FelchingPisser Posted January 20, 2014 Report Posted January 20, 2014 Click here to see Felching Pisser's original blog post... Near Home—December, 2013 I don’t know if I’ve written about the Marathoner before. I have seen him since the blog began, but there have been long stretches when I don’t hear from him at all. He needs me for just one thing—my tongue in his ass. I don’t call him The Marathoner for the length of our sex sessions, but because he is a runner. A committed one. He has an incredibly hard, hairy body, with not an ounce of fat. He’s tall, lean and in his middle 40’s. He goes through long bouts of serial monogamy when I won’t hear from him for months at a time. Then a text will come. After the ‘how are yous?’ he’ll get down to it. “I need you to lick my ass. When are you available?” I got one of those messages in early December. We don’t live close to each other, so we decided to split the difference and meet at the bookstore. He likes to show off occasionally, and you know that I do…. I’m there first. We’ve agreed to meet in the straight theatre. The place is deserted. The movie is especially loud with no bodies to help absorb the sound. I feel my hardening mound through my 501s. I watch very young, petite women on screen trying to wrap their mouths around black cocks that would make even men like the Cum Hound choke. Then the door buzzes. In he comes. It’s the Marathoner. He is looking as fit as ever, though I didn’t remember that slight greying at his temples. He sits on the couch beside me. We make small talk for a moment. He tells me the current boyfriend is overseas. “Not that he eats my ass. No one eats it like you do.” The Marathoner takes off his shoes and tucks them under the couch. He stands and drops his pants. He folds them and places them on top of his shoes. “I want your tongue in me so badly.” (I should perhaps say that The Marathoner is a top. He has never bottomed. Ever. Not with rubbers and certainly not bare. But this he will allow himself to do.) His cock is hardening as he makes that statement. It is big. Very big. I always forget how big he is. I think of him as the same size as me, but he’s not. He has another half inch in length. And likely another half an inch or more in girth. I get the head in my mouth but that’s about it. And it’s not what he wants anyway. He wants my tongue in his ass. To fuck him with my tongue as if it were a cock… I spend just long enough on his dick head to get a dollop of precum. I then turn him around so he can kneel on the couch. I’m on the cold floor—my face inches from his furry ass. I don’t lick around the hole, getting him ready. I harden my tongue and drive it deep the first thing. I tell him he has his own precum up his hole. He moans loudly. Now I get down to eating hole. Swabbing it. Spitting on it. Swallowing. Teasing it. Drilling it with my tongue. “Lie down.” He’s in charge tonight. He stands up and has me lay down on the naugahyde couch. My head is right at the end. He stands, his back to me and the couch, and lowers himself on to my face. I can go deeper this way. And I show him just how deep my tongue can go. He is panting now, like he’s run a mile. And sweating. Even with the chilly room. I eat him out until my jaw is sore. Tongue. Lick. Slurp. And swallow. The Marathoner never touches me, except once as I stand up, to heft my cock and mentally compare it to his own. He drags a chair over. Its seat is higher than the couch; I won’t be bent over so to get behind him. His rather bony knees are spread on the seat as wide as they can go. I stand behind him. I mess with his head for just a moment by slapping my wet cock on his right ass cheek. I sink down and dive in. The Marathoner stops jerking and reaches back, spreading his cheeks apart. I slip in. Is it really deeper than on the couch? At this moment it feels it, to both of us. It makes my cock drool and The Marathoner grunt. He’s talking dirty now. I am sure he’s close. The door buzzes. With all the speed of a sprinter, he is sitting sedately on the couch with his shirt tail covering his crotch as the man walks in. I sit down, too. The new comer sits against the wall. He’s also mid 40’s and looks like he’s been out on a construction site. He wastes no time pulling his cock out. We expose ours. He is average, but with the two of us, he looks far smaller. The Marathoner nudges me to get back on the floor. He won’t let me suck him, but wants his balls licked. I get between his bare legs and do what he wants. The Marathoner pats the seat next to him. The construction type moves over—watching me work on The Marathoner’s balls. The Marathoner tentatively reaches over and feels the guy’s cock up. The next thing I know, my head is pushed onto the new guy’s cock. Really? This is new. In no time at all the guy unloads in my mouth—all the attention being too much for him. I swallow the cum, thinking we are done. There is no way The Marathoner will let me tongue his hole after a mouthful of jizz. The construction type mops up fast and leaves. In seconds after the door closes, The Marathoner is kneeling back on the chair. “Eat me out, man!” I get back on my knees and dive in. The Marathoner is extra noisy now. He’s close and doesn’t care who knows it. “Fuck me with your tongue. Just like it was your dick.” His ass is slamming into my face. I actually worry about getting a bloody lip. His hole quivers. He pulls away from me and shoots all over the floor. Massive puddles. He can’t have shot for days and days. He’s all business afterward. “Take care. See you soon,” he tells me as he wraps his cock in a napkin and tucks it into his underwear. He’s dressed and gone. I wait to see who else will show up. I have had one taste of jizz—I want more. I watch the movie. I am so hard I’m hurting. My eyes keep sifting from the movie to the glistening pools on the floor. I jerk. No-one. I look again. In the shifting light from the video, the puddle of cum looks even bigger. I wait. I bend over and run my index finger through the biggest blob of his cum. I hesitate. I lick my finger clean... More...
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