Thursday, April 30, 2009

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.

Friday, April 17, 2009

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.



Tuesday, April 14, 2009

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.