Can Opener

I meet him in the maze. He's leaned up against the wall; he's tall, young, cute, pale skin and medium-dark hair. I rub his chest - one of my favorite opening salvos, because it allows for a variety of responses, and it's a fairly low-stress way to check a guy's interest - and he responds by leaning toward me and groping my dick. We kiss. I reach around and grab his ass cheek; he turns a little, presenting his ass to me, and I start to massage the cleft and rub his hole.  I murmur into his ear that it's a sweet little hairy hole he's got; he tells me it's for Daddy to breed. I know we're going to get along just fine. His hole on the outside feels clean and dry; he's had a shower, at least, since he's been fucked last - maybe I'm even lucky enough to be first for the night. I like being first. 

We make out there in the little passageway - it reminds me of ZORK, "a maze of twisty little passages, all alike" - he turns against the wall, and I'm fingering his hole open, rubbing my cock against it with a little lube, and I start to gently fuck him - but after a while, I'm getting more helping hands than I really want (some of the guys are trying to finger my ass, which I'm not in the mood for today) and so I take him around the corner into the little wooden booth, and lean him over the bench there to start really fucking him in earnest. I ask if he wants some poppers, and he says yes. I pass him the little brown bottle I carry on a lanyard around my neck. 

For some reason, it makes me think of the P-38 can opener that my Dad always carried in his survival kit when we were on scouting campouts. I both loved and hated the Boy Scouts; there was a lot of joy, but also a lot of emotional trauma, in those years of campouts and meetings. I start telling the guy I'm fucking about it - the little folding metal piece, how it would open a can even if it wasn't sharpened, how my Dad is a survival nut with all the canned food stored up in case of the Big Collapse, and the can opener was the key to all that food. Poppers are a different kind of can opener - they help me get my dick into hot boys, and it's remarkable how often that little lanyard around my neck comes in handy, how often it helps get me laid. I've got a little bottle of lube on a spring bracelet around my left wrist, too - gotta make it easy for people to give you ass. It makes me think about the things I learned from my Dad, and I'm having kind of a misty nostalgic moment... all the while, I'm fucking this guy, gently but persistently, opening his hole up, and telling him what's on my mind. I spank him, strong loud slaps across his meaty ass that make guys turn their heads and look - and I'm telling him about how this connection, older man into younger man, makes me think about generations, and the continuity of men down the ages, Daddy fucking boy, again and again, world without end. 

He flips on his back, putting his feet up on my shoulders. I can really get in deep, now - he's fully opened inside, and he's moaning and enjoying himself. I work open his second hole, and he's FULL of cum - I tell him as I feel it flooding out of him and dripping down my thighs. It was way up in there, past the second hole where the intestine makes that hairpin curve, so he's definitely gotten some big dick already tonight - I congratulate him on having ridden some big cocks. I'm guessing from the amount, that it was more than one. Probably more than two. I also feel a little twinge of jealousy - there's this primal feeling of wanting to be the only top, wanting to breed him and make him carry my baby, wanting to impregnate him and dominate him and make him my bitch. I smack his thighs, like a punishment for being a slut, for having other men before me. I thrust a little harder. He suggests we move to the sling. 

I put him in the sling, and we fuck. And we fuck. We fuck fast, and then slow; we fuck gently, and then with a driving, hip-slamming intensity. I show him how I can pummel his prostate with the head of my cock; he shows me how he can squeeze his sphincter tight and make my glans pop each time I enter him on the long stroke. It's really beautiful. We do some poppers - him more than me, but I have some too from time to time - and we just keep fucking. Guys watch, some of them jerk their dicks, some wander away when it's obvious that we're just going to keep fucking, and we're not going anywhere. I build up to a near-orgasmic pitch a couple of times, and then coast down to a gentle rollicking fuck again. I hold the chains and slam him into me; I hold the sling frame and rock him gently back and forth on my cock. I'm enjoying being inside this man so much, I'm really in no hurry to get off. 

I ask if he sucks dick; it's usually my go-to for an appetizer, but we seem to have skipped it and gone right into the entrée tonight. He tells me that he's got a broken tooth, and he can't. I ask if I could put my cock in his throat if he didn't have a broken tooth, and he tells me maaaaybe? So that's a good note for later. I tell him that a lot of my favorite tricks involve things like reaching into his mouth to make him gag, but I can't with the tooth issue, so I slap him hard on the chest - he tells me that he's not interested in that particular pain, so I don't give him another one. 

He says something about finally getting to play with me after having so many conversations. I don't recognize him, but he knows me - I explain to him about how being on the spectrum means (for me) that I take time to recognize people - how the first meeting is a huge pile of data, the sounds of the room we're in, the color of the shirt he's wearing, the smell of the food at the party, the host's cat walking across the back corner of the kitchen - and only a tiny section of this whole complicated morass of information is his face. The next time I meet him, maybe it's a pool party, and it smells like sunscreen, and there are fifteen half-naked men, and he's wearing no shirt now, and the sun is dazzling my eyes... it often takes me three to five meetings to firmly lock in the image of a new person's face. And it feels weird, delivering a TED talk about neurodivergence and facial recognition while I'm fucking at a gay bath house... but at least I'm delivering good dick while I'm at it. At least... I'm having fun - is it good for you too? He confirms that he's having a good time as well. Then he starts doing more of the amazing Cirque-du-Butthole things he's been doing to my cock, and we're off again. 

I tell him, it's a shame, really - these guys who are watching - they can only see the broad strokes: the rhythm, the basic body angles - they can't see what's really going on, because most of the real skilled work here is going on up inside his asshole, out of sight. You're delivering a masterclass on how to please Daddy with your man-cunt, and it's entirely invisible in the demo. I'm the sole audience member who gets to enjoy it. And DAMN, but I am enjoying it. I probably fuck him, no lie, for half an hour. 

Finally, I am getting to a point where I am close. I wrap a hand around the shaft of my cock, and I can feel it create a little vacuum, a little suction up against his asshole. Each time I pull it aaaallll the way out, it pulls out a little splash of semen, and then I shove all the way in again. I lean forward, and tell him, loud enough for everyone to hear: "You know what? The reason we have these mushroom-shaped cock heads - it's because they help to remove the semen of competing males. So that when you finally do ejaculate, the semen that stays up inside, the load that impregnates the female, is more likely to be yours." 

And then, slamming him so hard that the whole sling frame shakes, I cum. I ejaculate, and I keep fucking. It goes on for a while. It's LOUD. 

I usually have to stop, and go shower, and take a break. But he keeps working my cock with his amazingly muscular butthole - I swear that thing has knuckles - and he gets me hard again. I pick back up to a good lazy fucking pace; I don't feel like I'm going to cum again, but I'm really enjoying a sweet victory lap. It goes on that way for probably ten minutes or so, and I almost cum a couple of times, but my body is just too spent. I finally thank him for the fuck, and leave to go shower.