Tuesday, December 9, 2008


I'm aware, readers, that there's a certain redundancy to most of my posting: one more tale of good sex with a guy who I don't know all that well, interspersed with pictures of hot guys I've never met. And sometimes I feel like I should give you more, but I have compelling reasons to record a large majority of my sexual history on the blog. For one thing, it's fun to write about, and I remain hopeful that recording my interactions in a substantially honest manner keeps me from being too much like some sex blogs I read where at first I'm very turned on, but then I see entry after entry with the same porn cliches, and I start to think that the entries are largely fictional. And then there's the fact that b&c is out of town right now, so I have more free time, which means I have more sex, which means that I don't have to troll the missed connections ads for blog fodder. B&c will be home Saturday evening, and then my cock will pretty much be his and mine alone for a while. Maybe I'll post some recipes. (I made the best fruitcake ever this past weekend: I can't wait to see how good it is after a few weeks of soaking in rum.)

But the main reason that I write so much about my sex life is to maintain a searchable record. My memory for personal detail is never all that great, and it's much less great in the face of the overwhelming sensation of having an affable fellow writhing as my teeth hold and my tongue flicks over his nipple. So, just to choose an example, when I receive an email like this:
In May, 2007 I came to your house, walked in the front door and took my shirt off. I put a blindfold on.
You came out of a side room and took me up the stairs and to the right. I was put on a bed and tied down.
You had said you would fuck me--I should have expected that you would also stuff it in my mouth, making it hard to catch a breath.
You lubed me and fucked me and played with my nips.
It was first and only time.
You said I could come back.
I never saw you.
It would be amazing to be stuffed at both ends.
eighteen months or so after I interacted with the person in question, I'm able to go back in the archives (after searching gmail for older emails from the same guy, to narrow down the date) and determine that the email came from this guy.

And the gmail/archive combination is helpful because it tells me that a) this guy's worth doing again, and b) the last time, it took him over two months from initial contact to being tied on my bed, so I probably shouldn't count on a quick response from this guy. And, indeed, when I emailed the guy back, saying that I'd happily do him again but recognizing his obvious reticence, I heard nothing for over a week and then got this:
Most of the time the guilt feelings overwhelm the desire to be blindfolded and tied. Every now and again though.......
The morning I touched base, the thought that I could be done on two ends had kept me up all night.
Do you still use the blindfold?
I'll touch base when I'm ready.

So I know not to hold my breath. But that's not the real benefit. The real benefit is that while I was going through the May 2007 archives, I came across a post about another married submissive who happens to be local and who really loved some very intense nipple play. And because I knew when our last encounter had taken place, I was able to track down his email address and send him an email, asking whether he remembered me and wanted to play again. Yes and yes, as it happens. He wanted to play this past Saturday morning, but I was busy with YFU, so we'll probably get together this coming Saturday morning. His nipples will be sore for a week.

All of which is an overly long explanation of why (what's left of) this post is a summary of other sessions from the past weekend. I talked about one briefly and a second at length in my last post, but there were two others, and I especially want to be sure that I can find one of them again because he's a married guy who only has sex with a guy every six or eight months, and I'm pretty sure that when he's ready again, he'll turn to me. And I want to be able to figure out who he was because he was a lot of fun.

But before I get to him, I want to at least mention in passing that Logan spent the night last Thursday. I suppose I could let that one go without comment. Saying over and over again that I had absolutely freaking awesome sex with Logan is kind of like saying, "OMG, I just had the most fantastic bottle of Dom Perignon." Sure, it's great, but either you never have DP (I've never had DP: now I'm sad. OK, I'm over it now.), or you have it all the time, so it's no big deal. Except that really freaking awesome sex is always a big deal, so maybe the real lesson here is that I should forswear analogies.

Anyway, Logan came over Thursday night, after I got home from choir practice. And the only thing that was different was that I've learned that Logan likes things to move a little bit more slowly, so this time when we sat down with our glasses of wine to chat and neck, I never made any move to get up or to do more than kiss him and suck on his neck a bit, so that when he finally said that we should go to the bedroom, he was very worked up. And then when we got to the bedroom, I got him undressed and we continued making out, and I worked on his nipples some, but I never made a move for his ass, nor did I push his hands or head towards my cock, and, again, he got so worked up from the languor that he had to dive for my cock and then beg to be fucked, and when I fucked him for a very long time in multiple positions until my cock finally felt like it was going to burst right through the condom -- and maybe through its skin -- and I came hard, I had not, for once, fucked the cum out of him, but he told me that it was the best ever. Then he fell asleep in my arms, and that was swell, too.

Sunday evening, after hot-married-guy-who-wants-cock-once-every-six-to-eight-months left, I got a text message from Vic, the cute young Desi guy who usually comes over when I'm having a group scene. He's asked to come over and then not followed through two or three times over the last ten days, so when he asked if I was home alone, I told him I was, but I didn't expect anything to come of it. Then he asked if he could come over, and I said sure. Then he said he'd be there at 9. Cool. Then he called at 9:20 to say he was leaving his place and asking me to text him the address. Clearly, this is a guy who wishes he could quit me: he keeps deleting the emails that tell him where I live, even though he'd already been to my place at least three times. But I texted him the address, and he showed up. Closer to 10 than to 9, but who's counting, right? He was wearing a coat that was inadequate to both the weather and his thin frame, so he was shaking. I kissed him briefly, then pushed him upstairs, threw him on the bed, and covered him with myself and a comforter until he warmed up a bit.

Vic moans and shakes whenever he's excited, and he's excited whenever any part of my body touches any part of his, especially his nipples, nuts, ass, or armpits. I only discovered that last part Sunday night. He's always liked to be pinned under me, but when I pinned him down, held his arms over his head, and licked and chewed on his pits, he almost jumped out of his skin. Which would be a shame: he has exceptionally beautiful dark brown skin, but I'm sure it's nicer when he's in it.

In the past, Vic has never let me fuck him, but this time I didn't bother asking. After spending an extended time eating his ass, I slid on a condom, lubed up, ran my tongue up his spine, and slowly slid most of the way into him. He continued to moan and shake, and I went from slow to faster. I never really got to the pounding stage: after seven or eight minutes of fucking with him on his stomach, I tried turning him over so I could fold him up and bang harder on his prostate, but he was too sore to take me inside again. (He doesn't get fucked much.) So I went down on him (small, thin, dark uncut cock: yes!) for a couple of minutes, and then we made out while I stroked him. He took over stroking, and I moved my hand up to one of his nipples, with my mouth alternating between his mouth and his other nip. It took a while -- at one point he apologized for taking so long; I said, "I'm not complaining!" -- but eventually he was stroking faster and faster. At that point I had one hand down playing with his nuts, and I could feel them continue to retract until they were almost inside his body, and then he shot hard. It was great.

It wasn't really the best part of the evening, though. I got a response to one of my craigslist ads with a guy who gave me a link to his own. It was only moderately promising, but he seemed nice enough. It was my first session after my no-kissing encounter from late Friday night, though, so I wanted to be sure there'd be plenty of making out. When I asked him specifically whether he liked to kiss, he replied that he wasn't very good at it. Oy. When I wrote back that it was mandatory, he said that he liked kissing, and he'd be happy to make out withme. So I decided to take a chance and gave him my number.

He called me from his car, saying he was heading out, so I gave him directions and jumped in the shower. It was very cold out, and when he showed up, he was all bundled up, so I pulled him inside and, wrapping my arms around all the layers, pulled him into two minutes of kissing. "Dude. Who told you you weren't a good kisser?" "Um, I just kind of figured...." "You were misinformed." He smiled, pulled off his hat and coat. (He told me later that he had also almost passed on playing with me because I was nervous but that the immediate kissing put him at ease. Cool, even though I mostly just do it to avoid showing how bad I am at small talk.) Kind of geeky cute: yum. I pointed upstairs and slid my hand inside the waistband of his jeans as I followed him. I pulled off my sweater and glasses and stashed my cellphone, and he handed me his glasses, and I tossed him on the bed and started kissing him again. I always kind of like it when a guy gets so immediately lost in the kissing that he doesn't realize he's halfway off the bed. I always have to laugh and pull them up. And then go back to kissing them.

The sex was pretty standard, but standard in the very good way that it can be with someone who very rarely allows himself the joy of cock. I knew that his wife was out of town, so there wasn't much of a hurry, and I took my time getting to his nipples and then getting his t-shirt off and then removing his jeans and then unzipping the back of his somewhat peculiar speedo-ish underwear. Before the unzipping, while I was kissing him and working his nipples, I rubbed his cock through the underwear until I could feel some precum, then I pulled just his nuts free of the underwear and played with them. He was very into all of it. The only thing that didn't seem to send him over the edge was when, after he had sucked on my cock for a while, I ate his ass for a bit. He didn't seem to mind it, and he didn't mind kissing after I'd eaten it (lots of inexperienced married guys will spend forever getting their ass clean for you but will shrink from the idea of kissing you after you've licked it), but it didn't seem to do much for him. Maybe it was just that he was so focused on my cock. He told me how nice it was and how much he wanted to be fucked, so I handed him a condom, and he put it on me. Then he straddled me and tried to sit on it, but that didn't really work, so I put him on his stomach and eased into him. He was very tight, but he didn't have much trouble taking all of my cock.

We fucked for a good while, and he eventually was able to sit on my cock. He looked like it was something of a religious experience for him. Eventually he said that he wasn't sure he could take any more, and I was ready for some more kissing, so we lay next to each other, and we made out while I slowly stroked his cock. I kept him on the edge for a while, and I meant to keep him on the edge for longer, but at some point I miscalculated, and when I looked up from a long kiss, his pubes were covered with semen. We cleaned up, and then we chatted for a while, and then I put him on his stomach and straddled him while I gave him a massage. It was all very guys-hanging-out, but with fucking instead of football. Then we went back to slow and easy making out, and when he started to nod off in my arms, he finally roused himself. I'd have let him sleep, but he had to get home and take care of the dogs, so he got dressed and left, after a hug and some more kisses at the door.


The Blackout Blog said...

Haha! That first picture is from a monthly party I go to called BaƱa! He's usually naked when he's serving drinks but has started to wear underwear recently, which is particularly disappointing when he reaches for ice in the cooler on the floor behind him.

I should have known I'd recognize someone in one of these photos someday.

Will said...

Ted--any possibility that fruitcake recipe might be available to a regular reader?