leatherscatpig, Part 2/5.
After the shit eating bitch finished licking my feet and sucking my toes thoroughly, and I had finished my whiskey, I told him I was ready to crash. I had put in a long day at the office, had a few drinks, stood to listen to a live music performance, navigated up to a foot of snow and was ready for some well deserved rest. Besides, having his tongue all over my big, tired manfeet had really relaxed me. I told leatherscatpig to get the bed ready for me, and with that, he prepared the bed for his special guest.
leatherscatpig had a nice king size bed. he went to great lengths to explain to me the quality of the mattress and boxspring, where he bought it, and so on. Yes, not only is this one a human toilet, but he loves to talk. This is something with which I would become very familiar over the course of those 16 or so hours. What I would learn is that when his mouth is not stuffed full of turds, it makes noise. As I listened to him talk about the bed, I found myself thinking, “I didn’t ask for your life story—I just want to fucking sleep.” But he was so earnest and well-intentioned, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him to shut up and give him a good backhand to the face—although I was tempted. The good news is that the other thing he uses his mouth and tongue for is to lick and probe a superior man’s body, with a highly specialized skill set applied to the asshole, cock, and balls.
His bed really did feel very comfortable. The thousands of dollars or whateverthefuck he’d paid for it was really worth it. I sank into the mattress, errrr, face down, legs spread and felt as though I were melting into it. I was very relaxed. Much to my pleasure, leatherscatpig gave my big feet more attention, and then gradually made his way up my long legs to my ass. That hot, wet trail had led the fucking faggot to my hole. Once there, he displayed an extraordinary talent for licking, sucking, kissing, and cleaning my shithole. Okay. Let me say something. I need to put my hole into context here.
When I made these arrangements with leatherscatpig, several days prior, we had discussed the approximate night, the approximate timetable, the plan of action and related matters. he had made one request of me when we worked out the details of this assignation. leatherscatpig more or less begged me to forego showering for several days prior to meeting him, and to wear the same underwear over the course of those days. Yes, it’s true: leatherscatpig loves natural mansmells, manstink, funk. Go figure. So standard drill, with the ripe pits, the ripe crotch, the unwashed ass. There is a certain degree of natural funk that I myself prefer a man to exude. For me, the ideal is slightly musky, with just a hint of soap to let me know he washes. And let’s be clear about it: I don’t get off on that old man smell you sometimes find at a suburban gym. No, it’s not that a all. It’s that pleasant, intentional, hot combination of sweat and musk and pheromones and soap that pleases my schnoz. But I digress.
By the time leatherscatpig’s warm, wet, gifted tongue met my four-day unwashed shithole, the hole was plenty ripe, and very natural. Keep in mind that I’m a hairy fucker and my crack is no exception. So he encountered the accumulated scent of four days of sweating and shitting, enhanced by my dirty underwear, which I’d been wearing for those same four days. And it intoxicated the bitch quite readily. This faggot’s head was spinning. he was totally getting off on my ripe ass. he showed his enthusiasm with his tongue, which dove into my crack, explored my hole, probed it, cleaned it, pleasured it, sending very welcome, pleasant, warm, wet sensations up my spine, and stiffening my prick. the scatpig knew his way around a man’s hole. he’d definitely done this before, and must have practiced for years to develop such amazing skills. I mean jeezus fucking christ, that shit is good.
To confirm that leatherscatpig is not just a one-trick-pony, I flipped over so that he could put his talented tongue to work on my cock and balls. Much as i expected, his tongue is multi-talented. he sucks some good cock, and knows how to lick balls, too. As I have said before, and will say again, there are born servants, and this submissive shiteating bitch is one for sure. I can’t imagine how he could be more submissive or more service-oriented. It’s a beautiful thing. I admire these faggots who are born to serve. When a boy has all of this worked out in his head, and he lives it, it just pleases me to no end. I felt very pleased and very relaxed with the service leatherscatpig provided to me before I drifted off to sleep that night. Since I sensed that he craved my load, which I had also been saving for four days, I withheld it. What could be better than to make him wait to swallow anything that comes out of my body?
As I drifted off to a restful sleep on his fancy bed, he left the room. I heard him in the livingroom doing things. I had told him that in the morning I wanted to awake to shined boots, and a nice breakfast. We had discussed the menu in advance. Yeah, the faggot was gonna get up before me so that he could get my boots shined, go to the store for groceries, and make my breakfast. I looked forward to it. Just to clarify: the faggot would not be sleeping in his comfy bed that night with me. Nope. That would just be wrong. He’s a creature meant to be kept low, and that’s where I made sure he stayed that night. I had told him that when he did sleep, that he would sleep on the floor, in the living room, so as not to disturb my sleep. I got up during the night to piss and saw him sleeping soundly on the floor—no pillow, and just a small throw covering his naked body. The sight of him down there asleep made me feel good, because it reminded me of his inferiority, his submission, his lowness.
To be continued.
