Saturday, June 20, 2009


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?

Monday, June 15, 2009

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.


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!


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.