Ordering The Meal at Our Yearly Meeting

[Barratboy]

At our yearly meeting, we use the same hotel every year, and the meetings go pretty long each day. As a result, our breakfasts and lunches tend to be buffet-style, and rather bland. The head office folk seem to realize this, and every year, the three nights we’re there, the dinners are done with little cards that get left in our rooms. The cards have three choices for a starter, five choices for an entrée, with options, four or five drink options, and desserts. You circle what you’d like, and give it to the hotel staff with your table number, and at the dinner, that’s what you get.

The first day, I met my roommate for the first time in the half-hour between the end of meeting and the first dinner, and I couldn’t have been happier – he was in his mid-late forties, wide-shouldered, thick chested, with just the beginning of a gut, he had a beard of his just-starting-to-grey hair, and clear grey eyes. In short, he was a hot daddy type, and I was quite keen on getting as much of an eyeful in our all-too-short room-mate times. He seemed quite chatty, which was good, but he had a gruff voice that made my dick thicken on a regular basis. I went to the first meal feeling horny and frustrated.

Dinner was good – everything I’d circled, and I admit I rushed through it to get back to my room as soon as possible, but he hadn’t come back yet. A bit dejected, I showered (I hate trying to shower and race to the first meeting session, so I always showered the night before), and then changed into boxers and a t-shirt for lying on the bed and reading.

He showed up at about eleven that night, and it was obvious he’d gone out for a beer (or two) after the dinner. He smiled, re-introduced himself with a hand-shake (Roger), asked my name again (he’d forgotten), and was a lot more gregarious than before. He flipped on the television, stripped off his dress shirt, and I was in heaven.

The man was a hairy guy, shoulders and chest, and when he shucked his dress pants and revealed boxer-briefs, I had to try hard not to stare at the package. His legs were thick – solid, strong thighs, and I felt my dick get hard again.

The television sucked, except for a commercial, where downloadable entertainment to a cell-phone or something, was being explained as “entertainment in your lap,” or something like that, and the last image was off a hot soccer player type in the lap of a guy in an airport.

“I could handle that,” Roger muttered, grinning.

“Looks like a fun place to be,” I nodded, and he glanced at me. I gave a half-embarrassed shrug, and we hit a silence for a bit. I could barely stand it, and finally gave up and slid off my bed, sort of walked over on my knees, and planted my face down in his boxer-briefs.

He laughed, and said, “Good boy!” and I worked my way in as fast as I could, found his cock already half-hard, and slurped his fat dick right up. He let out a little moan, and his hand found the back of my neck.

He had a thick cock, a meaty shaft, and was uncut (a favourite of mine, as I love swirling my tongue around under the skin), and his balls were heavy and hairy. I rubbed and stroked his balls while I sucked him, and he pushed on the back of my neck in an authoritative way I liked. When he said “good boy,” again, I moaned around his dick, and I could almost hear Roger grinning. He knew I was a “good boy” all right.

Alas, it was all too soon that I was chugging cum, and be damned if I was going to miss a drop. I gagged a little – he was a surger, not a slow cummer, but I got it all down, and he rubbed the back of my neck for a bit.

“Thanks, boy,” he said, and I looked up and saw a great grin – almost nasty, but mostly pleased. I grinned back.

“Anytime, sir,” I said, and then rose. It was obvious we had to crash for the night for tomorrow’s meetings, which sucked, but hey. At least I’d gotten to blow him. Hopefully there was a repeat after dinner tomorrow.

If only I’d known!

The next day, during the breakfast buffet, I saw Roger briefly, and he handed me an envelope, like the ones the hotel staff left in our room to pick our dinners. Bemused, I went to open it, and he shook his head, and said, “Take a bathroom break with that, and bring a pen.” I nodded, and said, “See you later.” He winked.

I didn’t last long in the first meeting, too eager to get to the bathroom. Inside, Roger had made a mock-up of the dinner order card (which I’ll try to add as a jpeg if I can ever scan the damn thing), as follows:

Starters

Your choice of:

Dad-dick and boy-lips, mouthwatering and salty.

Dad-ass and boy-tongue, deeper the better.

Dad-hands and boy-cock, jerked to perfection.

Entrees

Your choice of:

Gentle dad-cock in boy-hole, with a crème sauce.

Rough dad-cock in boy-hole, gags as required for neighbouring rooms comfort.

Doggy-style boy-hole, with hard pounded dad-cock.

Dad-tongue and boy-hole, deep and long.

Dad-fingers or hands in boy-hole, up to elbow deep on request.

All meals come raw, with saliva sauce, but upon request, rubbers and/or lube can be added to your entrée.

Drinks

Your choice of:

Cum

Freshly squeezed pit sweat

Piss juice up boy-hole (available in shower stall)

Boy-spit, fresh from dad’s nipple

Desserts

Your choice of:

Dad-fingers dipped in cummy boy-hole, finger-licking good

Dad-tongue in boy-hole sauce, mouth-watering

Red boy-ass, freshly dad-spanked.

I nearly shot a load right there in the stall, I got so hard. I scribbled on Roger’s mock order sheet (especially taking care to circle, many times, the “raw with saliva sauce”) my selections and then couldn’t resist adding at the bottom:

“Please note I have a specialized diet, and require multiple servings to maintain a healthy lifestyle. I have marked these with stars.”

I managed to stuff the note back into the envelope, and I felt it in my shirt pocket all through the morning meetings (Roger was in another group). When I saw him at lunch, I handed it over wordlessly and grinned, then shot back to my table with my plate of buffet.

Evening meetings dragged on for-fucking-ever. I bee-lined back to the hotel room after dinner (I skipped dessert, claiming fullness, much to the shock of my co-workers) and hopped into the shower, careful to give my hole a lot of cleaning attention. I got out of the shower, and basically vibrated on my bed for about half an hour, waiting for Roger to come back to the room.

When I heard the door click open with the magnetic card, my dick jumped. I was sprawled out naked on my bed, and when Roger came around the corner, he was holding the mock-up order card and grinning with a lot more of the nasty than last night.

“So,” he said in his gravelly voice, “Let’s see. You’ve selected the Dad-dick and boy-lips, mouthwatering and salty. That’s a very good choice. And for your meal, you’d like the Doggy-style boy-hole, with hard pounded dad-cock, which I promise you has been excellently prepared this evening. And I notice you’ve strongly suggested that you don’t need any extra condiments, which makes me very happy. You’ll be drinking cum and pit-sweat, which I’ll point out is two selections, but the management is feeling generous tonight, and for dessert you’re going to have the dad-fingers dipped in boy-hole, brought fresh to your mouth for your licking pleasure. Excellent.”

He smiled at me, “And we noticed your extra dietary needs, and I did bring an order of rough dad-cock with a gag, and I promise you the red-spanked boy-ass is a remarkable experience.”

I laughed, and then he said, “Get that mouth on my dick, boy.”

I sucked him just like the night before, if a little more frantic, and he stepped out of his pants and shucked his shirt while I knelt before him on the floor. I gobbled his dick, and he gripped my short hair with one hand, shoving my head up and down on his cock while he grunted and said, “yeah, boy,” and “good boy.” It wasn’t long before he said, “up,” and tugged on my hair, and I climbed up onto the bed, facing my aching ass out towards him. God I wanted him to fuck me.

He spat on my hole and rubbed his fingertip around, and pushed his finger into my hole once, then twice.

“You are fucking tight, boy,” he said, “Daddy is going to rip you open.”

“Yes please, sir,” I begged, and he laughed with his gravelly voice.

He spat on my hole a few more times, and some into his hand, which he rubbed with the spit from my blowing him, and then I felt his thick cock-head at my hole. I took a deep breath, tried to relax my hole, and he grabbed one of my shoulders with one hand.

“Tell me you want daddy to sperm your hole, boy.”

“Breed me, daddy,” I begged.

He shoved into me with a violent thrust, and I yelled into the pillow. He stayed inside me for a moment, breathing heavy, and leaned over me.

“Boy want his gag now? We can combine two entrees with no extra charge?”

I nodded, and he pulled out just as roughly. I let another grimace and gasp out, and then he was back behind me, his beard tickling my neck as he spoke.

“If daddy puts this gag on, how you going to tell him if he’s being too tough on you, boy?”

“If the boy passes out,” I said, voice throaty, “Then daddy is being too tough.”

He grabbed my throat, and his whiskers were at my ear.

“You are a fucking smart-ass boy, and daddy loves fucking a smart ass boy,” he said, and then shoved the tie in my mouth, tying it around my open jaw. He repositioned himself behind me, grabbing the back of my neck this time instead of my shoulder, and holding his cock at my hole with his other hand, he said, “Daddy is going to fuck you now, boy.”

He shoved in again, and I screamed into the gag, muffled. He held himself inside for a while, then slowly pulled back, inching his dick out of my ass, to the point where he almost came out of me, then shoved forward again, his hand clenching on the back of my neck. I made another hoarse muffled cry, and he chuckled.

“Too damned tight, boy. If you’d been a better boy and had a looser hole, you’d be having as much fun as daddy.”

He pulled out again, and shoved again, and the spit and raw skin was barely enough lubrication for my ass. I burned with it, but he showed no mercy – as a good daddy never does – and soon I was barely catching my breath between yells as he pounded the shit out of my ass with his dad-cock. Sweat, as he’d promised, leaked from his pits and chest, dripping on the small of my back as he thrust in and out of me. My ass stung with it, my elbows and knees shook from taking the force of his fucking, and I was making animal noises deep in my throat with every stroke. He fucked like a mad-man, calling me a boy slut, a boy whore, his boy hole. And when I was sure I couldn’t take any more, he began a series of thrusts that were lifting my knees off the bed, before he grunted deep and planted his seed so far up my hole I felt it would leak from my nostrils. The immediate relief of the hot cum inside my battered hole was intense, and I sobbed into my gag.

Roger held himself inside, and I felt one, then two more spurts of cum from his throbbing cock. And then, roughly, he yanked himself out of me, and he shoved my back so I collapsed onto the bed. He pushed his rough fingers into my hole with one hand, and yanked at the gag with the other.

“Here’s your drink and dessert, boy, eat it all up!” he snarled, shoving his cummy fingers into my mouth. I licked and sucked them four or five times, he re-dipping them into my battered hole, I greedily sucking the cum from them. Then he collapsed down beside me, lifted his left arm and shoved my face into his pit, where I licked and sucked at the sweat.

We lay like that for a while, breathing and quiet, and then he turned to me and grinned in that nasty way. His right hand was running small circles on my ass.

“You still want your red-spanked boy-ass now? Or maybe for tomorrow’s entrée after all.”

I grinned, “Tomorrow,” I agreed, “Although I hope there are fresh options on the menu card.”

There were, but that’s another chapter of this story.

It turned out that we weren’t quite done for the night – I sucked him off twice more over the course of the night, and in the morning, he got three fingers into my ass and talked dirty to me while I beat off a nice sticky mess for the cleaning staff to tidy, before we went off to our respective meetings.

“I’ll have your menu for you by lunch,” Roger smiled, “I’ve got an idea or two.”

That got me hard, which made the morning meetings unbearable.

Finally, at lunch break over very unappealing buffet food, Roger caught me for a moment and passed me the envelope. We only had a half-hour to eat, so I wolfed down lunch, dashed off to the bathroom, and opened the envelope, so turned on I had a lump in my throat.

This time, the menu was:

Starters

Your choice of:

Dad-dick and boy-lips, mouthwatering and salty.

Dad-ass and boy-tongue, deeper the better.

Dad-fingers in boy-hole, with boy-cock, jerked.

Entrees

Your choice of:

1. Dad-cock in a wrapped and tied boy, with a crème sauce glaze.

2. Rough dad-cock in boy-hole, gags as required for neighbouring rooms comfort.

3. Raw boy-hole, served up raw in your bathroom, with facial toilet water dunking upon request.

4. Reddened boy-ass, fingered and pounded thereafter with a rough crème sauce glaze.

5. Elbow-deep Dad-fist in tight boy-hole, with jerked boy-cock sauce.

All meals come raw, with saliva sauce, but upon request, rubbers and/or lube can be added to your entrée.

Drinks

Your choice of:

Cum

Dad spit, mouth to mouth or as a light whipped topping.

Piss juice up boy-hole (available in shower stall)

Boy-spit, fresh from dad’s nipple

Desserts

Your choice of:

Bound boy-hole, for Dad’s use and enjoyment.

Dad-hole seated on boy-face, for deep enjoyment.

Twisted boy-nipple, reddened, with Dad-spit.

Please note that we received notice that your special diet requires multiple servings to retain a healthy lifestyle. We have acquired a second chef for this purpose, who will be happy to serve you this evening if you’d like (place a star beside choices in which you’d like both chefs present, or, alternatively, beside two choices for dual-servings).

My fingers shook I was so turned on – and a little worried about the “second chef” I was quickly marking as definitely desired this evening. I circled choices rapidly, and scribbled a note at the bottom:

“I am very pleased at the management’s personal attention to my needs. I hope I can be as accommodating a client as possible on this, my last night’s stay. Bring whatever tools you would like for my meal this evening, as I trust the management implicitly, and would like nothing else than their complete orchestration of the event.”

I walked up to Roger, just as the lunch break was ending, and saw he was chatting with a wide-shouldered bear-type fellow with a full black beard. I tapped him on the shoulder, and handed him the envelope. I saw the other fellow leering at me, and Roger smiled.

“I’ll see you later,” he said.

“Guest chef?” I asked, nodding to the bearish guy.

Roger winked.

I got back to the room as early as I could, and, sure enough, had beaten Roger back. I went straight for the bathroom, showered, nearly shivering with anticipation, and it wasn’t till I got out of the bathroom that I saw he had made it back before me, and left something on the bed. It was a plain opaque plastic bag – the sort you get from stores that sell things they know their clientele don’t want advertised – with a note in Roger’s hand on it: “For your use as preferred.” I tipped it out eagerly.

There was a blindfold, a pair of fake leather wrist cuffs that could be connected with a short chain, a plastic gag, and a dildo that seemed at least as thick as Roger’s already prodigious cock.

I slipped on the pleather wrist guards, though I didn’t connect them, and put the blindfold down – I wanted to see them both, quite frankly – and although I was tempted and horned up to high heaven, I didn’t play with the dildo at all – my ass, damned abused the night before, was still sore, and I wanted to endure as much as I could with my two “chefs.” The gag I put handily in reach on the bedside table, and waited.

And waited.

I swear they were trying to rile me up (they as much as admitted so, later), but they took another good twenty minutes to arrive. When the keycard chirped in the door, I thought I was going to yelp out loud. Roger and his friend entered, and Roger, who’d seen me sprawled out naked for him once already, grinned. His friend said, “Eager,” with a bemused smirk.

“Now let’s see,” Roger said, with deliberate slowness. My dick was hard and bobbing on the bed, which was a strangely erotic experience in front of two clothed men. He pulled out the “menu” and read out my selections. “For starters, you’ve selected a double helping of Dad dick with boy lips, which is an excellent start, as you know,” He grinned, and undid the button on his pants, “And for your entrees, you’ve selected the Reddened boy-ass, fingered and pounded, and the rough dad cock in gagged boy, which makes the chefs very happy, as it is a pleasure to make.” The black-bearded bear chuckled, shaking his head a little, and I writhed a little on the bed. “You’ll be drinking cum and dad-spit, and for dessert, you’ve selected the bound boy-hole for Dad’s use and enjoyment – which makes me very happy – and the Dad hole seated on boy’s face, for deep enjoyment, which I’m told is one of the specialties of our guest chef. Two excellent choices. We’re a little let down that you didn’t select any of the piss dishes this evening, but maybe we can change your mind a little later, hmm?” He gestured to the dark-haired bear fellow he’d brought with him, “And this is your guest chef for the evening, Serge.”

“Hi, sir,” I said, smiling wickedly. He nodded, then unzipped his slacks.

They’re weren’t good at sharing my mouth, which is to say, with both of them kneeling, naked, on the bed, and me sprawled out on my stomach in front of them, I didn’t get very long with Roger’s dick before Serge would grab my head and shove my face onto his dick. Serge, it turned out, wasn’t as hairy as Roger, but his thicker frame had a light dusting of very dark hairs on a wide chest that turned me on just fine. His dick was uncut (more’s the pity!) but longer than Roger’s, and his balls hung very heavy and low. I loved slurping them up in turns with his dick, and from his growls, he enjoyed it, too. They passed me back and forth until my jaw started to ache, and long dribbles of my spit were slathered on their cocks.

“If you let the cunt finish his starter,” Roger said, “I’ll start work on the first dish.”

Serge moved to the head of the bed, and sat back, his cock waving in the air. I crawled up the bed, leaving my ass up in the air for Roger, and swallowed Serge as deep as I could. He pushed his hand on the back of my neck, grunting, and said, “Good boy.”

Fuck but there is just something about a rough bear or daddy calling me “boy.”

Roger said, “Daddy’s going to slap your ass red, slut.”

Serge muttered, “You bite me, and you are fucking beaten, boy.” I nodded around his cock, and Roger’s hand connected with my ass for the first time. It stung – he hadn’t been gentle, of course, and I shivered down my entire body as he brought the flat of his hand against my ass again. Slap! Slap! I sucked desperately on Serge’s cock, and Serge bucked into my face with a muttered, “fuck yeah.”

Slap! Again. Again.

Roger’s spanks came at random intervals, without a rhythm for me to prepare myself for. They stung – hard slaps to my ass that I could already feel burning. As they continued, I let out a whimper or two, and Serge yanked on my short hair to pull my face up a little.

“You like that, eh, slut?” he said.

“Yes sir,” I agreed, tears in my eyes from the stinging. Roger gave me another – very hard – slap and I yelped. I heard him laugh behind me.

“Nice and red,” he said, his rough hands rubbing my burning cheeks, his fingers and thumbs running between and teasing my crack, “Let’s see if the inside is done,” and then he shoved a finger up my hole. I moaned in lust – this was what I wanted, what I always want – the daddy inside me. Serge moved off, some of my own saliva smearing on my cheek as he left, and I buried my face in the pillow as Roger twisted his finger inside me.

“Fucking tight ass, boy. You’re going to feel it,” He chuckled. He removed his finger, and then I felt two fingers shoved inside, rough and careless. I arched my back and gasped with the quick pain of it, and heard Serge chuckle, “good cunt.”

The bear was definitely the rougher of the two.

They took turns fingering my red hole.

“You want my cock in there, don’t you, boy?” said Serge.

“He wants it,” Roger answered for me, “Wants mine, too, the fucking slut.”

“Gag, boy, now,” Serge snapped, and I scrambled to grab the gag and shoved it into my mouth. Roger slid up beside me, and put his arms up behind his head. He grinned at me, nastily, and said, “We flipped a coin,” he said, “Serge gets to fuck you first, boy.”

Serge lay down on top of me, his full weight pushing the breath out of me. His beard scratched at my neck and ear and he rubbed his cock along my burning crack once, twice. He moved his lips to my ear, and said, “Are you my cunt?”

I nodded, gagged.

“You gonna scream for me?”

I nodded again.

“I’m going to fucking tear you up, cunt, you got a problem with that?”

I shook my head.

He laughed, “Good cunt,” and then got off me, pulled me up onto my knees, and grabbed my waist. He lined his dick up against my hole, and I realized that most of my spit had dried during their fingering. He let go of my waist with one hand, and then I felt his head against my hole, pushing, forcing.

Serge shoved in hard, and I saw lights in front of my eyes as the intrusion hit me. I made a screech into my gag, muffled, and Serge panted twice, saying, “Fucking tight cunt… nice cunt… oh yeah.”

“Good boy,” Roger said, and rubbed the back of my neck, “You’re a good boy for daddy.”

Serge pulled back, dragging his dick through my burning hole, and then shoved forward again, hard. I yelled again into the gag, and he repeated the motion. He was slow at first, but didn’t give my ass much time to recover between his violent thrusts. My elbows shook, and I thought I was going to topple onto my face, but Roger put a hand on my chest and sort of held me up.

“Good boy,” he repeated, almost lovingly, “You’re a good fucking boy. That bear is going to rip you up, and you take it for daddy, okay?”

I nodded. Serge, behind me, rammed into my ass again, and this time, rebounded quickly. He was ready to pound my ass, and my vote didn’t count. He gripped my waist with both hands again, and started to piston fuck me. I quickly lost my breath between gasping and groaning into the gag, and stars were bursting in front of my eyes.

“He’s gonna breed you, boy, you want that, don’t you, boy…” Roger was nearly chanting in my ear. Despite the assault on my ass, I was still semi-hard through the pain, and the burning in my ass was growing hotter with each shove from Serge’s long dick. He slapped into me with fury, and the sweat between our bodies was starting to make that little popping noise. Serge started to groan, then he lost his rhythm and shoved hard into me, slamming his full weight into my hole, and collapsed on top of me, knocking me off my knees and elbows. I felt his dick pop inside me, and the burn of his cum in my battered hole made me yell into my gag one more time. The slickness of it didn’t seem to ease the fire in my ass at all.

Serge took a moment to breathe, then yanked his cock out of me. I felt my ass leak onto the bedsheets.

Panting, Serge said, “All yours,” to Roger, and then leaned into my ear again and said, “Fucking good cunt, boy.”

Roger got off the bed, and pulled on my ankles, which made me flail a little at first. He said, “Just getting you ready, boy,” and he positioned me off the end of the bed, my red, dripping ass at a good height for him.

“Daddy wants his turn now, boy,” Roger said, “Like you said, if you pass out, Daddy is too rough, right?”

I managed to nod, and Roger reached under me and squeezed my dick. I was still semi-hard, and he laughed.

“Boy likes his dick.”

Serge laughed, and pushed sticky fingers around my gag. I tasted cum.

After Serge’s breeding, Roger’s dick lanced into my hole with a slickness that left him free to raise the tempo rapidly. He assaulted my ass much in kind, and told me I was a good boy, a good slut, a daddy’s dream as he pounded my ass. It burned and I yelled into my gag, and Roger seemed to take pity and let himself cum, with his surging three spurts, fairly quickly after he’d begun.

With a deep grunt as he came, he stayed inside me for a few more heartbeats, and then pulled out. Roger tugged out my gag, rolling me over onto my back – my ass burned at the movement – and Roger’s slick dick, coated in the cum of two men, slid into my mouth. I sucked it down greedily, and Serge, still not good at sharing my mouth, did the same.

“Drink up, boy,” Serge laughed, and then lay down. Roger did, too.

The three of us lay there for a while, just panting. My ass burned, but I had that glorious “full” feeling in my hole. I’d been fucked damned right by two fucking hot dad/bear types. Piggy heaven.

“Dessert,” Roger mumbled, and I turned to see him looking at me wolfishly. His hand snaked down my side, and cupped one ass cheek, still hot to the touch. Serge grunted, and sat up, then stood on the bed, which swayed. He swung one leg over me, and then crouched above my face, his heavy balls and his ass – also lightly dusted with black hair, I noticed – just over my nose.

“You eat that up good, you hear?” he said.

I lifted my face – tongue already flicking, and buried myself into his ass. Rimming him as deep as I dared with my tongue, I wrapped my arms around his thighs and breathed in the scent of his musk between slurps. As I licked and slobbered into Serge’s hole, Roger moved, and his hands took my ankles. He pushed my legs up, bending at the knees, and I felt Serge take hold of them.

And then Roger’s tongue began to lick and flick at my exposed, pounded, sore, bred hole. I arched my back, which pushed my tongue further into Serge’s ass, and Roger grabbed my ass cheeks and really dove into his rim job. I felt myself harden between his attentions and my enjoyment of a bear’s ass on my face, and Serge made noises of lust above me.

I desperately wanted to cum. My dick was hard, but when I tried to reach my hand to touch it, Serge batted my hand away, and said, “No boy, you don’t touch your dick, daddy touches your dick.” Moments later, he’d shifted holding up my legs by hooking them through one elbow, and with his freed hand he wrapped his fingers around my dancing cock.

He squeezed as I licked his hole, and Roger made grunts and slurps at mine. I moaned with it, wriggling and writhing underneath them, and Serge began to pump my cock with deliberate slow, hard, tugs. Roger alternated with fingers, his tongue, a thumb, and – eventually – the dildo with rapt attention, and tugged on my balls as Serge jerked me faster and faster. I nearly screamed into Serge’s ass when I came, splattering his forearm and some of his stomach and slightly hairy chest with my cum.

After that, we rearranged ourselves, and after a good fun time of licking Serge clean, and sucking on Roger’s fingers, Serge noted he had better get back to his own roommate before he wondered where he was (we were all, after all, flying to our respective homes the next day). He padded to the bathroom and started the shower, to clean off what I hadn’t licked.

“Good boy,” Roger said, and gave my ass a squeeze.

The rest of the night passed fairly eventless – I slept like the dead for a good long while, though I did wake up early enough to receive a pleasant face-fucking from Roger before we both had to shower and get ready to go. And in the shower, he shoved me up against the tile and fucked my sorry sore hole one last time with a furious abandon, calling me his little whore for use, his good boy, and the like. I shot my load while he was in me, jerking myself rapidly under the hot water, before he bred another load deep into my guts with a nearly roared grunt of satisfaction.

“I wish I could have talked you into taking my piss,” he grinned at me, as I packed my bags, “And I would love to tie you down…” I could see the line of his dick in his pants again.

“We should request each other as roommates next year, then,” I smiled, and handed him one of my business cards – the second I had given away the entire time I’d been at these godforsaken meetings.

Serge had the other one.