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Alleyway Rimming in the Rain

The wet spring in 2013 had some advantages. For one, the weather quickly cleared the busy streets of Melbourne after a gruelling workday. Empty streets resulted in fewer prying eyes and a reduced likelihood of being caught engaging in illicit sexual encounters in public.

Such was the situation that Daniel and I took regular advantage of several days each working week. The routine was predictable; we arranged to meet at a bar or pub at 5 PM for pre-sex drinks before stealing away to our secret location in an alleyway not far from the train station for some man-on-man action.

Daniel and I met at a sex shop about a month earlier. He wanted to explore his bisexual side but found the gay scene, not this taste. I went through bisexual phases, and my chance meeting with Daniel signalled the third, and as it turned out, the final such stage.

While confessing to being a bottom, Daniel was reluctant to experiment beyond giving me awesome blowjobs. Occasionally, he reluctantly allowed me to return the favour but seemed uninterested in progressing further. Since we lived on opposite sides of the city, and Daniel was cheating on his wife, he resisted all attempts by me to lure him to my bed. So, these illicit public sessions were all we had.

On this typically dreary Melbourne Friday, work could not end soon enough. Daniel and I arranged to meet at The Sherlock Holmes on Collins Street at the end of the day. Descending the stairs and folding my umbrella, I scanned the tavern and immediately saw Daniel signalling to me through the crowd of drinkers.

“Hey, mate,” Beamed Daniel, gripping my hand and shaking it vigorously, “Drink up.”

I took the proffered pint glass and took a massive gulp of Kilkenny. The taste of the creamy ale sailing down my throat closed my mind from the rigours of the working day.

“That bad, huh?” Snickered Daniel.

“Yep, same shit, different day.”

Daniel and I worked in similar industries, but while his career was accelerating and thus satisfying, mine was stuck in a holding pattern which greatly frustrated me. While I excelled in my profession, I seemed to choose companies that paid lip service to the skills I offered. As a result, I tended to do the bare minimum necessary to collect a salary I ploughed into my home renovation. It was this soul food that gave me purpose.

“Don’t worry,” Daniel assured me, “I’ll make it better a little later.”

The thought of Daniel’s lips blowing my cock got an instant rise out of me, but his instant deflection in conversation kept my loins under control, which was just as well because before too long, it was my turn to get the drinks.

The tavern was packed, and it took some time before I had jostled my way to the bar. The staff were hard at work wetting everyone’s whistle, and my gaze settled on a woman that seemed familiar. She reminded me of an ex-girlfriend who introduced me to the swinging lifestyle about fifteen years earlier. This staff member had a similar figure, but she had hazel-tinted hair instead of blonde, and the lines on her face suggested rough life. There the similarities ended, and while she smiled at me, hers was a smile of acknowledging that I was a customer rather than one of familiarity. In the end, I was served by someone else.

Back at our table, Daniel and I chatted enthusiastically, but my gaze was drawn back to the bar. Occasionally, that familiar staff member looked in my direction but did not indicate that she knew me.

“Who’s captured your attention?” Said Daniel, intruding upon my thoughts.

“That woman behind the bar,’ I replied, “Looks like an ex of mine.”

“When did you break up?” Asked Daniel nonchalantly.

“Late 2000,” I said, after a pause to recall the date, “Haven’t seen her since.”

“Oh, that long ago?”

“Yeah, I found out she was cheating on me.”

“Man, that’s rough.”

“Yes, and no,” I said, reflecting on that relationship, “I think we’d run our course, and I was giving consideration to moving to the UK for work.”

I brushed over the details of how we became involved in the swinging scene and how Lyndal started seeing one of the regular men behind my back and his wife’s back.

“Sounds nasty,” Daniel opined.

“Complicated by the fact that Lyndal and were de facto living together.”

“You think it’s her?” Asked Daniel, glancing towards the buxom woman behind the bar.

“Not sure,” I replied, following his gaze, “The similarities are striking, but the last canlı bahis I heard, Lyndal was living in Townsville.”

“Townsville,” Snorted Daniel with justified disgust, “Doing what?”

“Funny story,” I laughed, “On the day I came back from the States, I turned on the TV, and during a news bulleting was this story about Lyndal.”

I explained to Daniel that Lyndal had married a squaddie, and the army relocated them to Townsville. She took a job with the Child Support Agency but was arrested for trawling the database and snooping on the private lives of celebrities. The news article was detailing Lyndal’s conviction and the reaction of the stars whose privacy had been breached.

Several Google searches revealed newspaper articles also running the story. So, my ex-swinging and cheating girlfriend had achieved fame, or infamy, at last.

“Well, well, well,” Chuckled Daniel, “Someone to avoid then.”

“For sure,” I agreed, “But she was such a dirty slut.”

“In what way?” Asked an intrigued Daniel.

“Oh, she did it all,” I said, growing hard beneath the table, “Swallowing, anal, rimming, DP, sex with women, golden showers. If you could think it, then she would do it.”

“Golden showers?” Asked Daniel, casting me a quizzical look.

“Pissing on each other.”

Daniel looked horrified, and his face caused me to laugh. Lyndal was new to that kink, or so she said, but quickly took to it, especially in group situations. When we were together, she pushed her meaty tits together with one hand and frigged her clit with the other as I released my stream across her tight body.

“That sounds awful,” Daniel spat, “How can you do that?”

“It’s not for everyone, granted,” I acknowledged, “But I happen to enjoy it.”

“Why, how?”

I explained to Daniel how a Uni friend introduced me to the kink of water sports after an intense anal session following a night out that failed to yield any pussy. Frustrated at our failure, we watched some pirated French scud films in which nubile women were willingly sodomised and facialised before taking hot piss in their smiling mouths.

After outlining some post-university experiences with both men and women during the first decade of the millennium, Daniel admitted that he was intrigued, even interested. His admission pleased me as I fancied engaging Daniel in that kink, but the priority was getting him involved in anal sex, which he was reluctant to do.

The tavern was at capacity now, and all this talk of water sports — and copious beer consumption – was taking its toll on my bladder, so I excused myself for the gents and eased my way through the sea of people fighting to receive service.

After draining the main vein, I ascended the stairs, where I bumped into the familiar stranger who smiled at me as we sidled against each other. Initially, I was not going to say anything, but curiosity got the better of me.
“Excuse me,” I asked, turning back to the pretty staff member, “Is your name Lyndal by any chance?”

“Er, yes,” She replied guardedly, “And you are?”

“You don’t recognise me?” I chuckled.

Lyndal stared hard, and I quickly noticed the recognition in her eyes. Her face went a deep crimson, and before I knew it, she wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly.

“Oh, Jason!” She yelled into my ear, “I thought it was you, but you’ve changed a lot.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, looking into her sparkling eyes, “Lost the hair and the weight.”

“Wow, you’re looking great!”

“I wasn’t sure you were you, either” I said, “Your hair has changed, and you’re wearing much less make-up.”

We hugged again, but Lyndal said she had to get back to work. Thinking quickly, I whipped out a business card and said that we ought to catch up sometime. She eagerly took the card and snaked it deftly into the pocket covering one of her shapely butt cheeks. Kissing me on the cheek, Lyndal quickly melted into the crowd and disappeared.

“Yep, it was her,” I said to Daniel when I re-joined him.

“You two hooking up then?” He laughed while draining his pint.

“I gave Lyndal my business card and asked her to contact me if she wanted to meet.”

“You sure that’s wise?” Daniel asked without a hint of jealousy in his voice.

“Hey, I’m older and wiser now,” I bluffed, “Best case scenario is a filthy one night stand, but I ain’t got any old feelings for her.”

“Not after what she did?” Daniel asked while raising an amused eyebrow.

“Exactly!”

“Good,” And with that, Daniel rose, bahis siteleri grabbed our empty glasses and proceeded to the bar.

Judging the likely extensive wait before returning, I took out my phone and pointlessly browsed my apps.

Ping!

A message popped into my inbox from an unknown number.

“Hey, it’s Lyndal,” It read, “Wanted to say how great it was to see you again. Wanna [sic] go on a date?”

A smiley-faced emoji accompanied the message.

“I would like that,” I replied, “What do you have in mind?”

Some time elapsed before I received a response.

“I have Sunday off,” Lyndal wrote, “Want to meet at the Pollyfish Island at lunchtime?”

“See you there.”

The location offered is a groovy little “pop-up” bar on the Evan Walker Bridge that spans the Yarra River. The bar serves bottled beer and BBQ food to jazz-fusion beats, and on a good day, it is a nice place to while away a Sunday afternoon.

“She asked me out,” I said when Daniel returned.

“I didn’t doubt it for a second,” He replied after clinking pints, “Just watch yourself.”

“I will,” I said.

While I was excited to catch up with Lyndal, I was mindful of Daniel’s earlier observations that someone as manipulative as Lyndal will have an agenda. Fast approaching forty years old, with a criminal conviction, a failed marriage and who knows what other skeletons hiding in the closest was not likely to make the best match.

Indeed, when we lived together in the late nineties, Lyndal financed her lifestyle by taking our credit cards, performing cash advances to keep up with the interest payments, despite pulling in a full-time wage.

Maybe an hour or so later, Daniel glanced at his magnificent Tag Heuer watch and said that he better makes tracks, else he incurs the wrath of his wife.

“You still want to have a fumble?” I asked, expectantly, my cock rising in my business slacks.

“Definitely,” Daniel beamed, “But we best go now.”

“After you, my friend.”

As we jostled to exit the tavern, I sent a quick text to Lyndal to say goodbye and confirming our date on Sunday. There was no response for the rest of the evening.

As we stumbled on to the wet street, the fresh air was rejuvenating despite the driving rain. Daniel and I quickly made our way to our usual concealed location and secured our bags against the fire escape door to guard against the weather.

Daniel behaved as if crazed by pushing me against the wall, immediately dropping to his knees and fumbling at my belt. Within seconds, my tumescent cock was down his generous throat. Each time my purple helmet smashed against his tonsils; Daniel grunted in satisfaction.

While I was the one that received the bulk of the pleasure, I was determined to return the favour and hopefully prod Daniel in the direction that I wanted to go, anal pleasure.

After he bathed my cock, tightening balls and taint with a liberal application of tongue and saliva, I hauled Daniel to his feet.

“No,” He protested meekly, “This is about you.”

“And you!”

I deftly undid Daniel’s belt and pulled his slacks down. The man was rock hard and very wet. He gasped in pleasure when I gripped his shaft hard and gave it several jerks. I gave serious consideration to throating him but decided to stick to my initial plan.

Spinning Daniel around to face the wall of the fire escape, I dropped to my knees and slapped both palms on his meaty arse cheeks. His globes felt amazing in my hands.

Without asking or explaining, I spread him wide and spat an enormous amount of saliva on his pucker.

“Oh,” He asked in surprise and terror, “What are you doing?”

“Just take what I give you,” I snarled before diving right into his sweaty O-ring.

“Oh, wow!” He gasped as my raspy tongue pricked his dirty hole, “Shit, that feels good.”

“No one’s done that to you, have they?” I asked condescendingly, coming up for breath with slime smeared across my face.

Reaching underneath Daniel’s taint, I took hold of his quivering spear and gently wanked it, causing him to spasm wildly.

Returning to his dirty pucker, my tongue flickered across the aperture, twitching violently, and sent darts of pleasure to Daniel’s brain. I felt the blood rush to his cock, hardening it beyond belief. He was close to a climax, and so I gave it my all, aching jaw notwithstanding.

“Oh, yes!” Daniel repeatedly hissed, his body trembling from a combination of pleasure and the weather.

With the rain increasing in its bahis şirketleri intensity, Daniel’s moans and grunts of pleasure were masked from unwanted attention.

“Oh, shit!” Whimpered Daniel, “Here it comes.”

And come he did! Daniel’s thick cock pulsated in my gentle grip while my cock was still lapping his sensitive O-ring. While his body shook hard, I felt ejection after ejection of boiling sperm fly out of his Jap’s eye, much of it coating my hand. I have never experienced such a reaction before, and it was electrifying.

After about ten seconds, I slowed my action, both tongue and hand, as Daniel flaked as his orgasm washed away.

“How was that?” I asked, exhilarated by the taste of Daniel’s chocolate starfish and by the strength of the orgasm I gave him.

“Oh, wow,” He whimpered in return, “I never knew that was a ‘thing’.”

“I knew you had a sensitive arsehole,” I said, rising to my feet and wiping my funky face.

“If that’s what you did to me,” Daniel panted, “I have to do it to you!”

“Be my guest,” I smiled as we switched places in that small alcove.

Attempting to mimic my action, Daniel struggled at first but quickly developed a rhythm, and soon I felt the familiar sensation of a vibrant tongue across my filthy muscle. The pleasure was indescribable as Daniel grunted and hissed, desperate to give me the orgasmic joy he recently, and for the first time, experienced.

Rimming and jerking me were two tasks he had not the skill for, so I quickly took over the latter. I knew I was not far from climaxing, but the feeling of his tongue up my arse was too good to end early. It had been about six years since I had anyone’s tongue deep inside my butt, and I meant to savour the sensation for as long as possible.

My tipping point arrived unusually. I felt my orgasm build strongly, and I delayed it for as long as possible, but at a converging moment, I could not withhold the assault. Simultaneously, I thought of Lyndal and Daniel, delicately inserted a finger up my crap factory.

“Fuck!” I yelled, “I’m going to come!”

“In my mouth!” Yelled Daniel with equal intensity.

He withdrew his finger, and I spun around to see his open mouth expecting my seed.

“Yeah, give it to me,” He panted with his tongue touching the base of my helmet.

“Shit!” I screamed and screwed my eyes tightly closed.

The resulting orgasm was volcanic. I lost all feeling in my testicles as they retreated deeply inside my pelvis while my shaft pumped bolts of steaming jism into Daniel’s mouth and over his face.

“Fucking yes!” He crowed as I tipped my filthy paint on the canvas of his face.

I could barely remain upright as my orgasm fogged my consciousness; my legs were shaking brutally as every colourful metaphor I knew was escaping my mouth.

“Mm, nice,” Giggled Daniel as he reacted to my climax, “Yummy.”

Eventually, I returned to normalcy but then twitched as Daniel gently throated my dying shaft.

“No more, mate,” I pleaded, “I can’t take it.”

“Fuck, that was a huge load,” Said Daniel trying to swallow the sperm that missed his mouth, and there were a lot of misfires during that orgasm, “Was it me or Lyndal?”

“Both actually,” I confessed.

“You should think about her more then!” He said, standing up and securing his slacks and wiping his face.

We hugged, but our energy levels were so depleted that it felt like two limp fish pressed together.

“Let’s get going,” Said Daniel after collecting his satchel.

“You go ahead,” I said, “I need to piss.”

“Really?” Daniel said, with renewed energy, “Can I watch?”

“Sure,” I said, stepping out of the safety of the alcove to piss in the alley.

A post-orgasmic piss is way easier to perform than a pre-climax equivalent for apparent reasons.

“Holy shit!” Exclaimed Daniel as a massive arc of Kilkenny-flavoured urine disappeared into the driving rain.

Subverting my expectations, Daniel placed several fingers into the stream. He expressed his surprise at how hot my piss was.

“Been holding it for a while,” I said.

“For me?”

“Not specifically,” I replied, after a relieving sigh,” But have at it.”

Then Daniel did something that raised my soul. He placed his pissy fingers in his mouth and sucked them dry. My heart stopped beating as I gauged his reaction.

“Salty but not unpleasant.”

“Nice one,” I beamed, “I might convert you yet.”

“Yes, that and some more anal fun!”

Zipping up my slacks and grabbing my back, I responded enthusiastically that those kinks were top on my list as we walked towards the train station, wet from the rain but tingling with the pleasure of powerful orgasms from rimming arseholes.

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