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2011/08/20

Elevating One’s Taste While Elevating One’s Legs: The Current Value of My Sexual Brand Stuck in a Downward Economy

I suppose it is possible to elevate one’s sexual taste level over time. Otherwise, I have no explanation for the lack of enthusiasm I have for many of the encounters I’ve engaged in recently. Granted, this malaise sets in after the fact (and the act), but then when else is one able to develop a fully informed opinion about something except after complete consumption? Mid-act there have certainly been a number of red flares that have gone off and warnings that should probably have been heeded, but I tend to ignore the presence of such in order to bring the whole thing to fruition.

So these aren’t cases that I would categorize as mercy fucks, or instances of being caught in the middle of something I couldn’t get out of. These are encounters which held great promise at the start, only to fizzle, as if something was lost in their execution, leaving me feeling less than fulfilled. Like a bad movie, these are trysts that I will see to the end, if only to take time later to analyze just what the hell went wrong. Maybe it’s my need for completion, or maybe it’s my desire to rescue and fix things – but I will remain at my post – taking it up the ass, in the mouth – until the very end.

There is also a possibility that my last adventure(s) at the warehouse party have left me horribly spoiled. When the bar is raised so high, how can single incidents of sexual contact compete? Given that, I will probably never write about my last night at the warehouse. It was too all consuming, complex and intense; I don’t think I could ever do it justice. Suffice to say that I left that night feeling truly, thoroughly fucked. (Yay!) And in light of the events of that night, maybe everything since then suffers in comparison.

Maybe.

Yesterday afternoon I had the opportunity to be pig-roasted by two dudes. We dickered about where to do the deed, but there was no doubt that the deed would be done. It involved a recent find of mine; a rather sweet, cute, salt and pepper type, ten years younger than me, tall, slim, smooth and with a nice sized dick and nice skin. A total top, we’ve played in my garage and my basement at various hours in the past. He’s partnered, so opportunities when both of us are available are few, but when we do match up, we take advantage of it. I like him a lot. He’s a little quiet during sex and he no longer kisses me as much as he used to. Still, he’s very meat and potatoes about his sex and enjoys taking his time – within reason. As much as I like his dick – and I do, it is very pretty, nicely shaped and sized, it is another part of his anatomy that my eyes are constantly drawn to: his feet. Once I even caught him with nail polish on them. They remain an object of desire, for we haven’t had any opportunity to explore that fetish; for when my mouth isn’t busy sucking his cock, it’s turned around in the opposite direction while my bum gets the attention of his rod. Yep, he’s a good fuck, and for this particular three-way, our first, I can honestly say that he more than held up his end. He always leaves me smiling.

It was the other guy that left me wanting. Upon arrival, I introduce myself, but apparently needn’t have, as according to him, we’d played before. It must have been a long time ago, because I don’t remember him. But as time goes on, with the many one-moment stands that I have, that is more the norm than the exception. Unless I’ve made a really deep connection with someone or played with them over a period of time, my memory is – how you say – not so good. Not so good would also help explain why this particular dude didn’t ring a bell in my sexual history.

The dude is fine looking; tall, very tan, slim, with a nice face and a nice long, fat dick. I like his nipples. Maybe my only complaint with him is that he needs to get back to the gym, because I swear his skin is a little loose. But then gravity wins and you just wait; wobbly skin comes to us all, Mary Margaret. Someday I bet I’m in the same boat. Regardless, he is an attractive man, maybe a few years my senior, but not much.

Initially, he’s lying on the bed, spread eagle (let’s call him Mr. Tan), and I move in and take his cock in my mouth. I’m able to bring it to about sixth-eighths hard and he seems to be enjoying what I’m doing. All the while I’m sucking, Mr. Sexy Feet (you know who I’m talking about) is working his dick in my ass doggy style. Mr. Sexy Feet is hard as a rock and I am loving that portion of this double feature. This last about ten minutes. Please keep in mind that we only have thirty minutes to play because one of the tops has to get his ass to work. Yep we’re working with a time schedule.

Now – I had been promised a tag team – something I have only truly experienced a few times (like the last time I was at the warehouse – hoo-boy), so I am thinking this is going to be about them taking multiple turns using my hole. In my favor is the fact that Mr. Sexy Feet can last a long time when he wants to, and while we are on a deadline (2:30 pm, to be exact), he has the stamina required. Mr. Tan on the other hand, never gets his mast up to full sail. The third time Mr. SF takes his cock out of my ass, I decide to change up the game and give Mr. Tan his call to arms. My mouth leaves Mr. Tan’s more-or-less erect penis and soon finds its way onto Mr. SF’s primed member. Mr. Tan takes the hint, gets up off the bed, moves behind me and manages to cram his dick in my hole. Something nice does happen at this point. Mr. Tan is a more aggressive fuck than Mr. SF and I find that we quickly establish a rhythm where he pounds my ass, pushing my mouth down the length of Mr. SF’s rock hard cock. So essentially I am just part of an automated motion machine – in other words, the perfect piggy in the middle. This lasts a good seven and a half minutes, during which I experiment flexing my hole and my throat with different intensities all the while maintaining the established rate of motion.

When Mr. Tan pulls out, his dick is in need of resuscitation, so I quickly turn around and give it a little breath of life. Mr. SF immediately pile drives into my ass and is hoping to repeat the automated motion machine, only with him in the driver’s seat. Alas, Mr. Tan’s dick is less than cooperative. I do remedy the situation by deep swallowing his half-hard member and then flexing my throat, as if swallowing very hard. Mr. Tan likes this and tells me so. Unfortunately that renders my front end fairly motionless and Mr. SF is unable to rock the house as much as he would like. Instead he goes back to the polite in and out that he had established during his first time up to bat. Ten minutes go by and Mr. Tan is not showing any sign of wanting another shot at my ass – in fact – he appears a little spent. Mr. Sexy Feet senses this, too, so he decides to shoot and score. He is a quiet fucker, even in this setting, and since my mouth has been busy since I got there, all I have added to the dialogue is a few deep, earthy grunts. Mr. Tan has been a little more forthcoming by pointing out when I am doing something that works for him, but this is sure no porno shoot. Nobody is talking dirty, tipping their hand when they want to cum, or cheering on the other team to score. So when Mr. SF loses his load, my only indication that he is about to do so is that he tenses up, makes a tiny sound, and then drastically slows his rate of thrust. Mr. Tan asks him if he’s cum, and Mr. SF answers in the affirmative.

That’s when Mr. Tan pulls his dick out of my mouth and tells me to kneel on the floor, for he wants to leave me with a nice facial. Only he doesn’t. Oh, he cums, but honestly I don’t have any idea where that cum ends up – but it does not land on my face at all. And so we’re done. We have run out the minutes on the clock. The buzzer sounds. End of game.

I retire to the locker room, clean up, douche, wipe down, and thank the participants as I leave… and am left wanting.

Maybe it’s because nobody paid any attention to my junk. But then again, that can be a real turn on – being just a couple of holes to be used by others to fulfill their needs. However, that’s not the case here. Maybe it’s because it wasn’t a real tag team match. I like it when the dudes trade off multiple times. Mr. Tan only came to bat once, and while his technique was nice, it still felt more like a bunt than a real home run.

So, I sit in my car and try to decide what to do with the rest of my afternoon. The three of us only had a half hour to play anyway, so it’s not like I had expected a marathon session. Still, I am left wanting and I decide to go to this park I know and tan a bit.

I get there only to learn that this is not the ideal park to score more fun, not on this particular day anyway. There is a company event in one of the nearby pavilions and one of the park maintenance crew is mowing my favorite layout spot. So I opt for my second favorite and get all situated. I know that between the mower and the group in the pavilion none of the regular cruisers are going to come by, but that is okay, because that is when I start to contemplate just how sexually unsatisfied I have become lately. Now keep in mind that I think Mr. Sexy Feet more than delivered. He is one of my current favorites and for good reason. But Mr. Tan, on the other hand, he brings to mind a number of others who have not been able to bring my wagons to full circle.

Just the other day, at the very park I was currently sitting in, I had the pleasure of sucking on two fine fellows at once. One, a dude I’d played with once before – a very, very handsome man with salt and pepper hair and a hot bod. He has a dark mustache and it lends him a bit of a Latin flavor. He was very skittish the first time we played, but I managed to get him off. That day I was not so lucky. Probably because we were interrupted by this vaguely Native American type with a thick dick and shoulder length black hair. He’s got a big build on him – not fat at all, but hulking none the less. The guy with the mustache, who wasn’t getting it up anyway, begs off and leaves me with the Native American dude – who also fails to really deliver anything of value. I let him jerk himself off and then let him steal my bottle of poppers. Again, the situation held so much potential, but the execution ended up very flawed. Both dudes paid attention to my junk though, so that was nice. Unfortunately I just didn’t feel that the Native American dude was worthy of my nut. Also, once the dude with the mustache left, the Native American dude quickly lost his appeal.

And so it has been. I look back at my sex diary and realize that since the night of the sex party at the warehouse one week ago, I have had sex with eight dudes. And out of those eight, only two were truly nut worthy – one being Mr. Sexy Feet (even though he never plays with my junk) and the other, a dude I’d never met before who fucked me in my garage. Hmm… he was also ten years my junior. Coincidence? Maybe dudes my age and older just can’t cut it anymore? Naw. That’s not it. Dude in the garage was also slim, shorter than me, furry, nerdy and scruffy. But he did have a nice dick and knew how to use it. I also liked the way he moaned when I pulled on his balls while giving him head.

Nope – I think it has to do with ability and commitment. I always bring my A game or I stay home. I’m not sure that is true of others. And yes, I realize that it could be something about me that left the other guys wanting, as in, they were not that into me, but, honestly, I don’t thinks so. I certainly recognize the signs of those less enthused. And I think I know quality. And I definitely know when somebody isn’t hitting the mark. Hmmm…I think the bar has indeed been raised.

Which is good. Maybe it will lead to me be more selective and less compulsive. Maybe I will start window shopping more and pulling out my sexual credit card a little less, and by that I mean, maybe I will be cruising more and offering up my lips and ass less often. Flirting is fun. I think. I can’t remember. Any encouragement in my direction usually leads to my clothes being shed. And given my age, maybe a little restraint in that department would be a good thing.

It all comes down to branding – and not the kind masters do to their slaves. I mean my personal brand. Maybe I’ve watered my brand down a bit too much. Spread my legs a little too thin. Just what am I worth in this current sexual market? Have I devalued my stock? Will the marked turnaround? Or will I be doomed to liquidate my assets and go out of business completely?

It brings to mind an old Rosanne Cash song, written by her ex, Rodney Crowell:

Now it's a brave new wave we're roarin' in
Hanging out, out on the rock 'n roll fringe
Speaking of running around
All over town, lettin' it show
That ain't no way to treat your lover
Ain't no way to act in public
Baby, better start turnin' em down
Baby, better start turnin’ em down


See, sometimes I forget: “no” is always an option.

2011/08/12

Acquired Tastes, Chapter XV: Camping

With the twilight of summer fast approaching, I didn't want the season to go by without touching on the topic of outdoor camping.

We’re not talking about the kind of camping that takes place bedecked in a feather boa, glittery eye lashes, and fishnet stockings. We’re also not talking about the kind of camping that takes place while watching ‘Mommy Dearest’ or ‘Showgirls’. We’re talking the real thing – with a tent, in the woods. We’re talking about getting back to basics – the dirty, funky, hunky basics.Yes, we’re talking about the kind of camping where mosquitoes, poor sanitary conditions, three-day growth of beard and smelling like a smoked ham is the norm.

For some, camping is a sport. For others it is an opportunity to find out what it likes to be homeless for a weekend. Roughing it is not for everyone and God help those of you who find yourself on a camping trip with one of those people who do not enjoy it – for they will do their best to not only let you know how miserable they are, they will also do their best to ruin any enjoyment you might get out of it as well. To be fair? When you’re only one roll of toilet paper away from complete hygienic breakdown, it is easy to see why some might whine a bit. That’s why only real men may apply.

So, leave your microwaves, your mini-fridges, your blow dryers, your private bathrooms, your well-lit mirrors, your whiners, your cream puffs, and your prissy queens at home, and let’s go…

Camping

Scope of Activity:

We’re talking about pitching a tent; one to sleep in, and one to sleep with! If you are lucky enough to find that special someone who can let their inner animal out once in awhile and divorce themselves from the norms and conveniences of modern day life to go camping with you without risking actual divorce, then you are in for a sensual treat. Are we talking real man stuff here? Most definitely!

The Official Line:

Sleeping in the great outdoors can be a very beautiful experience and there are many ways to go about it. You can tow a fiberglass camper along, featuring all the conveniences of home and experience little in the way of inconvenience and hardship. Or you can go half-way there – take a tent, build that campfire, but remain within walking distance to running water, hot showers, and toilets that flush. Or you can go all the way – backpacking it into the Boundary Waters where you will dig a latrine, bathe in a lake, stream, or river, and deal with Mother Nature on her own terms. The idea of the latter form of camping? Sexy. But not always practical. So I rather opt for the second version – especially the first time I go camping with anyone. Yes, I like running water and I like it even more when that water is hot enough to kill germs. Not that I don’t appreciate the lure of a remote outhouse – that can be sexy, too – provided it is not 98 degrees outside with no wind and at the height of mosquito season.

Timing does play an important part in just how sensual an experience your camping trip can be (damn mosquitoes). That and luck. Bad weather can ruin the most well planned outing.

Psychological Aspects:

I personally don’t know any camping enthusiasts who did not experience camping in their youth. I believe that is where our relationship with Mother Nature and the great outdoors springs from. If your family took you camping, or you went camping as a boy scout and you had a positive experience, those feeling may well carry over into adulthood. At the same time, those repeatedly forced to endure a weekend outdoors against their will probably now flee screaming at the mere suggestion.

What makes it sexy? I think it has to the getting back to basics thing. The whole survivalist mentality is rather animal in nature, and animalistic behavior can be rather sexy, when done correctly. I know there is a whole school of male sensuality that is built upon the premise that body odor and the like are natural occurrences in and therefore part of the male sensual experience. Certainly, if camping without the aid of running water – or even with it – body odors will become an aspect of camping. Hygiene is not high on the list when in survivalist mode. So it comes down to your tolerability level and what kind of camping experience feels sexy to you. Communing and con-noodling in nature can be a lot of fun.

My Experience:

Boy scout camp is not where it all began for me, but it is where the sensual part of camping came to fruition (so to speak). I used to go camping with my family all the time. This meant hiking a lot, canoeing, sitting around a campfire, gathering wood for said campfire and putting up with the mood swings of various family members.

That all changed once I got an erection, which is also about the time I started going camping with my boy scout troop. I remember vividly posing in the opening of my tent for my camp leader, bare naked, showing off my tiny little erection on my first camping trip with my troop. He laughed and looked away, and I modestly stole back into my tent and finished dressing. But it was the beginning of my love affair with outdoor exhibitionism. After that experience, I became something of a loner; exploring the back trails alone became my mode of operendi.

Yes, I remember being approached, sexually, by several adolescent tent buddies, one going so far as to climb into my sleeping bag naked, but I was a stupid Catholic boy, and so terrified that if I played ‘nut fuck’ with one of these dudes, they would then tell everyone I was gay. And back then, there was nothing worse than being gay. In hindsight, I should have just thrown caution to the wind. Who knows, it may have made me popular, in an under-handed sort of way. Or the object for even more ridicule than I did endure, who knows?

I remember often questioning some of the sleeping arrangements at these camp outs. It seemed a number of the older boys were bunking with kids several grade levels below them. Oh, well… all I can do now is wonder.

At these camp outs, I would spend most of my free time running around half naked, exploring outhouses, shower rooms, and the tents of the counselors. And once masturbation came into the picture, I just spread my DNA as far and wide as possible.

As an out, adult gay male, I have had the opportunity to go camping with several boyfriends/partners. The best was a New Ager who really enjoyed hiking and camping. We had a lot of fun. With this particular partner I remember many memorable hikes, lots of sex on rocks and mountain tops. and numerous episodes of skinny dipping. Joshua Tree National forest was a favorite of ours. As were the bamboo forests of Hawaii. I remember the night we went camping among the redwoods of Northern California, setting up our tent in the dark. A few hours later we were awaken by the sound of a bear trying to open the secure bunker where we had placed all our food. We stealthily made our way to the back of our SUV and ended up spending the night inside the vehicle. I don’t remember always being the greatest of companions during these outings (for I could, on occasion, be a whiney bitch), but we did have our share of fun. Getting sweaty together was always a good way to fuck the whiney bitch away.

Another memorable evening in the back of a vehicle was spent in North Dakota with a different boyfriend. We didn’t have the money for a hotel, so we camped – sort of. We didn’t have a tent and ended up sleeping in the back of my hatchback. We fucked that night, too… and the windows were hella steamy. In this case he was the whiney bitch and the whole affair ended shortly thereafter.

Last time I went camping, I went by myself, which made for an awesome opportunity to take self-pics on various trails and in various facilities, but left me wanting in the middle of the night. In the end? It just got boring and I cut the trip short.

Someday I want to try one of those gay nude camping weekends. Though from what I understand they are full of older dudes who are not in the best shape. But then, how would that be any different from what I find while cruising at my local park? And if that is the case, hey – I would just be the prize jewel, wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t I?

My Conclusion:

I love camping. I like setting up the tent and then pitching my own tent. Getting naked outside rules (except for the mosquitoes). If you are not prone to this kind of thinking, then there is no way I could ever convince you to even try it, for camping is not for the faint of heart, the easily frustrated, or those who value their creature comforts.

For those of us who do enjoy the outdoors, camping can be one of the ultimate sexual experiences, a cornucopia of sensual delights everywhere you look.

Next Taste: Rimming

2011/08/07

Cum Fever: Search for a Cure

There are things I’ve never tried before, some due to the fact that the activity involves the help of others and I tend to shy away from group activities. You know, except for group activities, such as the warehouse parties or maybe a bath house, where – to be fair, you still pretty much end up playing the lone wolf unless you happen to stumble into a group in process and nobody objects to your joining in.

A trend that I’ve noticed since the whole barebacking scene got a foothold into our gay cultural mind meld is where someone pimps out a bottom dude’s ass on-line in an attempt to load him up with as much cum as possible. The whole idea – I mean just writing about it, even – has me all aquiver with a belly full of butterflies. I find it super titillating. The few times that I have gone to the warehouse party and gotten up on the end of that bed in the dark, secluded cubby and offered up my hole to all cummers, I got such a fucking kick out of it. Granted, I moved aside as soon as a more aggressive (younger) bottom came on the scene, or when approached a few too many times by dudes I didn’t find that appealing, but it was still a very thrilling experience. And yes, I realize, maybe a foolish one, too – but then, this blog entry is probably not going to please those who find the whole barebacking scene appalling and unconscionable.

I’ve also seen a number of individuals who pimp their own ass on a regular basis, either via bbrts or craigslist. The goal in for these individuals is multiple loads in their ass – as many as possible. If you’ve ever seen a cream pie video on Xtube, where a dude expels a cum load from his freshly loaded hole, and found that hot, then you know what I’m talking about when I talk about Cum Fever.

I get the mindset of these individuals. I worry a little about their safety, but I do understand their desire. It becomes like some weird gay frenzy; which is where the safety net of having someone else monitoring your activity comes in handy. The pimp basically sets up the ads, entices potential sperm donors, screens out potential problem clients, hosts the event, and usually acts as a sort of guardian during the actual encounter. That way the bottom is free to simply take dick after dick, load after load, without worrying about answering the door, or potential physical harm from a visitor (save the usual STD scares).

Last Monday I got just such an offer. Unsolicited. This dude I occasionally chat with on bbrts said he wanted to host my ass and get me loaded up as much as possible. He’d done this with a few friends of his in the past with quite a bit of success. Eventually we determine that Friday would be the best night for both of us. Granted, I already have plans with a friend of mine; a former fuck bud who I have not seen for some time, but I figure this is Monday and the likelihood of this dude actually following through and hosting my ass is pretty slim, so I roll the dice.

On Thursday evening I email the dude and ask if we are still on, and low and behold, yes, he is still interested in hosting this scene. I tell my fuck bud about it Friday morning via email and invite him to participate. Something tells me this was not the coolest of things to do. The next morning I email the bud I stood up and apologize for being such a self-centered, inconsiderate jerk. Whether he forgives me or not remains to be seen. But I feel like a total tool having switched plans on him at the last minute. This kind of behavior probably helps explain why I have no friends. Anyway…

After numerous, somewhat-vague emails the day of the event, I finally get my pimp-to-be’s address. I trim my fur, shave my ass and balls, and am as tan as a Jersey Shore kid. I start my douching early in the morning, so I am clean as a whistle by the time of the event. I arrive with no fears about poop juice or being a dirty bottom. Start time for the event changes several times, but 7:30 pm is the time finally agreed upon.

My host is a very nice, blonde man a few years my junior and of average height. He’s wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a short sleeve Hawaiian-style shirt. He's charming from the get go; extremely glib and a great conversationalist. He posseses a cherubic face and a boyishness that's a very winning combination.

He already has two ads on Craigslist and is posting a third. We have a few potential donors, but only one for sure. The for sure dude turns out to be a regular of his from previous such events; an Asian man with a beautiful body and a nice sized dick. He arrives very promptly and walks into the bedroom escorted by my pimp to find me, naked, on all fours on the bed with my ass in the air. I turn around and suck his dick. It’s nice. Thick and about 7.5 inches. He’s very complimentary about my dick sucking skills and asks if I’m available on a regular basis. Gee. I am such a good whore! He then orders me to turn around and fucks me silly. He works out all the time and has a great physique and really knows how to dole out a good pounding. The entire time we play, my pimp stands just over the dude’s left shoulder, commenting, touching and tweaking the dude’s nipples. I’m cool with that, because he’s not overly intrusive. The Asian dude shoots his load deep in my gut and it is game over.

We chat as he dresses. He really is a very nice looking man – probably in his late twenties, early thirties. His body is super hot. He keeps apologizing for cumming so soon, and I’m like not having a problem with what went down, so he’s good in my book. I may be seeing more of him, but it won’t be at my pimp’s house. The next dude arrives, after much chatting back and forth about the location, fifteen minutes after the Asian dude has left. This guy is a handsome white dude with an average body. He’s one of those guys who is so good looking that he doesn’t need to stay in shape. He’s in his mid-thirties and wants me on the bed, blindfolded when he walks in.

As happens on occasion, this dude never gets hard. But he’s also one of those dudes who simply cannot cop to the fact. Therefore, we spend a good 30-plus minutes trying to come up with various ways to get him up. At one point I lay on my back with my head hanging off the bed so he can fuck my mouth. This, unfortunately, puts my nose a little too close to his ass. I get a whiff and it is not pretty – in fact, it makes me gag. I’m no princess when it comes to man smells, but this dude seriously needs to clean up his act. After getting myself out of that position, I cooperate for another five minutes or so before feigning a sudden illness due to my having consumed too much poppers. I run to the bathroom and douche my ass while waiting for Mr. Handsome Stinky Butt to get a clue and leave.

He finally does. I get a glimpse of him before he goes, and yes, he is indeed drop dead gorgeous. Turns out he is also a bottom! Huh? Turns out he was so excited upon reading the ad he wanted to take part in the scene. I laugh. What else can you do about it? I tell my pimp about his stinky ass – which is rare on a true bottom, and I also tell him what a weird little dick he had – it had all sorts of bumps on it – which brings all sorts of ugly things to mind, like warts and the like, and I am totally regretting the whole scene.

My pimp and I access the situation. It is now 9:00 pm, there are no more prospective johns and I am thinking I can still salvage my evening by getting my ass over to the warehouse party. I make the call, we bag it. My pimp agrees. After more chit chat, I finally manage to get out of there.

Okay, so not the worse thing that has ever happened to me. The Asian dude was a real find and I’m glad we hit it off. Mr. Handsome Stinky Butt? Not so much. Bottom line, it was a failure. My pimp said he usually has a lot more success. He blames it on the warehouse party, but I know better. I’m pretty sure it’s me. My age, to be exact. The other dudes he has done this with were in their 30’s. Dudes in their mid-forties, in this ageist gay society of ours, no matter how nice their body is, aren’t gonna pull the same numbers.

So, been there, tried that, failed, let’s move on.

And so I did. I went straight to the warehouse party where I had a night unlike any other. It more than made up for Mr. Handsome Stinky Butt. In fact, it exceeded all my expectations. Maybe I’ll share the details next week. All I will say right now is… that night at the warehouse?

It cured me of any fever I might have had.