Tip

After hammering it into a guy, sometimes it's nice to just work the tip in...

Guiding hand

I kinda like a gentle guiding hand when I'm sucking...

Throbbing

Don't you love it when you're so hard that your cock visibly throbs?

Vacation!

So I’m gonna be out on a much needed vacation.  Between my last work trip and this new trip, I had little time to write, but I did get a chance to play with this new app I downloaded that makes animated gifs.  You’ll see what I’m talking about in the next few days.  I’ve queued up a few posts for ya.

Eyes closed

I'm with the enigma this time.  His legs over my shoulders, folding him in half onto himself.  Sounds familiar, right?  But this time, with this guy, his eyes are tightly closed.  They dance behind the curtain of his eye lids.  Rapid movement as if he's sleeping.  Scanning the horizon, searching.  Seeking.

I'm still amazed though.  Just moments before, I was on my knees between his legs, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed while he laid flat on his back.  My tongue was working his cock as I used suction to tease the head of his cock in the back of my throat, sucking it in and out of the tight opening.  And as I looked up, I saw a forest of dense fuzz give way to two mountains formed by his chest.  And it was just that moment where I felt his cock stiffen and his hands fly up to my head.  He was dangerously close to the edge and I didn't back off in time.  I just went for it and felt his cock recoil and launch his load into my mouth.

At that point, I wasn't sure if he'd be up for it, but I still wanted to fuck him.  So I kept his load in my mouth and worked it into his hole.  Using just his own load as lube, I fucked my inches into him.  And that's where we're at now.  His legs over my shoulders, his eyes tightly shut, and me sawing my cock in and out.  Though he doesn't look at me, his body responds.  Changes in tempo elicit moans.  A fierce plunge in makes his cock swell, even after being completely spent just moments before.  Teasing his hole with the head of my cock makes him go hard and soft in my hands.  I let go, though, and let my hands explore his fuzz.  God, I love his fuzz.  And even though he can't see, I make him feel it.  Feel all my desire and lust concentrated onto my groin as it pistons into him and my nuts boil over to shoot pure liquid need into his body.  After that, I hope he sees whatever he scans for behind those lids.

Eyes open

I'm with the twerker again.  Legs over my shoulders, folding him in half onto himself.  He's supporting the majority of both our weight on his shoulders.  His eyebrows are furrowed in the classic look of disbelief.  Bewilderment.  Incomprehension.  And we are connected.  My hard shaft fully immersed inside him while my groin fights to push in deeper.  It pulses.  My cock pulses and for a moment gets bigger and more rigid, fighting for that quarter turn of a screw to lodge itself deeper inside him.  And his eyes respond.  Eyes widen, brows furrow deeper still.  Soft gasp that leads into a deep moan when my cock recedes by that microfraction at the end of a twitch.

But it's me that should be astonished.  He milked my first load out of me within the first five minutes.  His talented hole pushing me past the point of no return before I even realized what was happening.  But when he started to move off, I firmly kept him in place.  My cock insisted on it.  The damn thing would not go down.  It demanded further attention.  An hour and several positions later I'm staring into his eyes just as intently as he stares into mine.

My hips move in a gentle wave.  His hole is incredibly wet.  I can smell my load from way before.  I can feel it combine with his own juices to make my fuck glide a gently as a paper plane cutting through the air.  And those eyes.  Those expressive eyes make me pause.  I pull almost all the way out and just as I feel his hole about to tighten and force me out, I push all the way back in.  His eyes widen again and his mouth hangs open, just relishing the things I'm making him feel.  And his eyes say it all.  Unflinching in open desire, need, and lust.  He lets it all out there in his vulnerable eyes and I'm bathing in his compliments.  It's too much for me and I hammer it into him.  Four or five full strokes, full power, slamming into his ass with a thud as I let my second load rush out of me and into him, showering him back with my need and desire.

And as I refocus, panting...  trying to catch my breath.  I see him peering up at me still and I realize that I'm still so goddamn fucking hard.

Housekeeping: Swapping stories

So I've been chatting and swapping stories with a bud that also travels for work and I think though our conversations he's decided it's kinda nice to put these stories out there so he's started a blog:
http://attachedgaytraveler.blogspot.com/

Pop on over and give him some love.  He's got a good style going on.  Completely honest and straightforward and true.

I gotta say, it's been a great ride since I've started blogging and you guys out there have sorta filled this space that's been a bit of a void until then.  And as I see some bloggers stop writing, I'm glad to see others using the platform to take up that space.

On other news, I was chatting with a bud that's made these pages before.  He's a hairy cub that can cum multiple times.  Anyway, he messages me out of the blue one day and says we have a mutual friend.  It's the twerker!  We tried to arrange a threeway, but it fell through.  But I got a nice ego boost from the fact that I was mentioned as a good fuck.  You know, you have a fuck bud and you guys swap stories and you talk about a great experience you just had.  Well, I just happened to be that guy that was worth a mention.  Ha!  I was self-deprecating but still had a little bit of a swagger as a strutted about that day.

MIA...

So much for my resolution to post daily. Apparently it's hard to work, fuck and blog... Ha!

Collisions and density

I kinda wonder if this is what New York is like.  I'm in Vegas and the sheer density of people per square mile, makes it so that my whole list of people on Grindr are either in my hotel or the hotel next door.  And I've just walked the short distance from my hotel room to to this other guy where he was waiting for me on hands and knees in a pitch black room save for the glow of porn playing on his laptop, waiting for me to fuck my load into him.

He was a bit impatient.  Or maybe he was sore.  I wondered if he's load collecting mid-fuck as he's pretty loose and moist, too loose for me to be really hurting him fucking as hard and deep as I am.  I'm a decent size, but I'm not that big.  He flinches a couple times and pulls off.  Then starts talking about wanting my load.  I got the hint.

I didn't let him pull away next time and just hammered it into him, fucking the way I wanted to and the way I knew would get me off.

I blew my load and left.

And I honestly don't remember much about him.  Someone close.  Someone convenient.  And far too efficient.

As I pass the streams of people across the casino floor, I do a shuffle with one of them to avoid walking right into each other.  Half-smile.  Nod.  He's cute.  I let my eyes linger for a quick second.  Just a micro-flirt.  Quick thrill.  And as I wander past the density of opportunity makes it just too easy to have those little moments.  And yes, sometimes those little moments involve quickly planting a load in a guy's hole.

Vegas by way of Ohio

I really, really need to get my ass over to Ohio someday.  Never been, but every guy I've met that has made me want to spooge just touching them hails from Ohio.  And I know of at least two bloggers that still live there that have the same effect on me in that virtual way of touching over digital delays across the wire, so there's apparently a never-ending source of hot.  I've merely sampled the tributaries that have webbed out from that wide lake of perfection, just the thin capillaries of a magnificent beating heart.

He's now a Vegas local now, having been tossed around the country through the military and finally ending up making a home in the desert.  And he's intensified the sexy quota of every place he's landed, I'm sure.  Dimpled smile.  Tall otter type with a nice natural dusting of fuzz all over his front.  Cute, bright smile.  And a complete perv underneath that coy innocence.

What's most memorable is the flirtations that preceded our meet.  The standard process on the apps feels like a job hunt.  You throw your feelers out there and some nibble, there's a screening process that get more and more detailed and then you seal the deal.  All pretty routine and almost robotic.  In fact, there are bots out there that have kinda nailed the conversation trail down to the point where instead of sealing the deal they lead you into a scam of some sort.  This guy's different.  It was tentative bursts of enlightenment, wipers that widened your understanding with each pass.  Forward, retreat.  The move forward is an offering of information.  The retreat was from a touch of insecurities.  Straight forward plain statements of desire and subtle expressions of needs as he retreated.  It wasn't a game.  He wasn't blowing me off or anything, just wrestling with what he wanted to tell me and by doing so told me even more things.

He blurted out his serostatus at one point out of the blue before retreating and I pulled him back with open honesty, actions and words to lay myself as vulnerable.  He tried playing tour guide for awhile, suggesting fun places to go on a Friday night.  Something led to a comfortable exchange of ideas and thoughts, past and present.  By the next morning, there was mutual understanding.  Flirtatious witticisms leading to perv talk.  I talked about the guy I had fucked last night, he told me of the couple that spit roasted him in the bathroom stall at the club that same night.  And then just as friendly and casually, we met.  And true to my experience to all former Ohio natives, I shot my wad inside him within the first fifteen minutes of heavy petting, making out and fucking.  Luckily I stay hard sometimes when I cum that quick and we kept on rolling around for the next hour with the same forward exploration alternating with retreat as we had over the app, rolling tides of familiarity, until it was time to disengage and check out of my room.

And on the plane ride home, I snoozed thinking two things: that I just fucked a boy that I felt I could truly see...  and that I really need to find a way to make myself over to Ohio!

Me, in action

Well, sorta... I took a burst photo of me playing with a big bottom (chub bear with a deep masculine voice... former military, former muscle bear...  hot seeing a guy like that beg for cock) and thought I'd turn it into an animated gif.  Enjoy!

Remnants of the massage

I flopped back onto the bed only to find it littered with little curled C's all over the bedspread. He was a tall and beefy bear type. Covered in coarse dark hair that felt great on me when he pressed against my back. I had paid for a massage with some "bonding time" and that meant that having a two-hundred slab of pure masculine beef lying on top of you and pressing you deep into the mattress. I didn't mind that one bit. I got a happy ending, which I really didn't need and I would have much rather had it sinking my tool deep inside him, but a handy was fine. I just didn't expect him to shed on the bed. It made me smile, though, thinking about our bodies rubbing together, skin to skin, his hairy body all over mine, and him leaving his DNA in a peculiar manner. The rococo of curls was him shedding on the bed.

It didn't freak me out at all, but I opted to sleep in the other clean bed that night nevertheless. The advantage of being a solo business traveler in a room with two beds.

Information

I'm usually the one probing a guy after sex for more personal information.  Perhaps it's an annoying or odd habit as a guy just wants to get the fuck out of there after we shoot our loads.  Or maybe it's just a natural extension of sharing...  mutual lust, touch, body, fluids, and then opinion and perspectives.  But he's different.

I've just fucked my load into him, a longer session where I feel the rising tide of my cum build and dissipate over numerous cycles and I position and reposition him in various angles to keep it all fresh.  I'm slumped back into the pillows on my back as he gets up and idly finds his clothes to undress.  I'm barely conscious, catching my breath.  And he offers himself to me.  He offers a ton of information that flies at me, stream of consciousness, Gertrude Stein in playwright form.  

He's had surgery recently, which has changed his metabolism and has given a bit of a beer gut which he's unhappy about.  That makes me wonder if that's why his kisses taste metallic.  But before I can complete that thought he's already talked about his cats, his time in the army, gun control, and transient life.  I'm not sure how to change this into a dialogue.  My mind is already fuzzy and the jump in topics isn't helping.  And then I feel like an ass because I really just want to show him the door... after he's given so much of himself to me.  And all I've given him is my DNA.

Then thoughts on weather patterns, the american southwest, art.

I'm still naked and he's still lingering so I hand him more of his clothes.

New topics: Tribes.  Sense of belonging.  Carving out your own niche.

Back to the military...

After he's fully dressed, he tells me he has ADHD.  I nod, still thinking about the metallic taste of his mouth, then pat him on the ass before opening the door to show him out.  I barely said anything after I came.  Maybe I should reconsider how I engage people after fucking...

Flip flops, but not

As I was walked away from his hotel room, I stared at my flip flops. They're a pair of really worn out Reefs. The leather is soft and has stretched and lengthened out away from the soles from the extended use, so I noticed that I'm squinching my toes together afraid that my feet will fling it across the hall if I don't. Squinched tight. Holding it in place as I walk. Footsteps of sustained, tense muscle contractions.

The guy I just fucked advertised himself as a "bi top" on the headline of his Grindr profile. He probably is a top most of the time. We were both staying at the same hotel and I actually had double-booked play dates the previous night so all we had were like five minutes of jostling about before I jerked him off. He wanted to play again, but had an early morning flight. Fine by me. I'm a morning person. So he wedged a card in the doorjamb and I snuck in and woke him up this next morning with my cock sliding up and down his ass with only spit as lube. I fucked him with just our natural juices. When I came, his back was arched and his hips slightly raised with his legs splayed far apart. He was begging for my load as I fucked.

His room was completely blacked out so I'm sure he slept longer than he intended. He's not gonna have much time before he leaves for the airport, so I left him there panting with my load buried deep in his ass. And as I walked back to my room, scrunching up my toes, I imagine his ass doing the same as he walks down the long corridors of the airport, tightening up trying to keep my load in so it doesn't make a visible mess leaking out into his pants. Muscles of strained contraction as he walked. And when I finally opened up Grindr later that night, he left a trail of messages over the course of hours like long steps, each pregnantly laden with the same tension of consuming, sustained lust.

Extending a moment

"Where were you the first few days I was here in Vegas?" he asks.  Part of the question was muffled as he asks this into the pillow.  He's laying face down naked, both arms in crooked out and up over his head in a gesture of silent surrender.  "I could deal with a little bit of this every night I was here.  Look!  I'm breaking out into goosebumps!"  He lifts his head and turns it to gaze at his arm as if in disbelief.

I'm also completely disrobed, sitting right on top of his ass with my hard inches resting perfectly between his globes as my fingers trace the muscles on his back.  His back is seemingly smooth but my hands hover until they rake the tops of the invisible soft fuzz before the fingers dip down deep to outline the bones underneath.  

When he turned his head, I seized the opportunity and with both hands on his back, leaned forward to press more and more of him into the bed and squeeze more and more air out of him before my chest met his shoulders to pin him down.  My lips just hovered over his one ear that he's left exposed in turning his head, And I waited.  Waited for him to take in that breath, waited to match his rhythm, waited until we were in sync.  And then I licked my lips, there, just hovering over his ear so he can feel the heat, the moisture, and ultimately sense the flesh that was rolling around in my mouth before starting.  I wanted his ear to witness the power of sound as it is birthed directly from my core with just mere millimeters before it is anxiously received and caressed and massage into signals that directly reverberate into his head as meaning.  Simultaneously I undulate my body on top of his in a wave to seal and unseal us together in a sticky roll as his body breaks out into a sweat, neurons vibrating and reaching, overexerting itself to reach out at the promise of stimuli.  My cock drools a line down his crack at the end of that wave, snapping to a crack at the end of that whip that places the head squarely against his hole.

"I'm gonna fuck you," I whisper.  Or I don't whisper.  The words form with my lips, the lungs pass the air out of my mouth, the vocal cords almost massage the air into waves.  But he hears.  He understands.  A shock straight through to his deepest understanding. He welcomes me as the meaning skips through the air and is accepted deep within him.  And my hips mirror the waves that float through to his core to work my inches firmly so that he resoundingly receives me.

Yeah, I wish we had repeats of this, that it wasn't our first and only night where our paths crossed.  I even saved his pictures afterward to make sure I didn't forget him. But when I look back at them, they don't quite rival this memory I have of him, this moment where we are so intertwined in such physical and physically invisible ways.  And that's when I realize that I didn't need to have a repeat with him to have that same rush, to feel that same thing, to extend that pleasure over a couple more days.  Because I have this pure memory that all my senses etched into my mind and that moment replayed outlives any new memory I could have made with him.

The choice in rough play

Every now and then you see a person't insecurities play out before you. And then they say they want it rough. Real rough. They want to be abused and now you're faced with a choice. Do you play with those insecurities or not?

I was in Vegas for a conference and a kid from WI hits me up on Grindr. The conversation turns really raunchy quickly. It's the whole sin city thing. Everyone is a visitor. All inhibitions are lost. His limits are few and I'm keen on getting together. It's been awhile since I've really let go. He balks a bit when I ask for a body pic. He's seen several of mine so I press and he offers one up that's a bit hard to make out but I still invite him over. He ditches his friends at another casino with some lame excuse and makes it over to my room where I find out why he didn't want to send a body pic. He's not huge by any means. In fact, I've played with Chubs that are several sizes bigger. But I can tell he's insecure about it. And maybe I'm reading into it, but I sense he's got some issues being gay in a small town. He's bleached his hair really, really blond. A couple piercings. A style that's defiant in a really tentative way.

Over the course of an hour, I pull his hair, fuck my cock down his throat until he's gagging, slap him around, put him in a choke hold, He's a mess of body fluids both his and mine. Snot, tears, precum, saliva. All over. And he's rock hard throughout. I munch on his nips. Alternating from hard chew to soft massages and flicks with increasing intensity until I'm gnawing at them raw. I'm sure they're going to scab over in about two days. He'll feel me for the next five any time a breeze hits his way and his shirt rubs against the nubs.

And as I fuck my meat into him, I start calling him names. Some are rather innocuous. Others I know will hit home. His size, sexuality, appearance. He flinches at the words more than he flinches at my assault on his ass. Raw. Minimal lube. And I note that he's still hard throughout and grab his cock. He shakes his head no. That's a good sign He still is aware of himself and his needs even if just barely in the periphery. So I instead use that hand to pinch his nose and cover his mouth. Not enough to really cut off air supply. It's more of a symbol more than anything else. And he's all but sobbing into my hand as I launch an onslaught of verbal terror that rivals the physical pounding of his ass. And as much as I hate to admit it, the reaction turns me on and I fire deep into his ass. I normally can't keep up being verbal and physical at the same time. I get a little too cerebral and it like's patting your head and rubbing your tummy. Just an awkward combination. But this time I shoot hard.

I roll over. Exhausted. And pull him closer to me. Stroking his back. Trying to get him out of the sub headspace he's in and nuture him a little. He won't let me touch his cock, which finally starts to deflate. He pulls away. He denies himself still. I'm still not sure if I made the right choice in exploiting his insecurities or going as far as I did physically.

A few hours after he's left, I noticed that he's blocked me on Grindr.

Sweatshirt

I remember you wearing a grey sweatshirt that matched your eyes, eyes that I stared into intently in a way that made you uncomfortable as you stood there at the corner of the adult book store.  That shirt really does nothing for you.  Just a grey square that hangs straight from your shoulders down, hiding the trim waist that I had held onto just moments before.  My load is buried in your ass and you're shifting from foot to foot.  I wonder if all that jostling and gravity is going to make you stain your shorts.

You can't look me back in the eye.  Your eyes dart around and finally settle on the concrete as you stammer, "So, uh...  I don't live here but have family around here that I visit..  so, you know, I was..."

I hold out my hand, palm up and snapped my fingers over a couple of times in a one-handed clap.  "Give it here.  Lemme see your phone."  I say it with a smirk.  I'm amused and honored that you don't want the moment we had in the arcade booth to end as you try to find a way to extend contact.

You hand it over surreptitiously.  Well, at least what you think of as surreptitiously, glancing over your shoulder quickly and checking to see if anyone was watching you before you punched in your passcode and all but threw the device over to me.  I'm glad we're not doing a drug deal.  Any one of these cars whizzing by on the busy street while we stood at the corner would have seen a really suspicious move. I open up the address book in your smartphone and create a new contact with just an email address.  The slutty one that I use with my regulars.  The one that you can't as easily trace back to my pedestrian life.  The one that doesn't return anything on facebook.

There's a pause and you say, "I'm glad we met.  That was really, really good."

I half smile again.  Still staring into your eyes.  One eyebrow raised.  "Yeah, bud.  I feel the same way."  I was sincere.  Full smile now.  But I jerked my chin up as if to dismiss you.  You turned to walk away, but glanced over your shoulder for a final look.  And I stood there for a brief moment to watch your ass bounce away and that boxy grey sweatshirt swirl around you, trying to disguise your extremely strong and fit torso.  A cloak to hide you, a barrier to your true self.  Kinda like the email I just gave you.

And again

So they say that if you play with fire you should be prepared to get burned...

I have a habit of finding or attracting (vers) tops and I don't always have that hard of a time in getting my cock up inside them to fuck a load out of them or to fill them up with mine.  BiMarriedDad from the previous post isn't an exception.  Every now and then we get together without a bottom to share.  The mood is different.  It's less about the fuck and more about just enjoying each other.  Or maybe that's because we know that once cock meets hole, neither one of us can last long.  A tight hole for me, a new sensation pushing his joy button for him, and the mutual lust for each other ensures a rapid ascent to the top edge and the plummet over.

But this time, maybe it was being frustrated after having not been able to fuck last time with our bottom, maybe it was just finally that time, but I knew it was different.  He had one thing in mind.  It's always pretty passionate.  I forced him with his back to the wall and mashed my body against his.  He hugged me tight and all but threw me on the bed.  We rolled around over and over lips locked until I was on my back and he pulled up.  He eyed the lube on the nightstand and reached for it while I raised an eyebrow at him.  Yeah.  It was time.  He needed it.  And I actually wanted it.  Quick lube and then he slapped his thick heavy dick on my hole with an audible smack.

And he entered.

Fuck, it hurt.  He's never been easy on the bottoms we share but I actually felt like he was trying to ease it in with me but it still hurt like fuck.  He's thick.  Really thick.  And all I can see was a shock of white as my ass was ripped apart.  My mind was willing.  My body was not.

I must have made a face.  In fact I knew it when his face changed to that of grave concern.

"I'msorryi'msorry."

His words made me snap out of it and I realized the face I was making, a contortion of extreme pain.  And I realized I was holding my breath.

Panting, I barked out, "Don't you fucking go easy on me, boy!"  Yeah.  I called him, "boy".  I wasn't trying to elicit some sort of response of indignation to encourage a forceful fuck or anything.  Kiddo.  Boy.  It just falls from my lips sometimes during sex.  But whatever brakes he had pumped on before he let go and totally assaulted my ass.

I can feel my ass spasming around his cock.  I willed myself to relax my hole and it worked until he punched deep into my gut and hit that other ring deep inside that made me flinch and made my hole tighten and spasmed.

He stopped.  Fully inserted.  Deep inside.  Relax, tighten, flinch, relax, breathe.

"Dammit, I can't last," he says.

I just nodded.  And made my hole twitch on purpose this time.

He rammed me four more times, deep long strokes and I knew he was shooting in me.  I could feel it with each stroke.  More and more slick.  More and more wet.  Less and less friction.  Less and less pain.  I felt what my eyes have seen over and over before.  Swirls of fluid mixing, waves of strands curling around each other as the cum, sweat, musk, ass all intertwine and dance together.

No big growl.  No theatrics.  Always subdued.  Always substantial.  The way he cums aligns with his straightforward modest demeanor.  The way he fucks is completely opposite.

He came too quick and he's still rock hard so he keeps on pumping until the sensations are just too much.  It was a bit messy when he pulled out.  Not in a good way.  Not a good smell.  Ugh.  What can I say?  I wasn't prepared.  And he knows as well as I do that when you play with fire...  So no, I wasn't just referring to the fact on having another top making you flip.  Ha!

The bad mess

I'm making out with the BiMarriedDad I like to play with.  We have one of our regulars going back and forth sucking our dicks.  BiMarriedDad is a pretty soft-spoken cubbish type of guy originally from the midwest.  My height.  Dark brown hear that's starting to go grey in a salt and pepper sorta way around the temples.  He always attacks me with eyes of complete lust when we meet, hands reaching out for my head to pull me into a hard passionate kiss.  We're both tops, but fuck we got good chemistry.  We love to get each other worked up for the hole we're about to fuck.  And when I watch him piledrive his thick inches into a bottom, I can tell he's flipped a switch and that's all he's doing: fucking a load into a hole.  Really hot from such a mild-mannered guy.  The guy sucking?  Our cumhole?  He's an older latin guy.  Beefy in a solid way with beautiful smooth skin and a glorious bubble butt that he always frames in a jock. And loves to be completely used.

I'm ready.  Just a couple of drops of lube for good measure.  I'm already covered in that deep throat spit that I got from making him gag on my bone.  I work my bone in BeefyLatinCumHole while he's going to town on BiMarriedDad and things are feeling great.  I sink in with no issues.  He's relaxed.  No resistance.  And today, it feel especially warm and moist.  Almost as if he's already had another load up there.

I'm giving him deep full strokes that makes his ass bounce when I hit bottom and simultaneously my partner in crime shoves it deep down his throat making him gag.  His stomach heaves.  His ass clenches.  And then we repeat.  Over and over until I get that whiff.  Something isn't right.  I pull completely off and sure enough.  It was messy.

I clean up and when I get back, my bud is still feeding him his cock but looks at me and gives me that look of pure frustration.  He's horny and he wants to fuck.

We end up just shooting in BeefyLatinCumHole's mouth.  Just made quick efficient work of it.  BiMarriedDad had to go pick up his kids from daycare.  I had a league match to get to.  And as we each got into our cars, he just looked at me and gave me a wry grin, shaking his head.

Cute, handsome face

I'm a sucker for a cute/handsome face.  I guess that's all relative, but nothing gets me going more than a solid, square jaw line, especially one that bulges out like a guy grinding his teeth with a sneer.  Thick eyebrows on top of deep set eyes.  A visible forehead that elongates the face in a masculine way...  But unfortunately, this guy didn't have any of that.

He owns a few acres just outside of town.  A former ranch guy and his body shows it.  In fact, everything about his body I loved.  A couple inches shorter than me.  Broad shoulders that once his shirt came off. showed muscles braided along the wide expanse and down his back.  A narrow waist that accentuates the curves of his ass as it pops out just below.  What form he built up as a kid definitely got enhanced in the gym.  I would have thought I was watching porn, a ploy of mass-marketing masculine fantasy, if I couldn't reach out and touch him.  So the face was a bit jarring.  At least for my tastes.  

When he went in for a kiss, I half-heartedly gave him a few pecks.  My eyes were drawn to everything else he possessed instead.  He wanted those kisses so bad and my heart ached with profound empathy when I couldn't give him more than empty motions with my lips.  In the meantime, my eyes were eating up the beauty of his body, making my cock drool with copious fuckjuice salivation so that as my body involuntarily mashes against him over and over, I started to enter him little by little until I was balls deep inside him.  Raw.  Natural.  His eyes cracked open with a gasp when I hit bottom before they settled with a sigh of regret, mirroring the same empathy that I showed him before, as he pushed me off him and reached for the condom.  We both sighed with regret that we couldn't quite give each other what they wanted.

I still fucked a load out of him.

I also came fucking him and I was quite amazed at how big my load was in that rubber.  I usually don't cum that much.

Storyless 2

I have a few things to catch up on, but dammit! Work keeps getting in the way.
So here's a pic of what my super shooter cop bud can do. He's talented with a loaded weapon...