Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Snapshot: Letterbox

The one thing that sucks about digital panoramic pictures is it always ends up being letterboxed.  So you have all this rich detail but it still fails in trying to capture that human experience, no matter how many zeros and ones you toss at it.  And then sometimes, as much as I can sense everything in the peripheral with my own eyes, I am confounded by how limited my vision is.  Every now and then I am acutely aware that what I see is eclipsed with physical limitations and those limitations are aptly expressed by the alienating black bars that cut me off from others.

I'm in the house of a bi guy in one of those coastal orange county towns that makes me kinda surprised that the art on the wall is progressive and edgy.  At the same time, there's definitely two voices in the room that doesn't make me doubt his story of wanting some guy on guy action while his girl is out of town.  Like a tobacco pipe on a doily.  Or a five blade razor next to a tampon.  That sort of thing, fighting each other, objects bickering throughout the room.  If it's a charade to emulate the bi-guy mystique, then it's a real elaborate one.

I had to scoot things along after chatting aimlessly about the latest wave of "bro" movies involving chasing tail and binge drinking, from Animal House to the Hangover.  Kinda random, but I was trying to ease into it and the conversation made sense from what was showing on TV.  When it was going nowhere, though, I leaned in for kiss and grabbed his hand to lead it to my crotch.  The kiss, he deflected by turning away.  The hand stayed put and he kneaded the bulge that was growing under my shorts all on his own.  Funny thing was that he stopped deflecting my kisses after he got to suck me for a bit.  After just a little taste, all reservations were gone and he was all in.

But what really struck me, though, was after we got our clothes off in stages and after he gave me a rather toothy and clumsy blowjob, after I started to suck him and he went from rock hard to soft to hard again.  He was on the couch and I was on my knees in front of him and we made out for a bit.  Hard.  Soft.  Hard again.  I wasn't sure what was turning him on and what wasn't, but I placed his legs over my shoulder and worked a couple of inches into him while making out.  I had to break from the kiss to get better leverage; he was fucking tight as hell.  Making out loosened him up for a sec before he'd tighten up again.  And it's then.  Right then.  I see it.  I'm there on my knees, pulled back to get better footing, and I see it.  As I stared into his eyes, there's a sudden flicker and then he looks away for a moment.  I continue to tease his hole with the head of my cock.  Just a couple inches.  Enough, though.  Enough so that he turns back and looks into my eyes, locked unto mine, before his eyes roll back and he shoots his load.  Chest heaving.  Fully body spasms.  I'm not inside him too deep to begin with but his orgasm pushes me out and off.  And I'm here thinking, what was it that he saw, that he felt?  What is it that makes him disconnect?  What brings him back?  And what makes him shoot so hard he's still trembling.

I was so close.  So I just stood up and shoved my cock in his mouth and the fucker was still keen on sucking me, going ass to mouth.

And I came.

As we were both coming down from that high of spilling our ejaculate, I couldn't shake that momentary flicker in his eyes.  I'm never going to fully understand what he saw, what made him pull back, what made him crest over.  As much as my hands fumbled all over him earlier, physically peeling the layers back to unsuccessfully sense those unmet desires, my mouth awkwardly tumbled words out of my mouth as we lie there panting.  I probed him with questions and learned that he was raised by two dads, been with his girl for a few years, in this house for a bit longer.  And instead of words that caressed meaning and insight, they just echoed cold facts and I started to drift.  I started to just see myself sitting there, deluded with thoughts that I can see a person fully from their eyes when I'm not sure I can even see properly out of mine.

My field of vision is so severely letterboxed by ego.

Monday, December 29, 2014

Snapshot: Aidan McGillicuddy

"You probably don't even remember my name," he says.  I've just fucked the cum out of this stocky Irish ginger.  Or perhaps he's more of a strawberry blond, if there's a difference.  He's called himself versatile, but I'm pretty sure he said that so that I wouldn't be scared off.  I can definitely feel that he's more of a top.  Especially now, as things are awkwardly flying out his mouth, confessions that are tumbling out in a nervous way, exposing himself emotionally to an uncomfortably raw state, as naked as he is physically lying there catching his breath in the post-cum afterglow.  He had started with how he hasn't been fucked in a couple of years, how intense it was, how tight he was, how great it felt to give someone the reigns, then some words about his sexless marriage, and then some self-derisive words at how much weight he's gained recently...  And then the sudden realization that he's given so much of himself, more than he intended to and the embarrassment that comes along with it.  That's when he plainly stated the above.

That insecurity didn't fit well with him.  Stark contrast with the earlier confidence I felt when he aggressively pawed at me.

I tried to turn it around by making that statement sound absurd.  Whether I remembered his name or not, it didn't discount the fact that we had fucking insane chemistry where we both shot off pretty quickly.  Or maybe I'm just an ass and wanted to make him feel worse.

"Yeah, it was very Irish...  McGillicuddy?"  I remembered his full name, but I tossed McGillicuddy out because it was the first stereotypically Irish sounding name I could come up with.  I then rolled through the list of given names to settle on one that was equally ethnic.  "And you only mentioned your first name once, but I remember it well.  Aidan.  Aidan McGillicuddy."

He laughed... or rather we both burst out laughing and then he playfully tossed me a pillow at me.  Quick pause.  Then grabbed my legs and tossed them over his shoulder in a bold move, his thick-as-fuck dick chubbin' up again.

Ah.  There we go.  Mission accomplished.  Insecurities gone and he's back to his bold, aggressive ways.

Saturday, December 27, 2014

Snapshot: The resort fuck

It's my favorite position when fucking a horsehung bottom.  His right leg is flung over my left shoulder with the bend of that knee resting perfectly at the crest so that each time I fuck my meat into him, my shoulder makes his leg kick helplessly and involuntarily into the empty air.  His left leg is slightly raised but bent off to the side so that my right hand has clear access to grip his thick nine-plus inches in a firm handshake.  Our lips our locked.  My torso low.  I'm slowly working my left hand under him to pull him closer while simultaneously my weight shifts so that he's taking more and more of me, more than what the length of my cock can give.  I'm folding him unto himself and embracing his entirety while my dick fights to get deeper, both heaving myself against him and pulling him into me.

In short, I'm trying to consume him all around.

I'm in Mexico, but instead of taking in the local sights, I left my partner snoring in bed while I snuck upstairs to fuck this guy I met off Grindr.  Just a few inches taller than me.  Trim.  Incredibly limber.  Several shades darker than me.  He's obviously been taking advantage of the sun down here more than I have.

His kisses are hungry.  A perfect give and take.  And his cock is starting to drool.  The precum flows so much that I'm starting to give him full strokes to the rhythm of my fuck without realizing it.  Before long, his kissing becomes erratic.  Even the best multi-taskers can't process the amount of stimuli I'm throwing his way. Different directions pointing to the same target.  He breaks the kiss when his body tells him to pay attention to the line from my balls through my cock, gliding perfectly skin to skin so that every ridge of my cock is memorized by the lips of his ass and then interconnects deep within his buckled walls within his hole, perfect complements in grooves like a natural lock and key...  That line continues through, hits his prostate and reverberates straight on through his cock with my fingers sliding over the ridges of his cock, his grooves.  We are touching, caressing, inside and out.  And his body tells him that's all it can focus on while his kisses falter, his breath equally disconnected and he shoots.  And shoots.  Loose ropes, more translucent than white, but heavy in volume, shooting and oozing out of his cock while I continue to tear at his hole.

I force my face to his, tongue back down his throat, stopping him from any protest while I continue my assault and with one final shove I collapse onto him and use my one left arm to pull him deeper down to my cock as it amasses all the energy from my core and recoils to empty my nuts deep inside him.

What's a vacation without indulging in some of your favorite recreational activities?

Thursday, December 25, 2014

Tuesday, December 23, 2014


"Have you bred any guys lately?"

He asks that a lot.  Almost every time we chat online.  And I'm never quite sure how to answer that.  Does he really want to know?  He's clearly talking about barebacking, not just whether or not I've had any tail lately.  Usually, I'm more than happy to swap war stories.  The sexual side of me doesn't get aired out that frequently.  Hell, a large part of the cheating is the secrecy of it all.  Every now and then, I get a guy that curls up into my arms after taking a load deep inside his guts and we just let go and start talking.  You know, the whole "I-haven't-fucked-like-that-in-forever" talk that then leads to comparing notes and stories about the last encounter and then the one before that and the one before that.  Just a fellow pig, wallowing in our filth physically over the cold, wet, and smelly sheets as well as mentally as we let loose with stories of depravity.

But this guy... I'm not so sure.  I can't tell if he's trying to gauge how much of a whore I am before he commits to meeting again or if he's just airing out his thoughts and stories.  The funny thing is that he knows about this blog.  I'm not sure how he stumbled onto it but he had used the Google+ friend connect to give a discreet, "Hello."  So I'm not sure why I'm being so guarded.  I feel like a bit of a fraud playing so chastely coquettish.

But eventually we get to meet.  And fuck if I'm blown away each time (we've played three or four times previously).  Southern guy in his late forties, salt and pepper hair, with a tinge of restrained raspiness in his voice.  Beautiful light eyes.  And then that body...  Fuck, he's fit.  Not muscular in a way that strains against his frame in a top-heavy way, but completely toned and trim.  A guy that would lightly jog over to you at the finish line of a marathon and casually ask if you wanna go on a hike later, not a bit winded from running 26+ miles.  And that ass?  Don't get me started.  Beautiful round bubble butt that is completely firm to the touch.  I get hard just thinking about the exercises he does to get that ass in shape...  that amount of muscle control back there...

And when we meet, it sparks up that friendly kinship that is completely at odds with what I know he likes.  He has a penchant for young, twinkish dom tops that are just looking to use his hole to get off in.  Wrapped only, but otherwise no holds barred relentless pounding.  He showed me a video once: a young, hung top relentlessly pistoning into his hole while he squealed in delight.  And I mean squealed.  He's one of those guys that lose vocal control when he's getting fucked.  Just complete abandon with his gasps, moans, and cries for less/more/who knows?  It's just unintelligible screaming with no volume control.  Love a guy that just lets it go like that.  No theatrics, though.  It's real.  He's quite a restrained guy with that quiet raspiness.  But in bed, you get his legs in the air and his needs take over and he's just howling in both a begging and painful way.  And the change in pitch or volume or type of sound that comes out is always in tune with what you're doing.  One time, I even playfully put my hand around his throat to soften his cries and instead, that symbolic move of power made him whimper even more and harder and louder.

What he gets from me is different though.  We make out and I'm forceful, but complementary.  Sure, I drill him hard, but I also just push into him to the root and hold so that he can feel how deep I am, how connected we are.  I fuck the snot out of him, but I also slow down and let him feel the full length of my cock invading his hole.  I hold his arms down, pull his hair, grab him by the neck...  but I also repeatedly go down on him to suck him hard no matter how hard he tries to push me away.  He's usually soft while getting fucked so any attention to his dick makes him embarrassed, but I push until I feel him relent and let go of those self-conscious thoughts to just enjoy what I'm making his body feel.  And when we 69, I'm on top fully face fucking him and knowingly blocking out air passages until his eyes tear up, but I'm also giving him one helluva blowjob and I feel his dick respond to the abuse while I'm tearing up his throat.

And to an outsider, what's really different is that with me, we sometimes fuck raw.  For the second time, I had his legs over my shoulder, my cock nudging his hole and when I started to reach for the condoms, he held me tighter and used those amazing ass muscles to line up and start to open up to me.  That feel of a hole opening up to me is just irresistible and I sink in deep on one slow push.  Then came a lengthy bit of play while I traced every muscle in his body while I maneuvered him into the position that felt best for the both of us.  I love how compact he is and how flexible.  I can drag him across the bed and twist him about with little effort.  He's doing acrobatics.  I'm fucking hole.  And for the first time, I fucked the cum out of him,  I had to pause and suck him to the brink, but for the first time, he came while I was inside him and fuck if those muscles didn't squeeze tight.

And for another first since we've ever met, he just lied there panting, totally winded.  He tried to say something but it all came out in gasps.  I laughed and flopped down next to him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him over until he curled up into me, my one arm idly tracing random patterns up and down his back.  We chatted as he recovered.  Apparently he just came out of a brief relationship where, surprisingly, he was the top.  Then we started chatting about our regulars, his roommie.  My partner.  He admitted to not having read my blog in awhile.

Then, when we were about to wrap things up, he remarked with mixed amazement and disappointment that I didn't cum.

"Ha!  That's because I held off.  I could have easily cum in your ass," I said pretty casually.

His eyes clouded over a bit and he retreated a bit back inside himself.  That warm kinship between us throughout the night turned chilly and I was left thinking yet again, how much does he really want to know?

Sunday, December 21, 2014

Snapshot: The couple

"Did you cum in me?" he asked, maybe a little too loudly, a little too jovially (with a hint of accusation) for 3am in the morning, walking back into the bedroom.

I was making out with his husband in bed, under the covers.  The question sliced through the moment quite violently and it took me a moment to get my bearings to respond.  A brief chuckle from me.  For a brief moment I was wondering if I crossed a line, but quickly dismissed that when I recalled how they both made it a point to tell me that they were both on PrEP before we had headed out to dinner that night.  The story was shrouded in some elaborate story about insurance and liver tests, but the message was clear.  The chuckle actually came from a sudden flashback to a guy that noted with some disappointment that I'm not always that vocal when I cum.

"Yup," I responded.

"Fuck, that's hot.  I just shit out your load."

His husband groaned.

"That's real nice.  Did you really have to put it that way?"

"Oops!  Sorry," he said with a grin.  Or at least it felt like he was grinning, but it was way too dark to tell.  He casually deflected the admonishment in a way that told me that it's just routine usual banter between the two of them, that the words of reproach were trivial and harmless.  With that, he jumped back into bed, turned his back toward me and wiggled that amazing ass back into my crotch.

I was half hard.  I could blame that on the fact that I just came, or that we all had a lot of alcohol that night, but I knew it was something more.

I know that I'm describing the guy that's practically begging me for another load (or at least to continue fucking him to finish him off) as some flightly, adolescent type, but he's far from that.  We're all in our thirties, pretty well-established in our careers in technology.  He just comes at sex from a rebelliously direct approach, borderline both frivolous and mundane but vehemently liberal in an intellectual way.  Tall, scruffy faced but totally smooth from the neck down, as smooth as he is uninhibited about sex and what he likes.  A fellow pig that's unabashed about his activities,  No standard coy and chaste responses from this one.  And I love it.  I fed off it, manhandling him and twisting him about in several positions until I had him on his stomach and kneed his legs apart so that his back arched slightly and his ass raised in that perfect position to piston my load into him.

But his husband.  He's a completely different animal.  Animal isn't even the right word.  When we make out, it's sweet and tender.  His hands danced across my back softly but I nevertheless felt the lead weight of meaning behind them.  It's that beautiful moment between firm and intimate.  Someone you wouldn't mind handing the reigns to because you knew he'd take care of you.  Shorter, Asian, with a buzz cut that worked for him in a military disciplined sort of way.  I remember watching them C&W dancing and thought it was interesting to see the shorter one lead the taller guy but it all made sense now.

I had tried fucking the husband, but he was tight as hell and just shoving my long poker into him would be out of place with the type of sex he's into.

So there I was, half-hard having just shot my load, two incredibly hot guys in bed with me and I'm equally attracted to both of them for completely different reasons, both of them eagerly wanting to get off but having completely different styles of hookup sex, and to top it all off, all I could think of was something they told me earlier in the night: they never play together.  I took that responsibility of being the conduit between the two of them seriously but I couldn't reconcile how they wanted to have completely different types of encounters.  Fuck, I'm all for each of them individually but it's hard to play two different roles at the same time.  The taller one responded better to me having balls to the wall outrageously animalistic sex.  He practically shoved me off when I made out with him too long as it would have brought him off too quick.  His husband though, loved the long makeout session with us feeling each other up and as my cock teased his hole.  The attraction worked out between the three of us in a surprising way.  Very surprising.  We were all definitely into each other.  And I get it.  It's hard when you're in an interracial relationship with one guy taller one guy shorter, one guy scruffy and the other clean shaven, etc to find a third that works out.  One guy in the triangle inevitably has the weaker connection.  But that wasn't the case here.  I just lacked the skills to bring us all together harmoniously, despite all my experience with group play.  This was different.

We all ended up getting our fill, but I finally dozed off with my own words of reproach echoing in my head, words that I couldn't deftly maneuver as trivial and harmless...  well, not until the next morning at least.

Friday, December 19, 2014

The stall

I'm getting old.  I'm starting to take a lot of comfort in hiking the same old trails instead of doubling back to explore the ones that have started to grow over... and am even more disinclined to blaze a new path.  But, to my credit, there are few areas that have been left unexplored, few sexual limits, especially from my younger years.  And here I am with my cock buried balls deep in a hot guy that I got bent over in a toilet stall of some fancy hotel and all I can think of is how hotter it'd be if I were fucking him missionary style on a bed.

I remember a time back in college where I would cruise the tea rooms and would get rock hard just being in a semi-public sex-charged environment.  Hell, it was in a similar stall where I first found out what an amazing blowjob felt like.  The term "expert cocksucker" was flung around with absolutely no meaning to me until I was 20 and this guy sat on a toilet with his pants bunched around his ankles while he sucked me to the point of climax before I even realized I had my dick out.  I was never able to cum from oral alone until I met this guy.  Six years of putting my dick in different mouths and he was the first to make me cum like that.

But now...  I'm hard.  I'm buried in a really nice ass.  And I'm totally frustrated.

I tried kicking his legs apart to get the right height, but was defeated by the shorts cuffing his ankles.  I tried pushing him forward a bit, but was blocked by the toilet.  The hem of my shirt kept getting in the way of me watching my cock slip in and out of his hole, so I just took the fucking shirt off and slung it behind me over the stall door.  I was making a lot of noise and the shirt would have been a dead giveaway if anyone were to walk in but dammit, I'm trying to get my fuck on and it's not quite working.

I collapsed on his back and reached around his front.  Fuck, he had a dense wiry mat of fuzz on his chest.  I grunted some sort of approval and some sort of anger that his tank top was getting in the way.  And as I did so, I felt how he responded to being man-handled.  There was a need there that I was more than willing to exploit.

Back upright, I used my knees to buckle his, grabbed a fist full of hair and used my other hand to press down on his lower back so that he was obscenely arched in an impossibly ridiculous and awkward pose while I used the leverage to pound his hold.  He loved that.  He started to pound his meat furiously while I assaulted his ass.  I wasn't anywhere near cumming, but I was getting off on him getting more and more turned on the way I used him.

He started to sway on his feet, knees locking and buckling.  He damn near flung me off.  He was at the cusp, so I bent over and grabbed his chest and gave one final shove while my arms pulled him down to my cock and he exploded.  Weak-kneed, I was struggling to hold him up.  If you couldn't tell by the way, I was trying to maneuver him, he was a half a foot taller than me.

I pulled out.  The used condom squeaky clean, which was a surprise.  I mean, it was the wee hours of the morning and I wasn't sure how prepared he was gonna be for a fuck.  We were both horny and checking out Grindr but also both with our partners in the same hotel so the obscure bathroom at the back of the hotel was the only place to play.  Even with the impromptu meet, I give him props for being clean.

I jostled around the small stall to unlatch and get out, leaving him there, his back still to me and panting as he leaned up against the side wall.  The beautiful, scruffy face of a guy almost a decade my junior glanced back at me.  I nodded at him and then bailed, thinking "Fuck, I wish we had a bed."

Monday, December 1, 2014

Snapshot: Quick face fuck

I was completely naked with his head in my hands.  He was squatting, knees hovering above the hard ceramic floor, tangled up in his shorts, still deciding if it was worth it to drop his knees to absorb some of the assault down his throat.  Shirt still on.  Barely three steps into my hotel room before I made him drop to his knees and take me into his mouth.

He had one of those perfect throats that seem to fit my cock in such a way that I feel a warm soft caress throughout the length of my cock, but the pace was off.  And I couldn't get quite as deep as I wanted.  My hands started to dig deeper, ten pressure points starting to massage his scalp and a blunt palm mashing his ears to his head.  His head felt heavier and heavier as the last of his will was silently passed over to me in a soft sigh, prayer position.

I rewarded with him impatience as I growled my dissatisfaction that even in his total submission he could not accommodate the curve of my cock.  With a sneer, I ripped the object of his idolatry from his throat.  Gave my cock a few quick strokes along the full length as he flinched from the gesture, mocking his failure, a flinch from a deep embarrassment. Not the one of automatic response like when I pulled my cock down and let go to have it stiffly rebound and slap him in the face.

He tried to catch it, but my grip from my other hand was too strong and he just opened his jaw to accept the abuse.  My hips aimed for his lips, found its target and then I mashed against his face for a couple deep pumps before I let my load squirt down his throat, as far as I could lodge my inches down his throat as it resisted.  And I spasmed, almost dislodging myself from his lips before he sucked with all his might to keep me in.  He surely felt the other volleys of cum I was blasting against his wet tongue.

And I felt him too.  I felt the wet slime against my calf.  I heard the heavy splatter as the cum that collected around his hand fell to the tile floor.  I don't think he was even stroking.  Just holding on while I took control of the face fuck.

And he looked up at me when I shot him a wry smile that silently flung names at him: dirty cock-sucking cum-whore bitch.  Who else would climax instantly from the taste of cum?

In one move, my palm partly slapped him and partly patted him on the head.  I nodded to the door, silently kicking him out while I turned away to clean up and get on with my day.