Tag Team Bottoming at the Cockpit Party at Mack

Men, readers of this blog already know that Mack doesn't really work for me...it should, but alas, it doesn't. For readers who don't know what Mack is: it's a sex club on Folsom St. and probably the only game in town for skin on skin mansex. Officially, bareback sex doesn't happen here, and the management provides condom dispensers in all the play areas for those who want them. Last night, though, Mack was closed for a private party hosted by the guys at Cockpit, which is related to Treasure Island Media, whose 'corporate offices' (yeah this is a multi-million dollar industry) are located just around the corner.
Mack doesn't work well for me because it's mostly about having sex standing up and with your shoes on. There are 3 or 4 sling rooms, a couple of bunks, a bath tub for piss aficionados, and encounter areas on platforms which must be reached by ladders.
Having been here not that long ago (read the January blog post), I went straight to the bunk looking to stake myself some cum dump real estate...but shit, a hot daddy was already there...and he was a big daddy, maybe 6-4 and these guys take up a lot of space. Dad was butt up on all fours, and he did have a gorgeous flawless ass (I guess Dad is about 50) with a little pink (tight?) hole. And he was built(!) but with big shoulders, the tell tale pockmarks of steroid use on his back, a 'Crix' belly and a Viagra-fueled rock hard dick. And dare I say, hopefully...poz. I wedged myself into what space was left, hoping to entice tops into a tag team situation...the comingling of cum, buttjuices, spit and lube between a couple of poz bottoms is a great way to spread the seed and its strains. And that is exactly what happened! Some tops started on my ass and then went to work on his, others fucked Dad and then switched over to my ass, giving me a bit of pre-cum, Dad's buttcanal water, cum and whatever else, I'll take it. I got those good, swishy, sloppy sounds after the first couple of injectors...which is great, because the Cockpit crowd is an older, more sophisticated, more experienced crowd...there's plenty of expert fucking but not necessarily a lot of loads. Who wants to cum early and leave early, unless he's got another date? I did feel one top's load, though...not the cum being shot into my ass but his change of pace when he slowed up, thrust his dick only part of the way into my cumbucket and then jolted a two pulse movement, slow and focused. By that time, my big hole which has the internal contours of hills and valleys, gripped that dick and it seemed to rest, momentarily between two ridges of ass magic, as that seed was spewed forth, more of a trickle than a blast...but I felt every swell of his dick. Then my butt muscles milked that boner best I could, before it popped out and the top disappeared into the crowd that had gathered. Neither the top nor I made so much as a grunt, but as he was leaving, I let go with a whisper, 'yeah.'
That was the only load of the night, as far as I could tell...I lost track of how many dicks ventured into my asshole...I always want more. Part of being a pig is that of being insatiable.
Cheap Thrills Dept: The Cockpit Parties are usually Thursday night affairs so it's mostly a hometown crowd, although my friends Kevin and Mike came up from SoCal...and the most notable out-of-towner was Dawson, who had arrived as I was getting ready to leave, around midnight. San Franciscans that we are, we all pretended not to notice, and the super megastar blended into the mass as just another guy lookin' to get laid. Little Trey from TIM's Bone Deep and several HDK videos, was also seen.
An aside: the Power Exchange is slated to move to its new venue at 220 Jones St. which is where the old Campus Theater, home to Scott O'Hara, Jim Bentley, Chris Burns and other greats from the pre-condom era, was located, but now there are problems because the neighbors are complaining. Although this is in the Tenderloin neighborhood, which San Francisco has zoned for this sort of business (to keep the rest of the city free from such dark-sided enterprises), evidently there is a day care center for Vietnamese immigrant children close by, which of course, won't do. So we'll see where this goes. I bring it up because the old Power Exchange on Otis St., where some Cockpit parties were held, works way better for me and other bottom sluts. Having said that, I'm anxious to see what they've done with 220 Jones. I don't think many kiddies are going to be around at midnight and bumping into bareback sluts in heat.