DADDY DAN'S PIG SLUT
DISCLAIMER: This story is for entertainment purposes only. It depicts acts of a homosexual nature and includes frank descriptions of raunchy sexual behavior. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under age or offended by this type of behavior, please do not read any further.
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I've always had a difficult time admitting that I'm a pig. That is, until the last few years. In truth, I've known I had a kinky side and insatiable sex drive since I was a teenager. I also love pushing limits and being "different" in most aspects of life. So, why should sex be any different?
Trying to put a number on it, I've probably had sex with over 500 men through the years. At 55, that doesn't sound like all that many, less than one per month! (Bitch, I know!) Trying to explain away any addiction is the first sign of addiction, right? Of course, 500 men doesn't take into account I didn't really become sexually active until my late teens even thought I sucked my first cock when I was about four. (But, that's another story!)
The problem with being so sexually insatiable is that the same-ole, same-ole becomes boring pretty quickly. It's hard to find different places to fuck, types of men to explore and kinks to try, out of the myriad of options. I've found most guys are so sexually repressed and caged by societal expectation, they never allow themselves to truly embrace their primal, biological urges, especially the more fringe, sexual pleasures that might be deemed kinky or taboo.
As soon as I was old enough to have the freedom to drive and seek out sexual encounters, I was cruising the local parks and men's rooms for action. (Of course, that was long before the internet.) Growing up in a small, mountain town, tricks were pretty limited. But I did manage to find a couple public men's rooms that were frequented by horny, local, gays & married guys on the DL. And there were the occasional out-of-towners who stumbled across my path.
Those occasional, tearoom quickies only managed to whet my appetite for cock. Fueled by lust and an abundance of teenage testosterone, I was always looking. If I weren't cruising the local johns, I was cranking out 3-4 loads per day as I fantasized about every possible combination of man-on-man fun. Like most guys who've just discovered self-pleasure, my poor cock stayed raw and tender. But, that didn't fetter me!
In the late Eighties, I moved away from my small hometown to a large city for work. Obviously, more men meant more opportunities to explore my burgeoning sexuality, especially as a "closeted" pig. Adult bookstores and bathhouses were a welcomed option for anonymous fun. I spent way too much time and $$$ trying to satisfy my hunger and perfecting my technique.
As with most such adult establishments, I quickly discovered and fell in love with gloryholes. The all-gay, adult theatre downtown had a maze of stalls in the back with holes between each one. You could watch your trick enter and, if offered the chance, blow him with anonymity. Of course, some booths could accommodate two for more `intimate' relations. I always enjoyed rolling the dice, sitting in the dimly lit space and waiting for some anon cock to present through the hole. Random cocks of all sizes, shapes, ethnicities and cleanliness were on the menu. And I loved trying them all!
During those anonymous encounters, I came to appreciate that every man and every man's cock and ass had something unique to offer. Whether long or short, white or dark, clean or dirty, ripe or fresh, hardcore or soft touch, kink or kindÉ. There were simply so many cocks and cracks and too little time. Of course, I did my best to make the most of my time and "investment". I think my record for anon cock in one visit was at least 10! (That's a lot of cock and cum!)
As I grew older and my tastes evolved (and I became less hung up on societal norms), I began to actively explore raunchy fun. There were occasional chances to indulge in a little piss play or ripe hole in the bookstores and baths. But, it wasn't the ideal location to really let go without fear of making a nasty mess in a public business.
Years passed and rando blow-n-gos no longer brought me the same excitement. Fortunately, that was just about the same time AOL introduced chat rooms. It didn't take long before the `men-for-men' ones became my new, preferred cruising grounds. Unlike anon gloryhole action, the nice thing about chatting first, one could get a sense of a potential partner's interests and limits before even meeting. Anonymity allowed questions without fear of judgment or exposure, especially for being interested in more kinky adventures.
That's how I met an ex-military, divorced, daddy bear and how I began to understand and embrace my piggy side for what it was.
Daddy Dan and I met in one of said AOL chat rooms, although I can't recall which. After some time chatting and getting to know one another, we became comfortable sharing private details. As luck would have it, we figured out that we actually only lived a mile or so apart. How convenient!!! I was still very repressed in many ways. But the more we chatted, especially about intimate interests, the more comfortable I became with him and the more I opened up about my secret sexual fantasies. So did he!
Dan, 55 to my 28, was the first person I'd ever really met who embraced his sexual kinks out and proudly. He was a regular at IML (International Mister Leater), had a fully-equipped dungeon in his basement, loved to talk dirty, take control, explore and PUSH limits. Thank goodness he was patient. He took me under his wing aka (rimseat) and taught me to embrace my desires and explore them, even though my first instinct was to be ashamed of wanting nasty.
Dan preferred hosting when we could get together for play. He'd invite me overÉ tell me his front door was unlocked and to just come in. He'd have me strip upstairs, first. Then, naked, afraid & vulnerable, I'd make my way downstairs to find him in his unfinished, basement dungeon. My excited, rigid cock would lead the way!
While I was naked, Daddy Dan usually wore his open-assed, black, leather chaps with a matching harness or vest. After the first couple times, I realized he never showered or cleaned up before we met. His hygiene, or lack thereof, totally depended on the events of the day, how hard he'd had to work or if he'd taken a shit. To say the least, it gave "crap shoot" an entirely different meaning.
To be clear, as nasty as Daddy Dan could be, he was a kind man and easy to trust. He never truly "forced" me to do anything he didn't think I could handle or was ready for. He had a strange sixth sense if I was starting to freak. He always pulled back just enough to keep me from bolting like a virgin, school girl.
I remember one time, in particular, I got to his house and walked inside to find he was still upstairs. "Hey boy!", he'd always greet me in his gravely, deep voice. Fully clothed, we sat on his sofa, chatted for a while and shared a beer. Even though I was confused by the delayed gratification, he told me he needed more fluids and time to brew lots of piss. He knew I wouldn't complain about that!
As usual, the conversation turned to sex. As we became more aroused, he unbuttoned his Levis and took out his short, but very fat cock to give it a few tugs. His cock seemed as wide as it was long with a full, untrimmed bush. A few gray hairs in the mix betrayed his age but you'd never have guessed it from the boner he could sport. His mushroom head and piss slit were and are still the largest I've ever enjoyed. The shiny skin on his fully-inflated glans stretched tight, pulling his piss slit open when he was fully aroused. His exposed manhood was hypnotic to a young fag. The fact that he'd fathered two adult sons with it turned me on even more.
Sitting beside him on the sofa, I could smell his dick even before he pulled my head to his crotch for a long whiff and blow job. As any smells freak will tell you, there's an unmistakable odor to unwashed cock. A heady combo of sweat, musk, dried piss and pheromones, his cock stink hypnotically called me to it. He let me spend just enough time cleaning his stinky shaft so that he was drooling huge globs of precum into my mouth, smearing even more on my lips and into my nostrils.
As turned on as he was, I could tell he was holding back so he wouldn't cum too soon. All too soon, he withdrew his engorged cock from my eager mouth. Next, Daddy Dan stood up, dropped his underwear and turned to kneel on the sofa. He presented his ample, bear ass, ordering me to kneel behind him. He made no effort to hide the dark, wide skid in his white briefs. It was perfectly obvious what he wanted and what was coming. I knew better than to deny him and never wanted to disappoint, no matter his request.
Once I was in position, Dan told me to slowly bring my face toward his beefy, hairy ass. As with his cock, I was still a foot or more away when I got the first whiff of his asshole. Sweaty, but also presenting the earthy notes I'd come to associate with his unwiped ass. When he could feel my breath in his ass hair, Dan reached back to spread his cheeks for me to get a better look.
I should point out, much like his plum-sized cock head to his shaft, his asshole was in perfect proportion to his ass cheeks. His shithole was the size of a large lime and puckered uniformly all around.
As Daddy Dan pulled his cheeks apart, I saw, first hand, what was in store for me. His asshole had a large, brown ring about 6 inches from the center. The dried shit formed a halo around his hairy manhole creating a target for my tongue. The closer to the center and the hole itself, the wetter and "fresher" the crap residue. I was both excited and repulsed. My mind struggled to reconcile the humiliation created by his dirty ass while the testosterone boiling in my body drove me forward. Sensing my awkwardness, he reached back and guided my face, somewhat forcefully, to his anus. As the tip of my nose touched his greasy, outer ring, Dan growled, telling me to inhale his all-natural, daddy ass and to give in to my taboo desires.
Now fully engulfed in his shit trench, he told me to inhale deeply. He said it was important for me to quit overthinking. By inviting me to worship at his unwiped hole, Daddy Dan wanted to help me reprogram my brain. Older and wiser, he knew mind over matter was my ticket to fully embracing my inner pig. In order to be my true self, I needed to shed the societal programming that piss and shit were somehow disgusting.
After giving me a few minutes to get used to the stench of his intoxicating, dirty hole, Dan told me to seal my lips around it. (He expected a tight seal too!) As my fight or flight instincts kicked in, my overly stimulated brain tried to process my situation. I was certain he was planning to take another dump, this time in my faggot mouth which disgusted me, on some level. And yet, my rock hard cock betrayed my excitement. Somehow, I summoned the courage to override instinct and did as I was told.
I closed my eyes and leaned into his exposed, nasty anus. With my mouth now fully committed to the task, there was no turning back. No matter the outcome, I was Dan's shit pig and the lesson would continue. After a couple seconds, feeling his greasy hole coating my lips, I felt his hole starting to expand and I prepared myself for the ultimate domination & humiliation.
Without warning, Dan ripped a big, rumbling fart into my mouth. With my mouth sealed perfectly around his hole, the fart had no place to go except into my lungs or out my nose. Finding the path of least resistance, his ass fumes blew out my nostrils. (He literally farted thru my nose.) I was so relieved and turned on, at the same time, my rigid cock shot a huge load against his sofa, without even touching myself.
Of course, Dan quickly realized his fart had made me cum. He chuckled and turned around. His cock was now rock hard as well. Even though I was still riding my post-ejaculation high, he made it clear I wasn't done. He pulled me toward him, onto his dick and almost immediately unleashed a full stream of nasty, liquid gold down my throat. He was like that, you seeÉ no permission, no apologies, just insanely intimate and intense sex. After at least a pint of acrid, yellow waste filled my stomach, his piss stream slowed.
Already spent, my mind flooded with guilty thoughts but my job wasn't over. Rather than pull out of my mouth, he slowly started fucking it. His huge cock head punished the back of my throat and I knew better than to object. I opened my mouth as wide as possible to allow the intrusion and felt him building to the same, mind-blowing orgasm he'd given me. (I wasn't a selfish pig. After all, he'd earned it.)
After a few minutes of gentle, then more insistent face fucking, Dan roared and blew a multi-day load of searing hot semen against the back of my throat. I struggled to swallow and clear my throat specifically so I could breathe again. His thick, sticky load refused to budge, still hanging on my tonsils. I secretly wished he'd cum first then pissed to help wash it down.
Dan snickered as he lifted me from my knees to make eye contact. Apparently I still had some of his shit on my nose and lips. Dan leaned in, kissing me deeply. Then, lightly smacking my cheek, as if in approval, he told me to go wash my "faggot" face. He could easily have sent me back out into the world, literally shit-faced. But, I think he liked to keep that just between us. He was considerate that way.
Anyway, that was what would become a typical session with Daddy Dan. He always found a way to persuade me to let go of my fears and programming and allow myself to enjoy the finer points of piggy sex. Even when our schedules didn't permit a hook up, he insisted on continuing my training, feeding my piggy appetite. He'd leave water bottles, filled with his morning piss, right by his front door for me to collect. A few times, like the worm in a bottle of tequila, I'd see a rope of jizz or small nugget in the bottom of the bottle as an added surprise for his "boy". His creativity made me want to please him even more.
Sadly, cancer stole Daddy Dan away from me, much too young. He still had so much to teach me. But, I am forever grateful for his tutelage and mentoring. I've done my best to honor him whenever I hook up with a piggy guy. When I stick my nose and tongue into a greasy manhole or feel a chunky log fill my mouth, I channel Daddy Dan. In some strange way, it makes the act even more intimate. Today, I can proudly say I'm a pig and will always be Daddy Dan's pig slut!