Eucharist II:
The Bottom's Point of View
by Will Preston

There stands my top: black eyes, raven hair, black mustache, dressed in black leather. He is a man half-Hispanic, half-Asian. In him the passions of two cultures have blended to form one incredible, sensual animal. Everything about him is tight, compact and trim. His square face is framed by a perpetual five o'clock shadow. My Daddy. He is a head shorter than I am and a decade younger, but he's my daddy nonetheless. "Daddy," after all, is an attitude.

My eyes fall on the scar he got when he was in a San Pedro gang getting drunk and beating up rivals. He once told me, "It just seemed to be the thing to do until I met you." Now he's sober and uses his fists to punch and pound my ass. It's hard to imagine that this passionate man was once so brutal and so badly beaten. It's as though his spirit had been cleansed by suffering. He has turned from a fighter to a lover, a fist-fucking ass lover who can't get enough.

With one hand he has a death grip on my shaved balls; with the other hand he is trying to pull my nipple off my chest, zapping my brain and bringing my dick to full attention. The louder I moan, the harder he pulls. He looks down at my dick straining with pleasure. "You love it, don't you, boy?"

The sensation is so intense I can barely answer, "Yes, sir."

It's not enough. "Tell me you love it," he demands, stretching my balls another inch.

"I love it, Daddy!" I moan.

"Yeah, you love it. Look at that big dick get hard. My boy loves it."

My Daddy likes his boys tall and blond and talented, with big, hungry assholes. And this boy knows his place--on the bottom.

The hair on his chest seems to trickle down his stomach like water, falling into a pool of black fur where his dick stands. It's a tree in that forest, leaking precious sap. He grabs the base of his dick and milks it. "Here's some honey for you, boy."

I fall to my knees. I don't want that glob of precum to go to waste. I stretch out my tongue and lick it up, poking into his hole to savor every sweet, salty drop. It makes him shiver.

But what I love most is having this top's fist up my butt. It's like part of me is missing when he's not inside of me. A feeling of loss sweeps over me from time to time and I have to pick up the phone and call him.

"What are you doing, Dad?" I ask.

"What do you want me to be doing?" he answers. We both know the answer to that.

"Are you always ready?" I ask.

"I was born ready. Are you always horny?"

"For you."

His hot blood is perpetually steaming. He reaches down and grabs my hair, pulling my face to him. Pressing his lips and mustache against my mouth, he sucks out my soul. My guts melt as his hands coast down my smooth torso. Grabbing my prick he hoists me to my feet.

The index finger of his left hand slips into my nipple ring. He lets the full weight of his hand hang there as the other crawls down my back and slides between my cheeks. His hot, brown hand scalds my white butt like a branding iron. He finds my pucker, and growls knowingly.

"I'm going to take good care of you," he says, talking to my hole. A freshly filed and manicured finger probes my crinkle. He pulls back his hand and spits on his fingers. His mouth is on mine again, his hand is reaching past my low hanging balls and between my legs for a better angle at my ass. His moistened finger probes my hole as his tongue explores my mouth. His finger digs into me and massages my prostate. I'm on edge, but spit just isn't enough.

He reaches for a can of grease, pops the top, and jams two fingers in like a shovel. He stuffs his greasy fingers up my butt--two, then three. I moan down his throat.

I spread my legs, bracing myself against him. Four fingers stretch my slimy pucker, teasing. The thumb slides in. "I've got to put it in you," he whispers hoarsely. I try to keep my balance. I hear a wave crash outside my window as he slides his hand in, up to the wrist.

'AAAAACHHH! Oh God, that feels good." He's in me, this fucking top is in me again. I hear the surf crashing outside the window there's a storm on its way, like the storm that's brewing in my ass. He twists and pumps his fist, lifting my heels off the floor. He works my hole, demanding that it relax. A trickle of clear water from my last douche runs down his arm and drips off his elbow, leaving a pool in the moonlight on the floor.

Now he slides his hand out and turns me around. He wipes the
grease off my open hole with his red bandanna and sucks up my assholc with his mouth. His firey tongue stabs into me. Trying to get deeper he spreads my checks with his hands, sucking and slurping like a frenzied animal. I push down a little to shove my open pucker into his mouth, and he goes crazy. He pulls his spit-glazed face back to take a breath. Staring into my slimy pucker, he speaks to it: "I get drunk from the taste of you. Sometimes at night when I taste the salt air on my lips I get homesick for you."

Smacking his lips he dives between my butt cheeks for more. The feel of his soft, full lips and coarse mustache makes my legs weak- I can see him between my legs, greasing up his hands. He knows I'm watching, so he makes an elaborate spectacle of applying grease thoroughly to every part of his hands and wrists. He fists one hand with the other just to taunt me.

Finally, a glob of grease goes up my ass, followed by his hand. He sits back on his legs, stroking his bronze cock, reaching up my butt hole. I stand erect, pulling on my cock, letting my balls bounce against his arm. I know he likes to fuck me while I'm standing up. My daddy likes to watch his hand disappear into my round butt.

Bending my legs just a little, I bounce on his hand, which makes him beat his meat even harder. He loves stroking his bulky dick but, if the choice is playing with his own dick or with my butt, I win by an asshole. So he slides his left hand out and slides the right one in. It's a little bit bigger. He twists and strokes until I relax. Then he pulls It out and shoves the left one back in. Right, left, right, left, and he has me bobbing up and down like a buoy on a restless ocean.

I know this little punk gets off on making me dance like a puppet. I'm trying to relax my ass and keep my balance and play with my raging dick all at the same time. His hands are rhythmically digging a hole in me. My head is getting light and I feel like I'm going to faint.

"Stop a minute, I have to catch my breath," I plead. He pulls his hand out and stands up. I turn and face him, trying to keep my butt hole out of his reach for a moment.

"You look like you need to get off your feet," he says with feigned concern. With one greasy finger he pushes me backwards onto the red leather sofa. He places my feet into the stirrups that hang from the steel beam in the ceiling.

"Comfortable?" he asks. I nod, catching my breath.

"Good. Just relax. The only thing you have to do is get fucked.

I can't believe the fierceness of this butch little top. When he's playing in my ass he acts as if it's all he has to live for. I've heard him say, "The only thing left in the world that makes any sense is pumping my arms up your ass."

Sometimes when we're in public, walking through a parking lot or standing in the checkout line, he'll reach down and play with my asshole through my Levi's. He Just has to touch it. It seems to pacify him. He once told me that the reason he plays with my asshole when he kisses me goodnight is so he can sniff my ass-punk scent on his fingers while he's falling asleep. He says, "That smell gives me strange dreams."

He takes a moment to adjust the mirrored folding screen. He likes the ceremony of fisting, setting the lights, selecting the music, having me file his nails, shaving my ass, adjusting the mirrors.

"Can you see okay?"

"Perfect," I answer.

He knows I love to watch myself get fucked. The idea that he's got his fist going in and out of me is so incredible that I sometimes have to see it to believe it. As much as I love to get fisted, I never remember how great it feels until his fist is poundIng against the walls of my craving cave again.

I thrust my hips toward him and relax my legs. He pushes up toward my stomach and I can see his hand in my guts. It almost feels ticklish. It is so fucking amazing to see his hand creating this mound, roaming my abdomen like some alien being alive inside me. I reach down and put my hand on his. He pushes up to make more contact.
When I pull my hand away, my dick flops hack against my belly. The mound moves down my stomach, under my cock, and bobs up and down, making my cock bounce. The ticklish feeling gets stronger, and the tingle of my bouncing cock makes me laugh. He laughs, too. He's having a good time playing in me.

He is an indefatigable fucker. I never have to worry about him wearing out before 1 do. When he's got his arm buried to the hilt in my hole, he's a man without a single other thought in his head. He slides his hand out and slips the other in with a handful of grease. He clenches his fist and grease squeezes out between his fingers to lubricate my guts. He stares, fascinated, at his own arm moving in and out of me.

I let my head fall back and relax my guts for him. I feel him starting to concentrate on my second sphincter. Slowly and gently he opens me up. His hand slides through my second sphincter and my asshole stretches around his smooth, hairless forearm. There is something about that stretchthat sensation of accommodating, of making room within my body for my man that makes me hotter than hell.

"All you have to do is get fucked," he said at the beginning. Those are the words that echo in my head.

"Surrender your butt to me," he whispers. "That's it. It's mine and I want it. Oh yeah. YEAH!"

His words caress me. Now that I'm open, he pulls his wrist to the edge of my hole and slams it in again to the hilt. His arm starts to stroke in time to the music. The more he fucks, the more I relax. My second sphincter and asshole have become no more than speed bumps. All the way out, babump; all the way in, ba-bump. His forearm sweeps in me and out of me like the tide.

He switches hands without breaking rhythm. "Listen to that sloppy asshole slurp up my arm. Gawd, I love that sound." Grease is bubbling out of the boiling pot of my asshole. He pulls his hand out, closes his fist, and punch-fucks my gaping cavity. That sloppy, juicy sound gets louder.

"Fist-fuck me. Yeah, fist-fuck me!" I command and he mauls me ferociously.

"Man, I never fucked nobody like I fuck you. You make my dick so hard. I wish I had a third hand just to work my prick. But that one would probably be up your butt, too. Your hole is so fuckin' excellent it just ain't never enough."

Flattery is the best lubricant. The pounding persists until my balls tighten against my vibrating dick, and my ass becomes a rigid, ravenous tunnel of obsession and desire. I can't hold back any longer. The fire in my ass ignites, flames shoot out of my dick, flares explode across my body

Finally, I collapse like a lump of warm gelatin. My first cum has left me limp and scorched. I am so dazed I can't make out the words he is saying, but his soft, reassuring voice soothes me. I take another deep breath and start to come back to reality.

I feel him slide his hand back in to help squelch the fire and restore me. While he talks, he is sliding his right hand alongside his left. just the fingers at first, folded into his cupped hand. I try to concentrate on his eyes as my ass stretches. There is determination in those deep, dark eyes and confidence in that manly smile.

"Don't think about it," he says, as if reading my mind. Could it be that through the process of climbing inside my solar plexus, he somehow touches my soul, turns us into one person? There is nothing better than being a bottom to this man. I am so lost in how handsome he is and so entranced by his masculinity that I'm not even aware that he has maneuvered both his hands into me.

"Look at that," he says, gesturing toward the mirror with his head. Turning to my reflection I see my hole spanning both his wrists.

"That's right, man. Look at that big ol' asshole. Yeah, that's my boy's hole eating me alive."

As soon as he senses I'm comfortable, he starts piston-fucking me, right, then left, without removing his hands from my man trap. I feel like my ass is melting from the friction. This fucker is so relentless. I can't believe I can take this but, if I lie back and let him have it, it just feels better and better. What a pig.

He pulls both hands out. I turn my head to see my gaping hole in the mirror, just hanging there, open. "It looks like a perfect weld bead," he says. Then he makes a fist and starts punch fucking my hole. Slamming into it over and over again. Piss starts spurting across my belly as he pushes against my
bladder. It feels like I'm coming as it floods over me. The constant pressure of his fist keeps me pissing. The more I piss the more it feels like one long cum but it's not the cum he's looking for. Finally the torrent stops but he doesn't.

My dick becomes rigid again and grows across my stomach. Just because I keep taking it he keeps throwing blow after blow at me, harder and harder. My cock gets stiffer and stiffer as it flops against me, splashing in my piss. He pounds with a vengeance. My whole body is rocking with the impact, but there is no longer any resistance. He slams through this open door right into my gutsbam, bam, bam-punching my hole open like a juicy red cave.

"Open that hole for me, fucker." I am drunk on his demands. I don't care if I ever walk again. He keeps punching. My guts are closing down and I try to resist the feeling but I can't. Finally he is pushed out and, without being touched, my exploding dick launches a rocket of cum across my belly.

"Aaaaaaaggghhhh!" I am a quivering lump, wallowing in piss and grease.

"Oh God, I love to pump the cum out of you," he pants. "I love to give you goose bumps." He reaches over and grabs a black leather pouch. He unties the thong with his teeth and spills out a dozen polished stone eggs. He is always finding some new thing to shove up my ass.

"Get down on the floor on your knees with your butt in the air," he commands. I'd hang from my heels if that was how he wanted to fuck me. His hand goes in first to open me up.

"Man, your hole just opened like a cave," he says. "I can put my fist in there and not even touch the sides. I guess I'll have to fill that space up for you." The first egg falls in and I feel it hit bottom. The next plops in and hits the first with a click.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yeah."

Stone after stone falls into my guts. After about six or seven I begin to feel the pull. He reaches between my legs and pushes up on my hanging belly, making the balls click together and roll around inside of me. He picks up another gleaming stone. Instead of pushing it through my gaping hole he holds it in his fist and shoves it in. God, I feel so full. After he is in, he lets go and the rock falls among the others. The last four go in the same way. I have become the new pouch to store his precious stones.

Cum is dripping from my dick in long strings as he pushes up on the outside of my belly, shoving the stones into my guts and then letting go, stretching my belly and opening up my cavernous fuck hole more and more.

"Ok," he says. "Sit back and shit them out for me." As I lean back on my legs, I feel his hidden treasure shift and fall, clunking against my asshole. I push down, and my asshole opens and stretches around the first egg. Then the rest of them shoot out suddenly like machinegun fire. The greasy bullets are smashing into the floor, spinning and bouncing, slamming into my balls. I feel like my guts have fallen out. As I sit on my nest of slimy eggs, a glob of cum oozes out of my dick.

I am so weak and dizzy I can't hold my head up. I roll onto the floor and gaze up at this relentless fucker. His brown skin glistens. I am covered in sweet sweat, steaming piss, and hot cum. He kneels between my legs and rests my feet on his shoulders. Without a word he slides his arm back in me just because we both know that is where it belongs.

Not a breath of air is stirring in the room. Then like magic the storm finally breaks. There is a clap of thunder and the clouds burst. Cool air rushes through the open windows and rain begins to beat rhythmically on the skylights.

I am wallowing in grease like a pig, with a man's arm in my guts, and I know my life is a gift. This man is a consummate fister and I have been given the opportunity to
be his instrument and experience his music. I am honored by the gods to be given the privilege of sharing my hole with such a masterful player. My senses are reeling, but there's no time to sort them out. Between the thunderclaps and the squalls that lash the windowpanes, sending water across the floor, another storm is starting to rumble in my guts. He pulls his arm out to the widest part of his forearm and then pushes it back in, rocking me rhythmically.

"Mmmmmmmmmm." I am just a mass of sensation. The world has disintegrated and I am floating in the cosmos. Holding his arm deeply inside me and bending his fingers around the curve in my guts, he inches his hand against my third sphincter. My ass is filled with his biceps.

"Breathe," he reminds me. "That's it. I can feel a whole empty room just waiting for me. Let your legs down. Rest your feet on my thighs. Relax." I want so much for him to make it into this virgin space.

"Oh God," I moan, "it's so tight."

"Breathe. I won't hurt you. I know how much you want it, but I won't go anywhere until you're ready. Breathe. Close your eyes."

I do as he says. There is a burst of color and MY guts relax. As if my eye is at one end of this long fuck tunnel I can see his fingers probing the other end, reaching toward me. There is golden light streaming in around his hand as his fingers extend into an open chamber. I am filled with calm. The music we were listening to has moved off into the distance. The tightness in my guts and my asshole has subsided.

I am one big fuck hole and my top is climbing inside of me like a caterpillar in a cocoon. I can't tell where he ends and I begin. I have lost all sense of time and space. Pleasure has become a thing instead of a feeling and I am adrift on it. I am rocking and floating on a sea of light. I don't know how much time has passed. When I finally do look down, I see his face and shoulder are nestled in my crotch. I can see no sign of his arm.

"How are you doing?" he smiles as though I have awakened from a dream to find him watching me sleep.

"Fine," I answer through half opened eyes. My dick is standing straight up. The idea of jacking off, full of this man's arm, has me hard as a rock. I grab my cock and start stroking it. He is jacking his own dick and that causes his shoulder to rock against my ass. I am aware of every curve and muscle that is in me. There's no room for cum in me and it shoots out like the Trevi fountain. Streams of cum are gushing into the air--his and mine--and landing around us in great splashes.

Our dicks are drained dry but we keep pumping out the last phantom cums. I don't have strength in me to push him out. He rests his head on my dripping cock and empty balls. I reach down to tangle my fingers in his shimmering black hair, and we fall asleep.