Monday, June 29, 2009


Oh, readers, I am so very far behind right now, and I'm afraid that I won't get any more caught up today. But even though I think my last post was about last Monday, I'm already having trouble remembering the hook-ups since then, so I need to put down an outline, from which to generate further posts.

So, last Tuesday was the marathon (3.5 hr) session with Judd and Pedro. Pedro is a very sexy black man with an amazing ass, but what really gets him off (or got him off twice on Tuesday, anyway) is frot.

And then Wednesday, my very local but oh-so-hard-to-tie(figuratively)-down married buddy Kevin finally made it back for a return engagement, and I finally managed to get my cock (most of the way) in his ass.

And then Thursday, it would appear that I took the night off, but I have to check all of my email inboxes to make sure. It seems an odd choice for me. I need to keep more diligent records; otherwise, entire hook-ups -- especially those arranged entirely by text message -- may go undescribed. And we can't have that, can we?

Pedro was supposed to come back Friday night for a return engagement, but both he and Desi favorite Stanley flaked on me, with lame -- but likely true -- excuses. So I ended up accepting the proposal of a very pretty thirty-something mixed-race (Black, white, Latin, native American) submissive who wanted to take his first fist. Almost, but not quite. He spent the night, and it turns out that guys who have nearly been fisted the night before are very tight the next morning.

Pedro emailed me a couple of times to apologize for Friday night, so I invited him over again Saturday afternoon. Then on Saturday evening, b&c had left me tickets to see the National Symphony Orchestra, so I went with my buddy George, who, it turns out, once shot a man in El Paso, just to watch him die. (I may have embellished that ever so slightly.)

On Sunday, Stanley, who had emailed to apologize earlier, emailed to ask whether I was free, and even though I was expecting Patrick (the guy who I reconnected with after a six-year hiatus) at 4, I drove down to Stanley's place around 2:30 and played with him for about forty-five minutes without ever removing my underwear. I figured, rightly, that it would leave me fairly worked up for Patrick. I am pretty sure now that Stanley's anatomy is never going to let my cock into his ass, but it's amazing how much you can do in a very tight ass with just your little finger. Patrick has no trouble accommodating my cock, but I did fuck him so hard that he actually cried, "Uncle."

Wednesday, June 24, 2009


Last night, Judd came over, and I took the opportunity to invite someone else, and we were at it from 8:15 until 11:30, and it was intense for the whole time, and I'm really sore but definitely smiling, and I'll just have to write about that another time.

Because I still haven't recorded the most recent encounters with Logan and Sander. The encounters were similar in activities, awesomeness (high), and duration (just under an hour), even though Logan (tall, lean, smooth, mid-fifties) and Sander (short, compact, furry, thirty) are visual opposites. They're both submissive bottoms who love to get fucked, though, and they both had limited time when we got together. Logan had arranged to come over during a couple of free hours between family obligations, but then he got a call from Istanbul (not Constantinople) asking him to return to work on a project, but then the flight back got delayed a bit, so he said he could make it after all, but then his time window narrowed, and then he was running late, and then he was in the house, and I said, "I know you normally like to be romanced a bit first, but you don't have time," and I pushed him up the stairs and down on the bed and we began to kiss, and I slowly undressed him while we made out.

Forty-five minutes turns out to be plenty of time, especially when you're working with a known quantity. I still recall with especial fondness an encounter that I had when I was working in Catonsville, and a young, cute, inked cub said that I could come over and play, and I accepted the invitation even though I only had half an hour, and it turned out to be enough time to make out, eat his nipples, eat his fine young ass while he went down on me, fuck him face-to-face, get both of us off, and wash up. God knows that I can get lost for half an hour in making out, but I can also work under time pressure.

Logan was all kinds of horny, given that he hadn't had sex since he and I had last hooked up in January, and it was heaven to once again be kissing him while I removed his pants and briefs and played with his cock while my tongue worked its way down to his nipples. He's always simultaneously calm and intense, so the way five months of unrelieved horny shows up on him is in slightly louder moans and sighs, but he did go to the extreme, for him, measure of saying my name when I was slowly and then not so slowly sucking on his nipples. And then when I pulled away for a moment, he sat up and positively dove for my cock, something else he doesn't normally do. I lay back and let him have it for a couple of minutes before I pulled his body around so that I could give his ass the attention it deserves.

When you like eating ass as much as I like eating ass, it's important to savor the moment just before you start. It's kind of like saying grace, only without involving any words or deities. There is, however, still a great deal of thanks. Once I had his knees on either side of my body, I ran my hands up the backs of his long, smooth thighs, spread his cheeks, sighed, and ran my tongue from the bottom of his nutsack up across his hole. He shivered, but he didn't stop going down on me, even when I pushed my tongue inside him.

After a while -- not long enough, but when is it ever? -- I pulled him back around to lie beside me so that I could kiss him some more, then I rolled him on his back, lay on top of him, and rubbed my cock up and down against his. Then I slid it down an began to hump between his thighs, while still kissing him. I grabbed his wrists and held them down over his head, and he kissed me harder.

But at my back I always hear and all that, so I slid off him and rolled him over. I lay on top of him, my cock wedged into his asscrack, and I bit his shoulder for a bit, then I slid down, my tongue tracing his spine, until I could eat his ass for a bit again. Then I licked my way back up until my cockhead was at the entrance to his ass, and I bit down on his shoulder as I slowly (it had been a while, after all) began to enter him. He was very tight (I always have to be careful when fucking Logan that I don't leave the condom behind when I pull out), but I waited, and he relaxed and opened up, and bit by bit I sank into him until we were fully engaged.

He breathed my name again as I started to pump in and out. And it was great: the ass was hanging on to my cock for dear life, and I was kissing the back of his neck and then lightly biting his shoulder, and he was moaning, and loving it. But I really wanted him on his back, so it wasn't long before I pulled out, rolled him over, grabbed his ankles, pushed them up to expose his hole, and pushed back into him. Then I started to piston him, a real, hard, prostate-probing fuck. It's the sort that usually makes him ooze cum, but this time he just lay there and took it, with a blissed-out smile and eyes rolled up and the occasional "TED."

We were running up on our time limit, and after not much fucking, he seemed to get to a sort of ejaculate-free release: he shuddered briefly, and his muscles went lax. I pulled out and began to kiss him, wrapping my arms round him and holding him close. I figured we were done, but he started playing with my cock some, and I was soon so worked up that I couldn't help rolling him back on his stomach and shoving back into him. He had his head turned, and I could see the smile. I grabbed his hear and pulled his head back to kiss him, and I started pumping harder and faster. I had really intended not to cum, since I had a couple of guys coming by later, so I would plow him hard until I got very close and then I'd stop, but after about the fourth cycle of that, I felt myself about to lose control, and I thought, "What the fuck," and then I just let it go. His smiled broadened when he realized I was shooting.

There was, sadly, not much time for goodbye, but then Logan isn't much of a talker, even when there's time to sit next to him on the couch and chat a bit before bending him in half and fucking him like a jackhammer, so I kissed him goodbye, and he told me that he'd be in touch when he gets back from Istanbul (not Constantinople).

Sander was over late Sunday morning. He'd emailed me to say that he'd be available earlier in the morning, but I was singing with the choir that morning, so I told him I'd do my utmost to be home by 11:30, and he said he thought he'd have a little less than an hour to play. I was running a couple of minutes late, so I texted him, and he said he was a similar distance away. I had time to park the car, close the garage door, and freshen up for a minute in the bathroom before the doorbell rang.

Kisses before pleasantries, I always say, so as soon as he walked in, I grabbed him, and we began making out. He loves that. My mouth was occasionally otherwise occupied, but I probably spent 70% of the next hour kissing him, including a lengthy kiss goodbye when we were next standing by the door together. I did break it long enough to get him upstairs, but then I threw him down on the bed, got on top of him, and started again. I had to stop again to get him undressed, and it was one of those, stand up for fifteen seconds and throw everything off as fast as you can, and then I threw him back on the bed, pinned his arms over his head, and sucked on his lower lip once again. I eventually had to stop to work my way down his furry body to his nipples, but I was pretty soon back lip-to-lip with him. Damn but that boy can kiss.

But, of course, I knew that he wanted to get fucked, so we headed in that direction. I pushed his head down towards my crotch, and he eagerly worked on my cock until he had it all in. I lost no time in getting his ass right in my face. I put a pillow under my head, spread his cheeks, and shoved my tongue right up his hot hole.

Because he's short, it's easier than with other guys to kiss him while I'm fucking him from behind and he's lying on his stomach, so after a few breaks for more making out and getting three fingers up his ass, I put him on his stomach and began to shove in. His head turned to the side and his mouth opened wide, and I pushed my tongue against his.

I didn't take as long as I'd have liked to get to the fucking stage, but that meant I could fuck him longer. I plowed him hard from behind while kissing him for a while, but then I really wanted him on his back, so I flipped him over, bent his knees, grabbed the bottoms of his feet, shoved his legs forward, and rammed my cock into him. He'd been pretty loud, but that got him almost shouting, and I rammed him over and over until the cum began to flow out of his cock. There was only a little of it, but when I'd pulled out and resumed kissing him while lying next to him, I stroked him off, occasionally breaking the kiss to bite a nipple, and he came hard.

He was still breathing a little hard when I rolled him onto his stomach. I always expect guys to complain when I want to pound their holes right after they've come, but a true submissive relishes that sort of treatment, and Sander certainly encouraged me, loudly, to plow him harder. And I did, but I didn't shoot, just because I usually don't. And there were time restrictions. We kissed all the way to the shower, and then he left the door halfway open and I stood outside the shower and we kissed occasionally, and then I got into the shower and we kissed some more, but it was really time to go, so we dried off, kissed, got dressed, kissed, walked downstairs, kissed for a while, and then he left, and I went back upstairs for a well earned nap.

It might be a while before I see either of them again (especially Logan), but I'm pretty sure that I will, and then hopefully we'll have more time. Both encounters were awesome, and I have nothing bad to say about either, but more is better. Besides, Sander still needs to be spit roasted for the first time, and Logan deserves his glass of wine and a long, slow session.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Plus Ca Change

I should probably take last weekend in chronological order, but that last post was kind of a bummer (lots of pictures, though, right?), so maybe I should discuss the best hook-up next. The problem there is that it's kind of tough to choose. I had a somewhat lackluster threeway Saturday evening, but the three one-on-one hook-ups that I had Saturday and Sunday afternoons were each solid three-star encounters. They were the sort of sex that, if any one of them had been the best sex that you'd had in three months, you'd have to say you'd had a damned good quarter.

And they were all with guys I'd fucked before but hadn't seen in a while. There was Logan, the fifty-something beanpole from Istanbul (not Constantinople), whom I hadn't seen since January or so, when he went back to Istanbul (not Constantinople). There was little Sander, the cute, short, thirty-year-old married furball who lives nearby but who is only ever free when I'm not, whom I hadn't seen since March. And then there was Patrick.

I think I've written about Patrick here before, but probably only in a round about way (I don't think I knew his name before Saturday). And I can't locate the post that talked about him. It gets hard, after a while, to locate specific posts of mine via Google. Unless there's some telling and unusual detail, well, let's just say that a good many of my posts about really good sex include the words "nipples," "submissive," and "cheeseburger."

As near as he and I could figure, I met Patrick back in 2001 or 2002. It was probably on We chatted briefly, and then he invited me to come out to the hinterlands to fuck him in the very large house that he was housesitting for his boss. I showed up at the appointed rendez-vous coordinates, a local country store, and he wasn't there. I waited for a while, then I left, but then I came back to get a soda, and he had arrived, full of apologies and lust. I followed him back to his boss' house, stood him against the door of the laundry room, kissed him, twisted a nipple, and three hours later, I was calling my friends to brag about it. That, in case you're a new reader, is the definition of a three-star hook-up. It's so good that you have to excuse yourself so you can call your friends and gloat.

At that time, Patrick was thirty-two or thirty-three, and he was married (of course) and very attractive: tall, lean, blond, smooth, goateed, pierced (nipple), submissive, and ravenous for cock. I was fairly new to mansex in those days, and I'd had my share of good and great sex before, but the session with him was better than any I'd had before. I walk away from sex like that thinking that it just doesn't get any better. And I still think that. I've had plenty of sex to rival that fuck, but we clicked so well for those 2.5 hours that it felt like the Platonic ideal of sex. Even if something since then was better, it could only be as good.

But, as is the way with things, not long after I met Patrick, he started down the road I'd recently traveled. His wife found out about his passion for men, she outed him at work, he got laid off, he had issues with his kids, he took a less lucrative job and a cheap apartment, both far away, and while we kept in touch intermittently via email, there was never a chance to get back together. His last email had said something about a boyfriend in Aspen Hill whom he didn't get to see often enough. And that was probably two or three years after we'd hooked up and a year since our most recent prior email exchange. I thought of him occasionally and another year or two later, I tried emailing him, and the address was dead.

But he was always the guy I thought of first when I told people, "It's really better to be grateful for all the great sex you did have with that guy rather than to regret all the sex you never got to have with him," so I only ever looked back on that encounter with a great deal of fondness and lust.

Anyway, I had just finished fucking and saying goodbye to Logan -- who was unexpectedly called back to Istanbul (not Constantinople) and only barely managed to find an hour to spend getting pounded -- when I went downstairs to the computer to check the responses to my craigslist ad, and there was one saying:
Hey Bud,

Saw your ad and think we played a couple of times a few years back in a big house in Laytonsville. If your the same guy. I'd definately love to hook up again...


And I thought, "Laytonsville. Heh." But I really didn't know who it was. Laytonsville is in the hinterlands, to be sure, but its exact location is, I aver, subject to interpretation. I thought of big houses in that area, and I thought very briefly of Patrick (whose name I had not known, or at least not remembered), but that was more than a few years back, and we only played once, and, well, "Surely not," I thought.

So I sent back a noncommittal response saying that I wasn't sure who he was, and he replied:
Think you drove a taurus at the time and maybe lived in ss

Ok, that's me! But I still had no clue about him, so I asked for more details. And he said:It looks, don't you think it looks a lot like rain?
42, 6'1 190-195# smooth, 8.5 cut, very oral, eager pleasing type submissive. consider myself masculine not fem but love alot of body contact, taking instructions/verbal, cbt, tt, spankings etc. You fucked me a few times at a place in Laytonsville during the week days...

and then:
did I say clean cut, clean shaven, dark blonde/blue sorta buzzcut hair use to be married have kids etc....

And I thought, a) OMG, it's him! b) I just totally exhausted myself covering Logan with cum, and yet I'm hard again just reading this email, and c) if I believed in Karma, right now I'd convinced that I gave some deity really amazing head in a previous life.

As you might guess, I emailed him again asking him to come over. It was 4:30 or so, and he said he only had until 6:30, but I was expecting a couple of guys at 7, so that was good for me. He called me, I talked a little rough to him, I gave him directions, I ran upstairs, I jumped in the shower, he called again when he got lost, I gave him more directions, I got out the restraints, I went back downstairs, he rang the doorbell, I opened the door, he walked in, and I started to kiss him, with one hand immediately going for a nipple and the other hand cupping and then squeezing his fine ass.

So I'm going to get this out of the way right here, and I'm going to try to make sure I'm not misunderstood. The years have not been especially kind to Patrick. And by that I don't mean that he's unattractive: he's still hot. What I mean is that an early-thirties metro-soon-to-be-homo-sexual guy with an easy life and a heavy bicycling habit is really, in my eyes, not much more than a youth. He had, back in the day, an unwrinkled brow, a light bronze glow, and an untroubled optimism about him that bespoke an utter unfamiliarity with major life trauma. I think that divorce, more than time, is responsible for the wrinkles on my own brow, and I know that he'd had problems with acceptance from his son and a great deal of other shit to put up with. I'm also guessing, from the available evidence, that he has spent his share of weekends in Rehoboth with his partner and without adequate sun protection or moisturizer. In any case, he now looks older than me, and, well, he really isn't.

But I didn't notice that until later, and when I noticed it, it didn't make any difference. The sex was awesome. What I noticed when I first grabbed him was that he no longer had the nipple piercing. I mentioned it, and he said, "You do remember me!" Oh, yes.

We only had ninety minutes (with most guys ninety minutes is way more than enough, but doing Patrick in ninety minutes is kind of like doing the Louvre in the same amount of time: get the man's clothes off so we don't miss La Joconde!) so I pushed him right upstairs and began to undress him. He began to sweat. In fact, he didn't stop sweating the whole time he was there, but it was that sort of clean sweat that lubricates, literally and figuratively, rather than inhibits the action.

As hot as everything he does is, none of it's hotter than his kissing. Fifteen minutes in, he told me, "I'd forgotten what a great kisser you are," and I replied, "Really? That was the main thing I remembered about you. Well, that and the nipples." I was squeezing his nipple pretty hard when I said that, and then I bit it for good measure before kissing him again. He kvelled. And sweat some more. And there was some moaning.

And damn if the time didn't just fly by. We were rolling around, soaking the sheets, and I was working his nipples very hard, then biting his neck and shoving my tongue in his ears, and he stopped moaning long enough to say, "You're finding all my weak spots." I bit down on his ear lobe, pushed my tongue into his ear again, and then pushed him down towards my cock.

Patrick loves to be dominated, so I did something I very rarely do and slapped his face in between kisses and again when he was going down on me. I didn't slap it very hard, of course, just because one doesn't, but I did slap his ass about as hard as I could with my bare palms, and he loved that. Perhaps not as much as he loved it when I pulled him around to eat his ass, or when I barked, "Did I say you could stop sucking my cock, boy?" when my tongue in his ass made him lose concentration, but it's hard to tell. He loved everything.

And he loved getting fucked most loudly of all. I had worked a few fingers into his ass, and then I laid him on his stomach and took him from behind. I started slowly, but even though his ass was tight, it opened pretty easily (apparently, what he and his partner do is mostly just anal, so he gets fucked a reasonable amount), and I was ramming him hard pretty soon.

I flipped him over and had him ride me for a bit and then lowered him into the X position, as per my usual practice, but it was all really foreplay for getting him on his back, grabbing his ankles, and bending him in half to plow him hard face to face. I let his calves rest against my shoulders and leaned down so that I could twist both nipples while I plowed him. He screamed and begged me to keep it up. I complied.

One thing I remembered from fucking him years ago was that he didn't get hard. But he got hard this past weekend. Really hard. And, really, even though big cocks aren't my thing, I can tell that he's impressively hung. After we'd been playing for nearly ninety minutes, and I'd been fucking him for maybe half an hour, I was ready for a breather, and I was aware of his time constraints, so lay next to him and kissed him some more and chewed on his nipple and stuck two fingers up his ass and worked on his prostate while he stroked himself off. He came pretty quickly and pretty hard. Then we made out some more and talked for a while, and got caught up, which, since we don't really know each other, didn't take long.

He was running a little late, so I helped him into the shower and asked him whether he had an open or a don't-ask-don't-tell relationship, and he said it was the latter. He said that he'd offered his partner an open relationship, but that his partner had refused and that he'd then walked in on his partner fucking someone he found repulsive and had felt very disrespected. I told him that I'm sure it wasn't a reflection on the amount of affection between them so much as it was male horniness, but I was thinking that I already knew more than I really wanted to know. It was pretty clear that in the time since I'd first met him, he'd done a much better job than I have of assimilating to what are perceived as standard American gay attitudes and mannerisms. That isn't a bad thing. But it's not necessarily a good thing, either. Years ago, I figured that if circumstances had been different, we might have been friends, but now I figure that he's just another nice and sexy guy with whom I have not much in common.

He also told me that his relationship with his partner wasn't particularly passionate but that they had little drama and "travel well together." To be honest, it sounded slightly depressingly familiar, but only depressing on that remote intellectual level of my mind that continues to operate no matter how happy my body is. I was, though, still very much humming from the ninety minutes of nirvana (during which that part of my mind was refreshingly silent). And so was he. He told me that everything I do to him makes him want to just throw his ass up into the air. Well. How can you not smile when you hear that?

Still and all, despite his relative proximity, I'd be surprised if I heard from him again anytime soon. After showering and getting dressed, he seemed a little bit distracted, as if anticipating the sort of guilt that so many men apparently feel. I had pretty much fucked his brains out, but he seemed not to be holding on to the pleasure. But who knows? Maybe he was just worried about getting home before his partner got home from the pool.

And, you know, it doesn't really matter. Because, analysis aside, the sex was perfect. And while I would really enjoy seeing him twice a year instead of twice a decade, as grateful as I was for the first time I met him, I'm doubly grateful that I got to hit that twice because I certainly never expected it.

And I'm even more grateful that the sessions with Logan and Sander, both of whom I likely will fuck again, were the same. Not exactly the same in all the details, of course (more on those in another post), but equal in that they were all unreservedly great. I am an extremely fortunate man, and I strive never to forget it.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Not So Petty Annoyances

Wow. After I wrote that last post about Sunday, I realized that all of the fun I had the rest of the weekend had totally driven from my mind the agony that was Friday evening. That's a good thing, of course, and it's a good thing that, in general, there is nothing like good sex to make bad sex fade from memory, but I try to catalog the bad as well as the good, and I'd just as soon not forget how upset I was Friday night so that I don't put myself in the same position again.

About a week ago, I answered a craigslist ad from a guy seeking a massage. After a couple of emails, it was pretty clear to me that, although he'd moved, I was dealing with this guy. The description was the same (He claims to be twenty years younger than he is. And, to be fair, he is remarkably well preserved for his age, but he should probably only claim to be ten years younger because nobody who meets him will believe that he's thirty-two.), and his grammar was unmistakable. I reminded him who I was and said that I'd be happy to give him a massage again on Friday, provided that he drank not quite so much wine this time. He agreed and gave me directions to his new apartment building.

When I got there, he was exactly the way he'd been a year ago (before he started pounding the wine): very fit, very friendly, very very talkative. I just wanted to get him naked and rub some oil on him, but he would not shut up. I let him prattle on for twenty minutes or so, long enough for him to be saying the same things for the third time, and then I asked him whether he was ready to be massaged. He said he needed a quick shower. He took one, and while I used the bathroom and stripped down to my boxers and t-shirt, he got the baby oil. When I got out of the bathroom, he'd put his briefs back on, so when he went to lie on the bed, I pulled them off him. Then I got to work.

He liked the massage a lot, but he would not relax, and he would not shut up. He kept telling me how glad he was that I'd been able to come over and do this. I straddled his thighs and worked with great force on his shoulders while my hard-on rubbed through my boxers against his thighs. He seemed to like both those things equally, and he got more into it when I finished with his upper back and began to work his lower back and glutes.

That shut him up some, or at least it changed his utterances from words to moans, which is almost always an improvement and nowhere more so than with this guy. I worked down his legs and massaged his feet before zeroing back in on the ass. I rubbed his shoulder with my left hand while my right index finger slid into him and found his prostate.

And then his bed collapsed. Well, not exactly. He had a queen-sized bed where the mattress and box spring was resting only on the frame, with no cross supports. So the box spring slid over and a corner of it fell through. Talk about up in the air. But nothing was broken, so I helped him move the mattress to the floor and told him to lie down again. I started rubbing his ass again, and he liked that, but when I rolled him onto his back and started to kiss him, he freaked out a little. So I put him on his stomach again and worked his ass some more and then tried again, and he kissed some, but then freaked out again.

I told him to relax, but he said that he didn't kiss. I reminded him how much he'd kissed the last time we'd played, and he said he'd been drunk, but that he doesn't kiss. The thing is, he's a pretty good kisser, and I told him that, but then he started to argue with me, so I started to rub his nipples, and that shut him up, but only briefly.

He started to tell me that he couldn't handle kissing that he couldn't handle anything in his ass, that he'd never been fucked, that his sexual activity is always all about getting blowjobs. I listened, but I kept telling him that I could open his ass, and that he did like kissing. And he vacillated between defiance and submission, with the occasional I-really-need-to-eat-and-go-to-sleep (it was before 8) thrown in.

It was starting to get a little tedious, but I maintained a quiet firmness and he kept saying, "Anything you want" followed by "I can't do this," and then once he just shouted, "You're too close!" Which simultaneously made perfect sense and none at all. I kept working on him, and his flesh was so sensitive that any new place I lightly touched made him gasp and lose himself a little, but without the alcohol, his reticence was too firmly entrenched, and I was getting a little bit angry. Eventually he jumped up and said he needed to use the bathroom, and when he came back out, he told me that I needed to go so that he could eat and then go to sleep.

I told him no and told him to lie back down. He did, and I started to work on him, and he told me "Anything you want" again, but I realized that what I wanted was to be as far away from him as possible. There are too many guys who want what I'm offering to mess with guys who won't accept it readily. And give me something I want, too. So I just stopped what I was doing, said, "I'm going to go," got dressed and left, without saying anything else. He seemed very relieved. I felt awful, but I felt better after sending him a text message: "You are a dick." That was childish of me, but nobody's perfect.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Petty Annoyances

I'd placed an ad on craigslist on Saturday, when it looked like Logan might not be able to make it. As it happened, he did, but I figured it couldn't hurt to make one or two or five new friends, so I left the ad up. I got the latest response to it on Sunday morning. The first email was sent at 8:40 am, but I didn't get it until after I returned from church.
Hello good lookin

I am a white male 51 5' 10" 185 that would love to suck you off I would also let you have intercourse with me I love the picture I am in [other town]
try me


I implore you to forgive the incomplete sentences in my reply. I had just returned home, and I had barely had time to use the bathroom when I saw the email, and the guest I was expecting was on his way up the driveway even as I typed this missive, at 11:38 am.

Free this afternoon? After 1? I'm going to be offline until after 12:30, but I can reply then.

I saw my guest to the door just before his 12:30 deadline, at which point I found the following response, which covered much of the same ground. It had been sent at 11:59 am.

Hello Good Lookin,

I am Free for you and more than willing to service you after 1:00 today I love to suck dick I also hope you want to have intercourse with me as I am willing but again I love a dick in my mouth let me know


His picture made my motor run, so I replied, at 12:29.
That would be great. I just need to be finished by around 3. I live on [street name, without house number] in [my town]. My number is [cell number].

At this point, I really needed to start chopping the ingredients for the chicken salad that I was making for the choir picnic, so when I didn't get an immediate response, I figured he was the sort of flake who goes away when you make him call you. So I started chopping. But then, at 12:55:
I do not know where [street name] is But I will come
I will call for directions if I get lost or I am late I am on my way after I shower You be showered too

I had, in order to be a good host, showered with my friend from 11:30 before sending him on his way, so I was good on that front. So my response, sent at 1:04 was brief:
Excellent. You kiss, right?

I returned to my chopping. Word came back at 1:07.
YES I Kiss You are gonna fuck me Right?

At 1:12, I was briefer still:

Much additional chopping, and the making of a seasoned mayonnaise, ensued. I did not hear back again until 1:41.

I am showered I am on my way I prefer not to have to call what is your street address I am on my way

At this point, I was beginning to lose both time and patience. Granted that I don't practice the extensive anal hygiene of most bottoms, I just didn't see why a shower and a quick internal cleansing needed to take such a long time. And I had a deadline. And there was no way I was giving him my street address. So at 1:43, I shot back:

I don't like to play with anyone I haven't spoken to on the phone first. Call for the street number. Also, remember that I said I need to be done by 3.

Nine minutes later (1:52):
I am on my way I will calll you when I am in your neigorborrhood

I was too busy trying to rescue the mayonnaise and balance the flavors in the salad to give much thought to how I was supposed to make out with, get sucked by, and then fuck a guy in what would likely be less than thirty minutes. I mean, I've done it before, and sometimes it's been great, but it's not my chosen modus operandi. Anyway, he called me, from near the neighborhood Popeye's, at 2:33. I gave him directions, and the house number, and told him we would need to hurry. He said he would see me in a few minutes. I finished my chicken salad, and at 3:15, I packed it up and left for the picnic. When I got home, I had another email:
I am so sorry as I could not find your house by 3:00 I just gave up as our time ran out I do wish to retry with a little better directions and more time to please you John

There are a few points to note.
  1. He's probably telling the truth. It occurred to fifteen minutes after he called me that I hadn't asked which way he was heading on the main road. And I may have said left when I meant right. But by the time I realized that, it was 2:45, so there was no point in calling him.
  2. This is the sort of thing that drives other guys nuts about the Internet in general and about craigslist in particular.
  3. It is really hard to get annoyed about this sort of thing when you're already exhausted from having fully awesome sex with several different men over the course of the weekend.
  4. The guy's still an idiot.

As for the rest of the weekend, I'm afraid I'm going to have to put that in two or more other posts. I haven't had a weekend like that in a while, so I really need to milk it.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009


Egad, readers. I must apologize for leaving you in the dark for such an extended period. I have received the emails saying, "Did you die? Did you stop having sex? Please say you died: if you're alive but have stopped having sex, surely the universe will collapse under the weight of the paradox." Y'all are so dramatic.

Fortunately (for me, anyway), neither have I died nor have I stopped having sex. My opportunities have remained somewhat attenuated, but I'm making the most of the brief gaps in my schedule when I am beholden to neither children nor partner nor work nor extracurricular activities of a non-sexual nature. And I've managed to spread my roots pretty far. I'm trying to make a comparison here between myself and one of those giant mushrooms in Michigan or some place where the root structure extends for miles and miles and miles underground so that when it becomes active, the same organism is sending up plump, delicious morels in several different counties at the same time, but it is JUST NOT WORKING OUT for me. I am not a mycelium: I am a man!

But if we pretend that I were able to make that analogy, I'd say that I've now fucked so far and wide (and sometimes deep) in the local area, that when I'm ready to set my plump delicious morel out there, there is usually someone eager to appreciate it. So, for example, when, a couple of days ago, I foolishly placed a craigslist ad just minutes before I had to leave the house to take the kids to a concert and then to their mother's for the evening, by the time I arrived home, all of the responses from unknown people were several hours old, but Torless saw the ad and invited me over for some weed-fueled pounding, and, shortly after I returned home, Tobias dropped by. He apologized for not having called or emailed, but he said that he'd lost my number and that he figured from the ad that I'd be home, so he took a chance. I wasn't really looking at that point, since I'd cum pretty hard from pounding Torless and I'd then quenched the munchies with an oversized cheeseburger, but I figured I could make out with Tobias and work his nipples hard, and before I knew it, I was pounding him, too.

Tobias is one of those late-blooming gays who still tortures himself even after he's divorced and has no one to answer to. I had assumed that he was such a person after the first and second times that we'd played, but last night -- after I was done fucking him -- I asked him point blank, and he confirmed that he still deals with immense amounts of homoshame. I told him it was a waste, but people don't hear things that they're not ready to hear. Still, we chatted for a while afterwards, and I loaned him a gay novel that I hope he'll like, so maybe he can at least become sufficiently less ashamed of liking cock to get more of it. And to email before he drops by because, well: rude!

Torless has his own issues, and just yesterday he sent me an IM to say that he and his bf of nine months were breaking up. I figured there were issues a couple of weeks ago when Torless finally got around to hooking up with me again. Torless, of course, blames himself, saying that he's been too clingy and possessive. His only real issue is that he's insincere and (probably) that he was dating a dick, but you can't tell him that. He's intent on flagellating himself. But I reckon that he'll get over the self-flagellation phase and move on to the bite-my-nipples-harder-TED stage soon enough. I feel bad that his bf broke up with him, but his bf sounded like a dick, so I don't feel too bad.

A couple of weeks ago, around the time I topped Torless, I finally caught up with another guy who'd been wanting to get pounded for a while. B&c was away for a few days, so I stopped by Dino's place on my way home from work one evening. He was a cute, short, smooth, Filipino with a bit of a belly. Topping him was kind of like fucking a Butterball, except that it was awesome. Good kisser, decent cocksucker, grrrrreat ass. We played on a mattress and sleeping bag in his den, surrounded by his collection of vintage radios, which I didn't really notice until I put my glasses back on after dumping a load. Dino was one of those guys who obsesses about safe sex to the point where it's a little annoying. He insisted on replacing the condom he'd put on me when I took a break after ten minutes of hard pounding, and then when I finally came and pulled out, he got upset because there was some cum on the side of the condom after I'd pulled it off my cock and he had played with it for a while. Seriously, dude, if you mess around with a condom full of cum, sooner or later some of it's going to come out the top and get on the side. It's really not a problem if it's not inside you.

I took last Friday off, and I arranged a morning hook-up with yet another married guy who's been after me (or after my cock, really) for a couple of months. He was another short guy with a bit of a belly, but he also had a muscular furry chest and nice guns. He seemed like he was in a bit of a hurry, but maybe that was just overwhelming horniness coupled with too long since his last fuck. Anyway, he was also a good kisser and cocksucker, and he also had a nice ass, and I pounded him much as I'd pounded Dino and any number of other guys. I had to work hard not to laugh at him when we were done because he asked me how tall I was, and when I said that I'm six foot even, he expressed surprise that I wasn't 6'3. But then I asked him how tall he was, and he said 5'5, and, well, if he's 5'5, then I really am 6'3. I really cannot fathom why anyone would lie about height, of all things. Short guys are great" when you've got them bent double, you can fuck them hard and kiss them at the same time.

Not that there's anything wrong with tall guys, either. A couple of hours after I finished with the short guy, one more married guy who has been trying to connect with me for a while finally made it over. Not long after I'd invited him, I heard from a previously unknown married guy who wanted to come over and bottom for me, but since I hadn't actually played with Dave before, I didn't want to invite second married guy to play with us without checking with Dave, and I didn't want to ask Dave until he'd arrived. So I told second married guy approximately where I lived and to call me shortly after Dave was due to show up and that either I'd play with both of them, or I'd play with Dave and then play with MG2 later.

When Dave arrived, he was one of those hot, working class married guys with a short ponytail and a great deal of appetite. He was also a top (or at least not a bottom), so he kept trying to tell me what to do, and I kept laughing at him. When he finally relaxed some, I did go down on his nice long cock for a little while, but then I went back to moderate nipple play and making out. After we'd been doing that half an hour, he said that he really wasn't all that into kissing. I laughed at him again and kissed him some more, and, well, he really was all that into kissing. When MG2 called, Dave said he was fine with a threeway, so I told MG2 where to come to, and then I went back to Dave's nipples. He kept telling me that he needed a break, and I kept pretending to give him one before starting back in on him. When he said he needed five minutes to recuperate (From what, dude? All I'm doing is working your nips, and I'm not working them that hard.), I laid him on his stomach, ran my tongue down his back, and began to eat his ass, at which point he was fully recuperated. He got up on his knees and pushed his ass back hard into my face, which I did not mind at all. After a while I went back to his nipples and began fingering his ass, and that was all good until I got about a knuckle's worth inside him, and then he didn't want any more penetration. I later told him that when he's ready to join the dark side and bottom, he should call me.

In the interim, though, MG2 arrived, and he really was 6'3. Also fit, with a broad chest, and a veritable pelt of tightly curled gray fur. Truly, it was like fucking a wolf. A wolf with a very sensitive trigger. He kept warning us that he was likely to cum at any minute if we touched his (also long and lean) cock again. After about the third warning, Dave piped up that even though we hadn't been playing with his cock, he had passed the point of no return, so MG2 and I watched as he began to blow a nice load. After that, he got partly dressed and hung out on the side of the bed while I made out with MG2 and sucked on his nipples. I got pretty intense with that, and he was fine with the intensity, as long as I didn't touch his cock. I managed to get in a few touches, just to rub the precum around the head, but mostly I let him go down on me. I asked Dave to fetch a condom from the bedside table, and he did, but he wasn't comfortable putting it on me, so I told MG2 to do that. Then I put him on his stomach, lubed him up, and eased into him. He was really worked up, and he only got more crazed when I flipped him onto his back, pushed his knees up, and plowed him face-to-face while pulling on his nipples. When I took a break, he said that he'd never been fucked like that. Dave finished getting dressed and said he had to leave. I'd been hoping he'd hang out for some additional play, but whatever: I went back to MG2. I plowed him a little longer, but he wanted a facial, so we made out some more and I worked his nipples yet again, then I jerked myself right to the brink, put his hand around my cock, and let him pull a huge load out of me and onto his face. He was a happy camper.

MG2 said that he supposed that I didn't suck cock. I told him that I did sometimes, especially if I figured the guy was going to cum quickly, and I was pretty sure he wouldn't last even a minute. He lay on his back, and I put his cock in my mouth, and fifteen seconds later, he told me he was about to cum without being hard (he'd been hard before I fucked him). I pulled off and started to stroke him, but he asked me to stop, so I went back to his nipples and worked them hard while he played with himself. It only lasted another thirty seconds or so. He hardened up to his full, and considerable, length, and then he shot hard, all the way past his shoulder. Then more thick wads flew up into his furry chest. I rubbed his sensitive cockhead and rubbed the cum into his chest. Then I let him shower.

While he was showering, I got a message from Dave that he'd forgotten his jacket and was on his way back to retrieve it. He arrived just as I was showing MG2 out the door. I kissed Dave again and told me that if he'd wanted to see me again, he could just have called me instead of leaving his coat behind. He laughed and said that he'd like to go again, but that he'd worked a fifteen-hour shift the day before and that his nipples (which I'd only worked at an intensity of maybe three) were so sore that he needed therapy. Both he and MG2 texted me later to say that they'd like to play again, either with me alone or as a threeway, but we'll see. They were a lot of fun, but they have the married guy scheduling issues. So do I, really.

I feel like I'm leaving one or two encounters out, but I can't remember them right now. Anyway, that brings you pretty much up to date, except that I should probably mention that Logan has returned from Istanbul for a couple of months and is due to come over this weekend for a few hours. He says he hasn't had sex since the last time he saw me, five months ago. Has it really been that long? I guess so. I reckon he's going to be horny.