Raw!

Today I got to slip my raw dick in the guy who hoodwinked me into fucking him rubbered up a while back, Wild Irish Rose. It's autumn and the air is crisp and clear and my libido is out of fucking control. I had a good bit of work to do this morning. Ultra Meat is back in town and resumed his endless campaign to suck me off with a text at 8am; I informed him that I had to give my high-pressure load to someone else in his absence, and he said "I'll take any load from you." I don't want to hook up with him again until I'm seriously loaded up with pent-up cum, so I begged off. Then a really cute guy in Chelsea, who really ought to have all the dicks from 14th St to 34th St aimed at his sweet little body, started hitting me up, and my inaccessibility due to the East River subway situation seemed to make me absolutely irresistible, so there was a new message from him about how much he wanted me inside him every time I took a break to check messages on Manhunt. A cute kid in his 20s with a sweet, taut little body hit me up and wanted me to fuck him but didn't want to go raw... but looking at his midsection made my dick swell and caused a huge hormone spill in my bloodstream. Everyone in NYC seems completely sex-crazed after the storm, for some reason, but I'm basically at the intersection of two non-working subway lines, so I'm hopelessly remote unless I drive somewhere in Brooklyn. All these bottoms got my nuts churning and tingling and I felt that ache in my hips that can only be mollified by thrusting them, hard, against a firm body with a yielding hole. I needed to feel big round ass cheeks in my face. And Wild Irish Rose is the one who served as the ultimate beneficiary of these needs.

A week or two ago, I actually ran into Wild Irish Rose on BBRTS, where he has no face pix. He wrote me, maybe not knowing who I was, as I have a different screen name there, and different pix, than on other sites. I recognized his body right away, but then also realized from reading his profile that I'd hit on him there before in the years since I moved to NYC, and each time he would tease my prick but never come through and not sign on again for months at a time. So this time, when he hit me up, I unlocked my face picture and chided him for making me put on a rubber after luring me over to his neighborhood on the promise of skin-on-skin fucking. He just said "I just want to find the right neg top to breed me." I asked him point-blank if this was just a fantasy thing for him-- I told him it was fine, I wasn't mad, but was just curious about how seriously to interpret his advances. He reiterated his desire to have me "breed" him (a term that really doesn't turn me on that much, honestly; I much prefer circumlocutions such as "squirt your thick gooey genetic material deep inside my guts so I can absorb you for hours after you leave"). So I told him when things calmed down a bit after jury duty and the story, that I would come over and ejaculate inside him with pleasure and glee.

Every couple of days since then he's hit me up, sometimes just to chat in a friendly way but mostly to talk about breeding breeding breeding. I figured, if he pulls out a rubber on me again I'm gonna be pissed.

Today he hit me up this morning during a work break and I didn't expect to go over there. But after the day's nonstop hot bottom onslaught, I decided to go with the sure thing. After all, even with my dick encased in plastic, he was pretty fun to fuck. So I asked him if he wanted me to come by and dick him down. He began being evasive again, not answering my notes for long stretches, asking me to breed him, asking when I was last tested, expressing his deep and abiding love for my cum, asking if I had poppers, asking if I was going to drive, yadda yadda. I figured he was teasing me again. But finally I got an unequivocal yes-- after promising I'd cum down his throat instead of in his guts-- and so I got his address and number again and drove over. On the way, I texted him asking if he had tight colored briefs. He said he did, and would I rip them off him, and did I want him in a harness, and should he be ass-up when I walked in and he could unlock the door when I was parking and leave the door open and and and a bunch of other things that were not exactly what I asked for. I told him I just wanted him in tight colored briefs and a t-shirt under his clothes, so I could run my hands over them before I took them off. No harness. No ass-up. I tell you, all of the pomp and circumstance some guys want to erect around the simple act of sticking a penis in a hole is completely tedious to me. I feared the worst.

But he answered the door in jeans and a t-shirt-- a wrinkled and baggy one, unfortunately; I should have specified "tight" for that too. But it was ok. We went upstairs, and I stood behind him breathing on his neck and tugging at his nipples through his shirt and running my hands up and down the inside of his thighs and he shuddered and sighed and his dick (which really is impressively big and fat, bigger than mine) swelled up nicely in his pants. I pulled them down and admired his ass swelling out in the briefs, and the thick knot of meat hanging in the front pouch. "Very very nice," I breathed into his ear. And he seemed to enjoy being the object of this kind of attention, despite all the hackneyed sexual tropes he was throwing at me earlier; he stood at attention and let me touch him how I wanted to, occasionally weakening at the knees.

I bent him over the bed, chewed his ass through the briefs, then disposed of them with a toss to the side, as they had served their noble purpose of getting my dick fat in all of 90 seconds, maybe. And then I just began to eat. His hole is extremely accepting and supple, and I could get my tongue in almost all the way with ease. This is how I like it, not a tight hole you have to fight with, but a taut but ultimate yielding sheath for me to slide my meatsword into.

I sucked his fat nuts into my mouth a few times and ate around a bit, but my dick was already steely and throbbing, so I stood up and twapped it against his exposed crack a few times. He reacted with an obvious combination of excitement and nerves. I slid it around the hole a bit, but then crouched back down to eat some more. The poppers bottle came out and he huffed like fifth grader at sleepaway camp. I decided this was enough foreplay-- probably a record for me, as I don't even think I'd been there five minutes yet, hadn't even kissed him, and hadn't even put my dick in his mouth. But I just wanted in that velvety chute. So I mounted him, aimed, and pushed.

And it slid in into him with one gliding motion, like a missile on greased rails. He felt so good inside, so smooth and warm and enveloping, that I almost came right away. The image of his bent-over posture, with those hairy thick haunches bulging to each side and that impossibly tiny waist above the big round hairy globes of his ass, and the swelling tight lats swelling to each side, drilled deep into my brain, the thrill running right down my spine and into my dick. I wanted to pound him like last time but I was too excited. So I had to temper my movements. I kept him appraised of everything, letting him know how he felt inside, how much I loved fucking his body, how much I wanted to give him my cum. When I couldn't thrust for fear of triggering a tsunami of seminal fluid, I groped his body, pulling his hips hard up against me so my tool ground into him as deep as it could go; kneading his ass cheeks while admiring the shaft of my tool buried halfway inside him; gripping him from around the front with each hand inside each of his thighs (something bottoms seem to find extremely exciting when you're fucking them from behind)... If I couldn't ram him I could at least manhandle him and feel his flesh as intensely as possible. His body was so fucking exciting and I told him over and over how excited it was making me. And then I think a little bit of cum ran into him. I wasn't cumming copiously, but it's inevitable, really. It took the pressure off. I could fuck him for real now.

And I rammed him from behind, riding him high so my dickhead would slam into his prostate, or riding him low so our thighs could slide against each other and my dick could slide frictionlessly along the barrel of his ass. I fucked and fucked and fucked him till I was dripping sweat all over him. We laughed at how good it felt; we grimaced at how good it felt; we shook our heads at how good it felt. This was serious fucking.

"When you get close," he said, "tell me, so I can get on my knees beside the bed and you can aim it into my mouth," he said. I told him OK. He asked me to eat his ass some more; I think I was putting too much weight on his knees and he needed a break, which I could understand; I'm a big guy and I'd been all over him for half an hour at this point. I said OK and ate. But I could only do it for a minute. I had to get my dick back in. It slid right in. I was in awe of this eminently fuckable body. "Turn over," I sneeded, "lay on your back." He did, and I grabbed his ankles and slid his body away from the pillows up close to my hips, and pushed his legs open, pulled his legs apart, pushed them back, hovered with the tip of my dick on his hole, and pushed. Another perfect slide, I didn't even have to guide it with my hands. I plowed the hell out of him, we looked in each other's eyes and I touched his face all over and put my fingers in his mouth and sucked his earlobe and pounded into him without stopping.

He wanted me to cum. He got beside the bed. I tried to jerk off in his mouth. I stood up and aimed at his face. It wasn't going to work. I needed to fuck the load out. I pushed him back onto the bed on his back, and stuck it back in, and took what I wanted, ramming my body into his as hard as I could. The cum rose from my nuts. It rose from my nuts. I felt it flooding my tubes. I felt it pressing against all my ducts. I felt the cum. I was gonna fucking cum. I pulled out, clambered up to his face, and shot a long thick jet into his gaping mouth. And another and another, and the rest came short and glazed his face and neck and shoulders. I wiped the cum that missed the target up with my fingers and fed it to him. He licked greedily. He jerked off hard and came without any visible cum but a lot of writhing and a chest flushed red.

I was a disgusting sweaty mess, and so was he. "That was *crazy*," he said, and I said, "It was fantastic. But I seriously need a shower." He sent me to the bathroom and I cleaned up. I was still sweating when I got out of the shower. "I gotta cool down before I get dressed, I think," I said, and he got me some water and we chatted about the storm, about barebacking, about my partner. I told him I hope he didn't feel pressured into it, and he said no, it was his decision. Apparently he never does this. I got up in there! Awesome. I never want anyone to do anything they aren't comfortable with... but I love it when a guy relents and lets *me* in (and yes I know he could be lying but at least it was the right lie). Apparently he'd done nothing for the past week, during the time when the subway wasn't running at all, doing nothing but jerking off, sometimes four times a day. He said he'd already cum earlier in the day, which I guess explained the dry orgasm he gave me. I was impressed he could take a forty minute onslaught from a big hairy top with empty nuts, and stay hard too!

I finally cooled off and got dressed. "Let's do it again!" he said. He's a very fun fuck... but I dunno. It'd have to be a while. I hope he doesn't drive me crazy asking for more. I'll probably get tested again in December, and he'll feel better, and I can finally "breed" him. But for now, I feel there is a whole army of bottoms out there who need dick... and I'm gonna give it to em.

My muscles are sore. God, I love to fuck.