The Crack Jockey

Started by Ruchika Siwach · 0 Replies
Posted: 2 yrs
"Eternal suffering awaits anyone who questions God's infinite love."

― Bill Hicks

The Polynesian TGirl gripped my balls and aching member through the glory hole, as she sucked my friend in the adjacent booth, at the swing club. Her feminine fingers traced each weighty vein in my shaft ― which was dripping in flavored lube.

It was the first time Sienna had touched my cock, even though we'd flirted for years ― kissing each other's necks, and grinding incessantly. Completely nude, I'd stroked for her countless times, while she'd sit ― completely clothed ― beside me, informing patrons of her love for my kidney tickler.

Pointing to my porridge pistol, she'd announce, "Here at the club, this is the gold standard, boys! Must be this big to enter. Do you measure up?" Laughing, she'd bury her face in my neck, as I'd pump my clam hammer.

Because the sex shack we visited was clothing optional, and I had a fetish for exhibitionism, I was often naked, fisting my fucktool. Since Sienna was a voyeur, she'd snuggle up beside me on a bed, or one of the couches ― a contented kitten ― as she watched.

"If I wouldn't be just another Number to you, I'd wrap my asshole around it, right now," she'd exclaim.

Sienna was all too aware of my quest to play with 5,000 women. I was a single swinger with a goal.

"If you weren't so driven to fuck everything, I'd haul you to a private room. That cock of yours is― Mmmhh!" she'd sigh.

And so it went, every Wednesday, at the local screw shed. It didn't matter where we were ― the dungeon, the glory hole, the orgy rooms ― I'd walk around nude, palms in this princess' plumber's tan. Frayed jeans fit her like skin, providing me just enough room to stroke her sweaty coin slot, and search for that opening of hers I craved.

She'd always stop me before I could take things that far, though, asserting, "I'm in love with it," motioning to my cock, "but I'm selfish."

"It's all or nothing with you then?" I questioned, tonguing her salty neck.

"Yeah!" she responded, wide-eyed and gorgeous, almost beyond compare.

It took everything I had to keep from kissing her deeply. Smiling, I'd lick her supple chest.

Throwing her head back, she'd moan in ecstasy, while pulling me to her breasts. "Fuck, you're gonna make me cum!" she'd exhale.

I'd stop each time, before she could crash the milk truck in her faded denim. Caressing the base of her neck, I'd stare into her soft, brown eyes.

"Give it up," she motioned to the sex-soaked environ around us, "and I'm yours."

The offer was so tempting, but there was only one who could bring me to that brink. For whatever reason, though, that "one" struggled to inform me how they felt. As such, I continued to do what I'd done for decades: fuck for Numbers.

"I'd love to," I responded, "but this is who I am," gesturing around me.

"I know," she dropped her eyes.

A pause.

"It's okay," she smiled. "I love watching you use it," brushing her hand over my cum slinger, threads away from touching it.

Pressing my face into her neck, I gave her a tube steak salute, in hopes she'd finally grab me, after years of dalliance.

Fuck! I'd ground my naked, pulsing cock against this woman's clothed, puckered asshole, who knows how many times, as we emulated sex. Fully nude, I'd lounged beside her, stroking for all to see, as she dragged her nails over my upper thigh. She'd watched me fuck more couples, and women, than I could recall.

Overtly displaying my lust for her turned me on. It was a hot scene, even when nobody was playing. There we were ― Sienna and I ― joined at the hip.

"You know I masturbate at work, thinking about you double-fisting it, don't you?" she whispered, motioning toward my straining shaft, as I stroked for her.

Without pause, I stacked my hands, pumping for her pleasure.

"Unnhhh! I'm gonna cum so hard with that mental image!" she exclaimed. Her head beside mine on the bed, I licked her jawline, as she gazed at her prize.

The thought of her racing into the bathroom ― wherever the hell she enslaved herself ― and banishing the white demons, fueled my fantasies, as I fucked my palms.

"You know I'm a Size Queen, right?" she asked.

"I gathered," I replied.

"I'd only love you for your penis," she played, as I shellacked my shaft. Sienna had a fetish for watching me press the veins to the head of my dick, as I stroked, and I was doing just that, now.

Giggling, she announced, "You're such a tease! You know I love that! Look at those delicious veins!"

Typically around this time, a single female, or couple, would enter, spy us lounging, and assume we were an item.

"If I wouldn't be just another notch on his bedpost, definitely! I mean, look!" Sienna would proclaim, motioning toward my hard-on. "He knows how I feel. So, no, if you guys are interested," she'd gesture to my throbbing cock, "have at it. I love to watch!"

On this particular evening, though, a second delectable TGirl wandered into the orgy room ― where Sienna and I were flirting. Rubbing her tight asshole, beneath see-thru panties, she sported nothing more than a pair of running shoes, and a smile.

Her succulent tits ― B-cups, at best ― heaved atop a delicate chest. She was breathing hard, and it was obvious she needed to cum.

That's where I entered the picture. Spying my cream cannon, she turned to Sienna.

"Does it belong to you?" she asked, gesturing to my huge cock.

"I wish!" Sliding off the mattress, my friend smoothed the sheets, making space for the newcomer.

Sizing me up, the interloper ― a Webcam model named Trina ― exclaimed, "I wanna see if I can take it all." With that, she crawled atop the bed, and grabbed my slab.

Arching my back, I savored the sensual manner in which her searching fingers deftly massaged my meat. "Will you help me with that?" she questioned, tracing her tongue over my Adam's apple.

Around us, a crowd had gathered. Sienna reclined at the opposite end of the mattress, running her fingers down my chest, as Trina sucked my neck.

My long-time TGirl friend only stripped in private rooms, and since she refused to fuck me, I'd yet to see her naked. As Trina licked her way to my glistening belly button, Sienna assumed her more familiar role as a voyeur.

Stopping at my navel, the Internet actress professed, "I only suck cock in a relationship." Standing upright, she breathed, "But we both know why I'm here," as she squeezed my fleshy fuck stick.

Akin to Sienna, Trina was also a Size Queen ― seeking the biggest, hardest cocks she could find, in order to determine how much she could take.

Realizing we now had an audience, she slid her gossamer thong down her tight cheeks, over her legs, and off her feet. And there she stood, nude, save for white Reeboks. Black wisps of level-straight hair fell in her eyes.

She looked Asian ― something so overly attractive, you hungered to fuck it; like expertly-drawn manga, or a regular character from Speed Racer. The svelte TGirl hated small talk, preferring to scythe shit to the quick, and watch it immediately incinerate. "Fuck me!" she demanded.

Taking the prompt, I stood and slid her to the edge of the bed, my weighty wang bobbing for all to see.

To my right, I could hear Sienna's own erection threatening to burst from her Levi's.

Dropping to my knees, I spread Trina's legs, exposing her rusty sheriff star. Moistening with anticipation, it gaped slightly, as I stabbed my tongue inside it.

"Oh, fuck!" my temporary play partner recoiled, before jamming her beardless donut into my mouth. "More," she breathed. "More!"

In response, I buried my face, and began moaning, to add vibration to the stimulus she was experiencing.

"Fuck. Fuck! Fuck!!" she squealed, grabbing my head, doing everything she could to stuff my face inside her dirt spider.

Two dozen eyes watched from around the room. They wanted a show, and I'd give it to 'em.

I gazed at the stunning TGirl, who was on the verge of orgasm. The stunning TGirl I was about to fuck. The stunning TGirl most guys would only jack-off to. By the look of her bicycle spokes, the audience would get the denouement it desired.

Lubing her corn cannon, I took a good 10 minutes to manually widen her. Once I'd comfortably inserted four fingers, I shredded a condom wrapper, and dressed for the occasion. Guiding my cock toward her puckered raisin, I gently eased inside.

It was like fitting Oprah's ego into a skin pore.

"Slow! Slow!!" Trina commanded.

"All these TGirls with size fetishes," I thought. But once they encounter something large in life, it takes 15 acts of Congress, over three decades, to fit inside 'em. Such stated, they do feel incredible to fuck, and I would never complain.

Twelve minutes later, I was halfway inserted, still takin' things slower than passing a bill to abolish government.

At this point, Trina began breathing regularly, as opposed to the desperate gasps she'd been emitting. She also started stroking her own cock.

"Faster," she instructed. "Fuck me faster!"

Increasing the speed of my thrusts, I also increased the depth. My goal was to get balls deep on this one.

The more quickly I pumped, the more quickly Trina stroked herself, until she spasmed, her cock twitching uncontrollably. Arching her head, I thought she was having a seizure, since nothing was emitting from her penis.

As such, I stopped, my desire to ensure her safety overriding my thirst to provide her pleasure.

Gulping, she struggled to focus. "Wh― What are you...doing?!" she questioned, distressed. "D― don't...stop!"

It was all the assurance I required, as I inserted myself once more.

In response, Trina again convulsed ― later informing me she'd been in the throes of countless orgasms, combined into one, long interlude of unbridled ecstasy. Due to the estrogen she'd been taking for years, she no longer produced ejaculate. Instead, she'd become multi-orgasmic.

Not certain how long a person could spasm like this, I decided to give our spectators what they wanted. After Trina had cum for perhaps 20 minutes, I thrust my cock completely inside her.

"Holy fuck!!" she retreated ― wrenched from her orgasmic daze ― as she gripped her anus.

"Are― Are you okay?" I queried.

Clutching her chest, she gasped, "That's way too deep."

A pause.

Reconstructing where she was, and what she'd been doing, she stammered, "Can― Can we keep going?"

Smiling, I obliged, as we continued to slowly, sensually fuck ― my cock partially inserted ― until she waved the checkered flag, another 20 minutes later.

Shaking, she stood on legs more wobbly than a government initiative to "aid the populace," make the planet safe for "democracy," or some other bullshit sales pitch. Stabilizing herself at the edge of the mattress, Trina fought to catch her breath.

Gazing into the crowd, I couldn't discern faces, but could feel the positive energy. A dozen voyeurs who'd watched you lay pipe like a plumber with 40 hands, and five decades experience. How many of these folks would go home, and fuck their spouses better than they had in 30 years, after witnessing a scene like that?

It was a moment to savor. Beat the fuck outta some 37 cent raise, or bein' "promoted" to assistant manager at Home Depot. The shit that passes for "important" is as laughable as a belief Joe Biden isn't a fucking lunatic.

We were talkin' a scenario here that would hook most guys up to an IV dripping confidence, for years to come. For Hugh Mungus, though, this was such a common occurrence, he'd already scanned the audience for the next Number, before removing the condom.
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