The Fraternity of Handsfree Daddies, Part 2: The Fuckening

 For all of this next part, there's no video. It's a boundary, and that's respected. You'll get more later; there's some serious throat-fucking... but for now, a LOT of text.

Now that Wes has had his spanking, and we get plenty of fun attention around that... he's ready to get fucked. This is a thing I've wanted to do for a while - to open this sweet little gazelle up like a ravishing lion, rip him apart down the middle and have my way with him. He's got a remarkably responsive nervous system, and it's like driving a sports car - I like to vroom him. I want to really open him up and see how fast he can go. Y'all hold tight, it's a very twisty road. Do you know what a chicane is? It's that. This is chicanery. Actually, it's more like shenanigans, but anyway. It's more fuckery, than trickery. Trickery, fuckery, dock. 

I feel like there's a chance to make a really special party for the Birthday Boy. We've got a good vibe. It reminds me of topping Adrian [see also: Slappy Birthday]. I want for Wes to have the kind of mind-blowing, overwhelming, life-changing experience that you just can't get from randomly throwing your legs in the air. I want to guide, to collaborate, to curate. I want to help, in the big sense of that word, him have a good time. I want to make this a beautiful piece of art, for this man, on his birthday, at his party. 

After some confusion - "Wait... you want to come back and get me? Or meet me inside the little casita?" "Meet me in the VIP room. I'll just need a second." He disappears, and in a few minutes, I follow. I keep thinking Nigel's going to come along with us, because Wes stood for so long playing with us both, but he gets pulled to the side as we're trooping in, and it's just me. There are a couple of other guys already fucking around in the VIP space, but it seems like they're reached a natural conclusion to whatever they were doing, and they switch modes and stand in the kitchenette and to refresh their beverages. 

I hang out, a little awkwardly, because all the guys who are now filling their cups and getting re-sun screened and going outside, kind of hang out with me and paw me a little, friendly-like, but they're not guys I know, and I'm not sure where Wes is. Then, Wes comes in; he had apparently taken a detour through the main house for something. Anyway. He's here now, but still needs a moment in the back bathroom by himself. I honestly don't care if he's having a brief prayer meeting with his sponsor on his cell phone, or checking his clean-out to make certain he's pristine... he's the Birthday Boy, and I'm planning to do some REALLY rough stuff to him... so he gets all the bathroom he needs. Bottoms... they do so much for us, we need to appreciate their hard work and sacrifice, and never begrudge somebody that "gotta go re-hose my hole" grace. 

While we're waiting, there's this big, muscular guy with a sweet dick, and he's talking about these special poppers from Amsterdam. They're amyl nitrate instead of isobutyl nitrate, which is what you get in the main brands you can buy in the US, and this is the same chemical that originated the name "poppers," from when they would pop a glass ampule of it to wave under the nose of patients in certain cardiac situations. That's what guys used to use for fucking - you would break this little glass thing inside a sleeve, and sniff it. Then it went to the "video head cleaner" that you could get in a bottle, same stuff. Then prudes outlawed that stuff, and then there was a LOT of confusing information about it interacting with the AIDS virus (back before she was HIV. I'm not deadnaming her, but that's what it was, then). Anyway. I love poppers. I've only ever had the usual ones - although it used to be, I think, ethyl nitrate or something for a while, they just keep changing the alcohol base to keep ahead of the law. They were stronger thirty years ago. I've talked to guys who make them. I've sucked dick with guys who make them. It was a hole-opening experience. If you get a chance to fuck the Double Scorpio guys, do. 

So, this big muscular dude in the leatherman looking hat and giant mustache, the one who has the fantastic poppers, he comes over and kind of joins me while I'm waiting for Wes. We share his poppers, and he kneels and deepthroats my cock. I fuck into his mouth, and he is muscular and effortless, massaging my cock with his tongue and his throat. He's fun. He's got a big dick, too, and I lay him back on the bed and suck it for a bit, before lifting his legs and beginning to open his ass. Thank you, thank you, Dr. Carlton - the butt clock is always awesome. Of course, being me, I'm literally EXPLAINING this as I'm doing it - pressing one and then another quadrant of his sphincter, first you do the left, and then whichever six or twelve makes it his tailbone, and then the right, and then you do the side that aims toward his cock... and as you stretch that open, you can press, and then expand and stretch and prod, because that's where is prostate is at. I love the fact that you can literally open up a guy in like fifty seconds... and he won't have that stabby, gotta-jump-on-it-then-stop-and-start-over thing. It's a sweet trick. 

Anyway. I'm fucking this beautiful big dude, he looks like something out of Tom of Finland, covered in curling black hair that he tells me is because he's an Arab, and they're the most masculine - and I can pretty much agree with him on this - I'm banging away, fucking him deep, grabbing him by the mouth, and then by the thick steel link chain around his neck. I think it's one of the ones that the leather guys have that's like a weight-bearing chain, and I'm pulling on it, literally rocking him back and forth holding the chain in my fist so that it squeezes his neck. I use my other hand to reach into his throat, and gag him to make his ass spasm. Suddenly, the chain parts, and at first I think the clasp has just opened, but apparently I have broken a link, and he says it's totally worth it, and we just fucked through a moderately priced piece of stainless steel jewelry; if for no other reason than the hot story of "I got fucked so hard it broke this ten-gauge steel," it was about BEING there. There was just this energy that said, "Grab him by the chain and choke his neck a little," and it was the right move to make. We're laughing and relaxing, and now Wes is ready. He walks over to join us, straightens out his bedding, puts down a towel, because we ALL know we're going to fuck him until he's a sloppy, drooling, jizz-drenched mess. 

I begin by putting him on his knees. I have made out with him, I've spanked him, I've put my fingers in his mouth... but I've never gotten to experience Wes's blowjob. He's remarkably good. I don't think he's ever done the majority of the things I put him through ever before, but he takes to it gamely and enjoys drinking up every minute. He lets me fuck. I explain to him about how I want him to gag, how to spit up the slime, how to relax and let me hurt him. 

It's hard to describe... but his throat creaks a couple of times, when I fuck into it hard. It's a feeling of an orifice right at the edge of its tolerance, the tendons that support his larynx literally twanging across the ridge of my glans as I power-fuck his throat. It takes a while to work up to that, and I'm practicing working with what I think of as the Dominant's Pendulum... you take him to the safe place. Then you take him to the scary place, and you let him tell you when he's had enough... and then you take him back to the safe place. Safe... scary. Safe..... SCARY. Back and forth. It rings a boy like a bell; you get to this sweet submissive state where he's flying, high as FUCK on epinephrine and acetylcholine and endocannabinoids and endorphins, trembling with nervous energy. So, basically, he's on two different kinds of speed, and two different systems of pain suppression and emotional opening. Plus, he's had plenty of pot, as have I, hitting from my vape pen, but also from a glass weed pipe guys have been passing. We're in a happy place. 

I check in with him frequently, to make sure where he's at, how he's doing. I fuck his throat hard, and then hold for time - I explain to him about the safe place, and the scary place. I make him go to the scary place. More and more. As I fuck his throat through the air hunger spasms, he starts to buck and gag and flex his body with the retching, and he's getting a little high and shaky. Perfect.

I explain to him about the energy - about bringing up the energy like a glowing flame from his crotch, bringing it up his belly, up his chest. Make it shine from your face like a light, boy. Then, I ask him if he would prefer to think with the Indian system or the Chinese system - a quick explanation of how each works... and because he's Cambodian but of Chinese descent, the Taoist one makes the most sense to him. I tell him about the circuit, the Microcosmic Orbit, the loop coming up the back, over the top of the head, down the belly... and as I'm fucking into his mouth, I tell him to picture the energy going down my cock into his throat, and that my fucking strokes are shoving the energy along its path, revving the circuit. I tell him to picture the fire beginning at his taint - his prostate - his dantian. It rises up the back channel, the Governor channel, prickling upward like a marching colony of tiny red ants, biting where it touches, making everything energized and sparkling... and then up and over the head (and as I'm saying this, him kneeling before me, I'm running my hands up his back, over his head...) and then picture them building up on your upper lip, then reach your tongue forward and let them trickle down your throat... then as the tide of them rushes down, they bite every place they touch, and your chest, your nipples, your belly, are all on fire with energy, and you feel it going down.... and into the dantian again. Squeeze the dantian - and because Wes is a good boy, he knows what I mean - and he squeezes his dantian and presses the energy up, and he's pretty good at visualizing it as I touch him through it. 

I put him on the bed on his belly, and our friend the Trucker with the amazing poppers and the broken steel chain, comes over to stand by his head. I explain that I want to make sure he keeps gagging, while I work open his butthole. Trucker puts his big dick in Wes's mouth and begins to gently and then more firmly rock it forward and back. He's already watched me fuck Wes in the throat until the drool is dripping down his chin, and I've also sucked his sick until ditto, and I've fucked his throat until also ditto... so all three of us are lubey and slick. I start licking into Wes's butthole with my tongue, spitting drool so that his little tan pucker is surrounded by a puddle of slime. Then, I take a finger, and, still licking, begin to massage and probe him open, letting all that slime flow into his hole with gravity like it's going down a floor drain, and then drooling in some more. Meanwhile, he's getting throat-fucked at the other end of the bed, and every time he gags on the dick, his whole core, including the butthole in which my fingers and my tongue are taking turns, squeezes tight. One of these days, I want to film it in slow motion and see if you can see the transit time. In person, it seems like the retch is simultaneous from cake hole to corn hole, like it's one momentary spasm - but I bet there's a traveling cascade, if you can get the video resolution. We keep passing around the amazing poppers, and I keep opening up Wes's delicious butthole. I tell him... "OK. Now. Picture the energy, picture it drawing up your back... and coming down your front... and now... I'm going to TOUCH YOU IN YOUR DANTIAN. I reach in, and massage his prostate with one and then two fingers, drawing circles on it, swiping it side to side, holding still and pressing gently with my fingertips until I can palpate the artery that pulses right beneath the gland, and I'm feeling his heart beating in the seat of his sexual energy. It's a sweet, intimate caress. I thump him in time to his heartbeat. I tell him to squeeze the dantian, and it throbs with muscular spasm, and I massage it in time with his squeezing. Then, I rub it some more, then jack-hammer it with three fingers until he's shaking. Then I put my dick in him.

I fuck. And I fuck. Trucker is still fucking at the other end, making him gag. I am still thinking Nigel's supposed to show up, and eventually he does, and he takes Trucker's spot at the head, and then I stand next to him and take turns fucking Wes in the throat. I explain again how fascinating I find it to gag him... because now Trucker is banging his hole hard, and when I sheath my cock fully in his throat to make him gag, I tell Trucker to hold himself all the way in, like thrust deep into his cunt and keep it there, and you can feel not only his external and internal anal sphincters spasm, but you feel his second hole shift around because of the retching reflex. It is... transcendent. I mean, there's this beautiful massaging sensation right around the head of your cock, plus another one around about an inch from the base of your cock, and another one at the very base. They pulsate. And they're all kind of flexing and spasming and milking my fucking penis like a virtuous cheerleader with a hot boyfriend.  Squeeze it, and rub it from the base to the tip. But it's like three hands. I swear, if you have the opportunity to play this game with a talented and willing whore... DO EEEEET. The guy I'm doing it with - I don't even need to pretend he's only mine. This is a boy for community service at the highest levels.

The things that feel so amazing, are mostly reflexes and cascades of neurochemicals caused by the fact that his body thinks it's being CHOKED TO DEATH, and he's having to ride that dragon as I take him from the safe place... to the really scary place. At one point, I lean down and grab his mouth and nose so that he's totally incapable of breathing. I've got one hand fully inside his mouth, three fingers shoving his esophagus shut by main force, my other hand gripping tightly over his nose, and I say, "You just have to hope you've gotten the nice crazy guy, and not the bad crazy guy. I mean, I could be that psychopath who really won't let you breathe. I could be a monster." I let him struggle for a second, but he's not tapping, and he knows I'm watching... and then he taps. I let my hand off, instantly. "And... I'm NOT the monster. I'll let you breathe, and then I'll gag you again, and make you worry, once again, if I'm just playing a long game." 

So, after a bit more of that... each of us taking a turn being in each place, so that each guy could feel what I was talking about - it's time for Wes to get another minute in the bathroom. Good lord, she's earned it. And then, because boundaries, and because I want to fuck Wes in the throat again and again, I go wash my dick. I won't fuck anybody until I've had it in Wes's throat. He's asked for freshly washed cock, and he gets it. While Wes is freshening up and I'm waiting to wash my cock off, Nigel and I kind of hang out talking and stroking dicks; I show him some of the video from the docking and the Fireball shots earlier, we talk about how fun sex is. Another guy comes in - and he's another hot Daddy. And... Wes is in the bathroom. And in the bathroom. 

I tell Hot Daddy, how attractive and big and muscular he is - I mean, look at this powerful body, this massive penis. You're a beautiful man - and he says, "Yeah, that's why I'm a porn star. I'm Maxxx Schlong"  LOL at my life. And so I deepthroat Mr. Schlong, and we do some more of the fabulous poppers, and I'm barely able to take him without him hitting my teeth - a couple of times there's a problematic molar, not that it's jagged or out of place, just that the arch of my jaw is too small. 8.5 x 7 as listed on his Twitter page is no exaggeration; it's solid as a rock, too. It's a LOT of penis. 

I figure out that if I use one finger like it's the Whitehead gag, holding the teeth away from the cock in that one spot... he can fuck. And, after he's secure in the fact that he's not going to hit my teeth, he FUCKS. He's pounding my throat, shoving and holding, shoving and thrusting and holding... 

I can feel a tendon or ligament or something stretch in a weird way where he's shoving into the back of my throat, like this monster slab of meat is rearranging my anatomy in lasting ways...  this is precisely what I was feeling earlier as I fucked into Wes's throat. I OPENED him. I fucked into his throat so hard his nose bruised my pelvic bone, that little sensitive place just under your self-conscious belly... and I've been doing exactly what Max is doing - knocking out that bitch of a bearing wall. It literally stretches the tendons restricting the throat. The things that Wes is able to do now, he could not do an hour ago. You take them further and further down the path through the scary woods. And after a while, the woods are familiar, and you go into the scary CAVE. And then there's the even-scarier pit in the cave... you get the idea. It gets rougher as you go.

Back to the matter at hand, that is to say the giant penis in my esophagus: there's no trying to breathe around this thing; I just hold on until it's breath time. He's good; he understands the timing and the way to thrust and how to handle the gags. He lets me tap, again and again. He breaks in some real estate in my throat that has never been previously explored. And then, thank God, Wes is ready again. 

Wes gets on the bed.... I'm leaned against the headboard, he is on his elbows basically sprawled in my lap, and Maxxx is behind him. I'm never sure whether I'm supposed to call him Max, or if the xxx is part of his name. I kind of stage-direct, because.... hey, I've decided I'm the Birthday Boy's Official Primary Top and Cruise Director - like some twisted Mistress of the Women, but I'm trying to schedule a parade of hot Daddy beef to help me fuck him. I fuck him open with nothing but spit, ... and he has been a champ when other guys have offered to grease him up, with letting me just use spit. I take some spit from my own recently Schlong-ravaged throat, spit probably two tablespoons of it into my hands, and I massage my cock, and then Max's cock, and Wes's hole in kind of a warm, sloppy friendly everybody-gets-a-turn rubdown. Everybody seems to think that will work OK. Wes is slick as fuck, and we're both drooling lube. I ask Wes if I can spit on him; he says yes. I take a deep breath and spray spit at his face like a llama, then rub it over his face and chest. I love that texture. 

Maxxx shared some photos - that's not Wes

He says, "It's so fun being gay," and I tell him about how another hot boy said the same thing, when we were playing similar games [see also: Czeching In] and I reach my hand into his mouth, and press his epiglottis, explaining to him what I'm doing, stopping his breathing to make him hypercapnic - that buildup of carbon dioxide that drives him into air hunger and panic, and makes the stupid high rush, and makes him fly, while he's getting fucked at both ends. He gags on my hand, and then I replace it with my cock, shoving his head down so that his nose is pressed hard into my pubic bone. He gags. He gags a LOT. Snot comes down his nose, drooling down his face and onto my belly in a slippery puddle. I keep fucking his throat; Max keeps fucking his ass. I touch him and remind him to move the power up, and down, in the circuit, back to front, the Governor channel, the Functional Channel. I tell him about what I'd like to try - compressing his carotid arteries to make him dizzy. I don't ever interfere with a guy's breathing while doing that, so everything is out of his mouth, and I kiss him, passing a hit of poppers into his mouth with my breath, and I gently press with my thumbs. I never make him fully under, but I dip him into the brown-out zone again and again - where everything gets just a little sparkly, and you feel a little light-headed... and then I let go and the blood rushes to your face and you feel an excited flush. And again. Then, I put him back down and fuck him in the throat some more. And then, Maxx and I trade ends. 

Because of what I've been doing with my hand and my cock, Wes is ready for Max in his throat. It's amazing to watch him take it. I'm fucking him deep, and most of the time I can tell when Max is going to gag him, so I can bury the bone - but every once in a while, he gets him in a way that surprises me, and I'm squeezed out of Wes's tight little shitter by the muscle spasm. It's a THING, that spasm - the ideal situation, is to have yourself fully inserted and totally braced, because then it can only squeeze AROUND your dick, and that's the awesome part (and... holy fuck, I'm seriously, not at all kidding. This is... THE SHIT. This, is as good as when you fuck him in the throat and he gags. Well, or almost. It's one of the Best Things in Sex.) Anyway. It IS the same one... because the throat-fucker is also getting gagging service, the esophagus spasming around his shaft and glans... and because we keep trading ends (with washings as needed), we keep making him cough up snot and we keep stretching and wrecking and opening his hole. At one point, he says, "FUCK ME," but it's more like the British version - and I tell him, "You know... I don't think that there's anybody at this party who can make you much more fucked than you are fucked right now... you've been fucked in the throat, fucked in the ass, fucked in the your second hole at each end, fucked in the head. I have fucked you from one end to the other. You're about as fucked as it's possible to get." 

Brandt comes in [see also: Slappy Birthday, see also: Remarkable] and I ask if I can suck his dick. I look over, and see that Nigel has come in, and now has Wes on his back with his legs up, jack-hammering into his second hole. Max has slipped out. Brandt laughs, and says not today - he tells Trucker that I'm crazy, and that he'll play with me at parties, but I'm not coming to the house. I laugh, and say I'm fine with that - this kind of occasional play in creative groups, is what really pushes my buttons lately. We pass our hands over Nigel and Wes, stroking their bodies as they fuck, Nigel grizzled and and hairy against this remarkably resilient boy who keeps taking more. Nigel pounds faster and faster, and bangs Wes's head repeatedly into the headboard as he ejaculates in a series of low grunts. They collapse together for a second, and then Wes goes and washes his face, and comes back.  

Brandt asks Wes if he wants any Ketamine, or any Moly; Wes says yes to ketamine. I've been with a few guys who are on Ketamine, K, Special K... They're fun, unlike guys who are on meth. It's a dissociative anesthetic, and although I've never tried it, I'm curious and interested. NOT for a group scene, the first time, though. ANYWAY. Brandt takes the vial with the tiny spoon, and molds my left hand in a particular arrangement so that the crease of my thumb makes a little channel, stroking the base of the crease like a pussy to stretch it just so, so that the powder won't go down in the cracks... and then he dips out a little row of clumps of powder, and smooths them out on my thumb with the tiny scoop. Wes holds one nostril and snorts it, then Brandt tells him to lick off the residue, which he does. This is the first time I have ever had someone snort something off my hand. It doesn't really shake me - it just pushes a little notation card that says, "OK, so now that's happened." And we do some more poppers, and we keep going. I keep fucking his throat, and then two other guys show up. These, Wes refers to as the Handsfree Daddies. I laugh - and he explains that each of these guys, at different times, has made him cum hands-free, just fucking his ass. They're both handsome, probably fifty-something, in-shape guys, silvering hair with big dicks. I know one of them from a Private Playground fuck party. They come over, and Max heads out. 

We take turns. I start by trying to get one of them to work in with me, like what I was doing with Adrian's ass - but that doesn't work out with the position we're lying in, and we end up having to get up off the bed and bend Wes over it, so that we can. We take turns hammering his ass, a few strokes at a time, passing his hole back and forth with strings of slobber joining our dicks. The other Daddy stands by us, and I lean over and suck his dick. And then he leans over and sucks my dick when I pull it fresh and juicy from Wes's slick butthole. We both know it's wet with Max's sperm. 

Then I lie down with my head toward the headboard, and Wes rides my cock while Daddy 1 stands on the bed and fucks him in the throat. Trucker, or as I think of him, Mister Magic Poppers, is still here, and letting us borrow the amyl, so we are floating and I'm living in a fantasy of being around when "safe sex" meant you would be unlikely to get beaten up during or after, and you probably wouldn't get busted by the cops. I'm thrusting up hard into his second hole, and he grunts and yelps. I talk to him about the energy - the way the erotic charge circulates - and because he's from Cambodia of Chinese descent, he's familiar with the Taoist system, so I go with that. The Macroscosmic Orbit. I tell him about how you squeeze and hold your energy and move it with your intent... and I explain that with a cock in each end like this, he can picture the energy as a great loop - my cock in his asshole shoves the energy up the back channel, and when it gets up to the top of his head, making the circuit down his throat via the invading cock in his mouth, and then spreading like a marching band of fire ants, constantly biting, prickling, going inexorably down toward his dantian... the base of his cock - and then out to his cockhead, which I'm stimulating with one hand while I gag him with the other, when Daddy 1 isn't throat-fucking him. He is one airtight bitch. 

I want a drink of water, and another turn in Wes's throat, so we take a break. I get my drink, refilling from the water dispenser in the cute little kitchenette; I go and wash my dick again so that Wes will feel comfortable taking it in his mouth. I totally don't mind this kind of thing - he asks, it's a comfort boundary for him... and I've got to be able to take him to the safe place before we get on the express train to the Scary Place. So, if washing my dick every time it comes out of his hole (which is pristine, and I sucked Nigel's dick fresh out of that hole, and it was zero problem... but, for everybody, there is a different comfort level) means that he feels comfortable letting me fuck his face so hard I bruise his nose, I'm all for comfort. 

When I get back to Wes, I put him on his knees again. I fuck his throat. I get him to a pretty fucked up space, before I put him onto the bed. This is what I want. I want to get to this point where I'm so close to orgasm, and then I want to kind of surf that wave. And I'm surfing for him, too - I'm managing his sub-space flight with carefully timed doses of choking-on-cock, choking-on-fingers, spanking-hard-on-ass, slapping-on-chest. I get him face-down, and begin to deep-dick his butthole. I use a lot of penetrating, digging strokes, folding open his rectosigmoid junction - that sweet second hole that I like to call the Uppercunt, with every deep shove. I get him to a point where each stroke, I can feel that u-bend in his intestine fold the foreskin back and forth across my glans, and I'm... not exactly ejaculating, but cum is flowing out of my cock up inside him in little bursts, because I'm squeezing my PC muscles and throbbing my cock. He squelches a little. I put his one hand behind his back, then put the other one with it, so I can hold both of them in one of mine. I tell him to squeeze his dantian - tighten up his asshole and his pelvic floor... and his moans get higher in pitch and faster. I tell him to visualize, with us two in parallel, that the energy flows from my cock up his back channel, then down the front, and I put my hand into his mouth and take his breath away... now, squeeze that muscle, and clench and deep breaths, fast and deep, then gripping over nose and mouth so that he can't breathe at all, but I tell him to keep going fast and deep, and he's wearing out the oxygen in his air... and the vision of the energy circuit almost looks like an infinity symbol, because the loop goes up his body and up mine and makes a kind of folded figure 8. He's holding his cunt tight, squeezing his dick in rhythm with the fuck, and I'm throbbing my cock as I fuck him, my whole weight oppressing his body into the mattress, and he spasms, ejaculating onto the bedclothes in spurts and then in a long flow almost like he's pissing, but it's all semen. I keep fucking him until the wave has fully landed. I let his hands go. Then, I keep my cock inside him and just let him chill with it, filling his hole as he melts softly. He turns up on one side, so that he's got his hips on the bed, pulling one leg up. I'm still inside him, still standing by the bed, but now I can watch his body unwind. His cock, relieved of all that pent up sperm, relaxes and pulls in - familiar to any of us with an uncut dick. I love looking down, seeing his cock with the skin around the head holding a little puddle of creamy white jizz, more gathered in the folds of skin, and a puddle connecting his sticky belly and the towel beneath him.

There's a kind of meta-sexual thrill, that you only get if you've mentally written this kind of script, and then had some amazingly hot temple courtesan decide to play Kama Sutra on your penis, and suddenly you find yourself doing the Congress of the Friendly Dog and the Two Small Biscuits, and you can even see where the yogurt comes in handy. This is partly a reference to Terry Pratchett, may he live in our memories forever, and partly to a porn bit I found where a guy makes his bottom hold yogurt in his mouth and then he fucks it down... and we kind of do some of that, but it's all with mouthfuls of slimy spit being fucked down. Maybe I'll upload that bit to here, it's random found porn, and it's hot as fuck. So, that video, has nothing to do with this scene except that it's hot and it makes me think of how yogurt is used in The Shuttered Palace. But the meta-sexual thrill... this smoking hot boy has always demurred from any requests to make a video for me for my blog and Twitter - until the spanking. And now, you can look at that hot guy, and you KNOW what an amazing piece of handsome, pert-buttocked, smooth-skinned gazelle ass I'm fucking, and you can picture him with snot running down his nose into his mouth, his eyes shaped in serene repose like a sleeping statue, regarding me drowsily through his lashes as my cock obstructs his throat, drooling down his chin onto his chest, utterly used up and exhausted. The other meta-sexual thrill: I've joined the Fraternity of Handsfree Daddies. I've made this hot boy's head explode, and fucked the load out of him via the butthole, and I had him held firmly down with his hands behind him. I win. Well... we all win. 

We laugh and talk for a minute, talking about how fucked up and whored out he's been, enjoying the easy camaraderie of gay guys who've just shared an awesome fuck. 

And so you'll have something to picture jerking off... here's that video with the yogurt. I will do this with some boy soon. 

And because I'm enough of an old man that I get to call privilege on some of these shaking-fist-at-clouds issues... but I'm still a kinky horny bastard... I keep thinking, "I know hot boys who would say yes. I bet I can make some poor mother's son into a yogurt pig." And I think, Bandit.