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

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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?

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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.