A stick of butter (salted Land-O-Lakes, 1/4 pound, still in its wrapper) is approximately 4.75 inches long. The other two dimensions, for the sake of completeness, are each approximately one-and-three-eights inches. This information is not readily available on the Internet, so I figured I'd put it out there in case anyone needs to know.
I'd gotten an inquiry, on one of the hook-up sites, about possibly getting together with a hot Black guy (short, bald, muscular, hung) who wanted to spend some time sucking me off. He didn't want anything else, but I figured if he was half as good at oral as he claimed to be, I'd have a good time. He'd seen a picture of my business, and that was why he was interested, but when I read his profile, I found out that he was a real size queen. I'm perfectly happy with what I've got, but I recognize that while it's impressively thick, it's not much longer than average, and I wanted to be clear about that with this guy, so I emailed him. He emailed back asking whether I was shorter than, as long as, or longer than a stick of butter. He asked a similar question about my girth. I was pretty sure that I was bigger, in all directions, than a stick of butter, but I was at my desk, and I really couldn't remember how big a stick of butter was, and I simply could not find the information on the Net. Fortunately, I found an old butter cutter on Ebay, and by holding my ruler up to the monitor, measuring the handles and the overall length of the picture, noting the length of the actual object from the Ebay ad, and doing some elementary math, I was able to determine that a stick of butter could not be any longer than five inches. So I was easily home free. I emailed the size queen, and he said that he'd be happy to drop by at noon on Sunday.
I lied, apparently, when I said I was going to leave my Saturday evening sex life in the hands of fate. I answered a couple of CL ads, and I ended up in a lengthy (always a bad sign, unless your objective is just some horny correspondence, which is okay from time to time) exchange with a young'un who wanted to expand his experience with submission into full-on bondage. I grew somewhat weary after the twentieth email, and I told him to call me after 6 if he was serious about hooking up. I figured he probably wasn't, but he'd said that -- after some making out and sucking my cock -- he wanted to be gagged with duct tape. Ouch, but, hey, it's not my pain. There are probably no houses in America without at least a couple of rolls of duct tape, but I didn't know where ours was, and besides, I'll take any excuse to make a trip to Home Depot. And not even to cruise in the men's room, just to see all of those rows and rows of categorized hardware and other building materials. Plus the men in jeans. Anyway, I got my roll of duct tape. I also picked up a sturdy but inexpensive gray tote bag and a pair of knee pads. You just never know when you might need a last-minute hostess gift.
It was after six when I got home, and I figured I wouldn't hear from the young'un (twenty-seven, if memory serves), but I took a shower anyway. I was halfway dressed when it occurred to me to measure a stick of butter. And then it occurred to me to pull my cock out through the fly in my boxer briefs, jerk it off slightly, and take a picture of it with a stick of butter in front of it, just to demonstrate that there was additional cock showing around all sides of the stick of butter. I wasn't all that worked up, and the butter (I left it wrapped) was cold, so it wasn't an easy thing to do, but I did it. Then I sent it off to the size queen. I mean, why not?
I was finishing getting dressed when the cellphone made its text message noise. It was Nike: "Hey u wanna hook up asap??" Not really a surprise. I replied I could come get him right away, but apparently "asap" means in forty-five minutes. He also asked whether I could find someone else to join us. When you live in the exurbs, it's really helpful to have more notice than that, but I happened to be surfing through a site dedicated to more mature men, and I saw a likely candidate who had his webcam trained on his chest. And it was a gorgeous chest, too, all fuzzy and with very prominent nipples that he said, when I asked, loved to be worked over. He was also a submissive bottom. And he was old. I have a fairly liberal age range, but while I joke that I go from barely legal to barely breathing, I generally don't go as old as this guy. Still, the nips on the webcam were calling to me. Besides, I'm pretty much twice Nike's age, and this guy was nowhere near twice my age, so from a geometrical progression point of view, he was practically young.
Anyway, by the time I'd contacted this guy and chatted with him a bit, it was time to go pick up Nike, and older guy and I hadn't gotten around to sealing the deal, so I sent him one last chat message saying I have to leave now and here's my number and call me if you wanna come over. Then I went to pick up Nike, figuring that Mr. AARP probably would forget about the whole thing.
Nike and I had been playing (lots of making out, nipple play, and, of course, his going down on me) for over half an hour when the phone rang. I reached over to pick it up, and it was Mr. Almost-as-Old-as-John-McCain-but-Fitter-and-with-Fewer-Houses who said that he would like to come over. He asked a few other questions that he already knew the answer to -- just to get himself in the mood, I reckon. Nike was on his stomach at the time, and I was lying on top of him with my cock wedged between his thighs, so I leaned down to ask him whether he had time to wait for the guy to come over and play, and he said that he did, so I gave the guy my address and some directions.
Nike and I continued alternating between making out and oral, and he had my cock in his mouth when the older guy showed up. Frankly, older guy's chest was his best feature, but he still didn't look as old as he said he was, so -- as I lay there having my cock sucked -- I helped him get undressed and then I helped myself to his nipples. And I have to say, they were some of the best nipples I've ever bitten. He could really take it, too. Not a bad kisser, either.
So, you know how it goes. I kiss one of them while the other one sucks on my cock, then I kiss the other while the first sucks my cock, and I take turns on both of their nipples, mostly on the nipples of the older guy because they look like they go to the gym, by themselves perhaps, five times a week. Nike tries going down on the older guy for a bit, but he very quickly says that he's too close to shooting, and he clearly doesn't want to shoot, at least not then, so he goes down on Nike for a while, and I start to eat his ass, which is unobjectionable. A lot of guys never make it unobjectionable when it comes to ass eating, but it's not an ass that enthralls my tongue, so I pretty quickly move onto fingers, and older guy is getting louder and louder, so I suit up and start to fuck him, and he gets louder still, and I have him on his side, and I'm kissing Nike as well as I can manage while I'm pounding, and I'm pretty worked up from the kissing and everything, so I only have to fuck for about ten minutes before I fill the condom.
And, really, it's all pretty great up to that point, but I'm a little bit beat, so I collapse on the bed, and older guy starts talking about how cute Nike is and how much he loves my cock, and, well, I'm not in the mood for a lot of conversation, and his patter was probably stale back in the seventies, let alone now. But we all hang out for a bit, and Nike asks if I have any water, which gives me an excuse to get out of bed and go downstairs and get some, and when I come back, I tell older guy that I have to give Nike a ride home, and he asks if he should wait, and I tell him that I have to be up early in the morning, and, dude, have you never hooked up before and is that why you don't know that your job is to shut up, get dressed, and leave after the dom top is finished using your sub bottom bottom? I didn't say any of that last bit, of course. After all, the guy was pretty good in the sack, and he lives close to my office, so I could drop by for a late-night busy season quickie sometime. Nike heads downstairs to smoke his cigar, and I tell older guy that he lives pretty close to my office, and he tells me to call him. Then I see him out, and Nike tells me that "we need to talk for a minute." Apparently, he's a little freaked out by having hooked up with someone in his sixties, and he thinks that older guy was too enthusiastic (i.e., loud) when he was getting fucked, and I tell Nike some stories of some of my noisiest fucks, all of whom would make older guy sound like Sunday morning meditation. But Nike changes his mind quickly, and in the three minutes it takes to drive him home, he's decided that I need to call him if I'm going to hook up with older guy again. [Last night I got a text from him (Nike) suggesting that the three of us play. But YFU was over, so I didn't even have to come up with an excuse. I'd probably do a threeway with them again, but not two days later.]
When I got home, I had email from the size queen, and he was very amused that I'd gone to the trouble of taking and sending him a picture of my cock posing with a stick of butter. He said he'd see me Sunday morning and that he'd call when he was up. He did, and he said he'd try to be over by 11:30, but he was running late, and, after two more calls, he arrived just after noon. Cute, cute, cute, and entirely focused on sucking my cock. We went upstairs, and I took off my jeans and sat on the bed. He undressed but left his boxers on, climbed between my legs, and, whoa, serious wet vac action.
Truly awesome head. The first time I told him how great it felt, he stopped and said, "If you think you're getting too close too soon, tell me, and I'll back off." I chuckled and replied, "Oh, man, really not a problem. I'm a very slow shooter." He smiled and said, "Good. I will not tire."
Reader, he tired. But not until he'd given me thirty minutes of his very best. For a lot of that time, I was sitting on the bed with my back resting on the wall and my legs either stretched out or wrapped around his head. I kept sliding my feet down his torso and hooking my toes under the waistband of his boxers in an attempt to slide them down. And I got them down far enough to see half of his exceptionally well-shaped ass, but I never got them all the way off. In fact, when he finally headed to the bathroom, they were still halfway down his ass. Nice.
He didn't head to the bathroom until after he'd gotten me off, though. He'd stopped the vacuum action, but he was still licking my cockhead and jerking my cock hard with his hands. I moaned and writhed and jerked and, eventually, I started to shoot a load. He anticipated the climax and took the cockhead in his mouth and let the whole load flow. Then he hurried off to the bathroom (hello, ass!) to spit and rinse very loudly. It might have been a bit of a buzzkill, but I was feeling too good from the excellent blowjob.
Sunday evening, I had plans to meet up with my friend George for dinner and a showing of Milk, which neither of us had yet seen. I met him at the Barnes and Noble, and then we headed off to Austin Grill, where the service was almost painfully slow. I wasn't especially hungry, so I ordered a cup of chili and some iced tea. George was entirely taken with the waiter (cute, young, and with a thick accent), so he took his time ordering and then flirted with him at every opportunity. I mean, seriously, how many times can you drop a spoon on the floor and watch the waiter bend over to pick it up without it becoming obvious? Three, apparently. Anyway, the movie time was approaching, and since George once made me so late getting to a movie that b&c and I had to sit all the way on the end of the second row while George took a prime seat in the back, I was anxious to get going. We had the check, and I suggested that we just leave money on the table since it would likely take the waiter forever to actually process the payment, but George said he'd pick up the tab but wanted to use his credit card. I shrugged and told him that I'd head over to the theater and save him a seat. As I was leaving the restaurant, I saw the waiter bending over the table, his head right up next to George's, and then as I rounded the corner and looked through the window, I saw the two of them headed into the men's room, and I figured a) good for him, and b) they can't possibly spend more than five minutes in the men's room, and the movie doesn't start for twenty, so we're all good. But then George never showed up at the movie. Apparently, when they got into the stall and the waiter went down on him, everything was fine, and they were done in two minutes. But then George offered reciprocation, and the waiter turned out to be enormously hung with nuts to match. It took George almost ten minutes to finish the job (I'm told that something of a line developed), and then when the waiter was about to shoot, George mistimed, took his mouth off, and got semen all over his clothes (big shooter). He settled the bill and hurried off to the parking garage to fetch and change into his spare clothes, (it seems that getting covered in cum happens to him on a somewhat regular basis, but chacun a son gout, I reckon) but by the time he was again presentable, he was too late to purchase a ticket. Sadly, I had no idea what was going on, so when a few minutes before the show began, when I thought George was still coming (as opposed to still cumming), an attractive, unaccompanied man asked if the seat next to mine was taken, I had to tell him that it was unavailable. Oh, the humanity.1
Anyway, I had a good seat to see Milk, and it was as good as most people are saying it is. I'll probably go see it again with b&c when he gets back from Haiti, if only to see whether he cries during the parts where I think he'll cry.
I understand that yesterday was a holiday for many people, but I had to work, of course, and then in the evening, YFU was over, so I got to bed early, as I very much needed to do. Judd is coming over this evening. He texted me all weekend to see what and who I was doing, and I offered him appropriately salacious details. He's fun when he's all worked up, and getting him all worked up is never any work at all, so I'm sure I'm in for a fun night.
1Portions of this paragraph may have been embellished. But not the part about having to turn away the attractive young man who would otherwise have sat next to me.