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Slave Whore

Once about every year I get a phone call from some men I know. I'd say where, but I really don't know. They'll call me up and ask if I'm available for the next couple of months. Of course, I am. That couple of months pays for the rest of the year. They send me the tickets and away I go. I'm not always there for the full two months. Sometimes they'll just fly me in for a party and fly me back home in a couple of days. Those can be a real trip for sure. A few times I just hung out with them at some place in the desert by a pool. They'd fuck me. But it was all pretty garden variety. Garden variety for me anyway. Other times... even I was like, "What the fuck?" They were into it all, but I never knew what their mood was until I got there. They knew my whole story too, so they could, depending on their mood, make it a mind-blowing 3 day sex orgy or really make it all hell for me. Either way, they knew I was up for it. You can't fake being a slave whore. The only real way to do it is for it to be the kind of shit you get into anyway. If you're not really into being a slave whore, I wouldn't recommend it as a career path for you.
The tickets were for San Francisco. I flew in about 5 at night. The lights were just starting to flicker on as I was looking out the window.
I met Jim at the curb with my bag. He had that big, ass-eating, mustache grin on his face. It was good to see him and we hugged our hellos. I loved his big hairy smell. We took off down the road. Who knows where he took me. I don't know it well enough to have a clue where I was.
"What kind of twisted agenda do you have for me this time," I asked.
There's that fucking grin again. This time with a bit of a low chuckle. He was giving me a chub. We pulled up in front of this huge Victorian mansion. It sat in the middle of a row of houses all painted pink and purple and then right in the middle of all that sits this gargantuan black house. I don''t mean black with white trim with purple highlights. This house is painted sold black from the door knobs to the windows. The little fucking lawn that they had in front of it was painted black. Hmmm. Isn't that odd? I would have figured that the neighbors wouldn't like that shit one bit. They must be invited to what ever twisted event is going on here tonight.
The front door opens and it's Frank. His bald head reflecting some of the last of the sun going down. He had a smile too, but not like Jim's. His was more menacing. Like he had been kept waiting. Frank didn't like to be kept waiting.
"Come on boy, I don't have all fuckin' day. You got to be hosed out. Now quit your fuckin' around and get in here."
I hopped to and did as I was told. I knew well enough this wasn't going to be one of those, 'picnics by the pool' kind of a visit. So when I got inside the door, I dropped my bag and then stripped down. My clothes and shoes went into the bag and I handed it to Frank.
"Good boy," he said.
He inspected me. Looked in my nose and ears. Opened my mouth with his thick fingers. I could smell some other boys ass on them. He turned me around and bend me over.
"Spread your legs," he instructed.
He held my asshole open wide.
"It will do, but it's going to have to be shaved and hosed out. And I'm gonna shave your head too while I'm at it."
"Up the stairs boy."
I went upstairs and saw what looked like a big warehouse. In the middle was a tub with a contraption that looked like ropes and pulleys. I couldn't really figure it all out. There was scaffolding and build up platforms in different configurations around the center.
It almost looked like a puppet show without the puppet. I was pretty sure that I was the puppet.
Frank started strapping me in. They were like long sleeves without the shirt part and long pants without the crotch part made of leather with O rings attached to them every 4 inches or so. They fit my tall, humpy bod well and my big buddy started to swell as Frank pulled and tugged at me as he fit me into his contraption. He hooked all the rings to their own thin, strong nylon cord. It looked complicated, but I was surprised how exposed I was. Standing naked in the middle of a warehouse, strapped up to this rope restraining/control devise, next to a big claw bathtub. Frank walked behind me. All at once I was off the ground and my legs were being spread open wide. My knees were being pulled back towards my shoulders and my arms out to my side and up a ways. All this at about a 45 degree angle. Being held n that position, I was suddenly tilted backwards. And there was Frank's big head staring at me upside down. Now he had the ass-eating grin and he said, "I guess we have you sufficiently trussed up!"
I then went back to the last position I was in with my head up. It was comfortable really. And the air on my hole was starting to tickle a bit. Thwack! "All right then. Lets get you properly cleaned out," he said as he slapped my ass hard with his big hand. He pulled a rope and I swung over the tub. Another pull and I raised higher in the air. Frank was sniffing my hole. I could feel his breath. He got a little closer and I felt his big mustache brush against my widening hole. Then I was back down. Frank was standing right outside the tub with a spray nozzle. He wet down my ass and cock with warm water. My nuts started to relax and hang lower. He worked my crotch muscles with his hands as he continued to rinse me down. He shook up the shaving cream and spread it on my heavy nuts and ass crack. The shaving cream had some kind of menthol in it and my skin felt on fire, but good. He shaved me smooth. He left a bush, but still trimmed it back close. Then my nuts got slowly pulled out and shaved. Down through my taint and on to my hole, which was really burning now. It felt like it was glowing red. I felt the water from the hose start to rinse everything off. Smooth as glass. I felt the nozzle start to press against my hole. As I relaxed I felt the warm water start to spread into my rectum, forcing it gently apart. Then up into my guts it glided along.
It stopped.
"Hold that here," Frank said.
I felt like I needed to let it go, but I didn't want to disappoint Frank.
"OK, Go!"
I gushed out a bucket of shit and shit water. It came pouring out of me like Niagara. It was a bit embarrassing. But soon with repeated flushing, I was running clean as a whistle. Frank finished cleaning me up by soaping up my crotch area and rinsing me down again. He finished by rubbing me down with oil. He paid special attention to my hole, greasing it all up inside and out. His thick fingers pressed deep inside me, holding open my hole to let all the water run out.
"You stay put and drain good." My man pussy kept dripping water for a while. Eventually, Frank came back and dried me off good.
"Ok, boy, you've seen enough for now."
And with that I was blind folded. I was comfortable in my positioning and I easily fell asleep with my dirty hole cleaned out, my cunt properly greased, my world, pitch black.
I woke to the sounds of furniture or something being moved in to the warehouse. Soon it was clear that there was a whole crew delivering, assembling and noisily setting up the room. There were power tools and hammering. Every once in a while I could make out some comment about the hunky guy strapped up naked in the middle of the room. Once I felt someone lightly touch my stomach, but someone pulled him back. It had turned me on being on display like that and I could feel that my meat had gotten fat and hard. The pre cum started to drip out of the slit and pool on my belly. They seemed to be there about 2 hours, but I couldn't be sure. I fell asleep again.
I woke this time to the sounds of music. It started low at first, but then started to increase in volume. It was early evening club music. Soon I started to hear the sounds of the party around me. Men talking above the music and boots clomping across the floor, bottles of beer being opened and the bottle caps hitting the trash cans. Low masculine laughter and the loud clash of beer bottles breaking as they were casually tossed into bins. I could hear old friends meeting for the first time and with my hearing sense heightened, I even thought I could hear the slapping together of large naked bear chests.
The night went on and more often I felt as if I was the center of attention of some small group of men. A comment about the trussed up boy in the middle room, an occasional pinch of my nipple, a gentle grope of my ass, cock or balls. Over the next several hours, the party started to get a little more well lubricated and there was less pretense. My cock started to be pulled on hard as I heard a heavy set of boots clomp on by or my nuts slapped... I started to feel the cold mouth of a long-neck on my hole or a slippery, thick middle finger slip in to the middle knuckle. But it was still just a big party of men getting drunk. I could smell different kinds of smoke wafting around, sometime a big mustached mouth would blow a hit of whatever they were smoking into my lungs, and I had a good 6 or 7 beers poured down into me too. I was feeling very relaxed now when the candy started getting put under my nose and my mouth and one nostril were held shut. If I wasn't horny by now, I was really about to be up for anything soon.

To be continued

Deliberate Indifference

The loading docks, the factories, the garages, the truck stops, and all the other industrial, blue collar places are Garg's favorites to apply his influence over me. It's the highway work crew man with his shirt off standing by the side of the road adjusting his dick in his pants that grabs me and pumps up my testosterone for the rest of the week. It doesn't have to be anything really meant to be sexual. In fact it's the deliberate indifference to what they are doing that usually turns me on the most. Like walking up to a urinal at a secluded rest stop finding some hairy trucker dad hanging his fat cock out, pumping a gusher of piss like it was coming out of a garden hose. Finishing up, he flings his meat around with abandon, flicking the last drops around the room and all over the place not giving it a second thought. That is until he sees me gazing in wonder at his cock with my mouth hanging open.
"You see something here you like?" he asks. as if I could deny it. I look away quickly, but it's too late for that. I'm either going to get a punch in the mouth or a cock down my throat. Garg is probably the only one who knows. he usually doesn't steer me wrong. I look back to find a stiffening, fat rod waving at me.
I get a sly smile and I know what my job is now. He points down at his dick with his other hand and tells me to drop to my knees and get on it. There's no stuffing my cock back into my pants at this point, so I leave it sticking out and drop to my knees. The floor is dirty and it smells like old piss and cleaning supplies until I get my face close to his crotch. The crotch smell of a 48 hour round trip without a shower envelopes me and I take in deep whiff. he unbuckles his pants so I can get at his heavy nuts too. They hang out over his pants, full with cum. I lick them and suck them into my mouth as he sighs his approval. I look up at him and show my devotion with my mouth full of fat nuts. I tongue my up to his swollen dick head and start slicking his rod down with my spit so when I plunge it down for the first time it goes all the way. I sword swallow his fat prick down to the root and he throws his head back with a moan. I hold it there for a minute or so working my throat muscles, swallowing over and over giving his meat an up and down throat massage that he'll never forget. The whole time, I'm looking up into his amazed and grateful eyes. I pull back all the way to the head and tongue his piss hole good and deep, then plunge all the way back down my throat. I can feel his meat expand and contract in the back of my throat as he flexes his rod for me. he's proud of his man meat, as he should be. The pace of my sucking starts to pick up and my spit is starting to run down my chin and drip onto the filthy floor in a puddle. I can hear it fall with periodic slapping sounds in between the wet sucking and gurgling and moaning sounds of a full on cock swallowing. He starts to grab the back of my head and I know it wont be long now. I give over the control to him as he fucks my mouth and throat like a hot Mellon. I start to taste his pre cum mixing with my spit and I open up all the way for his thrusts. He throws his head back and buries the whole length of his swollen prick down my throat and holds it there a couple of seconds. then I feel his muscular cock starts to pump in rhythm as his nuts rise up under my chin. He pumps a good 6 or 7 hot packets of liquid man down into my gullet and then backs up to cover my face and mouth with the last of his load. Just like he flung his cock around with abandon after taking a piss, he swings his relaxing meat around, slapping my face and tongue as the last of his load rolls out of his dick.
He smiles big and tells me what a good cocksucker I am as he stuffs his package back into his pants and walks out the door. I'm left kneeling on the dirty floor with a puddle of spit in front of me and a freshly deposited cream pie on my face. I collect up the jizz on my face and pump off my own load to add to the collection of who knows how many cum loads dropped on that floor. I drive home with dirty knees and the smell of hot sweaty cock circulating in my nostrils and sticky cum covering my face.

Fire Watch

During basic training we were billeted in very old buildings. They dated back to WWII. If they caught fire they would be down to the ground in 8 minutes. So, all during the night there was a soldier who would walk around the outside and inside of the building to warn the others if a fire should start. That night I has it at 4 am, which really sucked, because once you are done it was less than am hour before having to get up anyway. It was so quiet that night. Full moon played tricks on my eyes. Sometimes the shadows looked like a 4 am hard-on growing under the thin sheets. The stiffest, hardest bone of the night. The rod that gets so hard it hurts. I’d seen plenty of them. But this one was different. It was hot and many of the sheets were covering little but skivvies and a thigh. As I looked through the lockers I saw the bunk silhouetted by the window. This guy had a major 4am bone. Standing straight up at attention. His sheet had been kicked down around his feet. He was very lowly moaning and starting to spread his legs. His hands went above his head like they were being held there by another man. He was having a major spread your ass hole and take it up the man pussy wet dream. He started to hold his knees to spread out his hole hard. I knew he would blow any minute. I carefully slipped into the shadow and helped myself to good hot few licks of that hot hole. In seconds he started to blow thick white jets of jizzm all over his chest and face. He was a fucking stud. He kept on spurting for a bout 30 seconds. I was amazed how silent he was. Good soldier. I quickly backed away out of sight. I could hear his breathing and I could smell the heavy odor of cum in the air. It was thick. I tasted his ass on my tongue. It seemed as though he never woke up at all. I spent my extra time after being relieved, relieving myself in the latrine. Didn’t get a drop on my uniform.

Held Back

I remember this kid in 5th grade math class. He must have been held back. He seemed way older than the rest of us. He fascinated me. I used to watch him discreatly. He knew it. He would would jack off right in class using his leather jacket to hide it from the rest of the class. That takes balls. It turned me on even though I didn’t really even know what he was doing. A couple of times he would pull his johnson out and draw smiley faces on it and show it to me.

Man Smells

About 50 years ago, the advertising agency was born. One of the first things they did was to tell us all that we stunk. Further more, we all needed to use their soap or their shampoo or their god-forsaken under-arm deodorant. Look, even a shower a day was unheard of 50 years ago. Not to be down on the shower, or cleanliness for that matter. But those smells are there for a reason. Don’t scrub away all the good stuff. Under no circumstance should any man ever wear perfume. It’s one of the reasons gay men ran the fuck away from women in the first place. It’s like a pinky ring on a man. If you’ve never had an arm-pit-job, it’s probably because you wear deodorant. Licking aluminum powder or what ever else is in that shit is not only unpleasant, it’s nasty and it coats your tongue. Try just showering one morning and then at the end of the day waft that baby in the direction of your fellow ‘mo. He’ll pick right up on it. It’s written in his DNA. It’s what makes him a fag. It’s a computer program. Anyway, be sure and get yourself a good arm-pit-job, sans-deodorant someday. This is something a cock sucker might be good at.

Compass

The penis is not simply a piece of meat to be stuffed away and hidden from the world. It is the beautiful engorged flower of manhood. It’s designed to point proudly and decisively at the object of it’s affection.

Cock proud.

No man ever had his cock slip out of his shorts without knowing it.
If you see a man with a nut out in the breeze, it’s there for you to see.
Give him the pleasure of silently letting him know how much you appreciate seeing his dangling participle in the
noonday sun.

Don't Ask

Don’t join the military for the wrong reason. If you want to serve your country in that way, then do it. No regulation they write or law they pass can stop you if you really want to serve. Don’t join the military for the hot guys. But don’t kid yourself, there are boat loads of them. And it will make it harder to serve without being discovered. All in all, straight people are pretty easy to fool if you are motivated to do so. God knows most of us become experts at that pretty early. Maybe that’s why we make such good actors. You’ll need to be vigilant. Your life will depend on it. The first whiff of a faggot in the barracks puts you in danger, Don’t let yourself be the fag who gets his brains splattered on the wall while asleep in the barracks. All they have to say is that you came on to them and they get off (not in a good way). It’s like service women who get raped... they get no help because it is permissible to rape women in the military. They ask for it by being there, but you wont find it in the regulations. There is a whole system in place to make sure no man ever gets prosecuted for rapping a woman or killing a fag. If you want to be a gay soldier (marine, etc.), then understand that you are on the front lines weather you are at war or not. You can serve your country if you want to... just don’t expect the military to ever stand behind you. I don’t care if you just captured Osama Bin Laden single handedly, if they find out you are a fag, you are done, at the least, dead at the worst.

Who's Garg?

Every man has a hairy man. Robert Bly wrote of the hairy man in his book “Iron John.” Soon after reading this book I was visited by my hairy man in a dream. I was inspecting 18 wheelers in a truck yard. I went into one of the buildings to have a cup of coffee and he suddenly appeared. His body was very large, in a pair of bib overalls with a thick hairy chest and a huge package, but it was clear that he could morph himself into anything that he wanted, with or without hair. With each breath he took, his entire body would enlarge and contract. His head was at first very large and then much too small for his body. Sometimes with a big head of hair, other times bald. The one real constant was his huge crooked tooth smile. A knowing smile that was at once frightening and comforting. Comforting because my hairy man is no stranger. He is very much who I am without all the rediculous notions of masculinity placed on men by this sexually (and otherwise) repressive society. All at once, with that same shit eating grin, he unzipped his pants and a giant penis came telescoping out at me. I was pushed down and completely immobilized by his cock on my chest which had pressed me down on the couch. He had my attention now. He told me that he was surprized to see me without a cock in my mouth, and proceeded to stuff his down my throat. He laughed and bellowed the whole time. He told me that I should always be ready to suck a fat cock, and that my mouth should always be ready to swallow him.

It may seem from some of my writing that I believe all men are gay. i do not believe that, but I do believe that if you take away societal pressure that all men will experiment with other men. Same goes for women. Your hairy man is the man inside you that has no ties to society. He doesn’t care what your mother may think, or your neighbor, or your wife or husband. He doesn’t care how your sexual adventures will affect your career or your future, or your religious life. He’s just the man inside all men who does who and what he wants to, when he wants to. sometimes he is you, sometimes he is the person you have hooked up with. sometimes he’s the hot construction worker that you drive by on a summer day and then think about the rest of the week, sometimes he’s the dildo up your ass, other times he’s the crabs crawling around on your nut sack. No matter what form he’s taking... he’s enjoying himself. You might as well too. Travel along with Garg... my Hairy Man, and I. Sometimes he’ll get me in trouble. Sometimes he’ll just spout something off from his soapbox. But all and all, he’s a lot of fun to have at a party.

Cocksucker

Cocksucker. You want to do what? You want to put your mouth on my Chet Huntley? Go ahead fucker. I don’t think that a faggot can get me hard. No fair starting on my nuts man. You look like you’ve had a big hairy set of nuts stuffed in your mouth before faggot. I guess a pussy-boy cock sucker can get my meat to stand up. What you gonna do now cock sucker? Now you got me hard. Try putting that mother fucker in your drooling mouth. Look at that. The whole fucking hard one straight down your faggot throat. MMM man you fucking swallow that Big Johnson. Swallow my man meat you fucking cunt mouthed, cock sucking faggot. Yeah man, nice slick slobbery-faced blow-job fucker. Yeah fucker, rub that slick hard prick all over that face. Yeah, mmm. Kiss it cock sucker. Give it a few little faggot kisses on the jizzm slit. You taste that juice dripping out? That’s what my hairy nuts are churning up for you. You like that? Tell me you like that with my cock down your throat. “gmmbmbmbmmbm dhsdhfnf fjghgmgngugngngu jshudgtrh.” OK you filthy cock sucking faggot. Here it is man. I’m going to blow all over you and all in you. Open that fucking pussy mouth. Ahh, ahhhhh ahhhhh mmmmmmm haaa haaa...
SPLURT
SPLURT
SPLURT
SPLURT
SPL
SPLU
S

Ghost Take-Over

Garg has a way of sensing the spirit world. Spirits are all around us, and if there's anything they're mad about, it's that they miss the mashing together of flesh. When ever they get the chance they can and do inhabit our bodies and take us for a sex romp that we may never have been expecting.
the laundry room in my apartment building is a dank, humid room at the end of a long hall in the basement. Most of the time it is lit mostly by the red exit sign and a few dim bulbs that flicker like old oil lanterns from the past. Several times while in the elevator, I've heard tenants talking about their fear of going down there. They would see shadowy figures pass by the door in the hallway and hear strange moaning and bumping sounds. I had heard them too, but it sounded to me like the muffled noises of neighbors having sex. I never felt threatened by the laundry room. I looked forward to the humidity and warmth which would cause my crotch to heat up and start to expend in my pants. The poor lighting and obscured corners and alcoves always made me think what a great place it would be to have anonymous sex. Washing machines going through their cycles with thuds and whirring sounds would obscure the banging, slapping and slurping sounds of lubed flesh pushing into wet, gaping holes.
Most of the time, other tenants would avoid the basement entirely and opt for the laundry down the street. It was rare that I saw others while I sat quietly waiting for my load to wash and then dry. sometimes I would spend all afternoon doing my laundry with nobody but Garg and other horned-up spirits that stayed down there for company.
It was a Tuesday afternoon and I was taking a mental health day from work. The cold rain outside kept people from running about in the building and it was quiet except for the the constant flowing of water against window panes and down drainage spouts.
I had been in the laundry room through 2 of about 6 loads. It was laundry day, so I only had a pair of gym shorts and a wife-beater to wear. It was always too warm to wear anything else there anyway. The humidity and Garg running through my mind had given me my usual locker room hard-on... full hangage, spongy and full, but not hard. If I sat on the plastic chair with my legs spread, it couldn't be hidden. My cock always looked the best when it was in this state.
The washer and dryers were making their sex sounds and the lights flickered causing shadowy spirits to swirl around even if only in my head. My spirit-like haze was cleared abruptly when I heard the elevator door open down the hall. I could hear whoever it was pulling their laundry bag down the hall. It sounded like they could have been dragging a body the way they pulled and stopped, adjusting their grip and then starting up again.
Garg was getting excited at the prospect of who might be joining in on the afternoon laundry room fun and I had to adjust myself in my chair to hide my package from view. In walked a tenant I had pet-named Daddy Six-pack. Not because of perfect wash-board abs, but because I always saw him carrying a six pack of beer into the building. He was a big man with a beard and a natural balding head. His beer drinking had given him a nice belly... not a huge thing that you couldn't get by, just a nice manly roll that I often thought I would like to bounce my forehead against if I ever got a chance to suck his dick.
He came in dragging his laundry behind him in one hand and carrying a six-pack in the other. He was wearing a pair of cut-off sweat pants and an old white tee shirt. He looked at me and glanced down at himself.
"Laundry day," he said implying that this was all he had left to wear.
"Same here man," I said with a similar glance down at myself.
"All I had left," and I left it at that. I didn't want to seem too excited to see him.
Amongst the sound of the machines and the humid air I got a whiff of some really strong manly smells coming off of him. He filled a couple of washers, put in his coins and sat down in a chair next to me leaving on empty between us for his six pack of beer.
"You want a beer man?" he asked me.
I accepted. and we clanked bottles and swigged down a mouthful. My first loads of laundry thudded to an abrupt stop. As I got up I dropped a quarter, and it landed right between his feet. I reached down to pick it up and he reached for it at the same time. When our hands touched, it was the spark that allowed the circling spirits the chance they were waiting for. Until there's some kind of contact they can't do anything but observe and maybe make some noise and cast some shadows. But that spark that you feel sometimes is the energy that allows the spirits to flow into our flesh and take over our bodies. Granted, there has to be some kind of willingness to begin with, but if it's there and they see their chance they take it.
My eyes first fixed on his bulging crotch and then moved up to his eyes. I stopped being myself at this point, and I could tell that he was someone else suddenly too. He grabbed my head and plunged his thick tongue in my mouth. I could feel it stuffing into my mouth like a soft, fat cock. He stood up and we tongue fucked each others mouth with spit and slobber spreading around out faces. His facial hair was rubbing around on my face and I could feel his cock straining against his sweats pushing against my now rock hard prick sticking out from the leg of my gym shorts. All at once he spun me around, pulled down my shorts and bent me over a hot, vibrating washing machine. he crouched down behind me and spread my hole open wide with his thick meat hooks. His wet, coarse beard started rubbing against my ass hole and his tongue started slurping and sucking my tight hole. Even though we were alone in the room, I could feel the eyes of the horny spirits watching us and swirling around us. It seemed as though the ones who were left out were jealous of the ones who got to inhabit our flesh. He sucked on my ass as he pulled on my fat cock with his rough hands. The moans around us were now joined by my moans and his slurping on my hole. I spread my ass cheeks wide as I leaned on the machine. It felt as if he was fucking me with his tongue that felt like a fat cock head teasing and prying my man hole.

When He stood up, I felt him pull down his sweats and his fat Long prick sprung up with a loud slap against my wet, gaping ass-lips. He pulled down and let it go several times, letting me feel and hear his hard, fat cock slap against my hole over and over again. On the last slap, he aimed it just right and i felt his swollen dick head press against my hungry, slurping ass lips. I heard him spit on the junction between our joining flesh and all at once he buried his fat pipe deep inside me. I heaved and let out a loud gasp as the spirits around us now excitedly moaned and circled around us. It seemed as if I could feel their hot breath, but it was nothing compared to the hot fuck pole now stuffing my cunt. He punched all the way inside me and then pulled all of his slick cock out of my hole and then buried it to the hilt again, over and over he pumped my now gaping hole as he held my hips steady for the next thrust. I was now face down on the machine being fucked so hard that we were knocking the washing machine around. My cock was gushing pre-cum against the hot metal machine and with each hard thrust it was rubbing up and down the smooth metal. I could hear him starting to groan and pant behind me. His hot pits and hairy chest were dripping hot man sweat up and down my back as he heaved and pumped his pipe in and out of me. He started to cum and the spirits went wild. I could see them now standing around us in a circle encouraging us to put on our stinking, lubed-up, spit filled flesh party. His thick, hard dick pumped and released over and over again sending thick creamy jizzm shooting up into my guts. I could feel it spurting out between the seal made between my ass lips and his meat pipe. Hot cum was now flowing down my legs and and scooped up a handful and stroked my swollen meat until it blew all over the inside of my shorts and covered the front of the washing machine while six-pack man finished dumping the rest of his load deep inside me.
We laid like that panting and heaving for several minutes with his wet, hairy chest pressing hard against my back. the hot cum was now really dripping down my legs and the smell of it mixed with the heavy humid air. His still hard cock was still wedged deep in my hole as his breath began to slow and our bodies began to recover from our ghost take-over fuck. His heavy cum and spit lubed meat slipped out of my hole with a slap and I could feel the spirits leave our bodies. We pulled up our shorts, now covered in cum and sweat and sat down without a word to finish our beers. The washing machine loads stopped and we both stripped down to toss in the last of our soiled clothes. As we sat naked in the dark, hot, humid laundry room, we drank a couple more beers and without any words, we realized that we had just been a part of some supernatural joining that couldn't be duplicated quite the same again. We finished our laundry and the beers and left the haunted laundry. As I left I looked back and I'm pretty sure I saw Garg there smiling his toothy grin at me holding up a beer as if to toast my cum-filled fuck in the haunted laundry room.

Viagra Warning

If you experience an erection lasting more than 4 hours, come see me fucker!

Thanks New York Eagle

I went to New York with some friends about a month ago. I've been before, but I'm not what you would call 'familiar' with the city. I am however, a city guy. I always feel more at home in any city, the bigger the better (a common theme for me). 

After checking into our hotel and meeting up with my friends we jumped on the subway and off we went. Everything about the subway reminds me of sex. the smell, the sounds, the heat, the people - all of it. I didn't pretend to know where we were going, I was just along for the ride. When we came up from under ground and started walking, I saw we were going to Central Park. OK, that's cool I guess. I'm all for the park in any city. But, I was only going to be there for a couple of days, and I live in a fucking forest preserve. I kept my mouth shut for a while. We walked, we talked, we took pictures, we even obeyed the quiet zones. Finally, I had had enough! "I live in the God Damn Park! I didn't come all the way to New York City to relax in the fucking park! Bring on the FREAKS!" I shouted, completely ignoring the fucking quiet zone. My friends decided they had better get me to a bar quick, so off we went.

First, we went to Raw Hide. I think I was there the last time i was in the city, but that was early on in my gay life. Looking back, I remembered it so much bigger. It was a tiny little place, but al least it had dudes in in it. I could relax now and get my drink on and do some cruising around. 

All I've heard for the last several years is how New York has been so "cleaned-up," that a good, dirty, faggot-boy couldn't even find himself in some kind of a compromising kneeling position in some dirty bar. 

Well, I don't give up easily. Besides, I had a couple of days to explore, and I didn't want my knees to go out on me the first night I was there. I chilled with my friends and had a good time. Raw Hide was more like a neighborhood hangout. Very friendly, and maybe very cruisy if I were alone, but I was hanging with my hommies - never a great way to get yourself into some dirty trouble. I will say this though, Raw Hide should be on the register of museums for the incredible collection of gay erotic art that it has on the walls. I mentioned it to who I think was the owner, and he said that they had to replace the one time original art work with prints because people were starting to realize how valuable some of it was. They had everything from Tom of Finland, to Etienne, to Rex (my favorite), The Hun, old gay bar posters form the hay-day... the list goes on.  A must-see as far as I'm concerned if only to see the art on the walls. It's better to go during the day if you really want to get a good look at it.

So with a belly full of beer, off we went to the New York Eagle. Now this is what I had come to new York for. For that first night I was there I really didn't know where I was from one minute to the next. it's a pretty confusing place after 6 or 8 beers, not to mention the fact that as you are walking around, you move from being up in the clouds to down in the bowels of hell. Of course, I mean that in the nicest possible way. 

My friends got tired of trying to keep up with me and so they left me there to wallow in what ever I could find. I made it to some part of the bar where there was a dress code. I obviously wasn't dressed right, so I was told over some loud speaker by an emcee to take off my shirt. No problem there, I really didn't want it on anyway. 

After having my tit pulled and sucked on for a while it got red and swollen and so I went ot look for some cock.
I put myself into a position where I would be out of the way, but it would be clear that what I wanted was to slide down the wall and slobber on a fat piece of meat.
After a few guys wondered past to see what was up, this one big guy positioned himself so there was no guessing what he wanted from me. I slid down the wall and undid his pants. Out popped what I was looking for. I long fat banana schwooped cock hardening up to plunge down my throat.
I started making his fat cock feel good with my sloppy mouth. Pretty soon it was clear we were putting on a pretty good show and other guys were egging us on as I slid up and down on his dick. I could hear the guy next to me starting to moan pretty good and then I felt his jizz on my neck, and then sliding down my chest. that must have turned my guy on because I could start to taste the pre-cur really start to flow. soon he was pumping my throat good and hard. then he stopped and I felt his cock contract and release over and over again as his hot load pumped into my gullet. For the last few shots he backed out and soaked down my face and mouth. It was a really satisfying ending to what would turn out to be only the beginning of my New York Cocksucker holiday.