How My Last Blow-Out with The Sexiest Man in My Life Almost Became the Nightmare of My Life

For those of you who think I have a great imagination and make up all these hot sexual encounters like the ones described in “The Two Most Sensual Hours in My Life” (7/8-9/12), or “Friday Night and Saturday Morning” (7/10-11/12), you’re wrong. Everything, including what I’m about tell you is pretty much as it happened, with little changes for dramatic license.  About the only thing I change are the names – some of the time.

It was supposed to be my last fuckfest before my departure for the summer to our vacation home in PA’s Poconos and George (yes, despite my protests, I haven’t left him yet). My beach buddies jokingly preferred to my PA hideaway as the Betty Ford Clinic for Lauderdale Sex Addicts and they were right: no bars to speak of, no sex clubs, no book stores or truck stops, and tricks on the web were scarcer than coke at the end of the Winter Party. So, having had both Todd of “The Two Most Sensual Hours of My Life” fame (posts 7/8-11/12) and Brent, an ex-military, lightly muscular, lightly fuzzy fiftyish close second and versatile bottom who had been trying to connect with one another, my solution to the happy dilemma was to have a threesome at my place where I would underwrite the party favors (don’t ask how much) – shots in the dick included. After all, both of them had been product-tested by me (I had even given one another great references when I played with them separately), and even if I ended up on the sidelines watching them, shall we say, get acquainted, having two naked hunks in my bedroom with me, all of us high on smack, and with three dicks as hard as the Rock of Gibraltar – what more of a send-off to Nowhere, PA could a boy want?

Brent arrived a few minutes early but I could see by the grin on his face when Todd came in that I deserved a finder’s fee. We dispensed with the pharmalogical segment of the night by 10:30 (though their chat about their respective, repeated stays in drug rehab bothered me) and soon after we were immersed in undoubtedly the hottest threesome I ever experienced in my gay career. More times than not, I’ve been the sex toy to rekindle a stale relationship; in others, I’m the star as I play with one guy as the other plays voyeur. But this Friday night and this threesome were from a different planet. We were into one another almost equally, one guy tonguing the other’s butt hole while he sucked the third’s cock, or Brent fucking Todd while I fucked Brent. Hell, once, Brent and I had both our cocks up Todd’s butthole at the same time, a very first for even this jaded, around-the-block-a-few-times fag. We were in lust, incredible, utter lust in one another and it showed. About the only bizarre thing that night – at least up to that point – was the nature of our conversations. Other guys in these strange Kama Sutra positions would be spitting out four letter words like a Porn Film Script Writing 101 thesis, but instead we chatted on in smack-speed-talk about the last political gaff or what was on sale at Target, all while we were eating dick and fucking ass in the most delectably decadent ways.

After going at for over three hours, Todd declared he was hungry (slamming totally killed my appetite for days, another sign to me he was lifer when it came to shooting up) and while I went at my third round fucking Brent, Todd left the room to order pizza. The delivery guy either took no notice to Todd answering the door in his jockstrap, after all this was Lauderdale, or was too plain to invite in. We soon were munching our slices of extra cheese and guzzling down Coke in my kitchen, our three hard cocks waiting to be served when both of them almost on cue announced they were done for the night. Brent said he was bushed, Todd that he would be semi-officiating the following afternoon at a Celebration of Life memorial open house for a 75 year old close friend of his named Don, who had died just the week before of lung cancer, at the old man’s Victoria Park – smell money – home . (Had he been a “benefactor,” of Todd’s, I wondered?) He even invited both Brent and I to come: “The Alibi will be catering and they’ll be an open bar.” And so at 2 am I was alone, two slices of stale pizza sitting on my stove, still horny.

And still hard.

Cynical me thought that they were actually planning a rendezvous that night to continue the evening’s fuckfest as a dynamic twosome, but if so, so what? I had had my fun and my money’s worth even if it meant scouring the hook-up sites in the middle of the night to find one last ass to fuck before Mr. Peter thankfully called it a night.

I hit up over a dozen guys who were online and supposedly “looking,” but no takers. It was a Friday night, damn it, so were my hunches about the web correct, and most of these guys just on to dirty talk and j-o? I finally nailed a 39 year smooth Latin who was in Miami but wanted his Daddy bad.  “OK if I party?” he asked on his next to last email to me before hitting the road.  “NP” was the understatement of the night from me who was still flying high, real high.

His profile said 39, his pics said cute, but the reality that walked into my house at close to 4 a.m. was closer to 50, tired and loose. But no matter. After I had had the best of Lauderdale, even God would have looked like an also-ran.

At first Meeko really sounded like he was into it and my hard dick big time. (Gee, drugs will do that to ya, won’t they?) And we went at it for well over an hour. Not able to get off fucking him, I asked if he could suck me off to which he obligingly lay back and worked my dick tenderly with his mouth.  But I was beginning to get worried. I had remembered earlier how Brent had complained his dick hurt if I bent it at a certain angle, and now my dick was beginning to ache – bad. Todd had given us the shots in our dicks around 10:30 which meant they should have worn off (as they had my last two times I had done the needle with Todd) by 4. But here it was almost 6 and my cock remained as hard as a thirteen year adolescent boy’s.  Something was wrong.

Realizing all the mouth action in the world wouldn’t get me off, I told Meeko very nicely that I had had it for the night. But instead of taking the cue to leave like most tricks would, he suddenly switched on some persecution complex, complaining how he had treated me right, had come all the way from Miami – high – and how I was an ungrateful bastard to reject him like this. He who just a year before had had major surgery for colon cancer (Now, that explained the Frankenstein scars across his abdomen – but he still liked to get fucked – odd, huh?). All my pleas that it wasn’t him, it was me, went nowhere. I had only wanted a hole, not a live demo on psychoses. But I realized it was better to say nothing – why throw gasoline on the fire like bringing up his 20 year profile pics  – and finally, finally, he collected his things and left, continuing to mutter to the door what a real fuck I was underneath my cool veneer.

I played with myself another hour, watching, til I came, but my erection remained unabated. I remembered when I had left Todd’s place a few weeks ago how he had mentioned Benadryl was good at bringing the hard-on down, and in fact had given me two for the road. But I had no Benadryl in the house and instead devoured what cold med tabs I had lying around. I waited a half hour and when nothing changed I called my Bud Bill around 8. He knew all about what I had planned for Friday night. After all, what’s the point of having a threesome if you can’t brag about it to your friends?

“You got any Benadryl?” I asked when he picked up the phone.

“No, why?” he said, obviously still groggy-eyed.

“My dick won’t go down.”

“Shit. How long?”

“Todd gave me the shot 9 – no 10 hours ago.”

“Shit.” There was a dead pause in his voice. ”You better go the ER at Holy Cross. They – they might – have to drain the excess blood out of your dick. You – you want me to take you?”

“No, no, I got myself in this mess, I’ve got to face it myself.”

On my way to the hospital – 20 minutes away – I stopped at Walgreen’s, bought a box of Benadryl and popped the tabs – eight all total –like candy on my way over, hoping for a fucken miracle.

Tomorrow: ER Nightmare

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