Cussing

A 6 year old and a 4 year old are upstairs in their bedroom. The 6 year old asks, “You know what? I think it’s about time we started cussing…” The 4 year old nods his head in approval. The 6 year old continues, “When we go downstairs for breakfast, I’m gonna say something with hell and you say something with ass.” The 4 year old agrees with enthusiasm.

When the mother walks into the kitchen and asks the 6 year old what he wants for breakfast, he replies, “Aww, hell, Mom, I guess I’ll have some Cheerios.”

WHACK! He flies out of his chair, tumbles across the kitchen floor, gets up, and runs upstairs crying his eyes out, with his mother in hot pursuit, slapping his rear with every step. His mom locks him in his room and shouts, “You can stay there until I let you out!”

She then comes back downstairs, looks at the 4 year old and asks with a stern voice, “And what do YOU want for breakfast, young man?”

”I don’t know,” he blubbers, “but you can bet your fat ass it won’t be Cheerios!”

From cyberczar.tumblr.com.

Daddy

I don't now, and have never had a 'daddy' thing, hell in age I'm a daddy myself now. But I have always liked hot older guys. This guy reminds me of one in my hometown. I was fifteen at the time, and had the hots for every decent guy around. I used to sit on the bench in front of one of the restaurants and shoot the shit with this one, mainly as an excuse to put my hand on his leg. (This was a big thrill, I was green.) He lived in the hotel above the restaurant. One day a storm was brewing, and he asked, "Gonna rain like hell here in a bit, want to come up and sit it out at my place?" Well, hell yeah! More...



Once upstairs, he took off his shirt, unbuckled his belt, and went in the kitchen and got a couple of beers. He came back and handed me a beer, sat down on the couch and motioned me to sit beside him. When I had sat, he took my hand and placed it firmly on the inside of his thigh. He said, "You know, you gotta stop playin' with my leg out their on the street. People are gonna start wondering what's going on, and that wouldn't be good."

"I'm sorry."

"No, hell, it don't bother me. We just don't need no tongues waggin'. Anybody got to you yet?"

What do you mean?"

"I mean have you sucked any dicks or been fucked?"

When I hesitated, he said, "I ain't askin' names just if you've done anything or just thought about it."

"Yeah."

"What?"

"Sucked and been fucked."

"You wantin' some of what I got, right?"

"Yes."

He set his beer aside, stood up and shoved his pants and shorts down, sat back down, and said, "Show me what you can do."

When I had finished, he picked up his beer again, told me he liked to be licked and, with his hand on the top of my head, directed me to his inner thighs, his chest and nipples, his belly, and finally told me to suck his balls.

He fucked me doggy style on the floor, warned me to keep my mouth shut, again not to play with his leg in public, and informed me he'd let me know when he was in the mood to give me some dick.

His name was Steve and from that day until I moved away, every couple of weeks or so I would get the nod and go up and do whatever he was in the mood for. Usually either a blow job or a fuck. Nothing exotic, he just liked having a boy to relieve his stress. And I was happy as a clam to do it. (I loved that hairy chest, and he had hairy legs. Guess that's where I got my thing for hair.)

Steve led to John, another tale.

Scruffy Memory - Denver

This guy has a dissolute look, like someone with a habit. Drugs, booze, or just an unwillingness to work.

He's the spitting image of a guy I met up with on Larimer Street in Denver, back in the days when Larimer was a skid row. He was standing outside a beer joint and when I asked if he'd like a beer he said, "Sure man, but I got no money." Which meant only that we weren't going to be trading drinks, because he had already turned to go in with me.


After a couple of beers I asked if he'd eaten lately. "Not yet today."

"You on the streets?" "Yeah."

"How 'bout a meal, a shower, and a place to sleep?" "Sounds good."

I took him up the street to the Sanitary Cafe (a real place, and the epitome of a greasy spoon) and we both ate. I asked him not to load up, that I'd leave him with some pocket money. Then it was across and up the street to the nearest flop house that had individual rooms.

"You want it for the night, or by the hour?" "For the night."

"You both stayin'?" "Just him."

"Seven bucks and a dollar for the key." A bit high at the time, but then no questions, no interest in what you were up to.

Once in the room, I told him to go ahead and take his shower.

"I just wanta let you know, I can be mean if I need to be." "You won't need to be."

"Okay, then." And he stripped down to nada, went in the bathroom leaving the door open, adjusted the shower and went in leaving that door open.

"You wanta watch, or wash me yourself?" I laughed. "It's tempting, but I'll wait."

When he had finished, he came out and sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, how's this gonna go?"

"I'll tell you what I've got in mind, and if you aren't up to that I'll try something else, okay?" "Lay it on me."

"I'd like to suck you off. Then I'd like to do some licking. Then I'd like you to fuck me, with me on my back and you on top." "If you want me to come both times, it might take thirty mintues worth of lickin'."

I started taking off my clothers, and when I was about finished, he asked, "How you want me for the suckin'.? Sittin' up like this, laid back, or stretched out on the bed?"

"You're fine. I like the man above me." I got on my knees and was ready to start, when he cupped my chin in his hand, lifted my head, and said, "Before we get started, just so's we're clear. In case you got any ideas of changin' the rules in the middle of the game, I don't do no catchin'."

Just so's we're clear. You're the pitcher, I'm the catcher. Anything else and I'm outta here." He patted me on the cheek. "We're on the same track, buddy, have at it."

He was still soft so I got to take his whole dick in my mouth get him hard and skin it back inside my mouth, which is something I like and seldom get to do. They're either already hard or circumcised. He had a mouthful softl. Fortunately he wasn't one of those guys who quadruple in size. Hard, he was like the guy above.

It took about four minutes to get him off, which is just about right, because for me sucking is foreplay, I don't want it to go on and on. And he was a comer. Two big shots, a solid squirt, three good streams, and then the dribble.

When I came up for air he asked, "Okay?" "More than okay. You've got a big, beautiful dick, and you're a comer. I like a comer."

His dick had lost it's stiffness, but was still swollen. I took it in my mouth, made sure I had all the come off, pulled the skin forward, sat back, and said, "Take a break."

"Okay to stretch out?" "Yeah. I tried doing my thing with the guy straddling me once, but it didn't work worth a damn. Too awkward."

He stretched out on his back and I stretched out alongside him, careful not to let Mr. Everhard touch his body. Then I asked him to roll on his side for second. I gave him a big, wet, sucking kiss on each cheek and rolled him back.

"What was that all about?" "Oh, I don't know. You've got a beautiful ass and guys are always saying, 'Kiss my ass!' Don't worry, other than looking at it or kissing it or holding on to it, I've got no interest in it."

Then I went into what I call my licking routine, but actually involves hand, fingers, lips, and tongue. I wound up with my lips next to his ear and asked him if he could come now (he was bone hard). When he said, "Yeah," I said, "Can you keep it up enough to fuck after you come?" He answered, "As long as I'm fuckin' it'll stay hard."

"Okay, fuck me hard till I come. If I come before you, then fuck me however you want till you come."

I got a tube of lube out of my pants pocket, lubed us up, stretched out on my back, and pulled my knees up to my chest. He was no virgin. He mounted me, expertly inserted his dick, and began fucking me, hard.

When I was ready to come, I tried to push him back so I would come all over him, but he said, "Don't man, I'm on a roll here." He continued banging away, my cum squishing between our chests, until he came.

When he had finished, he took a few seconds breather, pushed himself up and waited for his dick to slide out. Then he sat back and looked at my cum on his chest.

"Yeah, I get it. Sometimes after I fuck a guy he wants me to jack him off. I don't mind the jackin', but I hate getting his cum on me. Makes me feel dirty. But yours don't bother me, maybe because it's the first time I ever made a guy come by fuckin' 'im." He looked up at me and said, "One of those mysteries of life, I guess."

I smiled and said, "Come on, let me clean you up."

He followed me into the bathroom and asked, "This part of your thing?" "Yep. 'Always wash a man's business after he's fucked you. It's a way of saying thank you.'"

"Who said that?" "Some guy who fucked me when I was a kid. It stuck. Now I do it out of habit, and to say thank you, and because I kinda like doing it."

After we had finished, we returned to the room, where he flopped out on the bed and I got dressed. "You, got a wallet?" I asked.

"In my pants," he answered. I got his wallet out and lay it on the dresser. I got my own out and took out a hundred dollar bill. He was watching me like a hawk and when he saw the bill he said, "Man, that's way too much."

"That won't last long. I'm going to remember you a long time. I am really glad I met you."

"Well, likewise, man. I'm glad I met you too."

We didn't get around to names. But the memory remains.