Inertia; The Italian Job; WTF

So, I was writing this about two or three weeks ago:

I reckon I have in mind some sort of tortured and overused metaphor with the title of this post, but at least I'm not going to start whining about being inert.  Or maybe I am: I guess it depends on the meaning of "inert."  I tend to think of things as being inert when they're stuck in one place, but there are two parts of inertia: an object at rest tends to stay at rest, and an object in motion tends to keep on moving in the same path.  So if over the past however many years, I've spent lots of time ramping up my sex life to the point where I'm fucking someone practically every day (Except, of course, for the days when YFU is over at my place, but, you know, she's 17, and while we still get along as well as we ever have, she really doesn't care if I head out of the house for a couple of hours, as long as the Internet's working, and I hand her a plate of food before I leave.  Besides, if I hang around with her, she's just going to occupy the remote and start watching something on Netflix that I cannot abide [frequently, it's Supernatural, which like most shows of its ilk, I feel would be improved immeasurably if its male leads took the sensible step of wearing Speedos, or perhaps less than that, but until that happens, I just can't], so, truly, everyone's happier if I just step out on those nights.  Or maybe take a long lunch and plow some ass before it's time for her to come over.), does having lots and lots of sex mean that I'm inert?  Ok, probably not, but it's definitely a form of inertia. 

Of course, you can be hyperactive in some areas and a couch potato in others, which is why my lawn is about two weeks overdue for cutting.  I keep meaning to take an evening off and cut the grass (it takes less than half an hour, and the weather's been REMARKABLY un-DC-like this year, so there is some time almost every day that's great for mowing), but then one of my regulars will call or text, and, well, I am not a girl, but if I were a girl, I'd be just a girl who can't say no.

And, hey, it's not like I have sex every day.  Back in July, I took the girls on vacation up to Harpswell, Maine, and what with travel days, there were nine straight days where I didn't fuck anybody.  And we had a terrific time.  (Though, to be honest, it would probably have been an even better time if I'd managed a tryst somewhere in the middle there.  The problem is that the way the geography is up in Harpswell, someone who Grindr or Scruff says is five miles away is likely forty-five minutes off by car.  And most of the people who are even that close are other vacationers who are there with their wives or partners, so they can't host.  But like I said, the vacation was fantastic.)  It was my last chance to spend an extended amount of time with EFU before she headed off to Bolivia to teach elementary school. 

When we got home from vacation, I'd taken the sensible precaution of taking an extra day off of work, so that left me with most of Sunday and all of Monday to make up for lost time.  Which meant that on Tuesday when I finally returned to work, I was both very tired and very happy.


And then a little later, I was writing this:

His name is Bruno.  If you met him and didn't know him, you'd think right away that his name should be Bruno.  Italian, fit, hairy, masculine, and a man of few words.  But plenty of action.  Bruno says a lot more to me via text message than he ever says when he gets to my house, because when he gets to my house, I grab him and shove my tongue in his mouth.  Sure, I do that with every guy who comes over, but with Bruno, there's a sense of urgency.  With other guys, I have chemistry; with Bruno, I have physics.

Bruno's married, and he has a daughter about the same age as my younger daughter, a fact I learned the second or third time he came over, before I realized that he has no real interest in talking to me.  It's not that he doesn't like me, it's just that he's so horny whenever he comes by.  For all his masculinity and wordlessness, he loves making out and we always enjoy a goodbye snog, something most married men go out of their way to avoid when they're done getting fucked.

Bruno doesn't get fucked much, as it happens.  He says once or twice before he met me, and that's not hard to believe because Bruno loves loves loves to suck cock, and he's damned good at it.  But I love love love to eat and fuck ass, and Bruno's coming around to seeing things my way, and he's learning to love love love riding my rod, provided I let him suck it for a while first.  Which I am only too happy to do, naturally.

I kind of love sucking him off, too.  He's got a nice cock, a little shorter than average, but I prefer them that way, especially if they're uncut, and Bruno's got more than his share of foreskin.  If I shove my tongue in between it and his cockhead -- especially while I'm fingering his prostate -- he'll cum pretty quickly.  He usually tries to stop me, and sometimes I let him.

But they're never long sessions.  He's only ever free during the day, so I have to come home from the office, and he's always later than he says he'll be, so he's only in the house for half a hour.  Of course, you can do a lot in half an  hour.  Especially when you've got physics.

The last time he was over, he walked in, and I grabbed him and we were kissing each other like our lust was the only thing keeping the world together, and I don't even know how we managed to get our shirts off over our heads the way our mouths were crushed together, but we did, and I had his pants down, and I was grabbing his cock and running my hand over his fur and twisting his nipple, and then he was on his knees inhaling my dick, and finally I got enough spare room in my brain to realize I needed to move this upstairs, so I let him get four stairs up before I shoved him down and spread his cheeks and rammed my tongue into him while I fondled his nuts.  And I never wanted to stop doing that, but even more than I didn't want to stop doing that, I wanted to start fucking him, so I pushed him the rest of the way upstairs, and when he got to the bed, I pushed his shoulders down so he was bent over, and I stepped up behind him and put my cockhead up against his asshole and leaned in slowly, shoving it up his ass.  And he's really tight, but I was still wet, and his ass was nice and wet, and some forces will not be denied.

I don't remember exactly how long I fucked him, but it was a triumph of the will when I stopped short of losing my load and pulled out and tossed him on the bed, got between his legs, swallowed his cock, and put two fingers against his prostate.  This time I didn't let him stop me.  He doesn't cum a lot, but he cums very loudly.

I was so worked up, and I figured he was spent, so I lay next to him and started stroking myself.  It only took a few seconds before he started kissing me, then he got up and took over the stroking.  I can almost never get off that way, but I was pretty worked up, and when he let a string of saliva fall on my cock, his fist pushed me to ejaculation almost immediately.  I don't cum loudly, but I cum lots.  Lots.

As per usual, once we've cum, Bruno heads to the bathroom for approximately twenty seconds, then he's got his clothes on in another twenty, and then it's "That was hot," (polite lad) and then he's out the door.  Interestingly, for all that I get maybe fifteen words from him while he's at my house, his text messages are complete sentences, full of passion and longing.



And then -- how does this even happen? -- I started dating this guy, and suddenly it's like I'm hardly having sex with anybody.  I met this guy on Squirt, of all places, and his profile made it very, very clear that he's a top, and when he messaged me to see if we could play, I said, "You did read the profile, right?  I am not a bottom." And he said, sure, but he sounded pretty cool, so I said, WTF, come on over.

And it was totally disarming.  He was just not having any of my moves, and he wanted to talk some, and he was entirely charming, and without much kissing or pulling of nipples or anything, somehow we were up in my bed, naked, just touching each other.  It was indescribably nice.  Not so much hot, really, at least not for me, and I was so shocked by the whole turn of events that I wasn't even hard, but really nice.  He was amazed that I was willing to sit there and touch him and let him touch me even though I wasn't hard, and he somehow thought that was the neatest thing ever that I was so unguarded with him.  But, really, I mean, there's a guy in my bed, touching me, and I'm not hard, so am I supposed to freak out or get defensive?  No, I'm just going to go with it and enjoy it.  Apparently, this is not a common reaction to the situation, or so he says.

The whole thing was incredibly intimate.  And not the sort of surrogate intimacy that you get when you hook up.  I don't mean to deny the sort of transactional/transitory intimacy of anonymous and near-anonymous sex.  Because there's something really special about two guys who are both into it going at it like a couple of crazed squirrels.  But this seemed like something more than that.  Maybe it's because some of the blood that usually goes right to my rod was hanging around in my brain.

In any case, he said that he wanted to do that again, and I was all, "Uh huh."  Because, well come on: Squirt?  Not exactly the place where you go to find dates.  And I have a firm policy of never believing anything a guy says to me during or after a hookup.  It's not so much that guys lie (though they do, often and egregiously), but guys mean one thing when they're basking in the afterglow or the pleasure of mutual nudity, and then they often think better of it once their clothes are back on and they're out the door.

And, indeed, when I texted that guy a couple of days later to say that I'd like to see him again, he didn't reply, and I figured it was par for the course.  But then a week or a little more later, I saw him on Squirt again, and I said hi, and he asked if he could see me again and invited me over, and I went over, and it was all very much more of the same.  Except this time I was erect, and he seemed to like that even better, though not enough to, say, go down on me or anything.

And this has been going on for maybe a month now, and it's all very weird to me.  Because there's very little that resembles what I'd call actual sex, though he did spend the night on Sunday, and I was stroking his cock and kissing him in various places after a long session during which I'd blindfolded him, tied him to the bed, and eaten his ass (which, even though he's fifty, no one before me had ever done to him), and he had just told me, before I grabbed his cock that time, that it takes sooooo much to get him to cum, but in fact not long after I started stroking and kissing him, he shuddered, swore, and came, in a way that was neither voluminous nor loud (alas).  But that's the only semen that's been spilled in the six or seven times that we've been together.

But I am still a long, long way from fucking this guy, and I am adamant that he is not fucking me until I've fucked him.  And that's not just me being a jerk or stubborn (mostly), it's really a matter of self-preservation. I'm not entirely averse to the idea of being versatile with this guy.  I have been exclusively a top for a long, long time now (I believe the last time I got fucked was in 2002, when I hadn't been out all that long), but I have often thought that if I met Mr. Right and Mr. Right was versatile, I would learn to take it up the ass and maybe even enjoy it.  But I'm really not interested in casual bottoming.  I'm sure it's something I could learn to do, but I don't want to.  And I know this sounds horribly crass and/or humorous, but seriously: if I start being vers, it dilutes my brand.  There are any number of DC-area bottoms who would lose interest in me if I stopped being a dedicated top.  As it is, there are guys who won't let me fuck them because I occasionally like to suck cock.  So if I'm going to give all that up, I'm going to need a damned good reason.

And I'm not sure this guy is ever going to get there.  There are many, many things that I like (a lot) about this guy, but he has the real sense of sexual entitlement that comes from being a successful DC-area professional with a massive cock.  It's long and it's thick, and it's pretty clear that for years now (he says he was last fucked in 2005, after he divorced his wife, but before he married (and then divorced) his husband.

[Shout out to one of my readers who emailed me with the thing I love most to hear (i.e., that he jerks off to my blog posts) and who asked whether any of the dick pics here are of me.  I would never put any picture of me on this blog (not that I'm not grateful to guys who do: you go!), and I don't really think my cock is all that, but I'll give you some info on it in the context that this guy I'm dating is much larger.  So my cock will get to 7" long if I'm really really worked up, but more typically when it's hard it only gets to about 6.5.  The reason that the bottoms like it is that the circumference is six inches, which would be thick in any case, but mine is wider than usual because if you took a cross section of my shaft (and please don't: I'm using it), it would be much more of an oval than a circle.  So if I've got a guy on his back or on his stomach, when I get about an inch in (because I really don't have a mushroom head to speak of: my cock is shaped like a torpedo that's been somewhat flattened; now there's an attractive image), it really stretches his ass.  Now you know.]

See now, I'm a top, but I work at it.  I kiss like a pro.  I get into lots and lots of foreplay.  I eat ass like one of those guys on "Out of the Wild" who's seeing his first meal in three days.  I'm not the greatest cocksucker in the world, but I've learned to be okay at it and to weave it in and enjoy it.  And I always try to make sure my partner gets an equal (if different) measure of pleasure.  I'm really not entitled (sexually, I mean: I'm a white American male, so in more standard ways, I'm positively dripping with entitlement).  The new guy has never rimmed a guy, kisses passably but doesn't get into just making out, and has no real interest in sucking cock (though, to be fair, he says he likes my cock a whole lot, and he kinda sorta licks at it while he's playing with it -- sometimes).  He's clearly been able to get by on charm (which he has waaaaay too much of) and his massive dick.  And, trust me, in this area there are lots of guys who would totally forgo the charm (and everything else) just to ride that big dick.  But I am not one of them.

And the other thing is, when this guy told me that some day he'd fuck me and I'd love it, and when he agreed that it was only fair that he wait until he was willing to also get fucked, I started thinking about it, and I made some online purchases, and I'm going to practice with lube and toys and get loosened up in case it ever gets to that point.  Because this guy does NOT have what you'd consider a starter dick.  It's a cock for experts.  Of course, my cock's pretty thick, too, and I've fucked my share of virgins who have really enjoyed it, but of course, I was all about the preparation.  When I've been with this guy, and I've eaten his ass for as long as he'll let me (which is really not that long, except for that one time he was tied to my bed) and then put a wet finger a little way up his ass, he's usually responded by trying to take a dry finger and push it into my ass, which is also dry.  And, oh come on, dude.  I know there are bottoms out there literally and figuratively salivating for that monster rod, but seriously?  Think about it.  Some form of lubrication is going to be required if you really want this to be something you enjoy.

And he doesn't like admitting it, but he does enjoy what I do to his ass.  Unfortunately, he's got some really big mental/emotional block about giving over control (which, hey, I totally sympathize with), and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to overcome that, no matter how much this guy likes me.  And he does seem to legitimately like me a whole lot, at least when he's with me.  He's got the other problems that go along with being a successful and driven DC-area professional, mostly meaning that if I don't find some way to get my name on his Outlook reminders, he probably doesn't think about me if I don't call or text him, and I kind of have to fight for his time.  Which is mildly annoying, but a) not really surprising around here, and b) not entirely his fault.

Anyway, probable sexual incompatibilities aside (other than that, Mrs. Kennedy, how did you like Dallas?), this guy's pretty awesome, and I would really like this to work out, and maybe it will, but I'm not assigning a high probability to a great outcome.  He is very sweet when we're together, and after like our fourth horizontal naked session, he asked me if I wanted to be his boyfriend.  Which is kind of weird, but I guess he's very efficient with his use of time.  So I asked what that would entail, and basically at this point it would only entail that I not date other guys.  Meaning that I can still fuck other guys as long as I'm not trying to develop some sort of emotional relationship with them.  And, hell, why not?  I hate dating, anyway, so if I have a nominal bf, then I just won't do something I was doing hardly any of.

The bad thing was that all this warmth and sweetness and intimacy (and, yeah, I know I put all the difficulties up front: life is complicated) is that it's made me somewhat less likely to look for hookups, and what was happening every day is happening a lot less the last couple of weeks.  And that's bad because a) it gives me too much time to think about how little time this guy has free in his schedule, and b) sometimes (like most of the time), I just want to pin someone down on the bed and shove my cock into his ass over and over again until we're both spent and satisfied.

So, I'm just going to do more of that while I see how things play out with the guy.  He shouldn't mind, and if he does mind, then he's not being fair.  And, hey, if he wants me not to fuck other guys, then he can do that pretty simply by letting me fuck him.  I will even reciprocate.


So now you're up to date.  Back to normal tales of sluttishness (and pics) soon, I reckon.