and sat up to kiss me so that he could taste his own musky scent on my lips, then said, “Not here. There’s one more room I have to show you.”
He took my hand and led me toward the closet, both of our rock-hard cocks pointing the way ahead. He turned on the bright closet light and I looked around, confused. There were just hanging racks and tons of built-in drawers, but I didn’t see anywhere to fuck. Then he pulled aside a curtain at the back and revealed something very special in a corner I had not noticed before.
Hanging from the ceiling was a leather love swing. It had a saddle for someone to sit on, a head-and-neck brace, and then two sort of stirrup things that loosely attached to the seat and to the ceiling so that someone could hop into the thing and spread their legs for the fuck. Riley handed me a condom and a bottle of lube to prepare while he got into the contraption. This was the first time I’d ever contemplated using such a device, but I was excited…especially once I saw how limber Riley was.
I unrolled the condom onto my dong, stretching the latex to its limits. Rubbing a few pumps of the lube onto it, I got my pole nice and greasy, then pointed it perpendicular to my body to aim it right into Riley’s wide-open fuck bud. He was firmly ensconced in his swing, his legs splayed to either side, and his ass presented and waiting for me. I bent my knees to achieve the proper trajectory, then I eased my way inside him. His pink little pucker was nice and relaxed from my lip service, and with the lube running down my prick, it was an easy matter to slide all the way into him in one quick motion. His ass cheeks quivered with the effort of stretching to take in my dowel, but Riley gritted his teeth and reached up to rub my chest as I started vibrating slowly back and forth.
I was not used to the swing, so with my first few thrusts, I popped out of Riley since the contraption overcompensated for my motions and elongated my strokes. Each time I plugged into him, it moved away from me, so that when I pulled back, I miscalculated the distance and had to penetrate him all over again. Holding the chains by which the love swing attached to the ceiling, I fixed Riley in place and began to fuck him with quicker, shorter strokes. Eventually I let go of the chains, enjoying the sound of them rattling and clinking with each pump of my hips, and keeping my strokes brief so that I could remain within the moist confines of Riley’s hospitable internal fuck chamber.
Eventually, I figured out how to let the swing do all of the work. I barely had to move as it swung back and forth like a pendulum while I stood still and let Riley’s ass fuck me like that. I basically had very little to do except remain standing up straight, which was difficult enough since Riley’s ass muscles were giving my cock a mind-blowing workout as they squeezed and contracted around my girthy shaft. The seat swung farther and farther, my low-hangers slapping against the clenched muscles of Riley’s smooth little ass. I reached a still lubed-up hand down to his solid cock and began to fondle his balls and jerk him off as the swing did its work upon us both.
After a couple minutes of lazy yet incredible, swing-creaking sex, Riley wanted to switch positions. He managed to extract himself from the swing rather fluidly, then made me lie down on it on my back, the brace cradling my head, my ass on the seat portion, and my legs swinging freely down to the floor. As I settled into position, I felt the warm residue of the puddle of sweat on the seat that Riley had worked up while I was fucking him, and I nestled into his humid heat.
I gripped the two harnesses that anchored the swing behind where my head was while Riley climbed on top of me to face me cowboy-style, then impaled himself slowly on my waiting spear, taking its length inside him inch by massive inch. He anchored himself by placing his legs on the floor, and he started bouncing up and down on me like that, causing us to swing back and forth slightly. Restricting the swing’s movement was quite an arm workout for me, so I loosened my grip slightly and just let us pendulum more freely, enjoying the ride.
In this position, Riley’s ass felt even tighter than before. Though the range of motion was smaller than when I had been fucking him on his back, he made up for it by using all his internal muscles to massage my cock toward a quaking orgasm. His lubed-up tool was ramrod-straight and pointed directly up. Each time he bounced up and down on me, it slapped down onto my belly with a wet thud sound and then ricocheted back up to slap his belly. We both had a cock-shaped lube pattern on us within seconds, and I loved the feel of his flesh slapping down onto me as he ground his ass down on my pelvis even harder.
The swing was surprisingly comfortable. Usually when I was fucking someone in that position, the longer we made love, the more I felt it in my lower back as their weight came down on me again and again, but the swing had so much lumbar support, and moved so freely, I didn’t feel Riley’s weight at all. It was like fucking a cloud. A really hot, muscular, sweaty, sexy cloud. I loved the feeling of weightlessness as we swung to and fro, back and forth, like fucking in midair.
I reached forward and took hold of Riley’s flopping prick and began to thoroughly massage it with both my hands, one concentrating on rubbing the knob, and the other working its way up and down his long, thick shaft. My labors were turning his skin a bright pink to match the splotches of rosy color created by our aerobic exertions, and he had started to produce a thick flow of precum. I knew that, just like me, he was getting close to climax.
I redoubled my efforts, tugging more forcefully on his prong and bringing him steadily closer to the inevitable. Riley responded to my ministrations by gyrating and swirling his hips, pushing back on my cock ’til it was completely enveloped inside him. I was going to lose it at any moment, but Riley went first.
Without much warning, he gave a primal grunt and began to quiver. My first clue that anything was happening was a sticky, wet feeling in the hand that was twirling around his cockhead. My second was the burst of cum that shot past my left ear onto the floor. The next hit me square on the chin. Riley, meanwhile, just kept riding me as hard as he could, bracing himself against my chest and clawing into my muscles as his orgasm overtook him, drops of cum landing between his delicate hands and covering my entire torso.
Each time Riley shot a load onto me, the walls of his ass cavity flexed involuntarily, squeezing my tool and pressing me further and further over the edge. Finally, I could control it no longer. My back arched, I shoved my cock as deep up into Riley as I could and sent rushes of cum surging into the condom. I jackhammered up into him several times, trying to finish myself off completely by punching my cock into him as hard as I could and making Riley moan even louder.
Finally, I went rigid, every last drop of ejaculate drained from my aching balls, and Riley collapsed onto my cum-covered chest, plastering my face with grateful kisses. He lay on top of me in a sweaty, swinging heap as we both recovered our breath; then he reluctantly rolled off of me and led me into his immaculate bathroom.
After we both had cleaned up, we padded, still naked, into Riley’s kitchen for a drink of water to help cool off. He also cracked one of his bottles of Veuve. The icy golden liquid was like drinking sunshine, the carbonation making it even more thirst quenching. I quickly gulped down a flute of it and got a refill. It was starting to make my cheeks rosy again, but I didn’t care. I knew we would be here all night and finish the bottle.
Raising his glass in a toast to me, Riley said, “Here’s to finding you the perfect apartment.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I replied, clinking glasses with him.
Finishing his sip, Riley spoke again, this time a rascally grin pulling up the corners of his beautiful lips, “We’ve got another full day tomorrow. We could be together for hours and hours. I hope that’s okay with you.”
“I think I’ll be able to put up with you somehow,” I told him, grinning in turn.
“That’s good, because boy do I have a great property to show you tomorrow….”
“I’ll make sure to stretch first this time,” I laughed, pulling him in for a champagne-laced kiss.
Pierre the Pâtissier
Life had brought me back to Los Angeles after years away on the East Coast. I had cultivated a career in book publishing only to grow bored, spend six months traveling the back roads of Europe, and return to my native California without a clue as to what I should do