Sunday, May 31, 2015
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Friday, May 29, 2015
Her owner had a towel wrapped around himself from the morning shower. After banishing the pup and locking ourselves into his bedroom, I found that he liked his fuzzy belly rubbed too. And his fuzzy ass. Especially with my cock. In fact it didn't take long for me to rub a load out of him while my dick was sawing in and out of his ass.
When we emerged from the bedroom, the pup was there. She immediately ran to the other room and grabbed a toy. Apparently it's now her time to play with me.
Thursday, May 28, 2015
But no matter how much I abuse him and make him cringe or leave aftershocks of tenderness (funny how that word can mean showing gentle care or being sore as fuck... I'm referring to the latter of course) the next day, he always emails asking for more. No, scratch that, he literally begs for it.
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
So I'm at work way early. Early enough to either get breakfast or have someone for breakfast and I pop up Grindr and see this hot guy in a conservative shirt and tie, executive library background and I'm a little intrigued. Even more intrigued when I basically get him pining for my dick in his ass after a mere hello. That yin yang contrast of conservative looks and a dirty mind always kinda alluring. So I didn't think anything of it to ask for an address after a quick exchange of dirty pics. But he stalls. Asks for more details about what I'm into. What positions I like. What clothes I wear. What I eat for dinner, my opinions on the theory of relativity. I'm getting red flags, but the li'l guy that's straining my pants wins out and I continue to entertain his inquisition. Until I finally get tired and all the dirty talk actually does the opposite of what he intends and gets me completely soft. So I lay my cards down and tell him I think he's jerking me around and again ask for an address. I get a vague street name. Then an intersection. He'll give me more details as I get there to protect his safety. I don't quite get it, but the li'l guy perks up and I fall for it even though my head is screaming no. And of course, when I get there, he starts in on the dirty talk and questions. I'm literally a block away from you! Pull the trigger!
By the way, the street was that part of Venice (CA) where you have million dollar homes next to marijuana dispensaries and dilapidation not yet torn down for the young professionals of Silicon Beach. The same oxymoronic juxtapositions like a perv in republican garb (or maybe that's more redundant than oxymoronic these days).
He stalls again. And despite us laying everything out in playing bare and what position he'll be in, what lube he'll be using, what's gonna be playing, what lighting technique he's using, what's gonna be on his fucking dresser drawer and sheets done up in origami shapes for fuck's sake, he then changes the terms and wants to play safe. Which is fine. No big deal usually but he doesn't have condoms and I didn't have any on me and he knew I had left them behind and now he wants me to go to the pharmacy and get some.
Fuck that. I'm not gonna do all that for him to just block me before I get to his door.
Big head won out and I typed: forget it.
Little head threw a tantrum.
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
The boy's a twerker. Over six feet of solid beef. You can tell the weight bench in the corner of the room isn't a useless hoarder's decoration but an object of utility. Late twenties smooth body Latin with nipples that respond favorably to attention, protruding and begging for it really. Rounded muscular shoulders that extend beyond the expanse of his back and accentuating the slim waist... Down to the perfect bubble butt. I mean, nice round globes that are firm but yet jiggle. Just plain beautiful and perfect.
After teasing his hole, he motions for me to stay still. Instead of just backing up into me, he twerks and little by little his hole accepts more and more of my cock until I'm buried balls deep. The visual of his ass bouncing in front of me. The feel of the vibrations against my cock and his two perfect globes bounce off each other. His tight hole contracting and relaxing. And then this amazing velvet feel of my cock getting thrown around deep in his ass hitting against glans I've never felt before...
Then he stops. My turn now. And I just lay a fierce assault on his ass before slowing to a long stroke deep. Shallow thrusts feeling the head of my dick opening his outer ring. Handling his globes apart and using the head to probe and tease the inner ring.
Back to him. Him showing how he can milk a cock. Then me showing how I can please a hole. Back and forth, a conversation of discovery until he can't handle it anymore and begs for my load and I deliver it deep. Just as I cum, I bury myself as deep as I can and he can feel me pulse shot after shot into him.
"Fuck, you're gonna make me cum," he announces and as I come down from my own orgasm, I feel his start and the quivers around the base of my cock. He cums hands free. If I hadn't cum earlier that day, that would have set me off again.
Glancing back at me, the only thing I could do is stupidly peer at his scruffy face and chuckle at how amazing that was.
Monday, May 25, 2015
I peer up at him.
Stocky, mildly fuzzy. He kisses hard with the same wild abandon and frenetic energy as when he sucks cock. In fact, it kinda throws me off my game. And when he speaks, it's with a deep, smokey growl that makes my cock stiffen.
His hardon seems to have wilted a bit, though as I peer up at him as he presents his cock to me for sucking. And I take him down my throat, using my tongue to undulate across the underside, my cheeks hollowing out as I suck him deeper, I slowly feel his cock start to respond. It's just not responding as fast as I'd like and I'm pretty sure I know why. As I'm running through my rolodex of nifty techniques on his cock, my tongue, throat and mouth all busy, I'm still destracted: there's got to be a name for that type of piercing...
Sunday, May 24, 2015
Saturday, May 23, 2015
"Oh, my top, my top, mytop, mytop..." I've already fucked him once and loaded his ass. And have also shot another dribble on his balls. He's shot an equal amount of times, and each time was a lightening bolt streak of cum flying out and illuminating the world with white liquid radiance. And I'm not sure what he's trying to say. I'm not even fucking him. He's just repeating it over and over as I'm idly jerking him off and then he shoots again. This time it splatters up my arm and a couple drops hit my bicep. The next shot is launched farther and I can hear it land on the pillow next to my head.
"Fuck," I sigh. And I let my own load go as he tugs. Just a few dribbles. I'm tapped out. If we go for another round, I know I'm gonna be shooting blanks.
I roll onto my back and catch my breath. And out of nowhere, I utter softly, "You're a complete enigma..."
I wasn't talking about his chant right before he came and how I couldn't tell what was going on in his head. It's also because he's one of maybe two fuck buds that I know that are single and consider themselves on the DL. He lives in what I've heard is now dubbed the marina arts district and has artsy job but is insanely in the closet and I can see walls that he puts up everywhere both in his professional life and his personal so that the two don't intermingle. But I get glimpses of a really sensitive man. And a guy that's turned on by fucking someone that's involved, and that's aggressive, but loves to sub out. It's partly because we've probably only said ten words out loud to each other since we've known each other. The preferred method of communication is text and the vague clues on context and meaning from that technology. I've managed to at least get an understanding of a guy after meeting them six or seven times.
He baffles me. And that's really intriguing.
And I drift off to sleep listening to the music that he has in the background. A unique playlist that's doesn't delight in indie elitism, but is personally crafted to be restrained. Definitely a playlist of his creation. That makes sense. And that's my last thought as I doze, his goo drying on my arm.
Friday, May 22, 2015
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Hollywood good looks, really.
But that's where the chemistry stops. Awkwardly shifts from foot to foot, this "straight" married guy that was begging to be fucked was just gonna use me as a human dildo. No eye contact. Didn't want to kiss. Wanted the experience without giving anything of him in return.
He rode me reverse cowboy and wrapped. Probably the worse combination for me, so I started to take control and bent him over, getting out from under him in one move to start to pounding the fuck out of him doggie-style. He stopped me. Telling me to go easy. I'm hitting it too deep. Then he's bucking back against me trying to get deeper.
Fuck, it'd be so much easier if I could actually look into your eyes (or at least feel your hole and how it's responding, but the condom was kinda killing the sensation..) I was going floppy fast.
Tossed him onto his back, one leg on the shoulder and then I was fucking it into him. And he moaned. At this point, I just wanted the satisfaction of making him cum. He was only at half mast but I had it in my head that he needs to know that he wants dick and he's gonna cum from it. I'm gonna make him realize he's a fuckin' bottom bitch.
I manipulated his floppy as I pounded it into him and a drop of cum few out of his cock. It surprised him. He started to apologize and then I just pounded him harder and he let out a moan and then, "ohfucki'mgonnacumi'mgonnacumi'mcummingohfuckohfuck." I didn't let up until he squirted the last shot off his dick at half mast.
End to end, even with cleanup, he was at my place for 15 minutes. As my twitter bud pointed out, the pretty ones could be so much better in bed if they realized that it takes more than to just merely show up. Sex is best as a two-way conversation played out by the flesh.
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
"I know, I know. But, you're a mess. It's one thing to look at it but..." His voice trailed off. I think he was telling me that if the tables were reversed, he'd be scraping the caustic organic liquid off him with a scouring pad.
We had swapped head for nearly an hour. A thing of beauty. Considerably thick. Like a 6x8 cock instead of an 8x6. Quite a mouthful and just the perfect length so that I'm not quite gagging when I deep throat him. Cock-ringed and angry red, thrusted out insisting on constant attention.
And he was equally enraptured by mine. I think I was an inch longer at most, but he loved handling it and trying to get it balls deep. I basically dickmetized him for a bit and ended up getting the head in his hole before he snapped out of it and asked me to stop. He wanted it. I knew he wanted it.
But I ended up just fingering him as he stood in front of me. One hand massaging his balls and a finger caressing and pressing his prostate and the other jerking him with slow deliberate strokes. He shot all over me. And all over his couch. About 7 longs sprays of thick white cum splashing all around me. Right, left, an ooze down my fingers before another volley at my face. After he came, it only took me a few quick tugs before I unleashed three or four additional volleys up my chest.
I had barely taken two breaths before he was rushing to clean me up.
Fucker. I wanted to just wallow in the filth for awhile. Or at least taken a pic or something. I wanted to grab his wrist before the washcloth was wiping all over me. Grab it to use it to turn him around and then give him a giant bear hug from behind to paint his back with our cum.
But I was civil and just merely shook my head from side to side with a wry grin as he wiped me up, delicately, gently. He was blushing all the while.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
My fingers dance over the top like wind over prarie grass, blowing each follicle this way and that, letting the root system send signals deep under the skin to his brain. Then an exploding palm spreading heat, alternating with fingers of close proximity trying to bend the airwaves between each strand of hair straining like antennae to receive a signal.
I'm exploring. His sides are sensitive, he almost jerks when my fingers reach his arm pits, but then they instantly relax and he sighs a moan. His head jerks back when the stubble on my chin rests in the valley between his strong shoulders, causing his back to arch and his ass to lift in that perfect moment that my cock flexes.
But I delay that and alternate from soft caresses to blunt pressure of my palm and arm across his back to a thumb poking at the knots that are aching to be untied. And when I get to his ass, I lose composure. I stare at it for a brief moment, my hands holding his two globes apart while his hole expectantly twitches and then I all but fall into the crevice. Less swan dive and more face plant. I'm hungry and I can't believe the feast he's serving. My tongue swirls, laps, curly cues to broad swipes, and my nose can't get enough of his musk. And so my nose works lower and deeper until it is buried in his ass and I start to pass out from the lack of oxygen. Suck. Chew. And then he all but yelps when he feels my stubble rake across his hole as I move up. Up his cleft, up that valley from the bottom of his spine up to his shoulders. Abated breath. And then a deep contented sigh when I let the weight of my hips fall down onto him and the blunt head of my cock hits squarely against his hole.
And I enter him.
Monday, May 18, 2015
So, I can't tell if it's me or just the weird expectations of a 22 year-old.
On paper, he's a helluva find. A young, cubbish scruffy trucker. Like big-rig trucker. Big fantasy of mine ever since I read (an early version of what is now known as) a blog about this trucker dude that drives around the country naked in his rig and finds guys to fuck around with. The kid's another top, but he's willing to flip. We make arrangements to meet and set a time. But then that time has come and gone and I've been waiting around the approximate location of where we're to meet and finally gave up and texted a fuck buddy that I knew in the area for a quick pump and dump. Two hours after we were supposed to meet, he messages saying his phone died and he's ready to meet. I couldn't. And he gets all frustrated that I wouldn't meet him and saying he always gets jerked around with flakes.
Wait! How am I the flake?!
And then to top it all off, we basically ended the conversation saying that he was leaving town the next day and we couldn't reschedule. Two days later, I get a message saying that he just left and that he's sad I didn't text him to see if he was still available to meet.
"How was I supposed to know that you're still in town? Last thing you told me was that you're leaving the next day," I messaged.
"Well, you could have at least texted to see if I was still around."
Really? I'm supposed to chase you to the point of harassment and try read your mind?