Monday, August 1, 2011

Leather Up

When I'm going out for leather sex I take myself very seriously. For me, the leather is not just about looking good (which I do) or making a fashion statement. When I wear leather there is a sexual energy I feel as it rubs my skin. The scent has never failed to turn me on. Just knowing I'm wearing even a small amount of leather can get me hard. that is how seriously I take it.

This past Friday, I took it seriously. I first put on my leather cockring under my harness, the one I'm wearing in the picture at the top of the blog. Then I slid into my leather pants and threw on my leather vest, leaving it undone. Over my pants I wore my nearly knee-high boots that lace all the way up and have four buckles covering the laces. I tied my hair back and stepped out the door. The neighbors around where I live probably got an eyeful of me, but I don't really care what they think. I'm not going to be living here much longer anyway. I strode with confidence to the car waiting to pick me up.

The man picking me up is the guy who finally broke my dry streak a few weeks back. He had requested that I wear the leather for our second meet-up, one that we had both been looking forward to for a while. It wasn't a very cool day, so I began to feel a little hot in the short car ride to his place. But I didn't mind. Sweating in leather is something that I've come to expect and love. It is part of what makes the leather experience so sexy and enjoyable.

While in the car he got a call from his boss (he works from home) saying he would need to be at a meeting that day. He cursed as he hung up the phone and told me that we would not have as much time as we had wanted for play. We now had about an hour before he had to be back at his house to clean up and change.

When we got to his house I enjoyed the blast of the air conditioner while he lead me to his bedroom.  He quickly stripped off his clothes and knelt down to place his head in my crotch. He began to sniff deeply the scent of my leather and man smell. I ran my hands gently through his short hair before I grabbed his head and pressed it against my growing cock. I yanked him back by the hair and opened my pants, moving the pouch of my harness aside so that my cock fell out, hard, in his face.

He smiled with excitement when he saw it, but I still held his head back. I bent over and forced my tongue in his mouth, tasting everything inside. It wasn't really a kiss, it wasn't two sided. Instead it was me invading his mouth, letting him know that I was in charge. I lifted my face away, but before I let go of his head I spit on him. Then I spit again into his open mouth.

I let got of his hair and he was on my cock in moments. Again, he is not a great cocksucker (I think he needs to use more tongue), but the only reason he was on my cock was to get it wet for his ass anyway. I slapped his face with my cock and then with my hand, trying to gauge how much abuse he was willing to take. I never got to find his limit though, because he started begging me to fuck him. Remembering that we were on a tight schedule, I agreed that it was time to get in his ass.

He had a bottle of lube by his bed and I could tell that his ass was already lubed up so I didn't bother to eat out his ass. I don't think I've ever tasted a lube that I liked, and I didn't particularly want to find out what horrible flavor this brand had, so I just added some extra to his hole and lined up to slide in. Unlike the last time I was with him, I could tell this time that he was clean. His hole opened and closed around me and hugged me tight. He shuddered as I entered him and groaned as I started moving around.

Online he had told me that the last time we had fucked was the last time he had been fucked, and I believe it. His ass was tighter than I remembered and he was clearly in need of some cum. He smile on his face was huge as I pounded him hard. He was on his back on the edge of the bed with his legs on my shoulders. I hit him in the chest repeatedly, grabbing chunks of his pecs and pulling. I was giving him a pretty rough treatment and he was loving every moment of it.

But then, I didn't really care what he was getting from it. Where my concern lay was on my own need. It had been a while since my last fuck with the guy wanting to be my daddy. And that had been less than worth my time. My bout of mono had kept me from fucking anyone and I was in need of some ass. I moved his legs around, shifting him on the bed so that I had the best angle. If he slid to far back, I simply grabbed him and pulled him forward. He was light, or at least light enough.

And I was in power. Ever thrust made the leather I was wearing rub along my body, reminding me that I was in charge. The leather was putting me into a highly aggressive state of mind, making me more hungry for the man beneath me than I normally would be. The leather thong strap of my harness was rubbing my ass in a way that felt rough but only brought waves of pleasure. The leather would tighten around me with every breath I took, every movement of my muscles. It was great.

Finally I squeezed his legs together, making his ass as tight as possible, and began to feel my orgasm building. He could tell I was close and began to beg for my cum in earnest. When I gave it to him, he threw his head back and moaned. He felt my cum inside of him, splashing against the walls of his ass. I could feel it too. The wait between fuckings had been way too long and I was shooting hard jets of cum, milking myself dry in his ass, moving around. I fucked my cum deep into him before pulling out.

But I wasn't done with him yet. I grabbed his hard cock and began jerking it. I don't know what made me do it. The last time we had hooked up I had cum and left, he had never even mentioned reciprocation. This time, however, I wanted more than to just cum. I started rubbing and slapping his body, ordering him to jerk off and cum for me.

"I don't think I can shoot," he said to me in a small voice.

"You will," was all I replied.

I could tell he was struggling with it, but I wouldn't let him stop jerking off. I wondered what was wrong. It wasn't me, I knew that much. I had been great and he had taken my cum like soil takes water. And it wasn't that he wasn't turned on. He was very horny, and he moaned as I continued to rough him up. I decided that the reason for the problem did not matter as much as solving the problem, so I pushed the thoughts aside and began to coax the cum from his balls. What finally worked was me cupping his balls and fingering his ass with one hand and scratching his chest with the other. He shot an unimpressive load onto his chest and then began to heave and groan as if he had sprinted a mile. He could hardly talk and was unable to move. So I left him on the bed and grabbed a towel and began to clean off.

When I was clean and getting ready to leave he finally got up and began talking to me. First he was telling me that he wanted to buy a sling for his basement the next time he traveled to San Francisco and checked out the leather shop there. But the talk quickly turned (not of my choosing) to his age. As he was telling me about his approaching 50th birthday I remembered his trouble shooting. Maybe, I thought, there wasn't something physical preventing him from his orgasm. Maybe it was psychological. The way he talked about aging, it was like he was talking about his own death in the past tense. To him, too much life had already gone by. He gave me a short story about wasting his youth doing drugs and fooling around: things he wasn't proud of. It was a touching story, one that made me want to reach out and comfort him.

But I couldn't. Somehow in that car ride back to my place he had built up a huge wall around himself. He told me his story, but he never looked at me. It was like we were in confessional. I was not Ace, the guy who had just fucked him senseless. I was just a thing he could tell his story to. And I listened. I'm good at listening. This man is not the first one who has used me as a sound board, and he probably won't be the last. Through it all he kept me at a distance, and when he finished his story there was silence.

When we reached my door he was back to the man he had been before: talkative and horny. Already thinking about the next time my dick would be inside of him. But I could see that he was still concerned. Still think about what he had told me, the memories that his words had brought up that he did not share. Again, I wanted to reach out and touch him, to do something to make it better. But we don't have that kind of relationship. I'm not a lover and I'm not a confidant. I'm just the young man in leather who came to abuse his hole and then leave. And that is the role for him that I know I can play to perfection. And as I walked from his car to the front door, I knew that I had already given him everything he wanted from me. I had shown him that even a younger man like me still loved his ass and wanted to make him cum. I smiled as he drove away and I went inside.


  1. One thing that could have been a factor for this man (largely unfounded supposition on my part, I know), is if he's so concerned about aging, he may well be depressed and on antidepressant medication and may have decreased testosterone as well. SSRI antidepressants (Prozac, Zoloft, et. al.) are fairly famous for causing erectile dysfunction, but that side effect usually diminishes over the first 3-6 months. Less well known is that these drugs can cause a significant delay or even inability to orgasm. In fact, one SSRI is marketed specifically for men who come too fast. (One man's side effect is another man's remedy, I guess. Worked with sildenafil [Viagra] after all...)

  2. RedPhillip,

    1) You are just a bag of fun information today! Love it.

    2) You're right, that is possible. You've also made me very glad that my doctor never put me on antidepressants. I don't know if I could go three months with erectile dysfunction.


  3. God dont get me started about Paxil. 3 months of dysfunction? Try 4 years without an orgasm. Ugh. Thank god that is in the past.

  4. Tiggy,

    Yikes! That seems like it would be counter-intuitive. How are we supposed to avoid depression if we can't orgasm? Seriously.


  5. Ace man,

    Just love that post, would have love seeing you leave your place in all that leather. I'm sure that you were one hell of a good looking man. Love the way that you play with him before fucking him. It's ok to make the other people feel great but sometimes, you have to think a little bit about you too and i am glad that you did it. I'm sure that he appreciate you jacking him off and maybe it won't be the last time either before you move. Thank you for that rgeat post my sexy friend.


  6. There are also a TON of bottoms who do not like to cum in the presence of the top--especially those who see it as service. One in particular who I can think of, tells me that I've stretched him so wide with my cock, he can not get hard for quite awhile he takes my load home inside of him, masturbates while he works my jizz out of his ass and into a cocktail glass--and then slurps it down as he shoots....

  7. Yves,

    Sometimes people just need to talk, they don't need to be helped.


  8. FelchingPisser,

    Ok, that actually sounds very hot. And normally I don't have a problem with a bottom not shooting, especially when they are servicing me. But in that moment I wanted him to shoot, and I was going to make it happen. It was a bit selfish of me, but I honestly don't think I would act differently if given the chance. I wanted him to cum, so I made him cum. It wasn't about him getting off, it was about doing what I wanted.


  9. There have been times when I've been unable to look at someone else when I've been talking to them, telling them things that are very private to me, very difficult to say. It doesn't necessarily mean I'm creating a distance from them - rather, it means that I'm distancing myself from MYSELF. I'm stepping back to look at the actions/thoughts of somebody I'm "outside of" at that moment. It can be the only way to open up. True, it's not completely direct and absolutely open - but it's as close as I can get sometimes to sharing sides of myself that are (almost) never articulated otherwise. If his mind works the way mine does in situations like that, then he was very aware of you - of who he was talking to.