Thursday, December 8, 2016

Wrapped up in thoughts

I've been in my head a lot... to the point where I was out with my teammates after a game and all I could do was think about how socially anxious I've become and how I really don't know my teammates that well. And it's just one of the many instances where I've been analyzing my relationship with other people instead of just living it.

I had a threeway with a couple recently. Apparently, I'm their first even though they have an open relationship and often play separately. And the first thing that happens is one guy points to his partner and says, "You're gonna have to work on him to get him comfortable. He gets really shy and body conscious sometimes." And as soon as he said it, I saw what he meant. It was nuts, cause he's an extremely handsome guy. But yeah, he stood there slightly tentatively with an expression of an aggressively masculine stoic nature. I couldn't tell if he wanted to fuck or to punch me in the face. But as soon as I pulled him into a kiss, I could feel him let go a little and eventually yield to being comfortable in his own skin and allowing himself to both desire and be desired.

He just emailed me recently and he told me he had some body dysmorphia issues and is just recently starting to feel what everyone is telling him: that he's a stunningly good-looking guy. And to encourage it even more, I told him even I don't get hit on as much as he does. He was surprised at that. After some reflection to make sure it just wasn't a hyperbole meant to encourage him to strut a little (he deserves to! And I don't think it will ever get to the point where he fundamentally changes and becomes cocky), I honestly don't know if it's true. It could be that I just don't get hit on by the guys I want to hit on me.

Here's the thing: to simplify our world, we've gotten so wrapped up into archetypes and conventions but I'm not sure I'm entirely conventional. The bigger beefier guy is often thought of to be more masculine and the more masculine is thought of to be the top. For some reasons, guys tend to think of Asians as more submissive which I can sorta understand on the cultural level where a lot of social situations are based on subtext instead of explicit instruction which can be seen as the opposite of dominant. Oh, and in porn, the guy with the bigger dick is always the top and I'm pretty average. Don't believe the guys I've been with. It's not big. They're just under a Jedi mind trick.

Anyway, so we generally use conventions to simplify our world so I tend to attract a lot of tops. And I generally don't let that stop me from playing with them. Sometimes I surprise them and they end up with my load buried in their ass. But here's the thing: I can't tell how much of my attractions are genuine and how much are social constructs. I'm really turned on by unexpected role reversals: the smaller guy topping the bigger guy, small cock with big egos, the younger kid manhandling an older daddy-type. Do I just have a natural affinity to older, beefier guys or is it some sort of constructed fetish? When I first came out, I spend a long time trying to figure out who I am, deconstructing things to get at my authentic self no matter how masculine or how feminine it was. And I kinda feel the same way about my physical attraction to others. How much of it is body dysmorphia leading me to like the opposite of me? How much of it is me trying to frustrate the status quo? And why can't I just get out of my head?

Saturday, October 29, 2016

When bloggers meet... (redo)

(Apparently some of the text got lost when I first published it so I'm redoing it...)

"You knew this was how we were gonna end up, huh?"

I assembled a reply of assent to the largely rhetorical question before blurring out a guffaw that I stifled as quickly as possible but not before changing the angle a tiny bit and fucking my inches into him for emphasis. It was a move that borderlined the affected. The laugh, the swagger, the confidence that I could persuade a man to give himself to me and the little sway of the hips before I plunged it all into him... all a little more cocky and self-assured than I really was. To be honest, I wasn't sure if we were going to meet at all, let alone where we ended up: in a motel bed by his work with my cock buried inside him and me slack jawed in amazement that anything could feel as good, eyes feasting on the beauty that lay below me.

I've followed James/JFBreak ( ) on blogger for several years now. Half a decade? Long enough to move to his hometown and then back out. I had commented on his blog a few times and then emailed him directly when I found that I was gonna move to his city. I completely ignored his advice on where to live, not without a little regret. Through the correspondence and just reading the blog itself, I was struck by the level of his authenticity. A clearly strong voice, even as it expresses doubt or hope and a voice that challenged me to allow for another point of view that's completely not my own. I've never had an inkling of bi-phobia, that derisive stance that some gay guys get thinking bi guys just won't pick a side and are really just gay men in disguise. At the same time, I've never challenged my own spectrum of sexuality, never fully analyzed my own curiosities of the other sex despite my affinity to female breasts and also never truly meditated on my views of fidelity.  He exposed to me the whole world of swingers, cucks, hotwives - communities that finally assembled and articulated my views on compersion, that antonym to jealousy, that excitement from seeing my partner flirting and/or going to bed with other men. So fuck yeah, I tried to meet him when I got to his town.  Partly because he's just become a powerful figure in my head but also just to thank him in a way I knew how: give him that experience of a real cock in his ass. Though we shortened the gap, geographical proximity always came into play as well as schedules as we were both arranging things outside of our respective relationships so things just didn't plan out. But I also suspect a large part of it was insecurity on both our ends on how it would play out.

So no, I honestly didn't know this was how we'd end up. I was completely off my game when I first opened the door to let him in. A bundle of nerves. He's someone I've been dying to meet for a long time. And when I found him to be just as hot as I suspected him to be, I was completely awkward. Handshake that quickly got aborted for a hug and kiss that was jerky and kinda missed the mark. I just wasn't quite sure how much I can get away with. I'd have sucked his face off and petted the skin off his body if I didn't hold back a bit and let things play out.

And the banter in between was completely him.  Absolutely congruent with the persona online. It's that weird duality of confidence of his own identity even as he expresses his short comings. It's almost as if he's defiantly self-deprecating as we compare cock size and take pictures. His incredibly masculine build, fuzzy chest and broad shoulders were proudly on display despite his own admonishments about his self-consciousness. And my cock resoundingly answered that whatever he is, the combination and conflicting messages were hot as hell.

Let me just say this, though.  The kid sucks a mean dick. And fuck, he's tight.  I know my cock.  It was once described as torpedo shaped.  Smaller at the base with a thick part in the middle before rounding out to the tip.  And as I tried to ease my way in, I felt his hole throb around my shaft.  I went in slowly, his body gripping me and trying to memorize each countour as I slipped in millimeter by millimeter.  Then I hit the wall.  I was coming up to the thickest part of my shaft.

"Is the head in?" he asks.

"You're a lot further along than you think!"

He's responding to that wall that we're hitting, that thick part that once you get past, your hole will suck the rest in, like with an anal plug.  I paused for a moment, waiting for that moment where his hole will ease up a bit and start to flower open.  And just when I felt that, I made my dick swell just a little bigger and then inched in just slightly and his hole did the rest, sucked the rest of me in until I was balls deep inside.

I fucked the cum out of him, pulled out and lapped his cum up from his body while he reflected on how he couldn't tell when his orgasm started or when it ended.  And when he expressed some concern that I didn't get off, I shrugged.  It was the furthest from my mind.  I was simply elated to have met him and even more thrilled that we got to play the way we did because honestly, I didn't plan it at all and no, I seriously didn't know that this was how we'd end up.

Friday, October 28, 2016

When bloggers meet...

"You knew this was how we were gonna end up, huh?"

I assembled a reply of assent to the largely rhetorical question before blurring out a guffaw that I stifled as quickly as possible but not before changing the angle a tiny bit and fucking my inches into him for emphasis. It was a move that borderlined the affected. The laugh, the swagger, the confidence that I could persuade a man to give himself to me and the little sway of the hips before I plunged it all into him... all a little more cocky and self-assured than I really was. To be honest, I wasn't sure if we were going to meet at all, let alone where we ended up: in a motel bed by his work with my cock buried inside him and me slack jawed in amazement that anything could feel as good, eyes feasting on the beauty that lay below me.

I've followed James ( ) on blogger for several years now. Half a decade? Long enough to move to his hometown and back out. I had commented on his blog a few times and then emailed him directly when I found that I was gonna move to his city. I completely ignored his advice on where to live, not without a little regret, but through the correspondence and the blog itself, I was struck my the level of his authenticity. A clearly strong voice, even as it expresses doubt or hope and a voice that challenged me to allow for another point of view that's completely not my own. I've never had a strong sense of bi-phobia, that sense that some gay guys get that bi guys just won't pick a side and are really just gay men in disguise, but at the same time I never also challenged my own spectrum of sexuality, never fully analyzed my own curiosities of the other sex despite my affinity to female breasts, and also never truly meditated on my views of fidelity.  He exposed to me the whole swingers, cucks, hotwives community that finally assembled and articulated my views on compersion, that antonym to jealousy, that excitement from seeing my partner flirting and/or going to bed with other men. So fuck yeah, I tried to meet him when I got to his town.  Partly because he's just become a powerful figure in my head but also just to thank him in a way I knew how: give him that experience of a real cock in his ass. Though we shortened the gap, geographical proximity always came into play as well as schedules as we were both arranging things outside of our respective relationships. But I also suspect a large part of it was insecurity on both our ends on how it would play out.

So no, I honestly didn't know this was how we'd end up. I was completely off my game when I first opened the door to let him in. A bundle of nerves. He's someone I've been dying to meet for a long time. And when I found him to be just as hot as I suspected him to be, I was completely awkward. Handshake that quickly got aborted for a hug and kiss. I just wasn't quite sure how much I can get away with. I'd have sucked his face off and petted the skin off his body if I didn't back away a bit and let things play out.

And the banter in between was completely him.  Absolutely congruent with the persona online. It's that weird duality of confidence of his own identity even as he expresses his short comings. It's almost as if he's defiantly self-deprecating as we compare cock size and take pictures. His incredibly masculine build, fuzzy chest and broad shoulders were proudly on display despite his own admonishments about his self-consciousness. And my cock resoundingly answered that whatever he is, the combination and conflicting messages were hot as hell.

Friday, October 14, 2016


"You know what would really get me going?" he asks. Almost sheepishly, reluctantly. I could almost hear the conflict in his voice, afraid to request, afraid to insist on his needs as he's used to subjecting himself to the will of others. The bottom that gives himself wholly to a top. And as the beneficiary of such attention I'm honored to give as much of it back.

We had started from the moment I walked into the door with a soft but frenzied kiss. And try as we might to practice a little restraint to actually introduce ourselves and slice a little civility into the barbaric lust between us, we only came up with half-finished phrases, a dull dinner knife trying to pry apart magnets that splinter into echoes of fragmented conceits.

One thing was clear though. He focused a lot of praise on the objects of his affection to the detriment of his own self, comparables that always left him deficient despite his stunning good looks. Beautiful eyes of various shades that danced and swirled over the iris, drawing you in. Ginger scruff that complemented those eyes. Broad shoulders. Capped with muscle. And triceps that naturally bulge into an inverted U. Dusting of soft fuzz across his muscular chest. Oh, and a magnificent cock that probably more than rivaled my own, bigger in both girth and length even in a semi-aroused state. Basically the quintessence of masculinity and he can't even see it in himself.

So as he sung his praises in me, I did my best not to deflect but to accept his strokes of my ego and I used that energy to send it right back, whispering his name to make him feel it reverberating to his core (yeah, I see you kiddo...), soft strokes along his back, lengthy flicks of the tongue down his back to the mounds of his ass, and using just the feast of hunger as lube - long, deep and insistent strokes of my cock as I fucked him until I shot my load deep inside.

And here I am, spent and panting, the recipient of such affections as he gave himself to me and I haven't given nearly as much back. So when he strikes up the courage to ask me to help him get off, I take it as a sign that I've finally gotten through to him that he deserves just as much attention as he doles out. So I reply, "Yes. I want to know more than anything right now."

"I... uh... would love to have your cock in my mouth right now..."

My cock is glistening with natural juices from our play and topped off with a pearl of cum still oozing from the tip. And I shoved it down his throat for him to nurse as his cock instantly hardened to a stiffness I haven't seen before. As my cock hardens again down his throat, he strokes with an urgency until he sprays us with his load.

And that totally gets me going.

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Can't, want

"I... I can't... I'm not ready..." he whispers, half in a plea and half in a sigh of resignation. He's conflicted, and it shows in his face. His legs are hooked over my shoulders and my cock is resting squarely against his hole with a mess of throat slime lubing him up enough so that my head starts to ease in. 

But I see it in his eyebrows, a semicolon of two opposing expressions of desire and concern, I read it between the lines that crease his forehead. He wants me inside him but he's afraid. He really isn't ready. Not in the sense that he hasn't cleaned out but in the sense that he isn't emotionally ready to give in to his desire. 

"Don't worry, kiddo. I get it," I say, playfully using the diminutive ironically as he's probably a half dozen years my senior.  And with a slight change in the angle of my hips, my cock slips from its target and glides up the valley between his legs.

His body shakes.  His legs tremble upon my shoulders from the explosion of sensation as I thrust the heat of my shaft against his ass. I want nothing but to put those pleading eyes at ease, to protect him from whatever harm he's trying to shield himself, and to also fulfill that desire that his body so desperately needs. I already felt it before.  His cock went from perky to fully erect by the time my cock hit his lips. And it went harder still when he felt my hands wrap around his head and force him down to deep throat me to the base. He wasn't overly experienced but he was a natural. And he has such deep needs.

So as I bucked my hips in a wave of motion, letting him feel my pass his hole at every ebb and flow, I leaned down.

I get it, kiddo.

And I kissed him. 

His whole body seemed to draw me in and in just mere moments, I felt him shudder as he came hands free. Just that extra touch of us chest to chest, lips to lips as his legs wrapped around to accept more of me set him off. 

And it was exactly what he needed.

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Recognition, changes

It's been years since I've been here. It's an adult book store adjacent to a strip club and for some reason, I always remembered it being a lot closer to the freeway. Figured it'd be a quick pit stop on my way back from work. I usually take the train into work but I was needed at one of our other offices and I'm simply just not used to driving in traffic anymore. I needed a break from the stop and go. I needed some relief. It wasn't even all that bad by LA standards, an average of 30 mph but I had another 40 miles to go and the monotony was getting to me.  Then I came up to the exit for the bookstore and memories flooded back and FelchingPisser's recent tales at the bookstore near his hood came to mind and I decided to pull off and make the stop.

I've only been to this place half a dozen times. What struck me was how unapologetic it was about being a space for guys to get off. There were paper towel dispensers in each booth of the video arcade. All of them had glory holes, which looked less like vandalism but intentional features from the proprietor.  Some booths had electronic windows that would go opaque or clear so that you can see the occupant next to you. It was practically a bathhouse maze.

But that was then. Now, the air was different. The configurations seemed different too. Less cruisy, more proper somehow.  The etiquette seems to have changed and I'm adjusting to determine the rules of the subculture. I had spent five bucks at a booth without a door. Guys came by just to peer in and flee in horror when they saw me openly stroking my cock to the vids. Only one guy, a handsome, stocky but muscular Latino came into the booth to grope and stroke for all of two seconds before moving on. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to follow or not.

I fed a machine that was already running and saw a curious guy in the next booth through the glory hole. He peered through the hole to watch me stroke, obviously interested, so I pushed junior through just to get a rather awkward handjob. I pulled out to motion for him to push his through, but he whispered that he already came. 

I was a bit baffled. It seemed like this was for strokers, but private stroke sessions through a glory hole. 

I walked out of the booth trying to figure things out and literally bumped into someone I know.  A platonic friend.  Completely social. We brushed shoulders as I had walked out in a daze. We both smiled at each other for a moment before my smile faltered. I believe the thought process was:

"Oh fuck, it's Jim."
"What the fuck is he doing here?"
"Oh yeah, he lives in this neck of the woods..."
"He's actually looking pretty good in that work polo, with his company name embroidered over his left chest."
"Hm, I wonder what he looks like naked..."

That whirl of thoughts happened in all of a second before we heard a voice over the PA system, "You can't just stand around. Go to a booth and feed the machine."

I was startled. And kinda blushed since I know the attendant was talking about us.

I went into a booth and half-heartedly closed the door, leaving it unlocked. He saw what I did and followed behind me. 

I smiled broadly and looked at him. He smiled back. But there was a blank quality behind it. I realized, through the darkness, he didn't recognize me yet. 

The guy in the next booth was peering at us through the glory hole. So I whipped it out and started stroking. Jim took over for a second. Just long enough for me to fish out his cock and stroke his. He basically confirmed what i had found out. This was pretty much just a tug and go kinda place.  Then, quite shakily, in a voice of pure need, he hoarsely whispered, "Could you sick it?" And then he added, "Please?"  A voice of pure need and desire that was so out of character for him, a guy I've known to be so laid back and reserved. 

I fell to my knees, angled him so we could put on a good show for the guy next door, and licked the length of his shaft. It quickly grew to an impressive size. A solid eight inches at least. Another quite astonishing fact as his personality lends itself to being very modest and slight.

He moaned a long sigh of as I worked him slowly to the back of my throat, undulating my tongue against the bottom as it slid down. Then I formed a nice seal and sucked him hard before releasing it and letting the drool form and pool to let the weight of his shaft slide back out of my mouth. I continued, varying the technique. Up and down. And he lost his inhibitions and started to face fuck me. A long and thick shaft crammed down my throat. Pulling all the tricks out of the book until he ripped my head off him. 

I took that as a queue that he wanted to return the favor so I stood up but he simply stroked me.

Fuck that.

I went back on my knees and inhaled him. 

"Wait, wait, wait..." he whispers.

I let go for a second to ask why only to have him spurt in the air.  What a waste. I took him back into my mouth to get the last drops before he got hypersensitive and tapped my shoulder.

And as I stood up, he could help but laugh. The sign of a happy customer.

As he started to pull up his pants and make himself presentable, he asks, "So where do you live?"

"Jim, it's me."

He laughs again, "I kinda thought so but I wasn't sure. It's kinda dark in here."

"No worries. And I got a haircut. And I'm never on this side of town."

"Yeah, that confused me!"

"It's all good. See ya Wednesday!" And I left the booth to head to my car.

I wasn't sure what was gonna happen later in the week when our friends were getting together for dinner. Things evolve. Just as the arcade became desexualized to a degree, my relationship with Jim was gonna change to one that muddled the lines of casual friendship and conversely become more sexual.

Interesting how things change.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

To the top

He's carrying the leather case he grabbed from the garage. He says it's a stick for his billiards league. Makes sense that he'd grab them from the heat of the car but for a moment I wondered as it could have been a musical instrument... Or a small rifle... The things that go through your head as you follow a random hookup up a staircase. His story probably checks out as he's in the gayborhood and there's plenty of bars around but still, the pulse that's already quickened in anticipation of hooking up hits a new high with the uncertainty. Additionally, we both couldn't host in the traditional sense so we settled on doing a quick meet at his place and going up the stairwell to the rooftop. I'm hyper-alert, hyper-sensitive.

I suspect we are both partnered but play on the side. Yet another backstory that I make up in my mind, a story as we ascend another story, another landing up the stairwell, things that are calculated and weighed in my mind as I take one step and then another to whatever might lie ahead at the top of the deck.

The air doesn't help any either. It's warm out and the air is trapped in the stairwell, hotter by several degrees every flight of steps we take up.

As we reach the top landing, my heart is pounding in my ears. The physical exertion, the anticipation of getting my hands on this handsome man, the heightened alert to avoid being caught in a public space, the complete loss of control of what may happen at the top of the stairs. I'm hard as a rock in my shorts as I take a brief pause, enough for him to turn around to face me, before I push the mountain of a man against the wall and greedily seek his lips and force my tongue down his throat. No small feat as he has several pounds on me and a third of a foot in height. The surprise in his frame melts as we connect and his hands wraps around me to fold me into him. All of me. I'm engulfed. He's massive and strong.

His hands wander down to squeeze my ass and my lips curl up into a smile as we make out. Yeah, he's another top. I knew it going into it. We've tried to connect several times but timing never worked out as far as finding a hosting bottom to tag team.

Then he starts petting down my front with his meaty paws, grabbing at my hard cock through the fabric and frantically trying to free it, lustful fumbles, until he finally gets my fly down and pulls my cock free over the band of my briefs. A grunt as he admires the sight of my proudly pulsing cock in the thick, warm air and then he engulfs it with this throat in one swoop. I pull at the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head in a yoke as I grab his head and force it down. He has incredible control with his tongue. I feel it undulating over my cock as it slides to and fro, pass his gag point and down his throat. My fingers tighten over his head, piercing themselves onto the buzz of his shaved head as I fuck his throat. He takes it easily but in a few moments I rip his head off and push him back against the wall to make out again and fumble at his belt. I'm less successful. A failure really. He assists at unbuckling himself and shucking down his shorts.

He's equally massive under his shorts. I might have beat him a little on length but he has me on girth. Maybe doubly so. A meaty column, a beaker of meat that I anxiously oval my throat to try to pour the contents down my throat.

I feel like I'm all teeth but he lets a big moan out before stifling it, realizing where he's at. Grabs my head. Starts a full on face fuck before suddenly letting go.

"Too good. You're gonna make me blow."

I don't acknowledge his comment but to take over the face fuck and impale my throat his cock, bobbing up and down, salivating and letting the drool fly as I pierce the back of my throat with that thick unit.

And then I feel it. That stiffening of the meat in my mouth. The recoil. But I only get a slight taste as he fucks the orgasm down my chute. Just a small taste. The rest went straight down.

I kneel back on my haunches to catch my breath. Drenched in sweat now. Mine and his. Slobber all over. And as I look up from that position, I see that wry smile that I know so well, the smile of a top that's just dumped an amazing load. And I get kinda shy.

Wednesday, July 20, 2016


I've always gone through cycles of greater activity on this blog to less, but this time feels like an especially long trough. I think a large part of it is I just got a lot going on. Moving, new job, stuff like that. Then when faced with the choice of fucking or writing about it, I generally choose the former.

But there's another thing: my relationship to the blog has sorta changed in some interesting ways. I remember on the onset, I just wanted to capture those beautiful moments with a trick. Honor that delicate moment that spans such a comparatively small amount of time and immortalize it. Those little moments of discovery. That achingly human side of what people normally cast off as so trivial and frivolous - the hook up. And honestly it was refreshing to just unleash like that being a guy that's not generally open about that sorta thing to his friends.

Recently, I kinda feel like things have changed.

I made a New Years resolution to only jerk off during sex. No more solo moments of me with tumblr on one hand and my dick in another. My cum loads were kinda bleh and I figured I'd be backed up firing massive loads if I didn't jerk off so much. But it kinda had the opposite effect. I just ended up fucking a whole lot more. Holy crap! I've been traveling for work so the opportunity was there more. I gotta say, though, part of it was also me wanting to find great experiences to write about. And that kinda feels weirdly inauthentic. It's like a cultural anthropologist mucking with the new group of people he's trying to document. How much of it is real and how much is created?

I'll still be writing, but probably not as frequently as I have previously. And I'll be using the other formats as well. I've been posting more visual content on Tumblr and occasionally throwing short thoughts/blurbs on Twitter. Feel free to stalk me across platforms. Ha!

So... How much have I been fucking around? I kinda wondered that too so as you may have remembered, I started to keep a spreadsheet. At the end of June, I looked at it and thought, holy cow. Ha! Time to spend more time focusing on other things besides my dick! Well, just a little. Cause my dick gets into a lot of fun and I'm cool with that. Ha!

More to come! Including a meet with a fellow blogger from NYC!

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Stiffy on the subway

So, I was in NYC lately and there was a moment where I just merely stepped into a crowded subway car and immediately got a stiffy. Not that anyone was hot enough or close enough to cause it but I could totally see someone getting jerked off without anyone else knowing in a fully packed car. And why would I think that would happen? Well, flashback to a couple months ago and I spent the night with a guy that I finally ended up in the same city with. We are both business travelers and have been missing each other just by a day or two as we fly around the states. We've just fucked for well over two hours with two loads sprayed all over my body and one of mine lodged deeply in his hole as he curled into my chest and had a soft moment of reflection. He grew up in Manhattan and he recalled a time where he was still in high school and getting back from school on a crowded car and a guy just started to fondle him. He didn't protest. The first time it happened he came in his undies. The second time he bumped into the same guy in the same route back home, he had his cock hauled out and came all over the front of his pants. The third time? Well, he followed the guy home and they ended up fucking. And that was how he lost his virginity. I have mixed emotions about the story but one thing I'm clear on is how authentic it was. An experience I can't really fathom but nevertheless so breathtakingly real. So when I stepped onto that crowded car, that story came back to me. And more importantly the man behind that story came back to me. All his beauty, all his talents as a lover. A fucking sex pot. And that was my beautifully authentic moment.

So I got hard. Unfortunately, nobody lent a hand so that I could spooge my pants.

Saturday, June 4, 2016


He's looking up at the ceiling while he softly ends his sentence with neither the weight of absolute assertion nor the tentative questioning draw of insecurity.  Then he shrugs.  He did it a couple of times over the course of the hours we spent together.  Always at the end of a plainly stated statement that one would like to object to but one is quickly dismissed by those exquisite shoulders, those broad rounded caps that bookshelf nothing less than pure sensual masculinity in between.  It's a powerful move.  I forget the exact statements, but they were just facts.  No more, no less.  It is what it is.  And his shoulders flexed to challenge you to defy the powerful serenity of acceptance.  "I was rather awkward as a child."  Shrug.  "Home ownership is a nuisance."  Shrug.  "The sky is painted with swirls of neon purple."  Shrug.  Okay, maybe I made up that last one, but there's still that tendency to object in some form with all of those statements but the shrug stops you, a shrug that I would normally attribute to some sort of deflection but instead firmly feels sourced in absolute peace.  The fuzz on his chest branches out from the trunk of his abs to reach out to those powerful shoulders.

We're just chatting idly after he shot a massive load on me.  Actually, most of it was over me, hitting the sheets above my head while he was riding me.  I was trying to get through his refractory period so I could fuck another load out of him.  He's just too damn hot to leave after a single load and I was just too intoxicated by everything that is him to follow a coherent thread of conversation.  Wasn't my best work in being a conversationalist.  Random topics that would blurt out my mouth as I struggled to make sense of the things his body in such close proximity was doing to me.

He's only the second tumblr follower that I've played with in real life.  A rather inefficient way to find a hookup but awesome in that I get to see what he's into before we actually meet.  

I gave up the fight and just started pawing at him and his hole.  Hands traced down the swirls across his hairy, solid chest, down the trim waist, and over the firm muscular biker legs that I spread to reveal a massively thick and lengthening cock.  Just one hundred percent pure masculine sexuality.  There's some things that you just can't deny and simply shrug off.

Monday, May 9, 2016


"I hate LA," LeatherCub says.

I don't take offense.  I've been in LA long enough to know it's not for everyone.  I have my own theories about it.  It usually comes from guys that haven't been here too many years.  And they're usually complaining about the superficial nature of "the industry" and how people are just fake nice.  It's not quite the midwestern nice, but a bit of an arrogant, judgey nice.  And I see it.  But then, I see it in the niches I don't quite frequent.  I've also gotten the disdain from east coasters about the socio-economic and racial segregation in a city of suburban sprawl.  But then, in my travels, I've seen a lot worse.  I kinda wonder which track he's going to go in his contempt for the city.

"So why you hatin'?" I ask.

"I dunno.  The guys here are so damn shallow."

Ah.  The superficial track.

"You can't just leave it at that.  Elaborate," I command as I take a fry and pop it into my mouth and gnosh.  We're at the Del Taco.  One of the few places open after I spent a couple of hours drilling his ass so hard that he constantly feels like he has to pee or poop or something but nothing comes out.  He's not walkin' funny or anything like that.  It's all internal.

"So far, I've only met maybe three guys that I can actually have a decent conversation with.  Something that extends beyond the pleasantries.  It's as if this whole town has gone dumb.  And you know who those three guys are?  One is my boss.  The other is this one guy I dated for awhile.  And the third is you."

"That IS really sad if I'm setting the bar on the high end," I say.  Yeah, I'm not good at accepting a compliment.  Especially when it comes at the cost of the whole city's intelligence level.  "But seriously, we didn't really talk about anything really deep.  Let's see.  We went through a few pop psych terminology and you might be able to say we talked about economic theory if you wanna stretch the truth a bit 'cause I only remember saying how the rental market in Playa Vista is insane right now..."

And really.  I didn't know where he was going with it.  Partially it's because I also know a couple of folks that have quasi-intellectual conversations but they seem so abstract that I wonder where the person behind it is.  It's like they're using big words to deflect people from seeing their authentic selves.  Or better yet, those guys that hold witticism in such high regard but their version of of a witty retort is like a freshly cut bouquet, a beautifully fragile slice of life that's just going to decay.  It's the opposite of a bitchy remark, one that's ripe with aggressively fertile, budding beauty, that I think of as the authentic and yeah.  That's rare indeed.  But I don't think defaulting to conversation and remarks that are easy as shallow.  Lazy maybe, but not shallow.

"Besides," I continue, "you can't expect everyone to have the same life experiences that would make conversations as elevated as you'd like."

"But there's a difference.  You're confident enough to ask and challenge me if you don't understand or don't agree."

"While others just smile and nod?"

"Exactly!  You know what I mean, right?"

I just smile at him blankly.  And slowly nod.

He laughs.  "Fuck you," he says.

"Sure! Now?" I ask.  Yup.  Just me being lazy, stupid and shallow as I turned the conversation back to sex.  I think I'm okay with being shallow.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

More... and less

"Come on, please?  Do it for me?  I'll make sure you have a good time," I tell TheTwerker.  I'm trying to convince him to go to a house party that I just got an invite for.  I've been to a couple of them and have even written about one awhile back.  It's thrown by an Asian guy with a really hot, lean ripped body.  He shares the house with a bigger bear of a man that is never around when these parties are thrown.  However, they also throw parties together that are more social in nature but catered to the bear crowd.  I've been to those too.  And those are more about hanging around the pool, cruising other guys and possibly taking them to the back room designated as a play space.  Just a different feel from the all-out sex party I'm trying to convince TheTwerker to go to.

"I don't know," he says.  "I'm actually really shy and self-conscious about my body."

I wanna slap him.  Over the phone.  But all I can muster is slapping the phone against my forehead.  He has a naturally thick body, but he's far from out of shape.  Not to mention, he has the hottest bubble butt around.

"I'll invite GeekyCub.  At least that way, even if you don't find anyone interesting, the three of us can play."

But I get the same response.  GeekyCub is self-conscious about his body and is hesitant to commit, though I can sense he's very curious.

"But you're hot as hell!  Your body type is totally 'in' right now.  Quintessential bear stud.  With a nice, thick cock."

"Well, yeah, I know YOU like my body but there are those that don't and our community isn't always very kind."

This news is actually kinda new to me.  For both TheTwerker and GeekyCub.  I've always had a good time with these two and since we've had a threeway before, I actually was kinda surprised about their reservations about playing in a larger group.  I made a mental note.  I'm gonna need to nurture the inner stud of these two.  They're cock-blocking themselves and I just can't have that.

Well, after lots of persuasion, they agree to go and fast forward a couple hours, we're rolling through the door.  I greet the host and start stripping in the common room almost immediately just to guide my buds and sorta lead by example because there were a few people walking around fully clothed or stripped to their boxers but with their shirts on.  The host has a rule that he doesn't enforce, but he wants everyone to their underwear.  A means to get the right tone from the start and a vibe that facilitated more action and less cruising.

There are basically three rooms available.  One was the common room/dining room where people were storing their stuff, the other was the living room where there's a giant screen showing some porn, and finally a bedroom that had a curtain instead of a door to block off the light as people come and go from the room.  We started in the porn room and all sat down.  A lot of guys sitting and staring at the screen.  I had GeekyCub to my left and TheTwerker to my right and just started to idly feel them up while we watched.  A few guys start streaming in and one is this beefy cub type with an adorable face.  We make eye contact and he pulls up a piece of floor next to us.  Lots of people grabbing their own crotches and I move my foot over and start feeling up the new cub's calf.  Basically playing footsies.  He starts to play with GeekyCub whose amenable and then starts to scoot over so he's between us.  The kid's hungry.  He doesn't waste any time hauling both our coks out to alternate between the two of us.  GeekyCub pulls him off though.  The excitement is a bit too much.  A tall, toned Asian guy in some Andrew Christian briefs joins the group forming around us and starts to move the cub's head over to me and guiding it down.  Ah.  The director type.  ACBriefsGuy starts quietly spewing porn dialog as encouragement, a whisper that sounds like megaphone-assisted in the otherwise silent room.  The cub gets up from his knees to kiss me and I go one step further and grab him firmly by the waist and hoist him on top of me so that my cock is nestled neatly against his asscheeks as we make out.

My cock starts to pulse precum against his ass.

"Yeah, I want you to fuck your big cock into him and breed his ass," ACBriefsGuy says looking straight into my eyes.

My cocksucker hesitates for a second before resuming to make out with me and then breaks free to whisper in my ear, "You got condoms?"

I nod and he hops off me and makes his way to the dark bedroom while I go back to the common room and rummage through my bag for some condoms and lube.  When I finally caught up with him in the bedroom, there were about a dozen guys already there standing against the walls and idly playing with their bulges, various states of undress.  I'm just surprised that nobody has started playing yet.  But you know me.  I'm not shy.  And I'm don't mind being the catalyst to get the party started.

I reconnected with the cub and make him kneel before me and nurse on my cock some more while I rip open the condom.  Then toss him onto his back onto the bed.  While staring right at his eyes, I slap my cock on his ass and start to tease his hole.  And before he can warn me about how tight his hole is, I'm already up his ass full tilt and his eyes widen and he moans the sound of fulfilled desire involuntarily.  I show off a little.  I pull his legs up and fuck up into him while supporting some of his weight in my tight grip.  I slow to a glide that goes all the way in and out so that he can feel my length.  I lean into him with one hand on his chest, a grip just below the neck with a slow deliberate withdrawl followed by a rough fuck in so that our flesh meets with an obscene smack that thunders through the room.  There's a point where I notice that his eyes come back to focus and he looks around the room.  He wants to be spit roasted but nobody is taking the bait.  I'm surprised as well.  Pretty soon, I find his cock with a free hand and stroke him in time to my fuck and he starts to complain and I shake my head.  His body his mine now.  And he's going to acquiesce to my will and cum.  He shot hard.  He wasn't even finished cumming when he let out a little chuckle and a "oh fuck."

And that was it.  Just a room full of onlookers.

It was kinda awkward.  Just a bunch of silent onlookers.  The cub felt it too.  Felt the need to address everyone.  So he said, "This guy...  He knows how to fuck.  Holy shit!"

I laughed. "Dude.  You're supposed to set the bar low for me."  Didn't quite break the ice.

And that was pretty much the tone of the whole night.  I went to check in and TheTwerker had seen me fuck but then returned to the porn room and just kinda hung out by the couch.  GeekyCub watched a bit and was hard as fuck too, but quickly shied away from anyone that gave him attention.

I went back to the bedroom and ACBriefsGuy is playing with a bear with a full beard.  The bearish guy turns my way and does a double-take.

"Hey, again!" he says.  I get closer and instantly recognize him.  He's a bear from Hollywood that I met at one of the parties here a couple years ago.  We ended up playing together for the whole party and then a couple of months later, I fucked him three or four times during an overnighter.

The three of us made out with each other for awhile before I shied away.  Didn't want to be a cockblock.

Back in the porn room, an older guy with a bit of bad breath told me he liked his nips played with.  I started to play and noticed the biggest reaction the rougher I got.  I held onto his hand to prevent him from trying to push my head off him.  Suddenly I felt a guy sucking on me while I was making the nip guy squirm.

"Please," he says in a breathless whispter.  "Why are you so mean to me?"  I honestly knew I was going too far but I couldn't help it.  Just love feeling a guy squirm.

A young latino that was one of many of the onlookers was shy and then came closer and closer until he just kneeled down in front of me and started sucking my cock.  He was cute as fuck.  Dimples.  Cute coy smile.  But my god, he just did not know how to treat my cock.  He thought it was a good idea to scrape his teeth across the shaft and then do the same thing to the head of my cock.  I nearly jumped off the seat.

"Sorry bud.  I'm just really sensitive.  Think I need a break."  I guess it's only fitting that it happened right after I tortured a guy's nips past what he wanted.

I nodded to my buds that were still on the couch as I made my way back to the bedroom.  They ended up camping there the whole night.

HollywoodBearBud was playing with ACBriefsGuy, but things seemed to have progressed.  He was mock fucking ACBriefsGuy and I positioned myself behind HollywoodBearBud so that my cock was poking at him on the backstroke.  Then I heard a sigh from ACBriefsGuy.  I could guess what happened.  His cock slipped in.  I played with HollywoodBearBud's nips the way I knew he liked them while he fucked the dude until the dude turns around and pulls off his cock suddenly.  He comes up to me and whispers, "I want you to fuck your bear bud."  Oh boy.  Directing again.  Not that I mind.  I bend HollywoodBearBud until he's supporting himself on his hands on the bed.  I suit up.  Lube up.  Then slowly insert.  I rushed it a bit.  This will be the fourth orafice my cock's been in that night and it just wanted to fuck.  Unfortunately, it was too much for my bud.  He pulled off.  Then ACBriefsGuy says, "I gotta try this" and gets on his hands and knees on the bed.  I fuck him.  A bit longer than HollywoodBearBud.  But I misjudged how much he could take.  I was fucking full strokes, hitting that second ring and he pulled off too.

And yup.  This all happened with well over dozen onlookers silently watched.  They didn't even try to get involved.

Well, save for one guy that waited until we were done and swallowed my cock in one shot.  Fuck he was good.  Really good.  But still.  I have this thing where oral alone doesn't do it for me.  Not that the guy didn't try.  He really wanted my load.

"Fuck you have a nice, big cock.  And I should know.  I used to recruit for studios.  You ever thought about doing porn?" he asks.  I just laughed it off.  I thought about making a joke about how I just started a new job and I didn't want to burn a bridge by changing career paths just after a week, but I stopped myself.  The dialogue was already hanging there in the room full of people that were just watching each other and just didn't feel right.  After a bit, I tell him I need a break and move away.

On my way out of the room, a scruffy-faced, tall and lean otter type stops me dead in my tracks.  He's extremely handsome.  And so I had his shoulder and whisper to him, "What's up with the shirt?"  Honestly, not my smoothest move but it was something I was wondering about.  There were way too many people that were dressed and among those that were down to their undies it just was a little odd.  It just sets a tone.

"Yeah, right?" he replies.  And I was just too intimidated to go any futher.  I mean, if he at least had his shirt off, I'd take it as a sign that he's at least willing to play.  But it was just too much work to fight through another barrier to see if we're compatible.

I move off and head to the door, but before I did, PornRecruiterGuy drops to his knees and starts to suck me again.  Right in the doorway.  People start to come in but were kinda blocked by us, among them HollywoodBearBud.  We gave each other a shrug and he says, "Yeah, probably not the best place."

"Yeah," I say and start to pull up my undies again.

"Well," PornRecruiterGuy says, "at least now you can say that you have a cock that literally blocks traffic."

I make my way back out and check on the buds that I came with, feeling kinda guilty that I neglected them a bit during the night.  And I walk into the porn room to see TheTwerker awkwardly glancing at GeekyCub next to him sitting down while ACBriefsGuy saddles up and impales himself on GeekyCub's cock.

I love GeekyCub's reaction.  His head immediately flings back and he grips ACBriefsGuy to hold still.  He's been edging all night and is about to explode.  ACBriefsGuy starts in on his orders, softly barking a command for GeekyCub to breed his ass and pretty soon is shooting his load all over GeekyCub right when he feels the first shot shoot up inside his guts.  It was a hot scene.  And as GeekyCub is recovering, ACBriefsGuy is already up and gives me a wink as he passes by.

And then I look over to TheTwerker and I'm pretty sure he's ready to leave.

On the car ride home, I find out that the host made out with TheTwerker while another guy sucked him a little.  I'm glad of that.  He deserves the attention.  And the host generally likes the atmosphere of sex but prefers a more personal one-on-one situation so they are a good match.  Just wish I was there to see him being the stud that he is.

TheTwerker assured me he had a good time even though he didn't partake in much of it.  He was glad for the experience.  But I wanted him to have a better one...  And when we got back to his place, I walked him in on the pretense of needing to piss and softly asked if he'd do me the honor of playing with me.  Soft touches.  Light kisses leading to fervent ones.  And several words of praise of him and his body, frequent reminders and validations of how fucking hot he is.

And then I fucked the cum out of him while his ass milked me of my load.

It was a good note to end on.  I mean, yes, I enjoy the variety.  I have to admit I kinda enjoy being a show-off.  But at the same time, I honor these moments where it's just two and I can feel a guy literally and figuratively, inside and out.  And TheTwerker deserved it.  He has a rather spotty past.  Very quiet and modest, but emotions all bottled.  And as I walk past the door that he had punched through in a drunken rage of doubt and frustration, I hope that he and I empathize on another level.  A night where we're faced with a bunch of doubt and glimmers of excess only to unleash and culminate in a frenzy of emotions that leaves us both spent.  But in a good way.

Wednesday, April 13, 2016


So, I made a new years resolution of sorts to not jerk off unless I'm playing with another guy.  And even though I failed on that front 11 times this year so far, I kinda wonder if I just substituted jerking off with lot of sex.

Why do I say that?  Well, let's review the stats of Q1 2016...

  • I've had sex 98 times this year.
    • 32 times with the hubby
    • 66 times outside the relationship
      • 38 times with new guys
      • 28 times with repeats
  • For the most part, the above consists of fucking ass.
  • Of the new guys/first contact, playtime consisted of
    • Anal Bottom - 2.63%
    • Anal Top - 60.53%
    • JO - 10.53%
    • Oral (Got Sucked) - 26.32%
  • If you broaden that to include repeat sessions, the stats are pretty similar except you get a few times where I was sucking or we flip flopped.
  • I tend to fuck around with white guys.  I can't tell if that's preference or just opportunity.  Of the new playmates:
    • Asian - 5.26%
    • Black - 2.63%
    • Latino - 28.95%
    • White - 63.16%
  • I tend to fuck bareback with repeats, but with new contacts I fuck bareback about 61% of the time
  • I favor playing with a new playmate (58% of the time)
  • What was a little surprising is that I don't really feel the need to cum.  I also don't like guys stroking me off.  Here's a breakdown of where I cum (first contact/new playmates):
    • Ass - 42.11%
    • I Jerked - 15.79%
    • Mouth - 10.53%
    • None - 31.58%
  • And here's a breakdown of where they cum (first contact/new playmates:
    • Ass - 1.52%
    • Handsfree - 4.55%
    • He Jerked - 28.79%
    • I Jerked - 39.39%
    • Mouth - 4.55%
    • None - 21.21%
Damn, I'm a nerd... And a slut

Monday, April 4, 2016


"You're a pornographer!"

That exclamation mark just doesn't do it justice. He said it with such vigor and excitement and... well, ironically a little bit of respect. This was over the phone with @misterclarkrogers of tumblr before we met a month ago. He suggested we chat before we meet just to get to know each other and feel it out to see if we're a good fit. You know, get over any of the awkwardness beforehand since we were planning on shacking up together for a couple of nights.

It was a good call - quelled any fears that I was making a mistake. And honestly, the only thing awkward was my relationship with the word "pornographer." He said it with such enthusiasm that I just wasn't sure if I could live up to the conceit that he held. It was something both artistically subversive and politically extravagant, an intentional ruffling of the status quo. No doubt about it, this blog is about pornography but I somehow feel that it's less about promoting a subculture than it is more about a teenager telling a dirty joke to a couple of chums while hidden underneath the bleachers all... and all that under the pretense of some sort of artistic aspirations.

That's where the awkwardness starts. I mean, I really hope I'm not falling into the trap of Trump. Just fucking saying shit that flies off the top of my head without any context of reality, saying things that are politically incorrect just to get a rise. Fuck Trump. Fuck him and the xenophobia that he promotes. I don't wanna even remotely emulate his tactics, so I don't wanna be the guy telling the dirty joke and having people hop on my bandwagon. But at the same time, the flipside to all that is me doing what I do for some sort of grandiose delusion of artistic expression which seems kinda cliched and irks me as well.

Not to say that porn-art isn't interesting. I just haven't responded to it well. For some reason, I get restless and... kinda bored. Like the movie Short Bus? Meh. And then I saw Bruce LaBruce's gay skinhead zombie fuck flick and I was also kinda meh. And even when you rewind and one of my friends who was always on the forefront of everything (he went into baking as an outlet of his artistic expression before all these celebrity bakers started popping up, was an unapologetic hairy cub in his late teens before the representation of such was popular in the media, etc) made an indie flick that toured the queer film festivals that explored pain play, I was preoccupied with me enthusiasm for my friend than with enjoying the film itself.

So on the drive into work today, I was contemplating what I would do as a true porn art project. I think what I came up with also stems from another conversation I had with @misterclarkrogers regarding aging and how to age gracefully. It'd basically be a short where two guys hook up. The bottom would be a furry that's into pup-play, a gaymer with tons of anime drawings on the wall and maybe some Pokemon stuff lying around. The visiting top would be an older guy that immediately judges the "kid" for his rather adolescent interests but then after play realizes that the bottom had all the control. It'd be a short playing with the conflicts in inter-generational play where each perspective is unique yet rich with insight.

Problem is, I suck at filming stuff. I can't frame anything right and the lighting is always wrong. Then I thought I could turn it into a social experiment where the script is open and strangers all film it with their own perspective and it's all edited into one linear story. And that'd be yet another way to articulate the idea of the beauty in sex. A community that hardly ever formally coalesces, but still at it's core the result of pairing individual rich perspectives in an intimate way.

So as I was driving, I was thinking about all this and fantasizing about it as I inched along the freeway. I them realized that these concepts are in itself my own little niche pornography. So I had to document it here.

Because I'm a pornographer.

Sunday, March 27, 2016

Picture after the words

I'm completely blown away by this experience still. Reading the account from another perspective was incredible, as were the things that stood out in his head that were little moments worthy of little written vignettes all on their own. And his memory was incredible. Completely spot on. Like the dialogue I wrote had some creative license. I remember the gist but no the exact phrases.

But yes, he seemed to capture some beautiful moments. Like my first words to him, both meant to be playful as much as an admonishment. Pinning him against the wall. Me calling him to me after I rolled over and was panting in post-cum afterglow. Little things that he picked up on that I thought would be lost in another's eyes but instead were so acutely tuned.

So as much as I love pictures, they seem to ache with failure in trying to live up to the memory. Even the video we made pales to what I know. But I hope they still articulate the thousand words that I can summon in the beauty that is him.

So here's a few pics. A couple were taken when he had his guard down. I snuck them hoping to capture how sexy he is without his sweet, self-deprecation getting in the way. And the other was when he had his guard down in another way. Equally as sexy. Hope you guys enjoy!


Saturday, March 26, 2016


I was anxious.  A bundle of nerves.  It was everything: excitement from the upcoming meet, the anticipation of a whole night of raw sexual energy, the dread of sitting on a plane for a couple hours beforehand, and the most pronounced source of the chaos of emotions was this overwhelming worry that I won't measure up.  I've met other readers of my blogs before and I've even met up with other bloggers, but this will be the first time I'd meet up with another blogger for the sole purpose to fuck.  And it happens all the time.  People build up an image in their head of what you're like based off of what they read from you, whether it's just a profile off an app or a whole series of blogs.  And there's that worry that reality will be mismatched to the fantasy that you've accidentally projected.

But all of that was behind me now.  Funny how as much as how I worried about not meeting expectations, I had no equivalent fears about him.  And I didn't need to.  He's exactly as I pictured him.  A matured scruff that neatly accentuates his masculine jawline.  An incongruent youthful vitality to his voice.  And a hole that makes me salivate.

I'm on top of him.  He's face down on the bed and I'm trying to cover every inch of him like a warm blanket.  Pressing my weight into him.  Snaking my arm around and underneath him, either tucking him in or squeezing the breath out of him like a boa constrictor.  I try to convey the sense of both comfort and oppressive control, that odd intersection where giving your body up to another is overwhelmingly intimately safe and rewarding.  And that's because he brings it out in me.  I want to just snatch him up and have him curl into a ball into me for protection.  But there's always that element of fear.  My raging cock is achingly throbbing into the nestled valley of his ass and with a slight change, the head of my cock hits it's target squarely on and insists for passage.  I sense his body alternate between the sigh of contented submission and the tense rejection of control so my body tries to settle him down.  And then I raked my scruff across his back trying to read a spot on his body that would distract him with a shudder but his body was inscrutable.  My insistent cock insists on relief and presses in, millimeter by millimeter.  His body starts to tremble with both need and resistance.

"My cock is going to tear into you," I whisper into his ear, letting my hot breath in close proximity add to the sensations I insist his body to react to.  "I'm going to rip it into you and fuck you so hard, you're going to feel it for days."

This elicits a moan from him.  And a whimper.

"Oh, god.  Please don't."  It was a breathless reply that coincided with his ass trying to buck back into me involuntarily.  He clears his throat and just stops all movement. "No, seriously.  Don't."

There was that worry.  A different type than the one that I had before we met, but my twisted mind latched on to that and played on it.

"No.  You don't get to decide that.  I do.  And I'm going to just plunge my cock into you all the way without warning.  Your ass will be aching for days.  Throbbing from my assault."  And before I could finish those low tones directly into his ears, my cock had glided into him achingly slow until it hit rock bottom.

But he was still a bundle of nerves.  Drenched in desire and that worry, so much so that it took him a second to realize that I was all the way in.  I shifted to get in deeper still and made my cock throb.  And with that.  The worry went away.  The worry again came from that precarious place between fantasy and reality and in that instant when I was fully deep inside him, the two sides merged into one and it was real.  And reality was so much better.

Saturday, March 19, 2016


This is guy #4 noted here


Some more of me and the fuzzy cub... I want to check in on him. And I kinda don't too.

Friday, March 18, 2016

Hot for teacher

I just gotta say, I'd be so much more interested in the sciences if I had him for a teacher. Incredibly sweet guy. I kinda can't picture him being a disciplinarian. But maybe that's because I mainly picture him trying to hold back his load while riding my cock...

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Tag teaming

It's been awhile since the DirtyDaddy and I have tag-teamed this guy's ass. This guy called us crazy, once, just because we wrecked his hole and DP'd him. What's so crazy about that? Ha!

Monday, March 14, 2016

Stop, look

"No, look at me," I calmly commanded. He was squirming. And his hand was grasping my thigh as to stop me from entering inside him. He's on his back with his legs in the air and my cock is already a third of the way into him using nothing but his deep throat spittle as lube.

His rapid shallow breaths stopped as he obeyed and looked into my eyes. He was worried about not being totally cleaned out. He was worried about the pain. He was worried about a dozen other things that was floating in his mind that was on the tip of his tongue but was left unsaid. But when he looked into my eyes, we were connected again. We weren't fucking. We weren't hooking up. We weren't doing any of all those physical things. No, we were connecting. And when we connected, that deep inner need to give himself to me won out. The shallow breaths had stopped and when we were connected again, eye to eye, mind to mind, it all came out in a sigh.

And his body devoured my inches inside him.

We met on grinder just a half hour before. He lived less than a mile from my hotel and we were both direct on our intentions. Within ten minutes, I was out the door on the way to his place. And when I got there, he already had porn queued up. Half naked and shirt-cocking, he pointed to the bed and said, "You can sit there [for the blowjob]." It was all mechanical and rote. But when I saw him and how beautiful he was in the flesh, I pushed all we talked about aside. He was gonna give me more than just a blowjob. I ignored his comment and came up to him and kissed him. And that's when I knew how perfectly right he was for what I had in mind. His soft full lips met mine with such sweetness to balance the urgency of my actions. He made soft moans the minute we started making out. And when I pulled him into a tight embrace, he let out this low moan of a sigh that said everything that I needed to hear. He didn't need a routine blow and go. He needed someone to lead him and show him what he needs.

After long moments of making out and fumbling out of clothes, I practically threw him on his bed, derisively laughing at the spot he expected me to occupy on his bed for a more blow job. And when he landed, his legs naturally rose to accept me. My cock hit squarely on its target when I flopped onto him to resume the kisses.



"I want..."

I put him out of his misery and pulled back a little as if to grant him permission to speak.

"I want to suck you so bad, though..."

"In due time," I responded and continued to tease his hole with my cock as I devoured his face, neck, and lips.

When it was time, I hopped off the bed and stood by the side. His face turned towards me and his mouth started to oval before I plunged my cock in with one swoop straight to the back of his throat. He choked a bit. Gagged when I hit the back of this throat. And his chest heaved in protest of the violation even on the way out. But despite that, the kid was talented. Not once did his gagging interfere with the blow job. Just sweet luscious wetness all the way through down to the back of his throat no matter how hard he struggled. No teeth. No uncomfortable constriction of the throat.

"Fuck yeah. You like that? Like taking daddy's dick down to the root. No matter how much you choke, your mind wants more, huh? That's the mark of a true cocksucker. That's what you are, huh? Another eager cocksucker. Feast on my big fucking dick."

The poor guy couldn't even mumble assent.

I ripped the cock out of his mouth and his face was a mess of tears and that spit lube that was coating everything. Long strands of it on my cock. A strand of bubbly spittle sliding down a trail from the corner of his mouth. A simple, small smack on the side of the face and then a wipe to pick up spit before applying it to his hole.

"You're a fucking mess, kid."

He smiled at that. But the smile quickly faded when my spit lubed cock met the hole I just recently lubed with the remnants of the sloppy blowjob. He started to panic. And I could see all those thoughts whirling in his head before I commanded him to look at me. That command was all the difference. And what he saw when his eyes met mine was an understanding. An understanding of what he really needed. An understanding of what he really wanted. And it was that recognition that made his body yield in trust to my direction. It was in magnanimous servitude that once he let me in, I savagely attacked his hole and fucked a load out of him and flooded his ass with my own cum... That was his desire. And it perfectly matched mine.

Sunday, March 13, 2016

Synergy, sold

I have to admit that there was a time when I felt robbed when an up and coming music group would break out with a hit. For some reason I felt like I could lay claim to the band that struck a chord within me and felt robbed when others would climb on the bandwagon and say the same thing. It's funny because my personal relationship with their music didn't change. It's just that other people recognized the power of it and record labels would pay for it. Sellouts, I'd cry. It's that weird relationship with money and popularity in post-modernism. When art is commoditized, you wonder if the art was somehow modified to better appeal to the masses or if the masses are responding to it's resolutely unique authenticity.

And I felt that same question pop up in my head with my time with ClarkRogers ( ). Is what I'm feeling authentic? Or is it a construct pulling from ideas and cliches that appeal to the masses? When I remarked on how acutely aware of the presence he's built with his body, he's even mentioned it as his life's work. But his art isn't just his body. It's his interactions. Speech patterns that build upon the synergy between to people into an avalanche of collaborative joy. I can't express how envigorating it was just being with him, sexy time or not. And that's the beauty of it. Whether it was feigned or constructed, whether or not he modified the mold or not, it doesn't matter. That energy that he pulled out of me, my own personal reaction to him, that's still real. Two complementary shapes are still beautiful together, regardless of the labor or the lack thereof to get them to mesh.

Whatever. I'm sold. And that's not a bad thing at all.

Saturday, March 12, 2016


The excited tones of conversation started to settle, ebbed away like the traffic below in the late night.  We're both naked.  And I pause for a second.  Just enough to catch a glimpse of something beautiful that makes my head spin.

Technically, this is my second time trying out an escort.  After reading LP's blog depicting his experience from one side and then Not Alone'sexperience on the client end, I was kinda curious.  I just suddenly realized the door was open to have that experience.  It was always open, actually.  I just didn't understand what my reason would be to walk through.  What I wanted was to challenge myself and experience something I normally wouldn't have.

So he's lying on his back.  I'm hovering over him.  Physically, I'm as turned on as I was when I first encountered his blog full of ideas and pictures.  He's even more handsome in person.  He's transformed his look a few times as you scroll through his past entries and he's settled now on a pronounced mo' against neatly trimmed scruff.  And if pictures are worth a thousand words, then it needs a new dictionary as his reality defies the articulation of imagery.  I'm surprised he's seventy pounds heavier than me, but as my hands roam across his body it understands how he's assembled that weight into compact, dense fibers of strong masculinity.  He's fuckin' lean as shit.  Just two hundred pounds of raw power.

And perhaps that why the look he gave me confounds me.  Face relaxed.  Brows furrowed in upturned questions.  It's a look that I can only read as extremely urgent and aggressive empathetic.  It's a stunning duality.  I can sense him trying to read me and give me everything I want.  It's almost as if he's trying to grant me permission to let go.  There's just such a strength in his will to give that's achingly beautiful.  Even a week after we first met, I vividly reflect on how he smells, how his lats felt under my fingers as they travelled down to his trim waist, and above all that... a look of pure compassion.

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Pool boy

He's a pool boy. I'm not making it up!
What I remember most about this guy is how his long, lanky limbs would stretch for days. And the way they'd wrap around my back and pull me into him for a deeper fuck.

Bomb head

I never know what to make of the stories that guys tell me when I meet up with them for the first time. This guy definitely had the frat-bro attitude and was supposedly married, but he was staying at a buddy's house and he and his wife were apart for some complicated reason. Does that sorta thing really happen? Or is he just heavily closeted and feels like he has to make things up to protect his identity/image? Or is it some elaborate macho postering to compensate for the fact that he loves to suck dick?

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

"Fat" ass - lubed for another

I met him on Grindr... Good looking guy. A little stocky. There was a bit of a back and forth. First he was going to come over and then he wasn't. I finally got him to my room and hammered a load into him. Snapped a pic and he kinda rolled his eyes at it remarking on how fat his ass looked. Didn't matter to me. It felt great wrapped around my cock.

I found out later that the hesitation was because he had another hookup lined up but the guy disappeared. So he swung by, got loaded up, and then the original guy he wanted to hook up with came back online.

Apparently I ended up being used as the appetizer round, lubing up the guy's ass for the main conquest. And I'm okay with that. Mostly because he gave me all the juicy details of it after. Funny how much a guy talks after I break down that wall, that wall where guys think they have to pretend they're coy, chaste and inexperienced.

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Flight crew

I can't tell if I'm just projecting but it appears that guys that travel a lot for work tend to be more open to a hookup. Maybe it's just the new meat thing where you land somewhere and there's just all this new stimuli and you just want to go for it. Maybe it is the fact that moving around a lot, you tend not to grow roots too deep so casual, fleeting moments with new people is the norm.

Either way, I met this handsome guy at an airport hotel nearby while I was also out of town for work and I don't remember the sex itself but instead remember the laughter and the "holy shit, that was good" feeling after while we were a complete mess of fluids entangled in each other's limbs. And that harmony of thought and attitude towards situations like these. A common understanding though unspoken so congruent you just have to laugh, as absurd as that sounds.

Sunday, February 28, 2016


I typed it out on my phone and mentally kicked myself. I was complimenting a guy and totally exaggerated my thoughts to comic proportions. It came off as a line, cheesier than a French crémerie. It's hard. It's hard to accept a compliment. Hard to not devalue a person's perception of you, hard not to stomp on a person's risk at laying their feelings out there for you by deflecting it with words of self-deprecation. Two words come so hard right after a compliment: thank you. And I'm starting to see that I also have a tough time giving one without curbing some of that risk of self-exposure with some comic relief that woefully undermines the true intent. Hence, the lazy and cheesy line. It's almost as if the beauty of a compliment is that it happens at all with all the forces working against it from both sides. So I'm forcing myself to cherish it. Cherish that feeling that compels me to give one and honor that feeling when one is moved enough to verbalized that feeling towards me.

Thursday, February 25, 2016


Funny how things themes kinda pop out at you all of a sudden as if by coincidence. Couple days in a row now where I've met guys that used the Clinton definition of sex.

First it was this incredibly cute otter kid. Just turned 22 and still has a very boyishly twink body. He had me over his place. Actually, I should correct that by saying his parents' place. And he kinda freaked out when I came up his doorstep when a truck went by with what might have been his dad, to which he's not out to. Oiy. Anyway, after a long hour of making out and blow jobs back and forth he looks at me and asks if I brought condoms the jumps off me to ransack his brother's room for one. Apparently he surprised himself by asking as he doesn't usually have sex with guys he's barely met. That struck me as completely odd. I mean, I'm pretty sure your dad would say that me sticking my dick in your mouth is sex.

Then a married guy texts me the next day. Earlier in the week, I took his anal cherry and he shot like crazy so he took the plunge and is addicted. I fucked another load out of him today after trying several positions. Turns out he's just "meh" about sucking cock, love missionary, riding me is a good second and doggie he can do without. Weird cause I really forced him to make out with me even though he didn't want to and I'd think doggie would be the least distracting since he's not staring at my mug while I'm prodding his prostate wth my cock. Anyway, afterwards he tells me that he thinks he's just into the sex. I wasn't sure what he meant but he was saying he didn't like oral too much and doesn't find guys all that much of a turn on. In other words, he just wants cock up his chute and I'm being used as a living dildo. Not that I mind. I'm actually kinda hoping he talks to his wife and let's me join them. I definitely don't mind being used as a sexual prop.

But I came to realize this. For some reason, these guys find it easier to say "sex" when they really mean "fucking", i.e. "I don't usually fuck on the first meet" and "I'm not into oral, I just really like getting fucked" 'cause come on. Putting my knob down your throat is still sex! Kinda like a rated R sentiment toned down for PG-13 sensibilities. Both guys are kinda young in their own way - one in age another in his sexual experience. Just wonder when the word "fuck" is gonna roll off their tongue carefree like me, the dirty whore that I am.

Wednesday, February 24, 2016


He's appeared in these pages a number of times, usually with a third in the picture as we're both tops. And I'm always jealous of how his pics always shows off the best of him and how quintessentially bearish he is.

Tuesday, February 23, 2016


So I'm struggling on whether to publish this one partially because it involves someone that may or may not stumble across this entry.  Actually, it involves a couple of people.  Nothing bad.  All good on their part.  Just not sure what it means about me and whether or not I can get at the root of what I'm feeling without tainting it in a favorable light under the lens of a perceived potential reader.

A couple of flashbacks:

First was an attempt well over a decade ago to make some new platonic friends that would help me explore the music scene that was flourishing in Silverlake (I think technically it's Silver Lake, but everyone says it like one word and it just fits into my mind as one word).  Spaceland (which is now The Satellite) was within walking distance of my house.  Pretty sure this was right before FYF started in Echo Park.  Anyway, I met a guy on that worked at Amoeba Records and it was cool.  Just a slight hint of sexual tension to keep things interesting and just generally a nice guy.  So we decided to hit up Spaceland together when some electroclash band was playing (I forget which) and he see's a guy at the bar that he knows and introduces me.

"This is Bruce.  He has a 'straight job'." And they proceeded to make scrunchy faces at each other like I just farted.  And he didn't mean straight job as in rough trade.  No.  I'm a nine to fiver.  Corporate.  One of "those people",

Second was something I already wrote about. Where I was in a glaring contest between a trick's roommate because my dress slacks and button-front shirt offended his sensibilities.  

Then there was this time I was complimenting another blogger on his pic and he mentioned his fashion-driven boyfriend says the shirt he was wearing in the pic was kinda douchy.  Yeah...  I guess.  But then I thought about it and checked my closet and was like, "Holy fuck!  I'm a yuppie!  When did that happen?!"  Yeah, there were the occasional fun things in there like suspenders and a Bert and Ernie shirt but it was pretty monochromatic and dull in there.

So finally, when I was talking to this other fellow blogger on the phone, he asked what I did.  I told him and his response: "Wow, I don't think I could ever do that." 

I immediately felt myself become a little defensive.  Partially because I admire this guy.  He has strikingly complex views and is following a path that compliments those views to surprising results, including a profession that's both unconventional yet not wholly uncommon.  Or perhaps his attitude transforms the work.  The other part that made me defensive is this constant struggle to suggest that conventional professions do not equate to conventional thoughts.  I got lazy and put his comment into a pattern that I found myself in over and over, this fight to put forth that empathy and beauty comes from everywhere, from the center and the fringes.  I love Allen Ginsberg but I also love Wallace Stevens.  Beatniks and the corporate execs.

Of course, this wasn't what the blogger was implying at all.  He was merely saying that he couldn't see himself doing what I do.  There wasn't any judgement other than the self-evaluation of success within a different framework.  But it nagged me just a little for a split second, because it plays with an unresolved issue in my mind: this post-modern struggle from the collapse of the commercial to the artistic.  Do I do what I do because it's what I do best?  Or is what I do guided by the market?  And that authenticity is just impossible to see through all the patterns that shroud it.

And if you're wondering what he does, he's an escort.  And after reading my blog, he called me a "pornographer" with such positive musical tones I kinda wanted him to say "brussel sprouts" to see if it makes them more palatable.