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Thursday, April 23, 2009

Pop, Pop

I’ve been using poppers on and off during sex for the past six years. More on than off.

I like them when I bottom or suck cock. They help me relax my hole and throat. I think that is the main reason anyone uses them. I have seen depictions in movies and heard real life stories from individuals where they were snorted on the dance floor, but my club days are pretty much behind me, and the idea of doing so would never hold any appeal to me.

So I don’t do them at any other time. I only use them for sex.

I have made huge mistakes with them.

  • They have spilled on the floor (ruining the floor - once).
  • I have used too much and ended up being a really bad sex partner.
  • They have splashed up my nose on occasion.
  • And resulted in the occasional headache/hangover.
  • And, let's face it, these can't be healthy.

Recently I had a hemoglobin test that came back high enough to raise concern. Hemoglobin can be affected in this way when one is exposed to toxins, which I am sure is what poppers is to be considered. It was a first, but gave me pause.

Recently I have been using a brand called ‘Real Poppers’. It has a bunch of writing in German on its silver foil label. It bears no logo or any information regarding what is in it. It is a far different type of inhalant than the poppers I have become used to. I normally buy brands such as ‘Jungle Juice’, ‘ManScent’, or ‘Rush’. I like those just fine, but I was intrigued by the whole concept of ‘Real Poppers’. I know that at one point poppers were made with amyl nitrate, which has since been deemed restricted use (prescription only) and they are now made using cyclohexyl nitrite, which is not part of the same class of nitrates as amyl. I’m not sure this bottle of ‘Real Poppers’ is the amyl nitrate of old, but it is definitely not the cyclohexyl nitrite I first was introduced to and am used to.

I’m thinking of throwing away the bottle of ‘Real Poppers’. I have had several sexual experiences using them. One was really quite amazing. The man I was with at the time, a great top with a huge dick, raved about them. Me? I’ve been less enthralled. Since that episode, I’ve come to dislike ‘Real Poppers’. They give me a hair-trigger and I come too soon. That wasn’t the case the time I had quite an amazing sexual episode using them (I remained rock hard and didn’t come until the top did), but it has been the norm since.

Actually, I think I should do away with them altogether. They are an expense and bother I could do without. I always fear being stopped by the cops in a park and having to explain why they are on my person (why else would they be on my person?).

I have gone through time periods when I have not used them. Usually this is a time period where sexual activity is not a quite constant thing (rare), or during a period when I have consciously chosen to not use them.

Are they a drug? And do I yearn for them because I really want sex, or do I want sex so that I can use them?

Chicken / Egg?

I was having sex and enjoying sex before I ever did poppers. I was a hard core top who on rare occasions bottomed. Now that scenario has reversed itself. I have become more of a bottom since I began using poppers. I also have become better at deep-throating and really taken to sucking cock since I began using poppers. Before poppers I was never that interested in sucking cock. I liked mine sucked (still do), but pre-poppers I always thought of sucking cock as something you did in order to get yours sucked (so little did I know).

If I stop using poppers, I don’t expect to become a hard core top again. I think that boat has sailed. But I do think letting go of ‘Real Poppers’ is probably a good idea. I don’t even know what’s in them? I could be snorting paint thinner. Kind of stupid now that I think about it.

But I do think I’ll go get a bottle of one of my regular brands.

I like the rush. I like the promise of release.

Hmmm… I really want sex.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Once in a Blue Moon... Random Acts of Hotness

Why cruise for sex? Why spend all that time in the hopes of landing something that may or may not be available at a given location within the limited time constraints life imposes on us all?

Why spend all that time in a familiar environment, dodging trolls, ignoring those that won’t take no for an answer and getting pissed off with those guys who give you the cold shoulder on a consistent basis (they are there looking for the same thing you are – right?). So? Yes or no? I don’t have time for your mind games.

Why bother?

Well, first there is that whole great outdoor adventure thing. Now that the weather has turned nice and spring has sprung that wonderful glow and promise hunting for dick has always possessed has returned renewed. I love being outside. Not one for car sex (too cramped and limiting), I always yearn for the freedom of wide open spaces and the heat of the sun beating down on my man parts. I love the woods, the smell of the earth, decaying leaves, slight breezes and the inspiring textures of nature.

The other thing that appeals to me and keeps me coming back for more: random acts of hotness.

It happens. Every once in awhile, and just often enough to keep me coming back for more.

I’m talking about those rare occasions when you happen upon someone who is way out of your league, but for some reason (desperation? naiveté? a devotion to public service?) they choose to have sex with you anyway. I always walk away from these encounters breathless and giggling like mad. It comes so out of the blue. Usually during the peak of a dry spell, just when you start to feel that maybe you should give up the whole hunt because your shelf-life has past; you’re expiration has come date due.

And then, out of the blue, a wonderful creature will come along and restore your faith in the whole process. It’s like having your limited warranty renewed.

One such instance happened about three years ago. It was the weekend of Thanksgiving, on a Saturday, at dusk. There was snow on the ground, but there had been a recent thaw. It was nippy, but nice; the snow melted in places leaving icy mounds of white. I was at one of my usual cruising spots, feeling sorry for myself because I had been there for two hours and scored zilch. Had not even been approached. I was about to call it a day when this little black sports car came streaming into the lot. It came to an immediate halt and parked itself about twenty feet away from my vehicle. We were the only vehicles in the lot.

Seated in out cars, we exchanged glances. He then got out of his car and began to slowly walk down an incline to a nearby picnic table. He was really well dressed – dress shirt, tie, great dress slacks and beautiful black shoes. He has a full head of beautiful, slightly curly black hair. He’s tall and height/weigh proportionate. From the backwards glance he sends in my direction, I determine that he is either handsome or very cute.

My heart sinks just a little. He’s way out of my league. I’m thinking that this is a waste of my time and his, but I dutifully get out of the car and saunter over so he can check me out. I am pretty sure his reaction will be negative, and that he will bolt back to his car and race off. But, hey… I get rejected a lot. I live with it. And when I get rejected by someone as good looking as this man, I take it as a compliment. You know, that weird, I-have-no-self-esteem, thank-you-for-sneering-at-me kind of compliment. And I will take rejection over being ignored or being given the cold shoulder any day. At least with rejection you know where you stand and where not to waste your energy.

So, I approached fearing the worst and waited for his eyes to meet mine so that I could register his distaste and go home. To add to my further feeling of hopelessness, he turned out to be quite young – probably in his early twenties. He was gorgeous. Pretty. Sweet looking. All that beautiful black wavy hair. Exactly the type of guy that never looks my way (and is usually filled with repulsion or pissed off when I look his).

He smiled. Shyly.

We made small talk. Very small. After a few halting questions met with equally vague answers, I decided to just put it out there, and asked, “So what are you up for?”. I don’t remember his exact answer, but it was ambiguous enough for me to not be sure who was the top and who was the bottom, if anal was even on the table, and just who would be sucking whom. But I told him, cool… and that I would be right back (I had forgotten my stuff – lube, condom, poppers, cock ring – in my car). I kind of raced to the car. As I did, I took note that it was kind of chilly – nippy really – but anticipated sexual encounters have this way of nullifying such concerns. I grabbed my stuff and returned to the picnic table before this incredible vision vanished.

I mention how cold it is. He agrees and tells me it is now his turn to run to his car. He tells me to start up the hill and he will catch up. Inside I’m thinking: oh, this is how it ends. He’s had time to reconsider his purchase. He’s going to make a quick getaway while my back is turned. But I do as I’m told and start up the hill – which is wet, a little muddy and covered in icy mounds of semi-melted snow. I’m starting to think this whole thing might fall under the category of ‘this is a really bad idea’. I’m halfway up the hill when I turn around to see if and when I am going to have to start my lonely trek back to my car. Instead, I see the object of my erection fluffing out a small blanket, wrapping it about his shoulders and moving quickly towards me. The little blanket has long fringes and it is striped just like a… no, it is – it’s a tallit. A freaking Jewish prayer shawl. My head starts clicking – it’s dusk, on a Saturday, he’s dressed to the nines and … OMG! He’s just come from temple. He probably wanted desperately to get away from his family and do something gay and dirty.

But the lad is upon me before I can even begin to contemplate the moral implications of any of this. He has a beautiful smile on his face with eyes to die for… so all such thoughts are pushed aside. I comment on the mud and the fact he is so dressed up. He suggests we go no further. It is a bit darker now and in his presence I just go with the flow. We move to behind a large tree, offering just enough cover that no one driving by could be able to see us. I stand with my back to the tree and he presses in close to me. We tentatively grab each other’s crotches. His dick is hard as a rock, while mine is happy but a little intimidated. He wastes no time. I undo my jeans and he crouches down and takes me into his mouth. My dick responds immediately, but I am distracted, too, playing look out and wondering where all this leads. He spends a few minutes on my dick, his hands pressing my ass cheeks greedily. His technique is… well, it’s just okay. I feel his teeth on occasion. I pull out my dick and tell him to lick my balls. He does and then goes back to my dick. I feel close to shooting (prematurely), so I pull it out of his mouth again. He returns to a full upright position.

Then he says the words every cocksucker longs to hear… “Suck me, bitch”. He’s undone his dress slacks, jerking himself while he slobbed up my dick, so the meaty head of his cock is poking out. I take a hit of poppers and dive in. He makes the kind of noises that send me over the edge – little grunts and coos punctuating each new oral maneuver. I work all my usual tricks: concentrating on the underside of the head of his dick, deep throating his dick, pulling slightly on his ball sack, constricting my throat around the shaft of his cock, etc. After a few minutes of this, he forcibly, bodily picks me up and says “I want to fuck your ass”. He then moves in for a killer deep kiss, pulling up my sweater and t-shirt in the process.

I’m stunned. And in heaven. I hand him the condom and he quickly shucks it onto his dick. I then realize to my horror – no lube! Bad bottom, I reprimand myself. Without even mentioning the lack of lube, I bend at the waist and engulf his latex encased fuck stick. I lubed it up as best I could with my saliva (which, is considerable – I drool) and then standing up, I spit in my hand and rub some on my hole. I turn around, facing the tree, take the cap off my poppers (it falls to the ground) and, preparing to hug the tree issue the warning, “Go slowly!

He heeds my advice, drooling his own spit onto my crack as the head of his dick tests the rim of my ass. Suddenly, he crouches down, spreading my cheeks wide and goes to town on my ass with his mouth. I take a hit of poppers and then hold my ass cheeks further apart for his sweet face. He lubes me up big time, working his magic mouth like a starving man. He then stands and slowly inserts his dick. He’s not huge, but very nice – probably seven inches. It is cosmetically a very pretty dick. And it feels wonderful. I take another hit of poppers and he asks “You like that? Huh?” I’m not sure if he was asking about the poppers or taking his dick up my ass, but at this point, I figure I owe the dude some major answers, so I pull out my porno talk dictionary to see just how far I can push this amazing Jewish cherub using my hole.

It turns out to be just the ticket. He happily bangs away with me spouting encouragement and then announces he’s going to cum. He pulls out and rips away the condom. I instinctively turn around and crouch down in front of him. He manhandles his dick a bit and asks me in a choked voice “Where you want it?” I offer up my chest. The first spurt flies high and hard, hitting the right side of my face, the second my chin… then, with diminishing returns, the next six stream down my chest. I’m jerking my own and coming at the same time. One drop of my jizz hits his perfectly polished, expensive shoes and I immediately move to wipe it away with my thumb.

Completely spent, we are both grinning like mad dogs, and giggling as we quickly store our equipment and go about readjusting our clothing. “Fuck, that was great”, he says. What can I say? I agree, still feeling the effects of the intensity of the poppers and our frenzied fuck.

I tell him to go ahead, that I have to find the cap to my poppers. Don’t worry, I say, I’ll get rid of the condom. It is almost pitch dark now. I grope about in the dark as he, (kind of – could have been wishful thinking on my part) reluctantly heads to his car, commenting that it is too cold. I find the cap, but not the condom. I return to my car. He’s waited in his car until I am in mine (such a gentleman). He turns on his lights, waves and exits the lot. I am in my car… shivering, spent, giggling, and overrun with elation.

I love that feeling of – wow, did that really just happen?

It is precisely that feeling that keeps me cruising. Because you never know when you are going to totally luck out and nab someone that just blows your mind while you are blowing their dick.

There are other similar instances I will share at a different time. They are equally amazing (to me). I just remember this one so clearly, because at the time I thought… this is one I will never forget. When I am old and wrinkled and too damn ugly to pull in anything… this is one of those moments I will remember… one that will warm my soul.

Ahh… Jewish boys and their beautiful dark hair.

It makes me feel just like that old perv on ‘Family Guy’.

Hmmmmm. Hmmmmm. (Indeed.)

Friday, April 10, 2009

Fucked by a Monk

Fucked by a Monk...

Kind of like ‘Touched by an Angel’, but… not really.

It was a reasonably nice day; too cold to take a walk, but too nice not to go to the park. So I went to one of my favorite cruising spots and parked. I was looking, but not really looking; one of those ambivalent moods that overtake me at times. I didn’t know what I wanted, except that I wanted to be there.

It didn’t take long for this nice looking BMW SUV-looking vehicle to pull up near me. It was black, new, and without a speck of dirt on it – a rarity given the season. The driver left two spaces between my car and his, just enough space to make me doubt he was looking for fun. I couldn’t resist. I looked over. At first I thought it might be a woman, but no…it was a cute Asian man with a stocking cap on his head – one of those Abercrombie & Fitch types. He caught my eye, but communicated very little, or at least nothing I could pick-up on. So, after looking over a few more times, I decided he was just there to park and that I should focus my attention elsewhere. Soon another car came pulling up on the other side of my car. It was one of the regulars; one that I had no interest in, but also one that had a history of not taking ‘no’ for an answer. So I quickly backed out, intent on parking in a different lot in the same park. As I pulled out I looked over and caught the eye of the Asian man. Our eyes met and then I left.

I pulled into my favorite parking spot in the other lot and turned off my car. I was the only one there. A few minutes later, the Asian man’s vehicle was headed in my direction. But someone else arrived and parked next to me before he did. Again, it was someone I had seen before and had no interest in. So I just stared straight ahead, hoping that he would take the hint. I also hoped that the Asian man would be brave enough to approach despite the other vehicle’s presence. Instead, the Asian man drove past me on the road behind my vehicle, then turned around in the far parking lot and drove back. I was pleased when he parked a few cars from me. Ambivalent, but pleased.

The third party finally realized that I was not interested and pulled away. As he did, I checked out the Asian man. He was looking at me, very intently. I smiled. He adjusted his stocking cap and looked a bit sheepish. Skittish men are a pet peeve of mine, but, remembering that he had followed me to this second parking lot and been brave enough to park next to me despite the presence of the other vehicle, I attributed his behavior to shyness. He was cute. All I could see was his head, which was shaped nicely. He had sad eyes and a small smile. I was in the process of deciding how to proceed when he abruptly backed out of his parking space. Ahh, I thought, I waited too long, or he has decided I am not his type. Instead, he surprised me by backing into the parking space one over from my driver’s door. He then rolled down his window and I did the same.

We made small talk, commented on the weather. When I asked what he was doing in the park, he said something about having ‘the need’. He went on to tell me that recently his life was very stressful. For a moment I thought he just wanted to chat. Then he opened his driver’s door. We were positioned in a way that no one else could possible see into his vehicle. He displayed a large, hard, thick dick sticking up through the fly of his baggy jeans. I smiled and said I’d be happy to help him deal with that stress.

We began to negotiate what to do, where to go. We both ruled out the park. It was too cold to go for a walk and the port-a-potty held no attraction for either of us. I had a rental property that was vacant and suggested that we go there. It was a distance away and he surprised me by agreeing to follow me there.

We arrived and he got out of his vehicle offering me my first glimpse at what I had gotten myself into. He was considerably shorter than I was, with a cute compact body. He was wearing baggy, hip-hop jeans and a sharp sweater. He was also younger than me… by at least ten years. I grabbed a blanket I have in the trunk of my car, a towel and my sex kit. He followed me into the vacant house. Once inside I locked the door and directed him to follow me to one of the bedrooms.

He was very quiet. And sweet and shy. I laid the blanket on the floor and began to get undressed. He followed my lead, first removing his stocking cap to reveal a full head of pitch black closely buzzed hair. The rest of his body, save for a small patch of pubic hair above his dick was hairless. And flawless. Slim. The perfect swimmer’s build. He would have qualified as a total twink, except there was a maturity that belayed such distinction I decided to be bold. I asked him if he was going to fuck me. He indicated that he had no expectations, but that would be fine. He laid down on his back on the blanket. I towered over him. I got down between his legs and took him into my mouth. He let out a little gasp of appreciation. He was large and thick, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The head of his dick was the thickest part, the rest tapered slightly to its base. He had a cock ring on with an additional string constricting the front of his dick where it met his balls. I deep throated him a couple of times and then spent some time on the underside of the head of his dick. I then kissed his smooth flat stomach, each of his nipples and then his lips. His lips went hard. He put his head to the side and said ‘there will be no kissing’. I kissed his neck and made my way back down to his dick. His balls were small and cutely nestled in their hairless sack. I gave them a bit of attention and then returned to deep throating his dick.

He began to talk. He commented on the fact that he had a big dick for an Asian dude. This was probably true, but I don’t give much credence to generalizations. I just smiled and continued to constrict my throat around his cock. He then said he was embarrassed about his shaved head. I told him he looked great. That he was very handsome, very good looking and that his body was very nice. He mentioned that he shaved his eyebrows, which I hadn’t noticed until he mentioned it. I asked why and he told me he would tell me later. He then rambled on about having ‘the need’ and how stressful his life had been recently. I listened, concentrating on his dick in relation to my tongue, lips and throat. His hands were placed behind his head and he made no attempt to touch me or guide me. Instead he talked.

I’m a good listener, but I get bored easily, especially when having sex with a non-involved partner. Something about this situation made me brave and I just decided to go ahead and proceed with my plans to get fucked. I had already placed the lube and condoms on the blanket before we began to play. So I just reached over, with his dick still in my mouth, grabbed a condom and opened its foil package. His dick was rock hard and very slick from my mouth. I peeled the condom on his dick, glancing up to see what his reaction would be. He just watched. I squirted lube on his dick and rubbed some on my ass. I had douched just before going to the park, as a precaution, so I was pretty confident this was going to be a clean fuck. I straddled his dick and guided him into me. The nice thing about being on top is that I am in full control of just how slowly I am entered. I took my time, eventually easing my ass all the way to the base of his dick. He made a small satisfied sigh. I did all this without the use of poppers. So by the time I was sitting firmly on his dick, my cock was rock hard. I began to work my ass up and down his shaft. It felt good. I work out enough and stretch enough that being in such an odd position, given my long legs, doesn’t really stress out my body much. I suppose I could have just bounced on top of him until he came… but fortunately, he had other ideas.

First, without removing his dick from my ass, he lowered me onto my back. I wrapped my legs around him as he pumped away. I played with his nipples a bit. They were very petite and I wasn’t sure he had much sensation in them, so I abandoned them. Instead I grabbed his ass. It was very hot. Soon he had me rolled up on my shoulders, with his legs completely extended behind him. Then he rolled me to my side, lifted up one of my legs straight into the air and battered away at my ass. This grew old fast. So I moved wordlessly into a squatting doggy position. I was pretty sure, given his sudden vigor and interest, that this position would be the one to bring it home. I was right. He slammed into me. The shy, reserved man I had met earlier had evolved into a piston-ramming fuck machine. He didn’t say much. He didn’t have to. It was all in the swing of his hips.

I arched my back up. Normally at this juncture I would attempt to turn my head and lock lips with my top. But kissing was off the menu. Instead, I drew his attention to my cock, which, probably because I had resisted the temptation of poppers, was rock hard and set to shoot a load. He was fucking the cum right out of me.

Our timing was perfect. He began to cum as I shot off my first round. I grabbed my dick and began to pump it while tightening my hole around his dick. He surrendered. Buried his dick deep in me and rode out the rest of his orgasm. I was surprised by the volume and strength of my own load. We both let out relieved sighs followed by chastened laughter.

We disengaged. I offered wet wipes. We dressed. As we dressed he began to talk again. He told me about the sources of his recent stress, the stress that then caused him ‘the need’.

He told me that his mother had died the previous week. The funeral had been last weekend. Immediately my mind leapt to the previous Saturday morning. I had driven past the cemetery near my house and taken note of the number of vehicles and the presence of men clad in bright orange robes. The funeral had prompted him to shave his eyebrows - for religious reasons. He was a monk.

I offered my condolences and again told him how attractive he was.

He then told me his dog had died the day before after a lengthy illness. The dog was only 7 years old. A black lab with pancreatic cancer. It was untreatable.

I told him about my own dogs and again offered my condolences for his recent losses.

There was no furniture in the house. No place to sit. Otherwise, perhaps I would have offered to sit and listen. I never made a move to hold him or comfort him. I sensed that once he had satisfied his ‘need’, physical intimacy was off the table.

We talked a bit more. About the house. Where I lived. Where he lived. It turned out he lived not far from another rental unit of mine. We made our way to our vehicles. I followed him up to the point when he reached the street he lived on. I drove on.

Strange. When I started this story – when I decided to actually commit it to paper, I was under the impression that this would be a light-hearted retelling of one of my adventures. I thought it was humorous. Fucked by a Monk.

But it’s not.

I guess loss never is. I hoped I helped him a little. In some way.

I didn’t get a sense that he wanted a friend or wanted more than I gave.

I just hope it was enough.

Comfort takes many forms.

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Fun with Craigslist

This was a recent posting in the M4M Room on Craigslist.
Okay I am a straight women and I have been with my bf for 3 years now and we have a child together, I recently found an email in my bfs account from another man talking about how he wanted to fuck his tight little ass again. When I confronted my bf about this he said it was all a mind fuck to teach me a lesson to go thru his stuff, well, this was the first time. He has always had bi ways about himself... ya know things up the butt... Looking at dudes cocks in porns. I am just not sure if he's gay straight bi or what the fuck. He tells me he loves and wants to be with me but I just don't know.. HELP!!!xoxo UnsureHoney


I decided to help – here is my reply:
Hit the fridge. Eat & Eat. Gain about 50 lbs. <> 04/01 12:51:03

Just let yourself go. Don't bother with your hair, make-up, etc. Wear the same baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants every day. Just wear the same outfit all the time; eat in it, watch T.V. in it, pick up the kids from school in it, sleep in it. Hell, just stop bathing, period.

Stop doing housework. Stop cooking at home. Eat out at fast food places. Load up on deep-fried foods - they are real problem solvers.

Spend hours shopping on QVC. Buy lots of jewelry designed by people who are famous, but not for designing jewelry. Just run up your credit cards to their absolute limit.

Also spend a lot of time on your cell phone- not asking your friends and family what to do about your husband the homo. Instead ask them what is wrong with you. Then ignore their advice, because what do they know? You're the one living with a fucking manipulative homo.

Oh, and it sounds like there are children involved. So, please, don't share any of your feelings or express yourself. Anything that you are feeling is bad, so just let it build up inside you, tearing you apart. What doesn't kill us? Makes us stronger! Don't bother with therapists. They will just take your money and string you along. Instead, watch Dr. Phil! Take all his down-home advice and hick sayings to heart, then ask yourself every night before you go to bed - how's that working for you?

Also keep what you know to yourself. Let the kids think that Mommy is the problem - not their daddy who likes to take it up the ass. You know, the mf who wanted to marry a nice lady and breed children in order to get all the benefits of doing-so. Little things like social acceptance and tax breaks. Why should he risk being burdened with all the problems those silly fags have to put up with when he can have someone like you at home to cover up all that butt-fucking he gets in the port-a-potty at the way side rest off the interstate on his way home from work? And don't worry, hon - he keeps himself clean with all those KFC wet-wipes you keep leaving in the mini van.

Yep, babycakes. Just follow the advice I've given you and everything - and I do mean everything - will work out just fine. Just fine.

Mmmm-kay? Keep us posted, hon.

Yes. We're homosexuals. We really do care.