Deep Inside Mancunt, or Titpig's Adventures in Barebacking, Part 8: Floodland (BBW Part two)
A low moan came from deep inside Hector’s chest as he pushed his pelvis squarely against mine. Once the dam was burst, my piss came in an urgent, steady endless stream. Time seemed to pause indefinitely.
Eventually the urgency ebbed and I pulled slowly out of his ass. Hector turned around and gave me a deep, soulful kiss, pulling on my nipples as I reached around and kneaded his soft, pillowy asscheeks. As my right hand’s fingers plied his gash, I delivered several hard spanks with the left. Pulling me as he stepped back into the rain of warm water coming from the shower head, we continued our facesucking, rinsing our heads and shoulders.
I took his face in my hands and pulled away slightly:
“That was incredible.”
Hector’s face pulled into an expression combining mirth and curiosity. “You never did that before?”
I shook my head slightly, grinning.
“Anytime you need to pee, you don’t let it waste. You call me”
We both let out a playful laugh and stroked each other’s backs.
Turning a quarter-turn to the right, I took a bottle of shower gel sitting in the niche built into the showerstall and squirted a small dollop into my hands, rubbing them first together then into his chest. He held out his hands and I squeezed some of the green liquid into them. Hector massaged the suds into my shoulders for a few moments before I spun him around and soaped his back. As my hands ranged downward, Hector bent low at the waist and grabbed my tits from behind. I fingered his ass for a bit before grabbing his hips and reinserting my dickhead into his open, pouty asslips, using soap as lube. I pulsed out precum before pushing in fully then withdrawing completely, over and over as a low grumbling moan left our mouths in unison.
I felt a return of the urgency to piss and pushed up into him as far as I could reach, letting it flow again deep into his bowels. After several seconds, Hector pivoted around and squatted in front of me, taking my dick into his mouth. Looking up at me, he nodded as we made eye contact down the length of my torso. I released a fresh load of piss into his mouth as Hector began jacking his long rubbery dick in earnest and was throbbing hard in moments. Pulling his mouth back off my penis, I continued the stream onto his face and hair.
When I was finished, Hector stood up and kissed me again. I could taste the mild saltiness of my piss on his lips and tongue, a new sensation for me. As I’ve stated previously here, I’ve peed into bathtubs before but hadn’t really explored WS as an element of sportfucking . As much as what we were doing in the showerstall excited me, I wasn’t ready to return the favor yet. Hector sensed this and was content with my limits without any discussion between us.
I returned to the bottle of shower gel and soaped us up again, rubbing the suds into his hair, massaging his scalp. Rinsing off, I opened one of the sliding glass doors and grabbed a towel sitting on the pedestal sink opposite, stepping unto my bathroom rug. Drying my head and shoulders, I opened the door to the small shelved-in closet and took out a clean towel for Hector, who was shutting off the water. Stepping into the showerstall with the new towel, I caressed it over his torso and shoulders first, then rubbed it vigorously over his head. Leaving the towel over his head, I squatted down in front of him and took his still-hard cock into my mouth. Pulling his balls to my lips, I paused only for a moment before inhaling from my nose and swallowing his entire length down my throat.
“Bite it, Papi. Bite me…”
I moved my jaw and gently chewed his shaft with my molars.
Pausing for a moment, I inhaled again through both nose and throat before masticating his massy cock in earnest. Pulling my head back slightly, I found his foreskin with my tongue and sucked hard, shoving my tongue deeply under the soft skin, licking his head as I applied a fair amount of pressure to his overhang with my front teeth. Hector took my head in his hands and began headfucking me hard, snaking his dickhead down my gullet with insistent tugs on my neck. I raked the bottom of his cock with my back-most teeth, closing my jaw down until I’d found his limit, much harder than I would have expected.
At last I stood back up and asked for a break. Hector nodded in agreement as I made my way to the bedroom with shaky legs to fetch my glass and pour some more tea.
“You want a cigarette, Papi?”
“Sure, sounds great.”
Hector pushed open my kitchen door and we both stepped down into my garden into the sultry night air.
“You are a total freak, baby. I love it.”
“You inspire me, Papi, your piss is so mild.”
“Hmm,” I considered for a moment, “…must be the tea.”
Hector’s face animated into a broad grin.
“How you learn to piss while hard?”
I considered his question for a moment, before responding.
“Same way I learned to edge, I guess…practicing for hours watching porn. It’s a skill I thought I’d never use.” I smiled shyly.
“Practice makes perfect” Hector replied as he took me into his arms, hugging me close.
Returning into the apartment, we slowly built back the sexual urgency dissipated by the break. Hector brought some dildos from his bag, which I alternated with hand and dick up his hungry hole, occasionally using a combination of two at once. We spent hours exploring each other’s bodies, walking back and forth into the showerstall whenever I needed to pee, pushing limits and exhausting each other in the process.
Rather late into the encounter curiosity finally insisted that I open the rectangular box he’d passed me from his bag hours earlier. I pushed a small latch at the split that separated the box into top and bottom halves and a spring snapped it open. Looking at the interior of the box, my face betrayed a certain confusion as I looked over at Hector, quizzically asking what it was I was seeing.
Taking the box from my hands, he pulled an aluminum rod about the size of a pencil from its place within. It was tapered like the knitting needles I remembered my grandmother using, but shorter.
“It’s a sounding kit, Papi”
His accent made what he was saying indistinct, and I scrunched my brow into an expression of incomprehension.
“Here…I’ll show you.”
Hector took a tube of KY jelly from his bag and laid back against my feather-down pillows, his shoulders leaning against my metal headboard. Unscrewing the cap, he took his half-hard dick in his left hand and retracted the long foreskin, squeezing a substantial amount into his urethra. He then set the rod down nearby.
“Wash your hands, then warm this up for me.”
Dutifully I nodded and washed all the Elbow Grease from my hands in the kitchen sink, lathering up to the elbows of each arm. Coming back into the bedroom, I saw Hector pulling absently at his dick with the KY.
I picked up the tube and started rubbing it between my hands. It eventually warmed slightly and I nodded when Hector asked me if I was ready.
He took the rod from me and inserted the tapered end into his pisshole, breathing deeply. I watched with increasing apprehension as he inched the length of the tube down his shaft. I tried to disguise my distaste with a blank expression, but felt the sweat drip down my sides. When all but an inch or two of the rod had been swallowed, his voice fell into a dull whisper:
“Pull some of it out.”
I nodded dumbly and gripped the end protruding from his dick, now gone completely soft. As I pulled it toward me, my face close in, I saw that it was pulling KY out of his slit as it was slowly withdrawn, running down his glans in several directions like lava from a volcano.
“Now push it back in”
I swallowed and retraced my efforts, sinking the rod back into his penis about half-way from where it had been.
“Jerk me…pull my dick.”
I gripped his shaft, which even soft was longer than the width of my hand, and held his foreskin back with thumb and forefinger as I gripped and slipped my hand up and down. Hector threw his head back and took deep gulps of air before inhaling from a bottle of poppers. I noticed a gradual thickening and lengthening as he responded, until I could no longer feel the rod inside his dick at all. With my left hand, I gripped the end of the rod and slowly pulled it in and out in inch-long movements.
He looked down at me and smiled, taking the rod from my fingers and withdrew it completely. Taking another rod from the case, he urged me to continue jacking him. This second rod was shorter but much stouter, almost as wide around as my pinky. When it was pushed entirely into his penis, Hector asked me to put his dick into my mouth and chew on it again. Holding his shaft between my molars, I moved my jaw down until I could feel the rod between my teeth. He was transported into fits of delirium, hissing and moaning softly.
Eventually we put the sounding kit away and returned the focus to his ass, where I deposited my seed after an extended bout of missionary fucking, my tits between his fingers, tongues meeting roars in each other’s throats.
Feeling very hungry, I suggested a dawn breakfast at The Floridian, a twenty-four hour landmark not too far from my house. Although too tweaked to eat, Hector agreed to drive me there. After yet another trip to the shower, we got dressed and piled into his Range Rover.
“Nice car,” I fingered the wood trim on the door. “What do you do?”
“I recently closed my business, when I broke up with my boyfriend.”
I nodded slowly.
“It was a furniture store. I ran my design business out of it, in Pompano.”
I was intrigued, as furniture and design were my career up until recently.
“What was it called?”
He repeated a name which I recognized with a rush. I had applied there several times during my first months in Florida, back in 2003. I strained to remember the voice on the other end of the phone line three years previously, but come up dim. All I could really remember was the amount of follow-up I’d invested in trying to score a position with the man driving us down the empty pre-dawn streets.
“You might remember me,” I offered. “I applied there several times in 2003. I even sent you a Christmas card that year.”
An odd look crossed over Hector’s face as he turned his attention to my face again, apprising with new eyes. He asked me to repeat my name, and I did. His face screwed into a ball before suddenly brightening.
“That was you?” He looked at me with an incredulous expression.
I nodded. “Seems we were destined to meet one way or another, baby.”
“Well,” he sighed, pulling my shoulders close, hugging tightly, “You might be right. I’m glad we did finally meet.”
“Me too” I exhaled, cuddling into his chest.
As I ate an omelet and drank tea, Hector sipped from a drink and the conversation continued in many directions. We discussed past design projects and shared client horror stories, chuckling at some of the more eccentric requests we’d tried to accommodate over the years. He spoke at length about his ex, a lawyer from whom he’d just recently separated, and their issues with drugs and monogamy. I listened mostly as I ate, nodding in agreement or asking for clarification when appropriate. When the bill came, Hector insisted on paying.
It was after 7:00 when he finally pulled out of my parking space, gym bag thrown in the back, with oaths of a next rendez-vous. Peeling off my clothes, I pushed the button on the fan in my bedroom and crawled into bed, too tired to resist the sleep descending like a curtain all around me.
Mid-summer was quiet at my job, allowing me more energy and time to pursue my exploits on-line. I continued to chase after Dawg, who would sometimes appear online all night without opening any notes I sent, and others after whom I lusted. Although many were more talk than action, I continued my streak of good luck with attractive powerbottoms wishing to push their limits.
A case in point was a young Indian whom I’ll name Raj. Raj approached me shyly one evening asking if I found him attractive as he opened his private pix for my inspection. Studying his profile, I noticed that he disclosed very little beyond his size and age (5’5, 120 lbs, 26 years old), and the pictures weren’t much more enlightening except as regards the shapeliness of his ass. After a brief discussion and a confirmation of his HIV status, he decided to drive up from Miami and was at my house in less than an hour.
Meeting him outside as is my custom, I saw an attractive young man climbing out of his car, extending to shake my hand while looking down. Raj was painfully shy and barely spoke above a whisper as I pulled his arm toward me and ushered him into the garden outside my apartment. The perimeter lighting confirmed my impression of a sweet and open face as it revealed a slender, boyish physique. As the tall gate clicked shut, I grabbed him close and kissed his closed mouth, attempting to open it with my tongue and the pull of suction. His eyes betrayed a slight panic and I wondered for a moment if I’d made an error in having him come over.
“Let’s go inside. I don’t want your neighbors hearing us.” His voice was low and masculine, with a hint of song in an accent that didn’t sound like it came from India. I asked him about it as we clambered up the steps and into my kitchen, and he explained that he had been raised in Jamaica.
In the muted light of the kitchen, I took control immediately.
“You sure you’re up for this?”
“Yeah” his gaze met mine directly. “I just need to use your bathroom.” He held up the small bag he’d carried from the car.
I directed him around the corner to the bathroom and turned on the light.
“You wanna watch?”
“No, thanks. You do what you’ve gotta, I’ll be in the bedroom.” I pointed down the hallway.
Raj had explained that he wanted to be taken, brutalized and violated by an “older white guy”, but that in order to accomplish this, he required injections of Chrystal Meth. As the scenario intrigued me, I agreed to his requests, confirming that I neither wanted to see him boot nor had any interest in joining him in the “party”. I sipped from a glass of tea and turned up the music on my computer as I heard him run water in the sink behind the bathroom door. Padding into the bedroom, I ripped open my board shorts with a tug and let them fall, throwing them on the chair near my armoire. Turning to the TV, I pushed the buttons on top turning it on, sound way down, and picked up the VCR remote laying on top. Thirty Men For Sandy snapped on and I went over to the bed, opening the nightstand cabinet to get the tub of Crisco inside.
I heard the bathroom door slide open (all interior doors in my apartment are pocket doors that slide into the wall) and saw Raj at the doorway, looking nervous. Without asking I assumed that his injection had gone as planned and told him in a firm tone to come over to me.
“Take off your shirt.”
He nodded absently and began pulling his shirt over his head.
“Wait!” His eyes scanned my face and settled on my eyes. “When I tell you to do something, say ‘Yessir’”
Apprehension mixed with a growing lust as he whispered “Yessir”.
Big as saucers, his liquid brown eyes, blinked once before stammering out “Yessir” with somewhat more robust enthusiasm.
As he laid his shirt on my bed, I pawed at his small chest, pulling at one of the burgundy-colored nipples with a twist of my finger and thumb. Turning him around, I loosened his belt from behind and pushed my left hand into the seat of his pants. His ass was round and firm and I felt wiry hairs spread across the cheeks.
“Very nice…show me your ass.”
Raj opened his shorts and let them fall in a puddle at his feet. He was wearing bright red briefs made of a shiny synthetic which he hooked with his thumbs and pulled down to his thighs with a sharp tug.
Spitting on my right hand, I probed between his cheeks with insistent fingers, breathing heavily. He yanked the briefs off and stepped out of the shorts, spreading his legs slightly, arching his back. With my left arm I grabbed his neck and pulled his head close.
“Kiss me.” I whispered into his right ear.
Raj twisted his head as far around as he could, kissing me this time with greater enthusiasm, mouth open.
“Get on the bed, face up”
Unsure of what I’d planned next, Raj climbed on the bed and rested his head against the pillows. His tiny dick stood out fiercely from an untrimmed black bush, his eyes scanned me from face to knees, pausing to study my hardon on the way back up. I grabbed his shoulders and spun him a quarter-turn around, leaving his head off the mattress. Grabbing my dick at the base, I guided the head into his mouth.
“Relax and breathe”
I got about half-way in when he started sputtering and gagging.
“I told you to relax. Trust me…”
He nodded as best as he could with my hands cupping his head, thumbs under his chin. Another attempt was met by lingering resistance, Raj still unable to swallow more than half of my hardon. I pondered for a second before reaching for the Crisco and slicking my dick with a couple of strokes.
“This should help you, but you gotta relax.”
“I’m not used to this angle.”
“It works best for deep throatfucking. You’ll see.”
The Crisco did the trick getting past Raj’s gag reflex, and at three-quarters in I fell over his torso, taking his modest dick into my mouth, feeling it throb at the back of my palate. As my right hand still had some lube left on it, I renewed my attack on his ass, finding his prostate, pushing up. With my left hand I directed his right hand to my chest, clamping my left nipple with his fingers inside my hand.
“Pull my tits, boy. Feel me throb.”
As he pulled on my nipples, a rush seized my body and without thinking, I thrust my dick down his throat to the root. He immediately began sputtering again, flailing his arms and pushing at my hips. I withdrew as he coughed and sat up.
“Yeah, but maybe we’ve done that enough for now.” Raj looked at me sheepishly.
“I wanna check out that ass anyway. Bring it over.”
He twisted around and kneeled doggy-style up on the bed. I slapped his butt hard, up with my palm, down with a backhand, watching him make a grimace in the mirrored closet doors.
“Hold your ass apart for me.” I directed his hands to his cheeks which he dutifully spread for my inspection. Unclear as to how clean he was, I avoided tasting his puckered hole and pressed two newly-lubed fingers into the breech, which swallowed them with ease. Taking his balls and hard dick in my left hand, I stroked gently as I fed him another finger, twisting in a clock-wise motion.
“Push back on my fingers.”
I felt his muscles clamp down hard, but no pressure to expel.
He understood my request better the second time, and I felt a slight pressure on my knuckles pushing them outward. I let my fingers withdraw about half-way before pushing in again with a determined force. Raj let out a low moan, shaking his head back and forth.
“Fuck me.” He hissed through clenched teeth. “Fuck me now.”
With a quick slap of shortening, I was lubed. Standing on the mattress, I directed my dick into his winking, ready twat. Leaving the head in for a moment, I assessed the snug fit and pushed half-way in, looking for his reaction in the mirror. Raj’s face was contorted in a mask of pleasure and anticipation. Pulling almost completely out, my second thrust dove straight into his hot guts, right to the balls.
With my left hand, I pushed his shoulders down until his forehead was touching the mattress about eighteen inches from the mirror. I reached my left foot around and pushed into his neck with the ball of my foot. Raj twisted his head away from me as I held his neck fast and began sawing his ass with deep strokes until his knees buckled and he fell into the mattress with a deep sigh.
I stepped off the bed onto the Tibetan carpet and yanked his hips down with me, pulling his legs off the mattress. I turned him on to his side, lifted his right leg and reentered him, lifting his hip and pressing myself between his open legs, bucking wildly. He yelped as some unspoken fury took over. I pounded relentlessly at his hole until he begged for some water.
“You agreed to rough.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t expecting it so fast.”
I looked down at his penis, head fierce and red poking from behind a thin membrane of foreskin.
“You’re enjoying it…look how hard you are.”
“You just took me by surprise…never said I didn’t like it.”
“The water’s in the fridge. Get two bottles.”
I’d already drunk a pot of tea earlier and was feeling racy and lightheaded. A momentary cloud of concern passed through my mind as I wondered if he was up for the challenges I had in store for him. Dismissing his reticence as residual shyness, I sat back on the bed and watched Sandy take on a room full of horny Italians.
Raj returned with the water and I took a bottle, urging him to lay next to me and pull on my tits as I watched the porn on the TV. We spent a moment with his arms around my neck, hands straining down my chest. Waves of electric shock tore through me as I jerked and convulsed with body orgasm, my dick throbbing and pulsing a steady drool of precum.
I quickly turned around and pulled his legs up to my shoulder, sinking my cock back up into his rectum. His dick was too small for me to reach with my mouth, so I spit on my hand and started jerking him as I fucked. Moments of this and his face twisted open, eyes gaping, as he shot a load all over his chest.
“What the fuck? You in a hurry?”
“I…I couldn’t help it.”
“I want to keep fucking you.”
“Go on…no big deal.”
“You sure? Most guys want to take a break after they cum.”
Raj reached up and twisted my nipples.
“Fuck me…fuck me hard.”
I leaned down and sucked at his face, nibbling at the lips before they opened and allowed my tongue to explore his mouth. Minutes passed before Raj’s expression changed from bliss to concern (again).
“I think I have to use the bathroom.”
A confused look passed over my face.
“Didn’t you douche?”
He bit his lower lip.
“No. I didn’t have time.”
I withdrew, and finding several brown clumps under the edge of my cockhead, frowned.
“Do you have something I can clean with?” He looked mortified.
“No, I don’t have anything…hmmm…” My mind’s cogs were spinning. Then an idea dawned on me.
I took Raj by the hand and led him into the bathroom. Flicking on the light, I saw his works laying on the small dish I keep my razor on, momentarily startled. I steered him into the showerstall and directed him to lean against the opposite wall. Spreading my legs slightly, I entered him again, instructing him to stay still and wait a moment. The tea and water worked their magic and within several minutes was washing out his large intestine with piss.
He reacted oddly at first, as I hadn’t warned him of my idea, and he didn’t understand what was flooding his insides until I told him. Nodding when I reminded him to stay still, my stream eventually died down to a trickle and I was prepared to exit.
“Hold it until you reach the toilet. I don’t want any accidents.”
I opened the sliding glass door nearest to the john and bid him make haste. When he cleared the door I turned the shower on and began soaping up, concentrating on my dick. I could hear him release the torrents of urine I’d just deposited and hoped that, although it wasn’t a full douching, it was perhaps sufficient to clean him out. It was.
Raj stayed at my place for almost twenty-three hours. He booted several more times in the bathroom, we went out midday for some fast food (I ate, he watched). I came three times and lost count of the times Raj did. I even dozed a bit without ever trusting him enough to actually fall deeply asleep.
In early August, toward the end of my Summer’s adventures, a friend of mine lent me her car while she visited relatives up north for a week. I took advantage of this windfall in transportation to do a large food shopping, spend a free day at the beach and expand my possibilities on Mancunt, as I generally always host. Not every interesting possibility is willing or able to travel.
I saw Dean’s profile almost immediately and was intrigued. In his late thirties, he presented as yet another shaved-headed musclegod, nicely accessorized with a variety of tattoos. I’d tasted frequently of the type in the preceding months and found them to be ravenous uberbottoms when on the prowl online. After a quick phone call and a moment in the shower, I was off, driving down Sunrise Boulevard in the direction of the beach.
Unlike South Beach, Ft Lauderdale has few architectural marvels. But rising proud amid a clutter of seedy Spring-break motels and renovated gay “resorts” a block from the beach is the Birch Tower, named in honor of an early beachfront resident. The Birch Tower is a masterpiece of mid-century moderne with sweeping ribbon windows, the entire structure cantilevered out from a ground story supported on reverse parabolic arches. It had been recently purchased by a developer who was in the process of converting it to condos when I pulled up at the guest parking at 1:30 on a steamy morning. Dean was waiting for me there, very complimentary when I stepped out of the car. A brief hug and he ushered me into the dismal lobby (the dingy marble no doubt now refreshed with a good cleaning and furnished with chrome and leather architect chairs), up the original elevator to one of the higher floors. Sweeping views were to be had from the open hallway connecting the elevator to Dean’s apartment, but I didn’t stop to linger.
As he opened the door, I noticed immediately that the apartment was a construction zone. Plastic tarps covered the small amount of furniture scattered here and there amid piles of marble tiles and buckets of compound and grout. He led me into a kitchen that was nearly finished, with glossy lacquered mahogany cabinets and a suite of brand-new European stainless appliances. Pulling a stainless saucepan from underneath somewhere, he filled it with water and lit the stove with a turn of a dial. Gas stoves are so unusual here in SoFla that I asked about it, Dean explaining that the building had its own supply of propane. Nodding mutely I withdrew several pillow bags of tea and placed them on the counter.
“Alls you want’s that tea?” He smiled a perplexed smile.
“Yeah, that’s all I need.” I glanced around. “When are you thinking the renovation’ll be finished?”
“Probably a few more months…unless we get a hurricane.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”
“Such a sweet man.” Dean pulled me into his enormous arms and gave me a big smooch, slapping my ass through my standard board shorts.
“Show me around?”
“Not much to see right now.” Dean directed me back toward the front door to a large living area. Waving his arms in the general area where we were standing: “The dining area’ll be here, seating over there near the windows.”
He pushed open the door to a rather small bedroom. “Study will be here”. We leaned into a darkened room filled with construction supplies.
“Master suite’s over here.” I followed Dean’s large frame through the eventual seating area and paused as he opened the door.
“It’s all a mess right now.”
I grinned. “That’s fine, my ex and I renovated several places. I’m used to it.”
Sitting in the center of a large room was a queen-sized mattress and box-spring heaped with pillows and messy with crumpled pale blue sheets. A small portable TV sat on a folding card table, VCR/DVD combo unit next to it. A Corbu chaise stood off near the windows, covered with a sheet of clear plastic. The scene out the windows was splendid, with unobstructed views of both the beach and Intracoastal Waterway.
“The windows are gonna be replaced by the developer.”
“That’s a shame. The horizontal accent is really nice from the street.”
“The new ones’ll look the same, but they’ll be impact resistant.”
“Oh, OK…usually new windows are so ugly.”
“Yeah, but this is a landmark building. Gotta keep the same look.”
I smiled. “I didn’t think Florida had landmark statutes.”
“Oh it’s not a law, It’s just that the developer has taste.”
Dean came over to me, giving me another burly bearhug. I reached around and groped his rock hard ass and vascular legs. He must live on steroids and protein shakes, I mused. I stood up on my toes and pulled his head down to my height. He spread his legs slightly and reached his two wide mitts up my thin tank, finding my tits and giving each a twist in opposite directions. I panted into his open mouth and pushed reluctantly on his hard pecs.
“Bet that water’s boiling.”
Dean nodded, looking into my eyes. It was too dark for me to discern the color of his.
Tracing back to the kitchen, I twisted the dial to the off position and threw the three bags into the pot, watching them slowly color the water as they sunk to the bottom. I looked up at him as Dean was heating the bottom of a glass pipe with a miniature blowtorch. He inhaled the white smoke as it snaked down the pipe’s length.
“Sure you don’t want some?”
I nodded, smiling.
“You don’t mind…?”
“Of course not. I told you on the phone that partybois are the only ones who can keep up with me.”
Our eyes met in a conspiratorial glance. I tried to see their color in the brighter light of the kitchen, but all I could see were big black pupils and waxy whites.
“Can I have a glass?”
Dean opened a cabinet and handed me a large green-glass goblet sitting on a short, wide stem. Thanking him, I filled it half-way with tea and pushed the dispenser on the door of the fridge, letting several ice wedges fall into my hand. Plopping them into the scalding liquid, they quickly turned it cool enough to sip without scorching my lips.
“Come over here, bud.” Dean was chomping at the bit. I sauntered over, putting down the glass and pulled at his clothes, top first, then nylon shorts. His physique was amazing, if slightly overripe and exaggerated. When I reached for his white jockstrap, however, he switched the focus to me, pulling my tank over my head and pushing the shorts down in what seemed like one quick maneuver. He revisited my nipples and in seconds my hardon was pulsing and drooling. Squatting low, he took a substantial portion in his mouth until I felt the back of his throat. Reaching down, I returned the favor he was performing on my tits.
Both standing up now, he directed me into the master suite, where we both tumbled into the bed. I climbed on top of him and fed each of my tits in turn to his open mouth, urging him to nurse. Reaching down his torso, I felt first his navel, stubbly with new hair growth from a recent shaving, then his groin, which showed no life whatsoever. Continuing my path down, I paused for a moment on his perineum before exploring his hole.
Although he shaved his belly, he either waxed his anus or it was naturally hairless, I couldn’t tell which. Poking around some, I found his hole open and ready, dripping with lube.
“You started without me?”
“Just loosened up with a toy. You said you prefer ‘em not too tight.”
“I’m not complaining.” Three fingers slid into his fundament with no difficulty, nor any extra lube. “Impressive.”
I dove down between his enormous thighs and pushed them up until they rested on my diaphragm. I spit on my hand and wet the shaft of my dick with the saliva before pushing it in. I met no obstacles until I was deep to the root, my balls resting against his asscheeks. Dean reached out his hands and gripped on both tits, pulling and twisting with a masterful touch. I flooded his ass with strings of precum drooling from my throbbing cockhead as I began fucking in earnest. Meeting me thrust for thrust, Dean was obviously enjoying himself as much as I was, but still nothing stirred under the cotton folds of his jock.
We took frequent breaks, with me consuming glass after glass of tea (on top of what I’d drunk before leaving my apartment). Dean was a total pigbottom, taking dildos and cock up his ass together like a pornstar, his big beefy hands rarely leaving my tits. Edging was a difficult feat with so much stimulation, but I was determined to make it last all night, if possible. Whenever I got too close I’d stay still or come in close for a round of facesucking.
Eventually I felt the urgent need to piss.
“Where do you want it?”
“Up my ass, of course.”
“No…I meant where as in on the bed or in the shower?”
“Right here’s great.”
“Let it go baby.”
Unable to hold back a second longer, I broke out in a grunt and let the piss fly up his ass.
Dean’s expression changed from surprise to expectation to satisfaction back to surprise as the volleys continued over sixty seconds. I bit my upper lip, scraping it with my bottom teeth, moaning softly.
“It’s still coming?”
“I told you, I hold back until it’s an absolute emergency.” It was beginning to taper off and I resumed fucking in long strokes, almost withdrawing completely before sinking back down.
“Feels fucking awesome, bud.”
I nodded. “Same for me…just incredible.”
I leaned back into his face and we fell into a deep kiss. As I was so much smaller than he, I was obliged to twist his pelvis as far up as I could to accomplish this. Gripping hard on my tits, I changed my approach somewhat and withdrew completely before repenetrating his hole. I’d sink to the root before withdrawing for a second and entering his slack gash, no hand required. This was driving him nuts, his head rocking from side to side in ecstatic delight. We continued this way for what seemed like a quarter hour, each reentry causing a growl to come from Dean’s mouth.
As I slowed down, I let his hip pivot back onto the bed, causing him to moan loudly. His ass opened up and a fountain of still-hot piss gushed all over me, from navel to knees.
To be continued…