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Thursday, December 31, 2009

Sidewalk Talk: Tale of a Different Kind of Miami Turn-Around

In the midst of winter I like to think back to days when I was not fighting slushy, icy streets or mountains of snow. Today, I remember fondly an encounter on a sidewalk in South Beach in 2004.

I was staying at a rather crappy hotel on Collins Avenue, a block from the beach. I’d just checked in – into my hotel room and with my friend who lived nearby. I told my friend that I wanted to rest a bit. I lied. Stealing out the back way of the hotel, I escaped down an alley which led to a sidewalk that would take me to the beach. I was so excited. My plan was to revisit a restroom on the beach that has always been quite cruisy and one in which I have gotten my rocks off a number of times during my then frequent visits to Miami.

As I made my way to the beach, I passed by a cute, younger man – in his late twenties. He was just under six foot tall, with light brown executive-cut hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing a pair of washed out khakis, sandals and an unbuttoned, tropically-themed, short-sleeve shirt exposing just a hint of his mostly hairless chest. His hands were in his pockets. Quite good looking, with a classic, strong chin, and great cheek bones, I don’t know what it was about him that made me risk turning around and checking him out again, but I did. Feeling full of adventure and lust, I spun around thinking that this man was so out of my league, a chance glance was the closest I would ever come to having sexual contact with him.

As it happened… there was something in the air in that brief moment when we passed each other on the sidewalk, for as I turned around to check him out again, he turned around to check me out. From the initial look in our eyes, it was obvious that neither was really expecting to meet the gaze of the other. In fact, we were both still in mid-step. I continued on, he halted. Realizing that he was now standing still, staring at my back, I spun around one more time and also came to a stop. He just stood there, staring, smiling. I smiled, too broadly, no doubt and had no idea what to do next. My blood was pumping, my heart racing. My head told me to go, continue on my way, and I was just about to, when one of his hands came out of his pants pocket and gently squeezed the crotch of his khakis.

Again, heart skipping a beat, I struggled to take a breath. What now?

Locking eyes, we began to walk towards one another. There were people walking all around us – on the other side of the street, next to us, behind us, but neither of us seemed to care. Small, wicked smiles played across our lips. With a yank of my head, indicating that he should follow, I retraced my steps back to my hotel. It felt covert and exotic. Hours before I’d been escaping from the drudgery of a Minnesota winter and here I was about to do something sordid and flagrant with a total stranger in a sun-kissed city where I’d only just arrived.

Silently, he followed about ten paces behind me through the alley and the open courtyard of my hotel. Once secure behind the door of my hotel room, we lost no time getting busy. Moving in for a kiss, my lips were re-directed to the fly of his khakis. On my knees, I could see that this man must be one hell of a camper, because he sure could pitch a tent. Unzipping his fly, I immediately came face to face with the head of his dick as it poked out through the opening of his boxers. I took that bad boy in my mouth to about midpoint. It was a very average cock… but then is any cock really average? Especially one that follows your ass back to your hotel room for a hot encounter?

He was halfway to hard when he first fell out of the fly of his boxers, so with only a bit of coaxing on my part he was soon at full mast. We were positioned right in front of the closed front door to my room. If someone had been standing on the other side peering through the peephole they would have gotten quite a show – a fish eye-view to be sure, but a nice show none the less.

Not one to trifle with clothing and without removing my mouth from his dick, I reached up and undid his belt and the button on his khakis. It simply makes it easier to work when everything is out in the open where you can see it. His thighs were covered with light brown hair and his bush was trimmed, but natural. Grabbing him by the balls, I brought his dick to my lips and swallowed deep. As the head touched the back I constricted my throat in order to add a bit of tension. He seemed pleased. His hands grabbed the sides of my head and he began to gently run his cock in and out of my mouth. Looking up, into his eyes, I could see a determined smile spread across his face.

There is always something extremely urgent about meetings like this. Everything becomes about fitting in as much activity as possible in the shortest amount of time, although both parties always seem focused on the same thing… shooting a load. This encounter would not prove to be an exception to that rule. I quickly ran through my gamut of cocksucking techniques. Once satisfied that I’d fulfilled that requirement (like a Boy Scout working towards a merit badge), I stood. I still wanted a kiss, but this guy had something else in mind – my ass. He put his chin down and began to fumble with button of my jeans. Thinking he just wanted to see my dick, I took over and quickly dropped them to the floor. Since I was headed to the beach intent on getting off, I had chosen to go commando that morning. I began to play with my dick, when suddenly I found myself spinning in place. The guy turns me around, bends me over and dives face first into my ass. Pretty sure of what was coming next and still bent over, I began searching the pockets of my jeans for my poppers and other supplies. They had barely spilled onto the floor before my sidewalk trick, reaching around me, grabbed the condom.

As he ripped the foil pack and rolled the condom on, I took a hit of poppers and waited to pass him the tiny, packet of travel-sized lube. Those little packets can be a bitch to open, but, using his teeth, this guy had no problem. I spread the cheeks of my ass waiting for him to lube me up. There was definite lack of verbal communication going on, so I guess I deserved what I got, which was an entrance into my hole that was about as graceful and pleasurable as a steel-toed boot being rammed up one’s hole at warp speed. Fuck, that hurt. I was seeing stars. I cried out, but my sidewalk trick would not be deterred from his mission: to dump that load. He grabbed my hips and rocketed in and out of my ass with a flurry that had me scrambling to uncork my bottle of poppers for another hit. Once their warmth spread through me, I relaxed and tried to get on-board with the program. Not that there was much of one.

He was relentless and seemed to be a one-trick-pony, that trick being a jackhammer-style approach to fucking. There wasn’t much I could do creatively to change things up, given our physical limitations (not near any item of furniture, pants around our ankles) and his urgency, so struggling to maintain my balance I began concentrating on my own dick, while adding the occasional moan or ‘fuck, yes’ to the soundtrack of whacka-whacka wafting through my hotel room. As he ramped towards his own orgasm, his hands moved from my hips to my shoulders, giving him even more leverage. It would be one of the few times I would hear his voice, a nice baritone, as he uh-uh-uh-uh-uhhhhh-oooohhhhhed his jizz into the reservoir tip of that condom buried deep in my ass. He shot about eight times and then grew still. For about one second.

I was still working towards my own orgasm, when he unceremoniously plopped his spent dick out of my ass, removed the condom and laid it on my backside. Swiftly pulling up his khakis and boxers, he peered around just in time to catch my first shot of cum hitting the hardwood floor. I was just finishing up my money shot as he was reaching for the door handle. Looking over his shoulder he said, ‘thanks’ and vanished.

I felt like I had just survived a hurricane. It all happened so fast. There was barely time to be disappointed. Not that I was. I know that’s just the nature of the beast. Peeling the used rubber from the top of my ass, I took note of the decent load he’d shot before walking it over with my jeans still around my ankles to deposit it in the john. Grabbing a towel, I returned to the scene of the crime to wipe up the lube, spit and cum that decorated the floor. What a mess. I thought about taking a shower, but decided that a dip in the ocean would probably feel much better. I pulled up my jeans, zipped, buttoned and grabbed my swimsuit from my open duffle bag. Figuring I’d get a cheap thrill changing on the beach, in front of total strangers, I grabbed a clean towel, a couple of condoms and mini-lubes, and headed out.

Walking down that same sidewalk, my recent trick moved into memory, as my thoughts centered on the reaction my freshly fucked ass would get as I stripped and changed into my swimsuit in the mens room on the beach. Who knows… maybe lightening would strike twice.

Or three or four times!

Xmas Cums Early: I Get One Nice Package

It’s three days before Christmas. I post an ad on Craigslist offering “Travelling Oral Service”. Basic set up is: I come to them, get on my knees, blow them, and they shoot in my mouth or on my face. Then I get up, use a wet wipe and leave. No names. No reciprocation. Discretion assured. I’ve posted the ad before and, as always with Craigslist, it’s a hit and miss thing.

An hour and a half after I’d posted I get an interesting hit. He describes himself as mid-thirties, muscular, masculine, and hairy, with an eight inch dick. The headless naked body shot he sends is pretty hot looking and since his location is relatively convenient for me, I decide to bite. He sends an address and instructions on how to get into his building. I’m to just walk in his condo and get busy.

I hit the restroom before leaving to brush my teeth and gargle. A little nervous, I’m always worried the dude will change his mind, or reject me because they’re totally out of my league. Or that he’s a scammer. It happens. I’ve been sent to addresses in the past only to discover an empty condo. Sucks, but that is part of the game when hooking up on the net.

I get to the general area the dude’s building is in and then proceed to waste ten minutes driving around figuring out where the hell it is. Finally, I find it, park in the guest parking spot as instructed and get into the building entrance. I punch in the code and enter the lobby which leads to the elevator. As the elevator ascends, I grab my poppers out of my bag and double check the condo number. Off the elevator, I check the signs that have arrows indicating which side of the building a given condo number would be. The number I have isn’t in the sequence under either arrow. My heart sinks. Scammed? Again? Or did I write the number down incorrectly? It’s a three digit number and I remember the dude mentioning something in his email about me coming off the elevator and finding the door right there. Behind a frosted glass partition I spy a door with a number. It’s the same three digits that I have written on my slip of paper, but in a different order. Maybe I did just write them down wrong. I make my way to the door and pause. What if I’m wrong? Well, I reason, then the door won’t open. I turn the handle and the door opens. I peek inside.

It’s an entrance hall with a matt and some miscellaneous biking and running apparel scattered about. Still unsure, I walk to the far edge of rug. My eye catches sight of a flat screen TV. I watch for a second. It’s a porno with a dude waiting for dick at a glory hole! Alright! I close the door and slip off my boots. Removing my coat, I reverse my b-ball cap and walk toward the room with the flat screen. I turn the corner and… whoa. I lose my breath. The hottest fucking dude is sitting there, naked, with his legs spread wide apart. I hardly know where to begin to describe him, but I will do my best and start with his legs. Fuck. They are not vein-bulging, but they are massive, muscular and massively hot with just the right amount hair. His calves are really thick. My dick springs to attention immediately. His torso is meaty and sexy as hell, covered in a fine coat of light brown fur. Nicely contoured arms rest away from his sides as he leans back on the couch, showing off his broad, hunky shoulders. This is the healthiest stud I have had the honor of being in the presence of in awhile – and I hit the gym four to five days a week. The black and white photo he sent sort of captures the general idea of his body, but does not do it justice.

His face is sexy is hell. It’s a combination of his cautious smile and lively eyes. He has close cut hair, cute as hell ears, and great cheek bones. There’s a ruggedness about him that makes me want to cream my boxer briefs. His eyes keep darting back and forth between me and the screen. Deciding not to wait to find out who wins that contest, I get on my knees. That’s when I come face to face with one nice package.

His dick was already hard when I walked into the room. Nice mushroom head, straight, thick shaft. Eight inches for sure. But as lovely as his cock is, it’s his ball sack that gets my immediate attention. The dude has great skin in general, but his ball sack is fucking heaven. Hairless, smooth, with a texture my mouth only dreams and drools about. Since his legs are spread wide I’m able to approach his balls from the bottom. I take a big hit of poppers and place my lips under his left ball and suck, like a koi fish. I allow my saliva to build up enough to slide more of his flesh bag into my mouth. Soon enough I have the whole ball in my mouth and I close my lips around it, giving it a slight tug as I do. He groans with appreciation as I roll it in my mouth, caressing it with my tongue. Given his positive response I decide to stay the course. I move to his left nut and start the whole process over. Again, I get a slight groan with the tugging of his ball. Dude’s ball sack is nicely shaped and sized. Amazingly, when I make my move to corral both balls in my mouth at the same time, they pop into place with incredible ease, no doubt due to the nice slick coat of saliva they were coated with. That’s when my real fun begins. I keep pushing the limits to see just how much strain that nut sack can take. With each slow tug he continues to make a sound… either a groan or a gasp. Sexy as hell. On the sixth tug, he finally speaks, telling me to ease up. I immediately do. I respect people’s limits, even as I like to test them. His dick has remained hard this entire time, and in fact, out of the corner of my eye, I caught it flex and throb as I was tugging on his balls. Deciding that his cock has been patient enough, my lips release his balls and work their way to its base. Keeping my lips firm and in koi fish mode, I kiss my way up the entire shaft, creating slight suction with each contact. Moving back down the shaft I slick it up with saliva before running my tongue back up to just under the head of his dick. Rising up on my knees, I engulf the entire head of his dick and, keeping my mouth open wide move down half the length. Then I close my mouth around the shaft and pause. This gets another response and now I want the whole thing. My mouth goes wide once more and I go for the base of his cock, pausing just long enough to relax the back of my throat when it hits it and allow it to pass. Then I wrap my mouth around his entire dick and take a deep breath through my nostrils. He begins to move his hips up and down, wanting to stuff my throat even more.

As intense as everything is feeling, neither of us is rushed or forceful. There’s an ease and sweetness to the whole thing that reminds me of why it is I love sucking cock. His hands move to the top of my b-ball cap and, applying just the slightest of pressure, he continues to slowly fuck my throat. It’s total bliss, and I’ve forgotten to take another breath, so I have to come up for a little air. That’s when I notice how cute the head of his dick is. It is a perfect, pink helmet; a lovely smooth dome that has just the hint of a curve at its very bottom. I decide to give it the royal treatment and begin slicking it up, rolling and running my tongue underneath and over the top of it. Closing my lips over its entirety I begin to suck and release, suck and release. I love the feel of this motion and the texture of his skin. While I’m working the head of his dick, he reaches over my back and begins to work his hand into the gap between the back of my jeans and my lower back. Man, I would give anything to give up my hole to this dude, but that is not part our agreement ad I plan to stick to the agreed scenario.

But my dick is pressing hard inside my jeans and I need to give it a little air. I unbutton them, undo the zipper and allow my swollen cock to ride up over the waistband of my boxer briefs. My mouth slides down the length of his dick again, riding past the back of my throat as I pause to swallow hard. As I continue to swallow and flex my throat on his dick, his hands continue to run down the length my back and reach into the gap at the back of my jeans. I then start bobbing my head up and down. His hands move to grab my upper arms and he squeezes. I’m still wearing my sweater, and since I have a white-t on underneath, I decide to give him a better idea of what kind of shape my body is in. I rear up and remove the sweater, working it over my b-ball cap as I do. I crouch back down and pause just long enough to give each of his inner thighs a kiss, before returning my mouth to his dick. His hands return to my upper arms and he aids me as I my mouth bobs up and down on his hot dick. I haven’t really used my hands much yet, so I decide to begin by isolating his balls to the bottom of his nut sack and hold them firmly for a bit. He sits up onto the edge of the couch and reaches under to play with my pecs and nips through my t. I release his balls, and take my mouth from his dick and I begin to give him what I call “the old whore trick”. This is basically a move I think I picked up from an Xavier Hollander novel back when I was a kid babysitting. Taking a slicked up cock in your hand you remove your mouth from the dick just long enough to run the palm of your hand over the head, before returning your hand to the base of the dick and your mouth over the top of the dick. It’s a trick whores use to get off a john faster, so they can move onto the next. Not that that’s my intent here. I just want to see what kind of reaction I get out of this dude. And I do get a reaction. After about the fourth roundhouse, he calls me off by pulling my hand from his dick. Dude is close. And that’s when he totally changes up his game.

He stands up, and I move back just a bit to allow him enough room. He grabs my head and begins to skull fuck the shit out of my mouth. Now I really have a sense of just how fucking masculine and strong this motherfucker is… what a man! I turn my head just slightly, which allows him to penetrate deep in my throat and that’s the spot he wants. He fucking holds my head tight as hell into place and he continues to push against my face.

That’s also when I notice just how fucking hot his legs are. Jesus, Joseph and Mary. Legs like a god. Big, fat, muscular calves, so hot, that after squeezing them with my hands and running up and down their full length, I take my exposed dick and begin to hump one of them. I would love nothing more than to shoot my load all over his hot leg, but then I remember the no recip clause of our agreement, which is the only reason I still have my jeans on.

He’s been gripping my skull something fierce this entire time and his tempo is definitely at peak point. He grunts out that he’s about to cum, which is nice of him – it always gives one the option to opt out of swallowing, but totally unnecessary in this case. A deep guttural sound escapes his being. He continues to slam fuck my face as he unleashes his load deep, deep into my throat. I only get a sense of just how delicious his jizz is once he is done and pulls his spent dick out of my mouth. It’s fresh and spunky, just as nature intended.

Horned up beyond all means, I just want more. I take his dick back in my mouth and begin to clean him up a bit. He’s really sensitive, pulling out after just a few seconds with a tiny shriek. Still, he’s nice enough to allow me four more tries before I finally take a hint and allow the man some air.

Dutifully, I get up, zip up, grab my sweater and poppers and make my way back to my boots. As I’m putting on my boots we make small talk, both giddy with the pleasure of the experience. As I’m walking out the door, he tells me he will definitely keep me in mind in the future and that it’s hard to find a good cocksucker in Minneapolis. I’m not sure if the latter is all that true – I know there certainly are a hell of lot of enthusiasts. Maybe they just lack the skills.

They should read an Xavier Hollander novel. Great source for working on your in-the-field technique.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

X-mas is When Santa Comes (And If Not Santa, Then Maybe The Guy Sitting On His Knee)

Well, here is a first: a letter from a reader seeking advice. And it’s season appropriate, too. Why he didn’t try Dan Savage first is anyone’s guess. I’m not one to give advice. My favorite phrase as an adult is “I don’t know.” Trust me; those three words can get you out of a lot of work. But here it goes…

Dear Upton…

I have a strange fetish. Or maybe not so strange. I don’t know for sure. I’ve spent time in internet chat rooms (even the ones about furries – not my thing), but no one has ever come close to touching on my kink, so I’ve never talked to anyone about it in depth.

It started when I was ten. At Christmas time, my family would go to the mall and I would get to see Santa. Sitting on his lap, astride his knee, I would usually spring a woody, which I didn’t think much of at the time. However, when I was thirteen and knew that Santa was a hoax, I still enjoyed sitting on his knee – a little too much – that year I had an orgasm while sitting on his lap without even touching myself. It was amazing.

This has snowballed into an obsession. I now visit many Santas throughout the season. I have to travel great distances to find new Santas, because, while having never been caught shooting a load in my shorts, a few of them have taken issue with someone my age (now 24, but look much younger) visiting them more than once. If they balk, I just tell them I need a photo for my Mom. I consistently get off this way, so I now have quite a collection of very odd holiday photos featuring my contorting face. I use them when I jerk off (no, I won't share them with you).

So do you know of anyone else who does this? I would think there would be a lot of girls out there into it, too (although I have never met any). Am I crossing a line having an orgasm this way? Is it illegal?

If I thought it was having a negative impact on my life, I’d guess I’d try to stop. But I really have no interest in sex with anybody else and my masturbatory fantasies all seem to revolve around Santa. So who am I hurting? Or am I a….

- Santa Instigates Crazy Kool Orgasms?


Oddly enough I know exactly how it is you get off. I’ve seen it firsthand. It was like something out of a Fellini movie, so sexy and surreal, I will never forget it.

It was in a storage room in the basement of City Center in the late 90’s. I and another dude (tiny black dude with a huge dick) stood and watched a performance of sorts. This other guy (late 20’s, Caucasian, tall, black body fur and pubes, with a big, curved dick set off by a very large pair of low hangers) had come to play with me and my friend. Neither of us had ever met him before, but via an internet chat room, somehow (I can’t recall) he had learned that we were getting together to play and asked to be included. My friend and I were game. It’s always fun with more.

Entering the room wearing dark sunglasses and a stocking hat, he removed all his clothing, except for those items and a leather cock ring. He also had his nut sack wrapped in something that looked like a series of chrome rings which caused his sizable balls to strain at the bottom. His body was very nice (softly muscular, pretty) and I liked his black body hair. His skin was pale with just the right amount of fur in the center of his chest. His legs and ass were nicely furry as well.

He made it very clear that he didn’t want us to touch him at all. We were there to watch.

My friend and I had already been playing, so we just stood there, mostly naked, and watched as he slapped his big, fat, curved dick and strained balled sack around while rubbing up against the furniture in the room. I’m not sure how long it went on, nor do I remember if there was much dialogue. It was very primal and rather hot. For his grand finale, he got up and laid face down on a stainless steel counter. That counter top could not have been very warm (I remember seeing a breath of perspiration appear on the counter’s metal surface when his body came in contact with it – much like how one fogs up a window in Autumn by breathing on it), but I think the temperature difference and the feel of the steel is what got his blood roiling. Maintaining a position much as one would while doing push-ups, he proceeded to position his rigid ball sack perpendicular to the metal counter’s surface and press his weight upon it. He appeared to be putting in an incredible effort and really getting off on it, based on the tiny noises of joy he was making. His dick seemed to get bigger with each thrust as he bounced his balls against the flat surface. It was all so strained and tense. My eyes didn’t know which sight to focus on – that of his black-hair-covered ass thrusting up and down or his ever expanding, vibrating dick being choked with each press of his bound nads. With a final grind of his captive balls his dick pulsed, throbbing hot and wide. A feral groan escaped his lips as long, heavy white ribbons of cum splashed forth. It seemed to go on forever, but in fact was limited to 13 squirts (yes, I counted). It would have made for one hell of a facial.

I’m sure my jaw was on the floor. I had never seen anyone cum in that manner or shoot that amount before. I know my friend was awed as well. Not only was his mouth hanging open, but he’d also unleashed a load of his own onto the floor at approximately the same time as our mystery guest.

As soon as the guy was done, without disturbing the pool of cum he’d just so dramatically deposited, he slid off the counter, dressed quickly and left without saying a word. The little black dude with the huge dick that I’d been playing with left in short order as well.

They left me to clean up the mess - which was totally my pleasure. I could not get over the size of the pool of cum that was left on that counter. But alas, some things are not meant to last (or be repeated). A squirt or two of glass cleaner and a few wipes of a terry cloth towel later the whole thing became memory.

I never saw the dude again, or if I did, due to his stocking cap and dark glasses, I didn’t know it.

Anyway… that is the method of how I believe you are getting off, SICKO – by grinding/bouncing your balls on Santa’s knee until you achieve orgasm. So it begs the question – have you tried sitting on other people’s laps? If so, did it do anything for you? If not, give it a try. Or is it the whole Santa outfit that is the object of your affection/erection and gets your nads boiling?

Now to address your questions: Yes, it is horribly wrong of you to be sitting on Santa’s lap at your age in order to get your rocks off. Shame on you. It is crossing a line, although I’m sure there isn’t a statute on the books anywhere that says you can’t have an orgasm in the privacy of your own boxer briefs. That said, your method is devious and the intent rather scurrilous, so by all means wallow in your guilt and shame, you dirty, nasty little slut. You may as well keep doing it until you can no longer get away with it or someone catches on.

Oh great… now I can’t get the image of an out-of-shape, eagle’s nest festooned, 45 year old man, bouncing away on Santa’s knee at the local mall until he lose his nut. Thanks.

Are you hurting anyone (besides me)? Well, yes… sort of yourself, dude. You’re robbing yourself of opportunities to develop your adult sexual self and experience an orgasm that is not Santa-related.

My suggestion: if it is the Santa Suit that does it for you, then why not put an ad on Craigslist? I am sure there are a ton of large-bodied, older dudes who would totally get off on the idea of you shooting your load as you sit on their knee; guys only too happy to help you fulfill your fantasies. Why, you could even try it naked! That would be way hot… as you can tell from the story I just shared (and from the few clips of guys getting off via ball sack pressing on Xtube) hands-free orgasms are sexy shit and can be a hot experience for all involved.

So, let’s say you do find someone to help you get off year round. You will then need to keep in mind that you may need to pay it forward – i.e. that it is only fair that you indulge in something that gets their ring-around-the-rosie.

Or, you could pay it forward by sending me those twisted pics of you making nut on the ho-ho guy’s knee. I promise I won’t share them with anyone.

Well, that’s it. My advice. For what it’s worth. If anybody else has something they want me to take a shot at (advice-wise, I mean), please feel free to write me at

Hey, all you happy homos and sexually evolved breeders, thanks for reading. I want to wish you all a happy x-mas. May your horny holidays be filled with mistletoe kisses and sex fantasy wishes.

Until next time…

Thursday, December 17, 2009

The Dynamic Duo: Three Ways to the Center of My Heart, er, My Hard On

It began on Halloween night of this year. I was invited to a sex party. It would be my first. I arrived ten minutes early, having cleared my schedule for the evening. Never having attended one, there was a certain mystique about the whole thing. I was intrigued. The invitation had come via one of the hook-up sites I frequent. I was told that bottoms were needed, so I was more than willing to enlist. Sitting in my car, I waited, wanting to see who would be the first to arrive. The invitation said 7:00 pm, which is awfully early for a sex party, from what I knew of them, but I figured it was Halloween and maybe they had other plans later that night. I didn’t see anyone else approach the house. Seven came and went and still no one was knocking on that door. Maybe everybody was coming later. Maybe I was an idiot for arriving ‘on-time’. I drove off, got gas at a nearby filling station and then returned. No new cars parked on the street. At 7:20 I got out of the car and made my way to the front door.

There was a sign on the door – No Trick or Treats This Year. Smart, considering the neighborhood was crawling with costumed rug rats knocking on doors demanding sweets. I rang the bell. It was a nice house, from what I could tell. A man came to the door. He was probably in his late thirties; a close cropped reddish beard framed his face. It was easy to see the outline of his hard dick against the crotch of his sweat pants shorts. Cautiously, he opened the screen door. A quick smile came to his face as he invited me in. His chest was covered in fur, his cranium less so, but at least he kept it closely cropped, thus avoiding that whole eagles nest look. As I followed him into the main part of the house I noticed he had a nice ass and a hairless back. I supposed you could call him a bear; his body was certainly sturdy and carrying a few extra pounds, but he was solid and healthy – not overweight or fat by any means. He struck me as the sort that would be an excellent cuddle buddy.

As we entered the living room I took note of the fact that this was not a house set up for an evening of entertaining. It was cluttered and busy. Off the living room, I spied, through an open door, a starkly appointed bedroom where a nude, thin, athletic-looking man wearing glasses stood in an apprehensive pose. The host instructed me to hang up my coat and I asked to use the bathroom. Once inside I checked my hole to make sure it was clean and washed my face. Reasoning that since the other guest was nude, that I should be, too, I removed my clothing. I entered the bedroom and was pleased to note that someone else was arriving. The tall, thin man standing in the bedroom, now wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, asked me, “And just how did you learn about… this?” I explained how I came by my invitation and as I spoke began to make sense of all the things that didn’t make any sense: the odd start time, the lack of follow-up emails, the lack of party atmosphere, that I was one of first to arrive, and the fact that bottoms were ‘needed’ (bottoms are never needed – there are just too many of us to be needed – tops on the other hand are in high demand).

I’d been duped. This was not a sex party. Turns out a guy on-line had suggested a three-way with the two guys who were at the house when I arrived. They thought I was that third. The fourth guest was also a victim of our internet prankster. He turned out to be someone I had run into frequently at the prairie, and we both laughed at our gullibility. By that point another dude arrived (yet another bottom), at which point our host announced, “Well, I can’t fuck you all.” I dressed, apologized and began to leave. The host asked me if I was ‘uptonking’, my screen name on the hook-up sites I frequent – one I have been using for years. I said, “yes” and left with the other unintended guests. We three bottoms stood at the end of the sidewalk in front of the house and chatted briefly. We were all disappointed, but fortunately for them, they both had other plans. My friend from the prairie told me to come downtown to the Eagle later, but I told him I would probably just head for home.

Several days later, I got an email from the host of the hoax. He told me that he remembers talking with me in the past on-line and would be interested in getting together. He seemed like a decent guy, so I sent him my email address and told him to get in touch with me.

He did. We set up a time. A few days before our play date, he asked me if it would be okay if a friend of his joined us. He included a link to one of the friend’s on-line profiles. I was game. His pics looked very hot. Small in stature, with zero percent body fat and a somewhat muscular build, his handsome face featured a very hot mustache, giving him a tough guy look that was topped off by his shaved head. I was looking forward to a three-way. It had been ages. When it comes to three-ways, I consider myself an equal opportunity enjoyer. I try to make sure that everyone is happy, involved and that everybody goes home having gotten off.

The day before we were to meet, I was on-line at my local coffee shop, tooling around for some dick, when the host of the hoax contacts me via one of the hook-up sites. He wants to know if I’m doing anything at the moment, and if not, would I like to be doing him. Never one to turn down a free meal, I figure what the hell and I am on my way to his house in record time.

As I enter the house I notice that it has been straightened up considerably, though the bedroom is just as sparse as I remembered it. The floors were bare, as were the walls. All it held was a bed, a bed stand, a small computer desk and chair, a computer and a large flat screen television mounted on the wall above the desk. The flat screen is playing a porn tape as I excuse myself to use the restroom. When I come back into the bedroom, the host of the hoax, I’ll call him Red (not his real name), is kneeling in the middle of the bed, watching the porn and playing with his dick. He has what I would call a real football player’s build; solid and manly. Sitting on that bed, he looks so good I just want him to tackle me.

Crawling on all fours, I make my way to the center of the bed and immediately take his dick in my mouth. His dick is average; about 7 inches with an average width. He moans his appreciation as I take him deep in my mouth and then remain there, flexing my throat occasionally. Reaching over my back, he begins to play with my ass, gently probing my hole with his fingers. I move up to kiss him, tentatively. His lips are thinner than mine and when I don’t have a good read on someone’s energy level I find it is best to start tentatively with the kissing and then build.

For some reason I relax into his kiss almost immediately. On his body he has various tats; a couple of tribal bands and a large bear paw. He’s what I consider a hunky guy; maybe even a tad chunky… but definitely a real man type, so I am all for it. He continues to probe my ass with his fingers as we kiss. Our dicks are hard and standing tall, pressed between us, rubbing against our stomachs. My hands find their way down his back to the hot rise of his ass cheeks. As a former total top I appreciate a hot ass… actually any ass. I grab his mounds firmly and then give them a small slap. I’m testing the waters. In this case, if the answer is in his kiss, then the dude definitely likes his ass played with. I slip a hand between his cheeks, always a dicey proposition, but since he just got out of the shower before I got there I am assuming he’s good to go. And he is.

My fingers find his pucker and Red pushes his ass out just a bit as I begin to probe. In a pause between kisses he tells me, “Fuck me.” Well, he’s the host - so he’s the boss. I turn him around with his ass sticking up in the air. Spreading his cheeks, my tongue finds the center and I begin to eat ass like a starving man. Licking deep, probing deeper, I get that mother all wet and slick. Red is loving it and so am I. With every push back from Red, I get a little more amorous with my mouth, sucking on the lips of his hole, only moving back to allow my fingers to do a little probing.

Red hands me the lube as he uncorks the poppers. I want to stay hard, so I decline the poppers, for now. I lube up his ass and my dick, line it up and inch my way in. As soon as I feel the tightness of the ring of his hole relax enough to permit the head of my dick to enter, I take it all the way in nice and smooth and slow. Red’s just recapping the poppers as the tip of my dick hits deep. He lets out a beautiful sigh full of lust and need.

Now I’m in total top mode… and since I don’t want to blow my load until I get some dick up my own ass, I change up my game frequently; pausing, pulling out, jamming in hard, power ramming, then holding still. It’s way fun and Red’s having a hell of a time, too. He’s letting me drive. I grab the sides of his ass and work them like I’m plowing snow and his ass is a big old drift I got work my way through.

After about ten minutes of me as the top, Red tells me he wants my ass. He pulls off my dick, hands me the poppers and turns me around, dicking me pretty much the same way I just did him. He likes to lean over my back and breathe in my ear as he fucks me. I love that. Something about the heat of his breath and the sounds a dude makes from deep within while fucking ass just does it for me big time.

We end up flip flopping back and forth two more times each. In between we kiss, we suck, and I smack his ass just to let him know I think I’m the one in charge (which I am). The poppers are passed back and forth, so is the lube. We seem totally in sync.

I fuck him doggy style one last time, losing it deep inside his ass after a prolonged period of man slamming. As spent as I am, I know he needs to lose his load, too. He asks me to lie perfectly flat on the bed. Lying on top of me, he slides his dick into me and humps me slow and quiet, like we’re school buds experimenting in the middle of the night during a sleepover. The weight of him on top of me feels good. I don’t even need to popper up as my ass is just loving the feel of his slick willy sliding in and out. Red’s breathing in my ear heavy and then softly announces that he’s coming. He grows still and just enjoys the rush of allowing his man batter to spurt forth without any accompanying movement. Just hearing him holding back, as if in pain, makes me squeeze the ring of my ass tight around his dick, pushing him even further over the edge. He rests on top of me. I turn my head and slip him a kiss. He rolls off of me and we cuddle into one another both feeling totally satiated.

We kiss and talk; holding one another. It’s very nice. And the conversation is good, too. Finally, I slip into the bathroom for a quick rinse off. I dress and he walks me to the door for a final kiss. I slip out the front door promising to return the next day.

_ _

Next day, I arrive at the appointed time for my promised three-way. Since I know half of what to expect, I’m not nervous at all. In fact, I’m really eager to play top again. Something about Red’s healthy ass cheeks has me raring to go for another round.

The third party remains somewhat of an unknown. I know his stats (5’ 6”, 130, shaved head), have seen a face pic (fucking cute – the kind of guy that never gives me the time of day) and have been told by Red that his dick is bigger than either of ours (turns out it’s bigger than Red’s, but not mine). I’d been emailing back and forth with this guy (let’s call him Stan – because he looks a little like Eminem, minus the sourpuss scowl) in the days leading up to this event, so I know a few things about him. He is totally versatile and loves arm pits. We share the latter in common, but he tells me, Red always makes him shower away any man scent before they play. Which is fine with me, I like a fresh pit, just as long as there’s no deodorant messing up the fun.

Red comes to the door wearing work out shorts and sporting a big old woody. This is becoming a habit. Grabbing it playfully as I enter, I give him a kiss. Heading back to the bathroom to make sure I’m good to go, I stop to acknowledge the hot little number watching guys fuck on the flat screen in Red’s bedroom. He’s shorter than I expected, sporting a hot goatee and a jock strap. There is not an ounce of body fat on his entire body. Later I find out he actually struggles to keep weight on. Normally this would be enough to make me hate him, but since I plan on plowing his cute little ass as fucking hard as I can in a matter of moments, I decide to take out my rage at the injustice of it all out on his tiny behind.

As I exit the bathroom, Red and Stan are already going at it. Red is lying flat on his back in the middle of the bed and Stan is kneeling between Red’s spread legs, sucking on Red’s cock. Stan’s ass is sort of in the air and it looks so cute. That’s when I get a case of stage fright - as in: I’m not sure how to proceed. How does one enter when the game is already in progress? I don’t want to blunder in and offend someone. That would be a horrible way to begin what I hope to be an afternoon of fun. My apprehension is overruled by the sight of Stan’s ass is in the air. It looks damn tempting. I move closer, and then, as if pulled in by pure gravitational force, I find my mouth stealthily affixed to Stan’s tight little orifice.

His response is a moan of approval and I move in and get down to some serious butt munching. I pause now and again to check out the action in front of me and to press my raging hard on onto the moist crack of Stan’s cute ass. He’s a tiny guy and I want to fuck him in the worst way. There’s something about the size imbalance that brings out the latent dom in me. After slurping away at Stan’s hole for a bit more, I figure now is as good a time as any. I lean over his back and whisper into his ear, “I’m gonna fuck your tight little ass now, pig. And you better fuck back.” Red hands Stan the poppers and me the lube, not that I need it; Stan’s hole is sloppy, wet. I put lube on the tip of my dick only and press it against his hot mess. Grabbing the little dude by the sides of his ass, I gently urge him onto my dick. I decide to let him drive, enjoying the feeling as he inches his way onto my rod. He starts to complain about how thick it is, and that just puts me into true dom mode. Nothing hotter than a cute, skinny, no-body-fat prick tease whining about the width of a fat dick sliding up their faggot hole to make me want to resume control of the reins. I pull Stan onto my dick in one fell swoop and hold him down on it. He squirms and makes a bit of noise, muffled by Red, who immediately places his lips over Stan’s mouth.

With the little whiner mollified, I start a nice, steady pull and release motion, building up the tempo until the front of my thighs are smacking the back of his ass with a severe intensity. As I’m busy power slamming my new playmate, Red manages to slide out from under Stan and moves behind me. I pause long enough to get the notion that I’m about to be stuck in the middle of something I won’t want to get out of. I’m already kneeling on the bed, so it’s an easy move for Red to get up behind me and place his dick firmly against my hole. I just checked my ass in the bathroom, so it is already semi-lubed and that’s apparently enough lube for Red, as he wastes no time spearheading his cock up my shoot.

I wince just a little, and having a dick up my ass has definitely given me pause. Fact: It’s hard to be in the middle of a fuck sandwich. I tried to feel the rhythm that Red was setting up, but what works for me as a bottom, definitely threw my dom top persona off his game. Finally we settle into something. It’s slower than I like and definitely less dramatic than a good old fashion power slam… but it is fun. I just start laughing. I never thought I’d experience something like this. I’m definitely having a good time, but I am experiencing a bit of schizophrenia. That, and, as I’m not use to having a dick up my butt while fucking one, the sensation gets to me fast and I am afraid I will lose me load.

I pull out of Stan, smack his ass hard with my hand, telling him, “I need a break. Go get him.” No need to tell him twice. Red forces me forward onto the bed. Basically he ends up lying on top of me, as Stan moves to impale Red’s ass. That lasts awhile, until I scoot out from under Red, who is taking quite a pounding from Stan. I get on my knees and face Red, getting him up onto his knees so he can suck my dick. I want my cock nice and hard for my next go at Stan’s hole. Once that is accomplished, I move behind Stan and enter him slowly. I pick up on his rhythm right away, and as far as the fuck sandwich goes, this is the best configuration we arrive at. Pretty soon though, it seems like I’m doing all the driving, which is fine with me. Stan pleads mercy; he’s in danger of losing his load. He opts out and I just move forward, right into Reds gaping hole.

Stan kneels in front of Red and makes Red suck his dick. I use this as the perfect opportunity to get to know Stan a little better. Leaning over Red’s back, I deep kiss my new bud. It’s a great kiss and we linger, tasting each other as we simultaneously stuff both Red’s holes. I break from the kiss only long enough to raise Stan’s arm. I dive in for a whiff. It’s fresh and potent. Nice man scent. I take a big whiff and place my mouth on his moist pit, doing to it what I just did to Stan’s ass awhile ago. After a bit, Stan returns the favor. I love it when a dude eats my pits. Nothing sexier. Makes me growl. In short order we we’re kissing one more, until Stan begs off again, afraid that he will lose his load.

The three of us then settle into the most interesting kissing session ever. Two mouths on one mouth, moving around the pile, each of us moving through a kind of rotation. We actually manage something akin to a three-way kiss. It’s a bit awkward, but way fun.

Talk turns to the money shots; who gets whose. Turns out Stan thought I was a total bottom and never expected to get fucked at all. He thought that he and Red were just going to be taking turns tag teaming my ass. Finally we come to the conclusion that since Red is the host, he gets to decide. I get to breed Stan, since he wasn’t expecting it, and then they will both tag team me and make me their total bitch. I don’t bother protesting. It sounds good to me – especially the little whore bottom in me.

I decide to get up and personal with my fuck for Stan. I want him on his back with his little legs up in the air and I want to kiss him deeply and lick his pits as he takes my dick. With such a little dude fucking is always such a joy. Because what you think you will end up doing changes once you get started due to the fact that you can pretty much manipulate their body into any position you want. In the end (pun intended) Stan ends up on all fours and I finish him off doggy style. Sorry, but when I’m in a dom kind of mind frame I just want to pile drive it home. Something about the slapping sound just gets me off. I also enjoy the whole power-thing.

With Stan happily filled, it’s now my turn. Red goes first. He lies down on his back and has me sit on his dick. I like this position a lot, because – again – basically I’m the one in control. I can take it as slow or as hard as I like. Being so tall, it’s a little awkward, but once I manage to get my feet out in front of me and onto the surface of the bed, I’m in heaven. In that crouched position I have a lot of flexibility and the ability to change up the action any way it suits me.

Red and I are having a good time. I pause now and again to lean over and give him a kiss of appreciation. I know there are a lot of size queens who will disagree, but being plugged by an average cock has its advantages. First you don’t get sore as quickly and secondly, it gives you the opportunity to actually tighten up your hole around that love muscle – which from the reaction it gets, is something a top really appreciates.

With my body hovering over Red, Stan decides he wants some action, too. He gets behind me and my spidey-senses start to tingle. He’s thinking double penetration and I’m thinking no fucking way. Not that either guy is that huge, but my ass is not made for that. It’s not so much that it wouldn’t eventually work, but I fear the damage that would be done in the process of getting an additional dick up there. Now I could be wrong, but as we’ve been playing for over an hour and I just decide to err on the side of caution.

Not that I had to make a big scene about it, because Red fires out a load just at that time. As Red slides out, Stan pushes me forward and enters from the rear. He’s pretty determined to do to me what I just did to him. I love doggy style and actually like fucking back on a dick in that position. But Stan wants to prove something. He grabs me by the shoulders and starts slamming my ass with a short, fast pumping action. I arch my back up and soon the head of his dick is hitting the insides of my ass just right. I turn around and give my little buddy a kiss of appreciation. This position and the way his dick is hitting is getting me off. Fuck, I’m hard again and damn if I don’t fire off a second load without once touching my dick. This seems to happen anytime someone massages my prostate just right – and Stan is the man in this case. Having warned him that I was going to shoot, Stan lets go of his load at the same time – kind of in one end and out the other.

As Stan and I fall into a heaving, panting pile, Red joins us, commenting on how hot that was to witness. The three of us again begin kissing one another, but we are all pretty spent. Stan is the first to rise. I admire his zero percent body fat body one more time as I curl into Red’s much more substantial one. I don’t want to leave the warmth, but the party is indeed over.

I make my way to the shower. As I linger under the hot spray, my body is still reliving the experience. I’m toweling off when Stan sticks his head in and says good-bye, promising to stay in touch. Later he emails me that he really would like to hook-up one-on-one some time.

Dressed and standing at the door, ready to leave, I give our host one last kiss. We already have another play date planned for the next week and I am looking forward to it. It’s nice to just relax and be naked with a dude. Don’t get me wrong, a quick fuck is always welcome, but actually taking some time to get to know somebody’s body and mind? Well that’s a whole ‘nother level of hot.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

How Do You Solve A Problem Like... Uganda?

Remember Uganda? Idi Amin? Always a hotspot of corruption and human rights violations? Well, they’re at it again. This time they are looking to pass legislation that would result in the jailing and execution of gay people. Something tells me tourism is not a big industry in that country.

The proposed bill would ask for the execution of HIV positive gay people. It asks for life in prison for all gay people. If you know of someone who is gay and failed to report them – you get seven to three years in prison.

Note: On 12/10/09: A. Larry Ross, the Ugandan Ethics Minister announced that life in prison and the death penalty are now no longer part of the bill. Still part of the bill? Seven years if caught attempting to commit a homosexual act and three years if you know of a homosexual and do not report them.

Wait. It gets better.

Pastor Rick Warren – you know, the guy who swore in President Obama? Rick Warren – author of A Purpose Driven Life? The guy who also believes there is a secret coven of witches living under Lake Victoria? Turns out he was good friends (until October 2009) with the man who sponsors this bill (Pastor Martin Ssempa). Ssempa has been a special guest speaker at Warren’s mega church numerous times. Warren claims to have cut all ties, but will not go so far as to actually condemn the legislation. That’s because Pastor Rick believes that homosexuals are going to take over the world and, well, he hates gays. How’s that for Christian love? He’s pretty up front about it, too, you know in that slimy doublespeak that passes for an answer to a direct question kind of way. Warren’s life does indeed seem to be purpose driven. But I don’t think God, as I understand God, would approve.

Note: On 12/10/09: Pastor Rick Warren publicly spoke out against the Ugandan “gay death bill”, terming it “unjust, extreme and un- Christian.” He has gone public in the hopes of serving as a shepherd to other pastors who look to him for guidance. He now says that he never supported the bill or anyone associated with it.

Wait. Even better.

PEPFAR (U.S. President’s Emergency Program for AIDS Relief) monies actually went to Ugandan organizations with ties to Ssempa and the other sponsors of this bill. Those monies are helping drive this bill into law. This is Uganda’s answer to the AIDS crisis; kill and jail all gay people. They also received monies from the United Nation’s Global Fund in the fight against AIDS, Malaria and Tuberculosis. Trust me, they aren’t buying condoms. That money is tied up in this bill, as well. No one seems to know why or how those organizations got those monies – or at least no will admit to knowing how. But it happened.

I’m saddened to say that President Obama has not spoken out against the bill. I’m saddened to say that Hillary Clinton has only paid fleeting lip service to the issue, echoing the U.N.’s statement regarding the danger of excluding marginalized groups. Kind of a ting of a single triangle in the back of the orchestra when what you really need and expect is a full brass band assault.

I’m disappointed that the media isn’t making more of it. Maybe they’re waiting to see if the bill passes? Then perhaps it will be newsworthy. But by then… well, in my eyes, by then it will be too late. Which reminds me of another historic moment when nobody said anything or did anything until it was much too late.

Nazi Germany.

We waited too long there. Why? Did they think it was going to get better? Did they think it was going to go away?

Well, we now know, from history, that things like this tend only to get worse. People who live and breath hate? Reason generally does not reverberate in their world. Logic is a foreign language to them. Hate breeds only more hate.

So I’m troubled. And saddened. And disappointed.

Obama tells gays that currently there are more pressing issues that affect all Americans and those take the front seat of the bus. Economic recovery takes precedence over gay rights. I understand that. He can only fight so many dragons at once. Even mentioning a controversial issue like gay marriage could prove detrimental to those irons currently in the fire; issues that deal with matters that impact the lives of not only gay people, but pretty much anyone who does not make over 100K a year.

Still… I’m disappointed in Obama’s performance so far. I’m not feeling the revolution promised. I’m not seeing even a whisper of change. I see same old – same old. I’m seeing business as usual. See… when you purposely don’t talk about something on a regular basis and refer to and deal with a given issue as a problem issue? That’s when it becomes a real problem. And it remains that way – taking root in the minds of people until one day those people only view anything that touches upon that issue as part of a bigger problem - an unsolvable problem. Like abortion. And gay rights. The only way to reverse that? Talk about it. On a regular basis. As if it is part of the fabric of our lives. Problem issues should not be treated like malformed, genetically deficient children that we stick in the attic and never talk about. Shame breeds shame. It also leads to the demonization of segments of our society.

We know Obama will never talk about gay marriage, because he does not believe in gay marriage. Obama has always been for civil unions only. I understand his position – it’s a well thought out, very safe one. It’s his way of winning over the gays without giving the religious right too much more to be upset about.

And now is not the time for him to talk about divisive issues, blah, blah, blah. I get that.

But not speaking out against what’s going on in Uganda? That? I don’t get.

If Obama had an opportunity to have spoken out against Nazi Germany before the concentration camps started gassing people and death became an everyday occurrence, I believe he would have done it.

Hello? Obama? It’s Uganda calling. Will you take the call?

Well… I’m waiting.

Friday, December 04, 2009

Best Music of 2009, As Seen From the Bottom of a Rabbit Hole

So last Friday, I failed to post anything. I’d like to tell you that it was due to the Thanksgiving holiday, but the fact is I’m working my way through something and felt absolutely stymied. I was in the process of writing yet another true sex tale, but my heart was not in it. That’s because my heart and head are preoccupied with a bigger issue, one which I am still working my way through. Yes, I’ve been doing some flip flopping, and not just in bed.

The title of this blog is Wonderland Burlesque. The Wonderland represents the Alice in me, and in my current situation, it succinctly represents what it feels like to fall down the rabbit hole (oh, well, at least it's not a K-Hole). That is the nature of a quandary, and I am grappling with one that keeps morphing every time I sit down to write it all out. Just when I think I have a handle on it, some new fly in the ointment appears. So I’m still in the rabbit hole and I may just stay here a great while longer than I had hoped. I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime: I will do what I always do when my passion for one aspect of my life is disrupted; I will focus on another – music.

Here is a run down of some the music that mattered to me in 2009. It’s a list that kind of focuses on the last half of the year, so there’s a bunch of stuff missing. For what it’s worth, here it is. I may add more later. Enjoy.

Best CD of 2009:

Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix – Phoenix
This French band with its 1980’s new wave style obsessions captured my ears over and over again this year. And now even the good people at Cadillac are in on the scoop, using it in their most recent ad campaign for one of their overpriced dream machines – a Madison Avenue application that is pretty apt, since Phoenix spends most of their time operating like a dream machine on the ten sleek tracks that grace this CD. Roxy Music never ran so smoothly. For me, Fences remains the stand out cut, but there really isn’t a weak one in the bunch. They seemed to have hit the right chord in a year that was filled to the brim with acts mining a similar sound, but for my money – Phoenix takes the prize.

Maybe I was obsessed with 1980’s new wave style acts this year. Vintage synth bleeps and blurps seemed to dominate my play list. Runners Up for best CD (in no particular order):

Ocean Eyes - Owl City
Owatonna, MN has never been so cool. This CD burbles and burps like a super charged can of Fresca time warped from the late 70’s. Fireflies is an absolute delightful wonder and one of the best singles of the year. Flash in the pan? One hit wonder? Possibly. Yes, the CD is syrupy sweet, even bordering on the insipid, but Adam Young is a very clever man and a talented arranger. My advice to him: dig deeper.

The Fame - Lady Gaga
I love punchy pop nonsense. Can’t get enough of it. It’s a guilty pleasure and this CD is so stuffed with it I can’t imagine the number of Hail Mary’s I would have to say in order to be granted forgiveness. But the penance paid is so worth the price of admission. The hits bounced off this thing and landed so soundly on the charts that everyone has been exposed to the lunacy that is Gaga. The Madonna comparisons? I don’t get. Sure, she’s scrappy, clever and danceable, but so far Lady Gaga has yet to establish much of a personality. Image? Yes. Personality? No. All the costumes and marketing savvy can’t hide the chinks in her armor. There is something lacking. Even so, Bad Romance – from her newly released The Fame Monster is playing over and over again in my head. But I am thinking this stuff has a limited shelf life (like a lot of the really fun music from the 1980’s) and when I get over it, I probably won’t be revisiting it.

Manners - Passion Pit
If Adam Young of Owl City needs a push in the right direction, I am thinking this is the CD he should spend some time with. Passion Pit does a great job of balancing the ear candy by coloring it with something a little deeper. Granted, you have to really like falsetto vocals to enjoy this one, but one listen to the pulsing rhythm that powers The Reeling and I think you will succumb to their charms.

The Boy Who Knew Too Much - MIKA
Life in Cartoon Motion was great. The Boy Who Knew Too Much is better. Yes, there’s something very adolescent, goofy and juvenile about the whole affair, but it’s all rather charming. It’s refreshing in its goofiness, taking hold of your senses the same way Dean Friedman did once with Ariel. The hooks abound. There’s enough ear candy here to feed a nation of Willie Wonka golden ticket holders.

Best Singles of 2009
This was the year when 1970’s sunshine and recession infused fun returned to the charts, minus the icky aftertaste of exploitive media drama queens and gimmicky, fake rap violence.

Fireflies – Owl City
Funhouse – P!nk

Bulletproof - La Roux
Evacuate the Dance Floor – Cascada

Zero - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Love, Etc. - Pet Shop Boys
Wild Young Hearts - Noisettes
Good Girls Go Bad - Cobra Starship
Panic Switch - Silversun Pickups
Already Gone / My Life Would Suck Without You - Kelly Clarkson
Just Dance / Paparazzi / Poker Face / Bad Romance / Telephone – Lady Gaga

Be Alright / Love is the Look - Kristine W.

And one that should have been a huge hit:
Never Gonna Break Up - Ryan Leslie
I remember where I was the first time I heard Hang on to Your Love by Sade. I will always remember where I was the first time I heard this song. Icy and hot with a groove that makes me want to nestle in closer and get real, real comfortable. A deep kiss that lingers long.

Shout Outs:
The Resistance – Muse

Swoon - Silversun Pickups
Day & Age – The Killers (2008)

Transition - Ryan Leslie

Guilty, Guilty Pleasures:
All I Ever Wanted – Kelly Clarkson
Funhouse - P!nk (2008)
Katy Perry – One of the Boys (2008)

The Very Worst CDs:

Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel – Mariah Carey
My favorite musical blow-up sex doll/punching bag got propped up yet again this year in order to fill the coffers of Def Jam. Unfortunately the backdrop features nothing but tired beats, milquetoast production and banal, sophomoric lyrics. Part of the problem, of course, is Mariah herself. No, I’m not referring to her non-existent voice (I bid farewell to her phenomenal vocal chops pre-Butterfly). I am referring to her desire to take control of the musical reins – a really, really bad idea. A large breasted plastic doll needs a lot of bells and whistles to create some excitement and drum up interest in this particular clotted market. A Mariah who is not being handled by someone with a firm vision is a Mariah who bores the fuck out of me.

Whitney Houston – I Look to You
Poor, Whitney. She flew back into the market with all the grace of a one-eyed, one-legged, one winged albatross. It was fascinating to watch. But push aside the embarrassing televised live vocal debacles and the squirm-inducing, ill-advised one-on-one interviews (Oprah! Yes, there is a reason you need to retire, girl!) and what remains is the comeback of the year CD that wasn’t. WTF? Filled with syrupy redemption treacle and mid-tempo, hook-deprived pop/hip-hop-lite sludge, Houston and Clive delivered one of the most colorless, lifeless, and boring CDs to ever see the light of day. This is a new, all-time low for Houston – and that is saying a lot if you remember her third CD, I’m Your Baby Tonight. She needed to comeback all vital and blazing hot, not enter politely and hand the world a Hallmark card. There’s not a drop of humor or genuineness to be found throughout the whole of this bland ordeal, which results in a piece of product so dull it barely registers at all. Whitney had a voice. Period. She was never a personality (unless you count crack-addled Whitney) and she has always been one of the worst performers live, ever (so stiff you’d think she was made of wood). But she used to be able to deliver the occasional sonic gem when properly packaged and handled (I loved almost all of My Love is Your Love). It all makes me yearn for the crack whore of yore. At least we caught a glimpse of a flesh and blood Whitney every time she’d bellow “Bah-Baaaaaaaayyyyy”. She looks to you? If I were you, I would just stare at your feet and hope she goes away.

Biggest Disappointment:

The Power of Music – Kristine W.
I love Kristine W. Buy every damn thing she puts out. Petition dance stations to put her stuff into rotation. Waited a lifetime for this one to come out. After the incredible, awe-inspiring heights reached on Fly Again, Power is something of a let down, to say the least. Sure, the dance floor burners are still in attendance and consistently hitting the top of the dance charts (Never, The Boss, Love Is The Look, Be Alright), but the remainder leaves me cold and reaching for the fast forward button. Nothing encapsulates what is wrong with this CD more than the truly cringe-inducing Not-So Merry-Go-Round – a song so poorly conceived, produced and delivered that had it come out in 1972 (the year of treacle and sap), people would still have gone into diabetic shock. Next single is the title track, featuring a lame rap by Big Daddy Kane and belatedly dedicated to Michael Jackson. Kristine? Honey? I’m sorry. It pains me to say this, but this is where I may need to get off the bus. Love you.

Artists I Will Never Listen To:

Miley Cyrus
Taylor Swift

Sorry. I just don’t care. I don’t get it. Never will. It’s not for me (nor was it ever intended to be for me). And does anybody else find Justin Bieber creepier than fuck?

Until next time...

Friday, November 20, 2009

Autumn Leaves...

In the past I’ve written about my love for the great outdoors. With the falling of the leaves and the sun still continuing to shine, I thought I would share an autumn anecdote that has been on my mind a lot recently.

I’m pretty diverse when it comes to the type of guys I find attractive. While I don’t have a type, I do have types that consistently sexual resonate with my being. Some of these types are pretty out there. One such example is my penchant for holistic new-agers. Basically these are whole-grain children of the earth types, prone to wearing patchouli or some other essential oil. They refrain from traditional consumerism, eat whole foods, wear sandals at inappropriate times, allow their hair to grow at least shoulder length, and are in tune to the positions of the sun and moon. Sometimes they are associated with Wiccans or claim to be ‘radical faeries’, all of which translates to: likes to be naked in the woods and have sex in the great outdoors. So I guess it was only a matter of time before they became one of my go-to groups for people who love the outdoors as much as I do and in the way that I do.

About five years ago I began seeing this guy I will call Marcus (not his real name). Marcus, at that time, was rehabbing houses. He, or an investor, would purchase a house in need of some major TLC and Marcus would move into the house, living there as he renovated the property. Marcus was about 5’11”. His body was not well-defined (in fact there was an asexual softness to it that I found rather appealing), but he was thin. He had large, thoughtful hazel eyes and a mop-full of dark auburn hair that fell to his shoulders. His face fell into that sweet Robby Benson look, although Marcus’ was less angular. He had no body hair, save for a forest of dark pubes, a strip of dark hair in the center of his chest and sporadic hairs on his ass and legs. His penis was so average in length and width that, other than serving the purpose, it really didn’t have much of an impact on our trysts. I remember being a bit infatuated with his ass due to his soft skin and with his dark nipples.

We hooked up on and off for about two years. He was one of those people with whom I had some strange, demonic sexual connection with. Out of the sack we were sweet and gentle with one another, conducting a tentative, almost old-fashioned style of courtship. We stimulated each other intellectually and shared a lot of our philosophical bent with each other. But once the clothes came off it was all very animal, our mouths tearing at each other, mauling whatever body part they happened upon. The intensity always built to a moment of wild frenzy and abandonment, leaving us both mere puddles of spent sweat and semen. We were attracted to each other’s natural body scent (his was rather spicy, like cloves) and this only heightened the all-consuming fucking that would take place whenever we got together.

Marcus was very Omni-sexual. Which, due to his rather reserved, bookish persona, is something one would never guess – but then, I have found that it is always those you least suspect that you really should suspect. In the past we had both been with women, but now expressed a clear preference for men. We met at the height of my versatile stage, which suited him just fine. It was not uncommon for us to flip fuck back and forth multiple times during the course of a single play date.

There was a definite hippy vibe to our get-togethers. Adding to this; the houses he lived in, with their varying states of decay and reclamation infused with incense. Getting naked with him frequently felt like a tribal rite. Never was this truer than the time we decided to explore our love for the great outdoors after dusk on the Autumn Equinox.

We’re chatting on-line. I’m telling him how I regret not getting away during the summer months to go camping. In fact, if I remember correctly, due to time commitments that took precedence over everything else, that summer offered very few opportunities to get outside and indulge my natural proclivities. He mentions that the Autumn Equinox will be coming up and how he’s very excited because it also happened to fall on the night of a full moon. The weather that fall had been balmy and sweet with only a hint of dampness. The leaves were on the ground, for the most part, and the air held that wonderful smell of decay kissed with sunshine. He suggests we get together and take advantage of the warmer weather and the full moon. I’m totally game.

We decide on a location; a hill surrounded in trees that had two concrete picnic tables. I know it very well and also happen to know that it was covered in a thick blanket of leaves, the kind of leaves that are fun to roll around in. The set-up was simple. I arrive ahead of him, strip nude and pose on all fours on the picnic table with my ass in the air.

The night arrives and the weather could not be better. Well, it could have, actually… it could have been spring or summer, but when the calendar winds down to September, I take what I can get. I cleared my evening, so arriving ahead of time was no problem. I parked my car, checked my supplies (lube, condoms, cock ring, poppers) and made my way toward the hill.

There is one consistent truth to keep in mind when selecting a spot for sex in the great outdoors; it always appears to be more covered by brush, trees and shrubs in your mind than in reality. It’s late dusk as I trudge up the hill. The leaves lay thick and make a great deal of noise as I wade through them. The closer I get to the top the more unsure I become that this is a good idea. It just seems so exposed, especially now that the trees have lost most of their leaves. But then I recount the many times I have stood on that very hill for hours without ever seeing a soul, so I relax. A bit.

I guess I didn’t realize how autumn it was until I start to remove my clothes. Suddenly I wish I knew exactly what time it was, because I really did not want to pose there naked, getting chilled, while I wait for Marcus to appear. It’s rapidly getting dark, but the full moon lends a lot of light to the hilltop. Also my eyes are adjusting with the coming darkness, so being able to see turns out to be not much of a concern.

I lay a beach towel over the top of the picnic table and set my supplies on its far end. I remove my jacket and my shoes, and loosen my pants. That was far enough. While I do not doubt for a moment that Marcus will show, I’m not in love with the idea of getting chilled. My heart is beating a mile a minute. I take a moment to breathe deeply and enjoy the night air. It serves as a reminder of just how amazing and magical this time of year can feel.

Near the bottom of the hill I hear the sound of someone walking through the leaves. There’s no way I can be certain it’s Marcus, but I decide to just go for it and assume that it is. I strip off my jeans, sweater and t-shirt. I debate leaving on my socks, but think better of it. I whip them off and get into position. The sound of the rustling leaves grows louder signaling that whoever is coming up that hill is getting mighty close. I uncork my bottle of poppers and take a deep pull. Suddenly it grows very quiet. Is it him? Someone else? Are they freaking out? Am I?

I feel a pair of hands spread my ass cheeks apart followed by a big sloppy kiss on my hole. Reaching between my legs, he takes my dick in his hand and begins to stroke me as he eats my ass. I reach back and spread my cheeks, allowing him maximum access. His tongue feels fat and hot as it explores my hole.

He pulls my knees to the edge of table, and then leaving my hole, travels down to the tip of my dick. Taking just the tip of it in his mouth, he suckles it like a calf at his mother’s teat. Twisting around, he rests the back of his neck on the end of the table and takes me deeper into his mouth. I begin to deep fuck his throat, making him gag and choke. It feels awesome, powerful. Each thrust brings me closer to an edge I had hoped to put off until much later. Nearing my get-off point, I pull my dick from his mouth, get off my knees and sit on the side of the table. Marcus moves to in front of me. He’s totally nude. The moonlight makes his pale body glow. I spread my legs and he moves into me. We kiss, deeply, our mouths hungry for each others. Circling his waist with my legs, I press my raging hard on into his abdomen. He angles me back and touches my hole with his fuck stick. It would be so easy to just sink onto that fucker and let him have my ass right then and there… but I keep in mind that we had lots of leaves to roll around in.

And we do. He moves me from the table and lays me down in a pile of leaves. Then, laying on top me, our hard dicks grinding into one another’s, he covers us with leaves. The smell is intoxicating, the dampness contrasting sharply with the heat our bodies are generating. We lay there, nut fucking each other, our mouths sucking the breath out of each others lungs. Any notion of being discovered is completely forgotten as we give into our baser needs.

I move down the length of his body, my mouth never leaving its surface until I come to his dick. In one fell swoop, I easily swallow it, deep throating it for all I was worth. His moans tell me I’m on the right track. Frantically, he reaches for my lower half, pulling it towards his face; he wants my dick in his mouth pronto. We relax, on our sides, into a simple 69, allowing me time to take note of the leaves, the sky, the moon, the darkness. My mouth works its way towards his ass, paying more than lip service to his balls on the way. By this point I’m on top of him, pulling his legs up and back so I can really service his hole. Diving in with great relish and verve, I simultaneously position my ass over his mouth and begin pushing back. We spend the next five minutes alternating between deep throating dick and eating ass. Stopping, he indicates that he’s getting close and needs a little break. I turn around and stretch my body next to his, cradling his head on my chest, my arm circling behind his head, allowing me to tweak his right nipple.

He looks up at me. Kisses become tentative and sweet. His mouth moves to my right nip and then slips down into my arm pit, where he pauses to inhale deeply. My natural musk reawakens the animal in him and suddenly he’s on top, straddling my body, holding my arms over my head. He moves his mouth from one arm pit to the other, sucking deep, savoring my man sweat. My entire body is bucking beneath him. I have the sudden urge to fuck something hard and deep. I force his ass down and hold it on my dick, its length riding up the crack of his ass and pressing repeatedly at his hole. Knock, knock, knock… is anybody home? Again, it would be so easy to just force my way in and seed that hole the way nature intended, but reason wins out. We break apart. I scramble for the condoms, the lube and my poppers. When I get back, he’s about to stand, but I have other plans.

I force him to the ground and then upright him so he’s on all fours. I push apart the cheeks of his ass and bury my tongue as far as I can. That’s right, Motherfucker. I’m going first. I tear the foil from the condom and in the midst of my excitement, manage to lose sight of the poppers and the lube. But first, the condom. I roll it on as quickly as possible and then, cursing, I push around in the leaves in search of the lube. My hand finds the poppers first. I hand them Marcus and resume my search, but Marcus isn’t having it. He turns around and takes my wrapped member in his mouth, wetting the condom. “Mmmm… cherry,” he says with a smile. Once he’s sufficiently slicked up my rod, he resumes his position, his ass pointing in the air. Again I spread his cheeks and slobber up his hole as Marcus takes a massive hit of poppers. Poised to enter, I have second thoughts. His ass is so tight, we really need that lube. I lean backwards and as I do so my hand just happens to land on the tube of lube! “Fuck, yeah,” I say. I guess the stars are aligned tonight after all.

I work a gob of lube on my dick and his hole and line up the shot. Marcus hits the poppers again. Just the sound of it makes my head spin. The tip of my dick gently probes his aching pucker. I decide to make a game of it. What I really want is for him to decide when he wants me to enter; I want him to push his hole onto my dick because he needs it bad. I continue to tease him, but everytime the head of my dick begins to open him up I take my hands off his hips. Finally he gets the message. It feels fucking meaty as he eases himself onto my dick, experiencing the spread of the lips of his ass as he works himself down my shaft. He’s about midway when I decide I just can’t take it anymore. I slam that puppy home, leaving Marcus no choice but to take yet another it of poppers. I begin pounding his ass like a beast, pulling him onto my dick. Marcus utters a staccato moan that matches my every thrust. A small breeze wafts by and I am feeling like superman. After a bit I decide to let Marcus drive, and he doesn’t lose a beat. I love it when a dude fucks back on my dick doggy-style. Unfortunately, because I have a condom on, I begin to lose sensation and while no where near being ready to cum, I am also starting to lose my hard on. I pull out of Marcus and toss the condom. Marcus whips around and takes my dick into his mouth. I lean over his back and finger his freshly fucked hole, occasionally giving that fine white ass a smack or two.

Marcus rears up and his lips find my mouth. He curls into me and I wrap my arms around him as tight as I can. The man just feels so good. And he smells good, too. Very animal. I loosen my grip and raise his arm nearest to me into the air above his head. Leaning down, I place my face firmly in the center of that pit and begin to eat at it like it is a ripe slice of melon. Ahhh, man funk! Better than poppers! I luxuriate in the moistness and manliness of his scent. I want to be consumed by it.

I lay Marcus on his back, placing both his arms above his head as I straddle his torso. I ease my ass back until his meat is pressed firmly on my hole. I tease him with it, varying the pressure, weight and cadence. Now it’s his turn to want me in a different way. I hold down his arms and work my mouth on the pit left unserviced. Marcus is making little noises and squirming just a bit, but to no avail as I am in complete control. See, that is something else I like about these pseudo-hippie chick guys; they really get into being dominated (despite the occasional protestation) and they bring out the dom in me.

I let up on his arm pits and kiss him deeply. The funk of his pits is all over my muzzle and I love forcing him to taste himself. Marcus is moving his hips up to meet my ass and I take that as a sign that he’s ready for me.

If it finding the condoms was a problem before then this time it is a total mood breaker. It is now completely dark and I only have a hint of where the condoms and lube may be. I climb off of Marcus and begin weeding my way through the leaves. I’m on all fours as my hands just happen upon the lube. One down. Marcus hands me the poppers and moves off into the darkness. He comes back with a small backpack and begins to tear through its contents in search of a rubber. Thankfully, he doesn’t come up short. He rushes back, lies down and puts the condom on. “All aboard,” he winks. Relieved, I crawl over to him and do as suggested. I lube up my ass and his dick. Taking a hit of poppers, I ease my way on to his cock. Marcus’ cock is very average, but effective none-the-less. Once I’m fully situated, I let Marcus do the driving. His thrusts are very gentle at first and he feels wonderful slowly sliding in and out of my slicked up hole. I lean over and kiss him deeply. Suddenly the still of the night surrounds us, the city vanishes and it feels as if we are in the middle of nowhere. We take our time and build the momentum. Before long I’m pumping my ass up and down, hitting it hard. Marcus moves me onto my back and forces my legs up into the air. Now he’s the one in control. Marcus holds my legs in the air, slamming my ass with great force repeatedly. The sound of flesh striking flesh echoes around us.

Suddenly, Marcus whips off the condom and shoots his load all over my stomach and dick. For an average dick, it sure holds one hell of a load. When done, panting, he leans back, still on his knees. I get up on my knees and cozy into him. Using his cum as lube I begin to jerk my dick, holding it very close to his chest. We’re kissing and he’s murmuring words of encouragement as I cum all over his chest. The smell drives Marcus into more of a frenzy. He forces me onto my back once again and lies on top of me, kissing me, humping me, mixing our juices together. We are one sweaty, dirty mess.

But then the quiet of the evening consumes us once more. Our bodies still, our breathing heavy. The heat between us and our frantic activity have kept us clueless of just how chilly the air has become. Giddy and laughing we scramble to find our clothes and dress quickly. Bits of leaves, twigs and dirt are stuck to our bodies, but neither of us is complaining. I don’t know if its part of my post poppers high or due to all that activity, but we keep giggling until we are fully clothed and seated on top of the picnic table, side by side.

We kiss and burrow into one another again. Looking up to the sky I am in awe of the night sky and how beautiful the moon appears. Part of me wants to stay here forever. But another part of me is all too aware of how cold my nose has become. I hold Marcus close to me and squeeze his body hard in an effort to make some type of lasting impression. But it’s to no avail. Reality beckons. Marcus retrieves his backpack as I search about for the items I brought with me.

I never find that errant condom.

I suppose some squirrel will find it.

Silently, we bid the moon good-night and walk down the hill.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Once Upon A Mid-Winter Dreary or Twinky the Kid Cums to the Rescue

With the winter months threatening to descend upon us at any time, I thought it would be fun to recall one of the odder situations I got myself into during my search for a hot cock during the long, boring months of chilly weather here in Minneapolis. This one sprang (no pun intended) to mind immediately, so I thought I would share it with you this week.

It was the end of another work day. As I was checking over what was still left to be done and what could wait until tomorrow to finish, my mind turned to thoughts of unbridled horniness. In the locker room at my gym that morning I’d sprung a boner both pre and post workout. And while I am not above rubbing one out in showers or in front of the full length mirrors that cover the walls (as long as no one else is around), I kept thinking I should put my hard-on to better use.

It was the middle of winter, and though I had been having consistent good luck snagging dick in the parking lot of a nearby cruising park, I was bored with the idea of sitting in a cold car until someone else happened along so I could suck them off. What I really wanted was a big dick shoved up my ass as I took a deep drag off a fresh bottle of poppers.

So I decided to check out Craigslist. This was before the IT department where I worked recognized the den of illicit pleasure Craigslist can hold for lusty, promotion-deprived males and blocked it. (Actually, I just noticed you can still get in.) That day I had no trouble clicking through the various sexually explicit, though frequently poorly written ads that populated the M4M section.

But what kind of fun was I looking for?

No strings attached is what I like. I’d also recently developed a craving for anonymous encounters. Also I was missing the days when I worked downtown Minneapolis where the skyways offered a bevy of potential sperm donors and anonymous couplings. An ad caught my eye and I clicked on it. The headline had something to do with anonymous public encounters and that seemed to fit my ticket to a ‘T’.

The dude looking was in his mid-twenties, blonde hair, a very slim build, smooth and about 5’10”. No pics, just a description. He was looking for someone to meet him in the mens room at a local shopping mall where he would like to fuck a nice piece of ass. He had pics for trade and would like this to happen sooner than later.

Granted he was a little on the young side for me, but there are not a lot of guys into this type of scene, so I thought, what the hell and sent him an email with my detailed stats and a couple of recent body shots of myself. Apparently he liked what he read and saw, because I got an immediate response. We emailed back and forth for about half an hour, during which he spelled out in detail the type of encounter he was looking for.

In his ad he had suggested a certain mall. I told him I could do that. Then he changed his mind and decided that another mall would work better. That was fine with me, too, because that mall was even closer and I was totally familiar with it. It had a mens room I had played in before. He then suggested that we go to the mens casual section of a large department store in that mall. I was to go into a fitting room, strip and leave the door unlocked so he could walk in and fuck me. He wanted it to be fast and furious. I told him I didn’t think that was a good idea, because I was pretty sure they would have security cameras in the fitting rooms checking for shoplifters. The idea of being arrested did not appeal to me. Finally we decided to meet up in the main restroom of the mall.

He asked if I had a jock strap to wear or some bikini briefs that I could cut a hole in the back end. He wanted me to arrive, strip naked in the handicap stall by a certain time. At a certain time he wanted me to come out of the stall naked as he entered the mens room. That way he would walk in on me parading my naked self. My bullshit detector went off, so I told him if he wanted this to happen it was time he sent me some pics.

He did. They did not feature his face, just his body and dick. Everything was exactly as described. He was a rail thin, smooth, white dude. A total twink. Not my thing at all, but he did have that thing that is my thing… a big fucking hard cock. It curved up very nicely and the head rested a full inch above his navel. It appeared to be nicely thick, too. Again, I thought, what the hell – this could be fun.

Finally we carved his rather elaborate plans down to something I thought we might be able to pull off without too much risk of getting cuffed by the cops. We set a time and I told him I had to get off-line and clean up. I wanted to arrive at the mall with a little wiggle room just in case things weren't as I remembered. I got off-line and got to work.

First order was cleaning out my ass. Now it had already been a very long winter, so I had this whole douching at work thing down pat. I had my favorite stall on a certain floor and my method, while not 100% foolproof, generally yielded the desired results. My next goal was to get my list of props together. I always have my sex kit with me, so poppers, lube, cock ring and condoms? No problem. I decided to take my gym bag, because I wanted to change into my white tube socks and gym shoes. Why? Because black dress socks, shiny dress shoes and bikini underwear are not something that I find very sexy on myself (even with the hole cut out in the ass). And besides, it would offer me the perfect cover story. If some nosy security guard should ask why I was in the handicap stall in my underwear I could just tell them I was changing into my running clothes to go for a run.

The next challenge: bikini underwear. The Total Twink and I had decided on bikini briefs and he wanted a hole cut in the bottom of them so he could fuck me through it. I was to be lubed, ready and bent over the toilet when he entered (pun intended) my stall. The idea of getting fucked through a hole in my underwear totally intrigued me. I’d never done it before and if there is one thing I love to do when it comes to sex it’s something that I've never done before.

Now you would think that the underwear might be an issue, especially since I always wear boxer briefs (except when I wear a jock or go commando). But, as luck would have it, the previous week, as I was leaving the locker room my eyes caught a glimpse of something trashy draped over the lip of the lost and found bin. I must confess, I have this thing for other people’s underwear. I think it comes from high school, when the lure of another dude’s jock strap hanging in his locker sometimes got the better of me. When I would baby sit I would also go through the dad’s underwear drawer, just to see what he was sporting (but only if I found him attractive). Not that I have an underwear fetish or anything. It just happens to be one of those crimes of opportunities that… well, just happen. I never steal them. Though there were lots of times in high school when I remember stealing into the locker room, stripping naked and borrowing one or two (or three, or…) without asking. I just tried them on. I never stole them.

The underwear was just sitting in that bin and no one else was around. I walked over to check them out. They were cotton bikini underwear in this really ugly shade of red. Actually, it appeared that they had once upon a time been red, but due to a healthy dose of bleach, they now looked considerably less so. But they were clean. The smell of dryer sheet absolutely vibrated off them (I have a sensitive nose). They were also just about my size, so I thought… why not? They may come in handy. I shoved them in my gym bag and washed them that weekend with the rest of my gym clothes. I then repacked them in a little side pocket of my gym bag. I figured they would serve as my just-in-case pair; just in case some big-dicked twink wanted to fuck my ass through them at the mensroom of the local mall.

I cut a hole in the bottom of the briefs. It was about the size of a fifty cent piece. I decided I would leave my coat and gloves in the car… the less to carry the better. I would keep on my b-ball cap. That would only add to the illusion that I was there to go running.

I arrived at the mall fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. My heart was racing as I began to double check and coordinate all the necessary gear. Logistics involved for these types of scenes are always complicated and I knew better than to go into it without having counted my chickens at least twice. I slipped into the mall, found the hallway that led to the mensroom and pushed the door open.

Okay, so this mensroom had definitely seen better days. I knew the mall had fallen on hard times, but this seemed a little out of hand. It reeked of stale urine and some faintly sweet disinfectant. For some, that may be a turn on, but not me. There was evidence that at some point the walls had been tagged, though whatever had been spray painted had since been painted over or scrubbed off. The place gave off a vibe of uncleanliness and this was confirmed once I reached the handicap stall.

The set up of the room was like walking down a hallway, with all the fixtures lining the left wall; two sinks, five urinals, three regular stalls and, last, one handicap stall. The handicap stall door had definitely benefited from a swift kick or two. It was barely still on its hinges and it was a struggle to lock. But I did. The stall itself was no filthier than the rest of the mensroom, so I quickly set up shop.

Using my every-ready Clorox Disinfecting Wipes, I wiped down the toilet seat. I was a little trepidatious about setting my gym bag down on the floor, but I really had no choice. There was a tiny stainless steel shelf to the right of the toilet and I set my supplies on there. Then I stripped down, changed my socks and shoes, and slipped into the bikini briefs. As I sat down on the toilet seat I eyed the tiny digital clock that hung off my gym bag. I still had seven minutes. What to do? I slipped on my cock ring. I checked my ass – yep, lubed and clean.

Someone came in. My heart raced.

They went to the urinal, so I knew it wasn't my guy. They finished up in short order and left. I still had five minutes. To wait.

So during this time my mind turned to all the things that could ruin this experience for me. The Total Twink and I had talked about the possibility of others being there. It’s a very cruisy bathroom – always has been. If there were a bunch of guys hanging out at the urinal stroking their dicks, the twink wanted me to come out of the stall and let them watch as he fucked me. I didn't think that was a great idea but kept mum. Good thing there wasn't anyone hanging out. I was already fighting with myself regarding the scumminess of my surroundings, I didn't need anything to make me feel even more uncomfortable. Then I thought about what would happen if a child should wander in. This is a tea room queen’s worse nightmare and also the one argument that law enforcement officials love to throw in your face when they confront people they suspect of cruising. And they’re right. Ick. Kids. So not sexy. But then I had to ask myself: what kind of parent would allow their child to wander into a mensroom at a mall alone… especially the restroom in this mall?

Suddenly the door opened and someone entered. I resisted the urge to peak over the top of the stall or through the crack of the barely closed door. The party made a beeline to the stall next to mine. He closed and locked his door and immediately sat down on the toilet. He hadn't shucked down his pants, so I knew right then that either it was the Total Twink or a cop. He tapped his right foot several times in a very obvious manner. He was wearing dark brown khakis and black dress shoes that had not seen shoe polish in quite awhile.

Rather than tap back I simply rose, unlocked the door to my stall and assumed the position; bending over the toilet with my bikini brief clad ass in the air. With one hand I grabbed my poppers and with the other I checked to make sure that the hole in the briefs lined up with the one in my ass. Good enough. I uncorked the poppers and took a big hit. I knew that once this thing started it was going to be swift and furious. The Total Twink suddenly rose, unlocked his door and flew into my stall. I didn't take my eyes off the wall in front of me. He struggled to get the bent door re-locked, but once accomplished he turned and faced my backside. “Awesome”, was all that he said as he placed a finger through the hole in the briefs and brought the its tip to rest on my lubed pucker.

He undid his belt and dropped his pants. “Suck me hard.” This was not in the playbook, but it was a definite order, so I complied. I spun around and crouched down before him. No way was I going to put my bare knees on that floor. He was true to his picture; thin, white, hairless. My eyes traveled upward quickly taking in his skinny chest and then his face. His hair was as blonde as mine had once been, sun-kissed and cut in a shaggy mid-length style. His blue eyes were alive with anticipation and nervous energy. The face was sharp and angular. His chin had somewhat of a point to it, as did his nose, which seemed to be a bit longer than his face required. I found it sexy. I like big, long noses. It’s like a dude has a cock hanging on their face. I just want to take it in my mouth.

“Suck it,” he demanded. He meant his dick, of course and not his nose. My attention immediately turned to his crotch. He was wearing skin tight, translucent bikini briefs. The hotness factor of his briefs put the ones I was wearing to shame. I peeled the lycra-like fabric from his dick. It was a healthy fucking dick. A real beauty. Pink, pale, fat and mouthwatering. He had trimmed his reddish-blonde pubes to about a half inch and that was the only hair to be found in the region. His large balls hung heavy and low. I grabbed his nut sack and used it like a handle to bring his dick closer to my mouth. I swallowed the beautiful cut head and took his flaccid member deep into my mouth with a single swallow. That’s all it really took. That fucker sprang to life like an inflatable life preserver, filling the walls of my throat until I thought I would choke. The length and width forced my head back. In turn I swallowed deeper and continued to try and hold his dick in my throat. It was hot. But Total Twink had something else in mind.

“Now.” That’s all he said. I knew what it meant.

I quickly re-assumed my position over the toilet.

“Condom”, I pointed out to his left as I spun around. I’d had the foresight to have the condom at the ready, sitting on top of its wrapper. “Use lube”, I offered helpfully and hopefully, as he slid the condom over the end of his massive meat. I faced the wall, grabbed my poppers and took another deep hit. As he was lining up the head of his dick with the hole in my briefs, I said, “Enter slowly”. The last thing I wanted was to cripple over in pain because he rammed that fucker in me full speed ahead.

Apparently the hole I had made was not going to be wide enough to accommodate Total Twink’s appendage. Next thing I knew, he’d placed his thumbs in the hole and began to rip. The sound was fucking hot. By this point he was some kind of flustered. He took his dick and rammed it into my hole. I winced a bit and took another hit of poppers. He didn't bother to let his dick get to know the insides of my hole before he began power fucking me. Grabbing the sides of my hips he pulled my ass toward him as he pushed his cock deep in my hole. I decided it was hit the poppers or bail. Suddenly he stopped pile driving my ass and ripped the underwear even more. He wanted my ass bare. He gave my right cheek a sharp smack before resuming the pounding rhythm of his relentless ram and jam.

“Fuck, yeah,” I breathed. “Use it.”

He didn't need any encouragement. He was ripping my ass up something fierce. His momentum quickly built into a frenzy and then, abruptly… he stopped and stood perfectly still. I felt his dick flex, growing in width as the first spurt of cum shot out of the head of his wrapped pole. Just as quickly, he resumed ramming my ass. The only sound he made was that of a breathy “nnnnnhhhhhhhh” as he continued to pump his juice into my hole. After a few minutes his pace began to slow until he came to a complete stop. For good measure he rammed his spent monster deep into my ass one last time. He then pulled out, removed the condom and flung it on the little stainless steel shelf. The whole thing happened so quickly, I hadn't had any time to pay attention to my own dick. I spun around and sat on the toilet, thinking he would want to watch me shoot my load. But basically all I caught was the sight of his backside as it disappeared out the stall door. Bastard didn't even attempt to close the door. I raced to the door and shut it, turning the lock in record time.

Total Twink was still pulling himself together as he strode off to exit the mensroom. At that moment someone else entered. I ran back quickly to take my seat on the toilet. The poppers had left my head dazed and the fuck had pretty much taken my breath away. I checked the floor for any evidence that anything unseemly had taken place. Not finding anything I sat back on the stool and concentrated on controlling my breathing. Total Twink left and the dude that had just entered went to the urinals.

Soon, all was quiet. I picked up the used condom and dropped it into the toilet. I had thought about using the cum as lube, but nixed that idea due to the presence of that other dude. In fact, I decided my gratification would have to wait. I removed my tennis shoes and white socks and quickly got back into my work clothes, pausing only long enough to wipe my hole and vitals with a couple of wet wipes. Once my gear was stowed and all evidence of my presence flushed away, I made my way to the sink. I gargled, washed my face and hands, and retied my tie. A cute Asian dude was standing at the urinals to my right. The wall with the urinals was indented and if I stood near the paper towel dispenser opposite the sinks, I could watch him from behind. He was playing with his dick for sure.

I thought about it. I did.

But at that moment a real old dude shuffled into the can. That was definitely my exit cue. I grabbed my bag and left.

In the parking lot, as I sat in my car waiting for the heat to kick in, I reached over and pulled out the bikini briefs. Man, that dude really did a number on them. I thought it was hot as fuck. My dick stirred as I wondered if I would ever get another chance at having that big fat fuck stick up my ass.

I didn't care. Not really.

Once is always enough. And I kind of knew that what I had just experienced would probably last me a lifetime. It was risky. And fun. And I had gotten away with it.

As I drove out of the parking lot, I decided to stop at one of my favorite cruisy parks on the way home.

You never know, I thought… could be more than one use for the hole in these briefs. 

And I was just in the mood to find out.