11/16/09

Ah, my old pal. From high school. The one who never got into my pants. Or was it the other way around? We once, under interesting circumstances managed to play a game of footsie - or maybe crotchsie/footsie is a better explanation. (Yes, there was alcohol involved.) So we'd sort of had sex. A little bit. Partially. We'd reconnected through someone who knew someone on Facebook, and I was delighted to get a message from him that he was coming to town for business purposes and wanted to see me. Immediately, my mind raced to games of footsie/crotchsie.

We met up late after work, and after he'd managed to find a church for a quick round of worship. (Me, I worshiped at my gym to kill time while he did the real thing.) I didn't take that as a good sign. We hadn't even seen each other in nearly 25 years - save on Facebook in recent months - so I knew little if anything about what he was thinking these days. We met up, he was looking good. The years had been kind to him, for sure. His slightly alternatively good looks had matured and become more mainstream. His hair had thinned, but in a way that said: 'testosterone is doing a number on my hair follicles' not 'I'm falling apart'. He was even more attractive than in the 1980s.

It turned out I had no reason to worry about religion having taken over his life. He immediately proposed we retire to a bar. A couple drinks later, food seemed in order, so we repaired to a restaurant known for its drinks. And had another drink and some appetizers. Alcohol was having a nice mellowing effect, turning up the warmth of our long dormant friendship. It was also making him kind of touchy/feelie - he'd touch my arm for emphasis as we spoke, or rest his hand on my shoulder or wherever it might seem appropriate. No, nothing untoward, not yet. But boy did he have my mind running in that direction, and running hard.

We wandered off to yet another restaurant for another drink and another round of hors d'ouvres. I had detected a pattern here: each place we went was getting us closer to his hotel. And at the third place, he began to wax ecstatic about the view from his hotel room. Bingo! I would surely have to come up and see. No question about it. After polishing off a few more snacks, I commandeered the waitress and demanded the bill while my old buddy was in the men's room. Yes, I considered following him. But no, I didn't want to be that obvious, and he didn't seem to be actively inviting it. So I stayed at the table and took care of the bill in order to smooth our way out of there.

Swirling the last ice cubes in my drink I casually inquired whether we needed to hit a fourth watering hole. I meant this to be an opening for him to say: 'how about you come check out the view in my hotel room?' But he fumbled the opportunity. Maybe alcohol was to blame - I, for one, was fairly well lit at that point. Sufficiently lit that when he fumbled it, I didn't even need to screw up my courage to say: "Or we could head back to your hotel." I was briefly mortified to realize I hadn't even thrown in the view excuse. But no matter, he quickly took me up on the offer and we were out of there in a flash.

His conversation become somewhat stilted as we entered the hotel. He seemed nervous as a cat - even if half-smashed genial - in the elevator. Up in the room, the view was indeed expansive, through a glass corner. Quite nice. He reclined on the bed to admire it, I sat on the corner of the bed. Now I was being the awkward one. Yes, imagine that. Your old pal Mr. Cocksearch being reluctant to make the first move. Maybe something about the weight of history. So it wound up being he who made the first move by inviting me to get comfortable on the big hotel bed. And when I did, laying next to him, pretending to look at the view, he reached for me. He grazed his knuckles across my chest, pausing to give attention to my nipple. He didn't say a thing. I rolled toward him and the race was on.

It started with a lip lock, moved on to shucking our clothes, and progressed to me blowing him. But that didn't go well, despite the heavy passion in our kisses. He, being a tad middle aged, wasn't getting all that hard. I mean he got bigger, but not really rigid in the usual way. And it was clearly bothering him, and causing him to shy away from my attention to his cock. The good thing was that he seems pretty submissive in the face of available cock. He was pleased to just worship mine. He wasn't much of a cocksucker, clearly inadequately experienced. But he made up for it in enthusiasm and absolute adoration of my big dick. His tongue kept creeping lower on my balls. Is this going where I hope it's going? Does he totally want to eat my ass - because he's totally got an invitation to go there.

I telegraphed the invite with enthusiastic moaning and groaning every time his tongue went lower. He finally got the nerve to instruct me to roll over onto my stomach. Won't fight you there, pal. And what followed was what seemed like hours of the most adoring attention my backside ever got. My cheeks were fascinating to him as his nerve built (or maybe thought ought to be - as his inhibitions slipped). After an achingly tantalizing build-up, he went for it, right onto the target. And he licked and sucked and tongued and on and on like he never wanted to stop. And I didn't want him to, either. Except that at some point I'm gonna need to cum.

I finally begged him: "I've gotta cum here . . . let me cum." He let me roll over and flopped onto the bed on his back. I got the message. He wanted me on top, so on I climbed and stroked out a HUGE load all over his chest and his face before collapsing onto him in an extended lip-lock tasting of sperm. God that was good. We lay around all snuggly for a while. He made no move to get himself off. The real surprise was that he wanted me to sleep with him that night.

But I don't do well sleeping in others' beds, and I had to be up the next morning. I begged off, feeling like I was letting him down something terrible. In fact, I still kinda regret it.

I left him at the door with a big, deep kiss.

He was on a plane home the next morning.

Undated - Fall/Winter 2009

Ah, the restaurateur. The well-known restaurateur. The one with the TV show. And the wife, who's all over the restaurants (which really are worth the fuss - I'm a good customer) and the TV show. Watching him, you can't but conclude he likes boys - his manner is unmistakably sodomite. Indeed, there's vigorous debate on the interwebs as to whether he likes boys. And I have the answer. He does.

The restaurateur goes to my gym, occasionally. One of those occasions happened to be a dreary Sunday afternoon late this fall - or maybe early this winter - somewhere in there. The restaurateur was heading into the gym just ahead of me, close enough that I was able to spend a few moments mulling over 'which way does he go, anyway?' Frankly, I can't look at him, be it on TV, on the street or in his one of his restaurants, without mulling that important question. Little did I imagine today was the day I'd get a rock solid answer.

In the locker room, he undressed and appeared to head straight for the shower/steam/sauna. A good sign. Nice slim, athletic bod - particularly for a guy in the food business. Nice I suited up and headed for the weights. Call me virtuous (or, read some more of this blog and see if you can still say that with a straight face). Half an hour or so later, it was my time to shower/steam/sauna. The place was fairly empty, it being a dreary Sunday afternoon. I settled into the sauna, where I chatted with Mr. Taste Free for a few minutes (he and I now chat in a familiar way that pretty much rules out any more anonymous blo-jobs). Then I made for the steam and was surprised and delighted to see the restaurateur passing by toward the showers looking well heated and sweaty. Maybe he eyed me. 'Ha, spending a lot of time in the company of other sweating naked men, Mr. Restaurateur? Got ya!' I thought to myself. In my mind, at that point, he was as busted as could be.

I settled into the steamroom with one other guy sitting by. A few minutes later, in walks the restaurateur. And he sits down next to me, to my left, but at a respectable distance. On his towel, not wrapped up in it. Wow! I switch on my full telepathic communication capability and start beaming the message "exit the steamroom, now!" at the third guy in the steamroom, while simultaneously beaming the message "the other guy will be out of here in two seconds" at the restaurateur. And sure enough, my telepathic systems were in good working order, as the third guy left pretty much on cue.

Then began a few moments of awkward mutual checking out, and the sending of self-groping signals. But progress was swift, with no unnecessary face-saving gestures of disinterest. He wanted it. He wanted it in a sad, guilty, but very passionate kind of way. He was the first to actually take hold of his cock and start stroking. He reached for me before I reached for him. And he reached first not for my cock, but for my right nipple, which he wanted to stroke. I responded in kind, with my tongue on his nipple (safe bet he was a nipple guy) and moved on to the side of his neck. And he responded with a happy shudder, and began groping my cock as I reached for his. This was a lot of body contact, and a lot of passion for steamroom sex. My right hand (by this time I was completely turned toward him on the bench) found his cock - long, skinny, with short trimmed pubes - and stroked gently. He was clearly enjoying himself hugely.

I whispered in his ear, an inch away: "do you want a blo?" to which he responded with a quiet, husky sound that I took for a 'yes'. I bent down, and took one long slow gentle stroke. We were suddenly interrupted by the door opening. "It's OK, don't stop for me." Mr. Taste Free! Very considerate, thank you, pal. I went down on the restaurateur again, and he lasted but about three more strokes before urging me off his cock. Two pumps of his own hand and he spewed - good distance and quantity for a middle-aged guy, I might say. I went back to nuzzling his neck as he caught his breath.

He gave me a long look, with actual eye contact, that was tinged with what I think was sadness. Or maybe straight out guilt. And then he was out of there. When he was safely out the door, Mr. Taste Free asked me, with his charming Spanish accent: "you do know who that was?" I played dumb.

11/11/09

It should always be this easy.

Early morning visit to the 'burbs. Really early - my errand is done by 7:00 am. And I'm in the vicinity of the recently rediscovered bookstore. As I'm heading south down the big six-lane road it's on, I come to the bookstore and see its parking lot is all but empty - about the only vehicle in the place, a Dodge Dakota pick-up, is idling at the mouth of the parking lot waiting for traffic to clear so he can pull out. Darn, only one guy there, and I'm just missing him. I pull a u-turn and head back north again. The Dakota guy pulls out just as I round my U-y, and catches my eye. Yes, catches my eye. No way. That would be way too efficient.

But it's also way too good not to at least follow up. I wind up just behind him in traffic, then maneuver my way next to him at the next light. I glance casually his way, and he mine. But too casual to really draw any definite conclusion from. Good enough, though, that I'm not going to give up. I fall in behind him, and sure enough a couple blocks later he's got his signal on for a left turn. And he activates the blinker early, giving me plenty of warning he's going to turn. This is looking promising.

I follow him around the turn (and catch the above pic) and he goes on about a quarter mile into an industrial area. And then, again with plenty of signaling, he pulls into a parking lot along the side of a warehouse/office building and proceeds slowly down the long narrow parking area. I pulled to the side of the road, not being quite confident enough in my judgment to follow him. He pulls head into a parking spot, sits a second, then backs out again and continues to where he had to turn around behind the building. When he turns, he stops long enough to give me the idea he's looking. I plunge in.

On the other side of the building, I find him backed in in front of a freight forwarder's office. I nod, he nods back. My first clear look at him. 40ish, heavy-set, a working man. Married, with ring. Not particularly attractive in any noticeable way. I pull in and park. He nods again, and I'm out of the car and over to his passenger window directly. No games: just a simple "You looking for a blo?" "Yeah, hop in." As I haul myself into the passenger seat he says: "I thought you were looking for something back at the bookstore." "Pretty amazing we got this worked out, huh?" He heartily agrees.

He's got his hard cock out already, and pulls aside his shirt to show it off. "Nice!" It is nice. Short, but really fat. Cut. And plenty of unruly untrimmed pubic hair. He gives it a good wag and urges me forward. His crotch smells sweet and soapy fresh. Two minutes of good vigorous sucking, and some purposeful thrusting from him and he's spilling a big sweet load into my mouth. He thanks me heartily as I swing out of the cab and spit his hefty, tasty load. I give him a salute and thank him back, noting for the first time the kiddie car seat in the back of rear seat. Daddy needed to nut.

He dropped his idling truck into gear and was moving out of there before I even started my car. End of story.

Undated - Fall 2009

Ah, the lost month and some . . . when I wasn't blogging actively, and wasn't keeping track of my exploits (and also suffered a nasty cold, some nasty work demands, and a hundred other excuses - really, readers, I was just burned out.). I've reconstructed from emails some of my activities. But there were some that did not involve emails, so I can't give you exact dates. And I don't have pictures, which I always try to get. Apologies.

The rediscovery of two bookstores, sometime this fall, date unknown: there are two XXX bookstores out by our local airport that I hadn't been to in several years. At one time, both had abundant gloryholes, and a thriving suburban customer base. Both have gone downhill significantly in recent years. One had suffered lots of police harassment in its tiny highly corrupt suburb. The other had suffered greedy, controlling owners. At least five years had passed since I'd darkened the door of either place.

Being out that way one day - and with some time to kill - I got inspired to check them out again.

I hit the first place, once a ten gloryhole joint, but in recent years reduced to one or two that would get covered over or not, one never knew when. And reports of lots of police presence. I went into the booth area and was greeted by two very friendly Mexican guys - the place is in a heavily Mexican area. Too friendly. Like I think they're probably hustlers. Unlikely looking hustlers, too - one was a short, well-built 40ish guy wearing a huge cowboy hat and cowboy boots and full cowboy regalia, the other maybe 30, big, and dressing all hip hop. But I avoided them. I'm not one to play the blowjob-for-a-price game, even in ranchero or cholo guise. I reflected their presence might explain police interference in recent years.

I was pretty much ready to leave after a short while, as there was no promising traffic. But as this thought formed in my mind, in walked a guy, probably 55, kinda middle managerial looking and wearing a wedding ring. Glasses, hair slicked back. A little better looking than the average guy, but not too much. Very Eastern European looks. Without really looking at anyone - very straight ahead gaze - he went directly into a booth and mostly closed the booth door. I hustled right over to seize the advantage. The door stood open enough that I could see him standing, staring intently at the screen, not looking back. After a few moments, I pushed the door open a little further. He did not react. So I stepped inside. He looks up, catches my eye and nods. I mince no words: "You looking for a blo?" "Yeah." The deal is sealed.

I sink directly to my knees as he hauls out . . . a huge, beautiful uncut cock. I mean fat, and long. Probably a true 7, and thick. Thick enough it didn't look all that long. Nice untrimmed bush. He takes the seat, and I commence a good 10 minute blo. I'm so loving this dick. And the guy's good, encouraging me with murmurs of enjoyment, guiding my head to maximize his pleasure; and he's considerate of my gag reflex. He builds up audibly to his orgasm, and floods my mouth with a huge, seriously flavorful load. This whole thing could not have been better.

Evidently he liked it too. He inquired whether I lived anywhere nearby, and specified that "the wife" doesn't put out. Sadly, I live too far away from him to be convenient, but when I told him I'd meet him here at the bookstore anytime (I'd drive 20 minutes for that cock any time of day or night) he brightened up and solicited my phone number. I didn't blink before giving it. He entered it into his cell phone's contacts along with my name.

And then I never heard from him again. Damn.

A couple weeks later, encouraged by my return visit to bookstore one, I tried bookstore two. These two XXXs are located a couple miles apart on a seedy commercial strip the likes of which inspired Lady Bird Johnson to launch her Beautify America campaign. Cheap hotels, car dealers, gas stations and fleabag apartments. Nasty. Just the place for a XXX.

This second place has the strange distinction of sharing a building with a car mechanic's shop - the kind of a shop that has lots of guys milling around out front while their beaters get patched up enough to last a few more months. At 11:30 am, the bookstore's long, narrow parking area was completely full - I had to wait for someone to leave to get a spot. Amazing. Lunch hasn't even started.

Inside the place was just as congested. But it's not a promising crowd. All the gloryhole booths are occupied. I hang around a bit, and manage to get into two of them. No reason to stay long in either, if you know what I mean. Lots of guys standing around, waiting for their shot at the holes. One was a tall pale skinny string-bean guy wearing a sweatshirt with the logo of one of the nation's leading Catholic universities. He looked about 35. Dweeby as all hell, but not unattractive. He kept checking me out, but I was feeling not interested.

Then he moved into a non-hole booth directly across from where I'd been reduced to leaning against a booth (the place was that crowded - milling about was not really feasible). He fed the machine and left the door open enough for me (and several other guys, given the density of the crowd) to watch him paw his sweatpants. And the pawing is showing something interesting. Big, I think - though in my experience big bulges can often disappoint. But this one's transfixingly big, at least in this preliminary stage.

What the hell, I gotta check this out. I step into the booth, close the door and reach for his crotch all in one smooth, easy motion. Goddamn! It feels as big as it looks! I reach past the elastic of his sweats to grab this monster - and in my hand, it doesn't disappoint, not one bit. I haul it out and sink straight to my knees without asking further. A monster it definitely is. Almost freakishly large - I'd say a true 8" or more and extremely fat. It looked completely out of place on this tall skinny guy. But that wan't stopping me. I went down on him and sucked for all I was worth. He wasn't super rock hard - really big dicks usually aren't, I've found - but wow, what a mouthful. I stretched my jaws and relaxed my throat as best I could for a good 5 minutes. This was competition level cocksucking, I tell you.

At some point I clearly got tired, and he encouraged me to stand. Which was nice, as it gave me another vantage point from which to admire his enormous meat. He reached for my hard cock when I stood - I'd been jerking the whole time I was sucking him. He stroked me a couple times, and then dove on my cock, sucking like a champ. A fine cocksucker, which came as a surprise as he just didn't look the type. And a good surprise as I was (1) already close, and (2) needing to get on with my day. I decided to give him my nut. I gave him plenty of auditory warning before I started to cream, but he reacted to my shot by pulling out and spitting suddenly. What a downer to go from a great blo to cool air and vigorous jerking.

Not a good finish. I was out of there and on my way within minutes.

8/29/09

Oh, yeah. Trevor was fun. But I was out in the 'burbs. And that means the suck woods. Oh yeah.

I pulled into a spot I know is good. It's an unusual one, as it's just a parking lot off the side of the road, not particularly remote or anything. This day, it was busy - legitimate park use kind of busy. Very rare, but somebody had a big picnic going. I've no idea why they'd choose this place. But there they were, occupying the bulk of the area. I drove the length of the lot, and parked in the turn-around, just to check whether there was maybe something residual going on. Made a quick phone call and reviewed some email while I checked things out. I concluded that no, the picnickers were pretty much sucking up all the oxygen. Time to move on.

But before I could get off the phone, an older red Sedan de Ville rolls by with a younger guy in shades at the wheel. Maybe 30, longish dark hair, and a little heavy from what I can see. He gives me an unmistakable look and keeps rolling. I think I catch a glint of gold off his hand resting on the steering wheel. He drives slowly past the picnickers toward the front of the parking area, and backs into a space. Not even subtle. I followed, parked head in across from him and walked over, approaching his car obliquely to afford myself a view into the driver's seat. Yeah, I probably wasn't too subtle, either. At least not to a knowledgeable observer.

But my lack of subtlety was rewarded: he's got his hand in his crotch, covered by his T-shirt. Score. I stood, unsubtly, on the curb about 20 feet away - trying to look nonchalant -as he glanced occasionally in my direction - also trying to look nonchalant. After a minute or two he drew aside the T-shirt and flashed a hard fat short upward-curving cock. A thick, vital beauty. I walked directly over to him (he'd covered up again) and unsubtly asked him: "you looking for a blo?" He nodded yes, and then made sure to tell me he didn't do this kind of thing very often. Oh, so that's why you don't know any of the cues?

That's OK, though. He's cute and kinda guilty seeming in a really ordinary way. Italian, as confirmed by his (and his wife's) name on the stack of mail on the passenger seat. Yeah, I did see a ring. A short discussion follows. He's mostly mono-syllabic. But we agree this place is a little busy. He suggests we head down the road a ways, and I tell him I'll follow. About a mile down the road, he pulls into another parking area with me in tow. This place is fairly deserted, except for a number of cars backed in . . . . OK, I can read this. He pulls in way at the end of the drive, and I pull next to him. He pronounces the place too busy. I'm thinking he's going to get cold feet, but he doesn't. Later I decide he just didn't like the vibe.

He proposes another area, and I follow him off another mile or so. We pull into an area that looks quite busy to me. At least it's busy at the entrance area - loads of people getting onto a bicycle path. And at the other end, a boat launch. In between, though, it's very quiet, and he pulls into a spot which affords good views of the approaches. Very strategic. He knows exactly where he is. I park down a few spaces, and walk over to his open passenger window. He's cleared the passenger seat, and waves me in quickly. He checks repeatedly over both shoulders behind him, watching for traffic, then produces that sweet hard fat cock, showing off his heavy, thick untrimmed dark bush.

I go straight down on him and he promptly starts fucking my mouth with short, fast, sharp jabs while keeping up a running commentary on how he doesn't do this very often and how there might be this or that car coming and how we better do this quick. Undeterred, I keep up my labors on his cock, and as he gets more into it he sinks lower in his seat, finally bracing himself between the floor behind the brake pedal and his seatback and commences to fucking my mouth so fast that what he was doing would best be described as vibrating. He lasted for several minutes of that before he popped a huge thick load that had a powerful chemical taste. No other way to describe it. Smoker, I have noted. Maybe that's it.

I quickly pull myself together, pop the door and spit. I shake his hand, ask if he's ever been told he shoots huge loads (monosyllabic grunt in response), thank him and I'm out of the car before he can utter another monosyllable. As I plunk down in my car, he's already revved up the Caddy, and I subtly snag the above photo before he gets away.

Two in one day. That's the way cocksucking outta be.

8/29/09

Ah, Trevor. His CL ad was a rare one: he's 34, and specified that he prefers men older than himself. Imagine that. OK, I like imagining that, given that I'm over 40. And he's strictly wanting a massage and a blo. And he's in a blue-collar suburb of the sort that gets me all hot and bothered. I'm on this, big time.

It's a lazy Saturday afternoon, and he writes back promptly and enthusiastically, proposing we get together right away. Excellent, I'm there. I even have an errand to run out his way. I roar off in the direction of his particular suburb, and call when I get close. He answers, apologetically: he's stuck in a nearby parking lot with a dead battery - could I come over and give him a jump? Huh? I was here for sex . . . but OK. I locate him, sitting by a huge SUV with its hood up. "It belongs to a friend, he keeps it in my driveway - and it doesn't get driven much. I think the battery's shot." This is making sense again. And he's hot. 6' plus, a little chunky, rosy cheeks and curly hair. Wearing soccer gear. Friendly and sincere - an immediately likable guy. He explains he's got soccer teammates coming over this afternoon, so he wants to get going. We get his machine cranked up and running. I trail him through suburban streets to a well maintained 1960s ranch house, and follow in through the kitchen door.

The place has the feel of having been lived in a long time. The kitchen is tschoke'd up like crazy, something an older woman would have done - lots of cute items that do not look like my new pal's doing. The living room is similarly filled with furniture and decorative items, and a lot of very English looking reproduction paintings. Nice reproductions. But the living room also had a decidedly masculine flair from several hunting trophies on the wall - above a huge illuminated glass-front china cabinet. I'm confused. It appears to be his house, the way he treats it, the way he casually has a cocksucker over. And yet it doesn't seem to be the kind of place a soccer loving 34 year old guy would live. Working theory: he inherited the house, including its contents.

Upstairs, he selects a bedroom that's as full of stuff as the rest of the place. He undresses himself, leaving on his boxer briefs. He invites me to do the same. Dude's build like a brick shithouse - 6', 200 lbs, and solid. His torso had been shaved at some point, but his natural body hair had come back to about the half-inch length. I inquire whether he's got any massage oil, and he looks a little surprised, but steps into another room and returns with a big bottle of cheap - I kid you not - hair gel.

While he's out of the room, I notice the strangest thing ever. Not about him. It was the bedside table. I recognized it. I kid you not, I once owned this table - I inherited two of them, didn't like them, and sold them through a local auction house. They were overly frilly, not my taste at all, but of good quality and old. Not something to give the Goodwill, and indeed, I got a few hundred bucks for the pair of them. And all of a sudden, there's one of these tables sitting right here in front of me. I am sure it was my former table, as I was very familiar with it having cleaned it up and made a couple small repairs before unloading it. I resisted the urge to ask him where it had come from. But you want to talk about a weird random chance - of all the countless homes it could have wound up in, it's here, where I'm serving as cocksucker of the day? Just what are the odds of that, I ask you?

He flops face down on the bed and encourages me to go to it. The hair gel works unexpectedly well as a massage lube, and he's enjoying himself. As I am - I'm getting a serious hard-on. Once I've worked over his upper body thoroughly, I propose he lose his shorts. He slips them off quickly, and I go to work on his legs and ass. Nice meaty legs and ass. So far there's been nothing terrifically sexual about any of this, so I up the ante and let my hard cock rub in his ass crack as I go back to working his shoulders. No response, one way or the other. He doesn't squirm away, but he doesn't get into it either. This guy's kinda resistant. But hot.

Not getting any response, I suggest he roll over. And over he rolls, revealing a true 5", skinny, backed up by a thick but trimmed bush. Nice, even if not outstanding. I go face down in his crotch immediately, licking his balls and all the sensitive parts before going down on his cock. He's enjoying himself, but not vocally. The blo-job goes routinely - he lasts a solid length of time, but doesn't need to jerk to finish. He squirts a good solid load of sharp tasting cum, and courteously offers me a Kleenex. I'd have swallowed if he'd asked, but he didn't seem interested in that.

And that was it. He hadn't touched me. He remained very friendly as we dressed, urged me to come back sometime. As he showed me out, I commented that we'd beaten the impending arrival of his friends. He seemed non-plussed by that: "Ah, I'd just tell 'em you were a friend from the neighborhood." What a stud, huh? Ready, willing and able to introduce his cocksucker to his friends without embarrassment, even if he didn't appear to have any sexual interest in me - short of getting his rocks off. Interesting.

I want me some more of this.

9/12/09

Another round with Mr. 7/3/09. A totally simple affair. I thought I recognized the simplicity of his CL ad, and true to form, he responded quickly and committed just as quickly. Two emails later - the first of which said: "we've done this before", he'd articulated that what he wanted was for me to find his apartment door ajar and walk in where I'd find him crashed out on the sofa apparently asleep. From there, I was to simply suck him off and go, leaving him there still "asleep".

Whatever rocks your boat, dude.

I hustled off toward his place, as before, on my bike. Past the doorman and upstairs, as promised, his door was ajar. And as promised, there he was, crashed out on the sofa with an augmented tits straight porn hammering away on the TV across the room. Eyes shut tight.

Playing along, I tiptoed quietly over to him and knelt down. His lower body was covered with a blanket that was visibly tented. Nice. I carefully lifted the blanket, and there, as before, was his fat chunky cock standing at attention above his generously bagged balls and his thick untrimmed bush. Taking care not to use my hands (wouldn't want to wake my 'sleeping' target!) I started into blowing him, licking his weighty nuts and burying my face in his thick bush. He made not a sound until, a respectable few minutes into my efforts, he breathed several short, sharp breaths that made it clear: dude's about to cum. And cum he did: a boatload of thick jizz. Once again, not a particularly strong tasting shot, but copious and very, very viscous. Nice.

I slip out as quietly as I slipped in. He hasn't looked at me yet, unless he was looking at the top of my head bobbing up and down as I sucked him off. Out the door, down the elevator and I was gone.

It's been a while

To my readers:

Thanks for staying with me. No, it hasn't been a dry spell sexually for me. Not at all.

What it has been is a dry spell blogging for me. I'm not sure why - at various times I blamed it on: I'm busy at work, I had a cold, writer's block, etc, etc. But the truth of the matter is that blogging takes a fair amount of effort, and I was just kinda tuckered out. And as the unreported sexual experiences piled up, the task of getting caught up got bigger and bigger and tougher to overcome.

But I'm back on the horse, guys (and gals - yup, I have women readers, bless you Ladies!). I've compiled a list of unreported encounters, and I'm going to start working through the backlog. I regret to say that I'll probably miss a couple, as I wasn't taking notes. I've been able to reconstruct my activities from emails where I was hooking up that way. Alas, there are going to be a couple experiences I miss - things that happened at my gym, or maybe a random visit to a XXX bookstore, where I have nothing to remind me of what and when.

So thanks for sticking with me, folks. Your loyalty will be rewarded.

8/16/09

Feet. Though I once got it on with a guy who liked my feet a whole lot, I've never had the desire to get up close and personal with anybody's feet. But there's this guy who's posted a number of times on CL, and he posts this pic of his feet with his ad. And for some strange reason, they look tasty. Don't know why. I've never looked at a guy's feet at, say, the gym, and started to drool. But this time . . . .

My response gets a quick return. Yowza - he's a 5 minute walk from here. And he wants some. Now. I quickly arrange to meet him outside his building, and scramble out the door.

He ambles up to me, looking quite ordinary in cargo shorts, a t-shirt and sandals. 32, 5'10", 175. Cleancut, slightly olive complexion, dark hair. Mediterranean. Not particularly hot in any particular way, but nothing unacceptable either. And yes, a slight accent - turns out he's a Spaniard, to be precise. He wiggles his toes in his sandals, and indicates toward them: "what do you think?"

"I think I'm ready for a try, sure."

His apartment's a spacious one bedroom, decorated with more care than your typical bachelor exercises, but in a very traditional manner. Television's tuned to some movie, the laptop is sitting on the ottoman, glowing. He's not good at getting the ball rolling - a little awkward - so I direct him into the bedroom, and suggest he get out of his clothes which he does with dispatch. "You want me to get naked, too?"

"Sure." Try not to be so indifferent, would ya? He plunks down on the bed, reclines and offers up one foot - "I just took a shower before you came over." So now's the moment of truth: I've gotta pleasure his feet. OK, here goes. start with little kisses. Not bad. Then a little licking - the top, the sole. Yeah, this is kinda fun. He's guiding his toes toward my mouth, and I hesitate before taking the plunge. Do it, boy: give him a toe job. I'm blowing his big toe like it's a small cock. And it turns out to be good fun. Not something I'm jonesing to do again. But good clean fun, and if it turns on a good man, I'm there.

Toe sucking goes on a short while, but there's only so much one can do in this connection. He's not verbal about his enjoyment. Weak feedback isn't a good thing.

"Do you like to give a massage?"

I come up from the foot job, happy to get into something different. "Absolutely, you got any oil? Some lotion, maybe?" He steps into the bathroom, with his hard cock leading the way (yeah, he liked his toe job just fine) and return with a travel-size hand lotion and a towel. He flops down, and I strip down and I get to work. Knead, knead, knead his relatively hairless, relatively un-toned body. He's a tad heavy around the middle, without the saving grace of muscle underneath. Not bad, but nothing special.

I'm trying to figure out whether he's into men, or he just wants to get off. My hard cock's rubbing in the crack of his ass, to no particular effect. I try dry humping him a bit, and nibbling his neck a bit, again to no particular effect. So I roll him over. Hard as a rock, his cock is. Not big - a true 5", maybe, and fairly skinny. Uncut. Slight bend to the left. Trimmed, but not shaved pubes. I massage his chest a bit, and try once again getting up close and personal - with a kiss, which he passively, but decisively resists, and instead pushes me down for head. After all, he was in this for a foot job and some head.

You got it, baby. Head. He's not huge, so it's an easy suck, and I'm willing to go on a long time, if he wants. But suddenly, to my surprise, he offers to work on my back a bit. Reciprocal massage? Won't fight you there, buddy. One gets a few kinks working out the kinks of others, after all. I roll onto my front on the bed, and he begins awkwardly and not very effectively working the muscles of my upper back. This quickly evolves into him dry humping me, and whispering in my ear, "you want to get fucked, don't you."

I beg off, not having planned on this. I have no proper lube, and he's not sure he's got a rubber. I promise I'll put out for him another time, and satisfied, he goes back to dry humping me. And then he does one of the best things anyone's ever done to me: he raises up, with his cock still rubbing the crack of my ass, and he lets drop a huge glob of spit. Right square into my crack. Totally unexpected. "Splat!"

My god, that felt GOOD. Had this Saturday-afternoon-cornholin'-in-the-barn feel about it. I was about to get fucked by Gomer Pyle! Well, gollee!

No, wait, this ain't Andy Griffith, and I'm not up for getting fucked. His suddenly spit-lubed cock caught, just barely, in my asshole and probed gently. I felt SO GOOD. If he'd pushed a little harder, and I'd pushed back and not resisted, he'd have been in. But after a nanosecond's pure pleasure, I broke from my reverie, clamped down and told him in no uncertain terms I wasn't looking to get plowed. But damn, it felt SO, SO GOOD while it lasted. I'm going to make a point of coming back for more when I'm properly equipped.

From there we went into a vigorous blo. He finished himself the last 100 yards manually, and spewed seed all over the place. The guy did good distance. He encouraged me to stroke off - he hadn't touched my cock the whole time - but seemed fairly uninterested in the result. But the strange thing was he didn't rush to get out of bed after we'd both cum. He handed me the towel to wipe up, and we lay there side by side for a while, touching, and talking about one thing and another. It was pleasant, but baffling.

I can't put his sexuality in any conventional box. He was very friendly, got passionate about wanting to fuck me, but didn't show the slightest interest in my cock and didn't want to kiss or enjoy other non-genital pleasure. Hmmm. The only explanation I can come up with is he's got no particular interest in men, except the easy convenience. But he feels no need to separate himself from me, either.

It's all very Continental, doncha know?

8/26/09

Wow, I found Mr. Taste Free again! (Here's my account of our first meeting.)

Did my thing at the gym tonight, and settled in for a quick sweat afterward. And yup, there he was again, the man whose jizz, though copius, didn't taste like anything. I didn't recognize him at first - I'm a lot nearsighted, and without glasses it can be hard to recognize someone.

It's funny, when the third man in the sauna got up and left,Mr. TF said "how are you" to me very politely when I glanced up (he was on the bench above me, on another section of bench) to admire his powerful thighs. Really, I was only admiring his thighs because his towel was so securely wrapped that I couldn't see his goods at all. I mumbled back something non-committal but pleasant. Now of course I was keeping an eye on him. Hope springs eternal, after all. And just as eternally, cocks spring up.

Shortly after saying hello, he clambered down onto the lower bench, the level I was on. And in doing so he succeeded in hiking his towel up to the point where, when he sat down and his dick got just a little hard, the head was showing prominently. And as regular readers might recall, this guy had one fat cock head, way out of proportion to his quite skinny shaft. The ball-peen hammer of penises. I still didn't recognize him, thinking - and here's that hope springs eternal thing again - that fat head must be backed up by an equally fat shaft. But I was to be disappointed. Well, not really disappointed - he's got a nice cock. But not like I was hope-springs-eternaling about.

Once it was clear he was showing, and that his soldier was standing at attention, I gave a few tugs on my cock. He responded in kind immediately and I slid over and started giving him a well-lubed handjob. Yes, he was already well-lubed. And it was only when I got my hand on his cock that I recognized just who it was I was dealing with. It's Mr. Taste-Free!
When I proposed to him he needed to get sucked off, he played reluctant. "Too many people around."

"Naw, it's 7:30. Don't worry." I kept a skillful slippery stroke going on his cock.

"I want to go cool off for a second."

I followed him out of the sauna. His cock was jutting luridly under his towel. He wandered over and drank a little water, then I followed him to the showers for a couple minutes - good! he's washing the lotion off - then he headed back to the sauna. I followed at a respectable distance, thinking - last time, you couldn't taste his jizz because of the lotion, so pay careful attention now.

In the sauna, he was standing leaned up against the corner of the sauna away from the door. I plunked down on the bench beside him and went down on him straight away. His cock, from this position, was flawlessly sized and proportioned to fill the back of my throat in a highly satisfying manner while still not triggering my gag reflex. Thump, up against the back of my throat. Dimensional fulfillment. It was cocksucking heaven for a couple minutes there. The he pulled out and requested to rub his cock on my face. Then I went down on him, and as he got close, he pulled out again, telling me "I want to cum on your face." A few manual strokes and he started to spew.

And I anxiously awaited my opportunity, finally, to taste his jizz. He popped all over my face, rubbing his seed around my face and my tongue with his spewing cock. The load was copious and extra thick. More toward jelly than syrup, if that makes sense. Thicker than any cum I think I've ever had. And still no taste! Well, not NO taste, but precious little. The lotion didn't make any difference!

He was enjoying rubbing his cock on my face (as was I), but we were in a public place, so it seemed best to wrap it up. "Does it turn you on to see your cum all over my face?"

"Yeah, kind of." Kind of? Geez, thanks.

I rose, wiped my face on the towel his hung around his neck. And just as I was dropping the towel, in walked another guy. Talk about timing. I pivoted away as the door swung open, and I don't think the guy was the wiser.

I showered up and went into the again empty sauna to let my hair dry. A few moments later, in walks Mr. Taste Free with a big glass of water he pours on the floor where some of his jizz fell. "Got to clean up my . . . ."

I'm still marveling.

No taste.

8/15/09

This one was something else.

The ad was titled: "Basically Str8 guy," and related how said basically str8 guy needed a blo, liked watching str8 porn and how he was stuck here for the day waiting for an evening train home. Sounds good to me! I responded, noting that I had errands to do but that if he could wait until early afternoon, I'd be glad to give him the blo and the porn he wanted. He got back to me very quickly "Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®" to take me up on the offer. He was wandering around, seeing the city, and said he'd just wander my way for my anticipated return from errands. Cool.

When I got back from running around, I flipped him an email, and he popped back almost immediately. He was two blocks away, and rarin' to go. Said he was named Lloyd, would be wearing jeans and work boots, and - best detail ever - he had a tattoo of a naked girl on his forearm. Damn! In case I doubted his str8 guy bona fides, this took care of it definitively.

I was out the door fast, and trotted off to see this tattoo. And there he was, exactly as advertised: 38, 5'11", 170, work boots and yes, the naked lady on the forearm. He looked a tad scruffy, and was carrying a tidy, well-stuffed knapsack. This was feeling slightly weird as we walked and he explained himself. He had come two days ago from a neighboring state in response to an online ad for a carpenter that promised two weeks' work, though at somewhat less than his usual wages. He had been glad to get work, as his carpentry skills weren't in hot demand with the housing busting full swing. But the employer had cut him off after two days, and paid him with a check Lloyd didn't think was good. He told the story without embellishment, and with surprisingly little rancor. It was just a bit of hard luck he'd overcome. In the meanwhile, he was waiting for the six o'clock train to get home.

His whole story had kind of a Great Depression feel about it. And he had a distinctly redneck feel about him. I had brief moments thinking I might be up against a scam. I was thinking of ways to bow out - a sudden faked phone call from someone stopping by, might do the trick, I was thinking. But as he talked some kind of basic decency shone through. I didn't feel manipulated, I didn't feel scammed. He wasn't asking me for anything, and didn't seem needy. This was just real life in a different social stratum walking beside me. He was OK, I concluded. And his jeans looked very nicely stuffed.

Nonetheless, I took the measure of taking him up the back way in building, via the freight elevator. Which to my chagrin was packed, and in which Lloyd was gregarious and outgoing with people who appeared to be arriving for a party on another floor.

Once upstairs, I popped in the porn, and he shucked his clothes completely and settled in on the sofa for a good long blo. "Or two," he noted. I was a little surprised to hear that, given he's a grown up, and given he'd said he requires a good long hard suck. Multi-cummers, in my experience, are also quick cummers. Maybe he was joking around. I got down to work. His cock was soft, but still a healthy size - a full 3-4" in its resting state. His body, a working man's body. No pumped up pecs or cut abdominals. But clearly in good shape from actual use. Lightly hairy. Sweaty, but clean. He smelled like a man, not like a bar of soap.

His cock responded quickly, and stiffened up to a true six and a half - bigger than average, but no monster. And stiff as a board. With me on the floor at his feet, he was big enough to really pound the back of my throat. And pound he did. With a rousing str8 porno on the DVD, he was happily thrusting away at my throat. And enjoying himself audibly, giving me commentary on the porno and my cocksucking. I remained clothed. He showed no interest in me physically, except for my mouth. I was there to be used, plain and simple and hard. And he lasted a long time, as promised. Twenty minutes or more. He gave me an excellent build-up to his orgasm, lots of warning, instructions to slow down and stretch it out for him, and a request to stay on him after he shot. "I like a cocksucker to keep it warm for me." Aye, aye, Sir!

And shoot he did. Big. Strong tasting. Copious quantities. As requested I stayed on him several minutes while he laid back and caught his breath. When I came up off him, he thanked me for my good cocksucking, and brought up again the second round. "Just give me five minutes here." So I plunked down next to him, and we chatted about one thing and another as the porno rolled on. And sure enough, 5 minutes later, there were signs of life in his crotch again. And down I went, marveling at how a grown-up, pushing 40, could get it up again so fast.

I went at it again for another good long suck. Not as long - he popped off a little faster this time. And way less juice.

Having cum twice, he got up and asked if I minded letting him have a shower. No problem. Out of the shower, he walked around naked quite happily. Teasing me? No, I think he was just comfortable in his skin. As he stared out the window at the high-rise view, his phone rang. After he rang off, he told me it was his best friend, Parks. Parks was supposed to be arranging his ticket home, and was having trouble getting it done. Damn Parks.

"Any chance you could let me have a sandwich?" It was then I put two and two together: Lloyd was out of cash. He'd come up here, been paid with a bad check, and had spent most or all of what was in his pocket in the meantime. He wasn't going to say it, but clearly he was in a jam. As I slapped together some provolone on multigrain for him, I quizzed him a little further, and learned that with some frequent rider points, his Amtrak ticket home was only 15 bucks. I pushed the sandwich into a bag for him, along with some chips and an apple. And I pulled $20 out of my wallet: "Here, this will get you home."

"Are you sure that's OK?" he asked with wide-eyed gratitude. That was a polite question, given he was standing in an apartment a quick glance at which would reveal that $20 was definitely not going to break me.

"Not a problem, Lloyd."

He accepted gratefully, and pressed on me an invitation to visit his house - which he specified was in a middle-class neighborhood; he clearly understood we were from very different places - should I ever get to his city. "I got huge collection of pornos, anything you could be into," he said, indicating toward a wall of bookshelves, "they'd fill up all those shelves!" It was a sincere invitation.

He'd dressed in fresh clothes he'd produced from his knapsack, and was looking good and feeling good as he headed out the door. He had just enough time to make it to the train, and the means to get his ticket. And a sandwich, and his balls were good and drained.

Thinking back, I realize that Lloyd was a very genuine person. He asked nothing of me, even though he was in a tough spot. And he inspired me to lend a helping hand. You can't beat that.

A couple hours later, he emailed from the train to say thanks again, and to urge me again to visit. It did my heart great good to hear he was on his way home.

8/2/09

The ad read:

Built married guy looking for discrete fun right now. Visiting . . . staying at downtown hotel. Have an hour free. Six foot two 200 lbs white athletic. First timer so must be reasonable and limited expectations. Must be under 35. Reply and I will meet you downstairs and if ok let's have quick fun.

So I replied.

And he got right back to me (even though I wasn't under 35):

Sounds perfect. Am watching porn now! Meet me at the Sheraton by the gift shop in the lobby. How long? I have to be somewhere at 7.

And there he was, as promised, out front of the gift shop. And as promised, big, tall solid guy. Dark wavy hair, handsome enough. Take about 20 pounds off him and chain him to a Nautilus machine for a month and he'd be hot, hot, hot. Now, he's just a nice-looking big lunk in better than average shape. Wearing sandals, a t-shirt and up-to-date jeans. Somehow I looked like what he expected, because he came straight over to me. He was friendly, but a little awkward as we walked across the lobby. There was a big convention in town, for a profession of which I am a member. I asked if he was here for the convention, and he said no, so I tried to make other small talk.

He was even more awkward in the crowded elevator on the way up, and sorta tried to act like I wasn't with him. Once off the elevator, he was apologetic. "sorry - I keep worrying about I'll run into someone from work."

In the room, I saw immediately why: he was attending the convention. There was a convention schedule folder right on the desk. Dude's nervous here. He moved away from me, to the other side of the bed, and immediately began shucking his clothes. I followed suit, and we dropped down on the bed next to one another. His cock was of medium size - maybe a little small on such a hunk of a guy. We lay next to each other, jerking to the hotel porn. He was stand-offish, nervous, and didn't voluntarily touch me. For a while.

I reached over and jerked him for a short time, then wagged my big dick at him. "You want to take a taste of this?" He promptly got up and positioned himself above my cock, then looked at it for a good long time, stroking me slowly. It was as if he was contemplating my cock, maybe working up his nerve? Or just mesmerized by the prospect of having a big hard cock in his hand? Very deliberately he went down on me. Slow strokes, not very deep. But he was taking this very seriously. And once started, he kept going for a good long time - this was not "I'm curious, I'm going to taste it, now I'm done" kind of a blo.

When he came up off me, he didn't even look at me, and stayed in position above me. I leaned forward and sucked his cock for just a short minute, when he pulled back and out. Dude was thisclose to cumming, and said "no, no" as I reached again for his cock. Quickly he got back on me and kept sucking in the same deliberate, careful way. I kept thinking he could be good, with some more practice. But dude was close. Without warning, he pulled off and dropped back on the bed jerking himself very gently, as if handling a hand grenade. And in seconds he spewed shoulder high.

I started jerking myself for a finish when it became apparent he was going to pop. As he milked the last squirts out of his cock he urgently asked me to cum on his chest. All too happy to oblige, I hopped up straddling one of his legs, and stroked out a big load all over his chest. I always like to put on a good show in a situation like this, and succeeded nicely this time.

I grabbed him a towel out of the bathroom, and he wiped up. Immediately he was up on the other side of the bed pulling on his clothes. He was fully dressed before I was. He was feeling very awkward now.

I left feeling sorry for him. He clearly loved sucking cock. He probably desperately wanted to get fucked. But he was obviously afraid to have the least personal connection.

That's a big waste. Dude's got potential. And he's a hunk.

Postscript: I've never left something behind in a situation like this. This was a first: my (prescription) sunglasses, left in his room. He was responsive to my email, and my glasses were at the front desk for me the next day. Thanks dude. Like I say: you got potential.

7/19/09 . . . continuing on

When I hit the street, I checked my email. There's Mr. Blue Collar. He's back from his run. Sweet! I hadn't expected to hear anything further from him. I quickly fire off an email, and he quickly responds. I'm off his way, maybe 5 miles southeast of my current position.

Getting up to his apartment's a bitch, as I can't find a good place to lock up my bike & the doorman's off on break and the alternative call up and get buzzed in method isn't functioning. Finally, some lady sees me, and lets me in. It's not something I'd do, but it's not my building either. Perhaps a sweaty cocksucker isn't her idea of a danger to the neighbors. I march in.

I note in a mirror in the elevator on the way up just how sweaty and bedraggled I am after all this cycling and massaging. I've ridden a fair distance, and worked up a sweat massaging Denial Man. In our conversation, Mr. Blue Collar had raised one point forcefully and repeatedly: he would like to spend some time face down on my ass. I won't say no to that. But given my ragged condition, I resolved to ask if he'd mind me taking a shower. He'd probably appreciate that.

At the door, he's as handsome as his picture. Italian, maybe 55. 5' 9", maybe 185. Wavy mostly gray hair, striking light gray eyes. He'd definitely taken the run he talked about, and clearly makes that a regular habit. Not a gym god, but totally healthy and very appealing. Tasty. And his speech carries the working class Italian vibe his ad had mentioned: "Blue Collar Bi" had been the title. He's not a warm person, and indeed, there's a steely hint of someone you wouldn't want to mess with. I'm liking this plenty.

When I come out of the shower, he's waiting for me in the bedroom, still clad in athletic gear. I dropped my towel and he quickly followed suit, peeling off his running gear. I wasn't sure how this was going to go - did this guy kiss? It didn't take long to determine that yes, he loved swapping tongue. Indeed, I'd say this guy fairly lived through his tongue, and I was going to be the lucky recipient of that. We quickly collapsed onto his bed where I went to work blowing him. He wasn't big, and took a while to come to full strength. But I've got no complaints - the cock's nothing special, but the owner's a very hot roll in the hay.

After some solid suck time on his cock, he wastes little time getting me rolled over and his tongue planted on my ass. And he goes to work. Hard work. Dude must have eaten me for a solid 20 minutes, working his tongue vigorously into my ass. He's pulling my buns apart to get better penetration. He's projecting his tongue as far as it could conceivably go into me. And I'm in heaven. He just plain wants in. This guy eats ass like no other I've ever had. I'm talking serious talent here. I'm regretting that I'm not feeling into getting fucked, because I bet he's a great top.

When he's had his fill of my ass, I go back to blowing him, and he takes a taste of my cock as well. Eventually he finishes himself manually - good sign to me that yes, he's gay all right, and a little too used to his own right hand. A shame. This guy deserves a regular fuck buddy. He really deserves it. But from the look of his place - conservative furniture, family photos, etc., he's pretty deeply in the closet. I don't think he'd allow himself a boyfriend. Makes me want to hold him close and tell him he deserves to be loved. But I don't want to go all Dr. Phil on him. I go down on his cock to take his load, and then make him taste his jizz. He fights me a little, but gives in to tongue play. Like I say, this guy lives through his tongue. I finish myself all over his chest - huge load from all the stimulation of the morning - big shooting, which he admires.

We talk pleasantly as I pull myself together. Turns out that no, he's not a hot construction worker or the like. He works in IT for a large institution. I guess that's 21st Century blue collar, right?

7/19/09

Sunday. Once again, a Sunday double-header. I'm starting to notice a pattern here: Sunday mornings are prime cocksearching time. I don't think I would have recognized the pattern if hadn't been blogging here, keeping track of my various conquests. But now I see it. Sunday morning is big.

This morning, I start out talking to a guy who describes himself as "blue collar". I like that. We go back and forth a bunch of times, and when he says he's got to go somewhere but will get back to me when he returns I figure that was pleasant, but a waste of time. Conveniently, moments later, up pops a MWM who needs a massage. Downtown. Handy. He alludes to sex in his ad only where he says: ". . . whatever pops up." That's it.

A mere 4 emails does the job, and I'm on my bike and off to his place in the furthest edges of downtown, into an area that's filling in an urban no-man's land. He comes down to meet me on the street, and takes me directly up to a smallish new apartment in a brand new building. He's about 6'2", 190. Early 30s. Nice wavy dark hair, but nothing else notably attractive about him, but still good enough. Pleasant, seems bright but not too talkative. A little shy, not one to quickly establish a personal connection. No ring, but there's a woman's touch about the apartment. All his guy junk seems to have been shoved into a small study, and somebody else went to Target to try to make the place look nice. And succeeded, in a budget store kinda way.

He hadn't thought of massage oil. Apparently he didn't know that an oily massage is a good massage. But on my inquiry, and after some banging around in the kitchen he came up with a large bottle of cooking oil, which would serve fine. He spread out a towel on the bed then stalled awkwardly. I sensed I needed to make a move here, and instructed him to take his clothes off. There's some denial going on here.

In order to preserve the deniability, I gave him an option: "Your choice if you want to take your shorts off. Either way you like it."

"Oh, that's cool," he responded, with not a flicker of emotion. He quickly shucked his clothes, whipped off his boxers and flopped down forward across the bed. I got a flash of his goods: unshaved, but trimmed dark pubic hair. Bigger than average flaccid cock, with a pronounced bend to the right. Laid out before me his body is a bit heavy around the middle. No effort at the gym. But again, not bad, and nice skin. I want to touch.

"You want me to strip down?" I immediately regretted requiring him to make an affirmative statement he might not want to make.

But he handled it easily by tossing the choice back to me: "Yeah, if you think you should." Of course I think I should.

"Yeah, probably the best thing to do if I'm using oil. Don't want to oil up my clothes."

I stripped quickly, got some oil in my hand and standing behind him I started to work on his lower back. I hopped up onto the bed to get a better position on him and casually let my throbbing cock rest gently in the crack of his ass, moving with me. If denial weren't so heavy in the air, this would be considered erotic. But he gave no sign of arousal. Or anything, really. I kept kneading away on his back, his neck, arms with my cock rubbing against his body - not grinding, mind you, just rubbing. It's there, it rubs against you because it's there. Nothing more.

I love this kind of denial shit. His eyes remain closed the entire time, and he makes only occasional noises of enjoyment.

I worked over his legs, and up to his meaty ass where my explorations become ever more intimate. But I don't grab his balls, and his cock is sticking up underneath him and not visible to me. Then I'm off the bed and standing at his head working his shoulders, moving up to his neck. I've got him with his head hanging off the side of the bed. My stiff cock's rubbing gently against the back of his head. But again, it just happens to be rubbing against him, just because, well, it's there. And still his eyes are closed.

It's time to get him turned over. "Let me work your chest." I don't have to tell him to roll over. He does. Eyes still closed. His cock is standing straight up his chest, good and hard. 6"+, and on the thick side of average. I start working his upper arms, standing to the side. My cock is not touching him. I work up to his neck, but still keep my cock out of it. So far as I can tell, he's still not opened his eyes. I start on his chest. My cock brushes the side of his head. And again. As I work he slowly turns to let my cock rub against his face.

Ah ha! Dude doesn't just want a blo, he wants some cock. To some extent. After a couple minutes I feel his tongue sliding along the underside of my cock. I manage to maneuver my cock to rub on his lips while keeping up the massage. And then, Pop! it's in his mouth. Not far. Only an inch or so. And he's not really giving me an active blo-job. But my cock's in his mouth. It's just there.

His eyes are still closed, and he's still not moaning or groaning. But his cock's stiff as a board, and there's a drop of pre-cum showing at the tip. I lean forward and go down on him. My cock slips out of his mouth but his face is quickly buried in my thigh. I down him fast and deep and start sucking him slowly. He lasts barely a minute before breathing "I'm gonna cum." I stay on him and take his flood. A nice big flood - a nice big flood that I swallow.

"So how was that?" I inquired as he struggled to his feet. "Thanks, I feel great," he said, kind of shaking out his shoulders. He was clearly referring to the massage, not to the orgasm he'd just had. He'd just happened to cum. Nothing intentional, and no acknowledgment that he'd just sucked my cock, or that I even had one. We chatted briefly about nothing while I pulled my clothes on. He too got dressed.

On my way out, stopping in the bathroom to take a leak - it's clear: a woman does live here. Makeup equipment on the counter. I'll just call him Denial Man.

I'd do Denial Man again.

7/12/09

Got to my gym just in time to swim my customary laps. And then hit the sauna, naturally. After dechlorinating and putting my suit through the spin-dryer I plunked my ass down in the dry heat. There was one guy in there. Late 20s, maybe, dark hair, pale complexion. Nerdy. An IT professional having a Sunday afternoon sweat.

I did my usual introductory trick: whipped off my towel and dried my hair vigorously. I say introductory, as it gives anyone who cares to look a great opportunity to examine my junk without fear of being seen staring. With a towel over my head, there's no way I'm going to catch the peak-sneaker. Done drying, I dropped the towel on my lap with it low enough on my hips showing my pubes and just a smidge of the anchor end of my shaft. If they want to look, they can . . . think of it as a free sample.

And so I sat for a few. I had a definite feeling this guy was there for more than the heat, but I got no overt sign from him. His towel was wrapped securely around his waist, navel high. Nothing showing, and no visible stirring beneath. But still he had that air about him. I think he was looking my way, but being fairly blind without glasses I couldn't be certain about that. So I made a point of giving my pubes an unhurried scratch. And I gave balls a leisurely rearrangement, taking care to leave the towel positioned so he something enticing to look at. But still no overt interest.

A couple minutes later - this was taking a long, long time for this sort of thing - I repeated my rearrangements and scratches. Because I believed in this guy. And it worked. He reached under his still tightly wrapped towel and rearranged. I made a point of watching. And then he started clearly tugging on his dick. Thank you, thank you. I reached for my equipment to encourage him. He let his towel open a bit and I saw that he wasn't pulling on his cock, but was hauling fairly hard on his balls, letting his cock rub against his thigh in full view. Nice. I hate when I guy finally gets going but won't let you see his stuff because his hand is so firmly wrapped around it.

He opened his towel accomodatingly, and slapped on a little more lotion. (He was prepared with a little cup of lotion secreted behind him. I hadn't seen it, or this whole process would have gone much faster. But no complaints. I like the mutual tease, the thrill of the chase.) His cock wasn't big - maybe real 5" - and the shaft was unusually skinny - literally thumb thickness. But by comparison, the head was unusually fat. I kept thinking that if he'd been uncut this thing would have looked like a ball peen hammer. Now everything was out in the open, and I reached for him and commenced a nice well-lubed hand job he enjoyed thoroughly.

He enjoyed it so much he scooted closer and angled himself in my direction. I leaned forward into my task, and he reacted by just reaching for the back of my head and pressing me down toward his throbbing little hammer. Not a word, just a push. I like this guy.

I was slightly reluctant to go down on him because of all the lotion I'd been squishing around on his cock. But am I going to say no to a guy who gently but firmly is pressing my head down on his cock? Not on your life.

The lotion had a strange deadening effect on my tastebuds. All I could taste was gooey. I kept my well lubed hand on his shaft, stroking gently along with my suck. And I gave strong suction to his protruding cockhead. I wanted to get this reluctant guy off fast, before he could change his mind. I've had guys like this who, upon hearing some little noise outside the sauna, fled never to return. (Or, should I say: never to cum.)

We were in the sauna, I was face down and he was laying back to enjoy himself. I wanted to get this done. And I did in pretty short order. He half-breathlessly, half-casually informed me he was going to cum. He was clearly expecting me to pull off, but you all know me. I slowed my pace slightly to stretch out his orgasm, but remained as firmly committed as before. He warned me again, more breathlessly, but apparently resigned that he wasn't going to deter me and then started to shoot. My mouth filled quickly as he quietly emptied his balls. I stayed on him only a moment, given the public nature of the place.

When I came up, I let his jizz slide out of my mouth onto his cock. Dude could shoot - it was a healthy load. Thick, on the yellowish - rather than the whitish - side. I left a big wad in his dark trimmed pubes, and several more gouts dripped down onto his shaft and slid toward his tight balls.

"Heavy load, man. What was that, a weeks' worth?" He laughed briefly, but insisted it was only two days' worth.

The funny thing was I couldn't taste a thing. The lotion had so throughly coated my tongue that there was no sperm taste whatsoever. None. And I suspect his jizz was of a flavorful sort, given its thick consistency and coloring. Damn, what a waste.

Still randy, I urged him to taste my cock for a moment, as I had a raging hard-on. He declined - "I don't suck other guys - at least not strangers." But he happily stroked me for a minute with his well-greased palm. Nice, but I didn't want to cum.

We parted ways. I marveled in the shower how I still couldn't taste a thing. I marveled on the way out of the gym that I still couldn't taste a thing. I marveled all the way home that I'd just taken a big, thick, gummy slightly yellowish load of jizz and I didn't have even the faintest hint of cum aftertaste.

Damn lotion.

UPDATE: I ran into him again. Did another taste check. Will post soon.

UPDATED UPDATE: Posted!

7/3/09 . . . a few minutes later

I cut out of Mr. Schlong's apartment, and immediately fire off an email to they guy I'd put off not more than half an hour before. He's moved since last I saw him, and it's a 10 minute walk from Schlong's place to his. He responds immediately with address directions and I'm off. For the sake of the reader's imagination, the details: 40ish, 5'10", maybe, 180 pounds, maybe. Not in great shape, but not bad either. A jock-y soup bowl haircut. Dishwater brown hair. Very ordinary looking guy. I likely wouldn't check him out on the street if the opportunity arose.

We keep up a choppy email dialogue as I walk, during which I inform him that he's going to eat his load again. Every time I've done him, I've made him swallow his own spunk. This blo-job in an apartment scheme is pretty tame for us. First time we made it, we searched all over his immediate neighborhood for a dark spot to do it in. Failing to find one, we did it in a dark corner of his parking garage. A second and third time, we did it in his car, once parked on the street. He's never reciprocated, but he's always up for spermy tongue swapping, and that only afterwards. Odd.

As I power-walk my way to this second blo-job of the morning, a funny thing happens. I start to taste Schlong's cum. He hadn't tasted like much when he tossed his wad. I walked out of there, even, thinking to myself: nice big load, but it didn't taste like much. But, like a fine wine, the flavor developed with time.

Guy number two greets me at the door, and leads me directly into the bedroom. I'm surprised to note his apartment - 40 stories up, with a stellar view - is full of Catholic symbols. Here a painting of the Virgin Mary, there a cross. Big cross over the bed, where he crashes on his back and kicks off his pants. He's already hard as a rock - unusual for him, as I'm used to having to warm him up. He's been jerking off without cumming this morning. Clearly.

He didn't last long. Which, again, was not his usual. He generally took some effort to bring off. Like I said, definitely whacking off all morning. He pumped a solid load into my mouth, and I promptly administered it back to him, taking the opportunity to grind it in with my tongue. After clearing my mouth, I rose up off him, stroked his throat and told him to swallow. With dazzled post-orgasmic haze in his eyes, he submitted to my desire to see him swallow. Gulp. Audible.

And I left him there on the bed and showed myself out.

7/3/09

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday! I don't know what it is about Sundays . . . but guys seem to need it on Sunday mornings. Especially this Sunday.

I'm horned, and I hit Craigslist first thing - seriously, I'm on the hunt by 8:00 am. And hit #1 gets a quick response. Sounds like just a simple request for a blow job from a self-described straight guy of 40. And nearby. Regular readers know I'm on that right away. We go back and forth for 4 or 5 emails, then he just drops away. I'm thinking he's got a better offer or some such thing. Dang.

Then I happen across another ad, also from a nearby self-described straight guy of 40. He wants someone to jerk off all over his cock, then use then cum to stroke him off. Nice. I respond to that, too: "Let me one up your scenario: I come in, stroke off and cum all over your cock and then suck you off and swallow both our loads."

Almost immediately, I get a return email from a recently familiar address: "It's me, can you do this now?" Same guy. One word response: "YEAH!" Moments later, I get another hit from another guy I responded to. Also calls himself straight, also nearby. Damn, my cup runneth over. And I recognize the email addy. I've sucked this guy off at least 3 times before. And sure, I'd do him again. But I have to put him off. Told him I may be available in an hour or so, and I'm very motivated. I'm hoping he doesn't get another offer before I can get back to him.

This first guy is way too intriguing, particularly as I'd done some research on him. His name was popping up on his email, and it was easy. Found his job. Found his Facebook. Found his high school and date of graduation (he was definitely not 39. Add 10. That's OK, it's the internet). He's Jewish. His nickname. Photos of him at a stock car race. Yeesh. Watch which email you use, guys.

I'm biking it today, and arrive all sweated up at his stylish downtown building. Doorman directs me up, and as promised he's left the door ajar. I just walk in as instructed. He's there, crashed out on the sofa, watching straight porn and sporting a big slightly spongy hard-on. He's wearing a grungy bathrobe which carries the logo of the local NFL team. There's an electric guitar in the corner. The apartment's nice, because it's new, but there's been no attempt to pretty it up. It's a guy place, definitely.

He wags his cock at me with a devilish grin. "Suck it." I don't need prompting, even though this gets off our planned squirt-suck-squirt scenario. But I can't stay away from this cock. This one truly deserves to be called a schlong. A true 7", moderately thick, with a big, long slim head on it. Cut, of course. Oy. Totally tasty. Nice bush, hairy balls. Little bit of gray sneaking into the underbrush. He smells slightly sweaty - not freshly washed, but a sweet scent nonetheless. He's vocal about his enjoyment when I get slurping on him. And he doesn't want me to stop apparently, as he keep urging me on. I'm sucking long and slow because I don't want him to cum too soon. This cock's just too good to rush. I'd be pleased to really wear out my jaw with an hour long suck on this one. But he doesn't last all that long. He gives me plenty of warning. My attempt slow things down my lapping at his balls comes too late: "don't stop sucking me, I'm gonna cum," he begs.

And cum he does. He squirts hard enough for me to feel it in my mouth. I stay on him for his prodigious load - not very flavorful, but nice and thick - and keep his cock warm for him as he audibly catches his breath. "You gonna swallow, man?" I take this as a request, not a question. I come up off him, look him in the eye, open my mouth a little and roll the cum across my tongue and swallow visibly. He smiles broadly, thanks me and tell me that was good. No kidding, buddy.

He's showing no effort toward getting off the sofa, so I stand up, tell him it was great and suggest that we might do the squirt-suck-squirt deed we'd discussed maybe some other time. He seems amenable. And I'm out the door.

And off to the next guy.

7/1/09

Work? Who wants to work.

Who wants to check CL on his smart-phone? Me! Me! Me!

I note an ad inquiring whether a nearby XXX bookstore was cruisy. I answer it, not really expecting to get anything out of the effort. "I've been there a couple times, and all I saw was a couple guys who had clearly pre-arranged a meeting." And then I tossed in "you looking for a blo?" Might as well ask, huh?

He wrote back quickly: "Sure. But my car in the parking garage down the street is probably a safer place." And he included his basic attributes . . . 49, MWM (cha ching!), 5", etc. Frankly, looking back, I feel like I was set up. Lured into a casual conversation that turned into a sexual predator's unquestionably pre-meditated car blo. Manipulated or not, I'm not going to say no. A couple more emails, he suggests we meet at the elevators on level 6 at 12:15. See you there, Mr. Manipulator.

I arrive on time, he's approaches a couple minutes later, coming from his car. He's no great beauty. In very average shape for his age. And not in a hot way. I don't know what to say about why he wasn't attractive - I usually go for plain old guy-guys. And it's not like he wasn't guy-like. Or that he was even off-putting. But he did nothing for me.

So I had no reason to back out of it. And I had a reason to stay, that was certain. And I'd committed to this. So dude's getting a BJ. He directs me to a late-model Toyota Avalon. Ick. Cheap, cheezy, self-satisfied ugly car. Tinted windows, and a booster seat in the back. We sit in the front seat, and he quickly fishes out the promised 5". Still soft. Small but not tiny. The one thing I'll say for this tacky car is that there's room enough for a cocksucker to kneel in the front passenger footwell and blo the driver. That's a big plus, though I doubt anyone at Toyota wondered "is the footwell roomy enough to accommodate a cocksucker?" as they designed this fugly ride.

From my face down position on him, if I open my right eye, I'm staring directly at his wedding right. I can also smell smoke on his hands. His cock stiffens up nicely to . . . medium-small size. And he cums after not too much attention from me.

You've heard that smokers' cum tastes nasty? Yup. It's got a strong - for lack of a better term - smoky taste. But not like barbeque smoky. More like filter-off-a-burnt-Marlboro smoky taste. Which is not necessarily bad for cum. I've always thought cum oughta taste like something. There's nothing more disappointing than a watery, flavorless load. Smoky, oddly enough, beats watery.

So, OK, this guy's got his virtues. Convenient, flavorful. OK, that's it.

I pop the door, spit his load on the parking deck and I'm out of there, leaving him to wipe up. Sadly, I didn't think to take a pick of the car until I'd walked away. I'd like to have shown you all the scene of the crime.

VIDEO ALERT

In May, I blogged about my prostate exam, and urged my readers to check out my latest attempt at film-making if they didn't believe me when I claimed to be able to shoot cum significant distances. Or, at least significant distances for a guy over 40.

But then I let you all down, and embarrassed myself when I couldn't get the video to post. All those who doubted my shooting prowess must have rubbed their hands with selfish glee.

Well, thanks to my willingness to ask, and to the bounteous supply of tech-savvy pervs out there, I managed get my .3gp file translated into a nice postable .mpeg file.

So, lower the lights, pop some popcorn, and click the link for the show:

Healthy Prostate Demonstration

(Roll down slightly for video.) Can you guys top that? I'm hereby offering to post video from any and all shooters who can beat that distance. Anybody up to the challenge?

6/29/09

The ad was simple: MWM wants blow job. Basic stats. A photo (yeah, that one right there). And he's in a downtown hotel.

You think I'm not going to respond to that?

He wrote back promptly with a simple: Are you free tonight? It was late, 11:00, on a school night. One more email established that he was at a hotel not more than 10 minutes away on foot. And it's a nice night out. Utter simplicity. There was no decision to make here. I was out the door one email later.

At the hotel, after a small hassle getting upstairs, I was presented with a nice looking, 38ish Indian guy with a distinct accent. I was slightly taken aback, given he'd explicitly described himself as an MWM. W may have been a fib, but the two Ms, they were there in abundance. He was solidly built, in obvious good shape. Wearing a ring. And really snug jeans that showed a sweet plump package. Oh, yeah, I'm still on board - I've had Indians before. They're tasty.

In the tiny highly high-concept-on-a-budget hotel room I quickly sank to my knees and started chewing the demin of his jeans. He sank back on the bed, and I followed, tugging at his jeans and boxers. He wasn't hard yet, and his shriveled cock is short, fat and very dark. And very uncut. Not the kind you can chew on, but a hood big enough his cockhead didn't show at all when he was soft. He stiffened up nicely, but still didn't seem as big as his picture. (Look a the picture closely: he's managed to make the whole cock look like just the half of it.) But this was nice. And his crotch smelled great. Call me crazy, but he had a spicy smell about him.

He was appreciative, but not vocal. And he came without the slightest warning, after not more than a couple minutes of my tongue. It was one of those rare times when I'm caught wondering: did dude just pop? I don't know, there just wasn't much cum there. Unclear as to whether he'd cum, I kept working on him. After another minute or two (when, in retrospect, he did seem very sensitive), he finally wriggled out and said something to the effect of "that's enough". It was really only then I was sure that he'd cum. But I scarely even felt the urge to spit. There just wasn't much there. Taste, yes. Volume, no.

I followed him into the bathroom, where he'd gone to wash up. I followed, massaging my hard-on in my jeans. I whipped it out and rubbed against him. He was interested enough to wank me briefly. But my suggestion that he might want to take a taste were met with a nervous giggle and a shake of the head, and his counter that I could jerk off into the toilet - which he said he wouldn't mind watching.

I was out of there. On the way home, I kept thinking: "how can a cocksucker of your considerable skill, experience and growing renown miss a whole freakin' orgasm?"

Have any cocksucker readers experienced that? You didn't realize he'd cum?

7/12/09

Got to my gym just in time to swim my customary laps. And then hit the sauna, naturally. After dechlorinating and putting my suit through the spin-dryer I plunked my ass down in the dry heat. There was one guy in there. Late 20s, maybe, dark hair, pale complexion. Nerdy. An IT professional having a Sunday afternoon sweat.

I did my usual introductory trick: whipped off my towel and dried my hair vigorously. I say introductory, as it gives anyone who cares to look a great opportunity to examine my junk without fear of being seen staring. With a towel over my head, there's no way I'm going to catch the peak-sneaker. Done drying, I dropped the towel on my lap with it low enough on my hips showing my pubes and just a smidge of the anchor end of my shaft. If they want to look, they can . . . think of it as a free sample.

And so I sat for a few. I had a definite feeling this guy was there for more than the heat, but I got no overt sign from him. His towel was wrapped securely around his waist, navel high. Nothing showing, and no visible stirring beneath. But still he had that air about him. I think he was looking my way, but being fairly blind without glasses I couldn't be certain about that. So I made a point of giving my pubes an unhurried scratch. And I gave balls a leisurely rearrangement, taking care to leave the towel positioned so he something enticing to look at. But still no overt interest.

A couple minutes later - this was taking a long, long time for this sort of thing - I repeated my rearrangements and scratches. Because I believed in this guy. And it worked. He reached under his still tightly wrapped towel and rearranged. I made a point of watching. And then he started clearly tugging on his dick. Thank you, thank you. I reached for my equipment to encourage him. He let his towel open a bit and I saw that he wasn't pulling on his cock, but was hauling fairly hard on his balls, letting his cock rub against his thigh in full view. Nice. I hate when I guy finally gets going but won't let you see his stuff because his hand is so firmly wrapped around it.

He opened his towel accomodatingly, and slapped on a little more lotion. (He was prepared with a little cup of lotion secreted behind him. I hadn't seen it, or this whole process would have gone much faster. But no complaints. I like the mutual tease, the thrill of the chase.) His cock wasn't big - maybe real 5" - and the shaft was unusually skinny - literally thumb thickness. But by comparison, the head was unusually fat. I kept thinking that if he'd been uncut this thing would have looked like a ball peen hammer. Now everything was out in the open, and I reached for him and commenced a nice well-lubed hand job he enjoyed thoroughly.

He enjoyed it so much he scooted closer and angled himself in my direction. I leaned forward into my task, and he reacted by just reaching for the back of my head and pressing me down toward his throbbing little hammer. Not a word, just a push. I like this guy.

I was slightly reluctant to go down on him because of all the lotion I'd been squishing around on his cock. But am I going to say no to a guy who gently but firmly is pressing my head down on his cock? Not on your life.

The lotion had a strange deadening effect on my tastebuds. All I could taste was gooey. I kept my well lubed hand on his shaft, stroking gently along with my suck. And I gave strong suction to his protruding cockhead. I wanted to get this reluctant guy off fast, before he could change his mind. I've had guys like this who, upon hearing some little noise outside the sauna, fled never to return. (Or, should I say: never to cum.)

We were in the sauna, I was face down and he was laying back to enjoy himself. I wanted to get this done. And I did in pretty short order. He half-breathlessly, half-casually informed me he was going to cum. He was clearly expecting me to pull off, but you all know me. I slowed my pace slightly to stretch out his orgasm, but remained as firmly committed as before. He warned me again, more breathlessly, but apparently resigned that he wasn't going to deter me and then started to shoot. My mouth filled quickly as he quietly emptied his balls. I stayed on him only a moment, given the public nature of the place.

When I came up, I let his jizz slide out of my mouth onto his cock. Dude could shoot - it was a healthy load. Thick, on the yellowish - rather than the whitish - side. I left a big wad in his dark trimmed pubes, and several more gouts dripped down onto his shaft and slid toward his tight balls.

"Heavy load, man. What was that, a weeks' worth?" He laughed briefly, but insisted it was only two days' worth.

The funny thing was I couldn't taste a thing. The lotion had so throughly coated my tongue that there was no sperm taste whatsoever. None. And I suspect his jizz was of a flavorful sort, given its thick consistency and coloring. Damn, what a waste.

Still randy, I urged him to taste my cock for a moment, as I had a raging hard-on. He declined - "I don't suck other guys - at least not strangers." But he happily stroked me for a minute with his well-greased palm. Nice, but I didn't want to cum.

We parted ways. I marveled in the shower how I still couldn't taste a thing. I marveled on the way out of the gym that I still couldn't taste a thing. I marveled all the way home that I'd just taken a big, thick, gummy slightly yellowish load of jizz and I didn't have even the faintest hint of cum aftertaste.

Damn lotion.

6/21/09 . . . on the way home

I stopped by another suck-woods on my way home.

The bastards have cleared a lot of the underbrush, so the woods don't hide much any more. You have to go way back deep into the forest to get any cover. And surprise, surprise, the men have simply migrated back there. I walk back a ways on a dirt road, looking for life. And yup, it's there. First, in off the road in the woods, I spotted a middle aged married Hispanic guy stroking his pants and staring at me. I stepped off the road and headed for him. He headed deeper into the woods. When I caught up to him, he whipped it out. But it quickly became clear he wanted to blo me. I was preparing to excuse myself when I spotted a fully naked guy about 50 feet away. Wow! That was unexpected. He had moved into a sunny area, and was stroking his cock.

The Hispanic guy and I made our way over to him. He had a blanket, cooler, and a book sitting in a patch of sun. He was ready for some serious backwoods nakedness. He was maybe 35, skinny and fit, with a long sort of droopy cock. Longish hair. And unfortunately, a shaved crotch. An odd duck. After a minute or two, I excused myself, leaving the Hispanic guy and the naked guy to enjoy themselves.

I just wasn't inspired in the least by either of them.

On the way back, I encountered a 40ish Eastern European on the road. Tight jeans, natural blond hair. He heads into the woods, and I follow right along. This might be good. But it isn't. He's wearing some cheap cologne, a tight euro-style T-shirt, and very Old Country pointy-toed shoes. Sadly, he's shaved himself clean below the belt. Damn. He's kind of a cut-rate, second-world imitation of a gay guy. I help him jerk off - his cock's big, but floppy. He seems very grateful. I compliment him on his shooting after he's unloaded, and he looks at me like with the apologetic, uncomprehending look of one whose English isn't so good.

Zimne Piwo, dude. (That's the only Polish I know. It means "cold beer.")

Any of my readers ever score a genuine Polish keilbasa?

6/21/09

Aw, geez. Out in the 'burbs, and the two inevitable magnets pull me further, on beyond my original destination. The suck-woods, and my favorite XXX. The suck woods, sadly, are a bust. I've mentioned the layout before - the regular park up front, and the long road way off to the back of the park. Traditionally, the back road is closed during the winter because they don't want to bother plowing the road. But this summer, the back woods haven't re-opened. There's a couple sawhorses festooned with yellow 'Hazard' tape and a sign saying "Road Closed."

I am personally convinced that they're doing it because of all the illicit sex that goes on back there. Nice. Stupid, too. Lust is like hydraulic pressure: cut it off one spot, you're guaranteed it'll burst out someplace else. And when you re-open what you've cut off, everything's gonna flow right back again. Note to self: figure out where everyone's gone.

So the suck-woods were a bust.

But the XXX was humming right along. I didn't have a long time to mess around, but that was fine as my luck was with me. Target #1 walked in not 5 minutes after I did. 40ish, average height, average weight of a suburban dad who likes him some fast food. Not sloppy, not svelte. Dark blue t-shirt, and shorts & sandals. He hadn't spent a long time on his outfit this afternoon. Really nothing special to look at.

He ducks straight into a booth, leaving the door ajar. He knows the drill. I catch his eye, nod and I'm in. I reach for his crotch directly. "You want a blo?" He just nods yes and fumbles with his zipper. He quickly extracts about 4.5 inches of already hard cock. Thicker than most, not a skinny little thing. But not exactly a fatty, either.

He remains standing as I go to my knees. He lasts about 2 minutes under my ministrations. He's quiet, no warning that he's about to cum, just a warm rush in my mouth. Nice healthy flavorful load. He's not chatty afterwards, so I just button up and beat it. He drives off in a 5 year old Camry. He was not bad, overall. But nothing to get too excited about.

I've tasted cum, though. That's a good day no matter what.

A little more waiting nets me a much hotter guy. He's probably in his mid-50s, very fit. Tan, but the natural kind. And a glint of gold from his ring finger. He's got a very winning way about him. He checks me out sideways. I check him back straight forward. We start chatting in the hallway. He asks me where I come from. "The city. But I like to drop by here."

"Boy, you guys in the city - you've got Boystown, and everything."

We go back and forth in a flirty banter for a few minutes. He's fun. I'm enjoying this. If we were in a bar, I'd be thinking "I'm taking this one home." I keep looking at an obvious bulge in his shorts. I make it a point that he should notice where I'm looking. He gets faintly nervous as I get more forward, but he's clearly liking it, too. I suggest a booth. He resists slightly. We chat further, I leer further. He starts looking toward an open booth. I suggest it again, and this time, he's game. He steps in, and I follow promptly and immediately sink to my knees and bury my face in his crotch. I can feel his hard cock under there. It's not big, but it's decidedly hard and ready to go.

When I go it to extract the goods, he shoves his pants down and hauls out a shortish, thickish cock. No shaving, he's nicely hairy down there. When I start making toward his cock to blo him he turns me away. He's not going there. Curses! But he wants to wank for me, and wants me to wank him. He even wants to wank me. I snuggle close to him while giving him my very best hand job. He's very responsive and sensual, and starts kissing my neck, my ears. Oooooo, that's giving me chills. Good chills.

As always in situations like this, when I can't get the cock in my mouth, I suggest that maybe I can go down on his balls. Again, he acts reluctant, but when I nuzzle him and whisper in his ear, pleading, he relents. My face is buried in his hairy balls in no time. Sweet. His sack is taught across his nuts. Nice big nuts, I might add. Nice big sweet manly smelling nuts. Rarely have I been so happy just polishing the family jewels. He starts making noises like he wants to take a break. He promises we'll continue this shortly, and pulls up his pants.

When he steps out of the booth, I'm not sure what to do. Has he wearied of me? Is he afraid I'm going to push him into a blo-job he doesn't want (he oughta be afraid of that - I'd love to taste dude's seed)? He wanders off toward the other end of the room. (I should explain - this complex of XXX booths isn't arranged in a small spade in a tight row, as most XXXs are. It's a big warehouse-y space, with booths scattered about in pairs. Unusual, but nice, in that if you want to get away from some troll, you can just wander off to another area.)

I lose sight of him for a few, but wander in his general direction. And yup, soon enough, I find him waiting in a booth with the door ajar. Oddly enough, he's in the same booth (out of 36 or more booths, if memory serves) in which I had just 30 minutes before scored a load. He beckons me in. Good, he did just want a break. He's all over me. We're doing everything up to, but not including, swapping tongue. He's pawing my shorts, grabbing my ass, kissing my chest. He strokes my cock appreciatively, and with a good hand. I start nuzzling him again, whispering in his ear that I'd sure love it if he's up to take a taste of my meat. No, no. So I suggest my balls. He plays reluctant again, but breaks down as before.

And then he does the weirdest thing ever: he extracts a wet-nap from his pocket. "Do you mind?" he asks as he tears open the package. He mutters something about being married. I'm so surprised I just let him go at it, and he sinks to his knees andthoroughly swabs down my low hangers. And then he plants his face in my crotch. He tongues away happily for a good time. He's not a great ball licker, but I don't mind. He's clearly having such a good time, I'm happy too.

He rises suddenly. He's been wanking the whole time, and it's had its desired effect. "I'm getting close." I quickly sink to my knees and position myself directly in front of him. I quickly yank my shirt over my head, trying to convey that he might want to shoot his load on me. But no, Mr. Clean turns 90 degrees. I've got a front row seat for his ejaculation, but I don't get so much as a drop. When he's done I rise and start humping his hip. He's not a post-orgasm sensualist, though. He just wants to get out, really. He remains friendly and flirty, but he doesn't want to be touched any more. And my dick's no longer of interest. Some guys just switch off, and he's one of them. After a quick wipe-up, he's gone. He drives off in a Grand Cherokee.

Boy he'd be good stripped of inhibitions and tucked into a king-size bed a thousand miles from his wife.

6/20/09

The final chapter with Mark.  Regular readers will remember Mark (and more about Mark), the guy who wanted me to be his bitch.  Mark proved too much man, and too demanding, even for me.

And as regular readers will recall, I went back and forth and back and forth about what to do about Mark.  Did I want to try to become bitch enough to handle the invasion of his considerable endowment and his urge to bury it hard and deep?  Or was I going to be sensible and call him off.  And if I was going to call him off, was he going to respect that?

I finally resolved to call him off.  I may be a bitch, I may utterly desire all he's got to ram into me.  But I really couldn't handle him.  Mark doesn't know what it's like to be fucked, or to have your throat reamed hard.  And so he just can't appreciate what he's doing to me - even after I had a frank talk with him.  So I sent him the following e-mail:

Sir:  I'm sorry.  I know I've been keeping you waiting.  But I can't keep going with you here.

 

It's like there are two little angels, one on each shoulder.  The dark one is saying "let him breed you, who cares how hard he uses you?"  The white one is saying "You've gotta be kidding, you can't handle him and you know it."  The two of them fight.  I listen to the dark angel, and I get a hard-on, and start itching for another round.  Then I listen to the white angel, and sober up from my testosterone buzz.

 

Please accept my apologies, Sir, for not getting back to you timely.  It's been a difficult fight for me to decide between the better angel and the testosterone angel.

 

But finally, I've gotta listen to the sensible one.  I can't handle you, Sir.  Your cock is massive, and you want to use it hard.  I thought myself bitch enough to handle you, but I'm not.  I'm not faulting you, not at all.  You've never been anything be up front about exactly what you want.  And you've been absolutely true to your word as to what you were going to do to me.  Sir, you totally deserve what you want here - you've got the physcial equipment and the attitudinal werewithal to demand it and take it.  That's a beautiful thing, Sir, and something I wish I could handle.  But I've got to honest with myself and recognize I can't.

 

There are bitches out there who can take it, and you deserve one of them.  I just wish I could conjure up a bitch who could handle you and just offer him up to you right like that.  Really, I do want to see you taken care of.  But I can't do it.

 

Thank you sir for trying me out.  I know I've been a disappointment, both to you and to myself.  You deserve better.

Mark got back to me shortly:

I do have to say I enjoyed it. I found a whole new side of me as well. I have never been into spanking/physical abuse, but I think that has changed now. I have a fantasy now of belting some bitch's ass whie he deep throats my cock. Hope you find the right cock that fits your tight pussy. Mark

So that was it.  It was over.  Mark was as much a reasonable gentleman as ever.  I kept telling myself: stop regretting it.  It wasn't working for either of you.

What's inspired me to write about this today was that Mark's looking to get back in business.  I was wandering Criagslist, and what do I find, but Mark on the hunt for a new bitch:  

Hey Guys. I am looking for a quality guy who can bitch out for a few hours at a time on my cock. NO FEMMES. I am looking for another masculine guy who can appreciate a good M2M session. Me: MWM. 6' tall, 210#, Brown, Blue, Professional, Hung. Looking for ongoing with a discreet buddy. I tend to be dominate, so subs are a plus. Thanks. 

Bless his horny self.  I hope the next guy can handle him.  I've half a mind to write him and say I'll give him a sterling recommendation.  But I think it's best to just let it rest.

Best of luck, Mark.  I hope you find yourself a serious loose bitch of a guy who can keep you totally happy.  I really, really do.

And, readers, do you all think I did the right thing?

5/30/09 - 6/7/09

Vacation! It's summertime, and I'm due some time off. So I took it. Went to my native region of our great nation and had a great time moving about, seeing people I hadn't seen in some time, and sneaking occasional short visits to various dens of iniquity squeezed into my official schedule. Sadly, sexually, it was a bust.

Nonetheless, I wanted to share here some of the details. First, I got visit my favorite out-of-town XXX bookstore. No joke, in the arcade section of this place, they label the doors to alert customers what they might find within: "Glory Hole" or "Buddy Glass" or both! Check out the picture. Sadly, during my brief visit, I scored nothing. Sunday, mid-morning, is clearly not a winner time for this place.

A visit to a second XXX bookstore netted me only a blo. Yeah, I got the blo this time. The place was moderately busy, but I didn't have much time to mess around. Shortly after I got there, in walks an attractive, prosperous-looking guy in his late 50s, wearing a cap which proclaimed some link to the United States Navy, a t-shirt proclaiming a link to the area's most prestigious golf course and a wedding ring proclaiming . . . . He's cagey, looking like he didn't know quite how to handle a dirty video arcade. Naturally, I'm intrigued.

After a good 5 minutes of cageyness, he steps into booth number one - the one closest to the entrance. Indeed, this guy has no clue how to handle himself in a XXX arcade. Cruising-rituals-'r'-NOT-us. He leaves the booth door open, and gives me a welcoming look. I step in and close the door, fully expecting that this guy wants a furtive blo-job --from me. But I called that wrong. He immediately reaches for my crotch, and fumbles with my Levi buttons to extract my cock, and without so much as a word he's going down on me.

Was this what I planned? No. But I am in a hurry. And I could use to get off. And gee, he seems to be enjoying himself a great deal. Fine, he gets my load. He definitely sucks cock like an inexperienced closet case. Only the first two inches are getting in. But he's diligent. I manage to start fucking his face adequately, and I can feel the load building. I inform him I'm gonna cum. He keeps at it, sucking hard. And I unload a good 3 days' worth straight into his mouth. And like a trooper he stays on me and takes the entire load. No pulling back when he tastes the squirt, no panicked "oh-my-god-he's-cumming-in-my-mouth" reaction. Just the steely dedication to duty of a Navy man.

And when I pull out, he just looks up at me with his mouth slightly open. Not a drop will be spilled. He's already swallowed the whole thing. Wow! Even I spit most of the time. I button up swiftly and exit. Done.

In another city, a few days later, I am able to get an hour to sneak into a XXX theater. We don't have those in my hometown (or it's suburbs), so I was happy to get a chance to spend a lunch hour in one. I'm expecting horny office workers -- this place is downtown. Nope. Troll city - actually, troll town, as there aren't even that many of them. The only action of any interest is a young guy who walks in and stands at the back wall jerking his cock behind his shirt tail. I go back and jerk with him, but he's not showing anything, and certainly not letting anyone touch him. A guy seated in the last row asks to see his ass, and the he complies, giving a brief flip of his shirt-tail and a flash of his ass. But that was it.

I slid closer to him and whisper that I'd love to jump his sweet ass. "I'm looking to pay the rent," he responds. OK, that's what an attractive young guy is doing here. Whoring. "Not that I'm looking for that, but what's the rent these days?" "$200." "Good luck, buddy." I say this nicely, not sacastically, as, oddly, I do wish him well. I looks surprisingly wholesome for a theater whore. I'm just not into paying. I go and sit down, and a few minutes later he parks his naked ass a seat away from me and drops the shirt-tail and lets me watch him jack. He doesn't attempt to make this into a commerical transaction, so I can only assume that it was a friendly gesture -- also a way to kill time -- and no more.

So the XXX theater was a bust. Shame. I started pondering the theory that the internet, and Craigslist and Mansearch and Yahoo Personals and the like have killed places like this. Only the internet-unsavvy go to such places anymore. A shame, as it's nice to meet your meat first, if you get my turn of phrase.

Two days later came my class reunion. In walks the love of my life (this is a very long story - suffice to say that he and I having started at age 13, are now in our fourth decade of occasoinally getting it on), now married, with his wife whom I'd never met. And damned if I didn't wind up spending more time talking to her than to any one other person in the room. Partly she didn't know anyone there, and got introduced to me upon arrival. And partly, I liked her & she seemed to like me back. Here I am, her husband's long-time lover, and we're hitting it off. I got a weird kick of out that. And at the end of the evening, on the way out, the wife warmly urges me to come and visit them sometime! Weirder kick! (A wise female friend I discussed it with later said: "What's so odd about that? You both love the same man, why are you surprised that you'd like one another?" Ah, female wisdom.)

On the last day of vacation, I got to make one final visit to the first XXX bookstore mentioned above. Nothing for about 30 minutes, and once again I'm in a rush. I gotta leave. As I hit the parking lot, though, I spot a guy pull in in a hopped up sports car. 40-something, a little heavy, appearance-indifferent straight guy look about him. I double back, and follow him into the arcade where he goes straight for one of the neatly labeled Glory Hole booths. I take the next one and he feeds me his cock immediately. Fat, ordinary length. Trimmed but not shaved pubes. He stiffens up smartly, and I work him to a nice boner. But he pulls back. I stay at the hole, except to feed another buck into the insistent video machine. He comes back and feeds me more. And pulls back again. I'm in a hurry, and this fucker doesn't want to cum just yet. GEEZ. After his third pull-back, I realize I'm going to be seriously late if I don't get out of here fast.

So yup, I left. I'm sure I'd teased up a huge load in him. It shoulda' been mine. But I left. Cursing all the way.

And that's the tale of my sexually frustrating vacation.

5/28/09

The (not exactly) annual physical: I am proud to report that my prostate was rated "1+". And my prostate has "firm margins", which sounds promising, don't you think? This was explained by my doctor to his hunky young intern before he invited the intern to perform a second invasion of my ass. He wanted to make sure the intern would be able to recognize a good firm margin. Not that I minded getting professionally intimate with the intern. Think of the nerdy athlete who always aced biology class.

When I asked my very gay doctor (how did the insurance company know to assign me to a gay doctor?) whether that 'plus' of the "1+" indicated something elevated, he said no, if my score were any lower it would mean my prostate had been removed. Phew. I feel better.

And I've definitely still got a prostate, as the video below shows. I've repeatedly boasted here that I can shoot a long way for a guy over 40, and I'm sure there are some skeptics. Watch the video: proof positive. Nipple high, when I'm leaning back in a chair? Pretty good shooting, if I do say so myself.

UPDATE: I can't, for the life of me, get the video to upload. If any of my readers know how to convert a .3pg to an .mpeg, I'd appreciate a walk-through.

UPDATE UPDATE: Thanks to a sharp guy from Queens who goes out on the Internet as BIFFtheSTIFF, I've managed to convert and post the promised video. Three cheers for BIFF!

5/21/09

Ah, how do I handle this one? The man in question is one who, I know, pokes around extensively on the internet. And finds blogs like this one. Occasionally he sends me something kinky.  He can't always bring himself to say this is what he would want to do next time we manage to get together.  (Yes, he's a repeater.)  So I've been highly reluctant to go into the highly distinctive details of our latest encounter. 

That, and I like him personally. If both he and I weren't shacked up (he formally, with the blessing of the state and a gold band on his left hand and I informally), I wouldn't mind having him as a lover. He cute, he's kinky, he's highly responsive to stimuli . . . and thinking about him is giving me a hard-on right now.

On the other hand, I've pledged to you, my readers, to play out my sexual shennanigans for 2009.  So I'm walking a fine line here, the line between informing my readers, and respecting my guy's privacy.

I'll start with some very basic background: he's married, with children. He's also probably more outwardly gay than I am - aside from the wedding ring, of course. He likes to get kinky, though not in a hard-core way. He's barrel-chested, hairy, and hung small. Cums easily.

We finally managed to arrange another encounter after many attempts that didn't work out. We drank a lot, and we got kinky, and while I was on top of him I just went for it: I stuck my tongue in his mouth, which he'd never explicitly resisted, but had also never had the nerve to seek himself. It was, though never discussed, a line both of us had respected since we met. And within moments, he came without even being touched. He just groaned a little something about how he was getting close, and I backed off but it was too late. After he'd spooged, he just lay back, the perfect picture of sexual contentment. I felt a stong temptation to snuggle up with him at that point, but I didn't. Like the kiss, it was a line that wasn't meant to be crossed. Not yet.

So that's the basics, missing many details I know you all would enjoy.  I only wish I could give you more.

5/10/09

Yeah, that pic was in the ad.  Goddamn, I gotta have that fattie.  Look at it: it's at least 4 times the width of that thumb.  I don't care if he's married (he's not).  I don't care if he wants to reciprocate (he doesn't).  So what if he's in the suburbs.  It's the weekend.  According to Google Maps, I can get out there in about 15 minutes.  No problem.  Well worth the effort.

Ooops.  Traffic.  Lots of it.  Damn.  Who'd have thought a weekend would be so f'n slow on the road.  Shit.  And then I get where I'm going, I go one exit too far, and I've gotta backtrack.  I'm getting aggravated.  But the drive through the pleasant, verdant, prosperous older suburb to his house is soothing.  So many nice, well ordered and properly funded lives in one place - well, it is kinda soothing.  But only kinda.  I'm late for a huge slab of non-reciprocating cock.

I pull into the parking area of some pleasant townhouses, and quickly find the right door.  I'm greeted by a somewhat heavy guy in basketball shorts.  Nothing special to look at, except that there's definitely something heavy in those silky looking shorts.  It swings slowly, tantalizingly behind the fabric, but it's not hard.  Not yet.  That's going to be my job.  

The place has bachelor written all over it.  No attempt at making it look nice.  The furniture's for comfort and easy TV watching.  There's a baseball game on the screen as I walk in.  Conversation reveals he's an accountant, and works from home.  Dude's very calm compared to my agitated state.  I ask to use the bathroom, as I've worked up a bit of a leak while stuck in traffic.  I note a home office next to the bathroom.  As I'm pissing, I note a discarded prescription bottle in the trash.  I fish it out and recognize it as an anti-depressant (weird side-effect of my work: I know a fair amount about prescription drugs).  OK, that accounts for his highly placid manner.  Curiosity piqued, I check the medicine chest.  There's another bottle of the same stuff, but no other prescriptions.  OK, no problem.

I step back out into the living room, and he chats amiably with me.  He's shy about getting me into his pants, so I deploy the time-honored ice-breaker: I stare.  He gets a little embarrassed and says something totally unoriginal like "you like that, don't you."  "Whip it out, bud, I'm here to blo you!"  I reach for the waistband of his shorts, and he does the same.  Together, we shuck his shorts in one smooth move.  He's commando, and I'm slightly disappointed.  Yeah, it's heavy, but short and not as fat as the pic had looked.  No time to back out now, though.  And it's still a tasty piece of meat.  I drop to my knees and start to work on getting him up.  He responds slowly, but steadily.  

He drops onto the sofa and I stay on him, highly encouraged by the progress of his hard-on.  His slow progress continues.  And continues.  And continues.  OMG this thing is HUGE.  I slow down to admire it periodically.  A true 6.5" long.  (Note my use of hte word "true".  A "true" 6.5 is big, well above average.)  But that's not what's so impressive.  Dude's got a serious fatty.  I mean I can't close my thumb and middle finger around this beast.  There's a good half-inch gap, even with a firm grip.  Wow.  I'm impressed.  I've handled a lot of cock in my day, and this one's a standout.  My jaw is straining to the limit. And my throat is totally stuffed.  I keep jamming as deep as I can go and loving it.  Tears are streaming down my cheeks, and my saliva's running like a stream.  Oh, god this is good.

But it's going on a long time.  I come up for air and he asks if I've had enough. Oh, no.  I can always use more of this.  Always.  I go down for more. But he's starting to lose his erection very slowly.  Damn.  I'm starting to think maybe I need to give him a graceful out.  I come up for air again.  He asks again if I've had enough, and I allow as how I don't think my jaw can handle the strain anymore.  "That's OK, because I don't think I'm gonna cum."  I pushed the idea of maybe he could beat off, but he shies away from that.   Not gonna push the dude.  "That's cool."  I compliment his meat again, and he pulls up his shorts.  I thank him for the opportunity to work on his exceptional meat.  He's clearly pleased to have the compliments, and he returns the favor, praising my cocksucking skill.  We part with mutual admiration.  Yes, I'm disappointed that there's no load to be had.  But the cock alone was well worth the effort.

In the car I note the time.  I was on his cock for at least 45 minutes.  I had no idea how long it had been.  Proof, once again, that time flies when you're having fun.

Back home, I have a flash: anti-depressants can impair orgasm.  Google confirms it.  It's a side effect of this particular medication.  Poor guy: one of the finest cocks in the entire state, and medication's keeping him from cumming.  

My jaw muscles are aching for the next couple days.  It truly was that thick.

I keep going back and forth as to whether I'd do him again.  Answer: yeah, maybe so.  But next time, I'm gonna make it an hour's worth.  Even if he doesn't cum.

5/3/09

Saturday night, I just plan crashed.  Tired.

But, Sunday.  On Sunday I was horny.  After running a bunch of errands in the morning, a quick romp on Craigslist landed me  a MWM who wanted head (a specialty of mine as regular readers know). I like when a guy knows how to ask for it, and he did directly.  In our email exchange I quickly learned he didn't want to reciprocate.  Ideal.  Use me, dude.  Within 5 rounds of emails, I had my destination.  One of our city's upper mid-range hotels, a grand old place that's now popular with the convention crowd.

I bike to his hotel, and arrive with a fine glow of sweat on me, and carrying my bike helmet.  (READERS: always wear a bike helmet - if you've gotten this far, we know you can read.  And if you can read, you know how to use your brain.  And your brain is why you need to wear a bike helmet.  Enough said.)  There's a hotel maid cleaning up the room across the hall, her big cart blocking the way.  I knock, and there's a long pause.  And the maid's right there, messing with some damned towels or the like.  I stand there, feeling awkward -- Hi!  I'm just a sweaty guy knocking on random hotel doors!  She disappears into the room she's cleaning, and my guy's door swings open, and he waves me in hurriedly.  Thanks for leaving me out there, bud.

There's the dude's photo, above, suitably blanked out.  As advertised, in his 40s, 5'9" and 160.  There's a blond next to him in the photo, not that means anything.

He's wearing one of those currently fashionable gothic lettered long sleeve t-shirts, and expensive jeans.  He's got gel in his hair.  A bit going gray.  Very nice looking man.  Is this as advertised?  The wedding ring, though, that's there.  Hmmm.   But he opens his mouth: southern.  OK, I get it.  Southerners are well dressed guys.  He's just a tad more fashionable than most.  He doesn't say much tho, and I simply reach out and grope him.  Already hard, that's nice.  He'd advertised 7", but it was an internet 7.  That's OK, the dick may be very average size - thickness and length (one of those ones that could be any size in a picture, because the proportions are so . . . average), but it's as hard a crowbar.  Sweet.

I go right to my knees and he goes right for his zipper.  I'm faced with a 5.5 incher that stands proud as a flagpole, and it's backed up with a neatly trimmed dark bush.  Lovely.  I'm swallowing the whole thing in a flash.  After a few moments, he sinks to the bed and lays back.  I keep swinging on that hard little fucker.  It's got a pronounced bend to his right, and a strong kink where it comes away from his pubic bone.  That's how it stands so proud.   And the last 2/3 swell up notably.  It's a real pleasure to suck this cock.  He's just big enough to touch my gag reflex occasionally, but I'm still giving him what must feel like full deep throat service.  He's lasting a long time, so I decide to mess with him more.  I go for his nips, I climb up to nuzzle his neck.  He lets me do it - no particular reaction, but he's a quiet guy from the start.  But he turns away decisively whenever I get anywhere near his lips.  I'd sure love to stick my tongue in his mouth, but he's clearly looking to avoid that at all costs.

At my suggestion, he straddles my chest, and I go back to work on him.  After a vigorous suck (he's lasted a good 15 minutes to this point), he pops.  Quietly, but copiously.  He's a good shooter, as I can feel him spurting.  Sweet.  Nice strong tasting thick load, a solid producer this dude.  I stayed on him to keep him warm for a while.  He was sensitive, whimpering at the slightest movement.  And there was some movement, because I wanted to cum, too.  He pulls out, and pivots away so that he's no longer blocking his own view of my meat, or my chest, where my load's clearly going to land and soon.   

And he's good enough to leave his softening - but still proudly vertical - cock close enough to my face that I was able to go down on him as I stroked off.  I spout off a major load pretty soon, a testament to my skilled hands and the extent of my badly pent-up need to pop a load.  And pop, I did.  Shoulder high.  He spoke admiringly of my shooting, pretty much the first thing he'd said past our initial greeting.

As we wiped up, he was pleasant.  From Georgia.  At an oncology conference - now I know why he needs some excitement.

I biked home through heavy traffic, enjoying the taste of his sperm all the way.

5/2/09

Saturday.  Nice day.  On my own.  And horny as a bear.  I'd been thinking of blowing off work the coming Monday and heading out to the burbs, and the wide open spaces of their forest parks.  Wide open spaces full of horny closety suburbanites inspired to get away from subdivision civilization to enjoy the freedom of the woods.  And if that means they feel freedom to open their trousers and show off their cocks?  Sure, I'm good with that.

Saturday proved such a nice day, I couldn't stop myself - even though I was undermining my Monday plans.  Weekdays are great at the forest parks, with a first wave of horny working men who show to fool around before work.  Go early, and you'll be rewarded with married guys who tell their wives "I'm going in early," when in fact they're in the park, looking for cock one way or another.  The best just want blow jobs, of course.  But Saturdays don't get that kind of trade.

Nonetheless, I was in the burbs, at my favorite spot, by 11:00 am.  And SHIT!  The road that goes deep into the forest, away from the recreational facilities and into the cruising grounds, was still closed off from winter.  In  freakin' May?  I'd noted online that there were more than the usual number of reports of park patrols.  Seeing the back shut off made me think: they want to stop the likes of me.  And there's a conclave of Pontiac GTO owners filling one of the parking areas.  Damn.  I'm not staying.  Except that first I gotta go pee.  

Coming out of the woods after taking a leak on a tree (which is such a very pleasant way to pee), there's a black Mercedes pulled up next to my car.  The owner - maybe 50, Polish (if the red and white flag on the side window means anything) gives me a nod and a wave, and says something conversational.  He's staring intently at my crotch, and that's giving me a little kick, so I'm starting to show.  We banter leeringly at one another and he winds up reaching into my pants from the driver's seat.  I'm wearing low-rise jeans, and quickly maneuver my cockhead above the waistband.  "Kiss it," I tell him.  He gives my knob a nice quick polish with his lips and pulls off.  That's it.  I think he felt off about the situation, too.  I dropped the remark that I'd heard there were lots of cops around here these days.  He quickly agreed.  I waved, got in the car, and drove off.

There was only one thing to do: to the big bookstore.  I was pissed that the woods were out of consideration.  Especially on this beautiful spring day.  The bookstore would have to do.  But I wasn't terribly psyched.  I was, however, sufficiently horny.

There wasn't much going on when I got there.  After a few minutes of milling around in wanders a heavyset middle-aged guy.  Greek, if I had to guess, wearing a mustache.  With a big gold cross on a substantial chain around his neck and a big gold band on his ring finger.  Married.  He wandered briefly around the place, and took a regular booth - no buddy window system.  But he left the door open.  I had followed him there and stood, as nonchalantly as possible, peering in the couple inches he left open.  Not looking up at me, and watching some straight porn, he fished out his cock.  His big, fat cock.  Top 10% in thickness, cut.  Hairy.  

He looks up, I nod and step into the booth.  I lean directly down and stroke his fat cock.  This short but really fat meat would be a really  magnificent weapon, if only this guy would lose 40 lbs.  (Not that he's unattractive - actually a good shape for his build.  But still heavy.)  He rubs my cock through my pants immediately, and I fish out my piece for him to play with.  He strokes me mechanically.  I push toward his face, but he resists.  Dude doesn't suck.  But yes, on inquiry, he wants a blow.

I go down on him.  He's stretching my jaw, but not gagging me.  This is actually a great combination - short and fat - take my word.   His thick dark bush smells richly of man.  Not freshly washed, but a  long, long way from rank.  This smell would stay with me.  He doesn't last too long.   He unloads in my mouth.  Not a huge wad, but thick and strong tasting, in a good way.  Quality jizz.  This was a way better blo than I thought it would be.  Call me a satisfied customer.  He pulls his jeans up without looking at me.  I slip out and wander off.  I note he drives away in a Toyota Highlander.

More downtime.  There's a strangely beautiful guy in a black leather biker jacket hanging around.  Late 30s, maybe, pale complexion.  Dark hair, crewcut.  6'1" or so, slim-to-average build.  Big sorta sad eyes, and sweet cocksucker lips I can sum up in a phrase: Black Irish John Travolta, who doesn't think of himself as beautiful.  I hope that summons a picture for the reader.  

He's leaning up against the corner of a booth at the end of long line of them.  I'm seized by a strong urge to pat his ass.  So I step around behind him with my back to the wall and stand close enough so he can't help but feel my warmth.  He remains nearly frozen, not acknowledging my presence or moving out of the way, so I reach for his butt and gently stroke just one side.  He doesn't flinch.  I'm almost entirely behind him, out of view of the rest of the place, but he's exposed.  I continue, working both sides, and probing deeper in between.  This goes on, even as someone is walking toward us.  We're finally interrupted by others who come at us from the side.  After a couple more bouts of this, he wanders off down the long row of booths.

I follow slowly, at a good distance.  He walks the length of the long hallway and steps into the farthest booth.  I follow and he's looking out of the booth, his gaze directed downward.  Nicely submissive.  I lock us in, and grab hold of his ass, and look him in the eyes I tell him to pull down his pants.  He obeys quickly, as I nuzzle his neck.  "You desperately want me to dry hump you, don't you."  He turns obediently and without a word.  I unzip and rub my cock against his gently hairy ass.  He rides along with me, clearly enjoying being mounted - even if it's only a half-measure, simulated sex.  I'm reaching around him to want his fat, average length cock.  I give his ass a couple good smacks on the flank and ask if he wants me to beat him with his belt.  He moans something that sounds affirmative.  I push him gently to his feet, and he goes willingly and is on my cock immediately.  He can deep throat, and he's good.  He's gentle and smooth, using his hand to follow up where his mouth has been.  A very talented cocksucker, so good in fact that I'm starting to think I could pop him a load if this continued.  I pull him off and bid to him to stand again.  He turns for me to continue humping his ass, but I want to get my tongue in his mouth.  I want to taste those great cocksucker lips.  But he resists me: "I don't kiss" as he holds me back.

What?!  A guy who can suck cock with the best of them, deep throat suck cock with the best of them, but he won't kiss?  Man, I tell you, you get some funny variations on closety in the burbs.  

I hump his ass a few minutes more, push him down for a little more head and then tell him I'm not wanting to cum yet.  As I button up I tell him I might enjoy really taking a belt to his ass sometime.  He just looks down and grunts.  I raise his face by the chin: "you'd like that, wouldn't you?"  He briefly looks me in the eye, then away again, and assents.  Yeah, he'd like something rough.  I leave wondering if he ever gets it.  I really might enjoy giving it to him if I ever see him again, but I sort of doubt he'd let himself do it.

Kill some more time.  OK, 55 and married.  Slacks, a pressed shirt and shiny loafers.  A bit heavy.  Nothing inspiring about him, nothing bad either.  In the booth, him seated, he's fascinated with stroking my cock.  His own cock, which he struggles to pull out with one hand while the other is occupied stroking mine, isn't anything special.  Average in every way.  Once again, I push toward his mouth, but he's not sucking today.  I solicit a blow, he consents, and I go down on my knees.  He doesn't last terribly long, and unloads a small tasteless load from his small, flavorless cock.  Not much to write home about here. 

Black Irish has gone, but now there's a very small framed well groomed nice looking guy - nice looking in a professional sort of way; he's the helpful young fellow at the bank branch - wandering around.  Too cute to be straight.  I sidle up and stroke his left ass cheek gently.  I'm having one of my small guy rape fantasies.  But we're soon interrupted.  After some going around, he invites me to join him in a booth.  Like Black Irish, he enjoys have his ass handled, but heartily resists a kiss.  I'm thinking I might get some good head out of him.  But no, all he'll do is lick along the shaft after lots of urging on my part.  He just wants to bedry- humped.  So I give him some more of that, then excuse myself.

That's enough for now.  I'm going to remain sexually frustrated for now.  Regular readers might have noticed I like that from time to time.

Need inspiration?

I like straight porn.  I really like to see a man use his cock.  Here's what I was watching, gratis I might add, while I wrote the previous post.

This is the finest sexual athleticism I've ever seen.  Plus the guy's got a jaw droppingly HUGE  cock.

Highly recommended.  Poetically named: German teen gets pounded in the barn.

http://www.tube8.com/teen/german-teen-gets-pounded-in-the-barn/110391/

(Sorry guys, I can't seem to get a simple link to work - can anybody tell me how to fix this?)

4/12/09

I put him off several times.  My ass was still sore.  But Mark (3/29/09, see below) wanted more, and I couldn't put him off further.  It had been my goal to have coffee with him and tell him my ass couldn't take his pounding, and we were going to have to handle this differently if it was to continue.  Unfortunately, that didn't work out.  The point at which I finally said yes, he was in a hurry and wanted to get off - not drink coffee. Fair enough, can't say as I blame him.  

I specified that I wasn't up for getting fucked, and told him I wanted to talk before we got down to business.  He was fine with that.  And so, when we met, he sat down and bade me sit down as well so we could talk.  Thank you, Mark.  Considerate.  Good for extra points on the non-lust side of the ledger.  I started stammering about how his cock was so thick, and the lube was lousy and his pace was relentless and my ass was still sore.  He knew how to handle me: let me babble, give me space and I'll fill it.  As I babbled on, I found myslef promising to go purchase a butt plug and some proper lube to loosen up for him.  He readily accepted.  

And he ordered me to strip, telling me he still intended to use me today.  I was all hot and bothered already, and it took me no time to strip and get on my knees.  Before I could get into his pants, he pushed me back and told me to remove his belt and give it to him.  I handed him the belt and he ordered me to straddle the corner of the bed.

"This is for taking so long to answer my email."  Whack, whack, whack!  My ass burned.  Mark can handle a belt, accurately placing each lash of the belt on the same spot.  He turned me around and assaulted my throat for a few strokes, and flipped me around again.  Whack, whack, whack!  I grit my teeth and keep silent.  Good of you, pal.  I thrive on taking a good licking with a belt.  

But in the end, this was to be an oral session to get him off.

I'd hoped I'd be able to work with Mark again on reaming my throat fully.  Recall that in my last session with him, Mark became the first man I ever deep throated, however briefly.  He pulled me over the side of the bed again and told me I was going to take his cock fully again.  I was enthusiastic.  For a while.  Somehow, Mark is unable to do anything but ram it in faster than I can handle, like he's wielding a battering ram.  He always seems to catch me off guard.  He really doesn't have any concept of working with me, I'm afraid.  In all fairness, this has been sort of the premise of our sexual relationship: he's gonna use me, so I shouldn't be surprised.  But it's not good.

His inability to coordinate with me left me gagging, and tasting my morning orange juice (this took place at 9:30 am, so it's not as bad as it sounds).  Not something I care to repeat.  I cried uncle faster than I care to admit.  Once again, we wound up with me sucking him for a long time, as he continuted to try to pound my throat at every turn and I fought him at every thrust.  He finished himself manually, and shoved his cock  into my mouth as he came.  His cum was thin and extremely salty.  Seriously, potato chip salty.  Never had it like that.  

UPDATE:  A couple days later, he emailed to ask whether I'd bought a butt plug yet.  I promised him I'd do it within a couple days.  I haven't yet.  He's emailed to say he's going to have me this weekend, and he's definitely going to fuck my ass.  I don't know.  I think I might need to stall for time.

FURTHER UPDATE:  He emailed.  I told him I couldn't do this weekend.  I'm stalling, and I need to decide where I want this to go.

FURTHER FURTHER UPDATE:  I haven't answered his last email.  And he hasn't written back.  I'm feeling sort of like a bum for not saying "thanks, but I don't think I can handle you any more."  But maybe it's best to just let it fizzle out.

4/4/09

Cold.  Rainy.  Windy.  Nasty.  Sunday.  Yuk.  You all know where my mind wanders to.  It didn't take long to find an ad from a guy who says, in short: "I'm a real estate agent showing a place (which is near me), and there's nobody here and I'm bored and horny."  Good, sounds like an assignment for me.  He allows, in correspondence, that he's married and has to stay discrete about this.  Better!

But meanwhile, I'm also going back and forth with a guy who posted an ad saying, in short: "MWM wants to get a group together this afternoon."  And just as I'm ready to go see the real estate agent, MWM emails saying 3:00 pm (it was about 1:30 at that point), promising 5 guys, and giving me an address.  I guess rainy Sundays can work out OK after all.

I head over to the real estate guy.  When I sign in at the front desk in the high-rise building, the doorman (actually, it was a chick - standards are slipping in the doorman business) pointed to a woman sitting on a sofa across the lobby and informs me she's a real estate agent.  Was I looking for her?  "No, definitely not," I offered quickly.  That's the last thing I need: a female real estate agent trying to get her hooks into me.  Fortunately, the door-chick did not press the matter further.  Elevator to 10.

The apartment door was ajar, inviting me in.  The agent greets me warmly, though there's no acknowledgement that I'm there to suck his dick.  He actually shows me around a bit before he squeezes his package and looks at me meaningfully.  I'm standing at the side of the bed when he does this, and he gestures for me to take a seat.  Nicely orchestrated, bud.

He's maybe 40, 5'9", 175.  Not great shape, not bad.  Sorta stylishly dressed - definitely more so than I.  (For those of you trying to get a picture of your blogger casually dressed, think outdoorsy, active kinda guy.)  No ring.  He plays with himself through his jeans for a minute, I help out.  He unzips.  The phone rings.  Damn!  It's the front desk.  The real estate agent viper in the lobby is bringing up some clients.  He apologizes, and encourages me to stay.  He urges me to take a couple long sucks on his nicely hardening 6 incher before quickly zipping up and fixing his shirt.  "Elevators are fast here, new construction building."  It's OK, you don't need to sell me.  I got a nicer apartment already. 

This place is in a shiny new all-glass tower in a great location.  One bedroom, very stylishly done up.  A little too stylish.  Not my taste.  This place that's going to look dated fast.  But it looks good now.  Shows well, as they say in the real estate biz.

The viper and a 50-something couple walk in.  She's extolling the virtues of the place, and introduces her clients to the guy whose dick was in my mouth not a minute before.  "This is ___, and as I told you, he's the owner."  What?  "And the listing agent!"  This seemed amusing to her, but not to me.  "And __, why don't you show [insert names of 50-something couple] all of the fabulous upgrades you've made!"  Gee, I thought the place looked pretty spun up.  The picture gelled.  I'd been had.  Someone on the internet had lied.  Surprise, surprise.  Well, I sorta thought my gaydar had gone off.  Damn, better get it adjusted.  This dude was gay, and upscale tacky too.  I'm out of here.

I interrupted his monologue on the new kitchen cabinets to say: "Well, ___, thanks for the tour.  I don't think this place is quite my taste."  And I marched out and down the hall to the elevator, leaving ___ with the viper and her clients.

But this was no big loss: I had another encounter not 45 minutes away.  No problem, I stopped at my gym (only a couple blocks from the site of the upcoming - could it be a 5-way?) and had a steam.  Ideal.

Out of the gym, I plowed on through the driving rain, cold and fog.  What a nasty day.  I arrived on time, and was able to survey the situation in the lobby, where the host had told us to collect.  Damn, there are several guys sitting around, looking like they're trying to appear they don't know each other.  And they all look quite acceptable for a nasty Sunday afternoon.  This is actually happening.  I push into the lobby and walk over to them.  The apparent ring-leader, 45, a little heavy, balding, immediately gestures to the group as I approach and he leads us past the doorman with a wave.  On the elevator, I'm taking inventory of the guys.  OK, next me: SWEET!  30ish, cute.  But seriously standoff-ish.  He eyes me sideways.  A heavy-set guy, crew-cut, maybe 50.  Looks fit.  A handsome, 40 tops, wavy-haired guy whose looks shouted "Erin, go bragh!"  Kinda dreamy eyed.  Nice.  And our host.

It's quiet, awkward in the elevator.  And it's a long ride to 45.  Our leader ushers is into a small one bedroom apartment.  Mezzuzah by the door.  I guess he's going to be cut, huh?  It's foggy up here, and scarcely anything of the view can be seen.  We all kick out of our shoes in the living room.  This place is a couple notches down, more lower-upper mid-priced furniture than the last place.  Tidy as all stinkin' get out.  Lots of pictures of our host and middle aged woman who, our host informs us, is due back later, so we all need to be out of there by 4:00.  OK, the wedding ring is real.

Everyone disrobes mechanically in the bedroom.  Our host is hairy, and has a nice chunky fat short dick.  The Irish guy has nice dark pubes, and a medium sized cock.  The body's OK, nothing special.  The heavy crew-cut guy.  Ummm, no thanks.  Shaved, and he has a long none-too-springy uncut cock.  Sorry.  The 30ish guy, however, has a HUGE dick - fat and long - and a sweet, shaved athletic mesomorph's body.  Delectable.  But very stand-offish.  Look in his eyes, and there's nothing there to connect to.  I'm starting to get the feeling he knows Irish guy.  They're hanging together.  Everyone's trading hands.  Our host gets on his knees and starts giving everyone a shot at his throat.  But the mesomorph won't allow it.  Irish guy goes for a round of cock-tasting as well.  I taste Irish guy briefly.   He's very passive, and, like the mesomorph, not really connecting.  5-ways are awkward.  And intricate to describe.  Yeesh.

Suffice to say, Irish winds up fucking the mesomorph.  It's clear to me now they're a couple, and they want to show off mesomorph.  And he shows well.  He remains as detached as ever while Irish is fucking him.  Irish cums.  I'd like a shot at mesomorph's ass, but he's not allowing that.  I get forward, and he allows me the privilege of getting a couple fingers into his stretched-out ass while he jacks off slowly.  He doesn't cum, though. He and Irish disappear into the bathroom.  Fuck this.  I've been teasing myself along now for a while, and I just lie back on the bed and let go an orgasm.  I shoot extremely well - some jiz actually got past my shoulder.  (Work those kegels, guys.  It's a kind of fitness that pays excellent dividends.)  The host and the other guy definitely to appreciate it.  They finish, too, as I wipe up.  It's about 3:35.  Our host's wife is back soon.  I wonder whether he's playing to get caught . . . wouldn't that be a fascinating scene?

The four guests ride down together, along with a woman from a higher floor.  Nearing the first floor, I, never one to hold back from asking an awkward question, ask Irish and the meosmorph, "So, do you two know each other?"  He shakes his head silently.  Mesomorph doesn't flinch.  I note that the two of them stay behind in front of the building as the other guy and I march off into the rain.

3/29/09

I'd corresponded with Mark for about a month - neither of us was quick about getting back to emails. What I knew: he was married, 45, and he was looking for someone to be his bitch.

We finally set up to meet Sunday morning at a coffee place. When I asked him how I'd recognize him, i.e., what was he wearing, he said "gray suit." Huh? On Sunday morning? Was he sneaking out of church or something? When I arrived a the place, there he was, right next to the door. Gray suit? Check. Turns out he's a hotel manager of some kind. Nice hotel, too, from the looks of the suit.

He was, as advertised, middle aged. Not in a bad way. But not what I call hot, either. But no matter, I'm still liking what I'm seeing. He's maybe 5'9", and 195. Not fat, but not in great shape, either. But healthy, just not sleek. Overall, he was definitely serviceable. And he had a great attitude. Told me in a very friendly, nonchalant way that once we got into it, I was going to do what he told me he wanted, wasn't I? Oh, yeah, you need a bitch. And I'm volunteering. We're off in a cab within 5 minutes.

Once we get into his place - an unmade-up hotel room, naturally - he was quickly in charge. "Strip" was his first order. I scrambled out of my clothes, while he took a decidedly leisurely path to nakedness. The first thing he did was to unzip and haul out his already hard cock. It was build like him: thick. I'd say it was a true 7", and a 6" around. Jutted straight out from his bod, and upward touch. Nice fat head. I was out of my clothes and on my knees - and on his cock - immediately. He kept undressing slowly. And oh, yeah, he likes to talk dirty. Good man. Demanding to know whether I like that cock,to which I answer with as enthusiastic an "uh huh" as I could with my mouth full of my cock.

Once he was naked, the average guy picture was complete. The man was not a gym rat, and had an average amount of unclipped body hair. Nothing special, nothing bad. And a really sweet cock. We got going on the bed, and he continued forcefully at me. When my gag reflex showed itself, he demanded that I lay my head back over the side of the bed. He stepped before me, and told me in no uncertain terms that I was going to learn to deep throat. Now.

He was right, I've never been able to deep throat. Strong gag reflex, what can I say? I've tried the hang the head over the side of the bed routine, never worked for me. I'd worked with bananas, trying to learn. Nope. I've had guys just push on my head, hoping I'll go deeper. But this time was going to be different. Mark smoothly, but without slowing or stopping, just pushed his fat cock past my gag reflex. It wasn't easy, but I simply couldn't gag. No opportunity. I pushed him back off me, and he relented. And gave me a moment. And went back in again. I fought him, he stayed a little longer. We did a couple more rounds of this before he let me up. I couldn't believe it. I'd just been properly throat fucked for the first time in my life.

But he wasn't going to give me a rest. It was time for me to get fucked. I went into this expecting to get fucked. But, damn, his cock is thick. He instructs me on the ground rules: I'm going to be on top while I get it in. But once it's in, and I say so, he's in control. OK, I signed on. Let's roll. I work it in. Yeah, it's big, and this isn't easy. Once I'm reasonably comfortable, he wants me standing, and bent over. He fucks me forcefully for a while, but it hurts. I beg for doggy style, on my knees. He allows this, but still fucks me hard and fast and it still hurts. He rolls me onto my back, and fucks me in a hard, fast, unstoppable way. It's good, but it still hurts. He finally lets me up, and orders me into the shower. We wash up, and puts me on my knees in the bathroom for the final push. He works my mouth good and hard, and finishes manually. The dude sprays really, really hard - not like a gentle rain, but more like hail - all over my face and chest.

He's normal and friendly afterward. Said affirmatively we're going to do this again, like his bitch ain't got no choice.

Back home, I was in pain. I mean raw. Really raw. And sore. Reminded me of how much I hate KY. Sorry, but water-based lube and my ass and latex just don't mix. I'd forgotten that. I don't take it up the ass too often. I remain in pain a good 4 days. If this is going to happen again, it's going to have to be different ground rules. Mark fucks like a guy who's never been fucked - which has its ups and downs.

UPDATE: one week later, he writes back. He wants more. I'm hesitating (9 days, at this point). Writing this post is giving me some impetus. I think he and I need to do another cup of coffee before he treats me like a bitch again. But I think it's gonna happen again.

Click here for THE REST OF THE STORY . . . .

3/28/09

Nasty stormy day. Good thing that I oughta find someone a block away who's 31, in a hotel and wants a no reciprocation BJ.

I get over there, he's about 5'10", 220, solid as a rock, probably Italian. Not pretty, but such a solid hunk of man that I was instantly taken. Wearing str8 guy athletic shorts & T. He says "How should do this? On the bed? A chair?" I told him anyway he liked it, and he dropped into the nearest chair and shucked his shorts. The cock was small, and the pubes were trimmed. Not an auspicious start, but like I say, I liked the look of him. I dove on his soft small cock, and started slurping happily. He was clean, with just a hint of his native crotch smell starting to rise. Very sweet. I sucked away for a while, and he didn't seem to be getting any harder. I went for his balls, try and relax him a little, and he pulled on his cock a bit trying to get it going. I sucked him some more, and he still wasn't getting hard.

He says, "damn, the guy's just not getting hard." I guess he calls his cock the guy? Works for me. He suggests we move into the bedroom, and I say to him, "anyway you want it." I shuck my shirt on the way into the bedroom to give him some skin to rub up against. I get back on his cock, but still no success. He acknowledges it again, and suggests he'd get hard if he could fuck me. "Sure, bud. I'll go there." We go back into some more sucking, then I just go down on his balls and let him stroke. That gets him harder, and I go down on him for a while. I'd say that was a genuine 4.5 inches, and nicely thick. Just small enough there was no way he was going to gag me. And when he's hard and stroking smoothly in and out of my mouth, he gets verbal and is definitely enjoying it. I try going slow, thinking maybe he's putting to much pressure on himself. But he soon fades.

He raises the ass fucking option again, and tells me he'll get the rubber if I'll get out of my jeans. Yes indeed! He comes back and rolls it on, gets me onto all fours and starts pushing his cock at my ass. He does a respectable job of rubbing my asshole, but never really gets in - it didn't help that he was holding his cock, and so his hand was getting in the way of his already short cock going deeper. He finally gives up in frustration. I think he's going to just send me off. And I'm not going to let that happen. No one fails to get off, or at least have a really good time when I'm on the job.

So I suggest: straddle my face, and I'll work your balls, and down lower (wink, wink) while you just beat off - no pressure. He agrees and he mounts my face. I'm fellating his balls like nobody's business, and moving lower. And lower. And lower. He's good and clean, and his ass is nicely hairy. I'm loving this. And he's doing much better. I crawl out from under him, and come around behind him to hump his ass and nuzzle his neck and pinch his nipples (which he really liked). He's pounding hard and fast, his hand a blur, and it's working. He starts breathing heavily and I swing my face down to his crotch. He wants my mouth, definitely, and leaves me plenty of room to get in there. He lets me finish him after pushing himself over the edge manually. He shoots powerful shots of really tasty cum. I stay on him as long as he likes it, which is a while. When we disengage, I grab the cup by the side of the bed and drop his load.

When I tell him what I'd really like is to make him taste his own, he giggles nervously and turns away. I won't push it. We actually lay back a couple minutes while I tell him that as frustrating as he may have found this, I still had a great time. I assured him he's a hot dude. And I wasn't trying to make him feel good - I really did have a good time. Yeah, he didn't perform like a stallion. But he was upfront about it, and glad to try alternatives. That was enough. Plus, he's a hot, regular guy, and I liked that about him.

Out of curiosity, I followed up on a hunch and asked him: "do you usually get it guys?" He allowed as how no, he didn't. As I figured. In very friendly conversation as I pulled on my clothes, he did drop that he was divorced. He remained naked, and I remained attracted. He picked up the cup I had spit into, and I noted how handy that was. He said that's the way he's always done it. "You don't wipe up with your socks and get 'em all crusty?" "Nope. Sometimes I even drink it down!" "Seriously?" "Yeah." I'm dumbfounded. Clearly thinks of himself as straight, but he's long been drinking his own cum? Wow.

I came up from behind him as he dumped the cup, and felt up his ass, noting that he'd liked that earlier. He stopped rinsing the cup and enjoyed it, and even briefly gave in and rested his head back against mine. For a moment, he relaxed.

So what was his story? I think that in fact he hadn't done much of this guy thing, and had gone into this experience a lot of expectations - mostly about how he'd perform. And that got him. I think he also wouldn't let himself really enjoy my body - he wasn't ready to go that far. And that made the whole thing difficult.

I told him again that I really did enjoy it, and if he wants more, he's got it. He reacted positively, though I don't expect to hear from him, given this wasn't easy for him. But goddamn, I'd love to get him relaxed sometime.

3/22/09

Goddamn! I found the electrician guy again! And he's just as hot to trot! Oh, man, I like this a lot. It was the same routine. Hook up at the infamous park, and take it to a less infamous place for the real action. I trusted him enough now that I left my car behind at the first place as he drove us out to the quieter spot to actually get it on.

Remember in the first post below that I wasn't entirely sure about his mention of the 'wife and kids'? I'm sure now. Just as we were getting down to business in the back of his van - he's sitting on a cooler, I've got my face buried in his sweet, well-stuffed crotch - his phone rings, and he apologetically says "I've gotta answer this." I kept my face planted in his groin, chewing the tight denim, and I can overhear a woman's voice, seeking guidance on whether to fix some food or something. He's telling her in a forceful, kinda disrespectful way that that's a stupid idea. There's a definite husband/wife dynamic here. He wasn't kidding. When he gets off the phone, he explains his parents are at his house, and his wife is thinking of feeding them lunch at 3:00 pm, which is apparently the stupidest thing he's ever heard. He just wants her to have dinner ready at 6:00. This guy likes to tell me about his life, I'm finding.

He fishes out his cock and I go to town. It's just as big as I remember. And it gets just as hard as I remember. F'n heaven, this cock is. He encourages me to drop my pants and stroke, too. And this time, I'm in the mood for it. I'm lying on the floor of the van at his urging, and I've kicked off my shoes and shed y pants. He's kneeling over me while I (a little awkwardly) blo him. But it doesn't take long for him to manuever over me and start sucking me. Just an inch or two, in proper str8 guy fashion. And he doesn't say he's gonna do it - I'm going totally on feel to determine he's blo-ing me. And meanwhile his fingers are starting to work my ass. This dude likes to play with my ass. He gets one spit slicked finger about an inch in. My mouth's full of his cock, and I'm moaning like a bitch.

"You want me to fuck you?" he asks. Like I'm going to say no? I breathlessly grunt out my ascent. He pulls out and repositions himself behind me, urging me onto my knees. He's rubbing his cock on my ass, and I'm about to melt. Somehow I manage to get together the strength to request a rubber. "Yeah, I think I got one here somewhere." He moves off me, leaving me submissively on my knees, and starts rooting around under the edge of the floormat. Out of a little spot under the mat, bingo, he finds a rubber. Dude's prepared. Except he's got no lube, save my spit. He really doesn't know what he's doing here. I wet him down, and help him slip on the rubber, and wet down the outside of the rubber. I know this is hopeless - a cock as big as his (see photo a couple posts below) is definitely not gonna make it up my ass with no more than spit for lube. This isn't gonna work, not without serious additional lube. But I let him try.

He gently works pressing at my asshole for a couple minutes. I moan and groan, because I'm loving it. He clearly has no idea how difficult it is to do this. But I let him try. He's finally good enough to realize this isn't gonna happen, and pulls off the rubber and invites me to start sucking again. Which I do with great enthusiasm. I'm still lying on the floor of the van, with him kneeling to my side, giving me his cock. He's urging me to get off myself, though he's not giving me any more head. After a couple minutes, he starts beating his own cock, and I get the picture and start wanking my own in a serious way. "Do you want me to cum in your mouth?" Like you need to ask, buddy. I moan out a yes, as I'm getting pretty close myself. He drips some cum onto my face - dude, for all his good qualities, isn't much of a shooter. And the taste puts me over the edge. I shoot a solid load, nearly neck high (work your kegels regularly, guys - it really works). Dude's very impressed by that, and urges me on. He's full of praise for my shooting as he gets me a napkin to clean up. I'm still lying on my back, breathing hard, and putting on my best inner slut I ask him if I can taste his cock again. He's glad to oblige, so I slurp on his softening member while I wipe up.

I pull my pants on again, and he's totally friendly, wanting to talk, wanting to tell me more about himself. I hear about his kids (2 daughters, a son - one of the daughters is dating a lawyer), the 20 year old Mercedes he hardly ever drives (bought new, still has kiddie car seat marks in the leather). I think he's got a little bit of social anxiety about being the electrician who's messing around with someone with higher occupational standing. He wants me to admire him. And I do, not least because of his beautiful and awesome cock. It's OK, dude, I'm into you.

As we drive back to my car, maybe a mile away, he tells me he tried to call me recently when he was in my neighborhood. I encouraged him to give it another try sometime. I want more, dude. Someday, good and slow (and well-wrapped and even better lubed), I'm going to take that cock all the way.

3/18/09

Day off.  Cock's my goal.  What else would it be?

Started working CL.  OK, this sounds good: married male seeks 3-way.  He's got someone at his office who'll play?  Almost too good, I think.  But I'll pursue this.  Boatload of messages back and forth.  Finally, he instructs me to meet him on the 18th floor of a partly empty office building.  Interesting, weird.  But I'm motivated.  Keeps telling me he's running late, but the other guy might be there.

And indeed, there's another guy there.  Maybe 25, hispanic, reasonably attractive.  I get off the elevator, he greets me.  Semi-dark hallway.  He's just gotten another delay text from the guy I've theoretically been talking to.  But I'm getting suspicious about this supposed third guy.  And rightly so - he just isn't materializing.  But fine, the guy who's actually there is hot to trot.  Wants me to feel him up, loves it when I rub the prominent hard spot in his trousers.  He whips it out for me - uncut with some quality foreskin, average length, a little thicker than average.  Pronounced bend to the left.  He's happy to have me chew on his foreskin for a while.  

He's skittish, though.  He'll only look at my cock.  And he keeps making like guy number 3 is gonna show up.  He wasn't a brief slow-down.  Nope, I'm not taking any more of this.  I'm gonna get you off, buddy, and end this charade.  So against his protests, I push him up again the wall and start humping him.  He protests, but he's still enjoying himself a whole lot.  I push him to his knees and try to at least rub my cock on his face.  No dice.  But somehow, I maneuver him onto the floor and proceed to dry-hump him 'til, telling me to stop, that he's gotta wait, he cums from no more than the excitement of being humped.  

He's annoyed that he's nutted on himself, but  my attitude is: FU, bozo.  Glad you don't like it.  He begs to see me cum, but I'm not gonna give him the satisfaction.  Sorry.

I'm in the elevator and outta there before he can pull himself together.  Weird.  Kinda fun.  But not again, thanks.

Note I didn't cum.  

Back home, I spot an ad from a businessman I'd seen before.  Sends out a pic of himself i a suit, standing on the roof of a high-rise, with a stupendous view.  Married, works near me.  We'd exchanged messages before, but hadn't pulled it together.  This time it's gonna work.  And yup, it does.  He instructs me to come to the doorman at the fanciest women's club in town.  The kind of place a lady needs to be born into.  OK, I'm game, but this is a highly unlikely scenario.

On arrival, I'm waved right upstairs to his office.  This place is so old-school they've still got an elevator operator.  Must be the last one in the city.  The guy I'm to blo apparently runs the place.  Wacky.  Getting to his office, I pass a room full of WASPy ladies taking tea.  Very wacky!  A secretary at a little desk calls the manager for me.  Oh, he's on the phone.  Please have a seat on this little lady-like chair.  OK.  A couple minutes later, out comes the manager ni question.  As billed, 50ish, wearing a nice suit & tie.  There's the wedding ring, yup.  He greets me with a handshake, and we step into his office and he closes the door, which has a large frosted glass panel in it.  The ladies having tea are just down the hall, and the assistant is at the desk outside.  OK.

He steps over to the side of the office, and immediately unzips.  His cock is small and soft.  But I get right to work.  He stiffens up slowly, and before he's really what I'd call hard, he nuts.  He hands me a kleenex, and thanks me warmly.  "C'mon, let's make like I'm going to go show you something."  We walk out of his office and into the stairwell where he bids me good-bye, and tells me he'd be glad to do this again.  I thank him, and act more enthusiastic than I really am.

Back on the street, I'm shaking my head.  Does this guy have a strong urge to get caught or something?  Wacky, wacky, wacky.  But fun enough.

3/1/09

A Cocksearch 2009 first: a photo. Read on, I will explain.

Out in the burbs this afternoon. Watch out, local forest preserves, I'm there and I'm on a mission.

And this one was fast. I pulled in, and driving along the road spot a mid-size commercial van, though with no markings on the outside, and there's a pair of feet under it on the other side of the van. As I pull slowly by, I see a dude in tight jeans and a tight t-shirt. The look's not gay. It's '80s. A fly in amber, tastes set in 1982. Now maybe in his 40s, in nice shape, good looking. Just dated. He's getting back into the van. I note a muscular ass, strong shoulders. He's in good shape.

I pull in next to him, a couple spaces away. We immediately exchange glances that show we're paying attention, but no more. After a couple minutes, I step out (into 18 degree cold) and over to his window. He rolls it down, very friendly. "Damn, it's cold. I step out to take a piss and nearly freeze to death." He's in his later 40s, tan -- the real kind -- well groomed. Remember those tight, wide-ribbed t-shirts from the '80s? Yup. He was clearly the hottest, coolest guy in his high-school class, madly desired by female cheerleaders and in-the-closet gay boys who didn't dare even approach him. Conversation reveals he's an electrician, and he's got a killer working-class accent and demeanor. I'm so there.

His remarks about freezing his dick off surely gave me a good opening. "Well, I hope you didn't damage anything," I say, eyeing his crotch. He laughed, and I proposed he show me what he's packing. He declines, citing the public nature of the place. No problem. We banter on a couple more minutes, and I ask him if he wants a blo, and he gives me a grin and says "yeah". And follows up asking whether I like getting my cock sucked. Of course, Mr. Working Class Disco Hunk.

He doesn't like where we are. Wants to go to another, less cruisy park, one I'm not familiar with. Fine, I'll happily follow. I pull out after him, and note on the back of his van a small Italian flag. I've got your number, goomba, and I like it just fine. I miss a light along the way, and a couple minutes behind him, I pull up next to him and hop into his van.

We talk a second, both of us rubbing our jeans. He asks whether I'm "clean", as he's got a wife and kids at home. The wife and kids part is a surprise, give the tan and his well-groomed, sorta vain appearance. And no ring. I assure him, I only play safe. (Which, if cocksucking is safe, is true. But geez, if he'd read this blog. . . . ) I reach over to feel him up, but he proposes we move to another location, further back, given that it's busy here. I agree. It is busy here.

Back we go, me riding with him, and park. I seize the initiative and massage his crotch and ask him what's he packing? He unzips readily, and up there at the top of the blog was what I saw. My jaw dropped. This fucker was beautiful. Thick, flashy, fat, tasty. I eagerly go down on him. It got bigger and harder, so fat and thick that it stood straight up - impressive for a 40-something - when I came up for air, or when he spotted a car coming, which was rather often. This guy was a little nervous, given that we were in a van, parked facing inward. But I won't quibble with precaution out here.

I tell him, between slurps, that this is the finest piece of meat I've seen in a long time. He responds, modestly, that "I'm not that big." Oh, yes, you are that big. He hauled out some poppers, a totally spent little bottle, explaining that "the family" doesn't get to snoop around in his van. The bottle may be low, but it's still working. I plunge back on him as he reaches around the back of my pants and fingers my ass. I'm working harder, he's asking if I mind if he cums in my mouth, I grunt and groan, making it clear that his sperm would be quite welcome. He tells me he's close.

But another car pulls through and he tells me to get up. Then back to it, him fingering my ass more, inquiring whether I'd like to get fucked. I rise up and tell him yeah, but express concern that he's so big: "it's gonna take a lot of lube and a lot of patience, but I'd take you on," I tell him. He just smiles and presses me back down onto his cock. Then another car drives by.

A couple more cycles of this, and it's becoming clear he's not gonna cum - I think he lost it when the car went by and called me off. But before it becomes a burdensome situation, he takes matters into his own hands and strokes off quickly, letting me slurp on him as he pumped his fist. He was a dripper, not a sprayer. I got a good taste of his jizz - medium taste, thick. Nice. Kept his cock warm for a couple minutes after he came.

When I came up off him, he'd softened, but was still big. Sweet floppy piece of sucked dry meat. I slurp it in again, he tells me that feels great. I come up off him, and fight off the urge to kiss him. I don't think he goes there.

He's totally friendly after he cums. Asks if I'm gonna cum. Seems disappointed that I'm not, but understanding about how I'd been gagging on his cock and that took the lead out of my pencil, so to speak. Really friendly nice guy. There could be potential here if I want more.

He leaves his pants down as we talk. I tell him again what a great cock he has. He soaks up the praise, but insists he's not that big. I tell him, fine, maybe not that big, but still the finest piece of meat I've ever seen. (OK, maybe that went a bit far; I've seen a lot of meat, after all - but his truly ranks.) Flipping my camera phone in my hand, I jokingly tell him I'd like a picture of that beauty, and he's into it, kinda posing, moving his hand out of the frame. I tell him no, I want your hand in there for scale. He obliges immediately, and I take the pic above.

And sure enough, as we drive back to my car and I tell that if he wants more, he's got it, he asks for my phone number. Dude, absolutely you've got my phone. He writes it on the back of his electrician's union book. Sweet.

UPDATE: I ran into the electrician again! For an account, see above, 3/22/09.

2/16/09

Aquaman was another guy I'd talked to online before.  I'd answered an ad of his, and talked very briefly with him a couple times.  Once, I'd managed to get out of him that he was well disposed toward maybe a little roughness - spanking, etc.  The other time I talked to him,  I'd kept him in mind for several months, and here it was, Monday morning.  I'm phenomenally horny, and I've got the day off.  Excellent.

And there's Aquaman.  Nice.  I quickly close a deal to come out to his place in the burbs.  It's maybe 9:00 am at this point.  I tear out there and find his golf-course townhouse.   And per his instructions, I let myself into the house, go upstairs into a bedroom, and strip.  I get on my knees and await him.

He kept me waiting a few minutes.  Fine by me, I'm very stimulated at this point.  When he comes into the room, he's as advertised.  30ish, 6'3, 225.  Solid, reasonably worked-out.  Sweet.  His cock's soft, and smaller than the pics I'd seen - though it was the same cock.  Guess he's a grower.  He comes up to me, and immediately puts a leather blindfold on me.  Nice - dude's got equipment.  It consists of two pads over the eyes, and an adjustable strap.  Boom.  Darkness.  

I've never done this before, and I like it.  From there he instructs me firmly to start sucking.  I work him up into a nice errection quickly, and give him nice slow wet head.  He's very verbal, doing a great job of communicating what he wants, and how much he's enjoying it.  Excellent.  We go through several cycles of me sucking him, him telling me to lick his balls, or bend over for a spanking, then back to sucking.  He gives me a great verbal work up to his noisy orgasm, and blows a healthy load of very sharp salty cum into my mouth.  I stay on him for a while after he shoots.  When he pulls out, he hands me a towel.  Thanks, thoughtful.  

On my way out, he gives me a big bear hug, lifting my feel off the ground.  Urges me to stay in touch, which I think I'll do.

2/4/09

I'd been talking to Tater on yahoo for a couple weeks.  I saved his ad:

MWM Seeking to warm up with someone - m4m - 37 (Downtown)

MWM looking to find someone to help continue my MM education.  I have enjoyed is a couple 

of times and want some more.  

Me: 6'2", 210, 7" cut and thick.  Very clean and expect same.  Like oral and j/o, never analed but 

would be a top if we go there.

Who's ready to come over and get warm?

I emailed back with a pic, and he started rousing me on IM everytime I went online.  In conversation, I learned he liked to watch himself cum, that he wouldn't mind sucking some cock himself, but wouldn't dream of having someone cum in his mouth.  Sent me a pic of himself, little heavyset, balding, standing on a dock.  Big solid straight guy.  It all fit.  I was hooked.

I toyed with him a bit, mostly because we're in the depths of a cold winter, and I'm not always ready to take a 15 minute walk in 15 degree weather.  But one night, I got motivated to go meet him sometime in the afternoon.  I hopped on yahoo as soon as I got home, and sure enough, Tater hopped online.  And as always he was nudge, nudge, nudging me to come over.  This time I said sure.

I met him in the lobby of his building;, he told the doorman to let me in.  He was dressed in basketball shorts, t-shirt and sandals.  Just like his pic: built like a brick shithouse, every one of the promised 210 lbs. in place.  Not handsome, not fancy - but still a solid specimen of a man.  He had told me online he really wanted me to pull my dick out in the elevator.  I had consciously started myself into a turgid state on my way over, so I was ready for him.  I whipped it out promptly in the elevator, while nonchalantly asking "do they have cams in these elevators?"  

"I dunno," he replied with a grin, stroking my cock roughly.  Yeah, he's got the straight guy touch - where they take the term "beat your meat" seriously. The apartment's virtually empty - just standard issue cheap furniture supplied by the landlord.  It's got corporate apartment written all over it.

He immediately proposes we get in the shower.  Won't turn you down on that, Tater.  He's already good and hard.  Short, but very fat cock.  I successfully fight back the urge to tell him "lose 30 lbs. and gain an inch," but he's a definite candidate.  Nice cock, especially at one inch longer.  In the shower, he's all about getting his hands on my junk.  I take a short , wet slurp on his cock.  He pushes me back after a few moments.  Oh, yeah, he'd warned me: he's got a short fuse.  I told him I get off on short fuses.  (The love of my life still, at 48, is a blazingly fast cummer.  But I didn't mention that.  We're in 'curious' league here.)

He gets right down on his knees and starts blowing me.  Yeah, we're totally ready to get curious, aren't we?  And yeah, he sucks cock like a straight man, confirming my assessment.  Bobs his head up and down at maximum possible speed on the first inch or so of my cock.  This is not good head, but the warm water's nice.  Not wanting a lot more of his well-intentioned abuse, I stand him up and propose we get out of the shower.  He doesn't want to.  OK.

He moves quickly to soap up my ass, and start fingering me.  He's really fascinated with my asshole, but a bit rough.  He gets about an inch of finger in and starts rough fingering.  I'm wanking him.  To spare my ass, I pulled off him, maneuvered him around and started dry-humping his crack (well, no, soapy wet-humping), and he was eating it up.  OK, we're a big old bottom waiting to happen, aren't we?  Except for the wife and kids, of course.  

I propose getting out of the shower again.  Nope, he likes it.  OK.  He gets down and starts abusing my cock with his mouth, and my ass with his soapy index finger.  This is actually not bad . . . .  But he doesn't want me to shoot in his mouth, and I don't get off easy in BJs anyway.  I let him go a while and then told him it was my turn.  You're a quick cummer?  Good, that puts me in charge.

I got on my knees, and gave him my slowest and best.  He popped off in under a minute.  Big, sharp, tangy load.  If this stuff were cheese, it'd be a good ripe brie.  Nice.  I'd threatened in our IMs to make him taste his own.  But he pulled back when I went in to do it.  OK, that's fine, boy.  If we do this again, I'm gonna make you take it.  And make you admit later you wanted to.  

Since we're still in the shower, it's easy to spit out the load.  And that was it.  Out of the shower, dry off.  We talked about ourselves as I got dressed.  I was right, corporate apartment.  And yeah, wife & kids in the Southwest.  He spends Thursday through Sunday nights at home.  And is practicing to be a bottom the rest of the week.

He's fun.  I think I'll see if he wants to go another round sometime.

1/22/09 . . . that night

I hadn't cum for a reason.  There's a guy who beat my ass once, you see.  Left me black and blue on my butt, after a three hour session of him edging in my mouth.  Seriously, made me suck him off and on, always very slowly while ticking his saliva-slicked balls, for three hours.  Once or twice he popped a squirt at me, making me consume every drop, which I treated like gold. We alternated between my carefully ministered oral attention with periods of him beating my ass with a hairbrush, while holding me in great suspense about what he'd do next.  And he'd pin me to the bed, and sort of tickle me under my arms, but too slowly for it to be tickling - and all the time he'd stare dead straight into my eyes, betraying no emotion.  That and making me watch a video of a really serious cat-o-nine-tails whipping.

Only after the longest cock-sucking session of my life did he actually pop his full load.  And then had me stay on him at least another half-hour, when (actually, I'm not totally clear on this) he may have popped another shot.  

Overall, one of the top sexual experiences of my life.

But dude lives 1700 miles away.  I've only ever had him once.  We email, though.  And he's ordered me to make him a video of me beating my own ass.  And I will comply, because I know he's going to be back in town sometime and my ass is so his when he gets here.

I've done this once before.  This time, I've got an 18" steel ruler.  I'm going to beat one side of my ass with it good and hard.  Or, at least as hard as I can on my own, which is less hard than one would expect.  I'm also, on his prior instructions, to jerk off and eat my cum.  Yes, Sir.  It always makes me a little ill to eat my own, but I'll do it for him.

The twist is I'm going to do this live, online.  He's not watching, I'm recording it for him.  So I drum up an audience on cam4.com, and by the time I've promised to "beat my own ass and eat my own load", there are about 30 guys (OK, I'm assuming there were not women watching) were online to witness me give my ass 25 whacks with a long, solid ruler.  I did it, as I promised, with one whack for good measure.  

Pumped a HUGE load into my hand - remember, I'd been messing around without cumming all day.  Actually filled my hand.  Took three slurps to down it.  Disgusting.  But I'd promised.  And the guy who beats me, he wanted it.

The online crowd enjoyed my show, if the comments were to be believed.  Surely the first time I've ever cum in front of 30 guys, much less beating my ass or downing my load.

Completely drained.  Completely, that orgasm drained me.

1/22/09 . . . later that day

Had to run to the gym by the time I made it home.  Did a little upper body weight stuff.  Gotta keep the physical plant in shape in this business.  Not at my usual club, and the steamroom's a pretty happenin' spot.  

Repaired to the sauna with a 6'1'" 185ish dude who's got a gorgeous bod, but a not so hot face.  Licked his nipples, jacked his cock, nuzzled his neck.  Very sensual guy, responded like a cat.  He popped after a few minutes.  Nothing special, kind of a dripper, and no especially great quantity.  A forgettable load, but a tasty bod.

Time's getting short, place is about to close.  Stepped into the steamroom and scored almost immediately with a guy who'd been in there just a few minutes before, while I was next door in the sauna with Mr. Not-So-Special-Load.  Time being short, I sat down next to him, down the bench - even though I had plenty of options not so close.  I was promptly rewarded with some under the towel fidgeting, and he hauled it out in no time flat.  Sweet 30ish, athletic bod, olive-skinned South American - I think I picked up somewhere a hint he's Argentine.

His cock's a solidly average 6, but uncut with a velvety smooth foreskin and a pronounced bend to the left.  Springy-hard.  Sweet.  Neatly trimmed, but not shaved pubes.  He didn't want the blo I offered, but said he wanted to jerk.  He reached for me, and I for him.  He stood and pushed it toward me, which was almost too much to bear without going down on him.  As I jerked him, and he breathed harder, I sank to my knees.  When he came, thanks to his own efforts, he shot his load on my chest.  Thank you, thank you.  Enjoyed that.

Place was closing and I got out of there promptly, still without having cum.  

1/22/09

Out in the burbs.  Hit the forest park, the part that's open in winter.  Not there long before I scored.  Big black Jeep Commander.  Guy did a total double take as he went past me, so I followed.  Pulled in and parked, and I hopped right out to talk to him.  Maybe 55, married.  Not bad looking, but not something I'd want to take to bed, either.  But he was easy.  A simple request to see "what are you packing" got me a show.  Not big, but already hard.  Not shaved, thank you sir.   No pussy-footing around here - I got straight to the point and asked him if he needed a blo.  And he did.

But he didn't like the location.  Some other guy had pulled in about a hundred feet away.  He wanted to move.  That worried me that this was gonna go nowhere.  Still, I followed as he pulled out, and, well, we did go somewhere.  Just a more innocuous spot on the roadway parking area.  I hopped out again, and had to do a little selling this time.  He was a little reluctant.  Said he was concerned that he would make a real mess because he hadn't cum in several days, and he'd been playing with it for a while.  Like you consider this a problem, dude?  No, I didn't say that.  No, I told him the best way to avoid a mess was to have my lips wrapped firmly around you cock when you cum.  Promise no mess.  That got me an OK.  I made for the passenger side right away, and he clicked the locks open.  I hopped in, and went straight down on him.  Dude came extremely quick.  Like not even 15 seconds.  And he wasn't exaggerating: the load was huge, and my assessment wasn't thrown off by having a mouth full of saliva from vigorous cocksucking, either.  Not time to build up a mouthful.

I spat it out and asked him what was his secret?  Special diet or something?  he got a big kick out of that.  I have him a sincere thank you, and I was outta there, as he was too.

Ooops, I forgot to cum.  Actually, he wasn't interested in that.  Didn't lay a hand on me.  But still, I didn't cum.

So it was off to my fave suburban dirty bookstore.  Wasn't much going on there.  I watched a couple movies, but there was nothing worthwhile around until in walks a probably 22 year old kid.  To my surprise, he immediately took up with me.  Smaller guy, maybe 5'7", and skinny.  Sweet medium size cock.  Nice bush, but a tight, smooth body.  But the key thing was he was a sensuous little guy.  Loved when I nuzzled his neck.  Sounded like he was gonna cum when I opened his shirt and went for his nipples.  We fooled around a good 15 minutes, but I didn't want to cum.  Not quite yet.  And as fun as he was, he wasn't my type.  I don't think he was ready to shoot it yet, either.  So we parted ways in a highly amicable manner.  

Not two minutes later, in walked a guy I've seen before in the park.  He's a very straight looking, clean-cut guys, with stickers for his prestigious Catholic college on his spendy import sedan, and a big college ring.  Clearly a professional guy, and by his looks, the only thing missing is a sorority girl wife.  Indeed, it's kinda sad he hasn't got one, because he doesn't seem complete.  I've run into him maybe 4 or 5 times over the last 5 years, once before at this bookstore.  I always chat him up (at least at the park), because he's cute and clearly conflicted.  He may have shown me his cock once, briefly.

But this time was totally different.  He connected with me immediately, and followed me straight into a booth.  He whipped it out immediately.  Small, hard, and hairy.  He didn't want a blo.  He just wanted me to beat him off.  OK, no problem there!  Some good wanking later, he accepted my proposal to lick his nuts.  I went to town.  Nothing better than fresh, hairy nuts when you can't have actual dick.  He took over the wanking, he was enjoying the nut job so much.  After a few minutes of fairly vigorous work - dude's too used to his right hand, maybe? - he pushed my face off his nuts.  He wanted to cum on me.  Sweet.  He shot some distance, got a good squirt on my neck, more on my upper lip.  Zipped up and went without further ado.  

I was glad to have had a taste of him.  Someday, maybe, he'll drop his defenses and beg me to fuck him.  I hope.

It was getting late, and if I wanted to get to the gym, I needed to get home.

1/10/09

Extremely horny.

So I got on Craigslist.  Found: British Visitor.  Sounds good.  He wants me to suck him off, with a rubber.  Sure, why not?  Looks like a nice cock from the dark and fuzzy picture.  Of course, when I got over to his hotel, I found out why the picture looked dark.  He is of Indian extraction.  No matter, he's a nice looking guy.  Maybe 5'10, 185 lbs and 30 y.o.a.  Glasses, nice wavy dark hair.  Wearing his B-School sweatshirt and jeans.  Jeans with a pronounced lump in them.  Very pronounced.  

I reached for it, as he said: "there may be another guy coming."  No matter, I wanted to a taste of the sausage I had in my hand.  I started struggling with his zipper.  "You want me naked, man?" I asked.  "Yeah."  He actually sounded enthusiastic about it, though he didn't touch my cock.  And I was hard, and I'm big - fairly irresistible, in my experience.

He pressed for the rubber.  Darn.  Hoped he'd get carried away.  We got him wrapped up, and I started to work on his fat cock.  A serious (non-Internet inches) 7, and fat.  Fat from root to tip, and uncut.  Stood up with an outward curve.  Stood straight up.  Impressive.  Pronounced bend to my right.  This piece of meat is heaven.

"Knock, knock."  Damn, the other guy's there.  He's 30ish, blond, tanned, Polish.  Cute, but kinda distant.  Can't decide if he considers himself gay, but I'm thinking not.  He stips down and sucks the Indian guy a little.  Then the Indian guy wants me back, leaving the Polish guy to wank.  Which he does.  To a very quick completion.  I just stayed on the Indian guy.  The Polish guy cheers us to a solid finish.  A solid finish solidly contained in Trojan's best.  Damn, what a waste.

Meanwhile, I haven't gotten off.

When I get home, Craigslist has paid off again.  Hotel again, stone's throw from here.  I establish contact, and at about 11:00, I head over.  Big burly Irish guy.  6'3" and 240.  But in solid working man shape (i.e., not a manicured gym bod).  He calls himself Str8 in his ad, and wants a BJ.  Excellent.  In his darkened hotel room, I get down to work.  Tiny cock, but it fits my throat to a T.  I enjoy that just fine compared with a huge cock.

We work around to him sucking me as well.  Oooops, not so Str8 after all?  Gotcha!  He's a too-vigorous, swallow only the first inch cocksucker.  And he wants to 69 after a while.  He winds up on top, me working him hard, and he's beating my meat mercilessly, but artlessly.  He cums, big sharp tasting load.  He stays in my mouth while I finish.  I'm beating off with a cock, and a boatload of cum in my mouth.  This is great.

I cum hard, and spray a healthy load all over my chest.  Dude's impressed by my shooting.  He must not be a distance shooter himself.

There's no small talk, and I'm beat.  School night.

Somewhat later on . . .

Ah, the cam thing.  Had one guy from Craigslist who chickened out.  The bum.  I even had started drumming up an audience, had 25 odd guys wanting to watch when he bagged out.  The bum, I say again.

Now I've got another guy who, catch this, claims he's got a female fuck-buddy who might want to participate.  A female fuck-buddy who isn't his wife.  Wow.

Current status: he's interested, but reluctant for one reason.  He parks in my building.  He's thinking it might be potentially awkward.  Maybe.  And equally for me.  I dunno.  The ball's presently in my court. 

Think I'm gonna hit it back.

1/6/2009

Wow!  I've discovered cam4.com.  Multitudes of guys (mostly) and girls (some) around the globe (many from South America, Italy, Germany and the UK, relatively few from US)  showing off sexually for one another.  Most are extremely dull.  Some are a kick.

This has possibilities, but I quickly realize that there's got to be more to a webcam show than sitting back and whacking off.  I know what I need to do.  Give someone a blo on cam for the world to watch.

Being a man of action, I promptly post on Craigslist: anybody want to get a blo on a webcam?

Guess my libido's sneaking back.  

Will keep you posted on results.

1/4/2009

Damn, I'm coming down with a cold.  Libido shut-down.

1/2/2009 - later that day . . .

OK, so the taste of the Italo-'merican dad in the park was nice.  But I didn't get off (probably disappointing my goomba).  So, naturally, I hit the gym in the afternoon. 

Rather than working out, I hit the sauna first.  And scored almost immediately.  In the sauna, there was a guy I hadn't seen in a couple years.  50-something, in fine shape, but nothing special.  But a nice big dick.  Married.  (Are you guys figuring out I like that kinda thing?)  Was talking to another guy about playing the church organ when I went into the sauna.  He knew I what I wanted right away.  After a couple awkward turns through the steam room and the showers, he and I were alone in the steam, and without hesitation he showed hard (OK, not hard-wood rigid, but still solid).  Then, of course, someone walked in.

And after a couple more turns around, he and I wound up in the handicap shower stall.  He only wanted to JO, but I wasn't taking no for an answer.  He he wasn't giving out any no's either.  So with him standing on the bench in the shower, I sucked him off vigorously.  Fat dick, big plum head, and a real 6.5 incher (8 in internet inches.).  The only notable thing about the blo was that when I, holding his cock and balls from underneath, was able to slide his whole package back and forth and in and out of my mouth.  Big advantage to a not completely rigid member.  He came quickly, and shot a watery, weak tasting load.  Good enough for now.

I went and worked out and returned.

Funny thing.  I walk into the steam, and there's the same guy who was there (keeping me from sucking off that other guy in the steamroom) sitting on the lower bench by the door.  Still there.  Dude hadn't shown a bit of interest before.  Slightly scruffy, 30ish, not a gym body, but not sloppy either.  I'll do him, no problem.

I walk in, sit down, doffing my towel and letting my cock rise a little.  Just a little.  And it works very quickly.  He rises, and moves away from the door and starts reaching into his towel, clearly playing with himself.  So without much delay I walk over and stand in front of him.  He lubes his fingers from a stash of lotion he's got behind him, and starts jacking me vigorously.  I keep pushing toward his mouth - I'm standing, he's sitting at chair height - but he doesn't take the bait.  I'm alternately jacking his thoroughly medium sized dick, and stroking his amazingly leathery scrotum.  He's got a good touch, and with the lube and the steam keeping things slick, I don't last long.  He seems shocked and pleased by the quantity and distance I achieve when I shoot all over his chest and neck.  Dude, I haven't cum in a week.  What do you expect?

I leave promptly, feeling well drained. 

1/2/2009

Out running errands in the near suburbs.  Other Half (OH) is home, doing other shit and has an appointment.  Window of opportunity: approximately 1 hour.  MO: car cruising.  First sex of the year?

Yup.  Pulled into the loop park on a clear, cold day.  Few cars around.  Speak briefly with an older Eastern European guy, say 55-60, who wanted to flash me his nice uncut cock.  But then he said he wanted to get fucked.  Good luck, pal.

Then, ka-bam!  White late model Ford Explorer pulls in.  He dutifully parks next to the guy in the big tough-looking black SUV who really is only reading his paper.  I pull in down the row a ways.  He quickly figures out the other guy (who is apparently unphased by every car coming into the place checking him out) isn't interested, and looks my way.  Within 5 seconds, a nod, which I promptly return.

Then he starts backing out, and I think, ooops!  But no, he goes straight to a place on my other side, well down the row. and pulls in.  I whip around to his other side, pull in, and get straight out of the car.  I reach tentatively for the door handle and he waves me in.

He's a tall guy, medium build.  Clearly of Italian extraction, actually smells faintly of garlic, which I couldn't hold against him.  Cute in a really ordinary way.  Maybe 40 at the outside.  Somebody's dad, right down to the wedding ring.  He's vigorously stroking his hard cock through his jeans.  I reach, he hands it over to me, pressing into my hand.  I reach down his shaft as far as I can go, and it feels very long to me.  

A perfunctory exchange reveals he's (1) not into getting a blow job but (2) he'd like a handjob.  "Whip it out" I replied.  He quickly opened his trouser fly and whipped out a beauty.  Not as big as I'd thought, but nice.  No evidence of shaving, but a little trimming of his abundant dark pubic hair.  I really wanted to sink my face into it.  Looked sweet.  Noted a good sized dark mole on the back side of his cock - kind of a cool touch, eh?

When I turned to service him with my right hand, he quickly reached for my hard cock and vigorously, but with little finesse, began wanking me.  He lasted all of 20 seconds - shortly after I started in on him with firm steady strokes, he put his head back and with heavy breath said "that feels so good" and promptly began to cum.  He didn't grab his cock away from me, and let me ride him through.  Not a big shooter, all his jizz stayed within a couple inches of his cock.

I don't think I've ever given a blow job that went that fast.  Hot.  Stick with this blog and you'll learn that while I don't cum quickly, I find have a thing for guys who do.  

Without skipping a beat, he reached for napkins in the door bin.  I was so hungry, and he was so hot that I did something unusual for me: I turned quickly and stealthily licked some of his cum off my thumb.  Bland tasting, little aftertaste, very thick and white.  Sweet.

Hopped out of the car and the whole thing was over, I'm not kidding, in one minute.

I hung around  few minutes more, but nothing presented itself, and then a security car came though.  I'm outta there, back to doing errands having had a little bit of cock.

Happy New Year!  Cheers!