Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Snapshot: Avoiding the front desk

When I'm dropping by someone's hotel to dump my load in them, I usually try to avoid the hotel staff at all reasonable cost.  I mean, I usually go in and act as if I know exactly where the elevators are (even though I don't), trying to keep up the illusion that I'm an actual registered guest there instead of one of a pool of guys that are coming by that night to use the same bottom that's advertised their hole on Craigslist.  It's rather silly.  I'm sure they see plenty of people come in and out and they're not even paying attention.  Still, I opt for the fast paced walk to where I think the elevators are in the frantic "I left something back in my room and need to get it real quick"-type saunter.

This hotel, though, is foiling my plans a bit.

Apparently, their parking lot has this system where you can't pay at the gate.  You have to pay at the front desk.  Even if it's under the half-hour mark where it's free.  Unfortunately for me, I think I was upstairs for only 20 minutes.  Not unfortunate that I was under the grace period but that I finished so quick.

I get to the front desk on my way out from fucking my load into the CL whore and I kinda wanna say this:

"Could you validate my parking?  I'll happily pay that ridiculous $10 fee for each millisecond over your two minute grace period, but I'd rather not.  You see, I came here just to fuck this guy that advertised on craigslist that he's a former military guy and wants to be loaded up while he's here from out of town.  But when I got up there, he kinda had this weird body odor thing going on with his skinny guy with with a beer belly frame so I kinda wanted to be sure I got my nut out before you started charging me for using your tiny little parking space.  Luckily, that kid had a sweet wet hole that milked me of my load pretty quick despite not having any other load in there.  Fuck, I wanted to marinate my cock in a cum-lubed ass.  But oh, well. Anyway, could you at least reward me for making an attempt to hurry it up with the cumdump and just validate the parking for free?"

But I didn't say that.  Instead, when I got to the front of the line at the desk I just raised one eyebrow and held up my parking card.  The hotel clerk held out her hand for the card and took it when I handed it over, validated it, and then handed it back.  Not one word was exchanged.

Yeah, I don't know why I bother with the whole charade of being a registered guest sometimes...

Monday, January 5, 2015


I first caught a glimpse of him in person while I was looking over the balcony of the cheap motel I was at.  Arms crossed, fingers drumming against my bicep in a rhythmical pattern: pinky, ring, middle, pointer and back to pinky over and over again.  Yeah.  I was a little impatient.  Hell, I wasn't sure if he was really gonna show up.  We've been chatting on the apps for over a year and he always balked at every attempt I made to seal the deal.  It was always a rather specific yet polite decline in my offers, so I always felt like I knew where I stood so I didn't think of him as a time waster.  Still, the first yes kinda took me back by surprise.

I saw him through the windshield of his car and honestly, I was thinking he seemed a bit bigger than what his pics online implied.  When he stepped out of the car, it was confirmed.  He was a stocky guy. But he was stocky in all the right ways.  He carried his weight well.

But when we got together...  Fuck.  It's one of those times where you're so turned on that you have to pull back a little.  But when you do, you see that same intense attraction mirrored in his eyes and you fuck full throttle again.

During those lulls in-between, I'd witness the same wit from the apps come cross over into real life.  He's definitely a good guy.

And there are several moments that stick out in my head.  Vividly.  There's really no need to write them down 'cause my tongue is thick with the taste of memories.  But here's a few:

When I complimented him, he said "Thank you" in such a sincere way that I felt his gratitude and his conviction that my words were earnest, despite his otherwise self-deprecating manners.  The response wasn't coated in any sort of cockiness, but rather a burgeoning swagger.  He had said at one point, "Ten years ago, I think even I would fuck me."  Somehow, even that didn't come off as cocky.

He's a bit of a "low talker".  Deep baritone voice softly escaping his lips.  Reminds me of a Seinfeld episode...  And reminds me of (Daisy?) from the Great Gatsby where she would talk softly so that men would have to lean in to hear her, a form of manipulated intimacy.  Maybe it was a different Fitzgerald character.  I forget.  He also had a very slight lisp.  It was a good mix of frustrated expectations and dichotomies.  Deep voice, but softly spoken.  Big football build, but slight lisp.  Very direct in speech yet playful and witty.  Tentatively masculine.  I could see why guys usually want him to top.  He kinda threw off that vibe.  Yet, he admittedly is very clumsy at it.

He precums like fucking crazy.  I think I swallowed more precum than he produced when he came.

When I sucked on him and fucked the cum out of him, he made me feel like the best thing since sliced bread.  With his pubes tickling my nose and his dick tickling the back of my throat, I tongued the base of his cock and he nearly jumped out of bed.  And he showed me he paid attention to everything I was doing by mirroring it exactly on me.

And when I was picking my tongue, trying to get his hair out of my mouth, he said, "Yeah, it's wall to wall carpeting." Back, front.  Ass, chest.  Arms, legs.  All over.  And it was really nice.  Even his permanent five o'clock shadow that seemed to scrape off several layers of skin off my face when we made out was kinda nice.

Full of little moments like that.  So much so that I saw him twice in one week.  We played for about five hours the second time around.

And here I am.  Arms uncrossed but fingers still dancing.  This time in a staccato rhythm across this keyboard in front of me as I patiently try to form the words that pale in comparison to the memories etched into my mind.  Pointer, pointer, ring, thumb, ring, pointer. ring...  And a final ellipses...

Saturday, January 3, 2015

Musings: Numbers

So this is going to come off as a bit of an unstructured stream-of-consciousness type of an entry.  A bit unusual for me, but a lot less so lately because I feel like I'm constantly fighting the need to catch up on my encounters.  I'm doing my best to honor the guys I've played with a solid, concrete thought that I can hang onto in my mind.  Whether a good experience or bad, I'm trying to treasure the experience by meditating on each on and wrapping it into a memory I won't forget.

And then this happens:

graphic designer (2nd in double header)
when he tried to rim me, i accidentally told him that i wasn't feeling it
he basically jerked off while making out
i rolled on top of him and dry humped him until cumming on his back

That's literally what I wrote in my notes as something to expand on later in this blog.  Problem is, it's been so long that I have no fucking clue what happened or who this dude is.  Then I thought about.  I have over 125 entries now.  It's only been about a year since I've decided to take notes on each encounter so even though the 125 includes a bunch of repeats, there's also a bunch of guys that haven't been written about and a bunch more that were included in these little "catch-up" entries that I do to flush out the backlog of things to write about.  Ha!  God, I'm a whore.

I met this guy once that, at the request of his doc, kept an Excel spreadsheet of the guys he played with and after awhile, he realized that how active he perceives himself and how much his spreadsheet says he actually is was off by a factor of about 10.  Kinda got the same moment when, after about a month of scrolling past that entry and thinking to myself that it will eventually come back to me, I realized that it just might not ever come back to me.  And for some reason, that really scared me.  Scared me so much that I just sat there at the screen searching for that memory.  I gave up.

Then today, as I was searching for what to write about since I had some free time, the memory flooded back to me.  Suddenly.  Quite vividly.  I even remember our Grindr conversation.  What he looked like, the awkwardness.  Even the lighting in his room when we played.  One thing I don't remember is who the first was in this "double-header".

Now, however, as I started writing this entry, I realized that the entry below it...  Yeah.  Coming up with a blank on that one too.  Here's what it reads:

big bear visiting from austin
dogs got wild and couldn't keep it up
and chemistry wasn't quite there
a bit of an odd guy that i'm a little weary of
had a short but really fat cock that i enjoyed making shoot with my hand
didn't take him long and he was embarassed he was such a quick trigger but in my head i was kinda glad

This might come back to me.  Maybe not.  I'm noticing that both of these were of encounters that were less than satisfying so maybe that's why I'm having a hard time remembering them.  And I just counted what I have left to write: 24.  Luckily I remember each one of those...  for now.

Ha!  Yeah.  I'm a whore.  [high-five]

Thursday, January 1, 2015

And happy new year!

To celebrate, here's a random shot of my ass...