Friday, July 19, 2013

Sound check? Sanity check?

It wasn't that long ago when I last hit up a guy just for oral.  After my last debaucle with the blow and go, I checked my file and there were two in the last month.  One guy that I found from Grindr that was a little too close to home (yes, I'm aware that it's a location-based app, but I still didn't expect him to travel in the same circles as I do) and the other guy was a hotel visitor from craigslist (and hotel visitors are about all CL is good for these days as far as hookups go).

The Grindr guy I'll write about next, but this CL guy was interesting.  He's fresh out of college and apparently I'm starting to hit that Daddy age (well, maybe uncle but for a 20 year-old late thirties = daddy apparently).  Feels a bit odd, but I guess I have lived more than 50% longer than them so it's not entirely inappropriate.  He's a sound engineer from Austin.  At first, I thought that meant roadie since he had some ridiculously long, curly hair borrowed from Sideshow Bob that looks completely in tune with a guy putting up a rig for a Metallica show and also since he's also from the live music capital. He really was a studio technician, though.

I generally try to get a sense for a guy within the first few seconds of meeting him, trying to figure out what a guy really wants as opposed to what they said they want over electronic forms of communication.  This kid: he was sincere.  Had some experience under his belt but still lacked some confidence.  The chit chat was as meandering as was his lead on where to go. I ended up directing him to the bed in his suite and then my cock down his throat shortly thereafter.  But with me on the bed, stripped down and propped up on the pillows and him lying flat on his belly inbetween my legs, he didn't need any further guidance.  He expertly explored every zone on my cock and my balls, spending some time on the areas that made my body convulse or made me mumble encouragement.  He lapped at the inside of my thigh, where my balls meet my upper leg and sent shivers down my spine.  I moaned when he tongued my balls, but gasped when he sucked on them and reached down to direct his attention back to my cock.  Broad stroke along the length of the cock and then a few flicks on the ridge of the head, which doesn't do much for me and he realized it so he proceeded to take me to the root in one gulp.  That sent me through the roof.  The buildup was good but he then started to go up and down at a crazy pace.  To slow that down, I usually take hold of the guy's head in a firm grip, holding both sides firmly until I feel him stop and let go of his will to lead, and then guide him to a pace that works the best for me.  But with him, I chuckled a bit cause I wasn't sure where to hold him with the mass of hair.  I finally decided that it was gonna have to be the ears and cheeks.  Probably a little more painful with a guy tugging on your ear, but hell if I was gonna let him continue his insane bob on my cock.  Just after a few, priming the pump and making him savor my meat and enjoy it at a more leisurely pace, I let him go and he continued like a self-propelled metronome.  Perfect pace, but something was off.  He was edging me but never got be over the hump, even when I totally let go and willed it to happen.  I pulled him off and gave myself a few strokes while his tongue circled the head and lapped at the precum.  I brought myself right past the point of no return and let go.  He didn't need any instruction.  He swooped down and buried it down his throat, straight to the back, as my cock pulsed its load directly in.  He pulled back a bit, though I wasn't sure if it was he was about to gag or to get a taste on his tongue.  Either way, he didn't miss a drop.

The Grindr guy?  Well, he was one of those guys that doesn't show a pic on his profile but fires off rapid messages trying to reel a guy in.  He eventually sent me a face pic, with sunglasses that framed most of the cropped photo.  Scruffy face, olive complexion.  I had him pegged as a closetcase that was really straightforward about wanting to suck cock.  When I got to his place, he didn't buzz me in but instead made me wait at the gate.  Perhaps it was another screening process.  When he opened the gate, he was fuckin' hot.  Only about 5'9" or so but had broad shoulders and a well-defined chest.  Arms that effortlessly bulged as he swung his arms walking.  Softly muscular thighs and curvy calves that couldn't possibly be supported by his tiny ankles and feet.  In short, a muscle cub that wasn't obsessive about being fit.  An athletic guy that isn't afraid to eat.

With his close cropped hair, it wasn't hard to grab the sides of his head when I needed to slow him down.  In fact, he's one of those guys that loves being directed.  His head went slack almost immediately after I grabbed his head.  No resistance.  Something really hot about that, so my fingers dug in a bit to firmly grip his head while I slow fucked his face.  I pretended not to hear him gagging and kept on going...  and to his credit, he never resisted.  Never felt his head pull back.  Completely gave in to the face fuck.

I felt like I wasn't going deep enough though.  He was on his knees while I was standing up.  So I grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him onto the couch.  Again, absolutely no resistance.  Angled my body and grabbed the base of my cock.  Instead of going straight, I pointed the upward curve of my cock to the side to meet his head as his cheek rested on the side of my thigh.  At that angle, I was able to pop my cock through his throat and fuck really deep.  He struggled a bit, but I held him firm as I continued my assault on his throat.  As I was about to shoot, I pulled back a little and let it squirt.  Didn't ask if it was alright.  Just let it fly.  And as soon as the first spurt shot into his mouth, he shot at exactly the same time and erupted all over his fist.

A few days later, the new season of a sports league I'm in was starting.  I walked through the parking lot and did a double-take.  The Grindr guy was there by his car taking a smoke break.  He gave me an embarrassed smile and did a head nod.  I changed directions and headed over to him to chat.  We barely said two sentences to each other before breaking due to the awkward silence.  But I messaged him the next day saying that despite my better judgement, I wanted him again.  And apparently the feeling was mutual (or he's just super sexual) because after I came over, he shot within a few minutes of me grabbing him.  I'm going to take it as an ego boost.  Turned out he wasn't a closetcase at all.  I think he's just trying to keep his activities under wraps (unsuccessfully) to avoid awkward situations like the one we had in the parking lot.

But I know me.  I love getting head, but I don't know if I can do it again without trying to get into his ass.

Monday, July 15, 2013

Remembering and sleep apnea "Gere"

I don't know why I don't just write about my encounters right afterward.  Instead, I jot down something on an electronic form of scrap paper and file it away until something compels me to write.  The problem is that the catalyst for putting pen to paper (I know, archaic...  but fingers to keyboard sounds lame and that's soon to be out of mode with Siri, touchscreens and other virtual keyboards) is usually another blogger's entry that triggers a memory and by the time I write about the encounter, it's all tangled up because I can't remember if I've already written about it or sometime what I want to write about needs some context from another encounter that I haven't written about.  I am all for a vignette, a glimpse into a specific moment that captures a specific idea.  But that's not how it works in real life.  It's all interconnected and sometimes you can't just chop it up and serve just one serving.  So in the end, sometimes I feel like a mental patient suddenly waking up in the middle of the desert without my pants missing and wondering, "What the fuck was I doing?  And how did I get here?"

But I have bits of e-scrap paper to lead me back home.  This one, in part, read "Richard Gere - Sleep Apenea".

I hit him up on Grindr while he was in town for a convention.  He just had a chest pic showing but he had really lickable nipples.  Not too tiny, not too large.  Just right.  Placed on a nice chest that was masculine and fit without being completely sculpted in a gym.  When he sent a face pic, it was shot from far enough away and blurry enough where I couldn't make much out except he's of the type that puts sets his sunglasses on top of his head while indoors.  I took the bait anyway, and headed over to his hotel.  He propped his door open.  Blackout shades almost complete drawn, but open just enough for me to see him lying face down, hugging a pillow to his face in a way that beautifully accentuated his fine ass with a natural arch to his back.  My cock was a tangled mess in my pants and was fighting to straighten itself out, twitching and stiffening up as my eyes traced the muscles in his shoulders down the deep valley down his back and then up to the two pronounced mounds that begged to be played with.  I quickly shed my clothes and tossed them by the nightstand, that was supporting more than the usual LED clock radio.  There was a contraption there with a hose that caught my eye just as he rolled over, drawing attention back to his form.  That's when the two things hit me right at the same time: that odd thing on the nightstand was for sleep apnea and fuck me if he isn't a doppleganger for a young Richard Gere.  Same cheekbones, wavy hair that had just a few streaks of age.  That combination of boyish and distinguished.  I slipped into bed with him and he pulled a sheet over us.  I just stared into his eyes for a bit before we got drawn into each other and started to languidly kiss and make out.

It was just easy.  Passionate, but easy.  Not the frenetic energy of rapid movements but each movement was made with purpose.  We didn't grind against each other but instead pressed against each other with a need that was hard to mistake.  I don't even remember how his cock tasted nor his technique at giving head, but I do remember that my knob was slicked up with his spit when I rolled him on top of me at one point.  My cock was rock hard and pulsed in the air before landing perfectly between the mounds of his ass.  I wrapped one arm around him to pull his chest down onto me as he straddled me and I angled up my hips slightly and pressed at his hole.

He gasped and pulled back.  Looking into my eyes, he started to breathlessly apologize.

"I can't, I can't..."

"Can't what?"  Did he suddenly have guilt?  Is he about the cum and didn't want to?

"... bareback."

Even as he said it, I felt his hole open up a bit before he came to his senses and clamped down to shut me out.  I'm fine with playing wrapped, but when I asked, he didn't have the supplies to even go there.  So I just grabbed him by his hips and had him glide back and forth across my cock, my precum making it slick and easy.  If he wanted, he could just push down a bit and my cock would easily break through.  He'd moan every time the tip passed, but he tightened up to keep me out.  Letting go of his hips, I grabbed his meat and held my hand still so he'd fuck into my fist as slid to and fro.  Just a few strokes and he started to spray my chest.  The first shot had some distance, nearly hitting my chin.  The rest, what it lacked in length made up in volume.  Before he finished, streaks were already running down the sides of my stomach.

Rolling off, he collapsed next to me.  I usually just stop at that point, hating the pressure that comes with being the last to finish, but I was so close to the edge that I pulled him to me by the neck for a deep kiss while I took the half dozen strokes to finish myself off manually using his cum for added lube.  He pulled away right after, but I held him in place.  Not sure if it's because he was done and wasn't into it or if he's one of those guys that has to clean up any and all bodily fluids immediately after they are issued from the body.  I didn't care.  I just wanted to savor the moment and marinate in it all.  I suspect he had an aversion to cum cause we laid in bed for a few minutes to just chat and come down.

Now, I wish I could say that the whole encounter came flooding back with the four words (sleep, gere, apnea, richard) but I actually jotted down a few other details.  Okay, more than a few.  In fact, I still don't know why I don't just write about it afterwards 'cause it's a sizable paragraph.  What can I say?  I'm a slut and sometimes I need a little help remembering.  But those words, in any combination, definitely conjures up two vivid moments.  That sudden clash where in a split second I place the function of the weird darth vador mask on the nightstand juxtaposed with the pleasant surprise at how goddamn good-looking the kid was.  The other moment?  Me just lying there with the smell of sex wafting up from my belly with our commingled juices and his handsome face just lying there next to me, on his side, while we shot the breeze for a few minutes.  And I love that I have a way to get back to that location of my brain and poke at it to bring it back to life.

Sunday, July 14, 2013

"It's not normal to take that long"

Okay, so I've been called a long-lasting top and then I read about some of you guys giving fifty-hour fucks and then I have had bottoms practically slap me to keep me from cumming too quick.  And the elasticity of time always seems to be inversely related to how much time you have.  Have only an hour?  Then you seem to barely get your clothes off at minute 57.  Have the whole day?  Then you're creepin' in front of the house of the trick you just shot in trying to schedule up a double-header because the clock in your car is telling you that you were only there for like three minutes.

But this guy...  ugh.

So I answered an ad for a blow and go and arrived at his hotel on bike half an hour after first contacting him.  I think that was a record.  I mean, on bike!  It was a quick exchange of pics and then the address of his hotel and I was off.  But I should have known it was going to be off when, at the last minute, he asked for a face pic.  I fired off a quick message on my phone with a horrible mug shot and told him to call it off now if we weren't a match because I was gonna be on my bike pedaling over.  Out of cockiness or just out of desperation to lose a load, I don't know but I just took off without waiting for a response.  Luckily he said it was cool when I checked my email when I got to his hotel and I was knocking on his door shortly after.

Good lookin' guy.  Didn't quite look like his pics.  A little older and a lot more tan.  Still pretty handsome and the leather cock ring was a nice touch.

But after flopping on the bed, he asked me when the last time I shot (I honestly answered that I jerked off in the morning) and then a few minutes later, just stopped completely saying, "It's not normal to take that long."  No worries.  Must've been the time warp thing 'cause it didn't feel like that long.  But I get it.

Then as I was unlocking my bike, I pulled out my phone and checked the time.  From the time I first locked up my bike to when I unlocked it was just shy of fifteen minutes.  That includes time trying to navigate the hotel and find the elevators, the chitchat, dressing and undressing and cleaning up and all that. Really?!  I mean, I get it if the chemistry isn't there, but you're really going to call me abnormal because I take more than five minutes to get off?!  And it wasn't just something he made up.  He said it three or four times as I was getting dressed!

Meh.  Every now and then you get a jelly bean flavor you don't like, but it still doesn't stop you from eating the whole bag.  That was on Wednesday.  Already got some stuff lined up for today and tomorrow.

Sunday, July 7, 2013

The kind actor

I don't host often.  Largely because I have a dog that keeps getting in the way.  The dog mistakes the guy on the bed on all fours, wiggling his ass in the air in the play position as a fellow playmate and likes to get in the way... and is thoroughly frustrated that he's excluded and ignored.  The pooch is pretty vocal about it.  And sometimes limbs are slightly nipped.

I made an exception for this one guy, though, as he was conveniently staying at a hotel that was only about a mile away.  A stage actor that was in town only for the duration of a traveling production, he had a really chippy profile on Growlr and was really responsive to messages.  When he arrived at my door, his face lit up as I opened the door.  Exactly like his photo.  One of those kind faces that always seems to have a positive outlook.  He was a bit heavier than I thought he'd be but that smile drew me in.  When I pulled him to me, I found that his shirt was drenched from the trip over.  His head, also wet.  Just down his neck, hair from his back peeked over the collar of his shirt.  And in the cool air-conditioned room, his body seemed to go on over-drive to try to cool himself off.  On paper, it seems like it would all be a turn off, but his energy drew me in.  A bright quality.  Perceptive, almost to a fault, but uniquely filtered to find the best of thing.  Everything in the pan his eyes sifted through was gold and it made me want to elevate myself to the level of whatever he saw.  He apologized profusely, but I stopped that with a kiss.  I didn't mind.

In easy movements, we settled into the couch and then with him on his knees with my cock buried down his throat.  God, he was good.  And incredibly perceptive.  He focused on the things that triggered a response, but knew when to back off when I was getting too much of a good thing.  He was fully dressed while I was fully naked and he politely pushed the dog away when he got in the way.  Gently, but firm.  And the dog stayed back and settled down.

He got me to a zone where my vision was a bit hazy, not really settling on anything until my eyes landed back on the hair peeking over the collar.  I got the shirt off him and found that he was covered in body hair.  A uniform coat all over.  As I rubbed his back, the soft hairs started to mat against his body, clinging to the sweat.  We hadn't talked about it, but I had to get inside him.  Making an abrupt exit for some lube, I came back and bent him over the back of the couch.  Lubing and then lining myself up, I slowly entered him til I hit bottom.  Then grabbed his slick body and started to pound it home.  I then let my hips take over and stroked his body, feeling the soft fuzz under my fingers before they clung to his body, damp from picking up sweat.  I didn't last long.  I shot inside him within a few minutes, going from a steady fuck to rushing past the point of no return and wailing into his hole until I deposited my load.  My hand on his back mindlessly continued to stroke his body as my body continued to spasm.  Maybe it was my load or maybe it was the heavy petting, but he quickly came right after, barely giving himself a few tugs and shot a load onto the couch.

Surprisingly enough, the pooch was really mellow through it all.  Seems like I'm not the only one captivated by his energy, recognizing a kind spirit and not really bothered by any of it.  And when I hugged him before he left, my four-legged friend gave him nudge against his leg to wish him well.