Flashback: Alt cub multi-cummer... and music

This was ten years ago.  I could remember a bunch of things about him, but what I remember the most was how we geeked out about DJ Shadow in his room.  It was kinda awkward for me.  I had just come from work and was in some dress slacks and a button-front shirt.  I even had my retractable ID badge clipped to my pants still, forgetting to leave it in the car.  And I had met his roommate and the roommate's girlfriend.  That's where the awkwardness began.  Just after a few moments, I could tell the roommie and I were at odds.  My attire stirred some ire in him as it echoed the oppressive corporate culture to a visually cacophonous level and his whole bohemian elitism was getting on my last nerves.  Artist loft in downtown, but not the downtown Brewery, but a different building.  Stone's throw away from skid row and it wasn't really even a loft, but more like a corner of a parking garage that a slum lord decided to pipe plumbing in.  And I was totally fuckin' cool with it until I saw the look of disdain on this roommate guy.  So as he judged me, I judged him and I basically pegged him as one of those privileged kids that thought poor is cool.  Pulp song totally running through my head.  Whatever.  Been there, done that.  My parents are refugees that had nothing and ya know, I'd rather eat.

So when the cub and I awkwardly excused ourselves to his bedroom, I was trying to find a way to recover and we somehow landed on DJ Shadow, building back up the rapport we had online.  I'm not even sure where we met.  Adam4adam?  CL?  Not sure, but it was a number of exchanges before our schedules worked out and we could meet.  This was more than ten years ago, but I was still partnered and downtown was on my way home.

And all that back and forth and the numerous pic exchanges, sexual impulses could only be delayed for so long.  Right in the middle of geeking out, I attacked the poor kid.  Young cub type.  Fuzzy faced before it became all the rage.  And I pounced, stripping him of his elastic waist, thin athletic shorts only to reveal loose-fitting knit boxers underneath.  And a scar.  Or blemish.  Or something.

"I just decided it would be cool to brand myself.  Hot iron in the form of a question mark."

And as much as I wanted to inquire further, I knew I shouldn't.  He folded into himself slightly for the first time that night.  I don't think this branding thing was entirely his idea.  I picture his roommate somehow being involved.  I'm thinking like Ginsberg and Kerouac type of deal.  Some unrequited sexual overtones and pushing oneself to the extremes of the human experience.

I treaded lightly.

Lips locked and my fingers slowly outlined the question mark on his thigh, tappnig it one final time in perplexity.  Up to his balls.  Slight tickle.  And then to his hard cock.  As the last of my fingers curled around it's length, he shot his load.  A stroke of heat landing on my wrist, branding me temporarily.

"I'm so sorry.  It happens all the time"

"Nah, it's all good.  But you''re so fucking hard still."

"Yeah, it won't go down.  Please don't stop."

And I didn't.

His second load was shot while I was fucking my cock down his throat.  The third after I nuzzled his cock and slicked it up with my spit.  The fourth was perfectly timed to the same moment that I spurted my load into his mouth.  Or perhaps it was my load that made him crest for the fourth and final time.

A man in tune with desire and able to feel the extremes of sexual experience over and over again.

Fuck!

And unfortunately, that was the last time I ever got to feel him use his talents to spew load after load in a single session.  We never got to play again, but I'd get random invites to his weekly parties.  They became kinda legendary house parties showing off the local musical talent.  And everytime I hear DJ Shadow or when LCD Soundsystem exclaiming that Daft punk is playing at their house, I think of that kid living life to the fullest... with his judgemental, elitist roommie.

A little fuzzy but fine

On the surface, things were perfect.  I was face down, trying to let go and let someone else do all the work, getting a massage.  Lights low.  Music softly playing in the background.  A tall, fuzzy otter with a perfectly trimmed beard on top of me exploring with his hands.  But that's on the surface.  There wasn't a hint of any kind of lubricating ointment in close proximity and his untrained hands were stretching and snagging on my skin in forceful pinches that made me anything but relaxed.  Involuntary spasms as the shoulder tensed and then the back, all unheeded until I grunted and said, "It's been awhile since I last got a massage so you'll have to go easy on me."

Softer tugs on my back.  A little better.  Working lower and lower until he got to my ass.  He cradled those globes for just a second before he lost all restraint and started kneading them like tough dough that needed to feed a hungry army.  Oh, boy.  Another top, I take it.  Fuck, those pinches are gonna leave bruises. 

And before I could say anything, it kinda snapped into my head how weird it was. this whole notion of top and bottom and their association with doms and subs.  I never really understood why an oral top was the one getting his dick sucked while it's the bottom that was doing all the work, while fuck-wise it's the top that does the heavy lifting.  Getting sucked can be and usually is (at least for me) the more passive experience but is considered the dominant role.  And then here I am laying submissive and prone but in my head I'm the dom because the kid is servicing me.  Ha!

It wasn't quite working.

I flipped over onto my back and there he was, hovering with arms on either side of me supporting the bulk of his weight and these heavy lustful eyes staring right into me.

I pushed his locked elbow out and his whole 6'3" 200 pound frame crashed into me before I took one hand to the back of his head and the other taking his scruffy jaw and pulled him into a kiss where I devoured him.

As my arms pulled him into a tight embrace, I let go in a different way.  Instead of just trying to let go and feel him work my body, I let myself settle into some other base instincts.  Despite all the pinching, the kid was hot and I wanted him.

He wrestled out of my embrace after a bit and, ironically with one leg wrapped behind him and him still hovering over me missionary style, says with some disappointment, "You're a top."

It wasn't a question, but I verbally assented anyway.

Quick pause.

"Well, I have always been curious..."

He didn't need to finish the sentence.  I already knew.  His body already gave me permission to squiggle his former boundaries.  My body had already asked.  His had promptly replied.

In the end, I fucked half my inches into him.  Short strokes that felt every time his body tensed up and every time it welcomed me in.  Even while wrapped.  Smart strokes enough to make him feel good and to fuck the cum out of him.  Ending the night with my fingers tracing the lines of his cum on his body and then my palm feeling the contours of his body, feeling every hair follicle that caught the cum, snagging the viscous emissions as my hands roamed in ways different than his hands snagged on my body, and bringing the night back full circle back to the beginnings.  Roles reversed.  And despite playing the active, dominant role in the climax, I couldn't help but sense that I was only doing my best to serve him and his needs.  

Housekeeping: Redundancy and the whole Blogger issue

So as many of you know, I was debating on whether to switch to Tumblr after Blogger was going to mark blogs with explicit images as private.  Blogger has since backtracked on the issue and, finally, after a bunch of rumors on the forums and such has officially released an email confirming their stance.

I'm not gonna be too harsh on Google.  I mean, the service is free and they do incur quite a bit of cost and liability with copyright and child porn laws and such.  It still sucked, though, and seemed to go against their work in trying to build a community that favors their ecosystem, but whatevers.  And I've read up on it a bit and tumblr has gotten some pressure to regulate adult content a few years ago and flip flopped on the topic.  Not the flip flopping I like.

Bottom line is this: I'm dual posting.  I deleted my old tumblr account, imported all my blogger post into my new tumblr using a tool/app I found and then hooked the tumblr account to twitter.  So you guys should be able to reach me somehow...  And in case anyone is interested, I'm simplifying the dual-posting my using the "email to blog" feature on both blogger and tumblr.  I'll just be drafting my posts in email and then hitting the send button when I'm done and it goes to blogger, tumblr and twitter all roughly at the same time.  I'll be checking comments and such on each app separately though.  And eventually I'll get my lazy ass to find a good tool to gather content from all the different sites so that I can get a feed going without going to too many different places.

A couple of things: I was going to tag all my content, but decided to hell with that.  Couldn't think of a way to keep all that in sync.  And then my imported tumblr posts sometimes have links that point back back to blogger, but that's fine for now.

Now I'm hoping the hubub in activity will lead to some new followers that wouldn't mind an appearance on my blog.  Ha!

Cheers!

The passive top(?)

We first met on a whim. I was on a business trip and he answered my ad, which was pretty vague about what I was looking for but forthright about being honest and being immediately available and ready to play. He answered with the proposition to get together and jerk off together. Why not? It'd be kinda hot to quickly get his load all over my cock and let it dry there before I stuffed it in some other guy's throat to rehydrate the natural lube and then fuck my own load into the next hole after that. At least that's what ran through my head.

6'3", lightly fuzzy with some scruff that was out of place on his angular face and pale eyes that made him look supernatural. Shy but at the same time at ease with himself in a way that didn't make me doubt the claims that he has a live-in girlfriend and was just looking to play on his way home. It was odd. After our first meet, I was pretty much okay not playing for the rest of the night and turning in. Every subsequent visit to his city, we played and it was kinda the same way.

First time, I jerked him off and surprised him when I worked a finger up inside him with relative ease, pressing on his prostate as he shot his load in a spectacular finish. Second time, he blasted in my mouth as I worked his hole. Third time, he gave up trying to resist my attempts to kiss him and we both shot all over each other making out. Fourth time was just the other night and without realizing it, I had popped his cherry. He didn't tell me until after he showered and was stuffing his engorged cock back into his boxers. He outsizes me by at least an inch and instead of just putting on his jeans, he used the waistband of his boxers to keep his cock pressed up against his tummy. Yeah. He's big enough to show his hardon by an inch or two above the waistband of even his jeans. I was trying to figure it out. He told me he loves being serviced, that he's always been the top, but he's always been a really passive guy. When I asked him if me popping his cherry felt good, he responded with a "It was different... It didn't hurt..." He didn't go as far as announcing that he liked it, though. So I couldn't get it out of my head and contacted him the next day. To let him recover his masculinity a bit, I lured him with the promise of giving up my ass to him. And I did. Partly to see how he acts as full-on top.

Thank god he doesn't pound his meat all the way home. I think that'd knock something loose. But even then, I had to initiate things a bit. And he definitely didn't cum as easily as me working his hole.

So what did I do? Well, my last morning in town, I invited him to play before work. It was different this time. The rapport was there. And after some easy small-talk, we snapped together like two puzzle pieces. Lips locked and frolicking on the bed. No more walls. Just two guys going at it passionately.

I ended up throwing his legs over my shoulder and fucking a load out of him. And he shot hard. Not much volume. He never does. But a blast that even he was surprised at. Work was starting to weigh in on our minds, but we still just flopped there on the bed for a moment. And I knew this: he might be a top with most guys, he's probably a pretty passive top for most guys that are enamored by his size. But with me, he's totally fine with my meat fucking a load out of him. And that's fine by me.

Next time, I'm going hardcore and fucking my load into him.

And while browsing CL

I find that a fuck buddy posted an ad with a pic of us playing... Hope it scored him some more tops!

Snapshot: Rings

My fingers always tends to dance across the underside of an arm. Especially with someone that doesn't bottom often. A way of making him feel more than just my cock insistent about breaking through his ass and fully plant itself inside him. Fourth time with him and things aren't all too different. He's tight as hell. My aim is true and the head of my cock is pressing squarely against his ring. And I'm playing with the fuzz that covers every square inch of him. My fingers glide up the underside of his arms with a touch that teeters between the sensual and the ticklish, intimately knocking on the door of involuntary spasms and resistance.

It's when I get to the wrist that the five dancers skip and twirl against his palm to intertwine themselves with his fingers and I feel him respond. His fingers battle with mine for a second before his thumb and forefinger find my ring finger and starts rotating the band that encompasses it. Quarter rotations before his fingers reposition and rotate the ring again. And he sighs. He sighs and I feel his own ring flower open and my cock slip faults to a glide that ends when my pubes brush against his fuzzy ass. And his eyes flutter open at the fullness of it all.

I don't know what it is. He's proud of the "low miles" of his experience with men, so I can't tell if the ring is just a revered talisman of commitment (which, given the situation would be highly ironic) or if he's fetishized adultery and the thrill of getting away with it, a partner in "crime", is what turns him on. Or maybe he just needs something to justify my raw cock being buried in his ass. He always talks of condoms but the latex barrier is as foreign to our relations as a Martian diplomat would be to the UN.

I know I will outlast him, despite the fact that my cock is tucked in cozy and tighter than a kid with smothering parents at bedtime. Either way, I want to control when he cums. And I take control of his cock. Sheathing it with my fingers or abandoning it to pulse fervently in the air with need, whatever I decide for the moment.

A few pumps in and just the warmth of my hand is enough to make him blast so hard he shoots himself in the eye. The second and third shots after I re-aim hit the wall behind his head with authority.

He looks at me sheepishly with fingers still clutching the wedding band around my ring finger and his own ass ring pulsing and throbbing around the thickest of my digits. The longest of them. Still buried deep inside him.

Bad Timing

So gotta explain one thing: the name of this blog is actually a reflection of my experience of bumping into a helluva lot of tops out there there are partnered or married or somehow attached.  And it's largely kinda ignored the fact that I have a partner out there and that some of you are keen on the shenanigans of guys like me covering up my tracks (in often woefully inartistic and underwhelming ways).  

But damn if a dick and the addiction of trying to plug it in new conquests doesn't make you do the stupidest things.

I was chatting up a kid on Grindr.  Kid might be actually kinda appropriate here.  Turns out I'm edging closer to that age where younger guys start liking you the same way I lusted after daddy-types in my teens (and okay, okay I still do).  He was home for the holidays and we couldn't quite find a good time to meet up, though.  He couldn't host.  Neither could I.  That is, until his last day in town and my partner decided to go out and run some errands.

Flurry of texts and he hops in the shower and packs up his car for the long drive back to some university.  I'm the quick pitstop before his journey home.  The fill up station dispensing liquid warmth, shot straight to his core.  And a little bit of adrenaline to keep him going.

He arrives at the door.  Blond unkempt curls and the short scraggly scruff of indifference befitting a boy of studies having just finished finals a week prior.  He barely got out of his car when my partner texts me to tell me he's getting drive-thru and will be home momentarily.

Dammit!

I let the kid in and get a half-sentence explanation in about the time constraint before I cave in and pull him to me.  One mild, sweet kiss of soft full lips before the jaws unhinge and restraint snaps.  The fury of pent-up sexual delays, coquettish flirtations of future promise breaks the levee in a wave of now.  I want now.  I need now.  And that soft round ass so pliable in my hands.  The moment that moist flickering tongue dueled with my own, foretelling of talents that would drive me wild I knew I needed to mash myself into him.  Throat, ass...  my dick instantly hardened and wanted to sample it all.

We were barely over the threshold, just inside the door when I pushed him onto his knees.  A blowjob that turned into a skull fuck.  His back to the wall, unable to escape the onslaught.  I pulled him up and bent down to take him to the root, swallowing him to the root in one swift and ungraceful swoop.  And as my throat massaged the mushroom head deep in the back of my throat, my nose caught of whiff of his scent that was left behind, intrinsically his and unable to be masked by the soap and clinically scrubbed from the quick rinse before he had headed over.  My nose just started nuzzling, mouth full, unable to get enough until my insistent cock made me pull back for more attention.

Three laps in and he asks, "So how far away is he?"

"Five miles."

He started to wisely note that wasn't far away when I grabbed his ears and thrust myself down his throat one more time.

Fuck.  He's right.

Reluctantly, I let go.  He peeled himself away.  He had to.  My hands start to clutch at him again.  With a single lingering glance back, he let himself out and slipped through the door.

Moments after he pulled away, my partner drives up carrying an incomprehensible number of paper bags of gluttonous sustenance.  And as I welcomed him home with a kiss, I could still smell the kid's scent reflecting back on my face.

Yeah, I'm pretty fucked up.

Snapshot: It's odd

He ran his fingers over his his neck.  Lightly.  Then a little harder.  A slight massage or perhaps him trying to shake the feeling of my fingers around his neck, the feeling of digits digging into his jugular.  Grasping at the palm that was over his adam's apple but is no longer there.  Phantoms from a few minutes ago haunting him.

He wasn't in any danger.  I knew when my hands were blocking his windpipe and when they weren't.

"Why do I let you do things like that to me?" he asks, working his head back onto the bed.  Cheeks a little ruddy from where I slapped him a couple times.  

I was still hovering over him.  His legs were growing heavier and heavier over my shoulders as I was catching my breath after busting my nut deep inside his ass.  So I grabbed one leg and tossed if off me so that I could crash back onto his bed.

"I don't know.  Why do you?"

No big dom, top guy bravado.  Just an honest question.  He wasn't expecting it.  Unconsciously, he was prompting me for more degrading obscenities that flew out of my mouth while I was pounding my raw meat into him.  You know, something profane and misogynistic along the lines of "Because you're a sloppy-ass cunt whore begging and craving the seed of the man you'll never be but settling for getting knocked up by me and the MEN I pimp you out to"... or some shit like that.

I didn't let him off the hook.  Slightly uncomfortable pregnant pause before he started to reach for his tank top.  He was feeling exposed.

"I guess I just think you're really hot.  Just look at you."  I wasn't quite satisfied with the answer (though I liked how he stroked my ego and it made me smile and swell up with pride a bit), but I didn't say anything.  I didn't contradict him, even though I'm really just an average joe.  I'm breathtakingly mediocre, but I remained silent.  Just soaked up the smell of sex in the room.  Cum.  Ass.  Man-stink.  

And as odd as he found how much he got off on giving himself over to me on unexpectedly levels, I wondered if he'd find it just as odd that I feel far more comfortable fucking a load out of him while gently memorizing his body with soft caresses.  Gently.  I'm more at home expressing tenderness and really, I was just focused on his needs.  They just led me down a different, rougher path.

Funny how things work out.