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!

Video: http://anothercheater.tumblr.com/post/141727291935/and-heres-a-video-with-gaymarriedinthemidwest

Worries

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.

Tweaked?

This is guy #4 noted here

TweakerCub

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

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...

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!

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.

"But..."

"I..."

"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.

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 ( http://misterclarkrogers.tumblr.com ). 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.

Giving

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.

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?

"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.

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.