Hunting with Hunter

Philip had been such a spaz at the start, I had to wonder if mine was the first piece of ass, of any type, he ever got to plow. Still he learned quickly. Of course he had to. Learn quickly that is. Seriously, I've seen some just out of high school twink, with his first piece, that lasted longer. Oh well, if I was after the fuck of the century I wouldn't be "hunting" straight guys.

Of course after last night Philip no longer qualifies for that title. Yeah, sure he's never going to be a leather boy riding a giant penis float in the Pride Parade, but he was out. At least to himself. He had squirmed at the thought of what he had done, the moment he sent his cum into my ass he had anyway. But two more beers, some more talk, and he had finally come to grips with it.

Decided that, maybe, really being a Bi-man wasn't so bad.

And of course my then offering him a hot oil back rub to ease his ... tension ... had led him to naively taking my place, face down on this couch. With me on top. Oh, poor Philip. He has so much to learn if he wants to keep himself batting more for the Chick Hunter's League. Like when your back is covered with slick oil and a gay man is on top of you, and you have wrists cuffs on, and are lying on a couch with rings made to hook those very cuffs, and said gay man hasn't cum yet ... you don't fall asleep.

He had been completely out of it when I snapped the hooks to the rings. He had even slept through me moving on top of him. But a good thick seven inches of dick in the butt--of an ass sex virgin at that--is one hell of an alarm clock. He awoke with a scream and started to cuss me and struggle. I was in too deep by then to have quit, had I been so inclined, which I wasn't. He had gotten his fun with my ass after all, I was due. Can't see what he had been bitchin' about, I at least knew how to do this. I didn't push in like a steel tent stake into Jell-O for one. Nor did I immediately start into pumping like I was making butter in a churn. I took my time, was gentle, gave him time to adjust ... and only then did I fuck him like his ass was a Blue Light Special sale at Kmart.

"Attention Kmart shoppers ... this ass is open, no lines no waiting."

Even now, on the throws of needing to clean these couch cushions again, I chuckled at the memory of the expression on his face when he had looked up and seen himself in the big wall-sized gold-framed mirror, being fucked in the ass. By me. And when, after enough time to leave him sore till next Tuesday, I got my rocks off in his butt and settled my weight on him. Lying there licking the tasty massage oil from off the back of his neck, whispering by his ear--praising him for taking it so well--the fucker had, I swear to you, blushed!

Like a prom queen, who just lost her cherry in the back of a '57 Chevy, Philip had fucking blushed! He was of course panting for breath. Drenched in sweat. Covered in sticky oil. Filled with even stickier cum. And, he was right on the edge of coming again himself. A fact I found out when I freed him and he turned over sporting a dripping-tip, Johnny flagpole.

You know me, waste not want not. Right?

Reaching my left hand back, I dug my fingernails into my ass cheek, spreading myself a little and, since there was no reason to be quiet in here, screamed out one hell of an awesome orgasmic "Yawp!"

Well, from just my own hand anyway.

Panting, now seriously cock-sore, I rested on the wet leather couch till I felt I could walk again. Sitting up, I looked up at the ceiling, dreading the ladder and those dangling ropes that still need to be recoiled, I smiled. That smile became a chuckle, then a full on belly laugh. I shook my head, took a look around me again at all the crazy furniture, all the hidden "mantraps" I had made, all the interesting "lures" I had in place to hold a man's attention.

And I had just fuckin' masturbated.

Getting to my feet, I put my limp cock back in my shorts and went back to work resetting the "Jungle Room" for the next hunt. Stopping at my desk, I closed my journal on the spot I had just added to, but not finished. I would have plenty of time to add to that later today. Time to detail out the "Philip Safari" in enough stunning details to make Marlin Perkins envious.

Glancing up in the corners, I smiled seeing the glint of light off the three Super 8mm lenses around the room. Of course, I also had to do all that cutting and splicing of film at work in my editing studio. After hours, once the boss was gone. I laughed thinking of what his expression would be if he ever walked in and found me in the middle of editing one of these "documentaries" instead of his latest film project.

Seeing the remote that worked those cameras, I picked it up to put it back where it goes but stopped. I looked up at the corner closest to me and hit the button with a half-hidden smile.

"This is Hunting with Hunter, coming to you from the Jungle Room, wishing all you a good night, and remember to protect your valuable ass ... ets with a Mutual of Omaha insurance policy. Goodnight."