Sunday, September 20, 2009


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?

Friday, September 11, 2009


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.

Monday, September 7, 2009


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.