The Last Hurrah

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

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


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

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


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


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

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

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


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


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


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


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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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

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

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

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

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

Leo

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

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


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

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

Dude.

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


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

Dude.

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

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


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

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

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

Rubbed

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

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


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


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

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


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

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

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

The Men Who Don't Get Any

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Still Plowing Away

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ridiculous

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

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


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

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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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

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


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

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

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



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

Pretty

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.