A lot of you seem to have had fun with the account of my encounter with Steve. It's surprised me how much of a turn-on it is to think of guys wanking and getting off to something you have written. So am encouraged to write something again, much sooner than I expected. All your comments have been making me so horny that I seem to have a constant hard-on at the moment so may as well try and write something while I am on a role!
Nothing worth writing about has happened in last couple of days, but I thought I might have a go at recounting something that happened about a year ago and has had a big and lasting impact on my sexual feelings. It was an intense sexual experience and not sure how good I will be at getting it across. Let me know if it does anything for you at Funtimedanny@hotmail.co.uk
Fuck, maybe I'm weird or something, but I've got a raging hard-on again just from starting to write and thinking about what I'm going to say. It's going to end up one- handed typing like last time!
Like I said, this happened about a year ago. I guess I am quite an average sort of Gay guy in terms of gets me horned up. There are some guys whose looks and demeanours turn me on more than others, but I like a wide range. Not keen on the extremes: really, really fat or really, really skinny and I suppose if I am honest I don't like really small cocks of under 3-4". But otherwise pretty broad range of attraction. Thinking about it, its more the sex itself that turns me on rather than just the looks. It's what actually happens between me and other guys that makes or breaks the experience, although there are some clothes and underwear that get me going a bit.
I also enjoy a broad range of sexual fun, at lots of different levels. The loving but still powerful sex my partner and I have after more than ten years is great. And we have some fun times together in threesomes and groups. But I also enjoy horny one-to-ones with other guys like I described with Steve. Sometimes I like going to saunas or sex parties with loads of sex, in groups and with different guys. There's a bit of an exhibitionist in me; especially when I am fucking someone, I like being watched by others. And a few times I have wanked in places where I know people are watching me and that also really turns me on. Sometimes I go mad for cock, I just want to be on my knees sucking dick, or wanking other guys' cocks, kissing them and so on. Although I tend more to be a top, I sometimes like being fucked hard -- I love that sensation when a big powerful cock is inside you and stroking your prostate to an ecstasy that goes on much longer than what you get just from spunking a load, good though that is. I quite enjoy entering into a role-play that turns the other person on and makes them wild for me, but have never particularly felt the need for a specific role myself and I'm not into the extreme dominant or submissive role or S and M.
So, what happened a year ago was quite unexpected. I discovered something deep inside me that I didn't know was there. And it's had a long-term impact on my sex life.
I was staying in London on business. I had fantasized a bit about the desk clerk at the hotel and even dropped a hint, but I knew those sorts of things only happened in stories. I was lying on my bed feeling horny and stroking myself a bit, but felt like more than a wank. You know what it's like. There are some times when wanking just doesn't feel enough. Trouble was, it was Monday and the sex club I sometimes go to when in London wasn't open. I didn't feel like going through the long rituals of picking someone up in a Gay bar or standing around in the cold in the cruising area I knew -- which was a bit unreliable anyway. There was another pub nearby, called Central Station that is a usual Gay pub upstairs, but has an 'underground' bar downstairs that caters for 'special interests', i.e. cruising and sex for people with different fetishes or desires. I had been a couple of times to their Thursday night session that was a fairly straightforward night of cruising and group sex in the back rooms. I wasn't sure what was on on a Monday, but decided to walk up and take a look.
I saw at the door that it was something called 'Dress Code Reduction'. You got a reduced entry if you were dressed in a variety of things like rubber, or leather, or as a skinhead, or in bottomless underwear. Otherwise you had to pay the full 5 pounds. Never been into leather, rubber etc particularly, although I can get turned on by guys dressed in it just because of what it says about their enjoyment of sex. Anyway I went down to the pay desk and cloakroom. You could see through a glass window in the door that there was a wide range of people in there: some just in underwear; one or two completely naked; some in uniforms of one kind or another; a scattering of leather, rubber and chains; and quite a few just in ordinary clothes. It seemed pretty horny and accepting of a wide variety, so I decided to go in.
I realised I had come out in jeans that I didn't really want to get spunk or anything else on, so given the variety of dress inside, I checked them in, together with my sweatshirt, so that I just had my trainers and socks on, my white CKs and a light blue T-shirt. I was quite pleased with the effect in the mirror -- I thought it made me look quite boyish and cute. Still, it wasn't enough for the reduction -- I had to pay the full entrance fee!
You entered directly into a bar area where people were drinking and chatting or watching the sex videos on the various screens that were dotted around. In one or two places guys were touching each other up a bit or kissing, but the main sex activity took place in other parts. Off to the left were the toilets where on a Thursday evening at least there were sometimes quite heavy sex scenes. Off to the right was an area where lots of smaller spaces and passages were created by cloth sheets hanging from the ceiling. Lots of sex there. Back from these were a couple of 'back rooms', one of which had a sling in the middle of it. All sorts went on in these.
I got a drink and people-watched for a while. A mix. Some really good looking guys, others more average, but looking pretty horny in their various get-ups. When there are videos on, I always feel my eyes drawn to them. Tonight they seemed mainly to be leather stuff, mild S and M, some domination scenes with groups of lads pissing and fucking guys who were pretending they were reluctant! I found I was absent mindedly stroking myself through my CKs. Like most of the guys I was at least semi-hard most of the time -- not sure if it was the videos or the expectation.
After a couple of drinks I started to explore the curtained area. There were more group sessions and actual anal fucking than I remembered there being on a Thursday. I wasn't ready to join in yet, but spent some time cruising around. There were some hot scenes that I watched and I got out my cock and wanked sometimes as I looked at the action.
One scene I remember was especially hot. There was a guy on his back on the floor his legs up in the air being fucked by a guy with leather straps all over him. It seems to me that quite often guys' cocks go limp when they are being fucked, but this guy had a huge boner that was being wanked by another guy kneeling next to them. A fourth guy was crouched over the man being fucked and getting his arse rimmed while he wanked and sucked off a fifth guy who was fully dressed with his cock out of his jeans. There were a couple of guys around standing back and wanking like me. Someone came up behind me and pushed my hand off my cock and started wanking it while I watched the mini-orgy in front of me. I ignored the guy playing with my dick, but enjoyed the sensations of his hand running up and down it. Then I felt him come round, kneel on the floor and start to suck me. I looked down briefly. An older guy in an open-collar shirt and trousers and his mouth was hot. He was alternatively sucking me and licking my balls and under to my arse, which I really like, so I let him enjoy himself on me while I watched the scene in front. The guy in leather straps withdrew, ripped off his rubber and spunked over the guy he had been fucking, just like in a porn movie. That, though, seemed a sort of signal to end the scene and it dissolved. I gently pulled the guy off my cock, bent down and kissed the top of his head in thanks and moved on.
In the sling room there was a guy in the sling, with his legs up in the air being fisted by a daddy-bear type in leather. It didn't do much for me really, but the periodic yells of real ecstasy every time his prostrate was rubbed was quite a turn-on,
By this time I was pretty horned up and ready to engage in some good randy sex. I entered the back room that didn't have the sling in it and stood against the wall. There were a couple of others stood around stroking their cocks and watching some guys in the middle of the room who were just all over each other. There were about six of them, all of them naked or just in underwear or leather chaps kissing, fucking, sucking, rimming. Just moving from one thing to another, following the sensations from one guy to another. It was all fluid, no one doing any one thing for very long. Someone would fuck someone for a few minutes then move his dick on to a waiting mouth and suck another cock stuck in his face. It was all bareback. Not for me, but fucking horny to watch. My cock was straining in my pants that were slightly wet from the saliva that had been on it when I had put it back inside them, but I didn't get it out and wank. Instead I started to stroke my tits through my T-shirt with one hand while deciding whether to approach one of the guys standing against the wall who had smiled at me a couple of times.
Then I became aware in my peripheral vision that someone was watching me. I turned slightly. Standing looking at me intently was a guy I had noticed earlier in the bar and registered because he was someone whose looks, clothes and demeanour did something for me. He looked European. Slightly tanned aquiline face with short black hair. Slim body but his T-shirt emphasised well-defined muscles. A firm bum encased in tight fitting jeans, long legs. Partly what made him stand out were his clothes. Most people were either naked, in underwear, costumed one way or another, or in old- looking clothes. He was in perfectly tailored stuff that looked 'designer'. >From his smart black shoes, to his body-tight dark jeans to his stretched white T-shirt. The other reason I had noticed him before was that he exuded confidence in the way he moved and looked. You just knew that he knew what he wanted and would go for it and not just get so horned up that he would go for anything. Whilst there was quite a lot of flirting and tentative touching up in the bar area, no one thought it appropriate to do that with him.
So I felt pretty flattered that he was obviously looking with some interest at me. I felt butterflies in my stomach and sort of weak at the knees, clichés I had never really felt in sexual situations before. And for some reason I couldn't quite look directly into his eyes. It had just been a few seconds of realising he was looking at me and I was suddenly worrying about whether I was good enough for him; and whether my cock would perform okay for him. I admit that I do sometimes get performance anxiety, but not at this stage, like this. And anyway, because of the action in front of me, I had a good firm and obvious hard on tenting out my CKs.
I found myself looking down as he approached me. I had completely forgotten anyone else in the room. He stood in front of me, close into my body space. I forced myself to look up and meet his eyes. They were really bright blue and looked directly into me. I couldn't read his face at all. Rather lamely I said
"Hi, I'm Danny."
He didn't reply, but reached out both hands and squeezed my nipples through my T- shirt. My whole body spasmed and my cock that had gone to half-mast jumped up to full alert. He didn't release my nipples, but squeezed again harder. The pain became more intense than I like. But for some reason I didn't say anything and felt compelled just to look into his eyes. He squeezed again. I said "ouch" in a tone that was normally sufficient to indicate to someone I was with that I didn't want it this hard and they would withdraw. He did release the pressure slightly and for a moment I was grateful, but then he squeezed again even harder and twisted them slightly too. I think I screamed slightly and tried to remove his hands.
"No," he said.
Slight accent I thought fleetingly as the pain increased. But I dropped my hands in obedience. A final excruciating twist and he suddenly let go. I was so grateful I almost sobbed. He pulled me into him and gave me a huge powerful hug. I clung onto him for a minute as I calmed down and then became conscious of the lines of his body pressed against me and my hardness grew again and pressed into him.
He pushed me gently away from him and back against the wall. I stood for a moment, arms loosely by my side, my erection roaring for some release, looking into his face that now seemed god-like handsome. Then his hands came up again to my nipples, still throbbing with slight soreness from before and he twisted them viciously. This time for some reason I gritted my teeth. I didn't want to disappoint him so he would leave. I wanted to have sex with this guy, real bad. But it became too much and eventually I raised my arms and tried to push him away.
"No." He shook his head. I half let my arms fall away and the pain seemed to go to another level where it was too bad to bear, but somehow became a heat that could be born.
After what seemed an eternity of twisting and squeezing my nips until they were raw, but was probably only a few moments he released me. The relief was so intense there were tears on my face. He brought a hand up and gently wiped them away and then hugged me again, squeezing me protectively into him. I began to feel looked after by him as well as a bit frightened by him. Strange mixture of feelings. I didn't want to risk whatever might happen next, so stayed hugged up against him, pulling his body hard into mine. I thought I felt the stirrings of a hard on through his trousers, but wasn't sure whether I should do anything about it. Then he took his arms from me, and used them to lever mine away from him and again gently pushed me against the wall. I think I was trembling, but I was half-conscious that my cock had pushed itself out of my pants and was rock hard and felt more swollen than ever before.
He stood there looking me slowly up and down. No smile. No expression, but each time he came to my face his eyes held mine for a few moments. I began to relax slightly and my cock did too coming back to a normal hard state. I was just wondering whether I should reach out and touch the outline of his cock that was now firmly defined in his jeans when he said
"Take off your shirt."
There was definitely an accent.
"Where are you from?" I asked.
He glared at me, suddenly looking annoyed.
"Take off your shirt," he repeated firmly with a slight trace of anger.
I definitely did not want to disappoint him or make him angry and struggled to get my T-shirt over my head as quickly as possible.
"And your pants."
I pulled them off slowly and stood there, T-shirt over my shoulder and my damp pants in one hand. I felt really vulnerable in his full gaze and a bit embarrassed -- ridiculous given what was going on around me. I was vaguely conscious that a few other guys had become aware of what was going on and were looking at us. Normally the part of me that it is a bit exhibitionist would have been turned on, but at this moment my only concern was for him. Everyone else was slightly out of focus.
He looked at me for what seemed an eternity. I just stood there, going slightly limp and beginning that damned blushing. I desperately wanted him to want me. I've never been a particular body-beautiful freak and like men in most shapes and varieties, but now, for the first time I can remember since my insecure teens, I wanted my body to be good enough for someone. I didn't have a six-pack, but my stomach was pretty firm, body fat pretty minimal. I had good strong legs from long-distance running. I felt myself, though, involuntarily tightening my abdominal muscles to try and appear as fit as possible for him. His gaze lingered all over me, like he was appraising a piece of furniture he might buy. Would he like the hair that covered the top part of my chest? If he didn't at least the rest of my body was fairly smooth except for the bush around my cock that I left full; except where I shaved right at the base of my cock and on my balls to make it better for anyone who sucked me. Not that I thought he was likely to do that.
All these thoughts were going through me as I waited for some sign of approval or rejection. He seemed to go on looking over me forever, though it was probably not very long.
"Turn around."
I turned and faced the wall. I could feel goose pimples on my back and on my bum and I think I started to blush even more, feeling his scrutiny.
"Okay, turn back."
I turned at looked at him, conscious now that there were a lot of people looking at me. I smiled tentatively at him. He didn't smile back. I suddenly felt pathetic and then:
"Nice, very nice"
He reached out with one hand and started to stroke my balls gently.
"I like my boys to have a good body."
I don't think I have ever felt as much pride as I did at that moment. Or love.
"But they also have to be prepared to go to the limit for me."
The stroking of my balls and the pride I had felt had brought my cock up to full, throbbing mast again, but now the stroking was replaced by a gentle squeezing. I knew what was going to happen. I knew the pressure would increase and I wouldn't be able to bear it. Pressure on my balls always creates an agony that is unbearable. I felt a panic rising. I was going to let him down.
He stopped increasing the pressure at a level that was not too uncomfortable and stood for a long time looking straight into my eyes. We both knew that he was going to squeeze more and I was trembling from the expectation that it would be excruciating and I would have to disappoint him, push him away from me and lose him. The longer we stood there the more my fear of letting myself and him down increased. I was beginning to hurt from imagining what the pain was going to be like before anything had happened.
Then it started. Very slowly, but I could not bear it. I gritted my teeth as I felt a mixture of acute ache and sharp stabs of pain around my balls. I really tried to hold it together. But I couldn't. After probably less than half a minute that seemed a lifetime, I was squirming to try and get away and began to bring my hand on to his to drag him off me. As I did he squeezed them really really hard for a second. I literally saw stars and screamed as he released me, grabbed my body and hugged me tight with one hand, the other stroking my hair back from my forehead.
I buried my head in his chest. I loved him for showing me a release from the pain and comforting me. And for allowing me to show I would go to the limit with him. And for showing me now how he could protect and comfort me. I wanted to give him pleasure. I began to let my hand drop down his back, pulled away slightly, brought my hand around and felt the enormous bulge in his jeans. I was turning him on. I was so excited and grateful that I could.
But he pushed me back against the wall again. But gently and I am sure it was lovingly and for my own good and our pleasure together. Even though a bit of me was already getting ready to be scared again.
He slowly unbuckled my belt. I looked expectantly at his bulging package, the loosening of the belt the first stage of freeing his big cock for my attention. And boy would I make him feel good, like none of his other boys had made him feel.
He must have read my mind because he shook his head slowly and instead of continuing to free his cock, he very slowly threaded out his belt until it was in his hand. I knew what he wanted to do. I could manage this for him.
"Turn around," he said very softly. I was vaguely aware that the action of unstrapping his belt had drawn attention and as I turned I saw quite a few guys, most naked or with their trousers and pants round their ankles, standing around looking at me. I didn't feel at all humiliated. I wanted to show them how I loved this guy. Somehow, almost in a trance, I knew what position to take. I was a couple of feet away from the wall. Instead of going up and leaning against it as before, I bent forward at the waist. I was still holding my pants in one hand and I brought them up to my forehead to provide some padding as I leaned my head against the wall, bent forward at about 45 degrees, my bum well exposed.
The first slap of the belt was gentle. I knew it would be. He cared for me. He knew how to build it up so I could go to the edge for him. They were slow in coming, but regular as a metronome. Each hit just slightly harder. It started to feel sexy, the streak of sensation across my arse cheeks and I found my hand stroking my powerful hard- on. The pain was getting sharper, but my stroking was getting faster and more urgent. I was lost in the pain and the building climax. They were intertwined and I loved him.
Without a pause in the rhythm he gently took my hand off my cock. It pulsed and throbbed as another thrash came down on me, but it couldn't quite cum and my senses began to fully realise the pain on my arse. I gritted my teeth for a couple of swipes, but I couldn't hold it even for him and I started to scream and turn.
He stopped hitting me. Just as I was almost facing him I felt a streak of spunk hit my stomach and another one and another one. Some guy watching us had just unloaded all over me. I looked into the serious face of my love and thought I almost detected the beginning of a smile as he looked at the spunk dripping down my stomach and on to my cock, now semi limp.
"Come with me," he said gently and held out his hand. I took it and bent to pick up my T-shirt that had at some point slipped to the floor and my pants that had fallen when moved my forehead from the wall.
"Just your pants. And carry them."
He led me from the back room and through the curtained area. Things were advanced everywhere as it was getting late and I saw flesh at every turn and heard grunts of people spunking, yells of one kind or another, the sound of someone being spanked. But I was largely oblivious of it until he led me into the much brighter lights of the bar area.
The bar area was more crowded than I had expected. He dropped my arm and told me to hold onto one of the belt loops on his trousers with my mouth. He gently slapped the belt rhythmically from one hand to the other as he walked very slowly right across the bar area with me bent sharply forward, my teeth in his belt loop, following meekly behind. Although people were variously attired and one or two part naked in the bar area, it was obvious to all that I belonged to the man leading me and I felt everyone was staring. I was proud. They were jealous, at least in my mind.
We seemed to take ages crossing the bar and into the toilets. The toilets consisted of one lock up and a long metal trough urinal. It was clear someone was getting fucked hard in the lock up. There was a guy just finishing a piss and another one watching him attentively and wanking. My man glared at both of them and without saying a word they looked at him, looked at me, and left.
I wasn't sure what would happen next. I just wanted to please him. Much to my surprise he took from his pocket some cream, made me lean over the washbasin and rubbed it into my bruised and stinging buttocks. He was really gentle, the cream was cooling and must have had an analgesic or something in it because the pain reduced immediately. He rubbed my back gently a couple of times. Then he turned me round.
"Are you mine?"
"Always," I whispered.
He started to unzip himself. This was going to be it. I found myself licking my lips, wanting so desperately to see him at last and pleasure him. But:
"Go and get us both a beer, I need to piss."
I started to protest. I wanted to watch him piss, or take his piss, or do whatever would join us together. He looked stern again and shook his head.
As I turned to leave, he said
"Leave your underpants here," and he held out his hand. I gave them to him and he gave me a 10 pound note. "Go and get the beers."
I walked back into the bar stark naked. Although there was one other naked guy there, I felt very conspicuous, but also proud because I was with him and he thought my body was good. I got us two beers and turned, leaning on the bar, to face the toilets and wait for him, the exhibitionist in me causing my cock to rise steadily again.
It seemed to be a long piss. I didn't dare take a sip of my beer, as I wasn't sure whether that would please my love.
Eventually he came out, looking as cool and sophisticated as when I had first spied him a couple of hours ago. His belt in was in place, his hair combed. Immaculate, except he was carrying my underpants a little away from his body. They were dripping with urine.
He was the sort of person people noticed, even without what he was carrying, so everyone in the bar began to follow him with their eyes. He came and stood next to me, close, in my space like he had done when he first approached me in the back room, noses a couple of inches apart.
"This is my way of marking you. Put them on."
He handed me the pants. I felt so proud that he was showing everyone with his piss how we were together. There seemed to be a collective holding of breath as I took them bent down and pulled the soaking pants up and over my bum and cock and felt the damp material press into my balls and arse crack.
I straightened.
"To the next time," he said as he raised his glass.
I was a bit slow joining him. It had just registered as my hands left my pants that there were thick globules of his man spunk on them as well as piss. No wonder it had taken a bit of time. I drank my beer thinking of my man wanking his big cock and cumming all over my pants just for me.
He downed the whole pint and slammed it on the bar while I was pausing after about half of it.
"Until next time," and he strode straight out of the bar. It took me a moment to realise what had happened. I wanted to shout no. To run after him or something. But I knew that would disappoint him and I wanted him to be pleased with me. For next time.
I finished my beer and gradually people around stopped staring and started chatting again. I could feel the cooling piss and spunk-soaked underpants clinging to my skin. And my cock was growing again. I needed to get my T-shirt and I had to get off; there was so much spunk churning around in my full balls after all this. My erection was so hard it was painful. But how could I do it without him. The climax was meant to be with him.
I wasn't terribly surprised when three of the guys who had been in the bar followed me into the back room. But if they thought they had a willing bottom or slave just because of what they had seen, well fuck them. They didn't understand.
But that wasn't what they had in mind. As I bent to pick up my T-shirt one of them slid to the floor beneath me and started to suck on the front of my pants, taking in the spunk and piss. The other two bent forward and started tugging at the back of my pants and licking and sucking them.
My cock grew even further and soon they were alternating around my pants alternatively taking in my lover's piss and spunk and sucking my arse and cock. Their hands variously ran around my legs and my chest and my back. I leaned back slightly, aware again of a number of people watching and wanking. I closed my eyes as I felt my lover's spunk and piss rubbing up and down my cock and balls and being pressed into my arse hole. That glorious feeling when you know you are going to go for it, built really slowly. I was on that spectacular edge of feeling just before you spunk for ages as I felt the middle of my body being massaged with his fluids and then, almost gently, I had an earth-shattering hugely long spunk into my pants, my cum mixing with his to the huge satisfaction of those still feeding on my underpants.
I kept those underpants for the next three days and spent hours wanking with them and adding more spunk and even some of my piss to them. I inhaled them all the time and it was almost enough to make me cream without touching myself. I don't know what the hotel maids thought of them laid out on the bottom of the wardrobe each day! I went back a couple of times to the club over the next couple of days, but never saw him. And then I had to return home from London. The pants had started to stink rather than smell sexy, so in the end I washed them. But whenever I go to London now I try and call in at the bar in the hope of seeing him again. And I always where those pants, still after washing showing the faded outlines of the various stains.
I talked to the barman briefly at the end of that evening. He said the guy was French. He thought his name was Pierre, and that he came in about once a month, usually on a Monday but sometimes to the piss party on a Tuesday and various other nights. But over a year or so now, we have not co-incided. I hope he thinks of me sometimes still. I can't get him out of my head. I don't love Pierre like I love my beautiful and caring partner. But I love him in the sense of pure desire, a pure need to be able to satisfy him again, a pure wish to show him how far I can go for him.
I don't know whether I have got across properly both how horny and how emotional this experience was for me. Like I said it has changed me. I suppose if I am honest, I used to think that people who subjected themselves to domination or pain during sex must feel inferior or be inferior to the other person, even though I could see how horny it was making them. Now I have much more respect and, I hope, understanding. I've never felt the occasion right to put myself in that position again. But I am open- minded about it. And when I see it happening to other people I don't think they are inferior. I envy them the chance to have such pure desire, pure trust in the person doing things to them, and even a strong sense of love, even if it is transitory. And it makes me hornier than ever before.
On a less philosophical level it has also changed me because for the first two or three months after, I was desperate to meet Pierre again. It meant I went to the underground bar whenever I could, whatever 'specialist' sex party was on, so I've ended up trying or watching stuff that I wouldn't have thought of. And some of it is much sexier and randy and dirty and great than I would have dreamed, so I have even more variety now than I used to.
A year or so on, I am not so sure about meeting Pierre again. Maybe it needs to be left as perfect as it felt. And it does feel as though it was perfect, even in such seedy, raunchy surroundings. Nevertheless Pierre, in the unlikely event that you do read Nifty and see this, drop me an email and let me know you are alright, and we can see...It would also be great to hear from anyone who was at Central Station that night and remembers seeing me and whether it seemed like I remember it now.
Thanks Danny Funtimedanny@hotmail.co.uk