[FelchingPisser] Piss Daddy's Secret Vice

[FelchingPisser]

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My Playroom—May, 2013

“Good Morning, Piss Daddy.”

The message pops up in my Adam4Adam mailbox. I type a hurried “good morning, piss boy” in return before pouring my cup of tea.

“Today is the day!”

He’s right. Bryce, one of the most accomplished (and pervy) bottoms I know, is coming to the playroom this afternoon. We both know this will be our last meet for the rest of the summer. Our work schedules, the distance between our homes and his having to meet without the knowledge of his partner, all make scheduling incredibly hard. But he is stoked for today. He has seen pictures of the new fuck bench and can’t wait to get on it. We double check the time. He asks the address—damn!—has it been that long since he’s been to my house?

“Any instructions?”

I type out what he should wear. Then he gives me choices. I can’t just say jock. Is it leather, neoprene or cloth? If cloth—red, black, white or green? Leather chaps or rubber? How about toys: dildos, butt plugs…???

You get the idea. But it heats him up—typing the words and imagining what we will do with them.

Hours later, he’s in his neoprene and strapped to the new bondage frame attached to the bench.

We start slowly. I want to document the new fuckbench in pictures for the blog. He poses willing. We start with the bondage frame; I play a little with his ass before snapping the pictures. We move on to him ass up on the bench in the sawhorse position. I insert my cock so his ass will look a little used in the photos. We flatten the bench down so it is totally flat and figure out the leg support attachments. I snap more pictures.

The camera goes down as my dick goes up. I need to fuck, but I really need to piss. Bryce is instantly on his knees in front of the sling. I stick just the head of my cock into his mouth. He is careful not to lick the dripping head. I let go. My piss stream sputters to life. He swallows greedily. He is a boy who is always thirsty. My cock adjusts to knowing I want to piss, and I start pissing a *******, straight down his throat. He gurgles and groans and concentrates. He doesn’t waste any.

My cock springs to full hardness the moment I’m done. I lean him into the sling, his belly and chest on the cool leather, and enter him roughly. I fuck him hard to get his hole ready for more.

We spend the next few hours fucking. And working toys deep into his ass. I push a couple of fingers in as well. Soon, I’m greased and my right hand disappears up his elastic hole. I love his control. How he can snap his ass shut on my wrist.

But there’s one thing he loves to do, that I rarely do with anyone else.

“It’s time,” I tell him. I get into the sling and take a massive dose of poppers. He kneels, so he’s staring at my flat, hairy butt. “Eat my hole,” I tell him. The poppers are hitting. They make me talk unfiltered. I sound like a cheap porn soundtrack. “Stick that tongue in there. Deeper, boy. Come on. You can do better.”

He loves me to tell him how to do it. Whatever gives me pleasure is now what it is all about. He eats ass with the same relish that I eat hole. He goes deeper into me than I have allowed just about any man.

“Spit on my hole.” He does. “Lick it up and work it in deep.” My hole is opening with his insistent tonguing. “Lick my cock head—yeah---get that fuck juice in your mouth. Now spit.” My hole is coated with my own precum. This makes Bryce attack me even harder.

I take another hit as he drinks some water. He swallows the first sip, then sprays my hole with the second slug—something he learned from his Master. He licks every drop which is beading up on the hair around my hole. I watch him in the mirror above me. Totally into his service.

I am now at the mercy of his tongue and the stubble on his chin. He has his chin in my ass and is licking the base of my balls. The rough hair is driving me crazy—until I can’t take it anymore. It now hurts. I push him back down so his tongue is on my hole again.

"Slow down. Easy.”

He obeys. I have to piss again. I consider a moment…but know I won’t be able to with his face in my ass.

“I need to get out.” He moves back and gets up. “Get under the rimseat.” He does, his eyes still glued on me. I reach for an empty water bottle. I don’t have a lot, but a good half bottle of piss. I bend into the sling, and pour my barely yellow piss down my ass crack.

I slam the seat of the rim seat down and set my dripping ass onto his face.

The sounds of contentment below the seat are all the thanks I need.

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