Deep Inside Mancunt, or Titpig's Adventures in Barebacking, Part 9: Two-For-One
Perhaps the most singular encounter I had during the Summer of 2006 (and probably of my entire life) happened in mid-June of that year.
It started off simply enough. I had been casually pursuing a guy with a French screenname for some time, but never got much of a reply until one afternoon he happened to finally respond, leading me to unlock the photos showing not just a hardon but my face, besides. He followed suit.
His public pictures featured a quite fetching youngish man (between 28 and 35, more or less) of medium complexion, a pleasant demeanor suggesting a handsome visage and physique of certain muscular bearing; firm without being especially overworked. Given his previous coolness toward my overtures, I was both surprised and slightly flattered when he at last deigned to respond to my notes and unlocked his private pix, which while attractive, gave me no greater indication of what, precisely he looked like in the all together: all disembodied parts and pieces, and a penis pic was conspicuously absent. On Mancunt, that inevitably suggests equipment of modest dimensions.
Given that he’d chosen an unequivocally Gallic screenname, my initial greetings were in assertive French. He responded first in kind, then switched over to English, explaining that he was, in fact, Peruvian: not French at all. I neither asked for an explanation as to his odd choice of screenname, nor did he offer any. But his responses were fast and furious and desirous immediate contact. We quickly covered all the bases: Poz, yes; Bottom, most assuredly; and with a small uncircumcised penis to boot.
He arrived at my door looking perhaps thirty pounds heavier than the pix, but overall seemed pretty much as promised. My loyal readers know by now that I’m a sucker for a cute face, and an open ass. The added weight added much to his desirably “child-bearing hips” and offered no impediment to my desire. Moments into our encounter my fingering turned into knuckling then deeper yet. His ass seemed to be inhaling my hand, which I didn't mind at all but hadn't expected based on our on-line banter.
Turning around, he asked if I'd fist him, to which I replied that there's no better way of preparing a nice, sloppy open hole for fucking. He jumped off the bed, kissed me, and quickly threw his clothes back on, saying he'd be right back. Following him out to the kitchen, I looked confusedly into his big brown eyes.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve gotta run home, but I’ll be right back. I wasn’t expecting this to turn out like this.” His face was open and gleeful:. “What else d’you like?”
I thought for just a second. “Bring some toys…big toys.”
“I got lotsov ‘em. I’ll be right back!”
He bounded out the door, practically running through the garden and out to the car he’d arrived in. Before I could respond, he was gone.
I stood in my doorway naked, my right hand and forearm slathered in Crisco. The only remnant of my hardon was a thick, viscous stream of precum drooling from my dick and collecting in a puddle on top of my right knee down to my foot. Shaking my head, I turned back into the kitchen, made my way to the bathroom and ran a tepid shower. As I lathered up, I made a deal with myself: give him 30 minutes to come back before signing back on Mancunt.
He returned just as I was toweling off, carrying a large gymbag over one shoulder, which he tossed on my bed before excusing himself and retreating to my bathroom for about 20 minutes, turning on the shower at one point.
I wrote his odd behavior off to Tina, and sat on my bed, stroking absent-mindedly to some straight porn I had playing on the VCR, sipping some tea from a glass on my nightstand. Glancing at the bag leaning against my footboard, I opened it up, curious as to what he'd brought. There was an enormous black dildo, maybe twenty inches long and as big as my wrist, among several slightly smaller ones, and several battered old videocassettes. I popped one into the VCR and discovered it was a bad copy of very ordinary gay porn, circa 1993, all condoms and fluffy-haired boys having bored, vanilla sex, complete with the sort of atrocious soundtrack favored for such productions. Hitting reject, I pushed in another: it was a bestiality tape featuring a slim Mexican girl and a rather skittish horse. This one held even less promise that the first.
I went to my collection and plopped in an old Rocco Siffredi gangbang tape that I knew by heart but still preferred to what he'd brought.
He emerged from the bathroom wiping a towel across his broad back, which he spread on the sheets of my bed before climbing up on the mattress, knees down, ass up, doggy style. Three good pushes and my right hand completely penetrated his anus without his seeming to have felt a thing. Greasing my forearm up with additional Crisco, I pushed in further and he squirmed a bit, but still said nothing. A bottle of poppers under his nose, he pushed back onto my arm and it slid half-way to the elbow. He was, without a doubt, the most nonchalant fistbottom I’d even encountered.
Then he pulled his torso forward so that just my hand was left in and asked me to push up.
This confused me…I've been in enough asses to know that, from that position, there is no "up": there's only in and, maybe down toward the prostate. I was unclear as to what he wanted me to do. Sighing slightly, he told me to wait, and pulled his ass off my arm altogether. Flipping onto his back, he lifted his legs high and told me to try again, inhaling from the poppers, only this time to push down.
As "down" was only in the direction of his tailbone, I was genuinely perplexed but did as he’d bidden. About six inches in, I felt a flap of skin, just a slight fold, and he broke into a grin. Inhaling deeply, he nodded his approval at my having located whatever it was he’d been wanting me to find.
“You’ve found it,” he intoned in a voice heavy with emotion and lush with pleasure. “That’s the other hole. Open it up.”
It was gummy and gooey and tighter than his rectum, which was open wider than my closed hand. Gobs of Crisco oozed over my arm as I pushed one finger at a time until all four had found this odd, secret place. This excited him hugely. He wriggled and pushed until my entire hand was deep into this “other hole”, a place I’ve never even heard of before, let alone explored.
Clambering onto the bed, I eased myself on top of him and grabbed another towel I had nearby, telling him to wipe his hand clean before touching my tits. With my left hand still in his rectum, I guided my dick into his greasy “other” hole.
"Fuck the other hole" he told me, his voice suddenly flat and hushed in tone. I withdrew my left hand and grabbed the metal rails on the top of my headboard, pushing in as far as I could. He twisted his lower back up to meet my thrusts and off we went.
The harder I grabbed on to my metal headboard, the more I pushed his head up to it, until the back of his skull was rapping in a rhythmic clang against the metal. Imploring me to fuck him harder, he lifted his head so that it was twisted up, half on one of my feather-down pillows, half on the steel vertical spokes of the headboard. With my right hand I slapped his chest in a swinging palm/backhanded motion, and he responded by pulling even harder on my tits. I leaned in to kiss his open mouth, then pulled back and struck him hard across the face.
The harder I slapped, the greater in pleasure seemed to increase. I alternated deep, soulful kisses with backhands against his cheekbones. His “other hole” gripped the outer third of my dick, being the only part that could penetrate so deeply into the “other hole”. I toyed and played with it, alternating hand and dick and several of the toys he’d brought, pulling out into his yawning rectum before driving home, again and again. That secret place unleashed something from some hidden primal place of my own, a place up until then I’d never explored with such ferocity.
After untold time, I yanked his hips up to my pelvis and pushed and pushed until I reached the point of no return, seeding his “other hole” with a frenzy of screams and bellowing curses, backhanding him one more time before latching on to his mouth, pulling air from his lungs and chewing on his full lips. Twitching and bucking, my orgasm continued for minutes on end before a low groan formed in my lungs. I pushed my way as far into him one last time, as I could manage.
I have no memory how we returned to reason or of his leaving, or what we might have discussed as he packed his gymbag and got dressed. But I distinctly remember the fact that my entire bed, metal bedframe, my sheets and pillows and the several towels strewn about were caked in molten wet goo of Crisco and sweat and cum and something I’d rather not contemplate. At a certain point I must have showered, or at least toweled off, because I almost immediately got Matty on IM, though it was very late for him in the wee hours of the Australian morning:
Bucko The Depraved: BTW- odd bit just happened
BtD: I wanted to ask you...
Matty The Damned:: honours you for dealing with it in this manner
BtD: It's all natural...
MtD: I had to . . . . well you read the email
BtD: Very understandable
BtD: That's fine
BtD: part four's in progress
BtD: Anyways, something just happened
BtD: I had a very provocative encounter
BtD: Sweet guy from Peru
BtD: Kinda big through the hips, but you know...
BtD: Really cute
BtD: But he seemed to have two holes inside
MtD: honey I'm running out of smileys here
BtD:: It was really weird
MtD: 2 holes?
BtD: He directed me "down, over, find the other hole"
BtD: I was up to my wrist
MtD: and it wasn't a woman?
BtD: real live guy
MtD: oh god no
MtD: you had a
MtD: fistula lover
MtD: you know what that is?
BtD: I wish I did
BtD: Should I be worried?
MtD: not really
MtD: a fistula
MtD: is an opening from one structure to another
MtD: most commonly found in women
BtD: That's kinda what it felt like
MtD: from the vag to the poo tube
MtD: men have it too
MtD: it's a bad thing
BtD: It was exceptionally odd
MtD: for the owner of said fistula
MtD: and can be corrected surgically
BtD: I wonder where it led?
BtD: Wherever, it got a heavy load
MtD: usually in men it leads from one part of the bowel to another
BtD: It was kinda like a shortcut
MtD: or, rarely into the bladder
BtD: I had to open it with my hand
BtD: then he wanted me to fuck it
MtD: it's weird and gross and should be corrected by surgery
BtD: definitely not the run-of-the-mill ass
MtD: you were playing straight into that queen’s digestive system
MtD: a high fist is one thing
MtD: but knowing the pancreatic process is just strange
BtD: This was inside, starting at about the length of the back of my hand
BtD: about 5-6 inches
BtD: hot fuck, whatever it was
MtD: there are openings where your pagan deity did not intend them to be
MtD: and weird stuff going
MtD: I'm sorry but a queen has only so many holes
BtD: That's why I wanted to ask you
MtD: Smart, wise crone that you be
MtD: you've encountered a fistula
MtD: which inevitably results in peritonitis and blood poisoning.
MtD: for the bloke with two bum-holes
BtD: I was intrigued
MtD: may her surgeon be skilled.
BtD: Prolly should have not proceeded
BtD: But it was oddly
MtD: oh it is
BtD: Kinda "medical" though
MtD: anatomical comes to mind
MtD: look babe
BtD: As long as I didn't fuck an alien
BtD: : -0
MtD: just a side show freak
MtD: but it's all Appalachian (I mean good)
MtD: honey, MtD has to sleep
BtD: I know
BtD: It's so late for you
BtD: Sleep well, sweetheart
MtD: poor Bucko
MtD: nighty night
BtD: I'm fine
MtD: I love you
BtD: I love you most
MtD has signed out. (6/19/2006)