I read a number of faux-reality porn blogs. By that phrase, I mean a blog which purports to be an accurate recounting of the writer's sex life but which is really largely or entirely made up. I don't think there's anything wrong with that (I love pornographic fiction), but I'll admit that I experience a brief wave of disappointment at the moment I realize that what I had thought might be real isn't. I don't want to call out any particular blogs, and I don't want to get into any arguments (not that anyone would necessarily notice my having called them out), but just by example, if you read these two blogs, you can probably guess which reflects the blogger's highly entertaining reality and which reflects the author's highly entertaining imagination. And if you can't, well, then just enjoy.
Anyway, I had a moment late last night where I briefly wondered whether I was imagining my own life because I was all "Damn. Really?" but it's going to take me a little while to get there, so maybe grab a snack. Or your cock if you're just here for the pictures, but I'm pretty sure that those of you who actually read the text don't jo while you're on the site, not that there would be anything wrong with that, and there are times when I'd like to write actual porn here because I'm pretty good at that, but I don't bother because it doesn't pay and OH FUCK CAN I JUST FINISH A SENTENCE ALREADY. I hate tax season. I apologize for my little outburst there, but I'm too fucking tired to edit and, yeah, sentence, finish, please.
So late yesterday afternoon I was sitting at my desk, having just finished researching some of the finer points of controlled foreign corporations and foreign personal holding company income when I surfed over to craigslist and saw that a cute, young, black guy in Bethesda wanted to give head in his office after 6, but his picture showed him from behind, and he had a beautiful ass, so I emailed him saying that I'd love to eat it while he went down on me and then fuck him, figuring that he wouldn't even bother to reply, but he did, saying that he was really just looking to suck a cock and swallow a load, and I was thinking that this was really not going to end well because a) offices are typically not well designed for sex, b) I was sure not to get a chance to kiss him, and c) quickie bjs just don't work for me, but I emailed him anyway, and he allowed that he had lube and condoms and that I could probably slide it in, and he wanted me to come over, and I sort of felt like I'd offered to come over and that backing out would be flaking, and he did agree to make the time 6:30, which would be just right for something fast before choir practice, so at 6:28, I was standing in the lobby of the ninth floor of an office building just two blocks from mine, texting the guy, "I'm here."
He came to let me in, and he was every bit as cute as advertised. He was not as young, but black guys can get away with a lot of years on that front, so if he was thirty-five as opposed to twenty-nine, who really cares, right? Not me, certainly. He was wearing a suit, minus the jacket, and he was about 5'7 and very fit. We went back to his office, and while he took care of a couple of things on his computer, I lowered the blinds the rest of the way and turned them closed. I dropped my overcoat over the back of a chair and started to unzip, and he began removing his tie and shirt. I guess he was nervous because he sent one of his buttons flying across the room, but he was pretty quickly down to his wife beater. I sat against the credenza, and he got on his knees and pulled my cock out of my briefs.
I was still pretty sure this wasn't going to end well, but I did allow myself to enjoy the oral. As soon as I was hard, I grabbed his head and rammed it on and off my cock a few times, then I just watched for a bit, at which point I thought, "You know, I really do have kind of a thick cock." I'd probably give up an inch of circumference for another inch of length, but whatever. He was doing a good job with the head, and I reached down inside his tank and twisted his nipples a bit. They didn't feel like they were used to much work.
Anyway, at about four or five minutes in -- probably when he's usually saying goodbye to his trick and savoring the load -- he seemed to get a little tired of sucking. Or at least, he went for a condom, put it on me, lubed me up (barely missing my pants, which were down around my thighs, and tried to back up onto my cock. He was on the short side, though, and he was very tight, so while I tried to push into him, the angle was wrong, and the ass was resistant. There was a long table in the other corner of the office, and it was lower, so I half-leaned, half sat against it, and we tried again. I got the head in, and he started to make some noise. I grabbed his hips and tried to pull him back. I figured I could reach around, stroke him a few times, and he'd shoot a load, then I could just leave: the office wasn't that big, and it was crowded, and there was just no way I was going to find a position that would allow me to plow that ass long and hard enough to shoot my own load. But then I apparently pulled him back too hard because it hurt him, and I heard a crack, and it was the table, which was old and only held a printer. I looked, and I could tell right away that it could be easily fixed with a little wood glue. He didn't seem worried about the office furniture, but he was clearly worried about the width of my cock, so I stood up, reached around for his cock with one hand, and inserted the thumb of my other hand into his ass, pushing directly on his prostate. Ooops: I forgot lube. I got some lube and went with a finger, but he clearly didn't get fucked much (really a shame because what an ass), and we were clearly done. We were both very civilized about it, and he apologized profusely. I gave him the condom and wiped myself up (not much required, really) with a paper towel that I'd gotten from the men's room at my office as I was leaving. He walked me out, and all I was thinking was that it had ended badly, as predicted, but I didn't really mind. Besides, it gave me time to get a McChicken sandwich (dollar menu!) before choir practice.
Choir practice didn't go well, and by the time I got home, I was so horny that I actually texted Nike. I hadn't heard from him in over a week, so I figured he might be mad at me, but at first there was no response, and then "Who is this?" And I was all, wow, he was so mad at me he deleted my phone number. Score! I mean, sure, he was a great kisser and a great cocksucker and a lot of fun, but until just over a week ago, he'd been bugging me constantly to come pick him up, bring him home, and let him suck me off, and I just didn't have the time. It seemed easiest, on the whole, not to reply. (I got the same text message from him again this morning. I again didn't reply.)
So I started doing some much-needed housework, but I was logged onto a couple of hook-up sites, and I saw this very local married submissive that I'd chatted with before but hadn't actually fucked because he couldn't sneak out. I figured that it'd be the same story last night, but I also figured I could find that out in a two-minute chat, so I said hello. After two minutes, I gave him my general, but not specific, location and my cell number and told him to either call then come over or call on the way over, figuring that he wouldn't follow through. A minute later, he called, saying that he was in his back yard but that the light was still on in his bedroom window, so he wasn't sure whether his wife was asleep. I would have expected that to make me angry, but I had just moved into efficiency mode, "Call me back if you can come over," and I hung up.
Maybe two minutes later, I was at my computer reading an email, and I see someone walking up the front sidewalk, and I'm thinking WTF because that guy doesn't know where I live, and damn that was fast and that guy doesn't know where I live, and there's a knock on the door, and I look outside, and it's not that guy at all, it's a guy from a recent fourway that I had with Judd and two married submissives and why is he knocking on my door at almost midnight?
And I have to tell you, I thought for a moment of all the recent death wish yammering, but, well, I should explain that when I was much younger, up to my mid-twenties, I was not a particularly good judge of character. Then I spent four years working in a large, international accounting firm, and the only really useful thing (aside from a fairly thorough knowledge of corporate taxation) that I learned was how to judge character very quickly. And since that time, there have been any number of charming men who have become professional associates and who have taken in all or almost all of my colleagues. And invariably, after one meeting with these guys, I've smiled and thought to myself, "No." In a professional context, it's not danger I'm sensing, it's charm covering a level of incompetence and/or deceit, but I always know when someone isn't what they seem to be. And the guy at my door (who later reminded me that I'd told him that b&c was out of town and that I never had the kids on Thursday night: I was mostly weirded out by the thought that he might have shown up when a family member was around) was clearly exactly what he seemed to be: a married guy in the first stages of exploring his attraction to men. He'd been the guy who'd told me, in a surprised tone, how much more fun he'd had than he'd expected to have. [In fact, the only time that I have ever had a twinge of fear during a hook-up was one time when I went to another guy's apartment and he started smoking meth. I wrote about that hook-up in my very first post on this blog. It was the only time I'd ever seen anyone smoke meth, and that was what frightened me, even though he'd asked me before he came over if I minded if he used drugs. But all it did was make that guy a lot hornier. That guy was a total sweetheart, and I think (I don't remember, but I probably wrote about it at the time) it was not long after he'd smoked the meth that he took me to the kitchen and
So when I opened the door, and he said, "I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by" (no, really), I motioned him in before laughing and saying, "Dude. It's almost midnight, and you live in Kensington," but then we were making out and I was pulling off his jacket and twisting his nipples hard and pushing him up the stairs as he was saying, "I was here before, there were four of us," and I laughed again and said, "Yeah, I remember," because, really, if a guy whom I don't recognize shows up at my door at midnight, I don't pull him inside and make out with him: I just don't answer the door. Of course, at midnight, I'm not usually sitting by my computer in the front room, and I don't usually have the front porch light on, either, but I'd turned it on for the local guy who was probably still pacing in his back yard.
It was clear to me that, in addition to being harmless, this guy had wrestled with his desire and lost, and -- having been married myself -- I have a lot of sympathy for guys like him, especially when they have really nice nipples. It was also clear that he'd set out (or maybe he really had been in the area, he does work late) and driven by my house not expecting to actually stop, but then he'd seen the light, and he'd seen my profile in the window, and now he was feeling some combination of very lucky and guilty and scared, and none of this could have been helped very much by the fact that as soon as I had him upstairs and almost fully undressed, my cell phone rang, it was the very local married submissive saying that he was on his way over to be my bitch. "Um, cool. I have an unexpected guest. I hope you don't mind." He didn't mind. So I gave him the full address and decided to leave the door unlocked for him because, well, strength in numbers, good judge of character, appropriate screening, or death wish. You be the judge.
Anyway, first married guy came back out of the bathroom -- to which he'd fled when the phone rang, and we got horizontal, and I started kissing him, and then I began working his nipples really hard while he sniffed poppers, and he was having a fine time, and I was having a fine time, and I'd just guided his hand to my extremely hard cock when I heard the door open downstairs. A minute later, second married guy showed up in the bedroom, naked, and I pointed him toward my cock. He'd said that he wanted to be forced to take it all, but he was just licking the head, so -- without breaking my chomp on first married guy's nipple -- I grabbed his head and shoved it down on my cock until I got gagging noises. Then I let him work.
After a few minutes like that, I pulled away from mg1 and pulled mg2 off my cock so I could kiss him. I pushed mg1 down to my cock, and he sucked it for a bit, but after a couple of minutes, he got up and started to get dressed. "You're leaving?" "I have to go." I was a little torn. I mean, I was having a great time with mg2, but I felt like my ministry to the local married submissives (no, I'm not taking myself seriously with that description, duh) demanded that I attend to both of my lambs. I let mg1 get partly dressed, and then when he was sitting on the corner of the bed putting his socks on, I went over to him and pinched his nipples hard and kissed him, but he said, "I really do have to go. I'll talk to you later," and, hey, maybe he really was in the neighborhood after working late and expected at home, and even a missionary such as myself can only worry about so many things at once, so I went back to mg2 who was very eager.
After I pushed his head down on my cock again for a bit, I put him on his back, got on top of him and began kissing him again. His nipples looked like they'd never had any work done on them, so I only sucked on them at first, but then he whispered, "Bite them," and, oh, dude, be careful what you wish for. I bit. Hard. And then harder. And he never complained.
He was cute and fit and short and hairy, and I let him suck on my cock some more, then I pulled him around, told him not to stop sucking my cock, and commenced to eating his very fine ass. I'd told him to make sure it was clean, and he had. We were both doing what we love to do, so I ate him while he sucked me for a good long while, even though it was already pretty late on a school night. Then we kissed a little more, and I shoved him on his stomach. I rubbed my cock against his hole, and he freaked out just a bit because he thought I was going to bareback him, but I just laughed and said, "As if" as I grabbed the condom. Normally I make the other guy put it on me, but he was actually begging me to fuck him, so I figured speed was important. I'd eaten him very thoroughly, but he also begged for lube, so I gave him some of that, too. And then I started to ease into him. He'd warned me, as I was rubbering up, that he was likely to be a noisy fuck, and he was. I pushed one of his legs up and entered him that way, but he said I was too big, even though I was already somewhat inside, and asked whether he could ride me. So I lay down, and he straddled me and eased down onto my cock as I tweaked his nipples hard. It took a couple of minutes, but he finally relaxed (and then squeezed: nice), and I was able to get his legs out from under him and lower him back into X position, which, not surprisingly, he loved.
After a few minutes of that, he sat up again and yelled as I thrust into him, then I put him on his back, bent him double, and started to jackhammer the prostate, as I so love to do these days. He started making a noise that was somewhere between a yelp and a squeak. I imagine that to a disinterested observer it would not have seemed terribly erotic, but it really turned me on, and I pounded and pounded and pounded until he begged me to cum, which usually works, but not so much in that position.
So I put him on his hands and knees (he'd asked to be fucked like a dog) and shoved into him from behind. He was making deeper but similarly urgent noises, and I fucked him harder until he was lying flat, and then I plowed and plowed and plowed until he asked me again to cum, and soon after that I gratified him and filled the condom.
I was pretty beat, so I only stayed inside him for a minute after I came, then I pulled out. He asked for permission to jerk off, which I gave him. He was stroking pretty hard, and when I pushed a couple of fingers in and pressed his knob, he began to shake and then shoot. Nice sized load, too.
I expected him to jump right up, but he was content to lie there. I was content to lie there, too, so we lay there and didn't say anything until he said, "That was great!" I agreed. I tossed him a towel and fetched one for myself, then I lay back down. He was sort of bent on one corner of the bed, and I was lying diagonally across it, with my arm near his leg, and I began to idly stroke his calf while we chatted for a bit. It was all very friendly, which is usually a bad sign for repeat opportunities, but I don't know, and it's no big deal either way. We exchanged names, but I quickly forgot his, which is kind of inconvenient because now I can't give him a name and be sure that it wasn't his real name. I think it was something pretty common like Jim or Steve or Craig, but it might have been something more obscure like Aloysius, except that I'm pretty sure it wasn't Aloysius. In fact, I'm almost certain that it had fewer than four syllables. I guess I should have saved it in my cell phone, but I didn't. I have his email address, anyway.
He finally got out of bed, kissed me goodbye, and headed downstairs. I'd forgotten that he'd undressed before he came up. I gathered a load of laundry, took it down, and put it in the washer. On the way back to my computer, I noticed an unfamiliar jacket on the chair in the hallway, but I thought maybe it was EFU's, so I didn't worry about it. Then I sat down and looked out, and he was still in the driveway in his SUV, but it had only been a couple of minutes. And then I saw him heading back up the driveway, so I grabbed the jacket off the chair, and when he knocked on the door and said, "I can't find my car key," I handed him the jacket. He went through the pockets, found the key, and said good night after some brief necking.
I went back to the computer, and there was an email from mg1 apologizing for showing up uninvited. I told him it was okay, but I repeated my cell number and asked him to use it the next time. If there is one, I mean. With married guys, you really never know. I think, though, that in the extremely unlikely event someone ever knocks on my door near midnight again (it's never happened before), I'll hide rather than answer the door. It seems more likely, even in a crowded suburb, to be an unknown burglar than a horny married guy who's lost my number, and at the very least, answering the door at that hour encourages rudeness. If it's a neighbor kid whose house is on fire, presumably he or she will have the sense to yell.