Date: Tue, 24 Aug 1999 20:00:10 EDT
From:
Subject: Dean Takes Me Beyond

Thoughts of Dean stayed with me, even when I couldn't see him: how deft he was
as a top, in his leather, in his business as a hustler. He even started to let
me in on some of the secrets of his business--like how anyone looking for sex
early in the morning is doing heavy drugs, how Saturday afternoons were
"boyfriend" time. Guys who weren't getting the S&M they needed from their
boyfriends were his usual Saturday afternoon customers.

Starting to trust Dean was giving me the nerve to ask a big favor; to cross a
line I'd long wanted to cross. I'd been to some S&M clubs, watching guys engage
in all sorts of fascinating action: I'd watched guys be whipped harder than Dean
had ever whipped me; I'd watched scenes with guys getting dripped with hot
wax and reacting with ecstasy; I'd watched a master spit on and slap his slave,
then drag the slave to an open space, order the slave to strip to nothing but
his dog collar, and then drench the slave with piss.

At one point the master pointed his cock into the slave's mouth, then
pulled back and shot his stream of piss into the eager mouth of his
boy. And I'd watched action on a sling, with a slave hooded, strapped in,
and getting gang fucked. Then one night I watched my ultimate turn on take
place in front of my eyes. Guys in leather, naked, and in between, were
gathering around a sling where a master was fisting his bottom. How I
wanted to be in that sling. The boy moaned with pleasure as his master
worked his way on his compliant young butt. I couldn't stay watching it
because I wanted it so badly ... and thought I couldn't get it.

It took a little more time but I did it: I asked Dean to fist me.

His face lit up. "I was waiting for you to ask. Come on down. I've got a
surprise for you," he roused me on the phone.

In no time I was in his apartment/dungeon. And there he was proudly greeting me
in his full leather: biker's cap, harness, lycra thong, chaps, and boots.

After politely giving me a glass of water, he instructed me to go into his
bedroom, strip, and put on what he had left on the bed. When I got the bedroom,
the only thing on the bed was a dog collar, which he had taught me how to put
on. I was raging hard as I gulped my water, awaiting the experience of my life.

Suddenly Dean was in the room. And knowing how a hit of poppers would
loosen me up, he reached for a bottle and gave it to me. Take a light hit.
I could control the bottle this time. Soon I'd know why Dean was giving it
to me.

We went through our usual get-acquainted. On my knees I licked Dean's boots,
licked his leather chaps up the insides of his muscled legs, buried my face in
his thong. Then as Dean turned around, I was licking his delicious ass cheeks.
Then in snap, Dean removed his thong, turning, and letting me savor, suck, and
plunge my tongue over and around his seven-inch cock and his beautiful shaved
balls, encased in his sexy ball harness.

But he knew what I wanted and pointed up to his ceiling. "Guess what those
hooks are for?"

"Got me," I said.

But Dean wasn't going to play games; he knew I wanted action.

"It's my new toy for all my bottoms."

He reached to the other side of the bed and pulled out a mass of leather and
metal: Dean had bought and sling, and I was going to be the first user.

In no time he had arranged it. "Slide in. There. Push your head down and back.
There. Pull up the legs. There you go. Legs into stirrups. We're all set."

My hands were free and he handed me the poppers bottle, as he lubed up with
Crisco.

"I love when a guy wants it all," Dean comforted me as he began probing my
hole.  He was going to tell me what he was doing every step. I knew then he
knew what he was doing, and my awe at him, at the scene, just blew my mind.

"Two fingers--feeling good?"

Oh yeah.

"Three, now four. Feel that? Feel good."

"Yeah," but it's a little tight

"Okay, take a deep hit of the poppers."

Dean watched as I inhaled into both nostrils.

I was ready now for more, as I nodded. The beat of the music matched Dean's
rhythm.

"Four fingers now, he told me, as I felt him deftly moving around my hole.
"You're doing great."

A few minutes later, "Take one more hit." I did and as I opened up totally in
went Dean's full hand. "All right! Feeling good?"

I nodded and smiled. The sensation of a man's hand, Dean's hand, in me was
blowing my mind. He had me reach around and feel his hand so I could see
how far in he'd gone.

I lost track of how many minutes had passed; maybe an hour. I didn't know or
care.

"All right, let's go deeper," said the master magician of my own sexual
fantasy.  "Take another deep hit of the poppers."

Dean knew when I was ready and he pushed in further. I could feel him
moving up my hole. I felt for his wrist, and found that it was inside me. I
was awed. I was ecstatic; The whole scene was drawing me to shoot my wad,
big time. Dean felt it too. He could see I wanted to come. I'd been rubbing
my cock. Dean spat at it, giving me his own lube. "Take another hit. Then
let loose. But first give me a hit." I gladly held the poppers bottle to
his face and he breathed it in through his mouth.

In seconds I raged with pleasure, shooting cum like never before, getting my
deepest orgasm ever. With my buddy's fist in me.

After cleaning up, I smiled at Dean. It was a smile of gratitude for taking me
where I always wanted to go. He was a great teacher, and as usual, a real pro.

All I had to do was call again, and we'd go for more.

Thanks Dean.