The Neighbors Will Hear

Break-Up Sex

2012-01-23T07:58:00.001-05:00

I'd been dating this guy (aka That Guy) for a little over a year, but that ended -- not, as they say, with a bang but a whimper -- late yesterday morning. I always figure there are two sure ways of getting over a guy: ice cream and other guys. I was out of ice cream, so I posted to craigslist.

I haven't been posting to CL much lately because That Guy had said that if I was going to have sex with other guys (which he wasn't doing), I needed to be discreet to avoid embarrassing him. So I'd cut down on my online presence (and my hook-ups, alas) significantly. I was still fooling around, mostly with guys I'd played with before, but rarely more than once or twice a week.

Anyway, I only had until about 3:30 to play, since the girls were coming over around 4, but I got a live one pretty quickly. He was a smooth, blond sub in his mid-thirties, and he wanted the usual treatment: call him a slut, and he's yours. I let him in the door, closed it, and pushed him against it, took his lower lip between my lips, grabbed his hand and put it on my crotch, grabbed both his nipples, and took his breath away for a bit. I turned him around, pushed him towards the stairs, and grabbed the back of his waistband and pulled his jeans and boxers down over his ass as he walked up.

I bent him over the bed and smacked his ass a few times, then told him to strip. When he was naked, I grabbed his nips and backed him onto the bed, lying on top of him and kissing him while I kept twisting. Then I straddled his chest and started to feed him my cock, but not many guys can really suck cock in that position, and he wasn't one of them, so I pulled him up, lay down, and pushed his head towards my crotch.

The whole thing seemed very driven, so rather than let him just go down on me for a while, I pulled his ass around and started to eat and finger it. He was really tight, and getting two fingers in took a bit of effort, but it was all fun. I told him not to stop sucking me as I reached between us to tweak a nipple.

A few minutes later, he came up for air, and I told him to sit on me. I handed him a condom and the lube, he gloved me up, slicked his ass, and had a seat. Well, tried to have a seat, at first, anyway. Really tight, and it took him a while to open up, but before very long he had managed to pull my whole cock into his ass, and he rode while I played with his dick. He was pretty worked up, and it looked like he might be getting too close to shooting, so I grabbed his thigh and lifted, which he correctly took as a sign to get off my cock, then I put him on his back, bent him in half, and slid back into him. I took it easy for the first few strokes, but I knew he'd love it hard, so I started thrusting away. That's always such a great position: it's very intense for the bottom, it's an easy position for me to fuck really hard in, I never shoot that way, and sometimes the bottom will cum without me even touching his cock. This guy didn't, but he appreciated the hard fuck, and I occasionally got to reach down and pinch his nips.

This guy had said that he liked bondage, but I wasn't really feeling into full-tilt tie down, so I put one of his wrists in one of the restraints that I keep tied to the bed, and that seemed to be enough. The advantage of one wrist only is that I could (and, in fact, did) move him from on his back to on his side to on his belly without untying him. But after that, I did untie him and had him mount me again so that I could jerk him off while he bounced up and down on me. I knew I had another guy coming over in less than an hour, so I didn't really want to cum, and I wasn't so sure I'd be able to pull that off, so to speak, because this guy was really tight, and his ass was really working my cock. But I did make him shoot on my chest before I was on the last leg to orgasm, and I was even able to let him climb off, wipe up, pull off the condom, and stroke me for a while before I stopped him and told him that was enough. Then he got dressed and headed back home to his partner (he didn't say, but I'm pretty sure).

When Brian didn't show at 1:30, I emailed him, and it turned out he'd been waiting for me to contact him again. I'd gotten a text from Ken saying that he'd like to play, and Ken always likes groups, but Brian really didn't seem like the type. I'm usually pretty comfortable with just telling everyone to show up because when I do that one of three things happens: a)somebody doesn't show up (20%), b) one person gets a little freaked out and leaves (5%), or c) the more the merrier (75%). But Ken always takes a little while to arrive, so I told Brian to come on over, and Ken said he could be there by 3 and gone by 3:45, so it all should have worked out.

And it did.

I'd only hooked up with Ken once before, but he it was a real fun time, and he was a real nice guy, so I felt a little sheepish about just grabbing him without chatting on the couch for a bit, but deadlines are deadlines, and once we started kissing in the living room, his reticence to just get into it (which had been palpable on first lip lock) melted pretty quickly. I also pretty quickly got him upstairs and naked, and he said, "Damn, you're horny." I said, "We don't have all that much time, and, yes, I'm definitely horny." I was somewhat gentler and less rushed with Ken than with Sub 1, but most of the same things happened. Ken's a black guy with fabulous lips, so there was more kissing, and he has very reactive nipples, so there was more nip play, and there was not -- alas -- time to eat his ass, so we moved more directly to the fucking, but we did most of the same things in most of the same positions, and in the end, he came (I had him on his back, and jerked him to climax while I latched onto one of his nips), and I didn't. I know that description sounds a little bit dismissive, but it was definitely grrrrreat sex, and I hope that I'll have him again soon for a more protracted session. He lives not far away, but he's still in his bi phase, and it takes a while for the hunger to overcome his reticence. Guys like that can be frustrating, but they're a lot less frustrating when you have a lot of them stored in your contacts list.

Ken showed up a minute or two after 3, and he knew we had a deadline, so he wanted to get right upstairs and undressed. Ken's cute, and he has big soft lips, and a really nice ass, but he's mostly just into frot, and the last time he was over he freaked out a little because he'd started dating someone and was feeling really guilty. He's still dating the same guy, but apparently he's moved past the guilt phase, and we've exchanged a number of texts recently. I reckon he saw the CL ad and contacted me directly.

Anyway, we got right into the kissing and frot, with us alternating who was sucking on whose lower lip and who was on top. And I sometimes worked his nips a little or kissed his neck, but mostly it was just half an hour of naked making out with frot. Or, I guess, from his perspective it was naked frot with making out. Either way, he got increasingly excited from the rubbing of our dicks together, and he eventually shot. Then he said, "We have to get you off," so I sucked on his lips some more, grabbed my cock, jerked for a few minutes, and, well, apparently I hadn't actually cum in a few days because I ended up with semen all over me. But I keep towels by the side of the bed for a reason, right?

Anyway, he was gone by 3:45, and by that time, That Guy was pretty much washed right out of my hair. There's a tiny bit of residual melancholy, but only because I still haven't had any ice cream.

Bits and Bobs

2011-11-13T14:33:00.000-05:00

Well, let's call him Bob, anyway. I didn't bother to learn his name the first time we hooked up, and that was two or three years ago. I reckon I've fucked him about ten times since then, and he's reliably a two-star lay, but he was on fire yesterday. He'd gotten in touch with me online about ten days earlier, and I'd planned to go over to his place a week earlier, but it didn't pan out for a reason that I can't remember but that was my fault. Anyway, when I got there, he had to come downstairs to let me in, and the elevator had been commandeered by someone moving in (or perhaps out), so we walked up to his fifth floor condo. Nice view. Of his ass, I mean.

Inside his condo, when I began kissing him, he responded with unusual vigor, and it was a very fun time. I figured that he hadn't had sex (or at least cock) in quite some time. We made out in the hallway for a few minutes, and I went at his nips for a while before I pushed him along into the bedroom. As usual, he said nothing. He's very much the strong, silent type (he's a truck driver for a local construction company), but I learned that I can get a little noise out of him by kissing, sucking, and biting the side of his neck, just under his jaw line. He was still dead silent when I fucked him, but that didn't happen for half an hour. I don't usually get nearly so much foreplay out of him, and I wondered idly, as he was going down on me, and I was fingering his ass, whether he was going for a third star. Which is a little silly, really, since it's not like I'm publishing some sort of Guide Michelin of bottoms and by giving me better head and/or ass he'd be increasing the flow of tops to his establishment. I rather doubt that he plays with any other guys. He always claims to be single (divorced) and that the woman who lives with him is just a roommate, but her blouses were on hangers on the bedroom doorknob, the decor in his room is decidedly feminine (and he is decidedly not), and when he said "Go easy" and I asked him for some lube, he fetched it from the top of a very tall dresser, where it was hidden behind some scrollwork. The copy of Ladies Home Journal on the bed stand was also a clue.

Anyway, I don't really care if he has a live in girlfriend as long as she doesn't walk in on us (We can discuss another time whether a shriekingly angry girlfriend or one who wants to join in is more horrific.), and it was a fun hour to cap off the weekend's sex. The jury's still out on the final rating, but it's a good one.

The recent -- and nearly full-time -- return to the nest of my oldest daughter has definitely meant a reduction in the frequency of my sexual exploits (I still go see the current bf one or two times a week, but I think that particular relationship has an expiration date on it), but she spends the odd weekend and evening at her mom's, and she usually tells me in advance when she's going to do that, so I try to cram in as much sex as possible during that time. So, for example, on Friday night, I was juggling the responses to a craigslist ad when I got an email from Mike saying that he'd had his root canal, and that he was very horny (no sex since we'd played before he'd gone to California for a week with his family) but couldn't kiss. At almost exactly the same time, a text from BLABS (built like a brick shithouse) informed me that he "need[ed] cock." So I emailed Mike that I'd be available later, and I texted BLABS to come over. He lives no more than a mile away, and he said he was just out of the shower and then would be on his way, but when there was a knock on my door five minutes later, it was Mike.

Mike's a twenty-something Chinese top who (when he hasn't had a root canal) kisses pretty well after he's warmed up, but who I play with mostly because he's too cute not to. He works in his family's restaurant business and lives at home, so he doesn't have a lot of opportunities to play, and he's not very experienced, but he has nice lips, and he's friendly, and he's oh so reactive when I suck his nipples or eat his ass.

Anyway, I was expecting BLABS momentarily, and Mike's expressed some interest in a threeway, but BLABS and Mike would be a laughable combo, so I just gave Mike a quick hug and began to suck on his nipple and stuck my hand down the back of his jeans and squeezed. Then I unbuttoned the jeans, got on my knees and began to suck on his cute, little cock. (His cock, in fact, is so cute and so little that I let him fuck me once because a) it isn't long enough to penetrate, and b) it gets him so worked up that he comes in, no lie, twenty seconds. He insisted on wearing a condom, and the only ones available were my Magnums, and, well, it was pretty funny, but he really liked it. He whispered "I love you" when he came. He really is cute.) I reached up and tweaked his nips a bit, then I turned him around, bent him over the couch, and ate his ass for maybe thirty seconds before I stood him back up, turned him around, took his cock in my mouth, stuck my thumb into his ass, and sucked for another minute, which includes the time it took to swallow. I hugged him again, and he left. I told him next time would be longer.

BLABS showed up a few minutes later, and, well, usually BLABS is leaving about five minutes after he arrives because he's often over in the middle of the night, after having snuck out of his bed, and he wants to be back before his girlfriend notices that he's missing. This time, apparently, his girlfriend was out for a while because we actually made out at the door for nearly a full minute before he started up the stairs. As will always happen when he's here, I only let him get a few steps up before I grab the back of his waistband and pull both it and him down so that I can eat his ass on the stairway. This got him very heated up, but when I got him upstairs, he went with (some) more kissing instead of immediately trying to sit on my cock. He even went down on me for a while. Which, to be fair, he usually does, but only long enough for me to shove my tongue up his ass to loosen him a little.

No, this time he was downright leisurely, and he probably had probably been inside the house for seven -- or possibly even eight! -- minutes before he decided that he needed to be sitting on my cock. Typically, he rides the cock for no more than forty-five seconds before he's nutting and then dressing and leaving, but this time he rode for a couple of minutes and then I pushed him down on his stomach and gave him a solid three minutes of deep dicking.

Sadly, when I went to put him on his back and shove his ankles behind his ears, I discovered the signs of some gastrointestinal distress. It is not in my nature to panic at such occurrences, so I just shepherded him into the shower, and after a minute of soap and water, I continued fucking him in there. I am not so much into fucking in the shower, though, so after I'd made my point, I guess, I got out of the shower and waited for him in bed (which I'd changed). He came in with a towel wrapped around his waist, and, boy howdy, that is a sight to behold. It's kind of why I put up with his, um, accelerated style of hooking up. That and the fact that five minutes is not that much of my time that I miss giving it to anybody.

BLABS said that his GI symptoms were continuing and that we'd have to resume on another occasion. I shrugged and took the sheets downstairs to the washer.

I had two different Latino bottoms scheduled for slightly later in the evening, and although I tried to get them to be there separately, they both came at about the same time. Fortunately, neither of them minded the other's presence in the least, and since I had sufficient stamina and turgidity to fuck a load out of each of them, they both had a great time. As did I, though I didn't spill any of my own seed. I saved that for the midnight round, when yet another Latino bottom, this one in his early twenties, showed up and went down. On me, naturally. I tried making out with him and a few other things, but he insisted that he was on a tight schedule and needed to start sucking my cock right away. Oddly enough, he didn't complain when it took forty minutes of a very wet, very skillful blowjob before I finally took pity on him and took matters into my own hand. A minute or so later I put matters back into his hands, just in time for me to blow an immense load all over his face. He seemed very grateful. Also unwilling to stop sucking my cock, even after I'd shot the load. I began to feel a little uncomfortable, or at least my cock did, but after another couple of minutes, he got dressed and headed out. I went to sleep. All in all, a pretty good Friday night.

Merely Stating the Obvious

2011-07-28T06:30:00.000-04:00

I was wiping the cum (his own) off a guy's stomach after a pretty good session the other day. He'd been a quietly submissive bottom, and after I'd had him face down on the mattress, fucking him hard and alternately biting his shoulder and talking dirty in his ear (not really my forte, but if you're fucking a guy hard enough, he certainly doesn't care about the quality of the chatter, and he probably isn't even hearing the individual words) for ten minutes or so (maybe forty minutes into the session), I'd rolled him onto his back and resumed making out with him while I played with his cock and one nip until he'd shot. He was a really good kisser despite having unimpressive white boy lips (The other evening, I was over at That Guy's place, and he asked me what I liked best about him, and I said his fire. Then he said what he liked best about me was my lips. I have mixed feelings about being liked primarily for any of my body parts, but I am forced to acknowledge that you would be hard pressed to find a better combination of plumpness and skill in the lips of a white guy.), and if his nips weren't all that, well, nobody's perfect, right?

Anyway, as I was wiping, I said, "So you're married, right?"

He looked nonplussed for a moment, but then regained equilibrium and said, "Yeah, how did you know?"

I just laughed for a second and then said, "Dude. You're from Germantown. You kiss well. You love getting fucked. You were wearing an ESPN t-shirt when you got here. You drove up in an SUV. I didn't have to be Sherlock to call that one."

He just laughed. Next time he wants to be tied down. I'm game, but with gas prices what they are, he'd probably save a lot of money if he just bought some rope and a strap-on for his wife to use.

In answer to a question from Will in a recent comment, my bed's doing just fine these days. After the last collapse, I decided to balance it on two high-backed Ikea dining chairs at the head and three cheap Ikea stools at the foot. I didn't think this would work as a long-term solution, due to possible sliding during heavy-duty usage, but it's been great. The mattress still slides across the deck a bit, since there are no sides to the platform, and I should probably fix that sometime, but it's very sturdy, and the deck itself doesn't move.

New York Minute

2011-07-25T01:50:00.000-04:00

Honestly, I started this post a while back, probably right after I got back from NYC, mostly just to remember the various guys I hooked up with on my less-than-forty-eight-hour trip there. Sexual memory is an odd thing: I probably wouldn't recognize half of those guys if I saw them on the street tomorrow, but the one-sentence thumbnails that I left here were enough to bring back the men, if not all the details of the encounters. The details, as I've said before, kind of bleed into one another anyway, since you do pretty much the same things (or at least you choose elements from the same limited set) with almost every guy you're with. Anyway, here's the rest of the post, with the now-somewhat-fleshed-out descriptions.

This past tax season was something of a bruiser, and -- due to the vagaries of Federal tax law and DC's insistence on having a holiday on April 15th -- what should have been a three-day weekend off turned into my having to go to the office on Monday the 18th. Such is life. I would have liked to take the rest of the week off, but I had to be back in the office Thursday morning for an IRS audit. That gave me Monday evening, all day Tuesday, and Wednesday morning to enjoy NYC. Sadly, the usual 4 - 4.5 hour bus took 6.5 hours, so I had less of the evening than I wanted. But I also had my iPhone and Craigslist, so in addition to some good food, a little shopping, and a half-price ticket to Priscilla: Queen of the Desert (something of a guilty pleasure, but ultimately a thumbs down: see another show), I managed to hook up with seven guys in something less than forty-eight hours. Nothing like a record, but not bad, I guess. Also, I got a 3.5-star hotel room for two nights for less than $300 total, including fees and taxes. I had to stay in what is apparently known as the FiDi, but being right next to the World Trade Center site was kind of cool, and the boys in NYC are apparently used to taking cabs to hook-ups.

1. Slender, youngish mixed race guy. He seemed a bit nervous when he arrived, but he very quickly got comfortable. Nice lips, good kisser, loved bouncing up and down on my cock. In what was to become something of a theme, he was in my room for less than half an hour and then blamed me for being too skilled for him to hold back his orgasm. It seems that almost all New Yorkers are hurried, nervous, and a bit disillusioned. But they're fun in the sack, and since I had guy 2 lined up, it was no big deal sending guy 1 on his way after thirty minutes.

2. Blue collar guy who spent the night. You know I joke about being a sexual missionary to the inexperienced masses, but sometimes it really seems to be the case. I got a response from a guy who said that he was in a bar in Chelsea and wanted to come by later, and then I didn't hear back after my reply, and then, apparently, he got drunker, and he said he wanted to come over. The young, inexperienced, and drunk often have limited sexual utility, but they are often otherwise amusing. Also cute. This particular guy was more handsome than cute, but that works, too, and the straight-out-of-All-in-the-Family New Yawk accent is a fun thing. I wish I remembered the details better, but I do know that I fucked him twice, and that between fucks we went to a bar near the hotel that apparently caters to blue collar types. How else can you explain having four beers for less than thirty bucks in Manhattan? I had to kick him out a little on the early side the next morning, but I think he had to get to work anyway.

3. Married marketing guy. You gotta love a fit handsome guy who gets all the way to his fifties without having more than one or two experiences with men. These guys are typically very outgoing in their professional lives, but shy and sweet when they finally overcome their inhibitions enough to want some man-to-man and you happen to be the other man in the right place at the right time. Anyway, this guy was a great kisser, and he loved what I did to his nipples and his ass. He wouldn't let me fuck him, but, well, I was already on pace to go through my supply of condoms, and I still wanted to see some of the city outside my hotel room. He put a lot of effort into not coming right away, but he was only successful for half an hour. Again, I was told I was too good for him to hold back. Again: whatever. I still exchange the occasional email with this guy, so if I'm back in the city alone again, I might have him, again, on his way to the office. Le yum.

4. Italian advertising guy. I had this guy for a nooner after I'd been out walking across the lower part of the city to get some tickets for a show and score some very good falafel. He worked at a midtown advertising agency of some sort, and he'd put the sort of effort into his appearance that you'd expect from an Italian in advertising. His clothing didn't do much for me, but he looked pretty good naked. He also came in just under half an hour, but he wasn't trying to hold anything back. I suspect all of his hookups are like that. Anyway, he had a very responsive ass, and I had my tongue and then cock up it, and by this time I was used to the fast pace, so it was all good.

5. Mr. Nips. This guy was also in his fifties, with lots of ink and metal, and he really loved loved loved having his nips worked hard. They were both pierced, and when I had him on his back with my cock slamming into him, he came when I tugged hard on both of them, which, unsurprisingly, happened about half an hour in. He said that he never shoots that quickly but that I was just too damned good with his nipples. Do you think these guys get together and coordinate their scripts? Anyway, y'all know how much I love nips, so it was a very hot half hour. Sadly, he later texted me to tell me what a great job I'd done on his nips, and I apparently ruined things by saying "Who is this?" In my defense, the number of guys who tell me that I've done a great job on their nips is a relatively large number, and I can't be expected to recognize all of the NY area exchanges, can I? Oops.

6. Indian dude who wanted to be racially degraded. Oh, dude, there are limits. I will chew on your nips and pin you down and pretend that I'm forcing you to shove your tongue in my mouth. I will eat your very hot ass while you go down on me, and I will then pin you down and rub my cock against yours when you claim that you are really a top. I will eat your pits and eat your ass some more while you jerk a healthy load onto my chest, and I will even accede to your demands that I pump a load onto your chest. But I will not call you a "sand n*****." He sure was pretty, though.

7. Short, uber-hairy dude. This guy tried to get to me early in my stay, but I was fucking someone else, and then I told him I was free, but he was stuck at a Seder or something, and I thought we probably wouldn't ever hook up, but he wanted it very badly, and he was pretty much worth the wait. Compact lean guys always get my motor going, whether they're smooth or hairy, but I'd done a lot of smooth on this trip, and sometimes it's fun to have to search for the nipples with your tongue so that you can clamp down on them to make the bottom throw his head back and pant. He actually had a full forty-five minutes to give me, so by NYC standards it was quite the leisurely fuck. Well, to the extent that having a guy bounce up and down on my cock faster and faster while I fist his cock until he shoots all over me can be considered leisurely. He had exceptionally attractive lips, and he knew what to do with them (i.e., he lay back and let me suck on them while he sighed and made lots of precum). It's always nice to end with a live wire.

Still Kicking

2011-07-14T18:00:00.003-04:00

So, yeah, I haven't posted here in a while, and I don't really have any compelling reasons for the silence. Non-compelling reasons include the following:

1. It seems like it's harder to swipe pictures off flickr these days. I mean, I get the whole intellectual property thing, but it's not like I was making money from using those pictures. Also, it's probably still possible, so that probably boils down to:

2. Laziness. You'll note the lack of pics in this post. Sorry. I like them, too.

3. I really like writing about my sex life, but after a while it started to seem like all my sex sounded the same. You'll notice that about both fictional (which mine is not) and non-fictional (which mine is) pornography in general, I think, and it kind of makes sense. If you find practices that reliably give you great joy no matter how many times you do them (I'm guessing at this point that I've eaten a couple of hundred different asses over the past nine or ten years, and the two I ate on Tuesday were every bit as good as the ones I ate when I was first starting out. Not that they're all that great, but a good ass is timeless.), then you're going to keep doing them, right? I mean the Hare Krishnas don't get up some days and say, "Hey, let's chant the preamble to the Constitution today for a change of pace!" Or at least I presume they don't. Anyway, I don't generally find good sex in any way monotonous, and when I do, it just means that it's time to fuck someone else for a session or two. Which reminds me:

4. I've been dating the same guy since November, and he's been taking up a fair amount of my time. And I don't really want to write about my sex life with him, just because I'm pretty sure he'd see that as a betrayal and tacky. Mostly tacky. I will mention, though, that this guy (whom I generally refer to as That Guy) has been warning me since about the second date (Which, arguably, could be the third date since apparently he and I hooked up about three years ago when I was still living with b&c; when we met again this past November, I remembered him, but I didn't actually remember the sex. Oops.) that if things between us progressed to a certain point, then he would demand exclusivity. I am extremely ambivalent about this notion of exclusivity. On the one hand, That Guy is the bomb. He's extraordinarily attractive, and I sometimes refer to him as Catnip just because when I'm in his presence I almost invariably feel intoxicated (and not just because he's always plying me with cocktails and I'm not much of a drinker). On the other hand: exclusive, really? I just honestly don't see the point of it. But it's very clear that That Guy sees the point and that it's very important to him. Or that it would become very important to him at some point. He and I have very different views of sexuality. I would characterize his position as more stereotypically feminine. He has not, for instance, had sex with anyone else since we started dating. I had been pretty sure of this fact (without wanting to bring it up because I just don't want to encourage him to utter the E-word) since about a month into dating him, but he told me so explicitly a couple of weeks ago. Also, he has a slower arousal response than most guys, including -- especially -- me. By which I mean that for the first couple of months we were dating, it was sometimes difficult to get him to bed, presumably because he wasn't emotionally invested. Now if I'm over at his place on a weeknight, I'm lucky if I can get out of there at 11 (having arrived at 8) and without fucking a third (or possibly fourth; I lose track sometimes) load out of him. Anyway, we've always gotten along terrifically out of the sack, and the sex has been getting better and better (two or three months ago I'd have said that I'd never agree to an exclusive arrangement just because the sex wasn't all that), and I do find it very hard to say no to any bottom who knows nine languages, so we'll just have to see how that goes.

But the exclusivity thing -- if it ever arrives -- is clearly in the future, so I've continued to be fairly active, sort of like I'm having a clearance sale. Everything must go! So, for example, when I took my post-busy season quickie trip to NYC, I was in the city for less than forty-eight hours and had seven different guys, a couple of which weren't even quickies. (I have noticed, however, that NYC guys are on a much faster pace in all areas. At least five of those guys told me that they didn't usually come that fast but that they did because I was just so hot. Oh, puh-leeeze. I think even the guy who spent the night used that line on me. Twice.)

A more recent example: I believe it was this past Monday night. I had just gotten home and was doing a couple of household chores before heading over to That Guy's house for the evening, and I got a text message from David, an extraordinarily cute twenty-something Chinese-born local resident. He wanted to play, and I told him, sure, but it'd have to be a quickie because I needed to leave for That Guy's house by 7:30, and he said he would wait for later in the week, and I said, "Are you sure? You can have a lot of fun in twenty minutes," and he said he'd come over.

David, frankly, is not that great in the sack, in part because he's very inexperienced, and in part because he's convinced that he's a top. I have not yet had time to disabuse him of that notion, so while he occasionally will play with my cock as a matter of curiosity and/or jealousy (his own cock is quite small), he doesn't go down on it, and I don't get to fuck him. On the plus side, though, his body is pretty much a live wire, and the fact that his experience is mostly confined to drunken furtive fucks at the end of parties that he attends with his cousins (who -- he says -- don't know he's gay) means that he really appreciates (loudly) my experience, skills, and full range of bodily stimulation. Also, he has nice lips and kisses well. And, of course, there's that extraordinarily cute thing. But he never stays for a second orgasm, even though he's in his mid-twenties, and he doesn't make any real effort to get me off, so half an hour of him is usually just about the right amount of time, and twenty minutes is plenty.

In this particular case, I started eating his ass on the stairway up to the bedroom, and he started moaning. I moved him to the bedroom, finished undressing him, and put him down on the bed, where I went after his small but very sensitive nipples. We made out briefly, and then I had him sit on my face. I continued to run my fingertips lightly along the sensitive parts (i.e., all) of his body, while I shoved my tongue deeply into him. Vocal writhing ensued. Eventually, I shoved my thumb into his ass and banged it hard against his prostate while I sucked on his cock. He got louder. A minute later, I swallowed his load. Small but sweet, kind of like his cock -- and him. I was still, mostly, in my work clothes. We chatted for a bit, I saw him out, and then I showered and headed off for a significantly more adult interaction with That Guy. David is a lot of fun in his way, but he's very much an amuse bouche. With time, he might progress to an appetizer or maybe a pasta course, but every time he comes over, I figure it might very well be the last, and I won't especially mind.

Another One Bites the Dust

2010-12-04T12:31:00.000-05:00

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.

VPD

2010-09-30T16:02:00.000-04:00

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.

The Post-Coital Book Club

2010-09-07T19:58:00.001-04:00

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.

The Last Hurrah

2010-08-24T21:58:00.000-04:00

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.

Leo

2010-08-14T10:21:00.000-04:00

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.

Rubbed

2010-08-09T01:11:00.000-04:00

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.

The Men Who Don't Get Any

2010-08-04T23:34:00.000-04:00

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.

Still Plowing Away

2010-06-21T09:48:00.004-04:00

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.

Ridiculous

2010-05-27T12:22:00.011-04:00

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.

Pretty

2010-05-10T07:49:00.000-04:00

A few evenings ago, I was lying in post-ejaculatory repose in OA's bed, watching him buzz about his bedroom in post-ejaculatory non-repose and explain to me about how his old friends who still live in the hood will never get out of the hood because they have only three kinds of role models -- NBA players, drug dealers, and rappers -- and these three sets of people are really all the same because each of them wants to be the other two. He explained it to me in great detail, which I can't remember at all now, and it all made sense while he was saying it: it was very like having the best seats imaginable for an August Wilson play.

The sex had been very good, too, of course, leaving me to wonder yet again whether a) the inevitable tension between two tops creates the best sex or b) I'm just besotted with his body and skills. I'm not sure it matters. It was his fantastic body that got me in trouble a minute or two later when he stood up to do something (the boy knows two speeds: full and asleep), and I said aloud how pretty he is.

In an unrelated but related matter, I recently spent about four hours proofreading EFU's thesis, and most of my criticisms had to do with word choice. Apparently, pretty is a bad one.

OA launched into a long explanation of why he hates being called pretty, and then we went through a series of other words that he doesn't like, and I think the only thing he agreed to was "handsome," though in retrospect, I didn't bother pitching either "hot" or "sexy," both of which are probably acceptable. OA wasn't angry at me: he was mostly just rolling his eyes at what he considers my rhetorical excess. I, in turn, was rolling my eyes at his horror of anything that smacks of femininity.

In fact, I hadn't heard from OA in about ten days before Monday. The last time I'd texted him, he'd said he'd be out of town for the weekend, and when I didn't hear from him the following weekend, I figured he'd lost interest when I hadn't been forthcoming with the bottoming thing. But then he texted me and asked how I was, and I replied, and he mentioned how much he'd like to get into my ass, and I said that I liked him and we had great chemistry but we could have great chemistry without ass fucking, and he said it wasn't the same thing, and I told him that the white bottoms with ample backsides who'd be thrilled to bottom for him were legion, and he told me that he liked me because I was "all man," and I thought, but didn't text, that maybe he wouldn't think that if I bottomed for him, and I asked him if he was free, and he said when, and at seven, I was pulling up to his place, and then two hours later, I was calling him pretty, and I guess I won't do that again.

I told OA that he was overly concerned with appearing non-feminine, and he said, "You're probably right," and I said, "Probably?" and he said, "Yeah, probably," and then I kissed him, and he made fun of me for liking to kiss so much, and I told him he shouldn't have such soft, fat lips if he didn't want them to be kissed, and he smiled, and I told him that he should really just understand that if I call him pretty, which I guess I won't do again anyway, it's just a compliment. When he started back in on the connotations, I told him that any word you use to describe someone carries another side: a primarily complimentary word carries a dark side; a primarily insulting word carries some positive connotations. I explained that when I said cute, I was focusing on the physical attractiveness; he told me he was focusing on the adolescent connotations. Then I told him that "adolescent" was also a mixed word: he was focusing on the immaturity side, but there was also the youthful energy side, but he, having never once in his life lacked youthful energy, couldn't quite get there.

And then he had to do laundry, so I got dressed and kissed him goodbye. I sure hope OA is a wave I can ride for a long time, but then again, when I thought he'd lost interest, I wasn't particularly upset. Too many fish in the sea, I reckon.

In point of fact, I have been having rather a good run of luck with attractive Black men lately, and while none of them has quite the combination of charm, energy, intelligence, and cis-positional tension that OA provides, they are all delicious, pretty even, and the rest of them have the virtue of being bottoms.

Ubercute, twenty-fourish Victor appears to have moved on, or perhaps I've moved on: it's not always easy to tell how things whimper out with fuckbuddies. He had encouraged me to call him to get together on a couple of occasions and then blew me off, and I decided that I preferred not to be the one doing the asking any more. I have seen him show up on more sites lately, and there are plenty of people on those sites who must be happy to pursue him and who are more available and closer for booty calls. I am often thwarted by geography, and surely the same thing will happen eventually with Zach, who eventually cannot help failing to appreciate the half-hour it takes to get to me.

For now, though, he doesn't seem to mind the drive, and when he was over last week, I took his usual moderate submission a step farther and buckled the wrist restraints onto him. I have decided to leave the wrist restraints tied to the ropes and the ropes tied to the bed posts on an indefinite basis. It's so much easier, and there are so many guys who accept them without protest. They further excited Zach, who got a little bit loud when I proceeded to put his ankles on either side of his ears and pound. Heaven.

Speaking of loud, I worried about hearing damage when I finally got a return visit from an exceptionally sexy married guy who had been with me a few months earlier. Prior to meeting me, he tended to go two years between hooking up with guys, so I reckon three months is something of a conquest. I also slid his wrists into the restraints and then proceeded to chow down on his nipples, and he began growling into my ear, and the growl grew into something of a shout, but not into a "No" so I just adjusted my position to protect my eardrum and kept chewing. He has a very interesting cock that's thick in the shaft but then much narrower at the base, so it's almost like a fruit on a tree. It's almost always fun to make guys cum when their upper bodies are restrained and they only have legs free to thrash. And it was certainly fun in this case. He had stopped growling by then, and I was kissing him when he shot. Awesome.

Speaking of awesome. In response to a craigslist ad, another drop-dead-gorgeous brick shithouse of a Black guy showed up at my door wearing a t-shirt indicating that he had once wrestled for an Ivy League college. The t-shirt turned out to be authentic, and while he said that it had happened a "long time ago," he appeared to have only improved with age. There had been some delay in communication -- I had thought that he might not be coming -- so he ended up getting to my place late. It was a Saturday night, and he slept over, but as it happened he had an engagement to play the piano for a church service the next morning, so he had to leave early, and there wasn't time for a morning fuck. Which was a shame: he had an ass that wouldn't quit, and he was a great kisser. Also moderately submissive, an educational consultant for the government, a former high school music teacher and choir director, and a really nice guy. Now there's a guy I'd date. Or I would if he weren't geographically and otherwise unavailable. He barely has time to hook up, let alone date. And to be honest, I don't know if he'd be interested if he did have time. Still, he appears interested in hooking up again, so maybe we'll do that again when our schedules align again. In 2012. Oh well.

Speaking of long intervals between drinks, Dennis emailed me in response to a similar ad. He was in Seattle, where he lives with his partner, but he had to come back to the area to attend his father's funeral and clean out his house. He'd lost my email address, but had, apparently, been watching CL, hoping for my ad to appear. He's very happy with his partner, who is a dedicated bottom, but Dennis wants to bottom occasionally (very occasionally), so he was excited about the prospect of playing with me. I was equally excited: I first played with him ten years ago, when he was in college, then I hadn't seen him for years after he moved away, and then we reconnected a few years back. He gets more and more handsome with time, and he's thirty now and has an amazing body. He had expressed some doubt about whether he'd be able to take my cock, but I knew from experience that I could open that ass. It was a very passionate session, and he, too, spent some time in the wrist restraints, though not until he'd gone down on me for an extended period, encouraging me to tell him what a good cocksucker he is.

Not everyone appreciates the restraints, and sometime last week a young (twenty-three or twenty-four, I think) guy whom I saw on one of the hook-up sites came over, and after we'd made out for a long time and I'd fucked him for a similarly long time, I decided to restrain him and get him off. He didn't resist, but I sensed there was an issue, so I asked, "Are these bothering you?" and when he replied, "Kinda," I took them off, then resumed sucking on his nipples and stroking him off until he screamed and came.

Yesterday, I had another hot dark-skinned guy in the same position, though without the restraints, since we were in his bedroom in Rehoboth, he having contacted me on Grindr (I hate that spelling). I had just installed the app, which I had not really expected to yield any results other than unproductive chatting, but this guy turned out to be all that plus a bottle of Tequila. (Speaking figuratively, of course: I am among the very few who go to Rehoboth and don't engage in any significant drinking.) He had a looooong cock, and after we'd made out extensively and I'd chewed his nipples to the point of screaming and tenderness and he'd gone down on me, I put him on his back and chewed his nipples some more while I stroked him until he screamed and screamed some more and then shot a huge load all over his stomach and my face. He was hard again half an hour later when I finally left, but almost immediately after he came, he got up to fetch a towel, and I asked him to either let me use it or find another way to get the cum off my face, so he licked it off. Then we cuddled for as long as he could stay still (not very long) and then he insisted on giving me a massage and then I told him that I really had to get on the road and then we kissed a little more and then there was the looooong cock, all erect again, but I had to leave. He wants to see me again, and I got an email inviting me back for an entire weekend. He's a composer, and he's grrrrrreat! in the sack, but, well, that's a long way to go for a romp, and: traffic. We'll see.

Boys

2010-04-22T08:20:00.000-04:00

In the past, I have almost certainly said, probably in these very pages, that I was not especially pleased with being called "Daddy" or with calling someone else "Boy." I may have attributed this to the fact that there are two people -- who can by no stretch of the imagination be described as boys -- who have biological and emotional reasons to call me Daddy. Or perhaps I was ethically uncomfortable with the inherent inequality in a Daddy-Boy sexual dynamic.

Regardless, time changes things, and one of the few items that I've bothered to learn about myself is that it often takes relatively little time to effect relatively major behavioral changes in the sexual arena. (Unless we're talking about my bottoming, of course, because that still seems not to be happening. Fortunately, OA, who regards my ass the way I regard a plate of perfectly executed gnocchi, told me the other night that lying on my back with his cock in the upper portion of my trouser cleavage [there were no trousers present at the time, unless you count the ones on the floor, however] and moving back and forth until he cums on the small of my back is nearly as good as "the real thing." By the way, I don't want to leave the impression that I would do anything with a plate of perfectly executed gnocchi aside from eat them with great delight. I am not after some sort of [even more] twisted American Pie moment.) And if there are certain indignities associated with aging, and if said indignities are somewhat amplified in the gay community, then there are certainly compensating pleasures, and one of those pleasures is having some cute young thing call you Daddy while you're fucking him.

Another of those pleasures is being able to regard someone who would only be young enough to be your son if you were a truly prodigious heterosexual as a cute young thing. RC, for example, is about eleven months younger than me, but he likes to call me Daddy when I'm working his nipples, and I call him Boy (about which I am admittedly somewhat agnostic, but he really likes it) when I'm pushing his head down on my cock. I am not going to get into an extended commentary on aging in the gay community. It is enough to say that men who think that everything is downhill after thirty-five (or thirty, or twenty-five, or -- indeed -- eighteen) bring themselves enough misery without any piling on from me.

Anyway, on Saturday, I got an email from Pablo, with whom I'd previously hooked up in a hotel in DC when he was in the area for business last summer. Pablo (which is the name he uses in his emails, but is not his real name: he told me his real name some months ago, and I promptly forgot it, and let's just pretend I did that on purpose, ok?) is a cub probably of Irish descent from Vermont. I find him very cutep; I also find all that brownish red hair and pale skin somewhat at odds with the concept of Pablo, but what-the-hell-ever, right? After we played last summer, he emailed me several times for repeat engagements, but always at times that were inconvenient for me (mostly during the work day, sometimes even during tax season), so I'd had to pass. I was free late Saturday afternoon, however, so I told him I'd come to where he was staying. I know that he likes role play and submission, so I suggested that I be a neighbor knocking on his door to complain about his habit of walking around his back yard without any clothing. I further suggested that he answer the door without any clothing. Which he did.

I stepped inside put a finger on his sternum, backed him up against the wall and demanded to know what he thought he was doing walking around naked and don't you know there are children around here, boy? He trembled a little and apologized, and I told him that there were going to be consequences and asked him to show me to the bedroom. I followed him up the stairs, and he really does have a cute ass.

[I spent some time the other day reflecting on the abundance of cute asses in the world, or at least of the large number of cute asses that I come into visual or actual contact with. I attribute this abundance to some combination of ample nutrition and the fact that I'm able to appreciate a fairly wide range of ass types. I came to no conclusions, but it was a pleasant way to spend the first few minutes of a weekend morning, when I was nearly but not quite awake. I am aware that there may also be an abundance of ass-challenged folk, but I tend not to notice the backsides that do not attract me.]

He apologized profusely for his misbehavior, but I opined that he needed to be taught a lesson (one wonders whether it's even possible to have any sort of dom-sub roleplay that does not involve the phrase "you need to be taught a lesson, boy") and then I told him to bend over the bed, and I withdrew my belt from its loops and I began to spank him. I stopped momentarily to pass the looped belt between his legs and tug on the hard-on I knew I'd find there. Then I spanked him some more, prompting him until he was reliably saying, "Thank you, sir, may I have another?" after each thwack.

And then, as is de rigueur in these situations, I adopted a kindlier tone and asked whether he'd been walking naked in the back yard to attract my attention, but he only got about halfway through his reply because I had dropped to my knees from where I was able to spread his asscheeks wide and begin tounguing his asshole, which appeared to distract him from what he'd been saying. I stood up, turned him around, pulled him to me, kissed him hard, then threw him back onto the bed, climbed atop him and began kissing him -- less hard, more deep. And then I went for the nipples because, well, when don't I go for the nipples? I grabbed his wrists and held them over his head and went after the pits, which drove him just the right amount of nuts, and then I rolled him on top of me and squeezed hard on his rib cage while we kissed some more. He would have purred if he knew how, I'm sure.

I loosened my hold on him, and that was a clear invitation for him to go down on me. He made the requisite noises about the thickness of my cock, and I grabbed his hair and pushed him down on it.

You know, sometimes I think we don't take enough time to appreciate just how good a thing a competent blowjob is. Pablo is definitely a competent cocksucker, so I took several moments to lie back and enjoy what he was doing. I even voiced my approval, and he talked more about the thickness of my cock and how he let the delivery guy fuck him, but the delivery guy's cock wasn't nearly as big as mine, and, oh yeah, we're still doing roleplay. I had half hoped that we'd moved on to the mostly-unspeaking-intense-sexplay-where-both-our-mouths-are-busy part, but we hadn't so I said that I hadn't really noticed since when the delivery guy came to my house, he mostly just wanted to go down on me and then bend over and take it up the ass. Pablo got even more excited.

We kissed some more, and then he went down on me again while I ate his ass, and he moaned without ever ceasing the very good head, and I complimented his butt again and said that I'd known he was walking around naked for my benefit and that I was going to make it mine, and he gave me the "yes, Daddy" and the "please, Daddy," and pretty soon he was sitting down on it, slowly, asking me to be gentle, and I'm thinking, hey, man, I'm just lying here while you go at your own pace, but I made the usual noises about not wanting to hurt my boy, and, well, he's got a nice tight ass, but it's not as hard for me to get into as he thinks it is. And there's nothing at all wrong with that.

He rode me for a while, and then I put him on his back and rolled his ankles up to his ears and pounded him hard while he moaned happily. I fucked him in a couple of other positions, and then we ended up back with him on top, bouncing up and down as I thrust into him. He said he wanted me to cum, so I told him to work for it, and he squeezed his ass hard while I pulled on his nipples, and I felt the wave building, so I put his hand on his cock, and I had just started to shoot when I felt his ass clamping down hard on my rod as he began to spurt on my chest. He shouted out and then collapsed, his head between my legs, my cock still inside him. We both lay there and panted and smiled for a bit, and then he got up and grabbed a towel and cleaned me off. I got dressed, we chatted for a bit, and then I said goodbye, with a kiss and a swat at his ass.

I decided to take yesterday off, and the original plan was to do some cleaning and other stuff around the house, but I slept until 10:30, and then after folding my laundry (I had a large backup), I decided I was bored enough to play the Craigslist Tango, so I placed an ad. The best response (weekday ads always get huge response: the married guys with flexible schedules swarm out of the woodwork) came from a guy who'd replied to an earlier ad but who had an incompatible schedule, until yesterday. He was thirty and sounded eager to play, and I assumed that he was married. I gave him my number, he called, we talked for a bit, and he headed over from his office, calling once on the way when his navigation software failed him. That's about standard, I find. I was sitting on the couch, reading (Gravity's Rainbow) when he knocked on the door. As is so often the case, he was much cuter than his pictures, which raises the question why does he use those particular pictures, but mostly I'm just pleased when they show up and they're hella cute instead of just cute.

So I'm not really ~~self-absorbed~~ self-knowledgable enough to completely understand the dynamic here, but I was expecting maybe your standard one-star (that was fun; I'd do that again) married guy hook-up, but as soon as I pulled the guy to me to kiss him, it was clear that I was dealing with unreserved passion. And -- let me be clear -- I love unreserved passion, but you don't get it that often, and I hadn't been expecting it, so I found myself recalibrating on the fly throughout the next two hours. Because I'd also expected the standard married guy forty-five minute encounter.

Anyway, this guy was kissing me back with fervor, if not with the unrestrained crazed weasel fierceness that can be a bit much anyway, and responding with the perfect mixture of melting and increased energy when I twisted his nipples or slid my hands down the back of his pants and squeezed. Which I did several times because this guy wasn't getting any less interested in kissing. Yum. I did eventually turn him around and squeeze his ass as he walked up the stairs, where I (Yeah, I know, switch it up sometime, right? But it works so well!) tossed him onto the bed and climbed on him, kissing him for a while longer before I told him that I wanted to get him undressed. We accomplished that together. Cooperation is a good thing.

I just love smooth, slender guys (of almost any age), and if this guy was smooth in part from trimming, well, I love hairy guys just as much anyway, so where was this sentence ever headed? Anyway, in addition to smooth, he was warm, and it was a chilly day yesterday, and he felt really good in my arms as I rolled over and pulled him on top of me. I still had my pajama pants on, and he ground his crotch into mine, smiling at the feel of my very hard cock. He was very hard himself, and he had a pretty nice cock. When I put him back on his side and ran my hand down over it to his balls, I could feel that they were already pulled up tight against his body, which made me think quick married guy again, but the kissing was telling another story. He also responded vocally and positively to my tongue and lips on his nipples, but they were nipples that didn't have the look of worked nipples. It's a shame to leave a natural resource like that undeveloped, so I determined to do what I could with the limited time available to me.

At some point, though, I stopped to kiss him and he rolled back on top of me and took the opportunity to separate me from my pajama pants and then to start going down on me, and, well, I believe I have already made my position on competent blowjobs entirely clear. This was definitely more than competent, and when I made appreciative noises about his cocksucking ability, he thanked me and called me Daddy. Nice.

We went back and forth for a while between the hot kissing and the nipple play and the very good oral sex, and then I pulled his legs around and started to eat his ass while he was going down on me. Both my tongue and my fingers slid easily into it (although it was plenty tight), and I realized this guy probably had more experience than I'd given him credit for, and that's almost always a good thing. I got in deep with the tongue and then with the thumb and then with two and then with three fingers, and it all made him squirm and suck harder, and when I finally pushed his legs away and pulled him around for some more kissing, it was clear that he wanted to sit on it, so I pointed to the table holding the necessary accoutrements and told him to sit on it.

He didn't even give much of a pretense of not being able to take it. Again, he was plenty tight around my cock, but it wasn't that hard and didn't take that long for him to get me all the way inside him, and then he began rocking back and forth, and I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and moved my thumb back and forth over his frenulum, and he shook and bit his lip and then asked me to take my hand away because he really didn't want to cum that soon. It was at this point that my mixed expectation presented in their least elegant manner, and I asked him how long he had, which made him a) say he had "enough time" and b) ask me whether I needed for him to be gone. "Hell no." It was a very brief interval of inelegance, and as it was all accomplished with his cock squeezing my ass, there was no harm done.

Mike (the name he used in email; not his real name, which he did tell me, and which I actually do remember but likely won't by the time it becomes relevant again) leaned forward to kiss me while his ass continued to squeeze my cockhead, and that was hot, hot, hot, and he rode me for a while longer, but I really felt the need to pound him, so I put him on his back and shoved his knees up and entered him and grabbed onto his ankles and pushed them farther back and started to pound, pound, pound, as he began calling out "Fuck me, Daddy," and I pounded harder. Intense.

I pounded him for a while longer, until I felt like taking a break, at which point, I pulled out and lay beside him. He looked slightly confused: "Did you cum?" "Oh. No." "Are you going to cum?" "That is a very good question. I don't know. You're going to cum, though." "I got that impression." And then I kissed him some more until he said that he wanted to suck my cock again, and I laughed, and he looked puzzled again and said, "Does that mean no?" "It means you don't ever really need to ask permission to suck my cock."

So he started going down on me again, at which point it finally occurred to me that I wasn't in the middle of anything that could be described as a quickie, so I let him do that for a while, but when he said he wanted to sit on it again, I instead put him on his side and pushed one leg up since that's the best position from which to fuck while you're kissing, then I pushed back into him and leaned forward and kissed him while I was fucking him. "Oh, thank you, Daddy." Hey, I was just being a good host. Eventually I put him on his stomach and lay on him and fucked him from behind, a position I find highly conducive when I want to give a good rogering, and for a moment, he acted like it might be too much, but he was pretty quickly begging for more, which I was only too happy to give him.

When I was ready for another break (it was clear to me that as pleasant as fucking his ass was, I wasn't going to get off that way on that day), we kissed a little more, and he asked me what other things I liked. What kinks. I started to go through the list, but I only got to bondage because he said, "I like bondage," which caused me to raise an eyebrow and then reach down beside the bed where the leather wrist cuffs were still tied by rope to the corners of the bed from the relatively uninteresting young'un I'd had tied there a few days earlier.

I'm not sure what he was expecting, but once I had him restrained and had kissed him and worked his nipples briefly, I concentrated on his cock. I took the head in my mouth and ran the tip of my tongue slowly over the ridge before flicking it quickly over the frenulum, and he twisted in the restraints and told me that I was driving him crazy. "I know." Then I kissed him some more while I stroked his cock very, very slowly until he warned me to stop, at which point I got back between his legs and started to suck on his balls which nearly made him leap in the restraints before settling into a lasting writhing that got worse when I ran my tongue lightly along the intersection of his torso and thigh.

I don't know how long I had him tied up and kept him on edge, but eventually he said, "I really want to suck your cock again," so I unbuckled the wrist restraints and lay back. We'd been at it for a long while, and I'd gone soft while teasing his cockhead and making him twist in the restraints to avoid shooting, but as soon as he started back with his mouth, I was hard again, and before long, he said he needed to ride me again. Why not? He climbed back atop my cock and sat all the way down. After a bit of rocking and going up and down on it, I told him to give me his hands, and then I lowered him backwards into the X position, which seemed to be something of a revelation for him. I let him do that and groan for a bit, and then I grabbed his cock because I was really ready to see it shoot. And I really only gave it a few strokes before he was suddenly much louder and then sitting up just in time to spray healthy shots of cum all over my chest. He shook all over for a bit and then pulled off me and lay in my arms.

I wiped both of us off and offered him a shower, which he accepted. He returned and as he was getting dressed, we chatted a bit, and it turned out that the weird schedule and the wedding band indicated that he was gay and partnered not so-called straight and married. Well, that explained a whole lot. I walked him downstairs and gave him some directions and then kissed him goodbye and he left. Fifteen minutes later he called to say that he'd forgotten his computer, so I did at least get to see him a second time when he came back to pick it up. This isn't some letter to Penthouse, so we didn't fuck again when he came back: he was running late, and he'd lost valuable commuting time. I just handed him his computer and smiled at him, and he took off for Baltimore and his domestic scene. I smiled more as I showered and got dressed to pick up YFU. So, no much cleaning got done, but at least I got the laundry folded.

Zach Spends the Night

2010-04-15T08:05:00.000-04:00

I was home feeling a bit let down last Saturday night. I'd arranged to go down to Opposites Attract place in DC, and I'd really been looking forward to it. OA is phenomenomally sexy, and I always get to his place, and we start making out, and then he sits down on the couch and starts to go down on me and then he takes me to the bedroom, and fifteen minutes later I find that four hours have passed and he's cum twice, and I'm slightly baked, and where the fuck did all that time go but I most definitely do not want those four hours back, nosiree Bob. Well, except that I wouldn't mind doing the four hours again, but you know what my mean.

Anyway, I was on my way to OA's place Saturday night, and I'd just texted him to let him know that I was running maybe ten minutes behind, when my phone chirped, and there was the dreaded text message:

TED I'm n bmore had a emergency

(sad trombone)

followed by

It will b better tommorow if u can make it or whatever day next week fits ur schedule

And, you know, I was so bummed that I didn't even notice until this very minute that he had misspelled "tomorrow." Also maybe just the tiniest bit peeved because I had only texted him because I was running late. If I hadn't, I'd have gotten down to his marginal NE DC neighborhood and found no one home.

Anyway, I didn't let myself dwell on it. I went home and read for a couple of hours and ate something that would be really bad for me if I weren't on an Atkins diet, which, come to think of it, I'm not, and then I sat down at the computer and played a tower defense game for a bit and noticed that Zach was online, so I sent him an email and soon he was on his way over. Zach is about as sexy as OA: they're both handsome, fit Black men, and if Zach doesn't have OA's incredible muscle definition, he does have a better ass. Also, it's a fuckable ass, whereas OA is always trying to convince me to let him fuck me.

[Long aside alert.] I can't decide what to do about OA. He's so hot and so intriguing and so into me that part of me thinks he might be the guy who could make me enjoy bottoming. And we really (really) don't run in the same circles, so I could maybe try bottoming with him and not let anyone else know so that the guys who are attracted to me because I won't even entertain the notion of bottoming might still want to come over and point their heels to the heavens for me. I very much want to avoid diluting my brand. On the other hand, the idea of bottoming leaves me cold. It doesn't repulse me (though, to be honest, I don't especially fancy the notion of all that extra anal hygiene, which nonetheless doesn't really repulse me either), but it doesn't excite me. And I will not be in any way pushed into it, but OA pushes in a very entertaining and non-coercive way. I reckon that if I stay on the fence about the issue (without letting OA know that I'm on the fence; with him, I maintain a demeanor of full-on hell no) for long enough, he'll get bored, and the issue will go away of its own accord. But he seems very much not bored, and since I didn't jump on Saturday as an excuse to ignore him, it's apparent that I, to, am very much not bored. Time will tell, I suppose.

Anyway, Zach is also sex on wheels, and he's versatile but only a bottom when he's with me, and he's got amazing lips and he likes to make out and, well, he likes to have done to him everything I most like to do to a guy, which is why he was soon knocking on the door and we were standing together in the living/dining room kissing ardently and then I was turning him around and pushing him up the stairs, and I know I always say that I push a guy up the stairs, but this time we only got about five steps up because when I reached to pull his jeans far enough down his ass to see some hot trouser cleavage, I just had to had to had to have it, so I stopped him and reached around and undid his belt and bent him forward and grabbed and spread his cheeks and shoved my tongue up against and then into his tight sweet hole. Dude has ass.

But he's got everything else, too, so I only did that for a couple of minutes before pushing him the rest of the way up the stairs and undressing him and tossing him on the bed and starting to kiss those soft, plump lips. Which I did for a long time because Zach normally shows up really, really late, like 2 am late, and here he was at my place around midnight and not in his usual I-really-only-have-forty-five-minutes hurry, but also because his kissing skills are as good as his equipment. I did, of course, move occasionally to the nipples, which are responsive but have obviously never gotten the attention they deserve, and also to his armpits because the truth universally acknowledged that the one place you can give almost any guy a hickey without worrying about detection is in the armpit is even more apt on a man of color.

Anyway, Zach always gets hungry for cock sooner or later, and if it was later than usual this time, he was certainly no less hungry. It was the standard sequence of events. Boy goes down on boy. Boy kisses boy. Boy chews boy's nipples. Boy goes down on boy again while boy eats boy's ass. Never gets old.

Zach's ass deserves poetry, but I won't subject you to that because I can't write decent poetry. Oh what the hell:

There once was a hot guy named Zach

Yeah, not so much. Anyway, Zach's ass is only nearly perfect because when he's going down on me, it's ever so slightly awkward for me to eat his ass at the same time, though I can certainly do it with a couple of pillows to prop my head up, and I certainly did do it for an extended period, and I certainly hope to get the chance to do it again multiple times. But I couldn't help notice [long aside alert!] that earlier in the week when Ridiculously Compatible and I were on our fifth or sixth date (let's just call them that for the moment) and I finally got him to let me eat his ass while I was going down on him, he was a perfect fit. One pillow, which I like regardless, put my head in the perfect position to eat him while he went down on me, and boy howdy was that nice. The thing is that RC still hasn't let me fuck him, and we had a little talk about that this past week, and he says that he's now comfortable enough with me that I can fuck him, or at least he thinks so, but he's worried that it's been so long and then he's worried about doing it at his place because he's afraid he'll be really loud, and he lives in a townhouse where the walls aren't as soundproof as they ought to be. And he's really a very nice and relatively interesting man with nipples that were clearly designed with my mouth in mind, but he has a sort of intermittent sex drive that's very easily dimmed when he's too tired, and OH MY GOD Y'ALL I'M DATING A WOMAN! Which is weird because he's mostly the bearish sort that would be described as masculine if you were going by his looks and mannerisms.

Anyway, I eat Zach's ass for a while longer, and he goes down on me again, and then I put him on his stomach and eat his ass from an entirely comfortable position until he begs me to fuck him, which happens at just about exactly the right time, and I hand him a condom and some lube and tell him to sit on it, and he does, and he tells me, again, how thick it is, and he's having a little trouble with it, so I put him on his side and enter him that way and then I roll him onto his stomach and pound him for a while like that, and finally I put him on his back and bend him into a pretzel so that I can rain thunder down on his prostate, and I fuck him like that until I can't take it any more and he's calling my name and telling me that he wants me to cum and I do. And how.

And I collapse on top of him to catch my breath and then pull out and kiss him and play with his nipples while he plays with himself and then I push a couple of fingers inside him and massage his prostate while he brings himself off, gasping into my mouth because we're still kissing. I let him recover for a couple of minutes and grab a towel and do some cleaning up and we canoodle for a bit and it becomes clear that he's falling asleep and not particularly interested in leaving, and, well, cool!

And then it's 7 am and I haven't gotten out of bed so there's that awkwardness of trying to kiss without zapping anybody with morning breath, which leads mostly to me sucking on his nipples and playing with his cock until he's hard and then he jerks himself off while I work his nipples a little harder, and he cums again and lies there looking fine for a bit before getting up and getting dressed because he's got to get home to the dog and I've got to get dressed and do all those things that I haven't been doing because I've been working working working all the time time time.

Opposites Attract

2010-03-25T07:48:00.000-04:00

Ridiculously Compatible and I have been having our scheduling difficulties. Normally I'm very sympathetic about that sort of thing, but when a guy who works for the federal government tells me that he can't play because he's just too exhausted by a day of meetings when I'm working 65+ hours/week, well, I have to wonder whether that guy has the stamina it takes to be more than an occasional fuck buddy of mine. I mean, I get how annoying meetings are, but the best cure for that sort of annoyance is to take it out on a well-lubed ass. Maybe bottoms are different, but the whole too-tired-for-sex thing just completely contradicts my world view. I'm just not a too-tired-for-sex kind of guy. I'm more a dude-I-only-got-three-hours-of-sleep-last-night-so-I'm-only-up-for-forty-five-minutes-of-foreplay-and-half-an-hour-of-fucking-sorry-but-I'll-make-it-up-to-you-when-I'm-rested kind of guy.

Anyway, I'm not prepared to say "Next!" just yet because RC's a pretty cool guy when he's available and awake, and given my determination to remain single, it's just as well that a guy isn't too available, so when RC told me he wouldn't be available this past Friday night (dinner with his sponsor, sigh) I took the opportunity to see M. for a late date. M. claims that he's been after me for some time on multiple web sites, and that I had ignored him because he hadn't posted a picture. This really doesn't sound like my M.O.: I try to respond to all reasonable inquiries (i.e., all people who are attractive and/or live within fifty miles: I have given myself permission to delete without response messages from uninteresting men from different time zones), but he may have contacted me on one of those sites where I have a profile but never visit (there are so many), or maybe I just forgot. I dunno. Regardless, he contacted me on a site recently, and I replied, even though I figured it was a waste of time because his ad said he was a top. He gave me his number, and we talked on the phone a few times, and he sounded very attractive, but also very much like a top, and it occurred to me that he had looked at my pictures but perhaps not read all the particulars, especially the particular particular wherein I say that I'm a top, so naturally, I took the bull by the horns and ... texted him.

So after some preliminary exchange of data revealing that we are both, indeed, don't-even-think-about-sticking-that-in-there tops (I am not going to rehash how that makes me a less virtuous/interesting person: I'm over it) he said that he had contacted me because he found me handsome and that I must be something of a slut if I assumed that he was only interested in sex with me and I said so? and he said we should get together for a glass of wine and I said that I would be disappointed if that glass of wine didn't at least lead to some making out and he said that even if there was no making out I would surely not be disappointed and I said that he obviously didn't know how much I liked to kiss. And he laughed (via text, that is), so I suggested getting together a couple of Fridays back, and he didn't reply, and I figured he'd come to his senses. But then I got an email early last week, and when I replied, he asked when we were hanging out, and I replied Friday? and that worked for him.

Of course, I wasn't free until 10 pm, so I really, really hoped I wasn't going all the way to Northeast for a glass of wine and some conversation. And for a while I wasn't sure I was getting even that: when I went to get off 295, the exit on my instructions was closed for construction, and the next/detour exit was a ways down the road, and I really wasn't sure I'd find my way back, but at not much later than 10:15 -- having sent an illegal text message while stuck in a back-up due to entirely different construction -- I got to his place. And it's what you might call a marginal neighborhood. His street looks fine, but you have to drive through some dicey areas to get there, but on the whole it's probably not as bad as where, say, a certain well-known DC blogger lives, so I wasn't concerned.

M. let me into his place, and, well, M. M., as they say, is a puzzlement. First of all, he's gorgeous. He's about 35, Black, tall and skinny (but, as it happens, very defined: he looks like one of those posters of male muscular anatomy; his obliques are especially impressive), and he talks like he's straight from the hood, but he's obviously very intelligent, and his apartment, well, it looks like what you'd get as the winning entry if you took all of the Design Star contestants and set them loose in Ikea with a thousand dollars. It's a seriously gorgeous apartment, and, seriously, almost everything is from Ikea. Except probably the television and the corner unit from a sectional that a friend gave him. And I suppose the giant collage that he made himself out of CD art. (When he was telling me about it, I didn't hear him correctly at first, and when I asked him to repeat himself, he said, "CDs. That's how people used to get their music before there were iPods." And I was all, "Dude. I'm old enough to have had lots of vinyl.") Anyway, it was a very cool place, but obviously the place of someone I have not much in common with: In one room, there was a whole bookshelf of accessories, including perhaps thirty pairs of sunglasses and a lot of bling. In one of his closets, he had perhaps eighty pairs of neatly folded jeans. In another, he had a similar number of shirts hanging up. I stuck my hand into his shirts about eight deep and said, "I have this many shirts, and eighty percent of them are blue."

I was very much out of my element, not least because he wasn't touching me, and he seemed to be avoiding letting me touch him. I think he was making a point, but in any case, we returned to the living room, where we listened to loud music of a sort that I never listen to (I should really know who this Alicia Keys person is, though, right?) and I bummed a hit off his joint and listened to him. It was really very pleasant, and I thought to myself that this was one of those rare (for me) situations where you really have to bide your time wait for the sexual tension to build and build before you get that first kiss and whatever follows it, so I might as well relish it.

M. rolled another joint (In what appeared to be some sort of natural leaf wrapper: I should also know what that is, right? I am really very naive for my age. At least about some things.) and we passed it back and forth, and talked some more about music. He mentioned Gladys Knight, and I said that "Midnight Train to Georgia" is one of the few songs that can cure any sort of bad mood, and he dialed it up on his iPhone, and I reclined on the very roomy sectional and sang along and he laughed at me when I sighed and said, "I should have been a Pip." He got up to refill his drink (Chardonnay mixed with ruby red grapefruit juice. Dude.) and I slid over to the edge of the very room sectional, and when he came back, he sat next to me, and that was certainly one of the best first kisses ever. Great lips, great technique, total desire.

After a while I was lying back and he was lying on top of me, undressing me, and then he was pulling me into the bedroom with my jeans around my ankles and then we were naked in bed, and forty-five minutes of tussling later, he laughed and said, "Battle of the tops!" And it sort of was, but it was very friendly warfare. I'd let him take charge for a while, and then he'd let me take charge for a while. And that was a little bit hard for me to do when he decided he needed me to lie on my stomach so he could play with his ass, but I was very glad I did because after a few minutes of that, I had a number of thoughts which were mainly inchoate but which upon later reflection boiled down to a) this is fun, b) this guy may love ass even more than I do, and c) this guy may be more skilled at ass play than I am. And I really hate that (meaning c), but I also loved that.

We were at it for several hours, and I sort of lost track of the sequence events, but I think he might have come the first time before he played with my ass, and I know that when I went to play with his ass, he jumped up, and I said, "Hey, fair is fair! My turn!" And he said, "Yeah, fair is fair, but clean is clean," and he went to the bathroom and came back and was soaping his ass and bending over the bed and we were kissing and then he returned to the bathroom to rinse and dry and then he came back and let me push him down on his stomach and kiss and lick and eat his ass. Later discussion reveals that he doesn't think much of his ass because, in his words, he's a skinny black man, but really it is a very nice and very well-formed ass. There is, in fact, not one inch of that guy that is not beautiful. And I really checked.

After he came a second time, he told me that he was going to make me take the sheets home with me and wash them, and I laughed, and he went down on me, and he was really good at that too, but it was after 2am, and we were both running out of steam, so he lay next to me, turned on his side, pulled my arm over him, and we spooned for a while. And we nodded off and then it was 3am and we woke up, and we got out of bed and he handed me some mouthwash, and I gargled, and he jumped in the shower and then brushed his teeth and then started stripping the bed. He got a bed-in-a-bag from the closet, and we remade the bed together, which was kind of cool, but I was getting from his demeanor that this was, after all, just a one-off hook-up, and I did my best not to feel disappointed about that. He got a call from a friend and told her he'd call her back in a couple of minutes, and we kissed a couple of times, and he walked me to the door, and then he handed me a pillowcase stuffed with the linens we'd used, and I took them, and I figured that meant that he'd offered me a second date, and I'd accepted.

We flirted a lot via email and text message this week, and we're getting together tonight. It should be great. And tomorrow night I'm having dinner with RC, and I'm sure that'll be great, too. Maybe I'm on my way to having two guys to date. At least until RC decides that he's too tired and/or OA comes to his senses and finds a guy who's willing (or even eager: it just can't be that hard; in addition to everything else, he's hung) to take it up the ass. But it'll be fun until then.

Reverse Cowboy

2010-03-16T07:03:00.000-04:00

Oh, readers, I cannot properly express how awful this time of year is for a hedonist wannabe such as myself. How am I supposed to pursue ass when I'm at the office six days a week, usually until 9pm or later?

Anyway, I'd had a couple of calls from Victor, the twenty-four-year-old ubercute Black guy from DC, and I'd had to say no to all of them, and I was beginning to feel like a tease, so when it turned out, last Tuesday night, that EFU was going to stay at her mother's and so didn't need to be picked up, I sent Victor a text asking if he wanted to play, and, unsurprisingly, he did. I am not a big fan of going directly from a thirteen-hour day at the office to a hook-up without detouring through a shower, but some time ago Victor made it clear that his hunger for cock was not in any way abated if the cock in question was not quite as fresh as a flower, so I told myself not to be so fastidious and headed for his place. And, hey, it turns out that at 9pm, it's a much faster trip.

I was a little bit tired when I got there, and then after all the making out and the extensive eating of his very fine ass, and the extra-hard pounding with his ankles up over his ears, I was considerably more tired, so when Victor decided that he was going to get into a Reverse Cowboy position, sitting on my cock, facing away from me, and bouncing up and down, I was really in no position to argue. Besides, just lying there and feeling his ass squeeze the head of my cock was entirely too pleasant for words to do it justice. I might have ejaculated that way if he'd kept it up for another half hour or so, but he was playing with himself, and after ten minutes or so, I heard him say, "Oh shit," and then he came.

This, of course, was not an issue for me, but Victor hates to shoot first. In fact, he'd prefer, in general, not to shoot at all, since it reinforces his bottomness -- or whatever -- if I cum and he doesn't. I, on the other hand, am entirely stoked when someone gets so excited by my cock that he can't keep the semen in, and I was perfectly content to lie there and chat for a bit and then call it a day, but Victor will have his (i.e., my) load, so we lay there and kissed while I stroked one out, which, for whatever reason, was a lot of work. Like a full aerobic workout's worth of work, so that after I finally came (spectacularly, I have to admit), Victor marveled at how my heart was pounding. He kept his hand over it and felt it as we lay there and the beating returned to normal, and that was really, really cool.

In the afterglow, Victor told me that his boyfriend -- who, incongruously, likes to be verbally humiliated while he's topping Victor; Victor can't decide whether that's annoying or just funny -- and he are getting along very well and have begun talking about moving in together. So I reckon there's an expiration date on Victor's and my dalliance, but a) the expiration date is likely a few months away, and b) that's always the way, anyway. It's better if things end for practical reasons before the sex loses its awesomeness. On the other hand, given the relative infrequency with which he and I hook up, the awesomeness wasn't going to go away any time soon. Oh well.

It looks like Ridiculously Compatible is going to make me take him on an actual date before he finally lets me fuck him. YFU called me at work Saturday morning to say that she had a church-sponsored overnight that evening, so that left me free (EFU being twenty-one now and not minding if I leave her home alone while I go out for a while) to play. He hadn't been free on Friday and had mentioned Saturday as a possibility, so I sent him an email apologizing for the last-minute nature of the communication and suggesting that the latter part of the evening might well be spent making out on his very comfortable couch. He was amenable to the suggestion, so later that evening, I showered and put on the uniform (RC is inexplicably but significantly turned on by men in tight white t-shirts, and who am I to deny him?) plus a sweater and a jacket and headed over to his place. We stood inside the doorway and kissed for a few minutes, then I took off the jacket and the sweater, and we moved to the couch.

We'd only been making out for a couple more minutes, when RC said, "Is it okay if I take a minute to do something?" I thought maybe he'd left something undone in the kitchen, but what he had to do was move the coffee table away from the sofa so that he could get on his knees and play with my cock, all the while explaining that he knew the plan was to make out on the couch, but that he really couldn't resist, and that he promised to put my cock away after a couple of minutes and resume the making out on the couch. Dude.

My assurances that he was welcome to as much cock time as he wanted notwithstanding, we were back horizontal on the couch again pretty soon, and I began the extended nipple exploration that takes both of us to the happy place for lengthy periods. At some point he said something about sore muscles and needing a massage and we ended up on his bed, naked (I still had the white t-shirt on, though: why not?), and he got his massage, and I got to eat his ass, and there was more of the usual, and it was all very, very good, and then somehow we got into a serious discussion on the nature of dreams, whereupon it turned out that only one of us (guess who) is able to carry on a serious discussion and nipple exploration at the same time.

Nobody's perfect, I guess.

And then his batting me away from his nipples in favor of a serious discussion led to his saying that we really needed to go out to dinner sometime to get to know each other, which he said as if I were going to argue with him, even though I'd already assured him, on at least two previous occasions, that I had designs on his mind as well as his body. Actually scheduling said date is another matter, of course. We'd already planned -- because we weren't mutually available on the weekend -- to hook up Monday evening, and he thought that would be a good night for dinner out, but I had to remind him that there was no way I could be at his place earlier than 8:30, which is not a very auspicious time for dinner in the suburbs, so it'll be more making out, instead. I pitched the following Friday, but he was already busy. I reckon we'll figure it out: my availability increases substantially in a month. Maybe I can talk him into a regular Tuesday evening thing where we watch Glee together and make out during the commercials. The new episodes don't start up until April 13th. OMG, I am such a geek.

I developed a short-lived but moderately intense addiction to chatroulette.com over the weekend. I am pretty clearly not its target demographic (straight exhibitionists under twenty-five), but if you can get past all the uninteresting str8 boys jerking off and the frat boys who dismiss you instantly if you're unwilling or unable to "show us your tits!" you run into a number of charming foreigners who are happy to chat with an American who knows what continent Argentina is in (it's sad how low the bar is to be considered educated in the context of one's fellow Americans) or who can converse relatively competently (débrouiller) in French.

My infatuation was short-lived largely because I'm considerably too old to find chatting with nineteen-year-old straight guys (however charming and/or Brazilian) compelling on an ongoing basis, but I did discover that when in disguise (I am skittish about having my face on the Internet, so I went high tech and put on the 3D glasses that I got when I went to see Avatar) I can pass for thirty on a blurry webcam, though probably only when talking to people who have a lot of sun damage.

This past Thursday or Friday night (I'm too lazy to figure out which), I arranged to hook up with a guy at 9, so I left the office at the ungodly early hour of 8pm, hurried home, showered, and got into my jammies. But there was a delay on the Metro, and YFU had left her birthday present out and on, so I spent an hour cementing my position as the worst Guitar Hero player ever. Go me. Anyway, he didn't arrive until after 10:15, and the last train on weeknights leaves the station near my house sometime not all that long after 11, apparently, so this guy was in a hurry. Which was maybe ok since he wasn't all that great a kisser. He seemed to like kissing well enough, and he was sort of passable, but it wasn't the sort of kissing you get lost in. Also, he was a tall, wiry Black guy with a really nice ass, so it wasn't such a terrible thing for me to have to rush past the making-out-and-nipple-play stage (nip play was something else that he was willing to do but that didn't seem to especially turn him on, so, whatever) and onto the getting-head-while-eating-ass stage.

I thought I had the guy loosened up pretty well, but when I had him put the condom on me and then went to fuck him, he had a lot of trouble taking my cock, so much that he wanted to go back to sucking it, and he did that for a while, but I wanted to fuck him, so I told him to get on his back and we tried again, but that was still hard for him, so he went back to giving head, and then he finally sat on my cock and managed to take most of it, but he still couldn't handle it for very long. I was getting a little bit impatient with him because he kept trying to tell me what to do. At one point, when I had switched over to jerking myself off because he was insistent that I come first, he started slapping my ass, and I had to say, "Dude! Stop slapping my ass" (obvious, I know, but you were expecting me maybe to launch into a recitation of Cicero?) and he did, but when I tried to get him back on his back for some more fucking, he was fighting me, so I just pulled him down next to me and we kissed (it was somewhat better then) while I jerked off.

He told me to let him know when I was going to cum, and I did, and I was pretty worked up by then, so I shot a lot and a long way, and that really set him off, and he straddled my thigh and began stroking himself, and I stuck a couple of fingers in his ass and wedged the fingertips up against his prostate, and eventually he came that way, and then he was up like a shot and saying that he couldn't miss his train, and, you know what, I'd had a pretty intense time and then he was running out the door saying he'd call me, and that actually made for a good hook-up with a truly happy ending. After he'd left, I realized that I should have offered him a ride home: he lives on the other end of the red line, which is more than an hour by subway but no more than ten minutes by car. Oops, but I can't help imagine that it would have been an awkward ten minutes. Then again, maybe he has excellent conversational skills that were crowded out by his need for speed. We'll never know, I reckon.

Going and Coming Around

2010-03-08T00:50:00.002-05:00

EFU decided that since all her courses this semester were tutorials and since she mostly has to finish her thesis to graduate, that she could do all that just as easily at home as at school in Vermont, so in addition to having to work all the time, she's around all the time, which makes it nearly impossible to have men over. There was also a church function this weekend, so I only managed to hook up twice.

In what is becoming something of a habit, I got together Friday night with RC, and yet again we had a splendid time, and yet again I did not get to eat or fuck his ass. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was playing hard to get, but he doesn't seem like the sort to be very good at subterfuge. Anyway, he's an awesome kisser, and his nipples are a thing of beauty and like a lot of attention, so I'm pretty much in heaven whenever we're playing together, which is whenever I'm with him since, as much as I'd like to spend some time getting to know him better (and we do try to carry on a conversation in the interstices), it's really hard to keep my hands and mouth off him.

Time, of course, will take care of that, it being the nature of male-male sexual interactions to lessen in intensity over time. I was having this discussion with Nils, a guy who is so much fun that I'm willing to go to Northern Virginia to play with him. We hadn't gotten together in some months because he only fools around when his partner is traveling, and his partner hasn't been traveling much. We were hanging around in a bit of post-coital canoodling (it is very comfortable to lie with him) and I asked him how he'd spent the recent snow storms, and he told me how he and his partner had first met around ten years ago and there was a big storm then, and they'd spent it walking in the snow, holding hands, and then fucking like rabbits. This time around, however, it was all, "Are you going to go make coffee?" and that sort of thing. Oh well.

Nils mentioned that he was thinking about asking his partner whether he could hook up with other guys even when his partner wasn't traveling, and he said that he thought his partner might already be playing around and just not telling him. I told him that if he thought his partner was hooking up with other guys, he almost certainly was, but that he shouldn't let it bother him. He said that it mostly bothered him because he wanted to be doing the same thing. I thought that he probably should just go ahead and do that, but I didn't want to offer an opinion since I'm not entirely unbiased, and the cardinal rule of hooking up with married and/or partnered guys is that you don't mess with their relationships.

So I just asked him why he thought his partner was playing around on the side, and he told me that there are times late in the day when he's not able to reach his partner and his partner later gives him improbable excuses. And then he said that they'd been at dinner with friends and there'd been a discussion where his partner had said something to the effect of "every man cheats." I told him that I never cheated on b&c, but only because I had permission. If I hadn't had permission, I likely would have cheated, though I probably never would have entered that relationship in the first place without permission to play around, so I guess the issue was a bit moot. I held Nils a bit closer and he said, "But maybe I'm just paranoid. Maybe he isn't cheating at all." Dude.

I don't know why it's so hard, especially given that your partner is already stepping out on you, to say, "Hey, I think we should open the relationship a little bit farther," but, well, I guess I do know why that's so hard, but I don't think that it isn't worth the effort.

It'll be interesting to see what Nils decides to do, though I suspect that if he gets permission from his partner to play around more, it'll likely mean that he and I hook up even less. Right now, I'm pretty sure that I'm number one on his list, but if he can mess around when his partner's home, it'll mean that he'll probably have limited time, so it won't be feasible to travel all the way to my place, play, and then make it home, especially since we never spend less than two hours together, and if he meets more guys over there, he'll probably call them before me when he's home alone and wants to host. Even though the sex he and I have is always spectacular.

In any case, the roster of guys that I have reliably great sex with is not so short that I can't lose one, especially one in Northern Virginia. I was out shopping with EFU today, and I got no fewer than three texts from guys who have become more or less regulars (less during tax season), and they're all good sex. Probably only one of them is as good as Nils, but the others aren't enough less good to make me worry about it. And, in any case, I'm pretty sure that Nils and I will hook up again sometime. In my experience, the combination of great sex and post-coital ease that he and I have creates a connection that isn't easily severed. It can pass out of mind for weeks, months, or years at a time, but at some point the opportunity arises again, and it's as good as before. I can think of four or five guys I've had that with, where hiatuses of anywhere from a month to six years have ended with picking up where we left off.

Double Date

2010-03-02T22:47:00.001-05:00

Saturday evening, I went on something akin to a date with a man with whom I turned out to be comically incompatible with. You could interpret "comically incompatible" to mean either that our sense of humor didn't match or that we were so sexually incompatible that it was funny, and in either case you'd be right. Oh well.

I say it was something akin to a date because I was in his apartment for at least fifteen minutes before I kissed him and because he had asked me before I arrived whether I'd prefer coffee or tea, which question I had understood to be a question about choice of beverage rather than a pair of euphemisms for mutually exclusive sexual practices. As it happened, this person was rather limited in his sexual experience. He did not, for example, know what rimming was; neither had he ever experienced it. Until Saturday evening, anyway. (He's in favor of it now, in case you're wondering.)

I had gone on this something akin to a date because I had recently met someone else with whom I am whatever the opposite of comically incompatible (ridiculously compatible, I suppose) is, and the urge to start dating this person is becoming strong, and I really can't have that, at least not now or for a while, but I'm not willing to give up on seeing him, so I have to find someone else to date because if you're dating two people, then you're not really dating either of them. Or at least that's my position.

Anyway, this other guy, not the ridiculously compatible one, had contacted me on one of the many, many sites that now exist to facilitate male-male social and/or sexual interaction, and he was German, and I thought that it would be fun to be dating someone whom I could refer to as the Taciturn Teuton, and his pictures looked sexy in that closely cropped hair and beard sort of way, and he said that he was a massage therapist, so I set aside my concerns about his somewhat intermediate command of written English and his unfortunate practice of corresponding in all caps, and, after a brief phone conversation (wherein he did seem taciturn and did sound suitably Teutonic), we made arrangements to meet at his place.

And, well, the details are really not worth even the amount of time I've already spent on them. I should just say that a person who never (apparently) gets fucked and doesn't really suck cock should probably not advertise himself as versatile. Still, he was a reasonably nice guy when he wasn't trying (not very forcefully, I'll admit) to do things that I'm just never interested in and am pretty up front about never being interested in, and he had the cool German accent. Really, the way Germans say "museum" is just incredibly entertaining, and you pretty much never run into a German who doesn't say "museum" at least three times within fifteen minutes of the beginning of any conversation, so it's all good.

After I'd kissed him a bit (he told me that he loved kissing, but apparently his love for it stopped short of actually engaging in it in more than a cursory manner or actually showing any enthusiasm about it), he told me he wanted to give me a massage, and, hey, why not? Unsurprisingly, he had very good hands, and I had about two minutes of good relaxation before it became obvious, through his increasing requests for me to move to a slightly different position, that he was trying to maneuver me into a position where my mouth and his cock would brush up against each other. Subtle. As it happened, he had a small, uncut cock, and those are the kind I like, so after a bit of massage, I opened up and sucked on him a little. Then I pulled him down on the bed, put him on his stomach, and showed him what rimming is. He liked it a lot, so much that when I stopped and lay back on my back, he knelt beside me and started to jerk himself off. He told me that he shot big loads, but, here again, not so much.

You have to wonder about anyone who has such an incredibly erroneous self-image of his own sexuality, but whatever. He came, and he wanted me to cum, so I jerked myself off and showed him what a big load really looks like. Then we cleaned up, and I got dressed, and we chatted a couple of minutes more, and I came home. Let's just call it a learning experience. (He would like to see me again, perhaps for a visit to a moo-ZAY-oom, but I think I'll have to pass. Next.)

Besides, the night before, I'd been over at ridiculously compatible's place, and we'd spent 2.5 hours making out and playing around, so I'd already had a great time that weekend. I'm not sure I've ever met someone who likes his nipples worked more than RC, and he claims never to have met anyone who approaches them with as much skill and appetite as I do. He doesn't like the play to be rough, but he does like it intense, and he's a great kisser and a highly skilled cocksucker (and a very nice guy, which helps a lot), so the time just flies by. He's also a bottom, but he's currently having some bottom issues that he describes as a level of irritation that precludes having his ass either eaten or fucked being enjoyable for him. He also told me, on our first hook-up, that he has some difficulty bottoming without some level of emotional connection, and that should frighten me off, but it doesn't. I'm all about the emotional connection, as long as it doesn't preclude my having sexual and/or emotional connections with others. Besides, lately he's been talking about bottoming as soon as the ass issues clear up, so either he's dropped the requirement, or the level of emotional connection (which he never described as having to be very deep) has developed. Probably the latter, since I like him a lot.

But back to Saturday. When I got home from the awkward something-akin-to-a-date with the Taciturn Teuton, it wasn't all that late, but I was very, very tired, so I lay down with the intention of collecting my thoughts, and I fell immediately asleep. I had not, however, bothered to undress or turn off the overhead light, so I only slept until about 1 am, at which point I decided to check my mail and saw that there was a message from yet another guy at yet another site. He described himself as a versatile guy who had had trouble recently finding any tops and so was dying for a pounding. At 1 am, most guys are as direct as I am all the time. It's a good thing. Anyway, he was Black and fit and 5'8 and smooth and liked to kiss and had huge, juicy-looking lips, so when he called, I told him to come on over, even though he said he was over in Hyattsville or some place like that. He said that he'd leave in half an hour, and I told him just to call me when he got close because that way I knew I could jump in the shower, grab another forty winks, wake up when he called to say he was around the corner, and have the equivalent of morning wood.

All of that worked out just right, the only downside being that I was still kind of tired, and he was exceedingly horny, so it was really only about forty-five minutes after he walked through my door when he was straddling me and bouncing up and down on my cock and I was jerking him off and he came and then I came and then he collapsed on me and said, "Don't worry, I do talk, but I need a minute to regroup first," to which I replied, "Zzzzzzzz." He lay there for a few more minutes, and I polished the sweat off his shaved head and kissed him a bit and then he got dressed and I showed him to the door and told him that if he came back earlier in the evening the next time, I wouldn't fall asleep on him.

I got an email from him today saying that he'd call me when he "need[s] a tune-up." I'm down with being seen as a sexual mechanic, but I hope it doesn't mean that I have to buy coveralls.

Note: Guys, thanks for the inquiries after my well being and sexual activity. I'm touched by whatever combination of concern, horniness, and curiosity makes somebody ask after me, and I want to assure everyone that I'm fine and fucking. I'm not fucking as much as usual, but only because it's tax season, and I'm always working. I'm not giving up either fornication or blogging about fornication: it's just a seasonally mandated reduction in frequency. Blame the government.

8 1/2

2010-01-20T11:01:00.002-05:00

So I spent this past long weekend in New York. I went there to sing in a large chorus for a concert of Karl Jenkins' The Armed Man at Lincoln Center, which meant, among other things, that I had to buy a tuxedo, that I spent about fifteen hours in rehearsals and performance, that I caught a show (Hair. Out of this world, in every possible meaning of the phrase. Loved it.), that I got to enjoy a number of good meals, and that I had a few opportunities to hook up.

Hooking up in New York is a lot like hooking up in the Maryland suburbs, except that the merchandise is of somewhat higher quality, and it exists in much greater abundance. I reckon those two phenomena are linked: with so many options, everyone has to work harder to compete. In any case, the practical effect is that the same issues that exist with, say, a Craigslist ad in Maryland are multiplied in Manhattan: there are a lot more responses, and the opportunities expire a lot more quickly. I'm sure there's a branch of economics and/or a branch of mathematics that deals with the difficulties of coupling in such a situation, and I have no idea what it is, but I did at least gain a bit of appreciation for how difficult it must be to form relationships in Manhattan. With so much out there, how does the typically picky gay male know that he has the best that's on offer? And how does he grab it when so many are grabbing at so many?

I, obviously, am not the typically picky gay male, and I clearly wasn't looking for a relationship, so things were somewhat easier for me. I would have liked to hook up a whole lot while I was there, and since I was getting in Friday afternoon and not leaving until Tuesday morning, I probably could have gone for double digits, but I also had the long rehearsals, and I didn't want to turn my back on some of the many non-sexual delights that New York has to offer. So for those reasons, and just because of a feeling I had, I decided to go for nine.

Reader, I came up short. Sort of. I did hook up nine times, but two of the times were with the same particularly engaging Brazilian (Actually, half-Brazilian, half-Lebanese, he said, but he grew up in Brazil.), so let's just call it eight and a half.

I regret not taking notes, mostly because it took me a few minutes to recreate the list, but also because I'm sure there are details I'll forget and that were of great interest at the time and might possibly have interested you even now, if only I had written them down. What can I say? I was busy.

Anyway, here's the line-up:

1. Itty bitty Filipino (Friday afternoon)
2. Brazilian nipple guy (Friday late night)
3. Hot French nipple sub (Saturday afternoon)
4. Mildly odd Brooklyn redhead (Saturday late afternoon)
5. Muscly Latin virgin (Saturday late night)
6. Former army ranger (Sunday morning)
7. Brazilian nipple guy redux (Sunday evening)
8. Cute Colombian cub quicky (Monday morning)
9. Brooklyn Italian extra quicky (Tuesday morning)

And some random notes.

Every New Yorker who doesn't live in Manhattan thinks -- or at least will tell you -- that he can get to you a lot more quickly than he can actually get to you. Every New Yorker who lives in Manhattan also underestimates the amount of time that it will take to get to you, whether he's coming by subway or by cab, but he won't be off by as much, except perhaps proportionately. On Tuesday morning, I was trying to get out of the hotel by 9:30, and #9 called me around 8:15 and said that he could be in Columbus Circle by 8:45. I almost told him no, but there was the quota to consider. He showed up at 9:20. I was out of the hotel at 9:45, and I was still early for my bus, which -- unlike the bus on Friday -- was not at all crowded. It turns out you can do a lot in twenty minutes, or even eighteen. We made out, I worked his nipples some, I went down on him, he went down on me, I ate his ass, he sat on my cock, I put him on his back and fucked him, he said it hurt too much, I put him on his stomach, I fucked him some more, and we both shot our loads. I hadn't cum in a while, so I was pretty worked up, I guess.

I had to tell a couple of the guys who had particularly awesome bodies to stop lying about their ages. Yeah, the built-like-a-god-and/or-a-brick-shithouse Latin virgin probably could have passed for the twenty-seven he originally told me, but not so much after he said that he'd spent twelve years in the military before starting his current career. That guy had an ass that wouldn't quit. Except that it did, sort of. I was fucking him, and he came pretty quickly, and then I had to stop because he told me it "hurts like a motherfucker." He said that he'd never been with a man before but that he was "very sexually open" so he wanted to try it, but that he thought maybe next time he should try topping. I told him that with a body like his, he could pretty much have his pick. He seemed genuinely touched. It was a very interesting conversation, but I think he was straight and just a little gunshy from past girlfriends and hoping things would be easier with guys. And not overly encumbered by moral or societal considerations. His ass still hurt when he left, but he was very pleasant about it.

Similarly, the Frenchman who'd said he was fifty and who had the body of a (very fit) thirty-five year old looked even better when I found out he was actually fifty-nine. Playing with that guy was literally like playing an instrument: when I bit on his nipples, he moaned in an almost musical manner, and when I increased the intensity, the pitch went up. And boy did he love having them worked. He also loved being fucked. And kissing. Mais attendez! Il y en a plus! When I'd finished fucking him and then stroking the cum out of him while I bit down on his nipples and he went for a high C, we chatted for a few minutes in French! I love that, and I rarely have the opportunity. He also claimed to be impressed by my mastery of the language and my accent (or lack thereof), but I think he was just being kind, out of gratitude for the awesome rogering I'd just given him. I am a lot more modest about my French than about my topping skills, apparently.

Speaking of well-built men, the former army ranger was 6'2 and, well, he looked like an army ranger. Actually, to be thorough, he looked like an army ranger who has retired and become a manager of an IT firm while staying in great shape. Which, in fact, he turned out to be. Let x = x. When we were done, and he had told me what he did, I said to him, "You know, you look exactly like a former army ranger who manages an IT firm." He was very quiet in bed, and the only time I even got slightly louder breathing out of him was when I slapped his ass. I prefer my subs to be somewhat louder and/or more verbal, but I'm pretty willing to forgive a body like that a little bit of silence, especially when the guy sucks well and has a tight, beautiful ass. Besides, he appears to have had a good time. After we were done, he went off to meet former army buddies, hang out in a bar, flirt with women, and watch the playoffs.

The second time the engaging and very talkative Brazilian guy came, he left behind his container of lube. Apparently, the very pedestrian brand of lube I use is not up to New York standards because most of the guys brought their own lube. And many of them brought their own poppers, which is just as well since I never use them. Sadly, none of them brought their own condoms, which, when you think about it, are the ideal gift to bring to this sort of occasion. I almost exhausted my supply, even though I didn't fuck a couple of the guys. I guess I could have bought more, but I can only imagine -- given the cost of a drink -- what a condom costs in Manhattan. I was on Canal Street, and I suppose that when one of those guys said, "Rolex?" to me, I could have said, "Forex," but one can only imagine that the counterfeit condoms are not of the highest quality. Surely that's why the city government has been closing down all those shops. Anyway, I assume the Brazilian left the lube behind by accident. It could have been a gift, but then why would the price tag still be on it. And: that much? He clearly didn't get that lube on Canal Street. What a sucker. Literally: great with the oral, that one. Also fun to cuddle and talk with afterwards. Mmmmmm, Brazilians.

Finally, the Holiday Inn on W.57th Street was a great place to stay for hooking up. Sure, it's not the most convenient location since guys will have to walk a full five minutes from the Columbus Circle station, but the rooms are huge by NYC standards, the bed was very comfortable, and if you invite someone over, he can come up to the room without being hassled by security, except between midnight and 6am. I'm pretty sure the muscly Latin virgin arrived at 11:58. The Brazilian was the only guy who actually had to have someone call up to my room, and I think he enjoyed having the guy at the desk know he was there for a hook-up.

They really need to fix their ice machines, though.

Common Misconceptions

2010-01-13T16:58:00.000-05:00

After several failed attempts, last night I finally managed to get a third hoo-up with Shane, the uber-hot, early thirties former gymnast with maybe ten tattoos and maybe six percent body fat. The last time we hooked up was way back around the end of summer. His partner had pretty much kicked him out, and we fucked on the carpet in their nearly empty townhouse. I was sore for a couple of days afterwards, but it was clearly worth it.

Since then, he and his sometime partner had reconciled and then come apart permanently, and he'd been staying with friends in DC and working several jobs, trying to get back on his feet, even though he's clearly most comfortable on his back. I'd contacted him occasionally, but he'd always had to work, and one time he'd fallen asleep until after the last Metro train, but we talked on the phone, and he said, "Come on. You know how much I like being fucked by you." So I texted him on Sunday, saying, "Monday or Tuesday?" and he said that could work, but Monday didn't work, and last night almost didn't work, either. He's starting another job and had to wait around for a form to fill out, or something, and I thought maybe he was going to stand me up, so I sent an email to this twenty-three year old guy who'd been corresponding with me regularly since he'd responded to one of my craigslist ads. He'd never done anything with a man, but he was awfully curious, and earlier in the day he'd said that he'd be available in the evening. I'd told him that I had plans but that I'd let him know if they fell through.

Anyway, I emailed him my phone number, he called, and he came over and came. Twice. Mostly we made out and he went down on me, and I fingered him some and ate his ass some, and then we made out some more while I stroked him to two very quiet orgasms. He'd mentioned when he walked in the door that he was nervous, so I asked him periodically whether he was ok, and he always said, "Yeah" and nothing more. I mentioned later that he's very quiet, and he said, "Yeah, I am." But he was a great kisser (nice lips, good technique) and a natural at sucking cock, assuming that it really was his first time, and it probably was. I think he would have loved being fucked, but he only had about an hour, and I would have wanted more time to get him accustomed to the idea as well as to plow him, so I settled for stroking a couple of small loads out of him. His girlfriend is currently home from college, and he had to go to a party with her after we were done. I asked him whether they had lots of sex, and he said, "Yeah, we do." A bona fide bisexual, I reckon, and very sweet. He apologized for cumming on the sheets. It happens. I wonder whether I'll see him again. It would be interesting seeing his reaction to getting fucked the first time.

He left around 9, and I puttered around for nearly an hour before deciding to try Shane's phone again. He answered, saying he'd been just about to call me and that he was getting a ride to the Red Line. I told him to call me when he got to Wheaton, and I would pick him up at Glenmont. An hour passed, and he called to say he was at the Rhode Island Ave station. This was beginning to look inauspicious, at least in terms of getting started at a reasonable hour. Apparently the train stopped at a number of stations to wait for trains from other lines. Anyway, it was 11:30 or so when he called from Wheaton. I went to fetch him from the station, and before long, there he was, with the body of a jockey wrapped in many layers.

I was not particularly surprised when he wanted a cigarette as soon as we got back to my place. I let him smoke on the porch, then I grabbed him, and he said something about needing to shower and brush his teeth. I grabbed him more fervently and shepherded him upstairs where I found that both nipples and his cockhead are now pierced. Awesome. Well, actually, who cares about a cock piercing, but two pierced nipples? AWESOME. I did my best to get him undressed and in bed, but he was insistent about the shower, etc. (I had showered both before and after the twenty-three year old.) so I let him out of my grasp and dozed on the bed.

He took his time, but when he came back, he was more than ready. I know that what Shane loves above all else is to be fucked long and hard, but he was downright affectionate last night, so there was a little bit of what would have been considered cuddling if I hadn't been kissing him and tugging hard on his nipples at the same time. But we only made out for about fifteen minutes. He seemed hungry for my cock, and I, naturally, was hungry for his very fine ass. As I ate it, he told me that I needed to shove my cock up it, but I continued to eat it for a while, and he didn't complain. Still, it wasn't long before the usual paraphenalia made its way onto the bed and onto my cock and his ass, and he was sitting on top of me, riding.

Which reminds me how, the night before, I'd gotten an email in response to a craigslist ad from this guy who was in his early twenties and extremely cute, and he said he was going to hop on the Metro and come see me, even though he was in Bethesda, and I was pretty sure the last train had already run. Also, he didn't ask for my phone number or my address, and while I suppose he could have emailed me for them from his cell phone after arriving in Glenmont, I was pretty sure that he was either playing me or just deluding himself. So I accepted the proposition of someone else who wanted to come over and have me dominate and pound him, and that was a very good choice, indeed, since he was able to handle nipple work at about a six. And when we were done, and it was well after midnight, I checked my email again, and there was an email saying -- lo! and behold! -- that the Metro had been closed. I felt like sending that guy an email saying, "Dude. If you want to pretend that you're going to hook up with someone, at least make your story plausible. Ask for a phone number to call so that you don't have to pretend to be someone who's going to spend nearly an hour on the subway with no idea of your specific final destination. Also, choose an email address that's a little more subtle than ride.this.biotch@gmail.com.

But back to Tuesday, Shawn was riding me for a while, but I knew what he wanted was to be on his back with his ankles around his ear and my cock pounding his prostate so that he almost couldn't take it but would be damned if he'd ever give it up, so we did that. For a long time. For whatever reason, Shawn turns me into a fucking machine (admittedly not that much of a transformation) that just won't stop. We switched positions a few times and then took a break during which he queried me about whether I'd been having much sex lately. "I'm doing ok," I said, and he pretended to be hurt that I wasn't the first guy he'd plowed in my new home. "If you loved me, you'd wait for me." "Dude, even if I did love you, I wouldn't wait for you." He laughed. Then he asked whether he was at least the first guy in 2010 to be entertained in my bed, and I was thinking to myself, "Just please don't ask whether you're the first one tonight," and fortunately, he didn't.

I get this sort of reaction a lot, though, from bottoms. They apparently think that because I'm extremely passionate when I'm kissing and fucking them (also, apparently grabbing someone and kissing him when he comes in the door and before shaking his hand or whatever is seen as extremely dominant and sweeps some men right off their feet when all I'm going for is efficiency) that I haven't had sex in a while or don't have much sex. No, I just really get into what I do.

Shane said that he hadn't been fucked properly in a long time, but then he proceded to tell me about a straight friend of his who'd never done anything with a guy before and who was about to move back to Wisconsin, and the two of them had been hanging out and Shane got up to get something, and his friend pulled him back down roughly onto his lap where Shane felt a "raging hard-on. Then he pulled my jeans down and buried his face in my ass for like four minutes and then he fucked me. It was like a transcendental experience because he'd never done anything with a guy before. He was a little drunk."

That was something of a turn-on, not that I needed more, so I put him back on his back and rogered him for another few minutes before turning him onto his stomach, lying on top of him, and plowing him until I came, which only took about another fifteen. That boy is one hot fuck. Then he pulled out his camera and showed me a video of a guy who visits regularly from Atlanta fucking him. That didn't get me so worked up, but it may just have been the exhaustion of cumming hard at a late hour after more than a half-hour of hard pounding.

We cuddled up for a while, then he went down on me and got me hard again, and I fucked him a little bit more from a spooning position, but it was after 2 and we were both tired, so we fell asleep, entertwined.

I messed with him a little bit more during the night, but he was hard to wake up, even when I rubbed my cock against his ass, so I went back to sleep until about 8, when I got up, showered, and called the office to say I'd be in late. Shane was still dead to the world, so I lubed up, rolled him onto his stomach, and entered him from behind. He groaned, but I knew he liked it, and I was really, really hard, so I just started to plow him, nothing fancy. We'd been at it for nearly fifteen minutes when he called a break. I rolled off him, kissed him a bit, got him all the way on his back, pushed his knees up, and started in again on his prostate, and he took it pretty well for another five minutes, but then he said he couldn't take it any more. So I rolled off him, figuring I'd had more than my share, but he insisted that I cum. It took me a while, and after the night before, I didn't have all that much cum left, but the couple of shots I did have flew all the way to my shoulder.

I jumped in the shower again. We chatted for a while as we got dressed, and I drove him to the subway. He said that he's moving back to Maryland and that he promises it won't be another six months before we fuck again. We'll see, but I'm going to have to make sure the next time is on a weekend because I'm pretty wasted today.

Misc

2010-01-06T00:14:00.001-05:00

I've been having lots of sex lately, at least on days when neither of the kids is home, and it's become impossible to chronicle it all, or at least, if I took the time necessary to write entries for every time I fuck, it would cut into the actual fucking time, and we simply cannot have that, can we? (Hint: the answer is NO.)

Besides, I've begun to get a little bored with reporting the same old sexual activities over and over. I don't ever get bored with the sex, of course, but sex is part of my practice, my meditation, my approach to the ineffable, so at some point writing about the details -- as fun as they were, and they were -- becomes like talking about chanting sessions, or something similar. "I walked the labyrinth again; it seemed unusually twisty today."

But I don't want to give up the pornographic non-fiction altogether, and I do need to be keeping notes. This past weekend, I narrowly averted hooking up a second time with a guy who I really don't want to hook up with again, and I only avoided it by memory. I should have been able to avoid it by referring to some sort of record, other than gmail. I have to come up with something, but is a puzzlement.

Among my hook-ups this weekend was a guy with the largest nutsack I have ever encountered. It was the size of a grapefruit, and it was beneath a rather small cock, which made it all the more impressive. It was shaped a lot like a grapefruit, too, as if there were only one supermassive nut inside. I asked the guy whether the nuts (I'm assuming there were, indeed, two) had always been like that, and he said they had.

This guy was otherwise rather uninteresting, and though he wanted to be fucked, he said, it seemed like the best option was just to get him off as quickly as possible and send him on his way. So we made out some, and I worked his nipples gently but intently, which got him leaking all sorts of precum, and I stroked him off until he came, almost violently. He thanked me and said that he would sleep well. It was all very civilized.

I encountered no fewer than three pairs of button-fly jeans this weekend. I can't remember the last time I hooked up with a button-fly-jean-wearing guy, so that seemed odd to me. It may have been that I was feeling extra assertive this weekend and got so many of the guys on the bed before they had a chance to remove anything: other times, they sometimes take off their pants before they hit the bed. But I don't think that explains the situation entirely. Two of these guys were in their early forties and one was in his mid-fifties, and they were otherwise very different from each other in looks and manner, so I have no common factor to explain the sudden spike in 501s and/or 501 wannabes. (I didn't actually check brands; in most cases, I was working on the buttons with my hands while I was making out with the guys, so I didn't actually look at the flies.) Perhaps they're more common than I realized, or perhaps there's a resurgence.

It's not a big deal, but despite how much I like taking my time when undressing a man, I prefer zippers.

My favorite hook-up from the weekend was a shy, smooth Asian who had driven all the way from downtown DC in a VW Beetle. (I didn't notice the car until he was leaving.) He had all the hallmarks of repressed sexuality, most notably timidity, vocal enjoyment, and being easily overwhelmed by passion. He was so tight that I wasn't sure I'd be able to fuck him, but I slowly opened him up, and I took my time getting into him, and the transition from "too thick!" to "fuck me!" was gratifyingly smooth. When I had fucked him in several positions for as long as I wanted, he still needed me to cum so that he could cum, and I finished myself off by hand as we kissed. I shot all the way to his shoulder, and he came very shortly thereafter.

I'm pretty sure, from how much he closed up after he came, that I'll never see him again, and that's a damned shame. He had the most amazing pair of full, soft lips, and he knew how to use them. Oh well: next!

Nine

2010-01-03T17:25:00.000-05:00

The king is dead. Long live the king.

Some time ago, I wrote a post wherein I was forced to relate the end of a long-term, high-density, low-frequency dalliance with the only man ever to maintain a sustained 9 on the TED nipple play scale (0 = don't even look at them! it tickles!; 10 = bit them off: I'll grow more). I don't feel like linking to it, so I'll summarize: I apparently went to 9.5; he freaked out and never called me again. Sic transit gloria mundi, which is Latin for "damn!"

Anyway, there's this guy Gil who, apparently, lives a couple of miles down Georgia Avenue from me and who had been telling me for the longest time (weeks!) that he wanted to be my bitch (his words, not mine) and that he wanted me to give his nipples a workout that would leave them swollen and sore for days on end. A major challenge for you, perhaps, but for me just another day at the office, albeit a very good day at the office.

There had been a number of failed attempts to hook up, and I was beginning to wonder whether Gil was either terminally unlucky or yanking my chain. When he said that he wanted to hook up a couple of Saturdays ago, I reminded him that we were expecting a couple of feet of snow, but he said that wouldn't stop him. Fortune smiles on the intrepid, I guess. Anyway, I said sure because no one else was going to go out in that weather, so if he didn't show up, I'd be no worse off.

Gil called when he was on the way to the house, saying he'd be there soon and expressing wonder at the people who were simply abandoning their cars on the road. Well, two feet of snow, you know. But he's in construction management, and he has a pick-up truck, and pretty soon after he called, he was marching up to the front door and then standing in the entryway removing his boots and then being grabbed by me as I started to kiss him. It had been his saying that he liked to make out that had sold me on him.

A lot of guys who like to kiss don't bother mentioning that they like to kiss because they just don't see why anyone wouldn't like it. Similarly, a lot of guys who simply won't kiss other men don't bother to mention it because it never occurs to them that the same guy who wants to fuck them until they scream for their mamas might want to make out with them. Anyway, Gil hadn't lied about liking to kiss, and he was pretty good at it, for a thin-lipped white guy. Actually, everything about him was thin. He was the lean, wiry, hairy sort of construction guy, rather than the barrel-chested, beer-bellied sort of construction guy, not that there's anything wrong with that.

Anyway, I had fun pushing him up the stairs while pulling his sweatpants halfway down his ass and then tossing him on the bed and going almost immediately for his nipples. We were both in heaven, right from the outset, and he seemed to be transported to higher and higher levels of paradise (Full disclosure: I have never read the purgatory or paradise sections of the Divine Comedy, so I don't even know whether paradise has levels. But you take my meaning.) as I worked his nipples harder and harder. And, believe me, I threw everything at them that my fingers, tongue, lips, and teeth could provide. I didn't bother getting out the nipple clamps, since neither of my pairs of nipple clamps is all that intense, and my teeth do a pretty good job. Maybe I should invest in a pair of jumper cables, but I always have trouble remembering which clamp gets grounded instead of going on the battery terminal. And, of course, there are the analogous problems if you use them on a guy: if one set of clamps goes on his nipples, where does the other set go? Some guys say their nipples are hardwired to their cock, but the implications seem painful.

Time pretty much stands still for me when I'm working nipples (even gently), and I've waited a while to write this up, so the details are a bit vague now, but Gil stayed around for about 3.5 hours, during which time he went down on me and rimmed me, and during which time I fucked him twice. I ate his ass, too, but that hardly needs to be said, n'est-ce pas? There was also maybe a half hour of entangled napping under the comforter, and that's always nice. When we were about an hour in, he told me that I'd have to kick him out to get him to leave, but I knew that was just talk: he has a partner (or something like a partner; he's very vague on the subject, and who cares, really?) at home, and, hell, what am I going to find better to do in the middle of a weekend snowstorm than eat some guys nipples for as long as he can take it. In the end, he did leave, citing the need to take care of some cats he was sitting. Whatever. Nobody really needs to feel like he left too quickly after a 3.5 hour midday hookup.

It remains to be seen, as it always does, whether this will turn into a regular fuckbuddy situation. There's something about him that he's not letting on, and I suspect that it may be a guilt thing where he has trouble accepting that he wants to be submissive until the urge overwhelms him, and then I have to be the one who's available when that happens, or wait for another urge. Or maybe he just has to wait for his nipples to recover. I'm sure they were sore for at least a week.

The Calm Before

2009-12-23T22:13:00.000-05:00

We were expecting a massive snowstorm this past weekend (it showed up), and I reckoned on spending Saturday and most of Sunday snowbound, so I thought I should try to hook up Friday night. I'd meant to play with a guy who'd been wanting to meet me for some time, but we'd exchanged numbers, and I'd called him, as he'd asked, during the day on Friday to firm up the evening's arrangements, and I hadn't gotten a call back. So I posted on craigslist. I got a response from Tom, a sexually repressed guy whom I've played with several times in the past, before the move, and whom I regard as something of a project: I'll get him out of his shell yet. I was chatting with my buddy Angelo when Tom said he'd come over. Angelo said he was supposed to have a date, but his date didn't answer when he called, so I asked whether he'd like to come for a group and then have dinner afterwards. He seemed excited by the idea, and accepted.

And then Anthony, the guy who hadn't returned my call, returned my call to say that he'd left his phone at home that day. I told him that I had some other matters to attend to but that we could meet around 9, and he said that would work. Another scheduling crisis averted.

Tom had said fifteen minutes, and Angelo lives farther away than that, but I figured Tom hadn't counted on traffic, so I wasn't particularly surprised when Tom arrived a couple of minutes after Angelo. (When the two of them were confirmed, I texted Pedro to see if he wanted to join us, and he got back to me as the two of them were walking up the stairs to the bedroom to say that there wasn't enough time. Later he texted me to say that he wanted to be included in future threeways, but he'd appreciate more notice. I told him I didn't always know that far in advance. I left unsaid that I'm not inclined to go out of my way for him: he's hot, but he seems to think that I'm his madam or something.) I made the introductions, kissed each of them, and marched them up the stairs.

I was the first on the bed. Angelo was quickly naked and joined me, and Tom, not surprisingly, just watched for a bit until I told him to suck my cock, which he did. Angelo is a great kisser, and he has a very fun Latin bear body, so I was alternating between his lips and nips for a while. Eventually, I started to kiss Tom, and then I told him to suck my cock, which is what he wanted to hear, I think. It's a little bit hard to tell with him since he seems dogmatically opposed to expressing desires. Anyway, after a while, I pulled Tom on top of me and started kissing him again, and Angelo started to eat his ass, and then maybe -- my view was obstructed, and I was busy kissing -- Angelo tried to fuck Tom and Tom sort of waved him off, but maybe they just moved around a bit and, yikes, there went the bed.

See, when I moved, I had my old queen bed disassembled and moved and reassembled, and I don't think the movers did a great job of getting all of the barrel bolts lined up just right, but for whatever reason, instead of being plumb, the side supports of the bed are closer together at the top than at the bottom, so the ledges on which the slats that make the platform sit are farther apart than they ought to be, and if there's a lot of rocking, the ledges move even slightly farter apart and the slats move back and forth until they fall, loudly, off one of the ledges. This, unsurprisingly, never fails to make an impression upon whoever happens to be sharing the bed with me at the time. I'm sort of used to it by now, though, so I just shooed everyone off the bed, lifted the mattress, rested it on top of my back, moved the slats far enough to one side to get them back onto the ledge and then back to the middle so they wouldn't fall a second time during the same session, and corralled everyone back onto the bed. Well, everyone except for Tom, who started to get dressed, asked me whether I'd split up with b&c, and said "I'll see you," as he departed.

Angelo looked at me and said, "Is he always like that?" and I replied, "Yeah, pretty much. He gets overwhelmed easily. He's a long-term project," and then we started making out again. Before the bed collapse, we'd been playing for a pretty long time, anyway, and much of that time had consisted of my sucking on Angelo's nipple and stroking his cock until he was right on the verge of orgasm. Angelo's always been something of a quick shooter, so it never takes long to bring him to the verge, and I'd managed to keep him there for maybe half an hour before the big bang, so I really didn't feel like I needed to delay his cumshot much longer. Besides, I needed to move things along if we were going to have dinner and I was still going to have time to get back home for my 9 o'clock.

But afer I started back on Angelo's nipples, he took a long hit from the popper bottle (which Tom may have brought and left: I found it after the session was over when I was walking around the bedroom and accidentally kicked it across the floor and into my closet, where it sits to this day) and overdid it so that some of the liquid got into his sinus, or whatever, and he had to run out of the room and make hurling sounds (I'm not sure whether he actually hurled) in the bathroom. It sounded like not so much fun, really.

When he came back, I figured it was time to make him shoot, but I did take a minute to eat his ass first, though, because I know how much he likes that. Then I started sucking on his nipple again while I stroked him until he shook and jerked and shot. The bed held, but I had barely wiped up the cum when he had to jump up and go try again to expel the extra poppers from his sinuses. He returned from the bathroom with tears of exertion on his face. I tried to comfort him, but he had to make two more trips to the bathroom in short order, and then he apologized saying that he'd really wanted to have dinner but that he would have to go home instead. Ordinarily, I'd have been disappointed, but I did have the other guy coming in less than two hours, and I knew that it would be really convenient if I could squeeze in a trip to Costco before that. So I did.

I got home just after 9, and Anthony arrived perhaps ten minutes later. He's a fit, early fifties Black man, and he was a lot of fun. I was a little bit tired from the day, but he had really nice lips, so I revived quickly as soon as we started kissing, which was as soon as he got in the door. I maneuvered him up the stairs, out of his clothes, and onto the bed, and we made out for an extended period. Anthony is, I believe, versatile, and he's not submissive, and he didn't seem especially interested in anything other than kissing and oral -- though he didn't seem to mind having his ass eaten -- and that was fine with me. After maybe forty-five minutes of foreplay and some alternating oral, we got into one of the very rare, for me, sixty-nines where I'm sucking the other guy's cock -- rather than eating his ass -- while he's sucking mine. It didn't take long for Anthony to cum, and he shot a pretty good load on my chest as I sucked on his nuts, but my load was significantly more voluminous and forceful when I finally brought myself off by hand, while he lay next to me and we kissed.

He got cleaned up and left. By that time, the snow was beginning to fall in earnest, though it hadn't made the roads difficult yet, and I figured that Gil, the nipple-abuse-loving submissive who'd said that he'd come over on Saturday afternoon would be cancelling, but I also thought that I might not really be missing much. As it happens, I was wrong on both counts, but I reckon that is another story.

Hotter Tuesday

2009-12-16T23:55:00.001-05:00

As Tuesday afternoon drew to a close, I was wondering whether Vim would put me off again. I was hoping that he wouldn't since that would mean either going home and having a quiet evening or going home and looking for sex, and we all know which of those I'd choose. Looking for sex often ends up in a really good time, as it had on Monday, but there is always an off chance that I won't find anyone suitable. Also, given how much fun Vim had been, there was the likelihood that whoever I ended up with would be not as much fun as he, perhaps by a large margin. I would estimate the probability of finding no one at all to be about 10%. And, assuming a successful hookup, I would estimate the level of enjoyment to be normally distributed around a mean of 50% as much fun as Vim, so if the expected value Vim is 1.0, the expected value of not-Vim would be only about 0.45. It is probably just as well that I only think of expected value calculations long after the fact. When I'm in the middle of a two-star encounter, I'm just having a lot of fun, and it's only a two-star counter after the fact. I blame the follow-up analysis on a secondary and post-secondary education that over-emphasized quantitative methods.

Anyway, I called Vim around 6, and he said that he was in the middle of his commute and would be home around 7, and he would greatly appreciate twenty minutes of post-arrival, pre-coital time. He may not have said it exactly like that. In any case, I told him I'd see him around 7:30, and he said that would be fine.

I got to his place just before 7:30, but apparently he had only just arrived, because after I kissed him at the door and followed him into the bedroom and watched him undress and let him undress me and kissed him some more and sucked on his nipples until we were both gasping, he leaped up from the bed and said, "I'm really sorry, but I haven't eaten anything all day, and I'm starving," and, well, he's the sort of person who cannot do anything without being adorable, so I smiled and relaxed for a minute, and when he returned, he tasted of sweet potato pie.

So, in addition to being only 24, Vim is only 5'4, and he weighs only 125 pounds, so when, some time later, he insisted on riding me, I could definitely feel my cock being gripped in the most pleasant of ways, but without having to support any additional weight. It must be what it's like to fuck a fleshlight, only I'm guessing that's a lot less fun, just because almost everything is a lot less fun than fucking Vim.

The things that are not less fun than fucking Vim include making out with him and, most notably, eating his ass. And probably having him go down on me, though much more so when the him-going-down-on-me thing is combined with the my-eating-his-ass thing. Anyway, before the fucking and after the initial making out and the sweet potato pie, I kissed him and then sucked on his nipples until he could no longer resist leaping up and either a) going down on me (three times) or b) getting more pie (once). And then, on the third time around, I finally pulled him around so that I could shove my tongue into him while twisting his nipples. I did that until he sat up, and then I did it some more until he asked if I would fuck him. I would. I did.

We started out with him on top, facing me and bouncing up and down while I reached up and played with his nipples. He never likes what I'd call rough nipple play, but when he's being fucked, he asks for them to be pulled more firmly, and, hey, I'm a guest, I do what I'm told.

We fucked in a lot of positions and for a long time, and we both liked every one. Typically, my favorite was with him on his back. He's very flexible, so I could grab his calves and push his feet down over his head and get a really good angle on his prostate. In that position, most guys seem entirely overwhelmed with some combination of either pain or more sensation than they can process and sheer pleasure, but Vim's pleasure was unalloyed. He turned his head and closed his eyes, and smiled the sort of smile that you hope you'll see all the time in heaven. Bliss. Bliss is very intoxicating, so I kept pounding him for a long time.

Eventually I needed a break and he needed more pie, and then we resumed with him back sitting on my cock, but I felt surfeited with pleasure, so I lay next to him and we kissed, and I played with his nipples and, eventually, I grabbed his cock and began to stroke him while sucking his nipple and, after what seemed like a highly appropriate interval, he said, "You're going to make me cum," and I said, "I know."

And, of course, after that, there's always the post-coital let down, but there wasn't. We kissed for a while, and he smiled, and he eventually grabbed a towel and cleaned the ejaculate off himself, and we chatted about his (many, many) food allergies, and he went for another piece of pie, whose crust, apparently, was made with millet and spelt and something else, and he lay back down and ate it, and his skin is smooth and dark, and it glows, so the crumbs of the crust were apparent upon it, and I sucked them quickly off his skin, whereupon it became clear that he is highly ticklish.

He was telling me about his boyfriend and saying that we should probably finish up because he was hungry and he had to cook because he was too lazy to dress and go out, and he ended up telling me about a very good Indian restaurant in Silver Spring that I had not previously heard of, and I said that perhaps we could go there some evening after sex, and he said why not now, so we went. The food was great, and so was the company: he converses nearly as attractively as he smiles. It's just as well that he has a boyfriend; otherwise, I might become infatuated with him, especially since he seems very eager to have me come back, and I will not get attached to anyone so young.

I am not accustomed to being so attracted to youth, and given how much of my sexual activity and interest still revolves around men my age and older, I don't think it's Vim's youth that attracts me so much as his intelligence and smile and lips and nipples and ass (not in that order, but they're all really nice), and probably the fact that he's already attached. But there is something about the young, right? I mean, that something -- the innocence, the glow -- is generally overmatched by all of the annoyances that accompany immaturity, but in the rare case when they're not, and you've just had incredible sex with a guy who subsequently introduces you to an awesome Indian restaurant, and you're sated on lust and lamb saag, and you've had to ask for the checks because your very charming and perhaps even more sated companion is falling asleep while smiling at you, and you leave the restaurant, and he leaps up the parking garage steps two at a time, with a lightness and grace surely borrowed from some young gazelle, well, maybe you've had the best hook-up ever.

Or at least the best hook-up so far. I'm still young, after all.

Hot Monday

2009-12-16T20:18:00.000-05:00

So: Monday. It was Monday, and I was supposed to hook up with Vim, the super-cute young Black guy whom I'd met on Friday in a somewhat truncated hook-up. I'd said around 7 but that I'd call first, and when I called at 6:15, he said he was in the middle of his commute and that he wouldn't be home by then, and could we do it later, like possibly 7:30. Or ish. And that was cool with me, but then maybe five minutes later, he called again and said that he had to pick up something for his mother, but that he'd be home and available by 9:15, if I wanted to play, and I really didn't fancy going down to Fort Totten that late on a Monday night. It would surely mean not getting home before midnight.

I decided not to invest the intellectual and/or emotional energy necessary to assess whether Vim was playing games with me. He'd seemed sincere, and after a very brief discussion, the upshot had been him saying that he'd see me Tuesday night. I headed home, thinking that maybe it was a good night to get caught up on housework or read a book and go to bed early, but as soon as I sat down at the computer to check email, I felt the urge to at least put some lines in the water. I sent a text message to Gil. Gil is a local submissive whom I still haven't met. If we can ever align our schedules, then I'm thinking he may turn out to be a great fuckbuddy for occasional rough dom/sub play, but a) that may require an upgrade on my bed frame, and b) I'm not sure I'm ever going to see any return on the (admittedly small) investment that I've already put into the Gil project. Not surprisingly, when I was posting a craigslist ad (and, to be honest, I was posting it without much conviction) and checking out some other sites, Gil texted back to say that he wasn't available. Or, in his words:

ted amd riving back from kent county. guys from work in truck w me. cant talk but xox work me in later this week? ?

A book and bed was looking pretty good.

I got a message, on a site that specializes in the over-forty crowd, from a guy who's screen name included something very similar to "CDLucy," and I thought, a) oh hell no, b) why do so many cross-dressers self-identify as Lucy? c) he does not make an attractive woman, d) does it have something to do with Lucy Van Pelt? e) Joe Lieberman is really a douchebag, and f) sigh. The sigh being my politeness kicking in. I hate to leave even the most inappropriate of offers unrespondedto, so I sent a message thanking Ms. Van Pelt for her offer, but telling her that I am really not into cross-dressers. The bed and book stock continued to rise.

After rejecting a couple of unpromising responses to my CL ad, I saw that Lucy had sent me another message, wherein he informed me that a) he was travelling and so did not have his lady clothes with him, b) he could not, in any event, pass as a woman, and c) he really, really liked to kiss. So I checked the stats, which all looked good, and called the phone number he'd left. He sounded like a pretty cool guy, and he was staying at a hotel that is only a short drive from my house, so I said I could come over, and he gave me the room number.

Jon, as we must now called him, answered the door wearing only a pair of jeans, and it was a very good choice. It's always one of my favorite looks, and his were just loose enough to show off a tan line and a hint of asscrack, and, as is so often the case, I could not -- and, in fact, did not -- resist the urge to grab him and kiss him. Yum. I did not stop kissing him, but I did make a mental note that most men do look much better as men. And then I made a second mental note to the effect of but I don't judge. It is not the first time that I have made either of those mental notes, but some things bear repeating, particularly if you can repeat them mentally without stopping the lip locking action.

I worked on Jon's nipples some, but I concentrated on the kissing for a while, throwing in the occasional wrist-grab-and-pin-over-his-head combo which drives a lot of the bottoms, especially the sub or semi-sub ones, wild. We had gotten a bit of a late start for a Monday, and I figured he was in something of a hurry when he rushed to get my pants off and go down on me. He murmured something about how he hadn't had a cock in a while and something else about how big mine was, but he had pretty good fellatory technique, so I didn't listen all that closely. I did, after a while, pull him up and start kissing him again, and we went through three rounds of the make out/blow job tango before I pulled his legs around so that I could eat his ass.

He'd been somewhat reserved (though he certainly didn't complain) when I'd worked on his nipples, but the reserve evaporated when I went in for the ass eat. Fortunately, he didn't let it get in the way of sucking my cock, so I kept at it for a while. We were on our second go-round of that when he opined that he had never taken a cock as thick as mine, but that he would certainly like to try.

Can I just say that I've been through this all many times, and it always sounds the same from both the other guy and from me. My contribution typically consists of "hmmm" and "yeah" and "relax," and the other guy's dialog is always something along the lines of "Oh, I want that cock. Oh it's so thick I'm not sure I can take it. Uhhhh. Go slow. Slow. I can't take it. I want to, but I just can't. Slow, please. Ohhhhhhhhh. Ohhhhhhhh. Ohhhhhhhh. Yeah, fuck me. Fuck me. FUCK ME!

It's always exactly the same.

And it never gets old.

Anyway, for someone who wasn't going to be able to take my cock, Jon certainly took a hard plowing in a number of positions. He was really tight, though, and I came while I was fucking him. I used to say that almost never happens, but looking back, it seems like it happens nearly one-fifth of the time. Anyway, I was feeling terrific, and he seemed not to need anything else, but I kept kissing him and working his nipples, harder now and with more positive feedback, and eventually he started stroking himself, and he came with an impressive amount of intensity.

And then it was late and he said that he had an early meeting in the morning, so I got dressed and he told me that he's in construction management and will be back in the area in a week to do an inspection of a site and really wants me to fuck him again. He also told me that he never travels with his CD paraphernalia because he doesn't want to be embarrassed if airport security finds it. It seemed to me that that problem could be easily dealt with, but I didn't particularly want to encourage him to bring back women's clothing when he returns to town. It would turn me off; besides, he would make one hell of an ugly woman.

Interruptus

2009-12-14T19:09:00.000-05:00

So it's Friday, and I'm in my office, and it's kind of a slow day anyway, and nobody's around, and I happen to find myself on craigslist, where a young, Black, short, smooth man in D.C. has advertised for someone to do to him something that I would very much like to do, and I answer the ad, and he says that he's not sure there's enough time after I get off work, and I say that I get off work whenever I feel like it at this time of year, but I have to be done by 5, and it's almost 3:30, and he's not that far away, but there's traffic, and I'm not sure it's such a good idea, but then he says that he likes to make out, and I'm printing out directions and leaving the office, and then I'm swearing at the traffic, and I'm making up the route as I go along, and it's just after 4, and I'm knocking on Vim's door, and then I'm walking in, and oh my God he's so cute, and I grab him, and he was not lying about liking to make out.

Then we say hi, and I follow Vim to the bedroom, and I'm liking his hardwood floors with his clothes strewn everywhere, and he apologizes for the mess, but I tell him it's no worse than my place, and I kiss him some more, and he excuses himself to go to the bathroom, and I realize we're on a tight schedule, so I undress mostly, and he comes back, and I undress him entirely, and I put him down on the bed and climb on top of him, and we make out some more.

Vim's very thin but with very pronounced nipples, and later he tells me that when he was eleven, his nipples were equally pronounced, and he was worried about developing breasts, but then he didn't, and that's probably a good thing because they really wouldn't go well with his cock, which is not exactly small. But before that, I work my way down to his nipples, and I lick them and suck on them, and bite them, and he says, "Ow," and I lick them and suck on them, and he's very happy, and then we make out some more, and then he decides to go down on me, and, damn, he's got skills.

And then we make out some more, and then he goes down on me again, and I pull his ass around so that I can eat it, and, damn, I've got skills, and he totally loses his focus and sits up straight, and I reach up and twist his nipples while I'm eating his ass, and that goes on and on, and then he asks whether he can ride me, and who am I to say no to an eminently reasonable request like that? Except that I eat his ass some more, and he loses focus again, and then his phone rings, and he ignores it, but it rings again, and he answers it, and it's his office with some sort of emergency, and he asks me if I can hang out for fifteen minutes while he deals with it, but, damn, it's getting really close to five, and he feels bad for leaving me high and dry, but all that ass eating has left me feeling like I've had an eight-course meal, so I just really can't get worked up about the lack of ass fucking, and it's never as much fun as the ass eating, anyway, and he goes to make his call, and I get dressed, and I'm worried that I'll be late to pick up YFU, and I'm trying to say goodbye, and he puts the call on hold to kiss me goodbye and thank me for the nipple work and ask me when I can see him again, and I don't know or care whether he's sincere about that, but later that evening there's a call from him, and he says he wants to see me another time, and he makes me promise not to leave next time until after I've fucked him, and it's a promise I can make without fear of not keeping it, so I do.

Elmo's this cute Filipino guy who hit me up on one of the hook-up sites almost a week ago, but I wasn't available then, and I knew I wouldn't be available over the weekend until Sunday late afternoon, so last Tuesday or so, we agreed to meet late Sunday afternoon. And we talked a couple of times after that, but there was a slight difficulty with language, and I wasn't entirely sure that he was going to follow through. But I'd said that I'd play with him, so when I got a couple of other offers from guys that I really would have liked to play with, or play with again (as the case may be), I turned them down. And then 4:00 on Sunday came and went, and I didn't hear from Elmo, so I texted the one of the other guys who lives relatively close by, but he didn't get back to me right away, even though there'd been an email from him at about 3:30. And then I get a call from EFU:

EFU: Turnpike!
TED: You're on the New Jersey Turnpike?
EFU: Yeah, you said to give you a call when I was on the way.
TED: You couldn't have called from Vermont?
EFU: I'm spontaneous. Will you be home?
TED: Um, I'm not sure.
EFU: You need to be home.
TED: I thought you were going to go to your mother's house first.
EFU: I can't. Houdini's not welcome there.
TED: Who's Houdini?
EFU: My friend.
TED: Your friend? Do I need to come up with another bed?
EFU: Houdini has his own bed.
TED: What?
EFU: He's a hedgehog.
TED: Your mother won't let you bring a stuffed hedgehog home with you?
EFU: He's not stuffed. And he needs to be kept warm.
TED: You bought a real hedgehog?
EFU: Yeah, it's a surprise.
TED: Well, I'm surprised. I'll try to be home, but call me when you're closer.
EFU: OK, I'll call you when I get to the Beltway.

And then it occurred to me that I didn't know where my spare house key is, so maybe I'd better go to Home Depot and ~~cruise guys~~ get some spare keys made, but before I left, I called up Vim, and I left a message. Then I set off to Home Depot, and when I was about halfway there, Vim called back and asked when I was free, and I told him Monday or Tuesday evening were best, and he said he was free then but that he was also free RIGHT NOW, and didn't I want to come down RIGHT NOW and fuck him? And, oh boy howdy, I did, but I had to get the keys made, and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get down to his place, fuck him properly, and get back before EFU showed up with her hedgehog, so I very reluctantly put him off until Monday (which didn't work out: men, oy), and then I went and stood in line and got keys made and bought key chains and went to the self-checkout, where my phone rang, and it was Elmo who said that he was at Metro Center and on his way out to Glenmont. I told him to call me when he got there, and I finished paying, and I drove home, and I took a shower, and I got back in the car, and I drove to Glenmont, and he came out of the escalator, and he got in the car.

Elmo said that he'd been up since 4am taking someone to the airport, etc., etc., and he couldn't kiss me until he brushed his teeth. I got lucky when I found a spare unopened toothbrush at home, and he brushed his teeth, and boy howdy does that boy like to make out.

I had explained to him in the car that EFU was on her way home, but that she was probably still an hour or two away and would call when she was close, and he was all, "And your daughters know that you're gay?" I guess life is different in the Philippines. Anyway, we're making out, and he's a terrific kisser, but he also keeps stopping to ask me questions and tell me things and worry that EFU will be home too soon and jump whenever my phone makes a noise (it's a text message from the guy I'd texted earlier, and it says that he's an idiot -- duh -- because he just now checked his message), and the only way to shut him up is to suck on his nipples, which really drives him around the bend. He tells me that he doesn't want me to fuck him this time, and I tell him that's fine, but he's going down on me (skills!) for the second time, maybe sixty minutes into the session because there's so much making out (that's really, really, really not a complaint), and I pull him around and start to eat his very smooth, very nice ass, and he goes totally nuts and tells me not to do that because if I do, he won't be able to stop from sitting on my cock. I tell him that's a risk I'll just have to take because I can't stop from eating his ass, and I point to the condoms, and I go back to eating his ass, and, what do you know, he wasn't lying about having to sit on my ass, and he's bouncing up and down, and just then a couple of the slats from under the bed fall off the support, and I keep going, but then we lose another one, and I have to fix the bed, and he begs me to come back to bed, and I finish fixing the bed, and I lie back down, and he rides me again, and then the phone rings, and it's EFU's ring, so I have to pick it up, and she says she's half an hour away, and I tell her I'll be home, and I put Elmo on his back and push his legs forward, and I start to fuck him that way while I play with his nipples, and he's going crazy, and I keep fucking him, but I realize that I'm not going to cum that way, so I pull out, and we make out, and I work his nipples, and he's all wound up, and I tell him that we should probably stop and get dressed, and we do, and then we make out some more, and then there's a knock on the door, and we go downstairs, and he gets to meet EFU and Houdini, who is a very, very cute hedgehog.

And then I drive Elmo home, and he makes me promise that the next time we get together, I'll fuck him until I cum, and I'm never sure that's a promise I can keep, but after an extended kiss goodbye in his driveway, I make it anyway.

We Will Extend a Hand if You Are Willing To Unclench Your Fist

2009-12-09T20:35:00.000-05:00

Because of the weekend's shenanigans, I arrived at Monday having had no more than four hours of sleep during any of the previous three nights. I was so tired that I could barely stay awake on the drive home, so I determined to sleep rather than hook up. And I succeeded, though I did spend a fair amount of time on the phone with an excessively cute Filipino guy who seems interesting. It's a tiny bit, but not very, difficult to resist the urge to couple in a manner that lasts longer than a few hours, but then I always remember that I'm just not used to living alone again yet, and the urge passes. Still, I flirt with guys who are safe, like the cute Filipino guy who's only here on an extended vacation, or the partnered hottie in Alexandria, or the partnered sub from Baltimore. None of those guys is available, so there's no danger associated with an explicit email or phone conversation.

Anyway, I did manage to get to sleep by about 11 on Monday. I really must have been tired. I'd lugged my old TV upstairs and dug through boxes to find the DVD player and put on the second of the Bourne movies (I got a box set at the office holiday party exchange earlier in the evening, but I dropped off at the end. I think maybe Jason Bourne went to Moscow, and there may have been a car chase, but I wouldn't swear to either.

There's this guy who'd been wanting to meet me for a few weeks, and since he's going to be moving to Silver Spring and seemed like he might be a fun guy to hang out with, I invited him over on Tuesday night. As happens so often with hook-up scheduling, after I'd agreed to meet him Tuesday, a couple (well, three, actually) of more loin-stirring opportunities came up, but I really try not to play that game, so I told the other guys that I wasn't available. Ron (who, it should be said, was perfectly suitable for hooking up with; the other guys just had particular characteristics that would have revved me up slightly or somewhat more) was coming via Metro, and I told him that I'd pick him up at the station.

There were a couple of calls when he was on his way, and I realized the problem with my master plan: living near a Metro station is better than living five miles farther out in the exurbs, but to a guy living in DC, living in Glenmont is still pretty much the middle of nowhere. Oh well. I still like the neighborhood, and it's convenient to the places I have to get to. Anyway, I retrieved Ron from the Kiss and Ride and drove him to my place. He touched me lightly in well-chosen places on the very short drive back, and when we got inside, we began to make out. He had the sort of lips that are unfortunately common on white men, but he had very good technique. Few men are wise enough to go in occasionally for the passionate, open-lipped but tongueless kiss.

After a minute of kissing, during which time I determined that the evening was likely to be pleasant and comfortable rather than red hot, we went upstairs. I lowered him to the bed, and we made out for another couple of minutes. He needed to visit the bathroom, and I used the time to unbutton.

I'd forgotten to re-read the listing that originally brought Ron to my attention, so I was going merely on memory, which indicated that he was versatile. But I didn't think that we'd discussed nipple play or intensity or anything, so I was figuring that I should be gentle and vanilla. He did nothing to abuse me of this notion (real nipple pigs always ask for harder work), so while I got a little more intense, I didn't really go after them, even though he had the sort of moderately furry chest that I often associate with craving intense nip play. [I should rethink that. Guy #5 from the weekend, who got to about a 9, had a moderately furry chest, but the other 9 who springs to mind was smooth as a baby's bottom.] Anyway, we kept returning to the kissing, and it kept feeling very nice and very comfortable, and that was a nice thing after all of the intensity of the weekend.

As it happened, Ron was versatile, or at least orally versatile, because when he went down on me, and he took me so cleanly that I wondered whether he'd somehow lost his teeth (which, for the record, were not the removable sort, or at least I assume they weren't: not many guys in their late forties wear dentures these days), and I remarked, "Wow, your technique is so much better than mine." He said, "Let's find out," so I returned the favor. Fortunately, he had a very suckable cock: thinner and shorter than average, so it wasn't hard to do an adequate job with it.

Things continued along a predictable track, but when, after I'd eaten his ass for a while and he'd gone down on me again and I'd eaten his ass while he was going down on me (hey, I said it was a predictable track), he started to sit on my ass, the intensity suddenly ratcheted up a few notches. The boy likes to be fucked. He liked it when he was riding me, and he liked it when he lay on his stomach and I pounded him from behind and on top, and he really liked it -- loudly -- when I put him on his back and bent him so that I could pound the right spot.

But fifteen minutes of that was enough for me, and we went back to kissing while I jerked myself off to an intense and voluminous ejaculation that was nonetheless slightly less intense and voluminous than usual. But fun and very, very comfortable and nice.

I almost fell asleep after that. We were at opposite ends of the bed, and I was absent-mindedly stroking his legs while he played with himself, and I don't think I actually started snoring or anything, but it got very low key until he asked me how many fingers I'd had up his ass before I started to fuck him, and I told him it had been four (two on each hand, for the record), and he said that he'd had four fingers up his ass before, but he'd always wanted to go for five, and could I maybe help him out with that. So I got some more lube, and he took a hit on his poppers. He had an exceptionally pliant (though plenty tight) hole, and it was really not hard to get my five fingers and flattened palm partway into him. I couldn't get the fist clenched, and when I rotated my hand, he asked me to go easy on him, and it still seemed very relaxed, which -- as you might well guess -- is unusual for a fisting or even a near-fisting. And then suddenly, he started to get really loud, and I felt his ass clamping down on my hand over and over and over again, and he came like -- assuming the noise he made and what he told me afterwards were valid indications -- he had never come before. Intense. And fun.

Then I was awake, of course, but it was over. He'd been there nearly two hours, and he had to hurry to catch a train, so he jumped in the shower, and I washed my hands, and we got dressed, and I drove him back to the Metro station. Sadly, during the drive, he took the opportunity to complain about his tax problems and his tax accountant, and his stock plummeted, but nobody's perfect. Besides, it'll be a couple of months before he moves to Silver Spring, and how many comfortably cuddly cubbish guys who like to be fisted do I know, anyway?

Five Pairs of Nipples

2009-12-07T08:48:00.014-05:00

One man's poison is another man's drug, I guess. I was near the first and worst of this past weekend's five hookups, when, apparently, I got a little bit too aggressive with the nip play on the married submissive wannabe who froze and said that he wasn't as into it as he'd expected to be. I wasn't as into it as I'd hoped to be, but I'd done a pretty good job keeping that to myself. He put his clothes on and left, apologizing, but there was already a text message from Pedro asking whether I would like some company, so even if I had been of a mind to be annoyed (unlikely) by a flaky married guy with an unfortunate haircut (unlikely), there wouldn't have been time.

I was probably only at a level three on the nip-o-meter with that guy, anyway. Contrariwise, on Sunday afternoon, I was thinking to myself -- as I was working a solid eight-trending-towards-nine on the nips of the last and best playmate of the weekend -- "Damn, this kid's got talent," when he interrupted me and started to ask a question that made me interrupt him with "Too much?" only to have him say, "Oh, no, not at all. I was just wondering whether I should say 'yellow' or something if it gets to be too much." I laughed and said, "You could just tell me that it's too much" before biting down again and earning the moan of the contentedly anguished. It was hard to leave those nipples behind, but he was such a good kisser, even with his thin lips, that I sometimes had to. That guy was an embarrassment of riches, really. I'm afraid that I gave him a pair of nearly identical underarm hickeys before sending him back to his partner of eighteen years, who is a very fortunate man.

Hookup #3 of the weekend was a lot of fun in the sack, but he was some combination of inebriated and, well, not so bright, so that I had to spend about fifteen minutes on the phone with him talking him in from less than 0.2 miles away. My part of the conversation went something like, "You're where? No, you went too far. Make a U-turn, then come back a block and a half. My house is the one with the small, enclosed front porch that has a light on. Yes, stay on Randolph. No! You've gone too far. You're where? No, I'm on RANDOLPH. No, turn around, then get back to Randolph. Yes. Now make a left turn. Where are you now? Ok, now make a U-turn. I'll be on the right when you come back. It's the house before the house with the for rent sign. Yes, you can park in the driveway. You really should be here by now. You're where? No. You've gone too far again. Get back on Randolph. Yes, take a left. Now go down to the second left, make a U-turn, and DO NOT go farther than one block. Yes. I can see you. I'm in THE ONLY HOUSE WITH A PORCH LIGHT ON AT TWO IN THE MORNING. No. I CAN SEE YOU. I'M STANDING ON THE PORCH. YOU'RE HERE. NO, STOP! BACK UP. YES. PARK BEHIND MY CAR IN THE DRIVEWAY." Except it was twice as long. I don't know, maybe he was just trying to get me worked up so that I'd be rougher on him. Maybe it worked, but he really could just have said, "I like it rough." Why do people have so much trouble saying that? There are five sets of sore nipples wandering around Maryland this morning because of my weekend activities, and only one of those sets of nipples got that way by admitting that it was what their owner wanted.

I stayed up really late this weekend playing with various guys. Guy #4 called me at 3:30 am Saturday night/Sunday morning, and after we'd talked a bit, he said that he wanted to come over. He was coming from the Chinatown area of DC, so I expected him to be about an hour, what with showering and all, but he hadn't shown up by 4:45, so I turned off the lights and sent him an email of complaint and went to bed. At 5:15, my phone rang again, and he said he had arrived but was having trouble finding the house. At this point it occurred to me that maybe I am playing too much with guys who require the lessening of inhibitions associated with a) late night and/or b) striking out at the bars before they're willing to actually hook up with someone. Guy #4 seemed like the type never to go to a bar, so it was probably just the late night and it having been a month since he'd hooked up. But damn he was cute, and after I'd made his nipples sorer than they've probably ever been, he insisted on getting fucked, even though I'd reckoned (aloud) that his ass was way too tight for my cock to get into. I guess it had been longer still since he'd been fucked. He certainly seemed to enjoy it. Also, he left his hat behind, and it's always nice to have a trophy.

Pedro had some trouble finding his underwear when we were done, and I encouraged him to leave it behind as a trophy, but he wouldn't. Pedro frequently texts me to ask whether I'm setting up a group, and I've gotten to the point where I usually ignore him, but I'm glad I let him come over Friday night. He's always pretty intense with the frot, but few people have ever quivered quite so extravagantly as he did when he came on Friday.

Guy #4, by way of example, didn't quiver nearly so extravagantly, but he was much louder. I had gone down on him for something under a minute, and that was enough to bring him very close, so I was going to stroke him off while chewing on his right nipple, but I'd favored the right nipple, and it was too sore, so I got on the other side of him and chewed on his left nipple while stroking him off. He shot with such force that I was reminded of the blood spatter from a decapitation in a Kurosawa film (I can't remember whether it was Throne of Blood or Ran just now, and there may be a nearly identical blood spatter in both films, except, of course, that it would be in b&w in ToB and in color in Ran. Update: It was Ran:

Also, the atmosphere in my bedroom was significantly more fun than the atmosphere in that clip, and nobody's house got burned to the ground after the cumshot.) Most of the cum ended up in my hair, but some of it cleared my head and hit the top of his. I asked him whether that was a typical ejaculation for him. He just laughed and said, "Hardly." It's hard to imagine that I'll see him again, though, given how long it took him to get to my place.

I had hoped to have another go round with my psychic fuckbuddy this weekend. I ran into him (he manages a jewelry store) when I was out shopping Saturday, and he insisted that I hang around long enough to have lunch with him. We were coming back from the Peruvian chicken place, and I said something about his nipples, whereupon he sprouted wood right there in the mall. I couldn't stop laughing, and he kept insisting that it wasn't funny, but, well: come on, it's pretty funny. We were alone in the elevator for twenty seconds of making out that didn't do anything to soften his situation, and then I said goodbye to him in the parking lot. Later that evening, he blew me off. I had thought that we had made concrete plans to meet. He texted me at 7 to say that he'd be calling me "soon," and then I hadn't heard from him by 10:30 and texted him to say that I thought our definitions of "soon" were different enough to make us socially incompatible. He called me to apologize, saying that he'd been on the verge of calling me when I texted him, but I realized, as we were talking, that there was just no point, so I snapped the phone closed, and no more psychic. I'll miss his nipples, but there are, obviously, plenty of other nipples to make sore.

It occurred to me, after I hung up, that my current single status leaves me slightly vulnerable to being too easily fascinated with men who don't deserve to fascinate me. Awareness is the first key to a cure. I don't miss b&c per se (I still see him all the time, anyway, and on days when I'm not stopping by to bring him groceries or pick up a package, he typically calls me. Last night, for example, he called to say that a car had crashed into the side of his house. Apparently, it was a Toyota with a stuck accelerator. Fortunately, his bushes took most of the damage, so the house was relatively unscathed.), but I haven't quite learned to deal with being alone in a new house on those days when YFU isn't staying over. Mostly, I've been dealing with that feeling by hooking up, and while it doesn't bother me at all that I can't keep track of all the guys I'm playing with, I probably should work on finding guys who are available at more regular hours, just so I can get some sleep. There is something a little bit attractive about fatigue-based incoherence, but the costs outweigh the benefits in the long term.

Not Dead Yet

2009-11-02T16:25:00.003-05:00

Forgive me readers, for I have sinned. It's been almost a month since my last confession.

And this isn't going to be much better I'm afraid. The movers are coming on Thursday, I'm overwhelmed with painting and packing, and I have to go to the opera tonight. It's the hat trick of despair! Plus b&c is home all the time now, so there's almost no opportunity to hook up. But that all changes Thursday, and I'll be sure to let you know all about the presumably much increased sluttishness going on in my new home. Though, to be honest, I don't know whether I'll spend the weekend in bed exhausted or in bed getting further exhausted. Time will tell.

For now, I should mention that a couple of weeks ago, b&c was out of town, and YFU was unexpectedly at her mother's on an evening when I'd expected her to be with me, so I posted a craigslist ad, and there was almost no response (on a Friday!). So I went to sleep, but I couldn't sleep very well, and when I woke up at 6am (on a Saturday! Morning!), there was a response from a local guy who described himself as 5'10, 170, muscular, and very eager to suck cock. The response had come in at 3am, so I was sure he'd be asleep, but I wrote back, and he was up. He wouldn't send a picture and he wouldn't call, but I could tell from his emails that he was overly discreet rather than crazy, so I gave him an approximate location and told him to text me when he got there, and then I directed him the rest of the way in.

Gorgeous, thick-lipped, narrow-waisted, bubble-assed Black guy! On the one hand, I was a bit surprised that he hadn't mentioned his ethnicity, though maybe he just assumed that I was cool with any ethnicity because of my statement in the ad that ethnicity is not an issue for me. I just now thought of that. Up until this moment I was thinking that he'd been taking a risk and that he was just lucky that my reaction to finding out that a guy is Black is to thank the universe, but I guess I'd already conveyed that. Anyway, he was a very eager cocksucker, but he was also a great kisser, and the smooth ebony body certainly didn't hurt. He was there for about two hours, and we went through three condoms (alas, I didn't shoot three loads: we just kept losing them via aggressive pounding) after I'd eaten his ass thoroughly. Awesome!

I might also mention that on Saturday, when I was meant to be painting all day, I went all the way over to Arlington (Virginia! I must have been reallllly horny.) to hook up with a guy who contacted me on one of the web sites. He may have had the nicest pair of lips I've ever encountered on a white man, and boy did he know how to use them. He also had nipples that loved being worked, and, well, I worked them. It was one of those slow and comfortable, yet intense, sessions that worked its way out very leisurely until I'd eaten his ass for a while and he mounted my cock. Then he got carried away. He stroked off a load while he was riding me, then he lay beside me and kissed me while I stroked off one of my own. He said something about my not having to leave right away if I didn't want to, so after we wiped up a bit, we chatted for a while, then we started to make out again, and before I knew it, I was wearing a second condom and he was riding me again. He apologized for not being able to cum a second time, but I really didn't mind. He has a partner, and he only plays when his partner travels, but his partner travels a lot. He wants to play again, but I'm torn. On the one hand, truly awesome sex with a great kisser. On the other hand, Northern Virginia! It's a toss-up that might go the other way once I'm in my own place and able to have guys over pretty much whenever I want.

4-0-4

2009-10-05T00:13:00.000-04:00

B&c was out of town most of last week, flying down to Colombia on Monday and back on Friday. I'm not sure I quite understand the concept of flying to another continent for three days of work, but whatever, right? He hadn't been out of town much, so I figured I should take advantage of his absence, even though in a week or two (Or eight: God only knows when I'll get around to moving. I kind of wanted to add a shower to the upstairs half-bath that will abut my bedroom before I move, and I have a feeling that project will get quickly out of hand.) I should be able to hook up in my own place on a sluttishly frequent basis, if I so choose. I will likely so choose.

Anyway, last Thursday, I should have gone to choir practice, but I knew that the choir director had deputized one of the altos to run practice for her, and I figured it might be a frustrating evening, so just before I left the office, I posted a craigslist ad, figuring that if it was a good evening for responses, I'd have them by the time I got home.

And I did have a few, including one from this guy who's been bugging me to dominate him for months and months. Maybe as long as a year. I guess I should go check. Hang on a sec. Yes, original contact was made in response to an ad I posted on or about September 14, 2008. And -- oh -- my initial response to him was, "I don't think we're a match." But then, according to the ~~fossil~~email record, he contacted me six months later, and I was less dismissive.

Anyway, since March, this guy's been pursuing me (or at least my cock) with somewhat dogged determination, usually asking to be used by me and my friends. But the timing was never right. But his was among last night's replies, and since I hadn't posted for a group scene, I figured either one-on-one or group would work, so I told him to come on over. He said he was an hour away. Now that's a guy who wants cock. Around the same time, three other guys said they wanted to come over, so I gave them my cell phone. One guy never called and a second decided not to come after I told him -- when he did call -- that he wouldn't be the only one coming (he texted me today to ask whether I was looking again tonight), but a third was eager to come over and get pounded whether I had company or not, so I gave him directions. Then I sent a text message to Pedro, whom I hadn't played with in a while. Pedro eventually texted back to say that he could make it, but late. I was hoping to be done before Project Runway started, but I figured I could always watch the 11:30 rerun.

The first guy showed up just before 8. He was a bit smoky, but cute and very eager and a good kisser.

And oh, motherfucking hell. I wrote all of that more than a week ago, and then attempted to update the time references, and blah, blah, blah. I am never going to have the time to give this entry the attention it deserves, so I'll break it down for you:

Good kisser guy and I go at it for a while.

Sub wannabe shows up and joins in a bit on the periphery. Mostly he sucks my cock. I shove his head up and down on it a bit.

Half an hour later, sub wannabe gets up, gets dressed, mumbles something about "too much smoke," and leaves. Don't let the door hit you on the way out! More importantly, don't lock it!

Pedro's running late, so I go ahead and fuck good kisser guy, who loses his load while he's on his back and I'm pounding his prostate. He jerks me off some, in a desultory manner, but when Pedro finally comes up the stairs, he repeats that he has to get going. I don't mind: Pedro's more fun.

Pedro's kind of tired, so we make out for a while, and then the frot starts. Eventually, I lie on my stomach and pull him on top of me so that his cock is wedged into the upper part of my asscrack. Boy howdy does Pedro love that. He writhes for a bit, and every so often I squeeze my cheeks together. He cums: low volume, but he's very excited. I realize that I had forgotten how much I enjoy feeling the weight of another guy on my back. It's kind of like getting a massage and leaves me feeling very relaxed, if not aroused. Pedro gets dressed. I go to sleep.

The night before, Pedro had sort of stood me up. It was a Wednesday, and YFU wasn't over for some reason, so on Tuesday afternoon I texted Pedro to see if he wanted to play. He did, and, as always, he wanted a group scene, so on Wednesday I put an ad on craigslist looking for a third and a fourth. And then, after I placed the ad, Pedro texted to say that he had to work and would be later than expected. And I spent the next hour explaining to guys responding to an ad for a group scene that I wasn't sure the versatile guy would be there. Alternating with texts from Pedro asking whether the other guys would be there. I tried to explain to him that I was in a bit of a bind because the other guys were only coming if he was coming, but that I wouldn't tell them he was coming if he might not come, even if every other guy who's ever advertised on craigslist has no trouble doing that very thing.

After a while, I threw up my hands and went to the supermarket and then the county liquor store. My favorite boxed Australian Shiraz was on sale, and I sat in front of the TV with some cheese and crackers and the Shiraz and watched Glee. Then I read for a while. It was great.

On Tuesday night, I had another foursome involving two married guys and Nike, whom I hadn't seen in forever. It was fun, and it went for about 2.5 hours. I forget most of the other details, though I do remember fucking Nike. He finally has his own car, so after we were finished, I was able to fall asleep instead of having to drive him home. Yay.

I think that's about it. I did spend about forty-five minutes this past weekend fucking Torless. He hadn't had any in a while, I reckon. It was fun, but not especially remarkable. Torless is always fun, but not especially remarkable.

I'm hopeful that normal sexual activity and reportage thereon will resume after the move, which should happen soon before or after the extended individual income tax deadline. Something to look forward to.

Bezos

2009-09-21T07:17:00.001-04:00

B&c's Colombian boyfriend was visiting this weekend, and that was a lot of fun because he's cute and friendly and, well, cute. He speaks very little English, and I speak almost no Spanish, so communication was somewhat complicated. I can sort of decode written Spanish since the etymology is so similar to French, and when I tried to explain that to him, he said that he spoke a little French, and then we had a perfectly decent conversation in French, after which he either decided that he would rather not be understood or he lost confidence in his French skills. Most likely the latter, which was unfortunate since his French was better than his English, and my French is miles ahead of my Spanish. But whatever, he was still cute.

Throughout the weekend, he kept staring at me, with some intensity, and at first I figured that he was wondering whether I resented his presence in the house. I would have liked to reassure him, but how do you pantomime "I have no problem whatever with your fucking my partner; in fact, I would greatly appreciate your fucking him since I'm not fucking him any more, and it would certainly help his mood; furthermore, feel free to sleep with him, just give me a heads up so I can move my reading glasses to the other room"? And don't tell me there's a video of someone pantomiming that very thing on YouTube: do you think I didn't check? By the way, if you've lost your voice but still need to tell your butcher that you'd like him to trim another quarter-inch of fat off the pork loin, I can hook you up.

But then, occasionally, he'd be next to me to show me something or for me to show him something on the computer, and he'd push against me forcefully enough that it couldn't possibly have been an accident, and I started to think that maybe he was flirting with me. Which seemed slightly odd, but not really all that odd, and, besides, it felt really, really good. B&c and I are pretty much physically estranged these days, and he was never all that good at cuddling or anything like cuddling, and the sort of body contact I get when I hook up (which, in any case, has been happening rarely) is very different from, say, the sort of enchanting-but-not-necessarily-erotic body contact that you might get from a friend who is more physically expressive than I am. I should probably work on being more physically expressive in non-overtly sexual ways, but the list of things that I should work on is already very long, and "be more physically expressive in non-overtly sexual ways" is simply too cumbersome to be on a list with items like "exercise more" and "stop losing socks." As if.

Anyway, Saturday was a very frustrating day. On Friday afternoon, I'd been driving home with YFU, and I'd heard the noise I'd been hearing in the front of my car, but it was much louder than it had been. So on Saturday morning, after b&c, M. and I had stayed up until nearly 1 watching Milk (with the Spanish subtitles on), I got up at 6 to take my car to the shop where I spent five hours and $801. getting new brakes. I'd hoped to spend at least part of Saturday at the office, but between the shop and then shopping with YFU, the day got away from me.

B&c and M. got back from tromping about DC around 6:30, and we all had dinner, YFU disappearing to her room to watch old episodes of Bones on the Internet. We sat at the table draining bottles of wine (most of them were more than half-empty to start with: we were just cleaning up, really) and chatting for a while, then M. and I did the dishes. B&c claimed exhaustion and went to bed, and M. and I retired to the den. He picked up a Spanish novel that EFU had left behind and began reading, and then we chatted a bit. We had to keep looking up words in the dictionary, and when he'd find a word, he'd sit on the arm of the armchair and lean into me and show me the dictionary, and then I'd say "Si" and we'd smile. I thought, "Okay, he's interested," and he was still sitting on the arm of the chair, so I slid my arm around him and squeezed a little bit, and he leaned in against me again, and then he stood up, smiled, and said, "Buenos noches" and went up to his room, stopping to look back at me and smile as he turned the corner. And then I thought that he was simply being friendly and that was probably just the way Colombians are. It was a little confusing, but so much fun. I'd enjoyed the flirting a great deal, and I wondered briefly whether that's why people date. I've always assumed that people date out of some sort of defect of character, but I suppose there is an upside.

The next morning I was singing with the choir at church, so I only caught a glimpse of M. wrapped in a towel coming from the shower before YFU and I had to leave. I figured that M. and b&c would use that time to get horizontal, even though b&c may have said that their relationship had become mainly non-sexual. It's kind of hard to keep track: he works in several different countries, and he has something like a part-time boyfriend in most of them, and I'm not interested and/or diligent enough to remember which ones are dinner companions and travel guides and which ones are dinner companions and travel guides who also pound him senseless. I would like to think that most of them fall into the latter category, but b&c seems to be relatively happy not to have sex with any of his guys, except probably me.

Anyway, we got back from church, YFU returned to her computer, and I went off to the office for a couple of hours, then I took her back to her mother's, and came back home. I took a walk and then read some more, and M. and b&c returned -- after another day of tromping about -- around 6. B&c made dinner in the kitchen. M. and I were in the den, and every once in a while, he'd get up to go to the kitchen or come back, and he'd walk behind my chair and squeeze the back of my neck. Then we had dinner, and more wine, and b&c went upstairs to pack for his trip to Colombia. M. was already packed for his trip to NYC, so we sat in the den and attempted to chat for a bit. He asked me what my favorite song was. It seemed easiest to take him into the office and show him. I opened YouTube and showed him Patsy Cline singing "Crazy" and he showed me what he said was some typically Colombian music, and I showed him the opening scene from Diva with Wilhelminia Wiggins Fernandez singing an Aria from La Wally. He showed me Nat King Cole sining "Quizas, Quizas, Quizas," and I showed him a clip from Strictly Ballroom with the Doris Day version, and all through that, he was massaging my neck and then my shoulders and it really seemed as though he were being more than friendly, and when I stood up, he reached up and grabbed the back of my neck again, and I reached over and did the same to him, and then we heard b&c coming down the stairs, and we separated and I sat back down and pulled up "Girl from Ipanema."

B&c went back upstairs, and I stood up and leaned down and had one of those first kisses that would in any event have been awesomely delicious but which was made much more so by all that teasing. It surely didn't hurt that he has full soft lips, or that he's short and thin and dark and lovely. We stood there and made out, and there was a beautiful ebb and flow to it. He'd moan softly and then there'd be an increased urgency, and I'd suck on his immense lower lip, and he'd bite down on mine, and I'd pull him into my arms, and then we'd hear a noise from upstairs and separate. The whole teenagers-not-wanting-to-get-caught-by-Dad vibe made it all the more enticing. When we'd separate, he'd often sit in the chair at the computer, and I'd massage his neck and shoulders, and he'd melt a little and then lift his head to look back at me, and I'd bend down, and we'd meet in an upside down kiss, each sucking on the other's lower lip. I ran my hands down over his chest and squeezed his nipples through his polo shirt and then gently stroke the side of his face. I could see him tenting his jeans, but I thought it wise not to reach that far down just then.

We did that off and on for half an hour or so, and every moment of it -- the kissing, the roaming hands, the sudden separations -- was heaven. Eventually, b&c finished packing and asked M. whether there was anything he could take back to Colombia for him (M. will be getting back there while b&c is still there.), so M. went off to get a few things, and I went back to the Den and picked up my book. I figured that b&c would be tired and would turn in pretty soon, and then I'd have a chance to get M. into a more compromising position, but I also figured that a) that might be a little bit awkward, and b) I'd already had a great time, and it isn't often that I get really great clothed making out, so I was already ahead of the game.

B&c and M. settled in the living room to talk for a bit, and it got to be about 10, and M. appeared in the den and said, "Buenos noches" again. He blew me a kiss and went upstairs. B&c stayed up for a few more minutes, but then said he was exhausted and went to our room. I smiled, thinking what a fun evening it had been, and flipped on a rerun of whichever one of the Law & Orders Christopher Meloni is on. Christopher Meloni, mmmmm. It would have been nice, I figured, to get M. naked and find out whether he had the small, dark, uncut cock that must surely have accompanied his small, dark, smooth body, but the kissing really was all that.

Of course, half an hour later, he snuck downstairs in his underwear, and we had really tremendous sex -- and I'm not complaining about that, mind you -- but it was almost beside the point.

You Get a Little Drunk and You Land in Jail

2009-09-15T12:18:00.008-04:00

So the other day, I'm running through my various gmail accounts. I have six of them, and it takes about a minute to check all of them, unless there's an actual email demanding my attention, like maybe I need to send a recipe to EFU or remind one of my married sub cocksuckers that it will still be a couple of weeks before I can host again or explain to Bank of America any unusual charges out of my bank account last month, which makes me wonder whether using my debit card to spend $12 for condoms at CVS is going to cause my lender to abandon me in my hour of home ownership. But this time around, the only email I had was a notification that I had a new message on one of my facebook accounts, and the name of the person who'd sent that message was suspiciously identical to the name of that guy that I spent the night with once, maybe six months ago, and who subsequently spent three months as a guest of the DC prison system.

And my immediate thought is, "Oh, shit, this guy's pissed off that when his fiancee -- whom I did not know to exist -- texted me to tell me that he was in jail, I thought he was texting me and joking around, and now he's going to hunt me down and disembowel me for telling his girlfriend that he's gay. It's a good thing I'm moving soon. I hope b&c doesn't give up my new location under torture." But then I log on to facebook and it's just a "Hey, how's it going?" or maybe a "Hey, what's up? message," and part of me says, "Just walk away, TED. WALK. AWAY." But another part of me just can't help trying to figure what the hell is up with this guy, so I write on his wall or whatever and then I search a couple of email accounts until I figure out which one we used to correspond under, and it's not the email account linked to that facebook account, which makes me think that he must have found me by searching by (phony Internet) name. And I don't think my (phony Internet) name is all that uncommon, so there are probably TEDs all over the place wondering who the hell Rafael (Is that what I called him? Who can remember?) is and why he's writing on their walls.

There's no way in hell that I'm communicating with anybody via Facebook, though, so I send him a generic what's-up e-mail, and he writes back, that he's good and how am I, and I check his Facebook profile, and it says that his status has changed, over the past few days, from married to single to it's complicated. Complicated: understatement much? And after a couple of emails, he writes that he's almost got his license back and that he's in a relationship and doing some side jobs, so I write back to ask whether that's with his fiancee, and he replies, "Wife, actually," and I'm about as WTF as I've ever been at that point, but after "Wife, actually," he writes that sometimes he just gets the urge for that little something, which prompts me to ask whether he doesn't mean an urge for a big something, and he says something about liking to be stretched, but that he hasn't had any for so long that he's just sooooo tight right now, and I can't help asking, "But didn't you get plenty of thick black cock in the D.C. jail?" Which in many contexts could be considered a rude question, but, seriously, didn't he?

But Rafael doesn't seem at all nonplussed, he just writes back that the 90 days of hell was meant to be 30 days, and he says that he doesn't remember telling me that he was going to jail, but he doesn't seem angry, either. I reply that someone else told me, and I ask whether the incarceration was related to his meth addiction, and then he loses his cool a bit: the non comes off the nonplussed, but he doesn't actually use either "nonplussed" or "plussed," so I am robbed of the chance to say, "LISTEN YOU MANWHORE COCKSUCKER, I DON'T ESPECIALLY MIND THAT YOU WERE ENGAGED AND TOLD ME YOU WERE SINGLE OR THAT YOU STOOD ME UP REPEATEDLY WITH BOGUS EXCUSES OR THAT I NEARLY SHIT MYSELF WHEN I REALIZED THAT I'D JUST TOLD YOUR FIANCEE THAT YOU'RE GAY OR EVEN THAT KNOWING THAT SHE WENT AHEAD AND NOT ONLY DIDN'T DUMP YOUR SORRY JAILHOUSE ASS BUT ACTUALLY MARRIED YOU OR THAT YOU WENT ALONG WITH IT AND MARRIED HER EVEN THOUGH WE BOTH KNOW THE ONLY THING YOU WANT IS TO BE PLOWED FROM BOTH ENDS UNTIL YOU PASS OUT AND THAT YOUR METH ADDICTION MEANS YOU CAN'T GET IT UP IN THE FIRST PLACE BUT I WILL NOT SIT IDLY BY WHILE YOU CREATE INCORRECT BACKFORMATIONS, DOUCHEBAG." Besides, that wouldn't, strictly speaking, be true: I am still sort of upset about the back and forth with his fiancee. The rest of it, well, shit happens, you know? Especially the standing up with lame excuses part. And, really, in my experience, when someone stands you up, you just switch to Man B, and Man B is more often than not more fun than Man A. Men that bail on you at the last minute tend not to be all that great in the sack.

Anyway, he sends me a couple more messages about how he was in jail because he assaulted a cab driver who called him a faggot and about how he only smokes pot, and not even that since January, but he's never done meth, and I need to "get [my] shit/story straight," but I'm back to being some combination of a) slightly scared of him and b) grateful that he apparently doesn't know what I said to his fiancee. I'm hopeful that I won't hear from him again, but it's more likely that he'll send a few more emails. I reckon I'll just have to tell him that I already have enough married guys in my line up. I'll probably avoid adding that none of them do meth.

Cub

2009-09-08T18:18:00.007-04:00

Wow. Talk about your long dry spells, readers. Nowadays, when I hear about sex, I think, "Wow, that sounds vaguely familiar. Isn't that something that maybe I used to do ALL THE TIME?" But opportunity there has been little of. B&c was meant to go on a four-week business trip to scenic Guyana, but when he was on his way out to visit his daughter and son-in-law in Denver, he ripped his rotator cuff while lifting his carry-on luggage off the conveyor belt at the x-ray machine at the airport. Or so he says. I was all, "Dude. I don't care if you got injured while you were tied to some guy's bed, table, or garage door, even if you never asked me to tie you up. It's your shoulder," except I didn't say that out loud because he probably did tear the rotator cuff lifting his carry-on bag, and how sad is that? Checked luggage is your friend, people.

Anyway, he's been around all the time, but I haven't wanted to fuck him for various reasons, including not wanting to injure him, but mostly just because I think it'll make the whole moving out process easier in the long run. Even though there are times when I walk by him in the morning while he's standing naked at the sink and feel a twinge of something like desire. Ok, something exactly like desire, but it's made a good deal less painful by the knowledge that what I really most want to do -- sink to my knees, spread his cheeks, and eat his ass -- is something that he's not at all into. I feel like I've said all this before, but I find that when I haven't had sex in a while, my thoughts get stuck in unhelpful patterns.

So this past Saturday, I'd come to the office to get caught up a little bit on my mountain of work, and I may have happened to look at the craigslist ads, and I may have read an ad from a guy who called himself a cub and who said that he had a papa bear coming over later in the day and that he (the cub) wanted either other tops to join in or other tops to play with him separately. And he may have mentioned a particular interest in dominant tops. And apparently all this actually happened because we exchanged a few emails and then a phone call and then I was on my way to his hotel.

Well, it wasn't quite that easy because he'd said that he really wanted to engage in some roleplay, and OH MY GOD, fine, yes, ok, I will do your silly little roleplay, boy. I mean, what the hell, right? Because good sex isn't good enough, without pretending that it's something that it isn't. I really don't want it to sound like I was annoyed by the request, it's more just that I was rolling my eyes. I mean, it's easy enough to do roleplay when you're engaged in cyber or phone sex, but if you want me to pretend to be a policeman, well, I don't have the uniform, and I can't really fake it enough to be a credible cop. But there are plenty of other authority figures, so I told him to be clean and naked when he opened the door, and that I'd take it from there.

I had a description of this guy, and I'd spoken to him on the phone, and I'd seen an anonymous, from-behind photo, but I didn't know exactly what to expect. People mean very different things when they say "cub." Often it just means anybody who wants to play with a bear, but in this case, it meant a cute, fit, thirty-two year old with abundant reddish-brown hair all over his face and body. Yum. I could see all the hair, of course, because he was naked when he opened the door. I introduced myself as the hotel manager and said that I'd had numerous complaints about noise and about all manner of men coming into his hotel room at all hours and that I very much resented being pulled from a comfortable bed where I'd been having a good time and being forced to come to the hotel to evict a guest and can you think of any reason why I shouldn't toss your ass on the street?

And he started to answer, but that was when I shoved him down on the bed, climbed on top of him and started to kiss him. I mean, role play is fine, but there are limits. After a few minutes of that, I did remember myself enough to tell him that he needed to be punished and to spank his very cute and perky ass until it was nice and red before kissing him again and starting to work on his nipples. I also managed to insist that he give me the typical, "Thank you, sir. May I have another?" after each whack with the belt, but it was mostly pro forma.

But, you know, pro forma is really enough. He seemed overwhelmed in a very good way by the whole experience. And he was a really good kisser. He had a great, soft mouth and good technique, and when I bit his nipples or pinned his arms down or licked his pits or shoved my jeans-covered crotch in his face, he always seemed to be right on the edge of too much, and that was clearly an edge he liked.

Eventually I got my clothes off and pushed him down to my cock, and, wow, great head. The soft mouth appeared to be connected to a throat without a gag reflex. He seemed very, very happy, but he didn't complain when I pulled him off my cock so that I could kiss him some more and then pin him down again. The next time I let him go down on me, I put his ass right in front of my face so that I could play with it and eat it, and he pulled off the very neat trick of clearly going into his extra happy place without stopping the suction. Awesome. We stayed in that position for a while, my alternating fingers with tongue, and then we made out some more until he begged me to fuck him. In his emails, he'd mentioned concern about being able to take my thickness, but I could tell from the fingering that a) he could take it, and b) he'd be eager to take it.

I teased him a little, but then I let him sit on it, and he was over the moon. I worked on his nipples while he bounced up and down on me a bit, then I put him into X position for a bit, but there wasn't a whole lot of time, so I moved him onto his stomach and lay on top of him, fucking him that way, and then I finally put him on his back, shoved his knees up to his face, and pushed into his hole and right up against his prostate.

I knew it'd be sensitive from the way I'd played with it when I had two fingers inside him. And I knew from earlier warnings that I couldn't play with his cock too much or he'd cum right away. What I didn't expect was that after just five or six minutes of fucking him that way and listening to him talk about how much he loved it, I'd be close to shooting myself. I almost never cum in that position, even though it's my favorite way to fuck. I warned him what was coming, continued to pump for a bit more, gave a shout, and filled the condom. After I was finish jerking from the intensity of the orgasm, I grabbed his cock, which was still hard, and gave it a few pumps. He'd already been pretty close when I started, so it wasn't a shock when the first watery blast came out of him and flew halfway up his chest before a thicker wad of semen shot out and hit his beard. So much fun.

I continued to stroke him until he was shuddering from the sensitivity of his cockhead, then I pulled out and lay beside him for a couple of minutes. Then we chatted a bit, and I jumped in the shower and then got dressed. He was dressed, standing up, and thanking me for coming over, and I pulled him too me and kissed him softly for a while, told him that the pleasure had really been mine, and left, heading back to the office.

Between work and the move, it may be a while before normal sexual activity resumes, but I'm sure that after I move, I'll make up for lost time.

Do You Receive?

2009-08-30T23:27:00.005-04:00

Just in case you ever need to know, if you're ever reading a hook-up site in Montreal, and you see "Je ne peux pas recevoir" or the literal English translation, "I cannot receive," it doesn't (necessarily) mean that ass of the guy in question is too tight to accommodate your cock: it means that his wife, partner, or roommate isn't cool with him trying to accommodate your girth in their house or apartment. AKA, "I can't host."

Although I wasn't able to post an ad on Montreal craigslist -- because of a bizarre computer glitch -- I had mentioned on another hook-up site that I would be visiting the second-largest primarily French-speaking city in the world, and a number of men had contacted me to ask whether I would be able to receive. Sadly, there was no meaning of the word for which I would be able to answer the question in the affirmative. My hotel room was on a different floor from the room YFU and EFU was sharing, but I didn't fancy the idea of bringing strange men back to the hotel and up the thirty-eight stairs to the second floor. Besides, the bed was so terrible that I was only managing to sleep on it with the assistance of two camping mats. They were rather slippery entities, so I was pretty sure they wouldn't hold up to any manner of energetic sexual activity.

Fortunately, there was one guy in particular who seemed interesting and who had his own apartment not far from a Metro station. He had written me in English and asked whether I spoke French, and I had painstakingly written him back with reasonably correct grammar and accents to say that I would happily speak French with him and read his French e-mails but that I would prefer to write in English. He turned out to be a translator, so that was no problem. He also said that he was a submissive bottom who liked "uncomplicated" (i.e., NSA) sex, and that was even less of a problem.

I didn't want to cut into my time with the girls, but they were in the habit of retiring to their room by about 10 to read, watch TV, surf the Internet, etc., so I told Jean-Claude that I'd happily come to his place to play so long as we could do it either late or in the early morning (the girls rarely woke before 11). He was busy in the mornings, but we settled on Wednesday night as a time that was suitable for both of us.

I was later getting started than I would have liked, so I ended up taking a cab from the hotel to his place. Montreal taxi meters go up by increments of 5 cents, and they, not surprisingly, do so very quickly. The fare is, apparently, based on both time and distance so that if you're at a red light, the fare increases by 5 cents every four to five seconds, but if you're speeding down a main thoroughfare, the increments happen every two seconds or so. This didn't seem like an unfair arrangement, but it was very distracting.

Anyway, I had gotten out of the cab, paid and tipped the driver, and been buzzed into the apartment building, and Jean-Claude leaned out of his ground floor apartment door to beckon me. He was still dressed, but nobody's perfect. He said hello, and while it was clear to me from our correspondence and even a half-second's glance around his apartment that he was a person of considerable education and refinement, I still pulled him to me and began to kiss him immediately, just as I'd have done if we'd hooked up at my place back home. It is, of course, important to follow local customs, but when you're dealing with a submissive, it's more important to establish toute de suite that you'll be setting the agenda.

J-C was a responsive if not enthusiastic kisser. I wondered briefly whether the extreme lingual reticence was a cultural phenomenon that's widespread among Montrealers, but it seemed easier to just keep kissing him and not worry about the limited tongue contact. Lots of American guys are way too eager with the tongue, so it's not such a big deal if Canadians like to keep their tongues more to themselves, I reckon. I stopped kissing him long enough to let him declare himself pleasantly overwhelmed by my forthrightness, then I ushered him into the bedroom and pushed him down to the mattress resting on the floor.

I was kissing him again and working on his nipples with my hands, and he expressed a desire for both of us to be naked, so I started to undress him and then let him undress me. Voilà: naked. Then I went back to kissing him, soon moving to licking and sucking his nipples. He seemed very unused to that as well, but not at all ambivalent in his appreciation. Around this point I began to hypothesize that J-C while cute, was probably somewhat shy with men and probably didn't have nearly as much sex as he ought and perhaps had taken the opportunity of a visiting top to try something he wouldn't often experience otherwise.

Certainly, he was an eager but not especially skilled cocksucker. And when, sometime later, I told him I wanted to eat his ass while he went down on me, he acted like a child being offered a new and especially desired toy. And, of course of course of course, I loved eating his ass. It was a bit on the small side, but it was very firm, and he really got into it.

A little bit later, I worked a finger into his ass, and it was immediately apparent to me that I would never get him to loosen up enough to receive my cock, so I went back to working it with my tongue, then I pulled him down on me to kiss him some more, and after a bit more work on his nipples -- I could tell they were getting sore: awesome! -- I lay next to him, and we kissed while we both jerked off. When he was very hard, he was still a scant five inches and not at all thick, so I couldn't resist sucking on his cock. As usual, though, that became thoroughly resistable after about forty-five seconds, and we resumed the side-by-side jerking position. He came first, of course. And he watched with awe as my load shot all over me. I used the last of his Kleenex trying to clean it up.

We lay there for a minute or two, and I attempted to chat with him, but I could tell he wanted to get to sleep soon. I rolled over to start getting dressed, and I noticed that he was reading L'Elegance de l'Herisson, a recent French novel that even I had heard of. He offered me some water. I accepted it and remarked favorably on his very comfortable, very crowded living room. He had a painting that made me smile and somehow reminded me of Virginia Woolf. It was a gift from his sister.

Then I asked him for directions to the Metro station (Guy-Concordia), which was not far away. He was fun, but he was only worth a one-way taxi ride. Besides, it was a nice night. I took the metro back to Berri-UQAM and walked the five or so blocks back to the hotel.

Four More

2009-08-23T16:33:00.000-04:00

I cut the cockring pictured above off a guy who was in my bed at home, but I didn't take the picture until I was in Montreal. I had stuck the ring in the pocket of my shorts at some point, and then I was in a Montreal buanderie (laundromat) where my clothes were in one of the dryers, and when I looked in, I saw the rubber O, upright, running along the tiny ledge at the back of the giant tumbler, like a hamster on its exercise wheel.

The guy I cut it off had answered a craigslist ad that I'd placed at the last minute when it turned out that my daughters were going to be spending the Friday night before we left on vacation at their mother's house rather than over here. (B&c was in Colorado, visiting his daughter.) I texted my buddy Pedro, who'd been asking to come over when I could host, and he said he'd come over, but also asked, as I'd expected, "How many guys will be there?" He's a more is more kind of guy, so I told him it might be just me, but I'd see what I could do. So I placed the ad.

By the way, I tried to place an ad in Montreal, but my ancient laptop couldn't display the graphics that CL uses as a spam filter. Alas, but I really didn't have time anyway. I did manage to hook up with a guy who had contacted me from a site dedicated to that sort of activity, but that's another story.

Anyway, I had the usual collection of serious and non-serious responses to the ad. I'd told Pedro 8:30, which is what I'd told the other two guys who seemed most likely to show up, but Pedro texted me around 7:30 to say he'd be getting there closer to 9, and John, who was coming from all the way out in some place like Upper Marlboro, called just before 8 to say he was running early. He was about five minutes away at that point, and I told him to come on.

John had told me that he wanted to be dominated. And, well, let me be blunt: I'm not getting any younger, and these days I mostly feel like dominating a guy when I've had plenty of sleep. What I mean is that it's always fun to pin a guy down on spank his ass or work his nipples until either he's begging for mercy or I can see that he wants to beg for mercy but won't. It's a desire that's always inside me and can be induced. But it's not active, without induction, when I'm sleepy. In those cases, I'd really rather make out some and then maybe get a nice blow job and jerk the other guy off while I'm eating his ass. Or something like that. Still, even though I rarely get as much sleep as I should these days, I might place the ad during a particularly wakeful period when I'm more in the mood for domination. And, in any case, when I say I'm dom, I always get a better response, so it usually just seems like the way to go.

And dominating John was pretty easy. He was furry and fleshy, without being fat, and he had pretty nice nipples, that I had my hands on almost as soon as he was in the door. And he kissed well, and he gave amazing head. And he got very excited when I answered my cell twenty minutes into our session to talk to one of the other guys who wanted to come over and needed directions, and he heard me say, "Yeah. I'm great. I'm getting some really good head right now." When I had him pinned to the bed again, he told me that he'd never had another guy come and join him during a session. "Guys tell me it's going to be a threeway, but then nobody ever shows up." I explained, in between bites on his nipple, that men who respond to craigslist ads are notoriously unreliable so that it may have been that the other guys who had arranged group sessions had simply not had other guys show up. But I also opined that men who post ads on craigslist are also notoriously unreliable so that they may simply have lied to him about the threeway in the first place. He didn't really say much, but that may have been because my teeth on his nipples seemed to make it difficult for him to concentrate.

At some point, probably after the second time I complimented his truly fine oral skills, he told me that when he was twelve, his stepfather had made him go down on him. I was a little shocked, even though I probably shouldn't have been, but all I asked him, after a brief hesitation, was whether he'd liked it. He said that he had. And now, of course, I wanted nothing more than to learn more details about his sexual history, but it seemed like the wrong time to bring it up, so after asking whether his stepfather had ever fucked him (he had, but only a few times, whereas he'd asked for -- and gotten -- oral sex on a weekly basis), I just went back to pushing his head up and down on my cock, which was, in its own way, very gratifying.

I'd been eating his ass (always a pleasure) for a while when the phone rang again, and it was Pedro saying he'd be just a little bit later. I told him the door was open. John said that his cockring was getting uncomfortable and began to try to remove it, but then asked me whether I had a scissors to cut it off him. I happened to know, from recent cleaning activities, that I had no fewer than three pairs of scissors in my top dresser drawer, so I leaped up, got a pair, and carefully snipped through the rubber that he was holding away from his cock.

We were making out some more when the doorbell rang. At first, I didn't bother answering it because I'd told both of the other guys who were coming that the door would be open, but when it rang again, John worried aloud that the other guy would leave, so I headed downstairs, figuring that it was the new guy (hereinafter "Fourth") because surely Pedro knew by then that the door is always open during a group session. Well, unless someone who comes in locks it, which happens from time to time, but I knew it wasn't the case this time. But it was Pedro at the door. I was a little bit exasperated, but I just pushed kissed him and pulled off his clothes and then pushed him up the stairs. He and John were immediately taken with each other, so I let Pedro climb on top of him for a while and make out with him while rubbing cocks (Pedro loves the frot above all else.) before climbing up behind Pedro and rubbing my cock along his ass crack. John thought that I was fucking Pedro, and that made him (John) really hot. "Oh yeah, Daddy's fat cock is fucking you now." Whatever, but it was fun.

We'd been at it for a while when Fourth appeared in the bedroom and undressed. At the time, Pedro was going down on me, and John, who magically became versatile when Pedro showed up, was standing next to the bed and fucking Pedro. I pulled Fourth down and started to kiss him, and John and Pedro moved to the side of the bed. Over the next twenty minutes or so, they took turns fucking each other while Fourth went down on me. Then, when John was lying on his stomach and Pedro was rubbing up against him, I pulled out of Fourth's mouth, and this time I did fuck Pedro, albeit briefly.

John and I had been going at it for nearly four hours when he finally came in Pedro's mouth. He hung out very briefly, but then he got up and went to the sink to wash off and began getting dressed. I was making out with Fourth, and Pedro was behind me. At one point, he acted like he wanted to fuck me, but I told him, "Dude. There is no way that's going in me. I never get fucked, and if I were going to start, it wouldn't be with something that big." He laughed. All he really wanted to do was rub his cock up and down in my crack anyway, so I let him do that for a bit, and then I pinned him down, and rubbed my cock against his while I kissed him. It only took a minute, and he came. He left shortly afterward.

Fourth was going down on me again, and when I said, "Damn. You really like sucking cock, don't you," he replied, "Yeah, but I like getting fucked even more." And I was all, "Good luck with that, bud. I've been going at it for almost 2.5 hours, and I think I'm too tired." But I was mistaken. Fourth went down on me with renewed vigor, and a few minutes later, I had him on his stomach, and then on his back, all the while ramming into him as if I'd just woken up after a full night's sleep. But I hadn't, so we only went at it for ten minutes or so before I pulled out and kissed him while I jerked first him and then myself off so that there was cum all over him.

And then I really was pretty beat. It was all I could do to follow him into the shower and then dry him off and watch him dress and make sure the door was locked after him when he went down the stairs and out. I was still wet as I stumbled to the bed and fell asleep, content the way you are only when your loins have been freshly emptied.

Virtue Rewarded

2009-08-13T23:21:00.004-04:00

Patience is a virtue, right?

There's this Latin bi (meaning gay but in denial: bi doesn't always mean that, but this time it does) guy who'd been saying for nearly a year that he wants to hook up with me, but who never followed through, usually citing work as an excuse. And I guess he does work a lot. He's a veterinary tech, and he works two jobs, but I'd offered him the chance to come by after his late shift, even if it meant coming around at 2 am, and he always found a reason not to. I figured nothing was going to happen, but I reckon he got hornier and hornier until his need for dick overcame his reticence. He'd been asking more and more insistently over the last few weeks, when I couldn't play, but this past Sunday, b&c was driving his mother back to NJ (she'd been down for a visit at the same time his son and daughter-in-law and infant grandson had come up from Atlanta, and my ex-wife needed YFU to do something for an extra couple of hours, so I told Migs that I could play. He said that his car was in the shop, but when I volunteered to pick him up, he said that would work.

Migs lives in the next town over, but out in the exurbs that's a hike, so after I went and picked him up from his parents' ginormous place (five acre lot, I reckon), I got to fondle him while driving him back here. I was relatively subtle about it, mostly working on his thighs and barely brushing against his briefs, but he was all wood right away.

Migs is a smooth, slightly chubby, early thirties guy, and that's something that really works for me, especially with Hispanic men. I drove in through the garage, since b&c was out, and squeezed his shoulders as I maneuvered him towards the stairway. I moved to his ass, of course, as he started to climb the stairs.

I barely broke stride to remove my glasses and cellphone before pushing him down on the bed and climbing on top of him. Nice lips, and the sort of good technique you expect from a guy with a girlfriend who probably doesn't let him go all the way with her. And eager? Oh my, yes.

But also quiet, so I had to go by subtle cues. I certainly prefer a man who's vocal with his appreciation when I bite lightly (or not so lightly) down on his nipple, but the quiet, sudden intake of breath and the slight stiffening of the body, particularly when followed by eager kissing when kissing resumes, also gets the message across.

We only had about an hour, and I figured it might be difficult, given how long it had been since he'd been fucked, to get him opened up, but I still took my time. I waited until the second time he went down on me before I got between his legs and buttocks and began to lick and then tonguefuck his very hot, very clean ass. I worked a couple of fingers in, and I could tell it was one of those asses that's very tight but still opens as wide as I need it to.

His lack of verbalization continued when I started to fuck him, and I had to decide for myself how quickly to push into him by watching his face and the tightness of various muscles. I pushed it a little faster than I might have, but, hey, he didn't say anything, and when, after the initial round of penetration, I pulled out to give him a break, he asked me to fuck him again "only not too hard," so I did. I had him on his stomach at first, then with him astride me, then on his side with one leg bent to his chest, and then on his back with both ankles pushed towards his ears. He ejaculated some that way, and it's always hot to fuck the cum out of a guy, but I figured he had more, so I lay next to him and jerked him off while we kissed. He came very quickly, and with much more volume. Then I jerked myself off most of the way, stopping to let him pull the trigger. Volcanic.

We got in the shower and played a little more, and then I drove him home. He got almost chatty. I reckon I'll see him again, but it'll probably not be any time very soon. That's ok. I'm patient. Patience is a virtue, right?

Truck Driver on the DL

2009-07-27T18:29:00.015-04:00

I was driving the other day when I heard on NPR the E. Lynn Harris had died. I had no idea who E. Lynn Harris was, but then I listened to the rest of the piece, and it turned out that he was an author who first brought the concept of Black men on the downlow to wider attention. A couple of days later, b&c, freshly back from Haiti, mentioned Mr. Harris' death and said that he had several of his novels upstairs. I mentioned that the NPR reporter had said that the novels were entertaining but had no literary merit, and b&c said that he concurred with that assessment. Novels with no particular literary merit and containing reasonable amounts of hot mansex are some of my favorite things, though, so I'll have to read one sometime.

I'm told that there are still plenty of men on the downlow, and I guess it's one of those cultural phenomena that I don't quite get. I mean, it makes sense if you're in, say, Alabama, but if you're an unmarried fifty-year-old in suburban Maryland, who are you hiding from?

I probably should have posed that question to Bounty, my Saturday morning hook-up. [A couple weeks back: I wrote most of this entry maybe ten days ago, and then I forgot. Sue me. I don't mean that literally.] He'd hit me up several times on Adult Friend Finder, but he'd always wanted me to come over to his place at an inconvenient time. Originally, I'd thought he'd said those were the only times his wife was at work when he wasn't, but he later said that it was when his roommate was out. He also never wanted to drive to my place, even though his profile says he's a truck driver. Of course, his profile also says that he's looking for women. And it said that he was Black, but his picture looked more like that of a Filipino. It's all very confusing. After having met him (and, especially, after having seen his apartment, which really, really looked like two single straight guys lived there) and having fucked and talked with him, I think the real story is that he has a roommate who doesn't know that he's gay. Maybe it's his brother.

Anyway. I got a message from him Saturday morning saying that he'd like me to come over, so over I went. He told me that he'd leave the front door unlocked. He lived in one of those multi-level condos that heavily resemble a townhouse that are so common in Germantown. I locked the door behind me and walked up the stairs and through the living room to another room where he was sitting at the computer, playing solitaire. Handsome. He didn't look at me, so I walked up behind him and ran my hand from his head down over his t-shirt to his nipple. It was nice and perky when I squeezed it, so I slid my hand inside his t-shirt and squeezed it a little bit harder. He said we could go upstairs. He stood up, and I followed him, pulling his sweatpants down as he ascended. He had a nice body, but I couldn't help noticing, with very mild regret, that it was more a white guy's body than a black guy's body. (He also had relatively light skin, but who cares about skin color? Unless maybe a guy's got jaundice, which is probably a turnoff. I've never had sex with a Celt, but I reckon blue would be okay, but there might be laundry issues.) By which I mean that the narrowing from the chest to the waist was not as pronounced, and his ass wasn't quite as bubblicious as one might have hoped.

But he liked to kiss, and he was skilled at it, so it was all good. I grabbed him and we tumbled together on the bed, and before long I noticed that he liked to kiss with his eyes open. This was unusual and, at first, a bit disconcerting, but I got to like it pretty quickly. He obviously liked the attention I was paying to his nipples, even if he wasn't especially vocal. As is so often the case, my inability to wait until I have a guy undressed before throwing him on the bed and going at him came back to haunt me, but neither of us was wearing all that much, so we got from clothed to naked with only minimal interruptions in the making out and nipple play.

At first he seemed hesitant to stop kissing, but once he started going down on me, he really got into it. He'd told me when we chatted on the phone that the only thing he hadn't done was have a guy cum in his mouth, and he seemed a little bit worried that I might be the first, but I reassured him that he was in no danger of that. And then I told him to let me eat his ass, and while he didn't stop sucking my cock, he seemed to forget everything else.

When he seemed a little overwhelmed, I pulled his head off my cock and up to my face, and we made out some more. I put him on his back and lay on top of him, my cock nudging against his nuts and then down in between his buttocks. We kept kissing, our eyes still open, until I felt precum all over his cock, and then I rolled off him, grabbed a condom from my pocket on the floor, handed it to him, and told him to put it on me and then have a seat.

It is always a good thing to introduce another guy to the X position, and he liked it as much as most men do. We wriggled together in the X for a while, then I pulled him up and he rode me a while longer, then I pushed him on his back, bent him in half, and gave him the full-on prostate pounding that I so enjoy until his eyes rolled back in his head. He didn't cum, though, and I eventually got tired, so I rolled off him, took his cock in my hand, and kissed him while I stroked his load onto his chest. I continued to play with the cockhead, and he shuddered, but he didn't stop me. Then I lay on my back, pulled him close to me, and kissed him and stroked myself until I shot onto his shoulder and into his hair.

We took a few moments, then he pointed me to a roll of paper towels, and, you know, whatever: I guess he doesn't like to do laundry. Even then he didn't say much except, "Maybe we can do this again sometime." I told him that would be great. I haven't heard from him since, but he seems likely to follow through eventually. Maybe when he's done with a long haul or something. Anyway, he was fun.

B&c's been around since then, so I haven't been hooking up very much, even though we've decided that I'm going to move out. My major concern about being single is that men are generally more attractive when they're coupled, so maybe I'll get less sex. On the other hand, there'll be a lot more opportunity, and really, there are plenty of guys who'd have more sex with me now if I were more available, so I'd guess the frequency will actually increase. It'll probably be at least three months before I'm in my own place, but b&c is travelling a lot between now and then, so there should be ample opportunity to play.

In particular, all of the members of my last fourgy expressed an interest in playing again, so maybe that will eventually become a regular Tuesday night thing. Like a bridge group, only more fun. I like bridge, though, so maybe I can find three other guys who want to play before they play. In the long run, I'd like to mix other social activities in with my sex life, so something like a poker night orgy would be cool. I suck at poker, but maybe that would compensate for how little I suck cock.