Saturday, December 4, 2010

Another One Bites the Dust


I was balls deep in a blindfolded married sub from Colorado when my bed collapsed. This is the second bed I've fucked apart in the past few months, but the particulars are different (though I was also balls deep in a married sub when the first one died). The first bed was a cheap-o commercial frame that I'd had for a long time and had been weakened by repeated dis- and re-assembly over many years, and I knew it was coming. The second bed was a non-nonsense, built-of-2-by-4, field-tested-for-1,000-pounds, homemade number that fell apart because of poor design.

Actually, the main deck of the bed was perfectly well constructed and remains in fine shape. I didn't lose any of the eyebolts, and the restraints are still tied to them. The problem was that I put the deck on a large number of too-long 2x4s, and I affixed the legs to the deck with two screws each, and after repeated, often intense, shaking, the whole thing turned out to be something that was, in effect sitting on stilts. Alas. Now I've pulled all the legs off, and the platform part is sitting on the floor, elevated only enough so that none of the remaining hardware can scratch the floors.*


Remarkably, Colorado took it entirely in stride when the upper right corner of the bed fell to the ground as a couple of the legs snapped free of their screws. I suppose he was prepared by the swaying of the bed during the previous couple of minutes, along with my having leapt out of the bed in an attempt to straighten and reinforce it before leaping back into his ass. Anyway, he pretty much just lay there while I figured out what to do, which was a) clear a space on the floor, b) pull him off the bed, c) pull the mattress onto the clear space on the floor, and d) put him back on the bed on the floor.

Colorado had replied to my weekend craigslist ad, with a relatively brief (and fortunately to-the-point) response saying he was back in town and wanted to play. I had to ask him who he was, and he replied that he was the guy who pretended to be robbing my house. I had to ask him which guy who pretended to be robbing my house (hey, it's a common roleplay: just ask anybody), and he said, "Colorado," and I said, "Yum." But when he replied I had an entirely different sub (not married, but he had a girlfriend) on the way over, and when that guy arrived, it was pretty clear that he wasn't leaving until I'd given him a load (not that I was trying to get rid of him or anything: he was a hot, mixed-race guy with muscles and a shaved head and nipples that didn't quit, and he kissed well), and when he left, about an hour later (roughly 12.5 seconds after I came: he was very goal oriented), it was late, and I didn't feel like fucking Colorado, who, fortunately, was still available late the next night, when I got home from the symphony (And for the love of God, people, enough with the fucking Mahler already. Also, a symphony that clocks in at 72 minutes is at least half an hour too long.), so I told him to come over.

We played the usual game, and I stood in one of the downstairs bedrooms while he came in and stripped down and somehow could not find the blindfold that I had left on the table right next to the door, so he stood facing against the wall (Note to self: you have a basement, so you can absolutely get some sub to come in, go down to the basement and face the wall. Craigslist ad title: Blair Witch Roleplay.) while I blindfolded him and then led him to the stairs and squeezed his buns, alternately, while he walked up.


Colorado likes to make out, though probably only when he's blindfolded, so I put him on the bed and started with the normal kissing and nipple play. He's pretty well put together, maybe 5'11 and smooth and fairly handsome in that semi-metrosexual, married, mid-forties kind of way, and it was all going pretty well and entirely according to plan through his going down on me and my eating his ass, but he'd said that he didn't want to be fucked that night, so I figured we'd just do that for a while and then I'd jerk off on his face and then suck him off. He always asks for that, and it doesn't take very long, and he has a nice-looking cock, so why not?

But he got more and more into it as I ate his ass, and I got a couple of fingers in, and he was really getting worked up, so I pulled him back around, face to face, and I kissed him some more while he rubbed his ass up and down against my cock, and I said, "You said you didn't want to fuck, so if you want to fuck, you're going to have to say it," and he asked for a condom. Close enough.


He was pretty tight, so it had taken a little while for him to get the condom on (the blindfold didn't seem to trouble him unduly, however) and then sit on me and ease me into him. He'd ridden me for a bit and then I'd lowered him back into the X position. He's not really a noisy fuck, but I could tell I was hitting all the right spots (There's more than one, right? There are details about bottoming that I just don't get. Anyway, I was hitting the big spot pretty well, apparently.), and I'd gotten him on his back and had grabbed his ankles and pushed them forward (he's pretty limber) and was pounding away as I hope to do for the majority of eternity if there is an afterlife and a kind and reasonable god in charge when the bed issues began.

By the time the bed issues were resolved, I had had nearly enough of the pounding, so I gave it another minute or two just to show that order had been restored, and then I started to go down on him. But I was thinking that he'd been an awfully good sport about the whole thing, so perhaps I should make like a true cocksucker and make it last. I spent the next half-hour bringing him to the edge and then easing off the cockhead and onto the nipples until he'd backed away and then repeating the process. He was extraordinarily appreciative and started making with the louder sighs and the "Oh my God"s and the "You're so much better at this than I am" (not true, really), and that was a good deal more gratifying than I might have expected.

In the end, I had a finger working his prostate and I brought him to a fairly volcanic orgasm and ejaculation. It took him a while to regroup after I had cleaned him up. I may actually have rocked his world. Of course, that probably means that now he's running all over his part of Colorado getting head, but I reckon he'll probably come back to me when he's back in the area again. From what he said as he was leaving, it seems that his mother lives here, and he comes to visit her two or three times a year, which is consistent with the frequency of his visits.

I can't say that Colorado sparked any real new interest in cocksucking: whether I want to suck the cock still depends entirely on whether it's a pretty cock, and I still usually get bored with the process after forty-five seconds or so, and most of the guys really aren't anywhere near as interested in that as they are in getting a good pounding, but it was fun.


* I started this entry a while back. The bed has since been lifted onto a pair of Ikea dining chairs (at the head) and a trio of Ikea stools (at the foot). This arrangement struck me as possibly precarious at first, but it has stood up well in real-world conditions.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

VPD


Vertical Personality Disorder is a condition where a man who is fun and perhaps even charming while horizontal turns into a big dick (not in a good way) when vertical. The horizontal charm is largely about the fucking, of course, but it's not just about the fucking. I've frequently experienced five or ten or thirty minutes of very pleasant (albeit often drowsy) post-coital conversation, and then the guy gets up to use the bathroom or get dressed, and the bonhommie evaporates.

This most frequently manifests in a guy who was happy to spend half an hour making out before being made to walk funny is suddenly nonplussed by a front-door goodbye kiss, but it can also show up as bizarre post-encounter behavior. Repeated emails, text messages, and phone calls (unsolicited, mind you) from guys saying they want a repeat but failing to follow through. The weirdest thing is that after acting like jerks, they're resume being charming when they're again horizontal. Go figure.


I still occasionally find this sort of behavior troubling, but mostly I just don't let it bother me. Back in the day I was more sensitive, but these days, if one guy says he wants to put his heels to heaven but then flakes on me, the usual upshot is that I'm happy for the opportunity to have a relaxed free night, and then someone else calls me and comes over instead. I have real trouble saying no to such offers of companionship, though I have developed the skill to move people along so that I don't miss that night's episode of Top Chef Just Desserts. Yeah, I know, but nobody's perfect, and I like fantasizing about ganache and Yigit.

-----

There has been some Major Life Trauma in recent weeks, and it plays out in unpredictable ways in my sex life. There are times when it means that I just can't be bothered, and there are other times when it means that I'm extra horny, and throw that ass on the bed right now, boy. I never know which sort of mood that I'm going to be in, and this past Saturday, I really expected to be in the can't be bothered mood, which would have been really useful since I had a lot to do at the office, but then in the middle of the afternoon, I happened to look on Grindr, and there happened to be a geekily cute guy within reasonable proximity, and he happened to be responsive to my inquiries, so I happened to find myself walking through the door to his condominium a few minutes later. (It was a studio, so I had to help him flatten the futon from sofa to bed, but never let it be said that I'm not willing to work for it.)

When I walked in, I started to kiss him, and he apologized for tasting like coffee, but I told him that I like coffee, and then I kissed him some more, and (after folding the futon out), I started to undress him, and he apologized for being so pale, but I told him that I like pale, and then I got him undressed and remembered that he said that he hated having his nipples played with, so I started to suck on his neck instead, and he moaned and then apologized for not liking his nipples played with, and I said, "You aren't the sort who has to wrestle with your own arrogance, are you?" and he laughed.


And then things pretty much fell into place. I had to slow him down once or twice, when he too quickly wanted to get fucked, and I had to remind myself to stay away from his nipples, and OMG, you know what? After I'd eaten his ass and fucked him for a long time and he'd gone down on me and he'd spent tens of minutes moaning while I very lightly stroked all over his body, I forgot and licked his nipples and it turned out that he just didn't like any sort of pulling or biting or pinching, but licking and stroking was all good, and why did you not tell me that before, boy?

Anyway, it was two hours of awesome because he had a very reactive body and a nice smile and a subtle yet quick wit and that whole geekily cute thing going. More like him, please. I could have run my fingers over his simmering flesh all night long.

I went back to the office afterwards and then home, and again I'd planned to do nothing, but I thought I would at least try to text a guy who'd been in town working and visiting family and had wanted to play earlier in the week but had then had to do something with his family. I'd have just forgotten about it, but I figured it couldn't hurt, and he was really handsome in that short, smooth, big-nippled way that I can't resist, and he extremely submissive, so I sent him a message and he replied back while I was at Home Depot, which is always a good spot from which to flirt, even over the phone, and he said that he was finished with his work and headed back to Miami the next day but free later that evening and would come by in about ninety minutes.


Ninety minutes turned into three hours when he had trouble finding a motel room (he was flying out the next day, and I didn't know him, so I wasn't sure about offering to let him sleep over, especially since I had to sing the next morning and needed some sleep, and he seemed like the type who might make me wake up and molest him a lot), and I was worried that it was going to be too late to get started, but then he showed up and I kissed him, and I lifted his shirt, and I bit down on his nipple about as hard as I've ever bitten on a nipple, and he was mine.

That was three hours of full-on awesome, and I wish I could the exact order, but here are some of the highlights:

Every once in a while he would say that he needed some more energy, and he would take a few swigs of his Red Bull and then we'd make out. He was a great kisser, too.

I'm pretty sure this is the only time I've ever been able to fist someone without lube. Yet he was tight. How did he do that? Also, incredibly clean. He must have a machine of some sort.


He was also kind of a cool guy, and in one of the interludes when we were chatting, he said that this was the first time in the last three years when he'd truly clicked with a hook-up. That was nice to here, but it also made me incredibly horny, so I licked his nipple as if to be tender and then bit down really hard and then pinned his ankles down next to his ears and pounded.

Absolutely no gag reflex. That's supposed to be common, but in my experience, it isn't often the case: guys still gag. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I had his wrists tied to the bed for part of the fucking, and I could pull out and twist him so that his ass was up, and then spank him hard and then go back to fucking him.

His shoulders were knotted from a week of work, and I gave him a massage that relaxed him utterly. Then I started biting the back of his neck and shoulders, and things got less relaxed again.

I still managed to get almost seven hours of sleep, and I sang well the next morning.

More like him, too, please.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

The Post-Coital Book Club



In list format:

1. You do not get any sort of meaningful hits at all, let alone the obvious parody that begins "Sometimes it's hard to be a bottom," if you google "Stand by Your Top." How am I to make sense of a universe that doesn't have this but does have the gay rodeo? Also, I am a little embarrassed to admit that I have never been to a drag show, but are there no C&W drag artists? And if there are, how is "Stand by Your Top" not a standard? Are there intellectual property issues? Cole Porter foresaw similar difficulties and wrote "You're the Top" so that the second meaning was obvious.

2. I have had mixed luck with gay Muslims during Ramadan. Leo was over this past Saturday evening, and he told me that he had been trying to resist me because it's more sinful than usual to take it up the ass during Ramadan. I confessed my lack of knowledge of Islam to him; at the same time, I opined that as long as he wasn't receiving oral and swallowing before sundown, I didn't see how mansex was incompatible with the five pillars. I feel bad that he's so conflicted, but the only way I could think to show my concern was to make him cum twice, so after I pounded him as hard as I could (which is pretty hard, I have to say) and made him cum with my cock still up his ass, I gave him only a brief rest before I started to stroke him while we made out and then went down on him. When he got close, I closed my mouth and jerked him to completion, then fed him my load off my mustache. It was fully dark by then, but I think he's still conflicted. Alas.


My other gay Muslim experience came with a guy who contacted me off one of the hook-up sites and then came over and wanted to be fucked but didn't want to kiss and looked positively repulsed at the notion of oral sex. Then he demanded that I undress first. I explained that I wasn't going to get hard if there was no kissing and no oral and he wouldn't even remove his shirt to let me at his nipples, and then I suggested that he'd be happier elsewhere. He concurred. As time goes by, I find that the innocence and, frequently, youth that accompanies inexperience just doesn't compensate for the erratic behavior and lack of technique. Perhaps I'm jaded.

3. The sweet German guy that I wanted to date turned out to be even less available than I had feared, and when he proved entirely unavailable over the weekend (due to work he said, and he was likely telling the truth), I gave up. He kept sending apologetic text messages about his lack of presence, but the tide had turned, and I texted him to say that there was no point in continuing. I felt something very much like nano-heartache when I did that, and I was glad: perhaps I'm not so jaded, after all.


4. I had posted an ad on craigslist for local tops to join in on group sessions. The initial impetus for the ad had been a request from Leo to be taken from both ends, but lots of the bottoms I play with love groups. Unsurprisingly, almost all of the responses I got were from bottoms. One guy claiming to be a top responded, but I couldn't help noticing that he'd replied several times previously to ads seeking a bottom. I decided to take him for a test drive over the weekend. He came hard while he was sitting on my cock, and he was a good kisser, but if he's versatile, I am Marie of Romania.

5. One of the bottoms who replied to that ad was a very cute and fit older pig whom I'd plowed hard a couple of months ago, and when I didn't immediately recognize his address (which was a meaningless combination of letters and numbers) or recall playing with him, he got a little insulted. I apologized, not least because nearly two years ago, I inadvertently blew him off when I forgot to check my cell phone for messages (I also apologized at the time), and he forgave me, or at least he forgave me enough to come over to my place, walk in, remove his clothes, put on the blindfold, and crawl up the stairs and into my bedroom while I waited. Hoo, boy, that was fun. He may not be the greatest kisser in the world (he gets very excited, and it's a little bit like making out with a shark), but what an attitude and an appetite for cock. After an hour or so of sex, including reasonably lengthy fucks in multiple positions, I stroked his remarkably nicely formed cock to completion.


Prior to his showing up, we'd swapped a number of email messages, and I thought there might be some friend potential, so after he came, we chatted for nearly ninety minutes while lying naked in bed, and that was very nice indeed. Sadly, one of us (not me) thinks that Don Quixote is an absolute masterpiece with two entirely compelling main characters, while the other of us (not him) thinks it's a clever but ultimately pointless exercise in hot air, with no characters worthy of regard. This is the sort of difference of opinion that can be difficult to overcome, but perhaps we can be friends, regardless, or at least it can be a good excuse for me to punish him, which he would probably like.

6. My experience with the articulate pig (AP) made me think that what I really want is a small group of guys who get together once a week or once every two weeks for ninety minutes of hot sex followed by ninety minutes of literary discussion, perhaps with snacks. After our session, I expressed this desire to AP, but he agreed with me that it would be very difficult to find any other potential participants who weren't total bottoms. Still, I can't help thinking that The Post-Coital Book Club would make a great title and idea for an erotic novel. I think I'll write it.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The Last Hurrah


I was set to pick YFU up from camp this past Friday afternoon, so I'd taken the day off work. I didn't wake up until around 10, and I had to leave for the Bay at around 1, so I probably shouldn't have even bothered looking for a hook-up, but Fridays around noon are a particularly fertile time for such endeavors, so I responded to an ad or two and I got an email back from a guy who said that he'd sucked me off before and was eager to do so again. I said ok before searching for his email address, and then when I did the search, I wasn't entirely sure who he was, but I thought that the previous occasion had probably been only so-so, and I thought that perhaps I should have spent the morning on yard work or something, but when I got out of the shower, there was another email from the guy saying that his date was arriving, so he wouldn't be able to come to my place. I suppose I should give points for honesty, but apparently it's human nature for something you didn't really want to become considerably more attractive just because you can't have it. Fortunately, I'm aware of human nature, and I knew the pique would pass with time. The guy had said that he'd try to email me again when he was done and still hoped to come to my place, but I didn't reply, which almost always puts an end to such things. In my mind, if you tell me you're going to email me again later, I shouldn't have to say anything, but many guys require an inordinate amount of encouragement, which is frankly just exhausting. So there was no sex for me on Friday.

It was hard to feel too bad about this, though, since I'd hooked up with at least one guy on probably every day since I'd dropped YFU off at camp. I say probably because it depends on what you consider a day: on the previous Sunday, I'd hooked up in the afternoon, and then I hooked up with two more guys, sequentially, after I'd gone to bed but before I woke up. Typically, I would count these guys as Sunday hook-ups if they'd happened after midnight but before I'd gone to bed, but since they'd both woken me up, sequentially, to fuck them, I'd prefer to count them as Monday, especially since my failure to hook up on Monday evening was almost certainly attributable to having had no more than two hours of sleep the night before.


Anyway, here's a brief recap of what went down. Let's go in reverse chronological order (like Memento, but with more sex and less violence):

Thursday night was Jeffrey, one of a series of brick-shithouse-built Black men who wanted me to fuck their faces, but didn't want to do much else. Most of them would go along with kissing, and maybe some ass play, but Jeffrey wouldn't let me do much more than twist his nipples. But he did give amazing head, and he got really turned on when I grabbed his head in both hands and shoved it up and down on my cock. After I came, he came, and then he left. It was late, and it probably only lasted half an hour from arrival to departure.


Wednesday: Federico is a hot, if slightly garrulous, Costa Rican submissive, whom I'd previously worked over back in the coldest part of winter. He showed up at 6:30, and we spent a couple of very nice hours together. He wanted to make out, have his nips worked, suck my cock, and get fucked hard. I complied. Or maybe I wanted all of those things, and he complied. I reckon it was mutual. Then he told me stories about his life as a party planner, while we cuddled and I gave his nips additional attention. Loads of fun. Two loads, to be exact.


I was pretty much beat after that and wanted nothing more than to sit on the sofa and watch Top Chef, even if this is a weak season, but I got a couple of messages from Bobby, who showed up at 10. After kissing him for a bit, I pushed down on his shoulders, and while I leaned back against the sofa, he started to go down on me, at the same time arching his back so that his crack showed out of the top of his shorts. Then there was a steep upslope to his very full and beautiful ass, all of which was a lovely thing to look at while he was sucking my cock, but I only enjoyed that for a couple of minutes before I needed to have the ass, so I pushed him toward the stairs and then shoved him down on them, lowering his shorts and shoving my tongue right in.

Bobby had asked to be able to set up his laptop and watch porn while having both ankles and one wrist tied to the bed, so we tried to do that, but the outlets in my bedroom have two slots, not three, and the plug on his laptop was a three-pronged number, so he had to rely on a couple of minutes of battery power. Probably just as well, since what he wanted to watch was porn of a woman being gang banged. "I want to be her," he said. Oh, what-the-fuck-ever, right?

Anyway, the other thing Bobby always wants but never can quite get is to be fisted, and I really just wasn't in the mood to fuck him, so I got some Crisco and started him out on the eighteen-inch, double-headed, thick dildo. He took about thirteen inches. I took pictures, but I promised I wouldn't disseminate them. I could tell from the dildo work that Bobby's ass wasn't as clean as usual (I know, right? Ewww, but it is what it is.), but I went ahead with the fisting, and, well, thank God for latex gloves. He did, finally, take the fist, but he could only take it for a few seconds. I took my fist immediately out of his ass and into the toilet. If you just keep your wits about you, a quick swish, a flush, turning the glove inside out into the trash can, washing your hands, some time with the wipes on your sub's ass, and washing your hands again, maybe twice, makes everything ok. Bobby was apologetic, but also very pleased with himself, especially when I showed him the pictures of his gaping hole. I lay next to him for a while and we made out. That part was nice.


On Tuesday evening, Shane came over after many weeks of our trying and failing to connect. He was another well-built Black man who wanted to go down on me, but he was also happy to make out and have his nipples worked and get fucked. It was all very good, and after I came all over him, he came all over me. As we were cleaning up, I said, "You have a partner, right?" He seemed a bit nonplussed and then asked, "Did I tell you that?" "No, it's just obvious." And then he was impressed with my mad man-reading skills. Dude. Men all think they're mysterious, but most of them are fully transparent.


So, call it Sunday night or call it Monday morning. I'd told YB, whose name I can't recall though we've hooked up a couple of times, that he could call me late if he wanted to play, so he called around 1:30 and said he could be over at 2. He is a giant of a Black man, probably 6'4 and possibly 250 pounds of fine, and he loves to kiss. We were in bed until about 5, though about an hour of that was sleeping. It was very hot, yet very comfortable. He has a splendid ass.


While YB and I were fucking, a text message came in from Mark/Craig (that's who he said he was when I said "Who is this?" in response to his first message), and when YB had taken off, I texted him back. He's a very cute, very hairy cub who likely holds off on mansex for as long as he can, and then when he can't any longer, he calls me. By the time he got to my place (6am), he was pretty much a crazed weasel, and when I kissed him, well, let's just say there was no subtlety on his part. I wasted no time getting his ass on the stairs and shoving my tongue up his hole, which made him both more crazed and more weaselish. I was really worked up, so I did push my cock into his crack and over his hole, but I had enough sense not to shove it into him, and soon I had him in bed, and we were making out again. Then onto his nipples. Then he sucked me, I ate his ass more, and I fucked him long and hard in multiple positions, ending up with him astride me, shooting all over my chest as he bounced up and down on my cock. Awesome.


I wasn't going to do anything on Sunday. Since I'd had a guy every day the previous week, I was going to take an on-the-seventh-day-he-rested stand. And that started out fine since I had a friend over for brunch, but then he left, and I got an email from Bruce, and I remembered that my recent string had in fact started on the previous Sunday and an on-the-eighth-day-he-rested position somehow lacked the same poetry, even if it did have the advantage (or perhaps disadvantage, depending on one's point of view) of being less sacrilegious. Bruce is a very fit and funny fifty-something married lawyer who can never quite get my cock into his ass but who is nevertheless a lot of fun in bed. He's a great kisser and can take relatively intense nipple work, and he gives pretty good head, but it's mostly just his intensity I like. Intensity can be a two-edged sword, of course, and when I decided to go down on him a bit because it seemed like a friendly thing to do and because he has a nice, small, suckable cock, he started to fuck my face some. I find that, um, tedious. But whatever. He ended up getting overstimulated, which meant that it took him even longer than me to cum, but that was cool. He's very post-coitally cuddly, especially for a marathoner. Distance runners, and attorneys, have a tendency to be bonier than one might like, especially post-coitally. But not Bruce.


Leo called me Saturday afternoon and said that he wanted to play. I hadn't been in touch with him because he'd told me that his brothers were coming to town for his birthday, but he told me that they understood that he needed his space and that he'd have some time free later. He showed up around six, and one of the first things that he told me was that when he'd told me, at our most recent meeting, that I could bite his nipples as hard as I wanted, he had been mistaken. So I took it down a notch, but I also retorted that he was full of crap for saying that he didn't like kissing when he obviously got into kissing me. He tried to talk his way around it, but I told him that I understood that he was reticent to kiss because it seemed feminine to him and he was afraid of appearing feminine. Yet another guy impressed with my ability to see and state the obvious. Anyway, there was plenty of kissing, and slightly toned down but still intense nipple play, and, of course, I couldn't resist eating his ass while he went down on me. I wouldn't have wanted to resist fucking him, and he obviously wanted it very badly, so I gave it to him. There was post-coital cuddling, and before I knew it, it was 8:00, and he said he was late to meet with his brothers. He was in too much of a hurry to bother searching for his underwear, so he just asked me to hold onto it for him if I found it. I found it in the downstairs couch, which makes sense given that that's where he'd been when I took it off him.


Saturday morning, after a long stream of miscommunication and accident worthy of a screwball comedy, Gunther finally came over. He'd wanted to come over late Friday night, but I had a date with RC, and I was pretty wiped, so I figured a full night's sleep was the best foreplay. It was clear from our correspondence that Gunther wanted more than just sex, but I still grabbed him as soon as he got in the door, around 9. He had to be at work at 1, and I had to be at church at 12:45 to sing at a funeral with the choir, but that still left us almost three hours, and we made full use of it. Gunther, as you might guess, is German and has a delicious accent. Plus he's a great kisser and a very sweet guy. The sex was great, and so was the post-coital cuddling/conversation. I was, in fact, somewhat infatuated with him, so I was glad when he started texting me a couple of days later and it became clear that he was equally infatuated with me. But he works mad hours and there are other complications, so it's probably just as well that my vacation time with YFU is keeping us apart for long enough for the infatuation to cool. There are times in your life when you're just extra vulnerable to the possibility of falling for someone, and if Gunther and I had had lots of time to spend in each other's arms, that would likely have happened already. Assuming things cool in the long time between the hook-up and the first date, it will either be a missed opportunity or a narrow escape. Or maybe both: who knows?

RC came over on Friday night, when I was already exhausted from the night before. But he's always fun, and after a couple of hours of necking and nipples, I made him dinner and we hung out for a while. He seems disappointed whenever I don't cum, but he's just going to have to get over that. Besides, dinner was great.


On Thursday night, Ben came over. He is, once again, a brick-shithouse-built Black man who wants to be fed cock. Except that he also likes to make out, and he has perfect nipples. Perfect as in they like to be worked and perfect as in they're gorgeous. I didn't even realize until an hour in that he really wanted to be fed cock. He wanted to cum, and he told me that would happen if and only if I fucked his face in the position of my choice. Happy to oblige, Ben. He made a big point afterward of telling me to get in touch with him again, but he didn't return my email. Oh well: next!

On Wednesday, an inexperienced cubbish married Latino guy came over to play. I am having some trouble recalling the details, but I'm sure that it was a pretty good time despite the evidentness of his inexperience. He's emailed me a couple of times since then to try to arrange a repeat, but our schedules are not a good match. Oh well.


On Tuesday night, Shawn, who is certainly among the hottest guys I've ever fucked, was meant to come over to dinner, since I'm trying to add some level of friendship to the hot, hot sex. He was working late, so he had to cancel dinner, and I was bummed, but he called me around midnight to ask what I was doing, and it was obvious that he wanted to be invited over. I really tried hard to resist, because of that whole level-of-friendship thing, but Shawn is like crack to me, so I invited him over. He ended up getting there very late, and then he was a little reticent about getting fucked, but I was really horny and I figured it was a ploy, so I shoved him down on his stomach and slid into him, whereupon he begged for harder. I obliged. Eventually, I put him on his back and bent him in half and pounded away until he could handle no more, and then I put him back on his stomach, and he begged me to cum, which always hurries things along. I may have worn him out. He fell asleep, but woke up quickly and left. I reckon it'll be another three months before I see him again. Maybe longer. Alas.


On Monday night, Steven, a divorced guy who lives just down the street, finally made it over late. It turns out that his experience had been limited to regular hook-ups with a married friend who had moved away a year or two earlier. There were a lot of things (kissing, having his nipples worked, being rimmed chief among them) that he had not done but now has. He was a pretty good bottom, and he definitely has potential with some additional tutelage, but he's also the sort to freak out after sex. Or even during sex. I had to talk him through a lot of stuff. But at least he had a good time, as did I.


Anyway, it was a fun week and a half. It's not often that I have so many free evenings and weekends to pursue hooking up, so I try to enjoy it when I can. Especially when I know that I'll be following ten days of play with ten days of abstinence while YFU and I are at home and then traveling together. You have to have as much fun as possible during the good times because the hard times always come again, too. It's all in the Bible:

1And it came to pass at the end of two full years, that Pharaoh dreamed: and, behold, he stood by the river. 2And, behold, there came up out of the river seven well favoured kine and fatfleshed; and they fed in a meadow. 3And, behold, seven other kine came up after them out of the river, ill favoured and leanfleshed; and stood by the other kine upon the brink of the river. 4And the ill favoured and leanfleshed kine did eat up the seven well favoured and fat kine. So Pharaoh awoke. 5And he slept and dreamed the second time: and, behold, seven ears of corn came up upon one stalk, rank and good. 6And, behold, seven thin ears and blasted with the east wind sprung up after them. 7And the seven thin ears devoured the seven rank and full ears. And Pharaoh awoke, and, behold, it was a dream. 8And it came to pass in the morning that his spirit was troubled; and he sent and called for all the magicians of Egypt, and all the wise men thereof: and Pharaoh told them his dream; but there was none that could interpret them unto Pharaoh.

9Then spake the chief butler unto Pharaoh, saying, I do remember my faults this day: 10Pharaoh was wroth with his servants, and put me in ward in the captain of the guard's house, both me and the chief baker: 11And we dreamed a dream in one night, I and he; we dreamed each man according to the interpretation of his dream. 12And there was there with us a young man, an Hebrew, servant to the captain of the guard; and we told him, and he interpreted to us our dreams; to each man according to his dream he did interpret. 13And it came to pass, as he interpreted to us, so it was; me he restored unto mine office, and him he hanged.

14Then Pharaoh sent and called Joseph, and they brought him hastily out of the dungeon: and he shaved himself, and changed his raiment, and came in unto Pharaoh. 15And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, I have dreamed a dream, and there is none that can interpret it: and I have heard say of thee, that thou canst understand a dream to interpret it. 16And Joseph answered Pharaoh, saying, It is not in me: God shall give Pharaoh an answer of peace. 17And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, In my dream, behold, I stood upon the bank of the river: 18And, behold, there came up out of the river seven kine, fatfleshed and well favoured; and they fed in a meadow: 19And, behold, seven other kine came up after them, poor and very ill favoured and leanfleshed, such as I never saw in all the land of Egypt for badness: 20And the lean and the ill favoured kine did eat up the first seven fat kine: 21And when they had eaten them up, it could not be known that they had eaten them; but they were still ill favoured, as at the beginning. So I awoke. 22And I saw in my dream, and, behold, seven ears came up in one stalk, full and good: 23And, behold, seven ears, withered, thin, and blasted with the east wind, sprung up after them: 24And the thin ears devoured the seven good ears: and I told this unto the magicians; but there was none that could declare it to me.

25And Joseph said unto Pharaoh, The dream of Pharaoh is one: God hath shewed Pharaoh what he is about to do. 26The seven good kine are seven years; and the seven good ears are seven years: the dream is one. 27And the seven thin and ill favoured kine that came up after them are seven years; and the seven empty ears blasted with the east wind shall be seven years of famine. 28This is the thing which I have spoken unto Pharaoh: What God is about to do he sheweth unto Pharaoh. 29Behold, there come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land of Egypt: 30And there shall arise after them seven years of famine; and all the plenty shall be forgotten in the land of Egypt; and the famine shall consume the land; 31And the plenty shall not be known in the land by reason of that famine following; for it shall be very grievous.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Leo


On Sunday, YFU was off to camp, so we did some last minute shopping, and then I drove about an hour down to the Bay, where a succession of strapping Australian lads directed us to the dining hall for check-in, and after signing forms and standing in lines, I took YFU and her stuff to her cabin, where her counselor was so obviously Scottish that I didn't even bother to ask. She, of course, was not a strapping lad, but there were plenty of those to pass by on the way out, and whether because of that or just because I was still breathing, I was nearly instantly horny, so I sent a message to Leo. I'd told Leo that I'd be available Sunday night, but I figured by the time I got back home, I'd still have a couple of hours before I was due to meet up with a friend for dinner and/or a movie. I also figured that I didn't want to have to either rush dinner or forgo a movie, so it'd be better to have sex sooner than later. Plus, it's always better to have sex sooner because then you might have another chance to have sex later, right?

Anyway, Leo got back to me about the time I got home and said that he could be over in about an hour, which still left us about an hour to play. He showed up about fifteen minutes later than he'd thought he would, but you can do a lot in forty-five minutes, right? Right.


Leo is a hot, closeted, early thirties guy from Trinidad, and for a while I'd figured that our first session, a couple of weeks earlier, would be our last. We'd had a great time, but he'd first texted me to say that he wanted to get together again soon, and later he'd emailed me to say that we probably shouldn't hook up again because he really didn't like to kiss, and he could tell from our first time that I really liked to kiss. Well, yes, although I had to wonder about him not liking kissing because a) he hadn't complained, and b) he's really good at it. The big plump lips help, of course, but he also had more than solid technique working. When I got the email, I'd nearly sighed and put him out of my mind, but he's a truly fascinating person and the sort of guy who would be entertaining to have as a friend though probably not to date, and, well, he was flattered me shamelessly, so I wrote back and told him that we could manage without kissing. Perhaps to explain my behavior I should mention that he gives pretty good head and is an awesome fuck. He gives pretty good head and is an awesome fuck.

Anyway, he was thrilled to get my response and eager to get together Sunday, so when he arrived, I just grabbed his nipples instead of kissing him, and he grabbed my crotch, and we took it from there. He wanted to exchange pleasantries, so I walked him over to the couch and ran my hands up under his shirt while we chatted. Then I pulled the shirt off him and started to suck on his nipple, and he said, "You can bite hard, TED. I'm a man."

Dude.

I was going to tell him to be careful what he wished for, but I was too busy chomping down hard on his nipples, and he was too busy gritting his teeth so as not to recant what he'd foolishly said. He took it like a champ, for sure, and after another minute or so of hard nip work, I pushed him towards the stairs, stopping him halfway up to pull down his sweatpants, spread his cheeks, and bury my tongue in his ass. Apparently, that's my new thing. It does seem to set a mood.


Pretty soon, we were in bed, and I was very much enjoying watching Leo regret the whole you-can-bite-hard-TED-I'm-a-man statement while remaining too proud to retract it. I eased off a bit after a while, so that it was intense but still pleasurable for him, and then, since I wasn't supposed to kiss him, I started, licking along his jawline and sucking lightly on his neck, at which point, he said, somewhat breathlessly, "You can leave a mark if you want. I have no one to answer to."

Dude.

I mean, really? I mean, his skin's pretty dark, so I guess it doesn't show up the way it would if you gave a redhead, say, a hickey, but, well, let's not pretend that I spent too much time thinking about it at the time because I am not one to decline a polite invitation: I latched on. Marks were left. And then nipples were again gnawed.

But there was only so much time, so I let him start to go down on me, and, well, I'm very grateful to any eager cocksucker, but in the overall scheme of things I think that avoiding teeth is more important than being able to deep throat. Still and all, when he had my cock entirely buried and his teeth were lightly scraping my shaft, it was quite pleasant, perhaps largely because my tongue was buried in his ass and the moaning was plentiful.


Again, though, there was only so much time, and Leo appreciates a hard and thorough pounding, so I handed him the supplies, and he condomed and lubed me and then sat on my cock, reverse cowboy. This is not really my favorite position, since the guy is looking the other way, making access to the nipples problematic, but I knew he wouldn't be in that position for long, so I just grabbed his flanks and gave a few thrusts to open him up fully, and then I told him to get on his back, grabbed his ankles, pushed them up near his ears, and plunged into him again. It was very fast and very hard, and here again I could see the macho-bottom dynamic come into play, and he refused to complain about the pain while the pain-to-pleasure ratio was unfavorable. In a minute, of course, the ratio became more favorable, and then there was nothing to complain about.

When I needed a break (hey, it happens), I lay next to him and started working on his neck again while I played with his cock (which never seems to get soft, no matter how hard I plow him: go Leo), and then I started kissing him because, well, who needs a reason? He didn't resist; in fact, he participated willingly, and I laughed and told him I didn't believe him when he said that he didn't like kissing, at which point he admitted that his objections were more philosophical than practical, and we made out some more.

We were running out of time (who could have seen that coming?) so I put some lube on his cock and stroked him off as I kissed him. He wanted me to cum, but I told him that time limitations didn't allow it. Which was true, even if I was also saving my cum for the next day, and a sub who lives for the big load. I cleaned him up, and we chatted for a while, and he got dressed and left. I cleaned up a bit, got dressed, and headed out to meet my friend for dinner. We had burgers at a cafe and then went to see The Kids Are Alright, which was very good, the inherent lack of appeal of lesbian sex to gay menLeo notwithstanding.

Monday, August 9, 2010

Rubbed


I was doing nothing much this past Thursday night. I had been busy getting EFU ready to go off for a ten-month stay in New Hampshire and was still trying to get YFU ready for a two-week stay at camp, and I still had to gather ingredients for the soup that I was driving 2.5 hours (each way) to make. There was, you see, a family reunion scheduled for this past weekend, and since my parents are too ill to travel from Florida and neither my brother nor my sister would be there (the reunion is for the descendants of my great grandfather), I would have skipped it, but YFU had originally expressed interest in going, and, more to the point, my father had asked me to go and "represent the family." Apparently representing the family means making soup, at least in my case. At least it's something I'm qualified to do.

Anyway, the extended family is both politically and religiously conservative, and I'm closeted to almost all of them, so the trip wasn't something I was looking forward to, so when George popped up online saying hello, I figured I'd offer him a massage.


George is an early fifties guy with a handsome face and an incredible head of salt and pepper hair. He's also the first guy I gave a somewhat serious massage to. He gave me some pointers after that first one, and I've been happy to rub him down ever since, not least because he likes to kiss while he's being worked on. So I headed down to his place, which is a cool, old house on a hill in Northeast. It's surrounded by a disheveled garden that's always fun to walk through. George let me in, and we made out for a while in the entryway. That's something we hadn't really done in the past, and between that and some other subtle signals I'd picked up from him when we'd chatted, I figured he might be up for a bit of a romp as well as a rub. On the other hand, he'd mentioned being exhausted (construction on his street at 4am), and I was pretty sure from past massages that he was an unreformed top, so it was a mixed bag. Still, he's handsome and fit and kisses well and has nice lips and is of Argentine descent, (Argentine parents but raised in New York by Irish nuns and priests, he told me. He has a faint and undecipherable and very sexy accent.) so why not, right?


But first the massage, of course. We went upstairs, and he took off the rest of his clothes, put on something that sounded like Latin jazz (I heard two different versions of "Summertime" while I was working on him), and lay on his stomach.

I had remembered, on a mental level, how much I like giving massage, but experiencing it again on a tactile and visceral level gave me some combination of longing and belonging that I really can't go so long without having again. I worked on him for about an hour, and he moved in and out of wakefulness, I think. I didn't ask, and after a few moans and telling me how wonderful the feeling was, he went silent. The music was very conducive to the flow of the situation, and it was just good, so good.


At some point, I had him on his back and was working his scalp and temples and kissing him, and I'd thoroughly worked both his dorsal and ventral sides, and I suggested that we move to the bed. He seemed a little nonplussed, but he recovered quickly and agreed. And it soon became apparent that he was indeed a) exhausted, and b) an unreformed top. So I ended up giving him a little head (he has rather a fascinating uncut cock that is on the small side, so it's just what I like for sucking) and then stroking him off while we made out. It was fine, but it was a little bit of a let down after the awesome massage. Plus, it made me horny, and he was obviously in no condition to reciprocate. And, probably, he never does anyway. So I went home and jerked off, which was also fine, and more than a little volcanic.

George was clearly wiped when he'd cum, so I told him he should get some sleep and suggested that we should try to not make it so long between sessions again. He said he'd like that but that he was about to go on vacation for a month. I reminded him that it'd been probably a year since I last massaged him, so a month was really nothing. I'm not sure he was entirely coherent at that point. He'd been too tired to put his clothes on and had walked me downstairs naked and then we'd kissed goodbye for a bit in his doorway.

I think I want to go back to separating sex and massage. They push different buttons, and I get plenty of the former and almost none of the latter these days, so when I finally get the massage table set up in my house, I should probably concentrate on giving some without getting off.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

The Men Who Don't Get Any


I don't mean me, of course: I continue to fuck up a storm at every available opportunity. Opportunities have been somewhat less common of late what with the return of EFU from New England and her propensity to decide at the last minute that she wants to stay at my place. I am always happy to have her over, of course, but I have had to cancel a lot of fucks at almost the last minute, and I dislike doing that. Anyway, the somewhat less frequent opportunities just mean that I take advantage of the chances that I do have, which is probably why after dropping the girls off at their mother's house late this past Saturday afternoon, I had four guys over (separately) before I slept. I did rest on the (Christian) sabbath, however.

This post isn't about those four guys, really, and those four guys were mostly not especially memorable except for the twenty-four year old with a girlfriend who hadn't had sex with a man in over eight months. I asked him why, and he said he'd just been too busy. And when I said, "Too busy to fuck?" he said that he just hadn't been looking. That was when I asked him whether he has a girlfriend, and he said he did. It seems like all of the twenty-somethings who want me to fuck them have girlfriends and get cock rarely if at all. I can always tell that they wrestle with shame over our encounters, and that bothers me a little bit, but it doesn't bother me very much if the desire overbalances the shame and, critically, so long as they kiss well and eagerly. Saturday's particular twenty-something was a great kisser (he appeared to be half-Asian, and he had really nice lips to go with a smooth body and straight black hair that was long enough to grab onto when I was fucking him from behind), but he was very nervous, and after we'd made out and I'd worked his nipples, and he'd gone down on me, and I'd eaten his ass, and I'd fucked him in three positions for about fifteen minutes, ending with him on his back and panting "fuck me" as I plowed hard into him, when I took a brief break, he excused himself to go to the bathroom and then came back and said he was sorry but that he had to leave because he was feeling light headed and because my dick was just too thick for him to take. He'd been taking it like a champ, and really, he'd been enough fun that I could have just let him go without worrying about it (especially given that I'd had two guys before him), but I talked him back onto the bed and asked him whether his light-headedness was from being nervous, and when he said it was, I started playing with his cock, and fifteen minutes later or so, he came all over his chest as I was kissing him and stroking his lubed dick. It was awesome, but I won't ever see him again, probably not even in eight months when his need again overcomes his shame: he drove all the way around the beltway from Northern Virginia, and surely he can enjoy a guilty rendez-vous closer to home next time.


Eight months is such a common response that I hear when I ask someone how long it's been since he got any that I sometimes wonder whether people are making it up. I'm pretty sure that Raul was being honest when he said that. A week or so ago, he and I finally got together after some back and forth on one of the sites where men go to connect with other men in some way that usually involves the removal of clothing. Raul lives with his nieces, and, as far as I can tell, he's both fully closeted and fully gay. Not having had sex with anyone in eight months (unless he said two years, which is another very common response among men who want me to fuck them) made him extremely responsive, and when I picked him up from the Metro station (after much difficulty finding him: he was not able to get to the station nearest me because of a downed wire or some such, and I had to go a few stations away, where the possible places for someone to be were much more plentiful), on the ride back to my house, I stroked his closely cropped hair, and he moaned and sighed like the proverbial man finding water after a stay in the desert. He was equally responsive throughout our very intense session, so I naturally followed up, and he agreed to come over again last night.

Because of where he lives and because of the layout of the Red Line, I suggested that he meet me at my office building and we drive to my place from there. He texted me at the scheduled meeting time to say he was running late, he arrived half an hour late, and then we spent another half-hour in the car with one of my hands lightly stroking various uncovered and covered parts of his anatomy. By the time we got home, I was nearly wild with desire, and after kissing him deeply but briefly, I started him up the stairs, but then I stopped him halfway up by pulling his shorts and briefs down, bending him in half, and burying my tongue in his ass. He moaned and then shouted, and I pretty much lost control: I had my shoes, pants, underwear, and shirt off within thirty seconds, and then I stood up, pushed him down against the stairs, and shoved my cock straight into him. No lube, no condom, and I very likely would have fucked him to completion right there and in record time if he hadn't stopped me because the stairs were hurting his knee, which he'd banged up playing soccer.


I was nonplussed at my inability to control myself, so I took a deep breath and directed him to the bedroom, and we went back to making out. I was keeping myself in check pretty well, but I'd unleashed an equal amount of hunger in him, and his kisses were nearly attacks. Incredibly hot attacks, but still. I shoved his head down to my cock, and he took it all the way down. I pulled his body around and began to eat his ass again, and it was all wild animal sex from there on, though I did get a condom on before I pounded him in various positions. I ended up with him on his stomach, and me jackhammering him until ejaculation was imminent before pulling out, stripping off the condom, and shooting a huge load all up and down his spine. I wiped it off, and we slept, intertwined, for a while before I drove him to the Metro. He was very happy.

Raul seems to want to be a regular, but we'll just have to see how that plays out. I've become aware that my emotions (Let alone my libido, but before the safe-sex police take me into custody, can we acknowledge that nobody's perfect in that area and that limited amounts of risk can sometimes be acceptable, or at least that the occasional slip-up doesn't mean you're evil; my sources inform me that while unprotected topping is significantly less risky than unprotected bottoming, it is not without risk, but of course the risk varies depending on whom you're fucking, and I evaluate Raul to be very low risk. That doesn't mean I'd do the same thing again, it just means that a very occasional lapse doesn't automatically lead to either hell or seroconversion.) are not entirely secure these days. I've been single for a little while now, and while I still am very much not looking for a partner, the idea of meeting someone available, interested, compatible, and irresistible seems not quite unwelcome, even if the likelihood of such an occurrence strikes me as highly remote. The practical upshot of this is a tendency to infer someone's moral, emotional, and intellectual worth from how good of a lay he is.

I am reminded of a passage in a book. I can't remember the title or the author of the book, only that it was a sort of crime novel or murder mystery set in a university in England. And in this book, there was a singularly unpleasant woman who was married to a sad sack academic who had mistaken her for a person of artistic death because of one thing she had said to him. He had met her in some hall or other in the college, and in this room there were many statues of old academics and she had said something very much like, "When no one's looking, do you suppose they dance?" And from this one glimmer, which turned out to be both a rehearsed line and a solitary example, he extrapolated a person who was much more interesting and expansive of spirit than was the woman who'd uttered the line. Similarly, after a particularly good lay, I will often take any little nugget of conversation to indicate someone really worth getting to know on a non-horizontal basis.


Fortunately, I recognize the error for what it is and move on quickly. If there's one word that I'm intimately familiar with, it's "Next!"

Anyway, Raul's moment of depth involved a description of how he enjoys visiting churches and photographing gargoyles. It sounded nice, but it's not much. Fortunately, what he wants from me is mostly physical, and he kisses well and has a great ass.

After Raul left, I had to juggle a bit because there's a recently divorced bottom who lives just down the street from me, and I'd implied that I would probably be able to fuck him late last night. At the same time, OA had been texting me and had said that he wanted to come over. I hadn't heard from OA in a few weeks, and we hadn't hooked up in well over a month. He has a fraternity brother crashing at his (very small) apartment, so he can't host, and the last time I invited him over, he had a family emergency (real or not) come up, and he sort of blew me off, so I was being disciplined and not calling him. It's not as if there aren't other men to play with. It's just that there aren't any men as hot as he is, so when he texted and said he had been unavailable because of his houseguest and told me how much he missed "chillin out" with me, well, I could hardly avoid asking him over. But he only said that he could probably make it, and then I didn't hear from him for a while, and the recently divorced bottom was sounding hornier and hornier, and the FWP that I was developing within walking distance had just ended his lease and moved out of the area, so I really could use another, RC's availability being as limited as ever (though I did finally fuck him, and that was very good indeed), so I told him I should be available later, and then OA finally texted me back to say that he was on his way over, leaving me to apologize to recently divorced, who took it pretty well, all things considered.


The session with OA was hot hot hot, as it always is. He was even more revved up than usual: apparently having a straight frat brother stay at his apartment was seriously keeping him from getting any, and after we went through the usual pleasantries and had chatted for a bit, I pushed him back on the sofa and kissed his soft sweet lips long and deep before taking him upstairs (he's the only guy who follows me up the stairs: I still won't let him fuck me, but I suppose I can give him something) for a couple of hours of amazing sex. It was less urgent and animalistic than was the sex with Raul, but it was certainly no less passionate.

OA worked really hard trying to get me off orally (he says that my cock is the only one he likes to suck: this is likely true since I'm sure he just fucks most other guys after they go down on him), but even if I hadn't cum so forcefully with Raul, he wouldn't have had success. It was an awesome blowjob, though, even without a sticky finale. I went down on him, too, and I was determined to get him to blow a load that way, but he wouldn't let me finish him off. I figured he should be able to cum twice, but he figured it differently and made me stop. Eventually, after back and forth and back and forth and back and forth a few more times even, I was lying on the bed, and he was kneeling over me, and we were kissing, and he was holding our cocks together and stroking them, and he came, hard. And then it was late, so he only collapsed for a couple of minutes before jumping up and leaving. It was well past midnight, so I couldn't blame him, except perhaps for having driven through DC on the way to my place, rather than having taken the beltway, which would have gotten him to me probably half an hour earlier. Anyway, I explained to him the better way back to his place, and he was gone. Who knows when I'll see him again, but that I will see him again is not to be doubted.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Still Plowing Away

My bed, which has been showing signs of weakness ever since I moved it to the new house last fall, finally broke and collapsed a couple of weeks ago while I had pounding some married guy about as hard as I know how to fuck, which is pretty hard. He was asking for more, but I'm not sure what he had in mind was the sound of wood cracking and the much louder sound of wood slats falling through their supports. I put the bed back together, finished him off, sent him on his way, and wondered what to do about my bed.

The odd thing is that that particular encounter had started off as a threeway, but there were only two of us on the bed when it went. The third was Pedro, who had been bugging me for months to arrange another group outing for him. On the one hand, I found his habit of treating me like his cruise director a little bit grating, but he's a reliable and versatile performer, and his particular brand of frottage is rare and especially fun. Or at least it was. Despite repeated texts asking me when there would be more group fun, when married guy asked whether I could arrange a threeway -- something he'd never experienced -- and I relayed the request to Pedro, Pedro said he wanted to play but that I couldn't fuck him because he'd been dating someone. I didn't really care about that, but I was a little miffed when he showed up and said I couldn't kiss him because "I'm dating someone." Still, married guy was upstairs waiting, so I didn't send Pedro on his way. Pedro sent himself on his way about five minutes after he got naked, saying that he was sorry but he didn't feel right about this because he was dating someone. At that point, I had married guy's nipple in my mouth, so I didn't say anything: I just waved goodbye to Pedro as he left the bedroom. Honestly, when I'm sucking or chewing nip, I really don't want to think about anything else, but in retrospect, I think Pedro was something of a tool, though I'm also cognizant of the fact that his desire to remain exclusive is not entirely charmless. I think that someday I wouldn't mind having a relationship where I could say, "Can we see each other exclusively for a few months before we open the relationship?" Don't let anybody tell you that I'm not a romantic.

Anyway, I disassembled the bed, leaving most of it leaning up against the wall, the wrist restraints still dangling from ropes and the bed corners, and I put the platform slats and mattress down on the floor for a while. I found the transition from vertical to horizontal somewhat more awkward with a bed on the floor, but once a guy was down there, fucking him was pretty much the same as it had been fifteen inches higher. Still, I wanted a new bed. I knew it would be irresponsible to buy the pipe bed of my dreams, and I didn't want to buy a bed that I didn't really love, so I decided to build my own. (The relevant phrase, which I read on Apartment Therapy, is something like "Buy things you love, throw junk away, make it yourself.") I did some research and came up with my own very simple plan that reused the platform slats from the last bed. It ended up costing me almost $200, but eighty percent of that was spent on power tools that I can use for other projects and that give me additional butch cred. Not only is the new bed very sturdy (it's basically a bunch of 2x4s bolted together), but I was able to add a couple of special features, most notably eye bolts on the corners and at the center of foot of the bed, to make it easier to tie guys down.

Anyway, I assembled the bed last Monday, but then a combination of kids, car trouble (again), and sundry other mundane tribulations conspired to keep me from field testing it until this weekend. And not even Friday night, when I had a date with RC, though that was certainly plenty of fun. Saturday morning, I had the initial test with a guy whom I managed to bring off through skillful nipple play. It was a very early hook-up, and after he came, I fell asleep for about an hour. He was very cuddly. Later in the day, I had a fun group session where all the other guys were 6'2 or taller, and a couple of them were hefty, so I can conservatively say that the bed has been demonstrated to accommodate 800 pounds, with ease, even if one of them is standing up, causing me to say, "Dude, watch out for the ceiling fan." It was a fun group, but it is maybe not such a great idea to have three bottoms and one top: not one of those guys was about to give up his load before I surrendered mine, and they worked like champions with multiple holes and hands to get it. Also, I wondered whether I shouldn't have built a king-sized bed instead, but oh well. Midday Sunday, another guy showed up. He came without touching himself while he was bouncing up and down on his cock, which is always a good time.

Late Sunday afternoon, I was doing a bit of housework and thinking that there were things that I really ought to get done, but then I thought that all I really wanted to do was play with boys, and I was about to post an ad when I got an email from J. who said that he would be home after 6 and wanted to play. J.'s a guy I hadn't seen for about two years; prior to that, I'd see him about once a year: he'd be blindfolded, and I'd tie him to the bed and edge him for an hour or more. I'd heard from him maybe six months back, and then sporadically thereafter, and he was being weird, even for him, so I'd mostly given up, but when he said he wanted to come over, I said why not. He's a marathoner, and his body looks great when he's tied spread eagle.

We did our usual thing: he texted me when he was nearly at my place, and I unlocked the door and left the room. He came in, stripped to his jeans, put on the blindfold, and said he was ready. I put the wrist restraints on him, marched him upstairs, pulled his jeans down below his fine ass, spanked him a few times, then tied him, face up, to the bed. He's always said that he wanted to spend more than two hours being played with, but he'd never really lasted much longer than an hour before. Last night, though, I had him tied up for just over two hours, and really begging for release, before I made him shoot a load. I decided it wasn't worth being mean to him, though I did stop, when he was very, very close and already begging, to check my email. But he didn't offer his usual annoying and provocative rhetoric, instead telling me what good hands I had. It was weird, but fun. I could not believe so much cum could come from such small balls, but the evidence was on his perfectly flat stomach, the muscles of which come into sharp definition only when ejaculation is imminent. He had arrived at 7:30, and even though it was the longest day of the year, by the time I was ready to let him cum, it was fully dark outside, and I had to switch on a lamp to see the abs going in and out of sharpness. After I'd gotten him off and cleaned him up, I rolled him onto his stomach and gave him a massage. He pulled off the blindfold and nearly fell asleep, and half an hour later, he finally got dress, and we had what seemed like a friendly chat. It was really weird to interact with him when he wasn't being ashamed and dickish, but I can't help feeling that being nice to him means that he won't come back. Which might be a good thing: I can never figure out why I'm willing to put up with his weirdness: there are plenty of other guys with equally great bodies, and most of those guys want to give me blow jobs and ride on my cock. Still, I guess once every year or two, it's an interesting way to spend a couple of hours, and sometimes it's better not to spend too much time asking why.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Ridiculous


I had a great date with Ridiculously Compatible last weekend, and it came not a moment too soon. I hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks because he's never available, and I was beginning to think that he'd lost interest, even though I knew that he hadn't lost interest. In fact, he'd said that he really wanted to see me, in an email about how he was going to be out of town for the weekend and so couldn't see me. And, you know, when I'm with him, he always feels really interested (and really good). But what the mind knows, the body sometimes forgets, and as much as I like and appreciate RC's mind, what I hunger for is his body. I don't think much about him when we're not together, except perhaps to notice, a week or ten days later, that I haven't heard from him, so our interaction is very much about the intense physicality of the moment. I would say that it's very Zen, but I don't really know anywhere near as much as I should about Zen. Can anyone recommend a good comic book?

Anyway, RC emailed (or perhaps texted ... I have consulted my iPhone: both emails and text messages were involved) me late Friday to say that he was available Saturday evening, after all. I replied the next morning that I was free, and he texted me to say that he would happily come to my place at 6:30 to play. I texted him back that he could come to me right then instead, but he, naturally, was on his way to a meeting. Patience is a virtue. Virtue is overrated.


Anyway. By the time RC arrived -- right on time: I love punctuality, except, of course, when I'm having people over for dinner because then it's never ready when I think it's going to be ready, and I'm usually still drying myself off from the shower and getting myself clothed when the appointed hour arrives, which is fine (or maybe more than fine) for a hook-up, but not so great for dinner guests -- I was amazingly horny as a result of having played with three guys between Friday night and Saturday afternoon, all without having shot a load myself. RC appreciates the volcanic ejaculations, though, so that was probably a good thing, but before I forget, let me give you a brief rundown.

Friday evening, I met a very cute, very fit thirty-two-year-old Pinoy virgin who had never had any sexual contact with a man (or a woman, for that matter). He told me that he didn't kiss on the first date, and I said, "How do you know?" I love it when superior logic allows me to suck on the plump lips of a cute guy. As with most first timers, he was plenty nervous, and, as with most first timers, the best plan of attack was to grab him and kiss him the moment he walked in the door, overwhelming him with lust and tumescence before he had too much of a chance to think about it. I had him upstairs and naked very quickly, and then I began to take my time and enjoy his lips and his nips and his abs. He was fairly insecure about his appearance (needlessly so, he really was cute) but he was justifiably proud of his abs. Lots of sit-ups, apparently. One supposes he was sublimating his sexual energy, though he did allow that he jerked off a lot.

J. was a real live wire, and I settled into a rhythm of lightly running my index finger up and down his small cock while sucking on his nipple, teasing him a bit by bringing him to the edge and then letting him slide back. When I took a break from that to wrap him in a bear hug and kiss him some more, he grabbed my cock and started to stroke it, saying that he was worried about being able to take it. I was worried, too. Lots of guys say they won't be able to take my cock and then there asses part like the Red Sea, but this guy was extremely thin with narrow hips. But I told him not to worry about it, and then I rolled him onto his stomach, lay on top of him, sucked on his ear lobe for a minute and then very slowly kissed my way down his spine, pausing as I reached the small of his back to spread his cheeks wide with my hands, then letting the tip of my tongue run down to his asshole. He shuddered, and then he began to moan when I pushed my tongue more firmly against his ass. I kissed his cheeks for a while as I worked one and then two fingers into him, but then he was begging me to fuck him, but also saying that he couldn't take my cock, and I was telling him that two fingers wasn't enough, and he was telling me that I needed a condom on my cock RIGHT NOW, so I handed it to him, slowing him down considerably, but it was still not very long before he was lubing me up and then attempting to sit on my cock.


And let's give him credit for effort. He did, in fact, get the head in, at which point he told me that it hurt but it felt good all at the same time, once again illustrating the fundamental paradox of anal sex (which is sort of like the fundamental theorem of calculus, only very different). I did my best to get him to relax, and I got maybe two inches into him, but then he tensed up again and said he needed a break, and when he got off my cock, he saw a small amount of brown (really, a very small amount of very light brown, which was nonetheless surprising given how clean he'd seemed when I was rimming him) and freaked out. Thank God it wasn't blood, I guess.

Anyway, I calmed him down as best I could, but he was starting to get nervous about being out too late because the family he lives with doesn't like him driving after dark, and I told him that, really, at thirty-two he's entitled to a little bit of liberty, but I also played with his cock and his nipples and got him off and wiped him up and then we cuddled and talked a little bit, and it was very nice in the way that things that are unlikely to be repeated can be very nice. He did email me a day later, and he seemed fine, but he lives in Upper Marlboro, which, for those of you who don't know the area, qualifies as something of a hike. Plus, I reckon he's experiencing that post-first-fuck (or semi-fuck) thing that sweet, inexperienced guys go through. And he didn't actually leave my place until well after dark, so he may be experiencing some adoptive family issues. That whole last part is just too weird for me to contemplate, but he's very sheltered and innocent. How is it that I attract so many sheltered and innocent guys, anyway? Better not to look a gift horse in the mouth on that one, right?


The next morning, not long after RC told me that he was on a train and so could not swing by for an early play session, another young, innocent (twenty-seven, as it happens) guy asked me to come over to his place, but he lived in Northern Virginia, and regular readers will recall that there is only one guy I think is worth going to Northern Virginia for, and this guy was not that guy, so I told him he should come see me, which is always wise if a guy lives in Virginia because then if the hook-up turns into a debacle (always more likely with someone who lives in NoVA), the other guy's the one who's wasted all the time. Besides, I had a lot of cleaning to do.

The guy showed up an hour later, and he, too told me that he did not kiss on the first date. (I know, right? No one ever says that, mostly because I tell them that kissing is de rigueur, and now two guys in two days. It's like an epidemic among our youth. Someone apply for a grant.) He wanted to get right upstairs and immediately naked, and then he wanted to go to the bathroom, which cannot be seen from the bedroom and which has a door that does not easily close (The bottom needs to be planed. That sounds like a sentence that could be a double entendre doesn't it?) but that he nonetheless insisted on closing. Then he came back and asked me to stand at the foot of the bed with him, and I held him close for a minute while he played with my cock. Then he dropped to his knees and began going down on me, and he was pretty good at it, but, naturally, I wanted to make out, and, come on, "I don't kiss on the first date?" I picked him up and laid him down on the bed and lay next to him and began squeezing one of his nipple, and when he gasped, I leaned in and kissed him, and he kissed me back, and, yikes, an obvious smoker. Why does a tall, slender, smooth/shaved, fair-haired young man (he is the exact opposite of RC, but they are both dead sexy; as it happens, RC smokes, but you can't tell from his breath until you've been making out with him for an hour, by which time you're really beyond minding) who is obviously going for (and achieving!) pretty want to go and have smoker's breath? It is to weep.


Anyway. I instead concentrated on his nipples, sucking them until he was moaning and playing with his cock, but that brought him pretty close to the edge very quickly, so he pulled away and started to go down on me again. I let him suck on my cock for a few minutes, but then I told him that I wanted to play with his ass while he was sucking me, and he seemed confused by the concept, only bringing his ass to within arm's length. When I pulled him farther around so that my head was between his knees and began to eat his fine, firm backside, he stopped sucking my cock and gasped. After another minute of that, he pulled off and said that no one had ever done that to him before. Then he said he needed to go to the bathroom again, and I heard the door scraping closed again, and then I heard the shower running, and then he was back in the room, only with his clothes on, and he was apologizing profusely and saying that he never hooks up and mumbling something about Catholic guilt (B16 sure has a lot to answer for, doesn't he?) and apologizing profusely some more. And I was just lying there on my back, with a look of befuddlement on my face and my cock standing straight up in the air, and, well, RC was coming over later in the day, and I had a lot of cleaning to do, and this guy was already doing his own penance, and in situations like this, especially when the guy has acted out of ignorance instead of malice, there is one thing always to keep in mind: he is fighting a great battle. Try saying that the next time someone does something you don't like: he is fighting a great battle.* It works wonders in traffic.

There's this local Latin guy who's also fighting a great battle, and he and I had had this very strange on-again, off-again correspondence since I'd answered his craigslist ad perhaps a month earlier. I figured he was playing with me, especially after he emailed me Friday and accused me of giving him a false address. I have never given anyone a false address, and, indeed, my policy is never to give anyone my address unless I've talked with them on the phone. So I went back through my email correspondence with him (thank God, once again, for gmail) and verified that I had no idea what he was talking about. He eventually said he must have been thinking of someone else (this seemed unlikely) and apologized, but since I had already told him that I was done with email correspondence and had given him my number if he was serious about getting together, I let his apology pass without comment. Then, Friday night after midnight, he emailed me again to say he was back from DC and drunk and wanted to get together and it was too bad that I hadn't responded to his last email. Oh, whatever. Then he sent another email saying he wanted to call me but he was too drunk to come over just then, and, oh whatever-ever-after.


But around one the next day, after the guilt-ridden young'un had departed, he called me, and, hey, I am not one to hold a grudge when a guy finally comes to his senses, provided, of course, that I'm already horny and that the guy in question likes to kiss, and this guy said he liked to kiss, so I told him to come on over. He said he lived about ten minutes away, and he was at my door in fifteen minutes, trying to explain that it's hard to pick my driveway out and that if you miss it, you have to go around a very long block to get back to it, but I was already kissing him, so a lot of that explanation was something that I really just extrapolated from his few pre-osculatory words, with the help of existing knowledge.

As is often the case with Latin men, he had very nice lips. He was about four inches shorter than me, and I stood there, leaning down and kissing him until he abandoned all thoughts of speech, then I turned him around and pushed him towards the stairs. He was wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, so it was pretty easy to just pull the shorts down and then follow the visible butt cleavage up the stairs. I am not a big fan of the flip-flops, but they undeniably speed disrobing, and he was fully naked and stretched out on my bed in nothing float. He'd said he was thirty-six, and I'd guess he was more like forty-two, but he was very cute and smooth, with nice nipples to match his nice lips. I put him right on his back and straddled him, pinning his arms over his head, and he moaned softly as I kissed him, then not-so-softly as I began licking his nipples. I heard "Harder," as I took them between my lips and pulled, so naturally (I am above all a gracious host), I complied and bit down on them. Juan had gone along with the kissing when we started, but after I chewed his nips (not all that hard, really) for a bit, he kissed me back with real hunger, and everything got hotter by a level or two. He'd said he was in a bit of a hurry (having to start his chores, or whatever), but he didn't rush me when we were making out, and he waited until I pushed his head down toward my crotch to go down on me. I just soaked it in for awhile and made appropriately appreciative noises, but I really wanted his ass, so I soon pulled him around, and he did not share the previous guy's reticence.


You know me, readers: time stands still when I'm eating ass (or sucking nip, or kissing), but I'm pretty sure it wasn't as long as it might have been before he was asking me to fuck him, so I handed him a condom and some lube, but he didn't like my lube, so he got up and got his own, and, well, whatever, I was a rock at that point and not much was likely to bother me. He got me sheathed and greased, and he mounted me, facing the other way. I grabbed his hips and eased him down, relatively slowly, but he said he was having trouble, so I told him to face me, and that made things easier. He was tight but by no means impenetrable, and with a little bit of nipple work and one or two strokes of his cock, I soon had all of my cock in him. I grabbed his hands and then lowered him backwards into X position, and he liked that, but when I started to play with his dick, he told me it got him too close, so I told him to lie on his back next to me, and then I got up and grabbed his ankles, pushing them up and back until they were nearly even with his ears, then I lined my cock up with his asshole and slowly, slowly pushed in. His eyes got so big I was afraid they'd explode, and then he just started panting and moaning and "Fuck me!" as I increased speed and pounded him harder and harder. Eventually it was too much for him, and we both wanted a bit of a break, so I pulled out and lay behind him, playing with his nipples. Before long, he was ready to sit on my cock again, bouncing up and down on it for a few minutes and getting ever more excited as I tweaked his nipples and ran my finger over the ridge of his cockhead.

At some point he stopped and said, "You're not even close, are you?" I shrugged, figuring that I could explain the whole thing after I got him off. He said he wanted to feel me cum, but I told him that I was going to make him cum, and he bounced up and down on my cock and I began to jerk his cock rapidly, and his load was shooting on my chest in less than thirty seconds. He collapsed backwards and just lay there for a minute, and then we started chatting, which is always weird but usually good, and he was significantly more articulate than I would have guessed from his emails, which is always good and not weird. I explained that I didn't really need to cum because I'd certainly be cumming later, and that I'd had a great time regardless, and he lay next to me and we kissed a little more and then we discussed real estate prices and he slipped back into his clothes and was soon on his way. He's only in town for a few months, but I reckon I'll hear from him again, though perhaps not for a few weeks. There are some guilt issues there, too, but they are not worth thinking about. He was a lot of fun and he lives nearby, but he's not the kind of guy who's worth missing if he doesn't show up again.

At this point, I would definitely miss RC if he didn't show up again, but I am still (still!) waiting to get into his ass. He was better rested and more energetic than usual (he's always good, though), but he said that he had been to see his dermatologist and that his condition was not contagious but would heal better if he waited another week before getting fucked. Then he told me how much he was looking forward to sitting on my cock, and then I kissed him and sucked on his nipples, and he forgot how to speak again. We were in bed by that point, but we'd started out with a nice session of necking on my new couch.


I reckon we played for ninety minutes in total, at least sixty of which were spent kissing and with me working his nipples. His desire for having his nipples played with is as inexhaustible as my desire for playing with his nipples, so that works out really well. He's also very cock hungry, at least for my cock, and he gives really, truly great head, so I spent a significant amount of time enjoying a really good bj, but I can never do that for too long without wanting to kiss him or play with his nipples. He really, really wanted me to cum, and I was extremely worked up from our session and from the three previous guys, so I was only too happy to gratify his desire. After an hour and a half, we lay next to each other and kissed as I finished myself off. I did my best to keep the cum on him, where he likes it, but I'm always a big shooter, and even more so when I'm worked up like that, so some of my ejaculate did end up on the curtains. Well, they're machine washable.

And then, after some post-ejaculatory cuddling, I asked him whether he'd eaten, and he hadn't (yay!) so we went out for Tex-Mex food, and the food and the conversation were really great. Sex followed by dinner is really the perfect date, especially when the guy's both sexy and intelligent. As it happens, if the guy's both sexy and intelligent, dinner followed by sex doesn't work all that well for me (although it can still be a great time), but that's another story.

Logically, I should be interested in pursuing a relationship with RC (he's smart and stable; he's a good conversationalist; he's kind; he is fighting a great battle; and OMG, the nipples!), yet I'm not, or at least I'm not interested in pursuing any relationship more involved than a friends-with-privileges one. He seems to be on the same page as I am on that score, and I don't know (nor really care) whether that's because his emotional reaction to me is similar to mine to him or just because he's too damned busy to pursue anything more serious. My emotional reaction to him, for the record, is that I like him a whole lot, especially when I'm with him, but I'm not swept away: there is not that sort of inability to keep the lid on my emotions that I believe to be an essential element of love. And in the past, whenever I've fallen in love (not always wisely), I've had that loss of control fairly early on. I know that some people are friends for a long time before they come to love, but it hasn't really worked that way for me. Maybe when I first met RC I was still so recently out of the relationship with b&c that I simply wasn't emotionally available and so missed my window of opportunity, or maybe I need the feeling to be reciprocated for it to exist in the first place (chicken-and-egg much?). Again, I don't know, but then, I have never given the attention to (nor had the success with) love that I have given to desire. This could, I suppose, be seen as a character flaw, but a) I don't see it that way, and b) I'm wise enough to know that it's the sort of thing that can change if the right man comes along at the right time. Not that I'm holding my breath or anything.



*The full quote, translated, apparently, from the Greek is something like, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle." It is often attributed to Plato on the Internet, but my research suggests that it was probably said by Philo of Alexandria.