlessly searching. I got in the car and headed to the closest bookstore. I bought the combo pass for both the straight and the gay theatres. As it turned out, I never left the straight theatre for the next three hours. The porn is good. I always love to watch a couple of guys on one woman. The crowd is restless. Not a huge crowd, but there are always two or three in the place with me. They just aren’t playful this early in the evening. They are a good mixture of guys I recognize from this place and guys I’ve never seen. The seven new armchairs line the side walls, pressed against the black cinderblock. The three person couch sits low to the ground for me, but it’s the only padded seat in the house. It’s also the easiest way for a guy to sit next to me and lean over to sample the cock I’m stroking. My pants are open and I’m rampant. I haven’t shot a load in seven days. I stroke. There are two other guys in the room. The older man has his dick out. He flogs it continually, but it never seems to stand up for him. He shoves it into his pants and leaves. The younger man looks at me. I look at him, then at my cock, then back to him. He starts to unzip himself. The door buzzes and three guys stream in. The young man zips up and exits the room for good. I stroke. I get some head from a balding older gentleman. He’s good. He deep throats me once too often and shoots his load between my combat boots. I stroke. Alone again in the theatre. The door buzzes. It’s a young Mexican guy I recognize as a regular. He is always asking for a fucking, but the one time we had played, he hadn’t prepped himself for my big cock. I have been skittish about fucking him again for the last three months. He sits in the chair nearest me. He opens his tan cargo pants and pulls out his rather average cock. He pulls up the bottom of his A-shirt and hooks it behind his head. We stroke in silence. Eyes locked on each other. “Fuck me.” I consider. I am so in need of ass… The door buzzes. In comes a man I don’t know. He’s my age with dark gray hair. He is over dressed for the theatre—he seems to have stopped in after going something where he needed a shirt and tie. The bottom looks at the new arrival. They smile at each other. He knows the guy. He gets up, pants around his ankles. He walks to him and bends over, holding onto the side wall. His round, cinnamon colored ass is towards the both of us. “Fuck me.” The top is already undoing his pants. He takes off his slip on dress shoes and takes the pants all the way off and folds them, putting them on one of the unused chairs. He’s commando under those dress slacks. A nice big cock pokes out from his shirt tails. He looks at me. “You going to fuck him, too?” I don’t say anything. I’m going to wait and see. There’s no foreplay. The top spits on his hand and rubs it over the expanse of his cock. The bottom adds some spit to his hole with his left hand. The top pushes right in. “Damn, you’re tight.” I stroke, still seated. Then I’m on my feet. I play with the top’s nipples through his shirt. I slap the full left cheek of the bottom. The top moves the boy around, never disconnecting, pulling the boy’s hips so he swings him away from the wall. He lines him up so he can suck my cock. The boy hungrily takes it down his throat. We fuck his holes in rhythm. “You need to try this ass.” He pulls out and I move next to him. I reach down and feel his slick cock. It’s spotless. I slide right into the boy. He feels incredible. He is squeezing my cock hard on every other stroke or so. And he’s a pig. He takes the other top into his mouth straight from his ass. The top leans across the back of the boy and hungrily kisses me. His wedding ringed hand reaches up and clutches the back of my head. We kiss deeply, ignoring the man below us who is servicing us. We fall into the same fuck rhythm again. I pull out. “Get up on the chair.” I pull one way from the wall into the center of the room. I can’t believe we have had the place to ourselves. The Mexican kicks off his pants and kneels on the seat. We reverse. The other top glides into his ass, commenting on how hot I’ve made it. I push back into his mouth. After he cleans my cock, I pull out and sit on the floor. I watch the big dick slice into him. “How’s it look down there?” “Great.” “Let me see.” We change places. I slide back up the boy’s ass. The top has been leaking juice like crazy. The hole is really slick now. “That is so hot. Fuck him with that big dick.” I do. We trade off one more time. I am in his mouth when the door buzzer goes off. The bottom springs off the chair as if it were on fire, grabs his pants and retreats into the darkest corner up by the screen. I sit on the couch, fully exposed. The top sits in the chair and covers himself with his dress slacks. An older man comes in leading what I assume is his college age boyfriend. They are holding hands. He seats the young man on the couch, then sits on his right so the boy is between us. The older man instantly slides a hand into the waist band of the young guy’s jeans. He turns to me and smiles. The boy turns to me and smiles more broadly. He is sort of scruffy—but in a good way. He’s bearded, with a slim, lithe body—you can tell, even though he still has his clothes on. I love his smile. You can’t help but return it. “You want to play with him?” asks the new daddy. I nod and smile. The boy bends, and takes my cock into his mouth. It’s a bad angle so I get up so I can get better head. The Mexican takes off, now fully clothed. The previous top watches the action and strokes. The boy takes off his shirt. He has a good chest, though even in the half-light I can see a scar across it. There is a tattoo on his arm. He undoes the top button of his jeans, as there is still his boyfriend’s hand thrust down them. Now the blow job proceeds in earnest. He’s good, too. And hungry. I fuck his face. “Do you want to get fucked?” The older man whispers it in his ear, but loud enough for me to hear it too. The young man nods. I lube my cock a little, as he stands up and drops his pants. He sits right back down and his hand finds his boyfriend’s. I want to eat this guy out. I kneel in the darkened room, the boyfriend reaches across and holds the young man’s legs high in the air. I find his ass with my tongue. He gasps as I go deep into him. I love the taste of his young hole. He is pushing himself onto my face. I rear up and slap my cock on his hole. I’m confused for a moment. The boy has only the tiniest cock. Wait he has… My brain makes an adjustment. There is a rather full labia around another hole right above the ass I was eating. I hesitate. Then push my cock into the transman’s ass… To be continued… More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Fort Wayne, IN—June, 2013 One of the few times I was able to play in the month of June fortunately coincided with an afternoon motel party posted on BBRT. I didn’t recognize the host. I asked if he’d like me to bring the sling (which is always a good way to get an invite.) He agreed and told me to get there about noon. He told me he was expecting about 15 guys. I guessed maybe half that many on his guest list would show up, but decided that could still be a great way to fuck away an afternoon. I find the motel easily. I lug the sling bag up one flight and knock. A man I know opens the door. I wonder where the host is, but I don’t say anything. Eventually it becomes clear—he is the host, using a new profile with a picture I could never have identified as him. And here’s a surprise, his old profile is one of the guests coming to the party. (It’s not a bad thing—I like the guy enough…it’s just an odd thing…) I set up. We wait. And wait. In about 15 minutes, which seem at least twice that, the first tentative knock comes at the door. He comes in, and decides to take a walk until others arrive. He reminds me a professor I had in college, the one who you just knew was gay— that perpetual Peter Pan look of trying to never age, careful to not raise his voice for it might be considered too fey, and who has the softest hands of any man who’s ever touched me. We wait. A friend of the host arrives. He’s tall and lanky and seemingly there to talk to the host and not to have sex. His arrival does bring Peter Pan back in. I coax him out of his clothes. He nicely enough built and hung bigger than many. He can’t take his eyes off my cock. He sucks me for a bit and lets me sample his dick. “Fuck me.” I get him kneeling on the edge of the bed and dive into his ass. It’s the first ass I’ve had in over a week. He tastes great and I love the way he’s responding to my rimming. I lube up. I don’t ask about condoms, fuck it, this party was posted on BBRT. “Oh, yeah, fuck me raw.” Ok, then. I sink in. He takes me easier than I expect. I hold for a second to help him get used to my girth, then begin fucking in earnest. He is all but crawling away from me. His mouth is saying how hot it is, but he is moving away from my cock. I don’t let him go. I just follow him right into the middle of the bed, now kneeling and fucking his upturned ass “Oh. My. God!” He grabs a pillow and buries his face into it to keep the noise down. The two conversationalists have stopped talking and are watching us, fully dressed but with flies open, and dicks jutting out. I fuck, showing off for the on lookers. I pull out and slap my cock on his ass. Oh, no. He can’t have done any kind of preparation at all. I’m caked. I bite back what I’d like to say and simply whisper in his ear to go clean. He’s in the bathroom; I’m at the sink in the room. I soap repeatedly. There are knocks on the door. Three guys come in. I rummage in my bag for a squeeze bulb, and hand it through the bathroom door. But he never uses it. He just finds another top from the new arrivals who fucks him fast in the bathroom, and who shoots just as fast. They both take off. The party goes all oral for the next hour. We are a mass of sucking flesh on the bed. As each guy shoots he dresses and leaves. Soon it’s just the host, the talker and me. A knock. An older man with an extravagant beard and mustache comes in. I have played with him once before in this city. Today his mustache is actually twirled and waxed into points. I feel like Salvador Dali is going down on me. We play a long time for nothing else is happening. He offers his ass and I try, but he’s just too tight. Neither of us is getting any pleasure out of it. I am on the point of packing up the unused sling and leaving. A young Black guy, tall and thin, and bulging in his low slung jeans comes in. He’s followed by another nice looking middle-aged white guy. It’s like middle aged wolves on some young fawn. The host, the talker, Dali and the new guy are ripping the young man’s clothes off. I go over and work his nipples as the four men fight to suck the monster no longer in the Black guy’s pants. But I get the last laugh. “Who wants to fuck me?” the young man asks. I see to be the only top. “With a condom, though,” he adds. I get him in the sling. I eat his hole. Up above me someone is leaning over and sucking his dick--or trying to, it's so damn big. Another mouth is on his nipple. One guy is trying to feed the young man his cock though he’s not quite tall enough to get it up to sling height. Dali is working the young man’s feet by suckling his toes. I roll on the Magnum, lube it and stand up. We make eye contact. I insert slowly. He knows how to work his ass. It is feeling good, even wrapped. I work up to full speed. And he shoots. And he leaves. He’s been here maybe 15 minutes. I pack and take the sling to the car. I come back in for my small bag of lube and stuff. I say my good byes, and there is a knock on the door. I really have to leave now or I will be late for my meeting over dinnertime. The door opens and there is a hot bottom I fucked at the same motel party as where I first met Dali. The bottom is handsome in that old Hollywood way and in his mid 30’s. With him is a top I’ve seen online and never met. He’s ex-Military, with a brush cut and arms that bulge from the sleeves of his tight white t-shirt. I know what I should do. I start for my car, but I’m back in a flash. The new comers have just undressed. The top is laying on the bed, hard and impressive, his legs splayed. The bottom is kneeling on the floor, between those hairy columns. The other guys are contributing where they can or just watching. I just open my jeans—a true zippered fuck. I pull the bottom up so he is straddling the top. I enter him roughly. I pump. I shoot. I pull out. “There’s something for you to fuck in.” They all look pleased. And I go home quite happy. *** The next day I got a message from the hot bottom. "Tony loved your load in me. He fucked in it and fed some of it to me. Yum!" More...

Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Northwest Ohio—June, 2013 Once a week or so I get a message from the bottom I wrote about in “The White Master and the BlackBottom.” He always wants to do it all again. I wrote the Master—he agreed we should meet up again. With my crazy summer starting the next week, I agreed to play with them on my last free weekend. The set up would be the same: we’d meet at a cheap motel, he would invite other tops, and we should degrade the bottom as we fucked him. I knock on the motel room. It’s the same motel, almost the same room—one of those rooms where you don’t really want to walk barefoot on the spotted carpet and you don’t sit naked on the bedspread. The bear of the white Master opens the door. He grins when he recognizes me. Before he can step aside to let me in, I hear, “Make me hard, faggot!” coming from behind him. I step in. A young Black man is slapping his flaccid cock across the Black bottom’s face. He’s tall and well built. The bottom is on all fours on one of the two beds in the room. He takes the young man’s cock into his mouth. He sucks him while I get undressed. The Master lies down on the other bed and watches, stroking his own under inflated dick. I get back into my boots and watch the young man pull out of the bottom’s mouth and take his semi-erect cock around to the boy’s full, round ass. He works and works at getting it in, but it’s not happening. “Fuck him hard,” contributes the Master from the other bed. The young man finally gives up. “I can’t. It’s not so easy now I got a girlfriend.” “She take care of you like this boy used to?” asks the Master. “Yeah, she got it all this morning.” He gets dressed and goes, promising to return in a couple of hours. He never shows. I stick my dick in the bottom’s mouth. The Master, interested now, gets up and watches us. He is stroking his cock, making an occasional comment—but it all seems detached. I get hard but it takes concentration. The lack of sexual energy in the room is noticeable absent. I move around to fuck. I insert. The bottom huffs Maximum impact and goes from grasping my cock with his ass muscles to relaxing and becoming a wide open hole. I fuck him—slapping his ass, hoping I can make him contract his ass muscles that way. What had been a hot fuck a few months ago is now average at best. I watch as the Master takes a turn up the boy. He’s good for a few strokes but goes soft. It’s up to me, it seems. I fuck him again. He does the mix of poppers and MI. The moment he huffs the aerosol, he goes limp and uninvolved. I pull out and wait for him to come back to reality. I take the can away from him and toss it on the other bed. “You are going to take my cock without it.” He looks stricken, but agrees to try. I pull him around to the edge of the bed, so I can stand up to fuck. I enter his ass, hard. I’m not happy with the way this scene is going. He yelps and grabs the poppers. After three thrusts, he is begging me to stop. After two more he falls forward, disengaging us. “I need to take a break.” The Bottom curls into a ball and seems to fall asleep. I look to the Master, he shrugs. The sexual energy meter dips to below zero. A home improvement show is on the television, seemingly on to cover any noise for the room next door. It is showing off the latest basement makeover by some designer I don’t know, but who I’d like to bend over. The Master’s attention seems to be there and not on his boy at all. I flop down next to him. We talk of this and that. The homeowners on the television agonize over carpeting or laminate. The boy is indeed asleep, muffled snores are coming from the other bed. I am hoping the Master might eat my ass as he did on our first meeting. I lead the conversation back to sex. Then out of nowhere comes the question. “Why don’t you fuck me?” he asks. I agree. He pulls himself down to the edge of the bed. He lies on his back, crooking his arms under his thighs. I get down on the floor and tongue his hole. I work around the forest of hair in his crack. He groans, loud enough that I think he might wake the boy up. But no, he’s dead to the world. I finally zero in on his pucker. “That’s it. Eat me out. Nice and wet.” I spit and work it into his hole. “Slide it in me.” I ignore him and eat a little longer. When I’m ready, I scramble up and insert. He’s tight. I get the head in, but that’s it. I hold. He hits the poppers and I am all the way in—I just glide home. I hold for a moment. Then my balls begin slapping on his ass. He knows how to work a cock. His hole clutches at my invading inches and holds tight on the withdrawal. He so much more involved that the boy tonight. I fuck him until he asks me to stop. “I’m not used to that much cock.” The boy wakes, but he wants to sleep not fuck. I stay for a moment of two, but there is no suggestion I should fuck the Master again. I pack and head home. Not very happy. It's my last night of freedom. And I'm blueballed . More...