[Breeder] Pig Party

[TheBreeder]

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When I blogged about the Silver Fox the other day, I off-handedly mentioned a fist-and-fuck party at which we’d teamed up, a few months ago. The host was a guy named Hardy, a very pleasant, educated fellow with a handsome face and an intense pair of dark eyes who’d ridden my dick and hand several times before. I respect Hardy a lot for being a pig when the clothes come off and a decent, humorous guy all the time, but I think I really did tick him off a little bit at that gathering, last fall.

He’d gone to a lot of trouble to assemble a group of about ten guys that he’d personally met and thought would hit it off well. It wasn’t until about three-thirty in the morning, that night, that everyone was finally drained and relaxing and he said, “Yeah, I thought this would be a good group. I’d gone to a lot of trouble to invite an equal number of total tops and total bottoms and no versatiles. But I guess there was only one total top.” Then he’d glared at me.

At least the four other tops I’d bent over and fucked had the decency to look abashed.

I thought that perhaps I’d be banned from Hardy’s parties for life, but scarcely had I posted the Silver Fox entry the other day than he sent me an email inviting me to a party on Saturday night. The Fox also sent me a message, telling me he’d be there and that he wanted me to come. So of course I said yes.

The group was smaller, this time—just five of us. The Fox was there, looking handsome and sexy in a pair of leather pants and a trim leather vest that showed off his biceps. Another guy I’d met and really liked from the first party, Chaz, arrived at the same time as I. The three of us were the so-called tops (though I’d fucked both Chaz and the Fox several times at the last get-together). Hardy and an out-of-town friend, Mike, were the two dedicated bottoms, in Hardy’s scheme.

So naturally, the first thing I did when the clothes came off was to tag the two tops. No, I’m not kidding. But it wasn’t intentional, honest.

Hardy has one of the most elaborate fuck dungeons I’ve ever seen. It’s a closed-off, finished room in his basement that contains its own heater. Carpeting covers the floor, keeping it warm and soft for any guys topping at the three slings. Yes, three slings. One’s a traditional leather hammock, another’s a padded flat bench with a pillow, suspended by chains. There’s also a leather harness hanging at the dungeon’s other end. Hardy’s additionally installed a padded fisting bench, and set a futon and a comfortable sofa in corners for those who like somewhere more traditional to fuck.

No less than five mirrors hang suspended from chains around the room’s edge; they can be angled with hooks to reflect anything. There are mirrors over each of the three slings. Outside the room’s entrance are two tall metal shelving units that accommodate a hospital’s worth of white towels and washcloths, jars of every lube imaginable, and tins of generic vegetable shortening. Inside the room are another couple of shelving units that contain plastic bins of dildos, butt plugs, and vibrators. It’s quite an elaborate set-up. Hardy doesn’t cut corners when it comes to his anal pleasures.

Which is why I guess I’m surprised he buys the generic vegetable shortening, I idly mused Saturday night once everyone was in the dungeon and naked. I sat on the corner of the futon watching Hardy bring in towels and tubs of faux-Crisco, when Chaz stood in front of me, wearing nothing but a pair of gray socks. I and opened my mouth while I gazed meaningfully up at him. He immediately slid his dick between my lips. Chaz and I are built similarly, with narrow shoulders and trim hips and big dicks and beards, though his is more auburn while mine’s a perpetual dirty blond. I submitted to his meat as he slid it in and out, managing not to gag when he’d push it in to the base. He held onto the back of my head and ground his hips as if my mouth were an ass. I was at rock hard attention from being treated that way.

The Fox moved over and stood in front of me as well. He’d stripped down to a black T-shirt, his vest, his weighty black boots, and another of his many jock straps. While I sucked Chaz, the Fox moved the bulge of his jock lasciviously back and forth over my left cheek. Once he’d hardened, he pulled out his heavy dick and began beating my face with it. When I switched from Chaz’s dick to the Fox’s, Chaz dropped to all fours and began to suck me.

Once I’d gotten the Fox’s dick slick, he moved behind Chaz. Without much in the way of preliminaries, he started working into Chaz’s hole. The intensity made Chaz swallow my own cock to the base and leave it there, while he groaned and struggled to accommodate the Fox’s girth. Soon, though, he was moving back and forth between us, setting his own rhythm. Like we had only a few days before, the Fox and I stared in each other’s eyes and grinned, enjoying the connection we had as a single man serviced us both. There’s something about flipping a top that makes my meat more rigid and my nuts pull in tighter; it’s an expression of power and of dominance. Watching a masculine, attractive top give up both holes to me and to one of my favorite buddies . . . well, that’s priceless. My dick swelled harder than concrete as I slipped in and out of Chaz’s mouth.

Hardy split us up. That didn’t surprise me. I almost expected him to be a little jealous that his three invited tops had split off and started their own mini-orgy. What did surprise me, however, is how he lifted a dazed and blinking Chaz to his stockinged feet, guided him over to the harness sling, and pushed him back into it. Expertly he arranged the straps so that Chaz’s feet rested in them, and then slipped twin leather nooses around his wrists. “They’re deceptively simple,” he told us. Chaz tugged with his arms and found quickly that the leather slip knots around his wrist tightened immediately. When he attempted to create slack, they remained just as tight. “He won’t be getting out of that. Fuck him,” said Hardy, looking right in my eyes. That part did surprise me. “I know you want to. I like watching you fuck his ass,” he said. From one of the shelving units he grabbed a pristine bottle of lube. He broke the seal, squirted out a generous handful, and walked around to where I stood at the sling’s base. His hand wrapped around my dick, slathering it with the cold goo. “Fuck him like you did last time,” he said. “Breed his hole.”

I didn’t need any further invitation. I stepped forward and started working my dick into Chaz’s pucker. It was already wet from the Fox’s spit. The lube mixed with what was already there so that I slid right in. Just like he had been last time we met, Chaz was warm and tight inside. At my invasion he grappled helplessly with his arms, trying to struggle away or to reach out. It was impossible to tell what he was trying to do, because the straps restrained his movement to arcs in the air. I grabbed onto the chains next to his calves and stood there, letting the pendulum-like motion from the sling do the fuck-work for me.

I like to start with more of a grinding motion than outright slamming. The sling wasn’t adjusted very well for my height; I had to stand on tiptoe to stay in his hole, and I was by far the tallest man there. I was enjoying myself too much to ask Hardy to change the hooks, however, and frankly I thought that standing on the balls of my feet was a small price to pay for an ass that fine. Chaz’s eyes were mere slits, glinting from time to time in the dim dungeon light. Hardy’s fingers kept darting out to touch the root of my cock as I slipped in and out. The Fox, in the meantime, ran his hands over Chaz’s chest. Gradually my strokes became faster and longer. The sling began to bounce back and forth, its metal and leather making slight protests with every thrust. Hardy brought out a pair of wooden clothespins. One at a time he placed them over Chaz’s nipples. Chaz didn’t even notice the first one being applied; when he felt something cutting through the pleasure the second time, he opened his eyes to find not one, but both of his nipples being chewed on by the wooden pegs.

It wasn’t so much the sensations that excited him as the surprise of it. His ass clamped down immediately. The pressure made my dick explode almost unexpectedly. I’d been building up to orgasm little by little, but the extra sensation pushed me over the edge. I heard all four men grunting in appreciation as I unloaded with shudders. The Fox stood behind me and held me while the lights came back in my eyes; I felt Hardy drop to his knees and clean my dick off.

I don’t get invited to sex parties because I arrive wearing hot costumes, or because I bring snack. I don’t get invited for my good looks, which are modest. I get invited for four reasons. I show up when I say I will. I arrive on time. I have a big tool. And most importantly, I shoot multiple loads and stay hard between them. Barely had Hardy sucked the cum and lube from my cock than the Silver Fox was on his knees, grabbing the back of the sofa and putting his butt in the air. “I didn’t get any of that dick a few days ago,” he said. “But I’m gettin’ it now.”

I glanced at Hardy to see if his face was annoyed by the fact that within the space of a half hour, I would have already fucked two of his so-called tops, but he was just fascinated by the fucklust of it all. Chaz had helped out-of-town Mike onto the bench sling and was rubbing his hole with shortening, but Hardy started rubbing his hands all over the Fox’s body, spreading his cheeks and inviting me inside. I spat on my hand, rubbed it over the Fox’s hole, and slid in.

There’s not much of a challenge to get in the Fox’s ass; it’s been well-worked over the years, top or not. He bucked and groaned as I entered him inch by inch, but once he felt my nuts against his, he sunk into the sofa’s upholstery and sighed. Hardy drizzled more lube onto my dick as I pulled it out. He seemed to be enjoying watching. From angle to angle he moved while I screwed, as I put on a show for him. I’d pull my dick all the way out, pause, and then plunge it back inside, causing the Fox to groan with every sudden invasion. Hardy seemed to enjoy it in the way he’d enjoy a particularly good porn film, only in 3-D with exceptional sound and the ability to inhale the clinical lube smell. Stoking his cock, he got on his knees and from underneath watched my dick slide in and out, stroke by long stroke.

Eventually the Fox started to fuck back. He planted a leg on the ground, left one foot on the sofa, and started to meet my thrusts. My balls knocked against his like some kind of childrens’ toy; the dungeon was filled with the soft and steady sound of my hips slapping against his butt cheeks. This wasn’t gentle lovemaking by any means. This was balls-to-the-wall, ass-slappin’, man-fuckin’. The two of us sustained a most excellent rhythm. In and out I slammed, while he bucked and grunted like a bronco. It was when Hardy reached up, grabbed my balls, and started to twist them that I lunged forward, growled like an animal, and planted my second load in the Fox’s ass. He collapsed forward, hitting the wall with a thud. I was already shaky on my pins, post-orgasm. He carried me with him. For a moment we were both stunned, and then we laughed and wiped the sweat from our faces.

The Fox stood up to clean himself off in the laundry room outside, but Hardy stayed on the floor for a couple of minutes, rubbing my feet while my head cleared. We both sat there in silence and watched Chaz go at out-of-town Mike across the room. “Listen,” I said at last, once I had my breath back. “I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” Hardy wanted to know.

I gestured in Chaz’s direction and then at the closed door, beyond which the Fox was making splashing noises. “For loading up your tops, first thing.”

“You had fun, right?” I nodded. He reached out and played with my dick, which was still hard and resting on my thigh. “And I know you’re able to go again.”

“Sure.” I found myself being taken by both hands and hauled to my feet. Hardy led me across the dungeon to the traditional sling next to the bench, which was rocking back and forth with Chaz and out-of-town-Mike. He didn’t let go of my hands until he’d propped his butt against the leather and needed his own to grab hold of the chains. He hauled himself up and back so that his legs were spread and his hole was at the perfect height for fucking.

“Well then,” he said, as if he were explaining something simple to a child. “I know how you work. Get the first two out of the way, and then your third fuck lasts and lasts.” I had to crack a grin at his smug little smirk. “They might get you first, but I get you longest.”

Smart man. He was right about that.

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