Substitute Player Part 1

There's a guy I met a few years ago. He's an attractive young Black man, enough smaller than me that he comes up past my shoulder, but doesn't look me in the eye. He and I started a conversation on Scruff that evolved into him introducing me to race play. It's a complicated subject - it's impossible to start from a position of equity, because of the history of American chattel slavery, and at first it felt like a game I shouldn't play - but the more he talked about how he feels about it, how it allows him to explore feelings in a role-playing, psychodrama space that he can't address in his daily life, the more it became a conversation I could engage in. We all have things in our past that contribute to our personal twists and kinks; if I look honestly at most of my own personal perversions, I can trace the germ of them back to some childhood injury, adolescent trauma, or prior relationship obsession. As you bend the twig, so grows the tree. I'm not claiming that he seduced or corrupted me, but he opened my mind to this particular kind of scene, and he and I have had a bunch of conversations about it. 

I met him once. I walked from the bars to his nearby apartment. I wanted to check him out. We walked around his block. I reached down the back of his shorts and fingered his ass; he put his hands into my jeans and stroked my cock. I smacked his ass hard with an open hand. We kissed a little. I choked him a little up against a brick fence pillar. Then I went on my way. This is the sum total of in-person interaction we've had - but he's sent me a lot of little videos of him doing various sexual things, and often explaining to me how he feels about them. 

He finally decided a couple of months ago, that he's in a place where he can meet me out at the bath house. I'm excited for this opportunity; he's not only beautiful, but he's so enthusiastic that it turns me on to talk about meeting up. We talked a lot. We discussed, as one does, hard limits, preferences, and favorite techniques. We negotiated. 

On the day he's supposed to be meeting me, after a bunch more enthusiastic back and forth... he cancels. He's dating this guy, and although the guy understands his kink and is OK with him playing, it's just not a good idea for him to meet up, with me, right now. I get it; this kind of play can be really divisive, and I don't want to fuck up his relationship. But I'm left feeling more than a little bit like Charlie Brown after Lucy yanks the football out from in front of his foot. I'm frustrated, let down. 

I message another guy I've played with a few times at parties - I call him DeMarcus. [see also: Remarkable, Racy] He's also into race play, although his is a little different - more intellectual, less visceral. He's also built like a petite but elegant brick shithouse. He and I have some history of trying and failing to meet up, too - but this time, he agrees that he wants to make it happen, although he's right at the end of this paycheck, and can't. Just in case you're curious, the price to get somebody a single-day pass and a locker, is thirty-two bucks on a weekday. So I have to meet him up front and pay his way in, but it has to happen at the same time as when they're doing his ID check... so I arrange to meet him at six at the desk, and I head to the Club with a wicked twinkle in my eye, ready for a fun evening. 

He messages me a little before the time he said he would arrive; he's having trouble with his make-ready. I have always been as understanding as possible about this - I'd much rather have a boy be clean, than be prompt and messy. I get it. I've had the same problem myself some times. So, it's going to be a little later. And then he stops responding for a bit. 

Part of me says, "Hey, he's in the shower, he's dealing with a difficult cleanout, he'll get back to you." But prior experience says that he might have fallen asleep - he did it once before, and didn't message me until the day after. I remain cautiously optimistic - but I also let him know that I'm going to take a walk, and I'll check my phone in a while and see what's up. And if he's in the shower with a hose up his ass, he's serious about showing up... so I school my soul in patience and wait. I mean, it's just ten minutes after when I was expecting him; he'll be here 6:10. No worries. So, I kill a few minutes... and then an update that he's finally getting his Uber pickup, and he's on his way. ETA 6:26. Oh, nice. So, I've got half an hour. I'm gonna go start some shit. I haven't taken a lap yet, because I've been uncertain when he's showing up, but now I have a framework, and a lot of dick can be sucked in half an hour.  

Walking down the hall, I run into Real Daddy Steve [see also: The Way to a Man's Heart (Is Up His Ass) part 1, also Peristalsis, Daddy Sandwich] Steve is a sweet, kind, hot married-to-a-woman father, who comes here for some tension release. I suck his cock every chance I get. Not only is he a super nice guy and very sensual, he's got an eight inch dick nearly as thick as my wrist. Yes, please, Daddy. He pushes a submissive button for me, and in some ways (and I've talked with him about this) he has a connectedness and warmth to him that I missed in my own Dad (see also: our childhood fucks us up) and I kind of worship fatherhood and masculinity as concepts embodied in his broad-shouldered big-dicked body. There is something different about a man who's raised kids; you know he's got potent sperm that have done the job, but you also know he's had to bandage owies and teach kids to ride a bike, and been scared and proud when he let go. Midnight conversations with broken-hearted teenagers. There's a big difference between fatherhood, and daddyhood (in the "Woof, Daddy" sense). It's in the same direction, though. That ability to create a safe space for somebody to be vulnerable and make the loud noise and take it further than he ever has before... it's that same capacity to support another person through a challenging situation. It's a particular kind of caring. 

I tell Steve about the situation - about the hot guy that I've fucked at a couple of parties, who wants to be my submissive boy for the whole evening... but isn't showing up for another half hour. See, there's this thing with me and Steve - I kind of finish his night. I don't intend to - but I tend to kind of wring his washcloth, and once we're done, he showers up and goes home. One fun time in particular, he just one-handed his softening cock into his already-dressed-and-ready-to-go shorts and zipped up and went home with my saliva on his cock. I mean, of COURSE I cleaned him up, but you know, you can't get it completely non-moist without using the towel... and his glistening cock disappearing into his shorts to go home to his wife, had really turned me on. Yes, please, Real Daddy Steve, would you like to come to my room? I explain to him that I'm waiting for this buddy, and the buddy's complicating factor, and then I pull up some pictures on my phone, and a video of DeMarcus sucking my cock and delivering a full-mouthed treatise on why he finds race play compelling... I'll ask him how he feels about me posting parts of it. I won't post the whole thing on here - because even though this whole conversation has to do with subverting hate language for sexual pleasure, I don't want that quoted out of context, or snagged in search engines, or whatever. I am already starting to foresee a future in which I end up in some Republican gulag because my horrible sodomy has come to light in their efforts to outlaw pleasure and anything not White, Uptight, and Super-Right... and I want to limit in certain cases the ammunition they are given. You know there are bills being proposed now... out of the house, but it'll never pass the Senate - to outlaw pornography and make it a felony to be involved in the production or manufacture, etc., and you KNOW the guys driving the unmarked vans don't give a shit about human rights. Maybe they'll put me in that big horrible prison with all those nasty, brutish, violent men. Haaaaaay, Papi. I can suck a golf ball through a garden hose; you take care of me, and I'll take care of you. 

Well. That went kind of south. Anyway... Real Daddy Steve, for the first time, says OK when I ask if I can take some video of me sucking his beautiful cock. I lay him back on the bed and kneel beside it, and he picks up my camera, and I ask if he knows how to work this Samsung, and he says yah, push this button... and so I figure he's got it, and I go to town. I suck that dick. I slurp on it, and gag on it, and make so much drool that it's running down and puddling in the hollow made by where his nuts are stretched out with two black rubber stretchers that match his cockring. I go down and stay down; I beg for mercy and suck in and breathe around as much of it as I can possibly fit, giving that sucking vacuum sensation to the head of his cock. I know how to make Steve cum; but I'm teaching him how to go further with it, and he's just fucking beautiful learning this stuff. It's like watching somebody who REALLY gets into music. Or somebody who gets really, really into their food. The time when we did this before, which was back in January, was the first time anyone had done anything at all like that to him, and he was shining in it for whole minutes after the shaking of his prolonged orgasm finally stopped. So... I don't have an hour, but I have a half hour. Game ON, Steve. Ready, Player One. I use some of the voluminous slimy spit, rubbing around his hole and then slowly entering him with that single finger. He tells me he didn't prepare for this - and I'm fine with that, and he's fine, he's a healthy man and his ass is just fine, even if I bumped into a turd once, and thought, "Hey, I'm finger-banging the next best thing to a straight man... these are the risks you take to ride this ride." And, as anyone who's done enough assplay will know, there's a significant and important difference between "I bumped into a turd in his ass," and "I got shit on my finger." It sounds gross, but it's all kind of coated and lubricated with mucus by that point, unless you're DEEP in, and that's a whole different kind of cleanout. But if you're fingering some guy with good digestion and cleanly bowel habits... you won't usually get a gross finger. Not unless you go deep. Playing with the prostate is in the little vestibule of the rectum; you have to reach further up and open the second hole, to get into the danger zone, and there's a lot less fun-to-fondle anatomy up there. 

So, I'm playing with his prostate, swiping my middle finger-tip back and forth across the two lobes, drawing around it, stroking down the middle and drawing dots on it... while I'm sucking. And sucking. And going all the way down on, and eating pussy with, his big beautiful cock. He starts to get close... and I pause, and remind him, about pulling that energy up. Pushing it up from his groin, up through the rainbow of the chakras, up to the brilliant sparkling discharge at the crown. As I suck, and my right hand is moving inside him, my left is stroking up from his groin to his belly to his chest, throat, face, forehead, crown.... which I run my short-nailed nails through his thick blond-gone-silvery hair, so the sensation is like little tracks crossing and repeating. He gets close, and I pull off his cock and nibble on his thighs, one after another, and then suck his nutsack whole into my mouth so that I'm looking up at him while slowly popping the two stretcher bands in and out of my lips. Bloop. Bloop... nutsack. The two stretchers have made his nuts such a tidy package, it's kind of like the shape of the prostate... the two lobes, the joint between... and I run my tongue down the seam between his left and right, the raphe, and I run my tongue back and forth across his perineum behind the rings while I've got his balls in my throat. Um, Wow. INTERESTING. Of course I gag, and his balls pop out of my mouth with a loud splorching noise.  He's been picking up and putting down the camera the whole time... he'll get so absorbed he lays it down, and then he picks it back up and records a little bit more. And I'm stroking his cock with an amazingly slimy hand as I'm slobbering his balls with the back of my tongue, and he gets close. I pause. I stroke my hands over his body, visualizing spreading that energy like cake frosting over his torso, his face, his hands and feet. Spread it everywhere. Here, put your heels on my shoulders, and pull yourself up... this takes a couple of tries, but he gets it, and it makes his mouth a little O of surprise and pleasure when I start massaging his prostate, which he's just basically shoved from the other side of the wall. 

I need to make a prostate model. Because the ones they have for teaching doctors to feel inside a butt... don't do what I want to do. I want something that allows you to demonstrate technique, with the understanding that you'll be doing this with your fingers where you can't see them. Once you really understand all that anatomy, you can do some AMAZING things. Like, for instance, what I'm doing to Real Daddy Steve. Each time, the pause allows him to reset a little; I keep doing something, but I shift what I'm doing. I do something distracting. I ask him a question or something. And he starts the next round, kind of already at the plateau. You get to go higher with this kind of sex. It's really a thing of its own, sui generis. And so I have decided that we're probably about as high as he's gonna go... and so I start to deepthroat his cock again, gagging on it, massaging it with tongue and larynx. I can feel the boluses of precum that I squeeze up his cock, as I stroke my tongue from the root of his cock to the head. It's all the way down my throat, and he's finally gotten comfortable holding the back of my head and fucking into my throat. I begin to finger-fuck his hole, and add a second finger. He says, "Oh, my god, is this the thing all along? I'm a bottom?" and we laugh, and without breaking stroke, we have a little conversation - I really don't feel like enjoying your prostate, really determines top or bottom... he may be the one with fingers in his ass, but I'm DEFINITELY bottoming for Steve. I am serving his body and giving him as much pleasure as I possibly can (well, within the time allotted). 

He starts to shake in earnest. Some of it is spasmodic, almost like a localized cramp or a sharp twitch, but most of it is just a kind of overall tremble, kind of like what you get when you've run or swam a long way and you stop, and your legs just shake. He's shaking. I tell him, take deep breaths... and then when you get to where you're about to cum, you squeeze your torso. Squeeze your asshole. Squeeze your face and your shoulders and your toes... you hold on really tight, and then relax. He shakes some more, and I feel the distinct sensation of ejaculation - I feel his prostate spasm, almost like it hiccups, and then I literally feel the cum stroke my tongue from one end to the other. And direct down my throat. And... I keep going. And he keeps going. I taught him this, last time. He keeps fucking. I keep pounding his prostate, hammering it with two stiff fingers in the same rhythm as his strokes. It's like his fuck fucks himself. It works with the way the muscles contract. And he starts to cum for real. He grips my skull and just holds on and shoves, and his cock is literally making my trachea creak... like, it makes a sound that you feel inside your head, like when your teeth grind, and it's weird as fuck. You can feel it, if you put your hand on a guy's throat and fuck just right. And he cums... and he cums... and I cough, the hard gag bringing the cum up my throat and.... out my mouth and nose. And now... I've done the fucking Alaska Fire Dragon from the Dirty Sanchez List. If you're old, like me, you remember when you used to have to access a listserv majordomo by sending code in text message emails to it... you had to follow all these protocols, because it was basically just you sending a computer language code to a server. ANYWAY. You would see these things pass around on listservs, and one of them was the Dirty Sanchez List, and it's a list of all these things that guys are supposed to do to women, and most of them sound either impossible or extremely unlikely. But then, when you become a serious slut, you find yourself checking off items on the list. 

So, he doesn't need to say anything shocking, but that's definitely jizz coming out of my nose. I point it out to him, laughing... you know you've been thoroughly throat-fucked, WHEN... 

He asks me about the brand of vape pen I get (they're Hidden Hills, although I'm not sure if I'm their market demographic....) I say, hey, it's a gift... you've given me a lot of pleasure. I have enjoyed you immensely. You're a nice guy. It's like fifteen bucks; it's not a big deal. I bought you a drink. He counters, no, you've given me so much pleasure... it should be me giving you a gift. I say, "Well, if you'd like to get down and suck my cock for a little bit, I sure wouldn't object..." and so, he does that. And I take a video, which I have promised I won't post on here without his permission, but I'll ask again later for permission... maybe like, that can be the discussion for the next-to-last sexual pause, for that plateau where you're wired for sound and everything is turned up to eleven, and you're about to cum, you say something like, "Oh, by the way, this is live streaming; I hope that's OK." But... it's safe to say, I'm going to spend some time masturbating to video of hot Real Daddy Steve choking on my cock. He's got a dad bod, but it's a goes-to-the-gym, coaches-socccer dad bod. He's solid and strong. His round muscular ass flexes as he crouches on his heels. He notices it in the door mirror behind him, and says that he never really notices his own ass. 

I kind of want to fuck him. 

I definitely want him to fuck me. 

This thing we have with the throat fucking and the prostate massaging and the Kundalini rainbow... it's a good thing. I have zero complaints. He is spectacular during the whole thing - it's like watching someone having their first orgasm, but for a couple of minutes. The one thing, however, that I need to remember - he learns best by doing. He was much better at finding my prostate when I had my fingers inside him showing him what part he's feeling inside me. And, I think he will be much better if I sit shoulder-to-shoulder with him and show him how my phone works. 

He was taking still photos. So... you get to see me, and Real Daddy Steve's beautiful penis playing "Now You See It...." But I would really love a video where you actually hear and see from the waist down what he's going through... because he's holding the camera, he's in control of what the lens sees. But I would love to get it in actual video. Maybe this was, you know, a dress rehearsal. 

I shower. I get fresh towels, and I wander around to kill some time. 

And this is going to have to be one of the posts with two parts - because the second part is just too big to cram in here.