A regular asked me to be as smelly and sweaty as possible for our session.
So I did an extra sweaty workout at the gym yesterday then packed my dirty gym clothes away in my gym bag overnight with my gym shoes, boxing gloves and boxing hand wraps so the whole lot could stew in their combined juices.
Then I took them out and wore them again at the gym a second time this morning.
I took care to keep my distance from other people at the gym. I suspect the cloud of testosterised pheromones that was emenating from me is FDA disapproved as a possible performance enhancing drug.
Also there's a very real possibility the aphrodisiac qualities of my armpit aromas might send an entire spin class into a frenzy of unbridled passion. One good waft of my two day old pants clad ball sweat and they'd go berserk. Writhing on the rubberised mats. Tearing each others lycra off with their teeth.
I did wash my cock, balls and ass before he arrived. Smelly pants is one thing but I can't do bad hygiene.
After his massage I got him to kneel down before my musky crotch garments, grabbed him by the back of the head and embraced him. Face first against my pungent banana hammock.
He was very vocally appreciative via muffled moans of pleasure partially stifled by my stank clad loins.
Dirty boy. One of my favourite regulars.
Thanks to Hentai Kamen, Panty Powered Super-Pervert, for the Featured Image.
Mistress Diana and I were reunited 6 long years after our last collaboration. This time a duo with a regular client of hers who decided he's ready to try a real cock up his ass. He's been practicing for years on Diana's strap-ons and even takes her entire fist.
She had him on a gynecologists examination chair with his ankles up in stirrups. Well anaesthetised by poppers applied to a tissue inside a flask connected to a surgical gas mask. Her hand lubed up with the optimum variety of lube for fisting. It comes as a powder and when mixed with water makes a weird, simultaneously slippery and sticky substance inclined to form freaky tendrils stretching between whichever two surfaces it last touched.
On close examination, my cock is almost as thick as her forearm and about as long from elbow to wrist. I don't have a fist clenchable hand on the end of mine but who knows? Maybe one day. The miracles of modern medicine.
We alternated. Fist. Cock. Fist. Cock etc. Fun times.
Afterwards, I went to take a shower and found a bewildering array of levers, taps and spigots. On the end of one hose was a rubber tube with a tapered end designed for deep cleaning an anus in preparation for fisting. My new friend had put this to good use. He was clean and fresh as a daisy up there.
I didn't want to interrupt Mistress Diana as she was still otherwise engaged (elbow deep in her gentleman friend). So I slowly turned one tap. Nothing happened. So I flipped a lever. The bum douche nozzle fired a jet of water at me. I dodged that shit like the Matrix. If you watched a slow-mo action reply you'd see me blurring the space time continuum. I accelerated so repidly some of my particles produced antimatter. Faster than a speeding water jet out of an enema hose. Her ceiling was not so lucky.
I heard manly laughter and ladylike giggles. They'd both twigged to exactly what happened. Must have felt the disturbance in the force caused by my heroic evasive manoeuvre. Either that, or they heard water hit the ceiling and splat down to the bathroom floor.
