web log analysis Confessions of a Promiscuous Top: Fuck, I Fuckin Love to Fuckin FUCK

Monday, October 27, 2014

Fuck, I Fuckin Love to Fuckin FUCK

Tonight my dick is sore and the shaft is red and tender, because for an hour and a half this afternoon I drilled the holy hell out of the hairy-chested little Latino, with a fuckstick hard and throbbing as a teenager's. And I shot my ejaculate into him so deep and hard that I can't believe it didn't squirt out of his ears. And it was fuckin GOOD.

It is surprising how hot and intense it immediately became with him. He is not, again, really my type in the face. I just fucked him barely more than two weeks ago. I really wanted new meat today. But when he hit me up on Scruff, saying he was free this week and would make himself available to me at a half hour's notice, I decided, he's the one I want to put my semen in. I told him I would text him if I freed up in the afternoon. Work was frustrating and going nowhere. I had a physical therapy appointment at 4pm. My partner has a couple of part time jobs now and would be away. So after lunch, two hours before my appointment, I texted him, saying, "Come over." Instantly he said, "I will be there in 30 minutes." And he was. He feels it too. We fuck good together.

He showed up a little sweaty again-- he really does basically run over here. I didn't realize until today how far away he lives; I knew he was in the next neighborhood up from me, but he's actually almost on the far opposite side of that to me, and if I were to walk it it would take well over 20 minutes. Somehow he took a shower and got here in barely more than that time. I took off his coat and held his little body in my hands and kissed him slowly in the foyer, and then got him a glass of water to cool him down, kissing him between sips, feeling my tongue inside his pleasantly cold mouth. We exchanged a few minor pleasantries between sips and kisses and then went back to the bedroom and began making out seriously. With every heartbeat my dick swelled more and more with blood. It was one of those erections you get when you are 13. Your heart thuds, and your meat stirs. Your heard thuds, and your meat swells. Your heart thuds, and your meat lengthens. Thud: you are straining against the fabric of your pants. At this point he put his hand to my shorts and felt my length and melted in my arms, excited to feel me excited for him. Thud: your meat is now a hard cylinder pointing ahead. He pulled down my shorts and gently grazed my now fat, tingling dickhead with his hand, and cradled my balls. Thud: your dick levitates and bounces from the engorging blood. Thud: You are pointing straight up. He wrapped his fingers around my shaft and I breathed into his ear. The magic of the top's rock-hard erection suffused his bottomy little body, and he just fell to his knees, one hand still on my hairy nuts, and he slowly slid my painfully straining bone into his beautifully velvety mouth. I groaned, "You made my dick so hard, so fast! Feel how hard you make my dick!" He sucked me so perfectly that I could have cried. I held his dark-haired head in my hands and gently fucked my tool in and out of his mouth, pulling out far so he could feel the ridge of my dickhead, crowning glory of my manhood, slide between his lips. I was so excited, and he just serviced me there on the floor in silence as several long minutes passed us by, reverent of our pleasure together.

And for a half an hour he pleasured me and I touched his little body and kissed him and lay on top of him and held him close to me, cradling his ass cheek in one hand, gently probing his hole with one fingertip while the other stroked his flank and caressed his face, grinding my prick against him. "It feels so amazing, and I'm not even inside you yet," I crooned. I brushed my beard against his neck and sucked on the hollow where his collarbone ended, and electric thrills surged through his body; he squirmed and gasped and clutched at my body with helpless pleasure as I chewed on these sensitive spots, slowly circled my tongue around the cartilage of his ear, slid into the opening, licked behind, then bit gently near his juglar. "I just want to give you my ass completely when you lick my neck like that," he whimpered, in a break when I let him come up for air. His ass was still in my hand, MY ass rather, as his ass was mine for the afternoon. I really felt his complete surrender. And my hard, straining dick proved my own pleasure and desire for him.

Half an hour of intense dizzying pleasure and I hadn't even penetrated him. I ate his ass out slowly, licking his balls and sending more jolts of uncontrollable trembling pleasure through his bottomy little body. And then heaved my big frame onto his little shape and very slowly worked my fat, oozing prong into him, or rather, held it there firmly while he squirmed back onto it, taking me into him at exactly the speed he needed, till he opened perfectly to accept me and I bottomed out against my hairy nuts. I fucked him from behind like that very slowly, and he grew slicker and less resistant inside, and turned his head to watch my efforts, a bottom rapt in the power of his top, pinned to the bed, only able to receive, receive, receive, over and over. And I fucked him like that for long, languid minutes, and he just shook his head and stared at me when his eyes weren't closed in ecstasy. It was so good.

And then I pulled out and pushed him on his side, pulled him against me, and touched his body all over while we kissed and he held my slimy dick. And I said, "Will you suck me some more? You make my dick feel so good." He seemed a little wary and I thought maybe he was not used to sucking a dick that had just been drilling his ass. But I had slicked up my dick a little with my own hand before I guided his hand there to stroke me, and I knew there was no smell except the fresh, briny tinge of the inside of a bottom who is thoroughly enjoying himself. He had nothing to fear. But he approached my fiendishly swollen choad very tentatively, admiring it from a few angles before just licking the head, then carefully sucking only the bulb of my glans into his mouth and gently sucking there. But I wanted more, I wanted the full-throated love he had shown my staff at the beginning, before it went inside him, so I held his head firmly on both sides and slowly fucked my length into his mouth, not forcing, not fast, not hard, but with the authority of the owner of the fuck bone. At this point I was little more than a fuck bone, myself; completely possessed by my rutting lust to penetrate him. And he relaxed and let me fuck his own ass juices into his mouth, and then he was pliant and sucked me the way he knew I wanted to be sucked. I lazily accepted the pleasure, limbs sprawled heavily at my sides, my foot idly stroking the hanging genitals between his legs, just accepting the devotion to my pleasure he was giving. I felt like my whole body was sinking into a delightfully fizzy ocean; every time he passed his hand over my hairy thigh or chest I felt zings of pleasure through my entire body. We had been at it for an hour and my head was a whorl of sensation. I never wanted to cum. I wanted to cum so bad. I never wanted to cum.

Then I pushed him on his back and found his hole and staring intently into him, his eyes never leaving mine, I fucked him like a piston. His legs were hitched back and his body was on full display and over and over my thick shaft appeared and disappeared inside him again, and somehow, another half hour passed, just mindless intense connected fucking, sweating, kissing deep, chewing more on that magic spot on his neck that made him want to pull my entire body into him somehow. And then the inevitable animal, mindless ramming that is required after so much pleasure, so much pleasure; the vicious pounding to make the cum rise out of the balls and into all the recesses of your sexual equipment, and the extra sensation needed to force one last burst of hormones into your blood, fill your body with the hot sensation of climax, and begin the pulsing eruption that ends it all. I stared at him hard and mean while I fucked myself over the edge, and he looked at me with wonder, and then I felt my face melt into  helpless release, and he saw I was coming before he felt the flood in his guts, and he closed his eyes and pulled me to him, and I pushed in as far as I could go and forced it all into him, feeling his guts turn to hot gold around my bucking erection. He cradled my head through all the pulsing and squirting and held me close as I panted and sighed and slowly woke up again to the color and sound of the outside world.

I pulled out of him still fucking hard. What the hell does he do to me? So hard that the head felt stuck at the edge of the sphincter and had to be tugged out with a pop that made him gasp. And then he put his hand to my slimy penis like a prize, gently feeling the contours of the organ that had fucked him into the mesmerized state he found himself in. We held each other and cooled down and kissed and God, it was good.

He is a sweet kid. We talked a good bit about his job hunting. He is having trouble and I wish him well.  But we couldn't linger too long; I'd spend an hour and a half with my dick inside him and time was running out before my appointment. I know he wants me to fuck him over and over. If I knew it could always be like this, I *would* fuck him over and over. But paradoxically, perfection like this makes me shy away. I couldn't handle a disappointing, hum-drum fuck with this kid. I'll have to wait a while before I stand next to his fire again like this. He trotted off into the afternoon, loaded to the gills with my masculine emission. He checked out my profile on Scruff early in the evening. I wrote to him, telling him my dick was sore and raw from all the fucking, but that he made me feel amazing. He said he couldn't piss for an hour because he'd been so thoroughly fucked. That was a new one on me! "Keep in touch," he said. Yet I will have to keep a small distance, so we can be in touch again another time. I'll need time to miss him, want him so completely again, forget a bit so I can remember in flushed excitement what he does to my sex. But FUCK, he makes me feel like a complete top.

4 comments:

  1. I get what you mean about missing someone to make sure it remains special. Like anything else, we become comfortable with things we have day after day...it's no longer special. Thanks again for a hot post.
    BlkJack

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    1. It's kind of sad, isn't it, Jack? I think some people are happy with sameness, but I always need something new and different. It makes for great restlessness, often great disappointment, but at times like this, great satisfaction too.

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  2. By far your best post yet...you are an incredible writer. I would love to meet you some time.

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    1. Thanks, Anonymous! This was a fantastic fuck for sure. I'm glad I did it justice in the post.

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