I made up my mind to travel the cocktrail for as much as possible during the weekend, eventhough I wasn't able to make Treasure Island Media's play party at the new playspace on Friday night, I did my best to make up for it by Saturday morning. I got a bite on barebackrt around 8 a.m., Saturday, from a poz businessman staying at one of the finer hotels downtown...he was in town on business and his business wasn't Folsom. There was a little too much banter between us and I got the feeling he was going to reveal himself as a Chatty Matty and nothing would come of it, especially when he asked me what I was going to do to deserve his load. This was pretty chatty, wouldn't you say? I wrote him that I had a jar of cum in the fridge and I would inject myself with cum before coming over...did he like it cumsloppy or super cumsloppy? He mailed me back his room number and I was I on my way...his hotel is about a 10 minute walk from my apartment. So fast that I couldn't get the cum jar defrosted so I took the whole goddamned jar with me.
I really don't prefer sex in elegant surroundings, for myself or for porn...Christian getting fucked on fine English furniture in a high class hotel sort of messes it up for me despite Christian's porn magnificence and his hard-working tops. So you can imagine me walking into this nicely decorated room with a lot of thought behind every detail. Nothing impulsive ever happens in a room like that.
Fortunately, the gent was from the Middle West and had been to Texas on business and I spied two pair of cowboy dress boots, one black and one brown. The cowboy thing brought things down a bit, making it a little sexier.
I let the tops call the shots, and this man knew what he wanted. He wanted me to keep my head still while he fucked my throat. I kept it perfectly still just like he wanted and did the best I can: I'm not a great cocksucker; I don't really care to have my cock sucked, I can't cum that way, so it never really interested me, cocksucking that is. But the top is the man, and I guess I did OK; he seemed to like it. He asked me about the cum, which had defrosted by this time, so I showed him how I fill myself up using the dollar store plastic injector. This really interested him and he asked me a lot of questions about the cum, but without killing the mood.
How many loads are in there? I said about 30 or 40, but some of it is mine...which is true.
How much of that is poz cum? I said, well, probably most of it, I'm into poz cum but I don't turn down a load that's not charged.
Any black guys' cum? Oh hell yeah. For some reason, black guys dig my ass. I don't necessarily chase them, but they find me...and I try to make it as easy as possible.
Are the black guys' poz, too? Oh hell yeah, come on!
Chatty Matty.
I injected a couple of ounces, making my hole nice and sloppy.
He pushed his dick into my ass, and wham! I could tell the dude was turned on so like he couldn't stand it...and he didn't for very long.
A few strokes, some squishy, slurpy belches from my hole and wham! he shot his load.
It was all very hot because I like being on my back and watching the top's facial expressions. His were great, expressive, honest.
That was awesome, man, I said.
This was a first for him, I could tell.
Don't forget your cum, he said, motioning to the jar on the desk.
I grabbed the jar, put it on the floor, squatted over it and dumped his load into the jar, then swished the jar around to help mix his poz-ness with everybody else's, black guys, white guys, latin guys, my own poz donations.
Well, thanks for coming over, he said. I gotta get ready for a meeting, I was able to switch appoints around to make time for this.
Well, thanks, I said, getting my clothes on...not a bum's rush, as I was eager to get a move on myself, after all, it was Folsom.
I made sure not to forget the jar.
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