That
Wonderful Town
Until
the last time I attended IML (International Mr. Leather)
Contest in Chicago, I'd never experienced such an awesome
assemblage of sexually charged men.
I had taken my leather gear with me and intended to add to my wardrobe
while I was there. I hadn’t really thought about going out Saturday night and
what I'd wear. I was still tripping from the night before and ended up in my
bar vest, shorts, boots, white socks, and collar. I stuffed my blue and yellow
hankies into my back pocket, should anyone be interested.
I got started
late that evening, lost track of my buds along the way, and headed to the Cell Block to see what was going down. The back room was crowded, and it didn’t take me long to get
to sucking. The guy was average, but he clearly needed to lose his Load; and it
wasn’t long before his salty Nectar was trickling down my throat. The guy next
to him was jerking off. I
wrapped my hot lips about his Meat and milked his Cream.
I was
surprised at how crowded the john was.
Behind the door is a ledge that guys sit on. A dude in army fatigues beckoned me over, unzipped, and
begged me to put my Pecker in his pants.
My pleasure! Before
long my hot stream of golden Piss cascaded over his Cock and Balls, drenching
the insides of combat boots.
Guy-2
saw what was going down and approached us. He started rubbing my Butt Cheeks, found the 2-way zipper on
my shorts, and pulled them down.
He probed my Ass Crack, while, with his other mitt, he beat off
furiously.
As I
finished pissing, the Pissee shoved his Poppers under my nose I felt light-headed. He pushed me down on his throbbing
Cock, and I opened up to take his Manmeat. I could taste my Piss on him and lapped It off his Shaft and Balls, savoring each drop of
Golden Juice. He undid his fatigues and dropped them to his ankles. I used my tongue to rinse his well
developed thighs of Piss. Another
hit of Poppers and the Pissee twirled around, exposing his Ass Cheeks to me.
Guy-2
stopped fingering my Ass and massaged his hard, wet Shaft against my Hole. I'd been overdoing it of late—plain and
simple just couldn't get enough—and hadn’t realized how sore I’d become from
all the Fucking. Yet I prayed he'd
violate my Mancunt. As I pushed
back, my prayer was answered. He
plowed into my Innards.
I
almost passed out from pain, but someone's Poppers rescued me. Guy-2’s clammy, steel hands gripped me
about the waist and hung on for dear life. I was trapped between Heaven and Hell—the pain was
excruciating—yet Guy-2’s fat Cock aroused me, and I resumed rimming the Pissee
with gusto.
As my
tongue darted in and out of his Hole I tasted Sweet-and-Salty. The more I lapped, the more distinct
the taste became. Don't know how
many Loads I felched; but I vowed not to let a single drop of Jizm go to waste.
So I ate out every drop of Cum that Pig had taken and bathed my face and his
Ass Cheeks in his Creamy Spooge.
As I licked at the last remaining drops of Jizm from the Pissee's Ass,
Guy-2 pumped Poison Jizm up my Ass.
When
he pulled out, the Pissee spun me around and rammed his Cock inside of me, long
enough to thrust a few, before he also lost it and more ropes of Noxious Seed invaded
my bruised and battered Pussy. It
was only then that I noticed the Biohazard Tat
on Guy-2’s shoulder.
So
enthralled was I with getting screwed, it never occurred to me to question
Status. I've never intentionally played unsafe—lax maybe—but
not unsafe. But there I sat with two
potentially POZ Loads
in me. Too late to worry, my fate
was sealed.