Travel Diary: The Eye Stared Back

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Strangely, it seemed to stare back at me, through the thin wisps of hairs that covered his back. Normally, I’m not much of one for back hair, although I do like tattoos. But that eye. Unblinking. Watching. As I unloaded in his ass. A second time in as many days.

The Egyptian Eye of HorusThe Egyptian Eye of Horus. A mathematical symbol. One of royalty. A symbol of the sun god Ra.

But for me, as I bred this 28-year-old, overly tattooed fatty, it just seemed dead.

In Birmingham on one of my travels, I didn’t feel particularly like begging too many of the assholes to come over to take my load. Literally. So when a dude seemed willing without offering up a photograph (and claimed not to have any, which seems unlikely in today’s cell phone camera world), I took him up on the offer.

He arrived, venturing into my darkened hotel room and sucking my cock with gusto after having stripped naked. Indeed, he proved to have a “football” build. Not particularly in shape. More like the shape of a football. But as he eased his ass onto my cock, I found myself happy that I invited him.

There are asses and then there are talented asses and there are naturally talented asses. This dude had a naturally talented ass.

Smooth as silk, warm and wet. I found my cock throbbing inside his very clean chunnel of love. And I found myself ready to unleash a torrent of cum.

But I held off, relishing the time I had inside him and shifting position. His body, not impressive, with big hairy tits and a missing cock sucked into the fat that happened to be his pelvic gut.

As I fucked him from behind, that’s when through the adjusted darkness, I found myself staring at the eye the first time and, the following night, a second time. I like fucking ass, familiar when it’s good like his, even though the rest of him lacked. But his ass had a sensation unlike any other. Usually those with a “swimmer’s build” — meaning they’re built like a beached whale — have too much junk in the trunk. When you’re plunging inside that cushion for the pushin’, you find yourself unable to plunge deep due to the massive amounts of blubber between you and the sphincter.

Not in this gentleman’s case. I found my cock buried to the hilt with no difficulty. I enjoyed myself immensely.

Except for that all-knowing eye that stared back at me, just below the collar on the back of his neck.

Horus watched as I unloaded twice in his ass.

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2 Comments on "Travel Diary: The Eye Stared Back"

  1. Kris H. says:

    I like your re-definition of “traditionally” sought-after characteristics (football[er]‘s build, swimmer’s build). Those were added-value.

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  2. Brad says:

    Fatty huh? I thought you were a classier guy than that. Demeaning somebody is not cool.

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