You're Not My Real Dad.

 

Um, Wow. That... was a night. 

I arrive just before six, they don't have any of the rooms I really prefer, but 201 will do... I like how the mirrors make it bright and reflect the colored lights as well as the action. I pick a slightly magenta pink, and a warm golden yellow. The yellow's better to see by. 

I start the lap through, and I see a couple of guys who might be fun to play with - especially Mickey Moist 

I'm having a chat conversation with the second guy I'll eventually fuck on this night... so THAT is the context of the conversation. When I say things like "I hit him a lot more than I hit you; he seemed to really relish it" I'm directing the conversation TO the guy with the curly hair and the REALLY pretty blue-eyed smile. He's a cutie. ANYWAY. Dickstracted again.

So, I walk through the building; I usually do a counter-clockwise path through the place, moving just fast enough that I am pretty sure I've seen the vast majority, if not all, of the guys here. When I end up at the part where I walk around the pool - I run into a couple of hot otter guys. Their names aren't Daniel and Dylan, but it's a pairing like that. We talk for a while, about how awesome this kind of place is, and how it's really kind of flown under the radar by following the rules and we haven't had to deal with the Gestapo before. They're both very attractive, slimly muscular, the taller one with a long stubble, maybe it's a #1 clipper, and his partner has a thick Ned Flanders mustache and then the rest is that same scruffy beard shadow. It's a neat note, like they wore matching bowties. My Husband does that stuff for us. I often get involved in the construction process, but he's the ideas man. ANYWAY. We talk, and they're clearly not interested in having anything sexual with me, and that's OK - and so I wander on around the rest of my path. 

In one of the rooms, there's this guy on his knees and elbows on the bed, his thick muscular ass jutted toward the door. I'm not usually the biggest fan of this particular advertising method, but for them as likes it, that's a thing they like. I just have to make it weird and have at least a little conversation and a little gagging on my penis, so that I can connect with a guy properly. So, I step in, and run my hands over his lightly fuzzed cheeks, his hairy butthole. He is a Very Good Boy all the way through. He tells me he's married, to a woman, she doesn't know, he's got a limited amount of time. He tells me he's totally type-A in his career, and this is a pressure valve that allows him to let off steam. He loves to totally submit to men here, because he has to make decisions for the team at work. Hey, buddy, whatever creams your twinkie, as long as you're responsible. He's got sandy blond shading to ash brown hair, like it's darker when it comes in, but he gets out in the sun a lot. His mustache and beard almost get the golden glint of ginger. I don't even remember if we discussed work, I so rarely do in the middle of a fuck unless it would have bearing on the language I can use - I LOVE fucking medical professionals, because I can say things like, "Wow, you have a remarkably well-defined prostate," and they can answer things like "Yeah, I do exercises for pelvic floor strength." FUCKING KEGELS, BOYS. If you can't squeeze down your hole, you're not trying hard enough. This boy... I'm sorry, this handsome married Real Dad... well, he is a good boy for me. 

I'm fucking him, and I reach up to cut off his breath with a hand-over-mouth gag - and, in this case, I pinch the nose separately with two fingers, because of the position of the palm. I realize, AS I'm doing it... it looks like a little facehugger. So I kind of squeeze him a little. Then I let him catch just a fraction of breath... again and again. 

And here, I have a narrative throatfuck experience, getting into the storytelling. I love overlaying old stories over the current video by explaining things about how it happened before. The first all-black mask is his; it's fairly well made and has a full blackout blindfold - but the mouth hole is tight and his lip keeps getting pinched in between the hem around the hole. I remember my favorite author, Terry Pratchett, describing some monster as having a mouth "like a hole with a hem" -and this makes me think of that.

He says that he's not up for fisting, but enjoys DP. Fuck, yes, I'm game, please. And, I have more than occasionally managed to set up the trick shots just by walking around with some strange new stud in tow, and saying, "Hey, my friend for the evening here really wants to suck dick and get double-penetrated," and so I pick up the belt... thinking, I can just put it around his hands - but I remember those belts that turn into leather shackles, and I take my big wide man-ass leather belt, the one that holds up my pants, and I look at it, and realize... this can do it totally fine. You just go through the buckle at an angle. Easy-peasy-slave-walk-squeezy. 

You kind of thread it through the buckle like you're turning it into Möbius strip. The real trick, is that you have to tighten the little side, and then pull out the slack, and then pull the slack from the far side against the wrist, and then pull on the tail of the belt again to set the size of the tail side. And Bob's your uncle. 

I snug up the shackle and check to make sure that it's comfortable for him and not cutting off any blood supply. We set off with the intent of making the advanced sodomy happen. He keeps wearing the hood, which has a total blackout blindfold built in. He can't dodge doorways; I'm guiding with a hand on his hand some of the time, but where there's space, like walking down the corridors of a maze area, he just walks behind me following the lead. I tap his elbow if there's some turning or to make him pause. I don't touch him much beyond this as we're walking. I talk with him about the hot guy with the earplugs [see also: Wednesday's Child is Full of.... Well, Semen Actually." and guide him through various spaces. I take him into the room with the cornered video wall, where there's always four different kinds of porn, and a convenient place to show off and share a well-behaved and skillful boy. So, I put him on his knees on a towel in the middle of the floor, remove the shackles so that he will have use of his hands, and begin fucking his throat. Not a lot of fanfare or preamble... and a guy comes over, and I pass the boy to him like he's an appliance, a suction machine with a pulse, a creature of pure beautiful submission. Boy asks if he can remove the hood; I tell him yes, so he holds it in his hand as he sucks me and the other man, back and forth. I show how he can hold him by the skull, and I detail the posture I want for the boy to hold. Pop your ass out. Squeeze your hole. It makes your core (including the part I'm fucking, your neck) tighten up. 

After a little while, it's walk around time, so I put the shackles back on him and take him into the big maze. I walk him around the space, still managing him with the leash. I put him up into the wrist restraints in the little cell area, and I start to spank and alternately finger his ass. Quite vigorous smacks, not terribly intense, but he's definitely not a pussy about it. I fuck him some. I keep hoping one of the guys standing watching and jerking their dicks will join in, but it doesn't happen. I tell them he's really looking for double penetration, and I don't get any takers. But, they still keep watching us fuck and jerking off. I move around and mount the bench part so that I'm standing in front of his face, which I fuck for a while through the bars. 

And then, I put my hand around his neck, in what's called a Rear Naked Choke position in Jiu Jitsu, or a sleeper hold in wrestling. Ideally, the elbow should provide a padded hollow for the trachea that it should only barely touch - guys who push you down into the crook of the elbow hard, or put the forearm across your wrist... they don't know what they're doing. The best way that it works, is that you set the elbow up like a Mason's compass - and I just notice now, as I'm writing this, that he's got a huge Mason's compass tattoo, and that pretty much means he's a Mason, which is also kind of cool. But the compression point that matters, is where the carotid arteries pass on either side of the neck. You press inward on the left and right sides, while you're not squeezing the front. 

And, he drops a little, and then completely slumps against me, hanging fully unconscious, but upheld by the straps and me pressing him to the bars so that he won't collapse. After maybe a dozen seconds, he has a full-body twitch and kind of slurps back to wakefulness. After this, he's exhausted and needs to go home. 

I'm getting worn out. It's half past one. I'm going to chonk some video in here to get the continuity posted, but I've got to take a raincheck on the second half of the writing. 

But suffice it to say - this amazing hot otter guy is SUPER fun, and does pretty much all the weird fuckery. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

OK. I'm back. Whew. I stayed up way too late; today was a little rough. Tomorrow is a Brain Chemistry Adjustment with Homegrown Mushroom Medicine day, which is awesome but also exhausting. Therapy is still hard work, but it's easier if you use appropriate tools and gloves. The Texas Legislature is on the warpath against the medicinal critters that absolutely ended a decade of treatment-resistant depression, and which I take on a recurring basis to stay balanced and optimistic and handle problems. 

And, speaking of which... I go into some really dark weird stuff in the next few bits; I think it's hot, but for some of y'all it might be triggering. I suppose this whole blog needs a trigger warning. But this is a night with a lot of breathplay, some incest role play, spanking, fisting, piss.... you've been warned. If that kind of thing triggers you, this is a post you'll want to skip. 

After Boy McRealdad heads off to shower and go home to his honey, I shower, and I run into this guy who's just kind of wandering around - and you know me, I say Howdy, are you new here, is Dallas treating you OK or do I need to go kick some bitch's ass, metaphorically at least? I like to make awkward-seeming people, especially if they're new or different in challenging ways, feel at home and comfortable. I ask after their welfare with genuine concern for their well-being, because I've been there, and kind people have done the same for me. I've benefited from the mental sherpa work of a number of very kind people who helped me to learn to fit in in specific and often baffling situations. I try to pass it on. I know how it feels to be anxious and concerned and worried - like the cute 19-year-old who kept turning on his camera flashlight to see the puddle under the sling, and I showed them how to go to the desk and let them know there's a slippery wet mess under the sling in the second maze (and, at least some of it was from where I fucked other men's semen out of the mare in the sling)... but that's last week's adventure. Anyway. I know how it is, not to fit in. And by helping someone else climb that wall the first time, I feel better myself. I'm not kidding at all here, and it really does kind of feel like a service to part of gay humanity, giving others a welcoming and friendly face and someone who is willing to answer awkward questions ("What do I do when he just grabs my dick?") and explain all the weird furniture ("See, this is a Lazy Susan; you put your bottom like this (lying down, then back up) and you can flip them back and forth like this (spinning table.) These are things you don't automatically know. I've seen SO many people think that round thing is a regular table, and it's like that funny twirl-a-Squirrel bird feeder, which is tempting just for the amusement value. 

And now, I've decided that the new name of the Lazy Susan table, is the Twirl-a-Squirrel. And I have to tell all my friends. It's made on something like a truck tire bearing, so it's solid as a rock, and spins smooth as butter. Right out from under your ass if you don't sit right. 

Anyway. LONG story short, I see this guy, and he has that kind of lost look. I talk to him a little, and he's visiting Dallas, and has never been to a bath house. I ask if he'd like a tour, and he says he would, and so off we go. We start where I met him by the showers, walk out and around the pool, pointing out the doorway to the inner rooms, and the little bathroom with the private toilet and the two-spigot shower that almost nobody uses. I point out where the warm water jets are in the pool, so you can sit there on a cold night, fourteen degree wind on your face and making ice crystals in your hair that crunch when you brush them - but your feet and your ass are cozy and warm, and the mist rising off the pool is feet thick. We go into the steam room, then the sauna, the showers, the spa. We walk down the hallway and I point out the little hotel-lobby style cabinet they have with everything you might need from poppers to USB-C cables. I always buy beverages; I usually bring the rest with me, but I'll buy something if I've lost one or need something like a cable RIGHTNOW. Anyway. I show him where to put your towel to get new towels, and how there are two kinds of towels, and most of the counter guys look at me and hand me the extra-large one, but they're scratchy, the yarn is spun tighter than the other ones and the terry is spaced wider, and it makes them feel kind of scrubby and unpleasant. I explain this to them, because I don't want them to think I'm just, you know, NUTS... but once I can put it in terms of "it's a sensory thing," I don't even need to say, "It's a spectrum thing." It's my 'tizz. Almost all of my rizz - is tizz. My charisma is entirely powered and managed by my autism. It sounds funny, but totally true. 

I point out the tiny gym, and then after some gestures explaining the shapes of the architecture, we go through the outside maze area, and then the side maze area, and then the center maze area, pointing out things like "This is a good sling for fucking in" and "If you don't move this bench all the way over to the side, the little slave-pen-bars over there will be full of reaching arms that will try to do things like put their fingers in your butt." You know... just things you ought to know. And, if you know things like this - like, how there are glory holes between the little curtained cubicles, and if you don't want somebody reaching through and grabbing your balls and pulling on them while you're getting your ass eaten... pick one in a corner - if you have this knowledge, you can avoid having an unpleasant experience that might otherwise mar your evening. Does that make sense? I've had so many of those "OHMYGOD, horrible thing happened, my evening is irreparably broken" moments. I have a genetic digestive disease which makes "I just shit myself" more than an occasional rarity, and I manage it well, but if you have to wash out your underwear in the sink at the symphony after you've crapped behind bushes in the park - you know from mortification. My POINT here, is that if I can give somebody a suggestion for some way that an upsetting situation can be avoided by taking appropriate precautions, I will. And the row of cubicles, and the horse-like kneeling bench in the big cubicle, which is a good one - and the sling, and the cage with its honor-bondage restraints, and I'm telling him about the guy I had up in them just an hour ago, how I spanked his ass and then worked it open with my fingers, how I held my hands over his mouth and nose until he gasped for breath, and then put him in a sleeper hold and knocked him fully unconscious, so that he hung from the restraints and twitched. I know, it's another post - but I was literally telling him all these stories, so it ties back. 

When we get all the way through, I tell him that's all I've got to show him; I hope he has fun! And... would you like to get your dick sucked? 

He's probably close to my age, plenty of salt in his pepper pot, hairy, with a nice dick... he kind of reminds me of a therapist my Husband and I went to see. Not the dick part, just the face part. We didn't see that therapist in a lookit-my-dick sort of way. Anyway. He says yes, and I take him back to my room. I have him lie back on a towel - this is a smart new realization, that a fresh dry towel over the getting-fucked-most-often part of the bed, is smart... so now I'll need THREE when I get in. :sigh: And... I suck his dick. It's got a very penisy smell, he's cut but it definitely smells like cock, and I spend some time rolling my mustache around the head to pick up the smell. I don't tell him that it's joining the smell from where I did the same thing with my own dick when I got undressed. Pit funk on the cheeks, with the hairbrush through the pit fur and then brushing into the beard... dick funk on the mustache and in the nostrils. WOW. I'm high on my own pheromones. It tends to make me aggressive, being able to smell myself. And, I'm that way already here. So... it gets kinda intense. 

I go down on him... and go DOWN on him, swallowing his cock in my throat and massaging it with the back of my tongue while the top tickles his perineum - then I pull off, and suction both his nuts into my mouth, leaving them dripping with slippery drool. I rub it on his asshole, and he lets me play inside just a little bit, but he wants only a moderate amount of that. Roger - I am nothing if not adjustable. I'm here to facilitate you having a good time; please let me know what would give you the most sensations that you want. He tells me less deep, and that's certainly a request I know how to manage; I place a hand so that it blocks me going all the way down on him, and it's just like I'm working on slightly less dick. Think of it like a bumper, one of those things that keep the door from banging the wall. You can set how deep you go, by how you arrange yourself. I work with just the first four or so inches of his cock, massaging it with my tongue against the soft palate, but never putting it behind the tonsils. I hum, and blow slobber, and suck, and he shivers appreciatively. I spit slobber into my hands and slime up his balls and thighs and perineum, just kind of massaging it like he's drenched in lube as I suck. He seems to enjoy this, but it's clear he's not seeing his orgasm coming over the hill, and I take a break and get some water, and check in with him, and we both need a shower, because he's drenched in drool to his knees, and my beard has so much slobber in it I squeegee it out with my fingers and show him. He's... less impressed with that stuff than I am. He doesn't offer any opinion about it being gross, it just looks like he's unsure if he finds it hot. And I totally get that - a lot of guys equate the gagging and throat-spasming and slime with vomiting, and that's a thing that turns them off. Of course. Vomit turns ME off, if it doesn't instantly wash down the drain, or otherwise stay far enough from my face that I don't smell it. I have kissed a boy with barf on his lips, but I figure he got that way from deepthroating my cock, AND then he let me take him to the shower and finish the job... but, see, that's not about the vomit. That's about the vomitING. It's the sensation. There has to be the right combination of sensory things. The vomit has to be not gross, and I have to be able to wash it away instantly, and the boy has to be into both me and this experience in an intense way, and we both know he'll be more docile and more able to serve, after this cleansing. BUT I DIGRESS. Sorry, guys... lots on my mind. But - 

After the shower, I walk a lap outside, and then a lap through the maze. There's not much going on except for on one side, and there's a boy there lying with his legs up in the sling. He's cute. Then, I recognize him and the man standing between his thighs; it's the pair of out-of-town otters. They're fun and sexy, but I definitely got the "Yes, you're fun to talk to; no, we don't want to touch you" vibe from them, and we had sat and chatted about neurospiciness and getting along in the gay world. So, I stand nearby and just enjoy watching their fuck, not getting in the way.  

In the corner with the bench, there's an older guy fisting a younger guy... and, I don't mean any unkindness and he seems nice... but he isn't giving that ass the attention it deserves. I watch more closely, and realize he's not fisting him, he's playing with a toy. Anyway... I watch that, and although I know it's really not my business what two consenting adults are doing - I want that ass. No offense intended - but I want to give that jiggly well-shaped butt the prancing dressage fist fuck it looks perfectly capable of receiving. So... I do a not-so-nice thing. 

I don't push. I don't say anything; I just stand in such a way, that it makes it clear that I'm up next. I'm watching; you do your thing. I'm never at all rude or pushy, I just stand on queue, I'm in make-ready, prepared to hit my mark when it's my turn. I'm the front of the line. But, at the same time, there's a kind of "Hmm... are you, you know... going somewhere with this?" aspect of it, that I know is intimidating. I'm making faces at the bottom... and occasionally I look at the top like I have notes. As I'm standing there, thinking about this -- well, of COURSE my dick gets... not hard, but plump. There's a thing that horses do; they're not quite getting an erection, they're just plumping the sausage so that it flops out of the sheath... and everybody can smell your dick. You make SURE everybody can smell your dick. It's sexual competitive aggression, and a lot of guys get intimidated. He does, and he kind of just bows out, and I step forward and put my hand on the guy's shoulder. 

I say hi, and ask if I can join in; he has a toy with him, and he puts it on a shelf in front of him as I gently massage his hole with a couple of spit-slicked fingers. "If I'm gonna get hard enough to fuck, I could really use some oral attention, do you by any chance also suck dick?" And, FUCK ME, this guy just kneels down and WHOMP, he's got my cock behind his tonsils, strumming it up and down, gagging, we are... good to go. Umm, holy fuck. I invite him back to my room. I tell him a little about how it's configured - how NO IS A PERFECT ANSWER for any of the stuff he sees, how I can make video, or not, and how I would love to write about this, if he's up for it. I usually wait and ask after, but it seems right with him in the moment. We have a little conversation, about how he feels kink is sex as art, and I really love that phrase - and I explain that to me, kinky is something that turns ME on, that turns a lot of guys off. Like the sound of retching. If I know he's not puking? TOTAL BONER. Behind the dumpster of an Oak Lawn bar late one night? Yeah... OMG. [see also: Starstruck]. SPEAKING of boys who need to get on my dick, you there that boy... you need to get on my dick again one of these days. See to it. 

Anyway. You get to see a lot of this one evolve as it happens, which I think is cool. I love the ones where you hear the negotiations and the conversations AROUND the sex, as the sex is going on, and it's ALL the fun hot part.  This guy and I are very sympatico. We take a very psychodrama, meta-sexual approach to the play, reveling both in the sensations and in the curiosity, the interaction and the quick building of trust. You've got to trust somebody to let them fist you. You can navigate the negotiations that lead to that particular trust, quite quickly; it's a skillset. I call it the Dominant's Pendulum. You take him back and forth, from the scary place where he can't breathe, to the safe place where Daddy's got you. Daddy's. Got. You. Just relax. You'll be OK, kiddo. College seems to be treating you well.... things haven't felt the same since you've been gone. 

So, once he's done his job and gotten my cock nice and hard... it's time to fuck his ass. I put him on the edge of the bed, his ass hanging over and open, ready for my cock. And I get that he might be into choking, so I ASK... this is important... I always ask, about choking. 

Y'all, if that's not a fucking PINK MS PIGGY giving me a blowjob.... it looks like I'm irrumating a magenta Ms. PacMan. HOLY FUCK that's hot. I saw a guy say that in a porn clip - "Show me how that pussy chew" - and it kind of stuck in my brain. I'm using it more and more. It looks so fucking hot, but it FEELS even better. Bottoms, this is a thing I really recommend. Blow your top's everloving mind. Be the cockmilker everybody wants to finish inside. DO YOUR KEGELS. 

I spank his chest, and we have a conversation about having fun. I walk through how the spanks stimulate the fight-or-flight system. And then I put him back on his knees. I have a particular favorite, when I'm getting my cock hard - the sucking motion that pulls blood into the corpuses spongiosum and cavernosum... and I ask him how rough he likes his dirty talk. I tell him he can tap out if the dirty talk goes too far. It's a good way to handle it, for me. This one gets deep, but this entry is already a tome, so I'm gonna let you watch it, instead of writing you a transcript. Suffice it to say, what I want said, I'm saying with my voice. As I'm fucking his throat. There's age play incest talk in here. It's important to understand that this is not the same as wanting to commit incest - this is often a way to PROCESS incest. 

And then... I put my hand back in his butt. 

And then there's more fisting, and a quick trip to Jack in the Box. 

And then, I learn what his profile means by "demigenital." He coined it to mirror "demigender," - and, I feel like if I'm going to do the things that make the Republicans shake in anger but then secretly touch themselves later... I might as well do them ALL. So... he makes a tucking motion, and his cock goes up inside; it looks not quite like a pussy, but like definitely a skin-hemmed hole in the right place. It has pussy vibes. I fuck it. You know... I figure either we're going to get Democracy jump-started by an uprising of the people before the authoritarian regime cements its grip on the handles of power, or I'm gonna be up against the wall for a VAST number of my misdemeanors against the Republic of Gilead's sacred but somehow vague and not really quantifiable dignity..... so I might as well go gender-fuckery at the same time. 

And then, some more fisting, now with extra pussy chew. Pussy CHOMP. 

And this last bit... is just a parlor trick. It's unpleasant for the bottom, it hurts, and you feel like you can't get air, only DICK... and just like laughing with my hand inside him, coughing with my cock in his throat feels AWESOME... and, um, yes, please. I would like some more, please. As I say again and again... whatever god of hard gay cock I have pleased with my offerings, THANK YOU. And... if I'm gonna get "disappeared" to the People's Glorious Labor Camp for being a pervert... I'm goanna BE a fucking pervert. 

With consent. 

And craftsmanship, and scholarship, and good solid science, backed up by walking this stuff by reputable doctors and scientists. Results-based research supported by the CDC, before they became pawns of the Idiocracy. Seriously, I message a certain hospitalist physician, when I'm trying to figure out something like the gag slime mechanism. I talk with my therapist, and sometimes he talks to the guys who write the books about this stuff, when I'm talking about psychodrama and embodiment. I'm going at this as a high-minded, heart-centered, yet also crotch-centered experience. I want to blow your mind as well as your load.

And a firm belief that, like Dossie Easton and Janet Hardie say, "Sex is Nice and Pleasure is Good For You." If you're into them, I have a whole post. [see also: Kinky Book Club]

And treating people like fucking human beings, even if I'm doing an inhumane scene.

So, yeah, all the things the Republicans hate.

And I feel like, if nothing else, I can make for some DAMNED uncomfortable television, because I know how to talk to a camera a little. 

So, my stuff falls SQUARELY on the side of containing content other than that specifically intended for a prurient interest - there's genuine anatomy and physiology, there's storytelling, there's therapy discussions. If you want to say it's just filth and try to put me in jail, I'm going to read entire entries to someone from a television station, and there's biography, and there's literary references, and there's a warm and human-centered core of interest in being safely and humanely pleasurable with one another. It's why I like meeting strangers in a place I feel comfortable, so that I can relax and allow the majority of my processing power to go toward working through sensations with that person, getting to know them and taking them on a journey. 

There are two more amazing fucks in this marathon evening - one that I did not get consent to write about, but I will say that I got to breed in the sling after splattering semen on his face. And then went for another round. That's nothing about him. "These are the things TAK did." 

The next, is with the amazingly handsome Pup Champ. I fucked him before, [see also: SO Much Suck]. It starts in the double-side video room in the side maze - he's here with another guy, who's sucking his dick. I lean over and suck it myself some after the other guy, and play with his hole a little. I stand up, and put my hand in his mouth. The guy who's playing with his ass eventually gets him open enough to fuck him while I'm shoving his head down on my cock. We don't get to do a lot of the Telegraph Game that I love, where I relay the gag signal from his throat to the dick in his hole, using his spine like a telegraph line, sending electric potentials across cell membranes - but he does get to feel it once. It's an insane feeling, when you get really in tune sharing a bottom. After a while, though, the position gets kind of awkward, and Champ says he'd really rather go over to the sling. 

Yeah, that same sling that the otters were fucking in earlier. So FUCK YES, I will... Champ looks like he's been working out and eating right; he's got a beautiful mahogany tan, and he's a lot more solid than when I saw him last. He's growing stronger. I stroke my hands over his body, praising his hard work, telling him how beautiful his submission is to me, as I'm holding his nose and mouth with the fingers of one hand, like I did earlier in the night - I'm gonna coin another word - that's the Facefucker. It's like a Facehugger, but you're fucked. The thing is, if you play this game of pass-out chicken really hard... you pass out. So I take him pretty close once or twice, but mostly just enjoy railing his ass so hard the whole frame shakes. The chains are rattling and knocking into the moving uprights. At some point, a piece of wall stuff, like a chunk of unsecured plywood, falls off a wall across the room. And I'm Just Pounding Into His Ass, again and again. I have another round of spasms, although almost nothing comes out - he's disappointed, as an intense cum pig, but I had an amazing time and want to fuck him again when it's six and not ten. I pull out, and continue playing with his prostate while I stroke his cock. I back off, and let the next guy have a turn. It's that kind of night, and I'm exhausted, and it's time to get showered, get dressed, and go home.