I apologize in advance, readers. I know that most, if not all, of you have been coming here with 'bated breath to hear my take on the federal government's recent takeover of the mega mortgage companies, but I just don't feel up to saying that it's a seriously bad idea that reeks of economic and political desperation, so I'm going to try to distract you with a bright shiny object and talk about last night's romp.
I'm pretty sure that I mentioned, but didn't write about in detail, a guy who came over a few weeks ago and had sex with me for three hours and managed to relieve me of two loads. He's been waiting ever since for a return invitation, so last night I had him over. This time, I only came once, and he was only there for about two hours and fifty minutes, but it was still beyond awesome. In fact, it's a little hard to write about because sex with Judd is a lot like taking a long, hot shower (minus the wrinkling): it's terrific and very likely the best part of your day, but it takes you out of your head, or into a part of your head where words are irrelevant, and no matter how much activity you got up to while you were in the moment, afterwards, the whole thing is just a warm, pleasant blur. (By the way, in case you were wondering, I was originally going to say that sex with Judd is a lot like a hot bath. Hence, the pictures. Exactly why almost every picture I found of an attractive man in a bathtub seems to feature a bear is something I can't explain, but I probably don't post enough pictures of bears, anyway, and I certainly don't want them to feel left out.)
Physically, Judd isn't all that. He has a nice body, but he's frankly (and I don't mean this unkindly, because I just don't care) a little bit odd looking. But he entwines easily into my arms, and he kisses like heaven. I know that I never waste any time before I start kissing a play date, but when, as I almost always do, I pulled him into my arms and started to kiss him, it was like putting on a favorite shirt that you've just pulled out of the dryer on a cold morning. Except with wood. I pointed him upstairs, walked behind him, and pushed my hands up the legs of his shorts and inside his underwear to squeeze his ass.
When we got to the bedroom, I had to fiddle with the lights, and when I turned back, he was already undressed. I stripped down to my boxers, laid him on the bed, and we went back to kissing. And, again, it's hard to describe. When I kiss some guys, I get all revved up and aggressive. When I kiss Judd, I might be sucking -- sometimes very firmly -- on his lower lip or licking and then biting his neck or pulling his earlobe between my teeth, and I might be doing any and all of this with great eagerness, but I feel like I'm just lying there and letting everything wash over me. It's a feeling of great peace, of being centered, I guess. Of being in the absolute right situation for the time.
And it continued that way for a long time, because there was nothing that I wanted more than to lie there and kiss him and lick him and bite his nipples and nibble on his armpits and pin him to the bed and listen to him sigh and moan. Eventually, though, he decided that he needed to be sucking on the cock that he'd been playing with, so he started to go down on me, and then I really did lie there and let it all wash over me. For an extended period, until I could work up the ambition to pull him to me for another round of making out.
This time while we were kissing, he began running his nails lightly along my back, and it got me even more turned on. I rubbed his ass a little and then reached between his legs to rub the precum around his cockhead with my thumb. And we kept kissing. And then at some point, he wanted to go down on me again. I still had my boxers on, but they're very loose cotton boxers that I only wear when I'm going to have sex, so it was easy to work around them, I guess. I figured it was time to treat myself to his ass, so I pulled him most of the way around and started tracing my fingers up and down his thighs.
When I finally pulled his knee over so that I was in between his legs and then started to spread his cheeks and lick his (amazingly clean) ass, I couldn't help noticing that he's the extremely rare person whose cocksucking technique improves while he's being rimmed. Most guys lose control and start with the excessive tooth action, but his blowjob got less and less dental the deeper I shoved my tongue into his ass. I also couldn't help noticing that my tongue was a little sore, probably from all the rimming I'd done with the hotel guy the night before. Note to self: look into tongue exercises; failures of tongue endurance are unacceptable. Fortunately, I was able to rim through the (very slight) pain until Judd found the absence of my cock from his ass unacceptable.
It was mildly amusing when Judd condomed me up without removing my boxers, but after he first sat on my ass (without lube, by the way) and lowered himself into X position and groaned loudly (though not so loudly as to disturb my great feeling of calm horniness; seriously, how is it possible to feel so calm when your cock is that hard?) for a good while, when he sat up and rolled off me, I figured it was time to lose the boxers.
When I had them off, I put him on his stomach and (again without lube) re-entered him. I started off sucking on his earlobe as I pushed deep into him, but I soon started biting down hard on his shoulder as I plowed. He was, when he wasn't groaning incoherently, very encouraging of all my activities, and I responded accordingly. By fucking him harder, I mean. Sometimes I'd push all the way into him and listen to him groan and start to lick his ears and then kiss his cheek until he'd turn his head so our lips could meet.
I remember looking at the clock when I'd first put him on his stomach. We'd fucked for about ten minutes when he'd been on top and we'd been in X position, and when I shoved into him from on top, it was 8:49. I thought that I'd hold out until 9:00 and blow my load then, but even though the lack of lube didn't seem to be a problem for him, he was so tight that I doubted my ability to hold off for that long, and, indeed, at 8:56, I had to pull out in order to avoid a premature ejaculation. We made out for a few minutes, and he stared at me with the vacant stare of the well fucked, and I put him on his back, shoved his legs forward, wrapped his ankles around my neck, and pushed back into him.
Judd scooted down so that he'd be more pretzeled, in order, I assume, to give me a better angle at his prostate. I decided that it was time to try to get in touch with my inner jackhammer. "Be the jackhammer," I said to myself. OK, yes, I'm making that last bit up: there was no such inner dialog. But there very well might have been because I started pounding him for all I was worth, and, modesty aside for a moment, when I'm worked up I'm worth quite a lot in the pounding department. His eyes had gone from that vacant stare to that I-may-die-if-you-continue-but-I-will-sure-as-hell-kill-you-if-you-stop look, and his groans had grown to what would likely be called screaming. And I was only able to keep it up for a few minutes before I was screaming and cumming hard hard hard hard hard.
Then (well, three or four minutes later) I pulled out and we started kissing again, but in a very lazy and comfortable manner because we were both spent. He hadn't actually shot a load, and he didn't shoot one later, but he was very clearly satisfied. "Wow," he said, "I thought the last time was amazing, but I can't remember the last time I was fucked like that." I could not help but agree that it could reasonably be called an intense fuck.
And then he left. Well, seventy-five or so minutes later, I mean. We found it somewhat difficult to disentangle. We cuddled and kissed and chatted at some length. It was what afterglow should always be like.
Is it possible to be brutally honest without being brutal? B&c and I have good sex, but I've never felt like sex with him is something that I can lose myself in. Frankly, I'm not sure I'd want to feel that way, and I have to think that b&c shares my feelings. Similarly, Judd is a very nice guy, and I think there's a good chance that we'll be friends, but I can't imagine that, even if I were single, he'd ever be the kind of guy I'd fall in love with. I guess I really don't get that whole thing where guys say that sex with someone you love is always so much better than casual sex. Some people would probably say that not having both with the same guy is settling. I'd tend to cast it more as an honest acknowledgment that it's more important that the guy you spend your life with be someone that you can go on vacation with than someone you can have the most amazing sex ever with. Decent sex is necessary but not sufficient for a relationship. World-rocking sex is great, but it's no basis for a relationship. I would, however, enjoy hearing a well-articulated argument for the other point of view.