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Friday, July 31, 2009

Mercy Fucks and Magical Thinking

I’m not sure where I stand on the whole mercy fuck issue anymore.

I used to believe that karma had a lot to do with the quality of fucks that might cross your pathway. You had to play nicely with others in order to play at all. I guess I still believe that.

I also believed that what you put out there comes back to you. And that by doing good deeds, you invite goodness into your life.

That’s why I make an effort to not be rude. I don’t go off on people. On rare occasions I have had to be very direct with people – forcefully removing their hands from my person or asking them to stop following me. Actually, with the stop following me thing, I usually figure out a way to avoid or evade – I will go way out of my way, in fact – to the point of leaving the scene – in order to circumvent someone from hounding me. Some people can’t take a hint and that is just part of the game that is cruising. But don't scream, I don't make scenes. I don't call people on their shit. I don't like drama. For a lot of people it's a turn off... and there are enough things about me that turn people off as is... so I don't need to add to the pile.

Part of playing nice with others also has to do with making everyone who wants to be part of the game feel a part of the game. I have guys whom I will have a conversation with in the cruising field, but am really not that into. This is a new development for me, as I have purposely chosen to not be all that social in the past. Part of me doesn’t want to get over-involved with the type of people who cruise, but I also know that some feel this is a community that needs to be recognized by those who take part in its rituals. For some reason I have taken it upon myself to be more social this year. So I will talk to almost anyone who is cruising about in the same area I’m operating in. For one thing… you learn things – about the people who cruise and about issues of safety, like undercover cops or psychopaths to avoid and what is the best brand of lube to bring with you when in the field.

I have also chosen to give the occasional blow job, receive the occasional blow job, throw the occasional fuck or occasionally get fucked by men who, for one reason or another, fail to float my boat. Sometimes it’s out of desperation. Sometimes it is out of kindness or generousity. In these instances it is usually with someone who has doggedly pursued me in the past or someone who has yet to take a hint in the present. My own level of horniness and needs come into play in some instances and I just give into the moment. When cruising in public places, I know a mercy fuck well before it begins.

Those internet hook-ups that end up turning into mercy fucks, on the other hand? Those you kind of stumble into…kind of. They’re not really that much different than those that occur when cruising in public places, but with the cruising kind, you know ahead of time what you’re getting. Sometimes people on-line are less than honest when representing their physical attributes or what it is they are interested in doing sexually. In those instances it sometimes becomes a case of – 'well, I’m already here, so let’s do this thing'. Sometimes. There are exceptions. Again, my own level of horniness and desperation come into play. But I am much more likely to just walk away when deceived by someone on-line.

One guy, I went so far as to get naked with and began to make out with before I decided that I couldn’t go through with it. Not only was he not what he had me believe, but he was also one of the worst kissers I had ever met. He misrepresented his sexual activity interests and his hygiene (due to excessive cigarette smoking) was less than acceptable. I finally pulled his face off of my own and asked him if he smoked cigarettes. Of course I already knew the answer – his home reeked of it and so did he. I told him that I couldn’t continue because I was horribly allergic to nicotine (which is sort of true in some ultra-sensitive dimension) and that if we continued his saliva would cause me to break out in hives and my throat would close up (that would be a first). I told him I had to go home and shower immediately. He bought it. Lying is not a good thing, but sparing someone’s feelings – I think that qualifies as a lesser evil. Am I a bit of an ass for doing it? Probably. I can live with that.

When cruising in a public place I am much more inclined to give into the mercy fuck. Cruising is hard work... you have to be cagey, on your toes, hyper-aware of your surroundings, all te while demonstrating just the right degree of aggressiveness. There are also those occasions when there just aren’t that many dudes looking for what you’re looking to do, or worse – just not that many dudes. Sometimes I am approached by someone who does nothing for me; physically they have let themselves go, they are grossly overweight, they are overly effeminate, they possess a fashionista sense of entitlement (snobs) or their behavior is worrisome (overly aggressive, obnoxious, can’t take a hint). If nothing else is in the cards, or it's time for me to go home, or just because I’m feeling generous and giving – I will play with them. Either I cum or they do… but somebody gets their cookies and it makes the other person happy. In my book – that is a mercy fuck.

In cases like these, there is a little voice inside my head that tells me, “Go on, do it. You’ll score points in heaven.” In other words… by putting out and giving a little something to someone I would normally pass on, maybe I get credit towards running into someone who really floats my boat – OR – is way out of my league and will play with me anyway. I realize that for those who fuck around with me that are way out of my league, I may very well be a mercy fuck for them (in other words: shoe on other foot). See, I know I am not all that. I do not win big all the time every time. Some people do not find me attractive in the least. I get that. Part of me would prefer that they not fuck around with me at all (especially those who start something up and THEN tell me they are not that into me and “have to go now’” – (What? You mean, like, to the bathroom?). Those guys are hard on the self-esteem, and deep down inside, I think they know this and that is part of their game. By making someone else feel like a fool or bad about themselves, they feel superior – which is absolute bullshit, but it happens. There are lots of different twists among the truly twisted.

So basically… life is a round table; what you put out on it eventually comes back around. So you better serve up something hot and tasty, even if the guy you’re handing it too is not the sort of table companion you had in mind.

I used to believe that. But I don’t anymore.

I am an admitted practitioner of magical thinking. In many areas of my life I practice the art of self-deception by believing that I can will things into being. That by wishing it were true, it becomes true. I practice this in relation to time, the weather, luck, chance and sexual activity. It isn’t a great way to live, but it is somewhat entertaining – that is, when it is not just ball-busting painful. Those are the times I ask the sky, ‘Why does God hate me?” When I ask, ‘Why can’t I win – just this once?’ When I tell myself, ‘I have no luck’.

I have anger issues. I have self-esteem issues. I am a horribly flawed piece of man meat.

But then so are those guys who I term my mercy fucks.

They are flawed – in my eyes. That doesn’t mean I don’t owe them a good time.

But what if I don’t want to? Is okay to just say no?


And lately, I have. More and more. Because whether I give that rather unattractive fifty-something with the bad comb-over a blow job or not is really not going to impact my chances of running into that super attractive thirty something who is really into me and can kiss like nobody’s business.

I also know that to have sex with people that I am really not that into is a sign of sex addiction. And while I love having sex, I don’t want to be a sex addict (although some would say I crossed that line a long time ago).

So I’m trying to develop some standards.

Of course, when I’m hooking up with people who don’t send pics and whom I meet once they walk into the room with me naked and on all fours wearing a blindfold – then it’s a little harder to develop any standards (or to lay claim to having some). Still, I enjoy totally anonymous sex. Maybe the lack of adherence to standards is a part of why enjoy doing it (I still ask for stats, but people lie, oh, they lie).

In the field… when cruising in public or when hooking up on the net the old-fashioned way via a chat room with pics and profiles (when did that become the old-fashioned way?) – I am sticking more and more to my standards.

But then again… I will try (almost) anything once – and that may extend to people, too.

Perhaps my claim to having standards is just another case of magical thinking on my part. Just because I want to believe I have standards, doesn’t make it so. And just because I want to believe I am not a sex addict… ?

Well, you can draw your own conclusion.

Happy hunting.

Friday, July 24, 2009

A Little Oral Open House - Cum One, Cum All

I hosted a little walk-in anonymous scene yesterday. It was hot. I rehab houses on the side, and have access to this house that I’ve been working on since June. Once the house is stable and secure, I like to take advantage of the set up and invite people over for a little something-something. The most I have had over at the same time has been two. This has been true even when I try to set up something like a tag team event with me as the bottom or other kinds of fun.

Yesterday, it was all about oral sex. I ran an ad on craigslist. I set a time perimeter, clued them into the approximate area of the city that the house is in, the rules of the game, my stats and provided a few naked pics of me to entice them into contacting me. Basic set up was that the door would be open and they could just walk in and find me in one of the rooms, on my knees, wearing a blindfold, waiting for their dick.

There are a couple of challenges to this set up - one being that I don’t have computer access at the site where I hope to host the event. The house has a security system and a fence. The electricity works, but no internet hook-up (I am working on a wireless system… but they are horribly unreliable and they don’t allow you to sit in the house – I am also considering using my cell phone, as it has internet capabilities, but the cost is prohibitive – and the keyboard and display too small). So I need to set up things and then quickly drive there and hope that people actually show up as promised. It’s a lot of hassle, but frequently well worth it.

I’m finding that it doesn’t pay to advertise on craigslist too much in advance of when you hope to have people over. I tested this theory yesterday, advertising a half hour before I hoped to be elsewhere waiting for my first dick. In the ad I stated that the ad would be removed at a certain time. That way, people are not emailing me when I am not there to receive them. My theory about not advertising in advance would seem to have legs yesterday – I had 10 responders within a twenty minute period. After a little hand holding, and giving them assurance re: safety of the area and guaranteeing them their anonymity, I managed to have six in the yes column. There were actually 12 responders, but two were eliminated due to issues that were outside of the realm of my particular taste and chosen activity. One wanted me to dress up in panties and a bra and the other… well, I just could never go there.

The four who declined did after learning the exact address and deciding it was too far, or that they lacked adequate time and one, because he wanted me to come pick him up and drive him to the place of play (kind of defeats the whole anonymous thing, huh?).

Two of the six who accepted were married men (or claimed to be). I have no issues with that, as long as everyone cleans up well afterwards.

In anonymous situations I never demand pics. They can see me, but I don’t want to see them. Well, I do, but I don’t get to, and that is the fun of it. I figure, with me blindfolded, I will get to suck dick that wouldn’t normally risk exposure. I respect people’s need for discretion. I am discrete. So, no names, no phone numbers, no pics. I do ask that they send me their stats – height, weight, and age being the absolute minimum accepted. I like it when they include their dick size (anticipation or the lowering of expectations), but am puzzled when they include hair color, eye color and assurances that they are handsome. I will be blindfolded. I won’t be seeing any of you… just feeling you.

So I set it up for six guys, warning them that they may have to share me. Sometimes more than one guy wants to show up at the same time. Even for those needing discretion – this was surprisingly not a problem – in fact it was a turn on for them. Not that it mattered, because as it turned out the guys all arrived one at a time. Maybe they waited out in their cars until they saw the guy before them leave or maybe they walked in, saw the other guy and decided to go outside and wait until I was finished with that guy before engaging my mouth. I doubt this was the case though, as I had adequate time to gargle with Listerine and clean up with a disinfecting wipe between arrivals.

I decided to play in the laundry room. It is a nice room. Lots of windows covered with white shades. The washer and dryer has not arrived yet, so the room is empty. I lay down a blanket, strip and set out my supplies: wet wipes, paper towels, poppers, cock ring, and Listerine. I also have my cell phone with me so I can keep track of the time.

There is a front gate to the house. When you lift the latch to come in, it squeaks and I can hear it from the laundry room, so I know when someone is arriving. The next sound I hear is front door opening. It is an exhilarating, dangerous-feeling time.

Having complete strangers show up at a given address and assault your mouth sight unseen is not the stuff for the skittish. I am by no means a hardened whore, but I am a pretty cheeky slut. I love this kind of thing.

In the past I have set it up for one on one and bottomed. I tried setting up a tag team event with me as the bottom slut, but only two guys showed up. In all cases I do it at a house other than my own and wearing a blindfold (unless the top decides, once a session is in play, that he wants me to look into his eyes – this is usually true only in cases where there is a hot connection that includes deep kissing). In any case – this is risky stuff - for them (they have to trust an awful lot – that I am not a mugger) and for me (that they are not a serial killer).

So I have an hour and a half window for my open house. Six guys are scheduled to appear. I don’t pin them down to times… I let it play as it lays – or in this case – as I lay.

I’m on my knees, naked, with a cockring and a blindfold on, with a bottle of poppers waiting at the ready when my first guy arrives. I hear him undress. I take a big hit of poppers. He approaches and I feel the nub of his dick press against my lips. I have him hard as a rock within a minute. He does not want me to use my hand on his dick at all. Every time I try to work his dick with both my hand and mouth, he pushes the hand away. His dick is nice – cut and about six and half inches. His body is in good shape – his ass, rock hard. He is not muscular, but not out of shape. He is covered in fur. I’m a good cocksucker and I work my mouth in as many ways as I can think of… changing up the level of suction, placement of lips and tongue and when deepthroating, constricting my throat like a calf sucking on its mother’s teet. He is loving all of this and becomes quite verbal. He’s also taken control of the poppers, feeding me some now and then. Soon, he gets down on his knees and I am sucking on his nipples and licking one of his arm pits. He seems tall, but I am not a good judge of height when on my knees and blindfolded. He has a full head of hair. He smells clean and sweet, so no issues with hygiene. Then he stands again and I take him home, deepthroating his dick until he buries a load down my throat. He pulls out, and then returns the tip of his dick to my lips. It has a bead of cum on it that I quickly lap up. He repeats this three more times… each drop is delicious. Then he turns and redresses himself. He uses a wet wipe, thanks me twice and is gone. I wait until I hear the latch on the gate. I get up, gargle with the Listerine, wipe down with a wet wipe and return to my blanket.

About ten minutes later the second guy shows up. This is different. He walks over and drops his cargo shorts. They hit the floor with a clank. There’s a nervous vibe about him. I decide to pretend like I am a human glory hole. I open my mouth and in pops his dick. It is rubbery, wrinkly and cold, but somewhat hard, even though he is not erect. I work my magic. He allows me to use my hand, so once hard I use my old hooker’s trick of sucking the dick and then rolling my palm over the head of his dick. I learned about this in one of those Xavier Hollander books that I read when I was a kid, babysitting at a couple of houses. Xavier Hollander is kind of a muse of mine. At the time her books, along with Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex, But Were Afraid To Ask were staples in many of the homes I babysat at when in junior high. But I digress…

Once hard, this guy's dick is about 7 inches and nicely thick. I like his balls and pull on them as I play, eventually taking a detour to lick and suck on them. I work my hands up his torso. No belly. A little fur. Okay chest. I play with his nips. His ass is oddly shaped, but firm. I don’t get a chance to explore much further, as he shoots his load rather quickly. If the first guy took fifteen minutes, this guy took maybe seven. He makes a little noise when he comes and then a lot of noise after. He is very flushed with the excitement and pulls up his cargo shorts quickly. He wanders around the house a bit, checking out the kitchen and bathroom, taking my Listerine with him. He leaves the Listerine in the bathroom, thanks me and leaves. I don’t hear the gate latch. The gate is open. So now I have no warning system. I lift up the blindfold and start searching for my Listerine.

The CD I have been playing has ended. So I restart it. I find my Listerine and gargle, wipe up with a wet wipe and grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. I contemplate going out, naked and shutting the gate. I open the front door to do so, and… another guy is walking up. I blurt out… sorry dude and head back to the laundry room. So much for anonymity, I’ve seen him

He looked like a surfer dude – deeply tan, with a full head of shoulder length hair. Older, in his late 30’s. And handsome: like seventies movie star handsome. I think this is one of the married men.

I get to my blanket, having slipped the blindfold back over my eyes. I take a hit of poppers. He enters and strips completely. He approaches and I take his dick into my mouth. He is large. Once hard I am guessing 8/8.5 and nicely thick. His body is smooth – hairless. So is his dick. His balls hang loose and low. He is taller than the others and I have to readjust myself in order to get a good angle on his dangle. I feel my way around his body. I can tell that at one point he was a solid mass of muscle. The form is all there. Beautifully shaped ass, broad chest, impressive pecs, fat calves, but it has all gone a bit soft. Still, I luxuriate in it. I also have a bit of trouble deepthroating his wanger. Nice head on that wanger. Would be a fun fuck. He then gets down on his knees and lays back allowing me full access to his junk. I waste no time and now deepthroating is no longer an issue. Saliva control is. I am wetting him down like he’s on fire. Eventually he rolls me on my side and starts fucking my face. I keep trying to right myself enough to position my throat in a way that he has easy access. With a mighty roar he comes…. It is animal. It is fucking hot. I love it. He cleans up, using more paper towels than anyone. I return to my starting position on the blanket; on my knees. I apologize for ‘the mess’ and he says no problem. I’m not sure if he thought I was referring to my anon faux pas or my excessive slobber. He dresses and leaves. I am so turned on.

But no one else shows up. I think when I poked my head out the door, I broke the trust barrier and thus would be rewarded no more cum that day.

Still, three loads is nothing to be ashamed of. And it was a good time. One of them emailed me that he wants a second go. I think two out of the three were married.

I hope I get to do more. Of course, in the near future, I hope to add my ass to the mix.


Thursday, July 16, 2009

The Problem with BB

What a conundrum. Okay, so there are many out there who would say that taking a stance on the practice of barebacking is a no-brainer. Barebacking is dangerous. It risks the individual’s health and the health of those that individual comes in contact with. It’s not just a matter of HIV – it’s also a matter of syphilis and HPV and any number of other STDs.

The syphilis epidemic among gay men is of concern. The legions of tweeked-out Tina lovers with their suppressed immune systems (due to drug use and sometimes HIV) are gaga for barebacking. And while I it is tempting to lay all of the blame on their morphed little pointed heads, I realize that would be unfair. You can contract syphilis through oral sex. You also needn’t be tweeked-out – just bareback.

So is the syphilis problem overstated?

Probably. Considering the number of people reported with syphilis compared to the size of the general population, or even the gay male population for that matter. But they claim there is the possibility of creating a drug-resistant strain, just like that other bogey man, the HIV SuperVirus, that the scientific community and the media have been promising us for years. Okay, so maybe I’m being a bit too snide. Hey… it could happen. The potential is there. According to the media. And science. And maybe common sense.

STDs are no fun. Period. Avoid if at all possible. That should be the bottom line. Right?

Keep in mind – we’re dealing with a scientific, social and moral conundrum here. I have the right to plead totally confused, don’t I? Confused, yes. Ignorant? No.

And HPV? The stuff that got Farah in the end (shameless pun, tasteless pun)(I love Farah). Now granted, according to my doctor, everyone – regardless of whether they are sexually active (actively taking it up the butt) or not – has HPV. It lays dormant and then suddenly it awakens and starts creating growths in your anal canal (Dat be dah butt, Bob). I know about this first hand, because I am now being probed and biopsied every three months and we are talking tender tissue, bubs. Those biopsies are majorly messing with my fun in the sun time. So fear the HPV, not just in the long run, but in the short run. Stupid biopsies.

And HIV? Well, no longer a death sentence, but still a major bummer. Those damn pill regimens really cut into one’s ability to be spontaneous. Not to mention the cost. Damn drug companies. Am I being serious? Sort of. Keep in mind, I’m confused. And a lot of people don’t have health coverage (Obama, are you listening? You’re being awful quiet these days.)

And then there is the social stigma involved. Being a barebacker is hell on one’s social standing. Fucking stupid snobby gays. Eh… we love to hate each other, huh?

So, okay… pretty much covered the STD downside of the whole BB scene, I think.

Ummm… the upside. It feels good. As a top, condoms are a hassle and I know a number of guys (including me) who have issues staying hard when their wiener is being suffocated in a latex cozy. As a bottom, I love them. They make for easy clean up and in the event that there is a little poop juice, no problemo. Just shuck off that messy rubber and you’re still good to go for a little oral. (Ahhh, poop juice – a bottom’s worse nightmare). But then, shit happens.

There is also the added pleasure of doing something frowned upon. There is something inherently fun doing something you’re not supposed to. Something dirty and sinful… you know, like butt sex. So butt sex minus condom equals icing on cake – or icing in butt, as the case may be. Icing on my chest. On my ass. On my face… but I digress.

There is also the allure of all the language associated with this practice. The notion of breeding someone and taking seed – very animal, no? And animal is sexy. Yes… yes it is. Grrr. Woof.

And – you get to belong to a community or scene, as the gay chat rooms like to call them. To be part of a scene within a community within a society – now that is self-definition in a nutshell. And you can splinter that down further by being a barebacking gay man who wears leather and is into feet worship. Or be a gimp (as in Pulp Fiction). I’m not sure what layer of gay hell gimps occupy, but I am sure it is not over populated.

And there it is… the ying and yang of barebacking. I understand it. I understand those that do it. I have done it on occasion and in the past, when I didn’t know better. I am guilty. I chose it. I own it. Go ahead and mark me with a scarlet BB.

I also understand the moral, ethical and biological threat that it presents. Morally, I am torn. The inner slut in me wants to ride in a sling all day wearing a blindfold with a bottle of poppers shoved up my nose taking loads until the jizz just runs out of much used hole. And the realist inside of me says… whoa! This is wrong. This is bad. This goes against the grain of common sense and self preservation.

You know what? I love reading blogs about people who practice barebacking. They are very proud of it. Flaunt it. Celebrate it. I don’t read them to feel superior – I am NOT. I read them because I enjoy them. It is sexy. It is dirty. It is trampy. It is fun. And because a majority of them are written by bottoms, I relate to them.

That said, there is one I read written by a young top. I relate to him, too. He has a power thing. He is also poz.

But top or bottom, they all seem to relish in one thing – power. It’s in their language – both those that are poz and are neg. They talk about pozzing people (sometimes unsuspecting people – but hey – when it comes to barebacking, is there really such a thing as an unsuspecting person?). They talk about charged juice and mixing it up. They talk about taking loads. There is something predatory about it. Something sadomasochistic about it. Dom and Sub. Something, maybe, a little evil. And because of this aspect of good and evil and their focus on it… to my mind they resemble comic book heroes (or villains, depending on your stance). It is an intoxicating world they live in.

And what about the bug chasers? Well, what about them? They seem to be on a quest as well. They want to bring to fruition that promised SuperVirus. I relate less to them. HIV is not anything I would wish on anyone. But they are part of the world of BB as well.

So, I should be anti-barebacking, right? The smug, sexless, designer label fashionista gays have this stance down cold. But then, so do the common sense gays.

Are the barebackers rebels? Is that part of their appeal? Yes. They are and it is. And let’s face it, giving it to the man (pun intended) is really part of what being part of a counterculture is all about.

Well, that’s my very flawed argument. Flawed and flailing and failing.

But what about love?

What about preservation of the species?

What about survival of the fittest? You know, weeding out the weak via natural selection.

A moment’s joy. Is it worth all the possible consequences?

Boy, if you thought this entry was flawed and pointless… wait until I explore the world of those with HIV who have sex with other people, but fail to disclose! Yes? Uh-huh. Bring it on! Boy… that issue? Clear as an Ann Coulter anal pap smear. (Why Farah? Why not Ann Coulter?)

Isn’t life complex? And icky.

Ann Coulter / Anal Pap Smear: same thing?


Friday, July 10, 2009

One of Those Beautiful Days

It was one of those beautiful days; blue skies filled with large white clouds and sunshine. It was late afternoon, going on 4:00 pm by the time I reached the prairie area. I left work for the day looking forward to the long 4th of July weekend and hoping to catch a little sun and fun before the holiday officially began.

As I walked toward the center of the prairie area, I noticed a slim, toned and tanned man with buzzed silver hair and a quick smile wearing a light blue Speedo. He had sunglasses on and said ‘hi’ as I passed. I said ‘hi’ back and continued to my favorite sunning spot.

Once there, I laid out my blanket and began to unpack my stuff; poppers, condom, and lube. I slipped out of my grey shorts, leaving on my socks and running shoes. Despite the hour, the sun was beaming down with a great intensity and it felt great on my body. I had worked out earlier that morning and was feeling good. I douched before leaving work, so I was prepared to have me a good time.

Facing away from the main path, I got on my knees, using the back of my thighs to hold the cheeks of my ass apart. Doing so ensured that anyone passing on the path directly in front of my little grass enclave a glimpse of my personal puckered enclave. Spurting a dab of lavender baby oil gel on my index finger, I smoothed it round my freshly shaved hole. It felt wonderful. I was excited - the anticipation rippling through me like laughter.

Each time someone I found remotely attractive ventured toward me, I would sit up on my knees and apply another generous dollop of the baby oil in the hopes of attracting a little attention. A tall, thin man, with a square jaw, and a moppy head of auburn hair walked past. There was something vaguely European about him. Perhaps it was his swimsuit or his pouty lips or his oversized pair of sunglasses. He looked like a Mick Jagger, circa 1984. I thought he might be in his early forties. In any case… he continued walking, but I gave him a show. Shortly after, a very gruff, barrel-chested man, with a balding head, a thick mustache and a muscular body full of black fur strode by. He avoided me at first by taking another path, but then stopped, saw me and decided to check me out. He got a show, too, pausing just long enough to take it all in before heading off toward the beach area. A few others wandered by, but no one I was interested in. One of them was this pale farmer I met two years ago. I knew him to have a foot fetish, but that was not the part of my body I hoped to titillate this fine day.

I was thinking of pulling up my shorts and checking out some of the other paths when Mr. Jagger reappeared. I repeated my earlier performance and this time he seemed a little more interested. In fact, he continued down an adjoining path and eventually settled in the grassy knoll directly behind my area. There he spread a t-shirt on the ground and sat down.

He was wearing sunglasses so it was hard for me to figure out his interest level. Soon, the muscled furry guy with the mustache returned for another walk around and I took it for granted that something must be up between the two of them. But I was wrong, and after a brief sweep of the area, the mustached one disappeared. That made me a bit braver. I put back on my shorts and tentatively approached Mick Jagger’s lair.

As I peered over the tall grass surrounding him, I noticed he was still sitting on his t-shirt, but his swimsuit was now clutched in his left hand. He cautiously placed the suit over his crotch, but not before I got a glimpse of the nice hard on he was sporting. I smiled. He relaxed, set the swimsuit aside and began stroking his dick. I moved in slowly, eventually getting on my knees before him. I took a short whiff of poppers as he spread his legs wide and without a word spoken between us, I took his dick in my mouth. It was very average in size – probably only 6.5 inches, but it was reasonably thick and quite attractive. I deep throated it with no problem and his moans told me that this was the way to go. I worked the underside of the head of his dick with my tongue and lathered the length of his cock generously with my spit. I was enjoying it, taking my time. I suddenly remembered what fun sucking cock is. Mick surprised me by coming rather quickly. I dutifully swallowed his load and cleaned up his crotch with my mouth and tongue. When done, I stood, turned and returned to my alcove, leaving Mick to put himself back together again. In short order he gathered his things and disappeared. We waved at each other and that was that.

I thought to myself… well, one down.

I hung around my blanket for awhile. Nothing much was happening. In spite of the beautiful sunny day there didn’t seem to be many people about. I wandered over to the other side, where I had first spied the silver haired man. I’d seen his head pop up among the grass from time to time and decided to strike up a conversation. Normally, I am not a very social person. Conversations in a cruising environment like this can be very disconcerting for those hunting for dick, but given that there seemed to be no one else around (save the guy with the foot fetish) I decided ‘what the hell’.

I walked up to the guy’s alcove and there he was: naked, lying on his back, still wearing his sunglasses and, most noticeably, a cockring. He was extremely tan, with a boyish face and a toned, swimmers build. I figured him to be slightly younger than myself, perhaps in his late thirties. His legs were slightly spread. His nice sized dick lay on is abdomen accompanied by a really large nut sack, both just as tan as the rest of him. We made small talk. He claimed to know me and said we had played before. I struggled to remember (ah, the effects of poppers). We talked a bit more, mostly about sex, cops, cruising and outdoor activities. Then he mentioned camping and that rang my bell – it was Kevin. We had met mid-spring at another cruising spot. We had made out, kissed, and sucked each other off. We talked a bit more. He kept saying how there was nothing better than having your cock sucked outside. Taking a hint (for a change), I dutifully sank to my knees and took his semi-hard dick in my mouth. We were having a great time. For some reason I was really getting into sucking dick; taking my time, savoring the experience and allowing my mouth to try all sorts of variations. In a moment he was hard as a rock. At full attention his dick was probably 7.5/8 inches. I sucked his balls and really worked a lot of saliva into the mix. When deep throating his dick I would take it all the way to the base of his dick and then swallow. Guys really seem to enjoy this, as long as no teeth are involved, and since Kevin wasn’t super thick, I had no problem keeping my teeth off him. He really made me work for it. I worked his nips with my fingers and my tongue and then went back to work on his dick. We both seemed relaxed enough with the situation to not be in a hurry or act skittish. The combination of the sun, the sex, the poppers, the nudity… I just absolutely relished it. And so did Kevin.

Holding my mouth all the way down on his dick, Kevin finally shot his load. It was a huge one. I swallowed and then proceeded to do some clean up work with my tongue – something I normally don’t bother with, but I was in a very giving mood. We made more small talk as he stood and slipped on his shorts and shoes and began to pack up his stuff. I mentioned that as much as I was enjoying sucking dick today I was really hoping to get fucked. He agreed, saying there is nothing better than taking it up the ass in the great outdoors.

As we talked, a white-furred, barrel-chested daddy with a goatee walked by and I knew that I would soon have some place else to be. Kevin left and I made my way back to my blanket for my usual clean-up; a deep gargle of Listerine and a wipe down with a disinfecting wipe. I also paused long enough to check if my ass was clean and then re-lubed it. I really wanted to get fucked. But it just didn’t seem to be in the cards… yet. Maybe a certain goateed Daddy would do the trick – the trick being me, of course.

Now when I say Daddy, it has nothing to with age. It has to do with the way they carry themselves. Granted this particular Daddy was definitely my age or a bit older, but he had that air of authority about him – one I planned to respect and obey.

I walked back to the area where the Daddy had set up camp. My first sweep was to just check out what kind of situation his situation was in. Sometimes people come there to sun. Sometimes I’m not their type and their not interested. Sometimes they are there for the same reason I am, which means we are not compatible. I try to be sensitive to the needs of others and not be a bother.

He was lying on his back, naked, his arms at his side. He had on a cockring, so I was pretty sure he was not there just to soak up the sun. He had on sunglasses and the rim of his baseball cap was tipped forward to cover his eyes. He was nice and beefy - the kind of bear I go for. There was something super masculine about him and I dug it. I stood for what seemed like the longest time at the mouth of his enclosure watching him for even the slightest sign of interest or acknowledgement. He didn’t move. I then took a step forward. I imagined myself falling swiftly upon his dick. Would he react in horror? Would he reject me? I took another step forward. What if he wasn’t interested? He’d just gotten there. Maybe he was waiting for a friend or something better to come along. Standing at the foot of his feet (how is that for declension?) I knelt down. Slowly I reached out and touched his dick. His lips parted, but other than that he said nothing, giving me no indication of whether I should stay or go.

So I went for it. I took his soft dick into my mouth. I noticed his hands, large and meaty. I have a thing for masculine hands… they just really get me off. As this seemed to be my day to enjoy sucking dick, I used every trick I had in my bag, swirling my tongue about like a pliable, wet, blender. He responded quickly. At full mast, his dick was about 8 inches. It was fun to play with because it was tapered, growing wider at the base – and even then, not all that wide. Again, I savored the act of sucking cock. Pausing just long enough to take a whiff of poppers, I was quickly swept up in my quest for cum. My hands worked his body – massaging his shoulders and arms, his chest and nipples – while my mouth danced around his dick. At one point, I put my hands in his and he held them tightly. That was just enough for me to give my efforts that extra something that puts a man over the edge. With a low moan, my new-found Daddy let go and shot a hot load deep in my throat. It was wonderful. I was so pleased to please. I began to clean him up and he said thanks. I told him ‘any time’ and made my way back to my blanket on the other side of the prairie.

While I was playing with Daddy, another man had arrived. He had definitely seen me servicing Daddy and I wondered if I would now be viewed as a slut and of no interest to him. Of course I meant to find out. After gargling, wiping down, and re-lubing my ass, I made my way in his direction. He had chosen the spot previously occupied by Kevin. As I walked by I crossed paths with the goateed Daddy, who, dick spent, had packed up and was now headed out. I felt like a total slut, but part of me also didn’t feel too self-conscious about the whole scene. I was going with the flow. Whatever life offered me today, I was going to take it in my mouth and make it blow its load.

The new guy was about six foot, possessing a sturdy body, and a chest of black fur. He wore glasses and a pair of black silk bikini underwear which sported a nice full pouch. It was obvious that he had not spent a great deal of time in the sun, but he had a hearty, healthy appearance about him. He also had a black goatee and a shaved head. As he turned to set something down behind him, I noticed a tattoo on his lower back, right above the band of his underwear. It was of two dolphins swimming in a circle – sort of an aquatic play on the ying and yang symbol. It seemed vaguely familiar and I had to wonder if I had met this man someplace else.

As I was getting my first good look at the new arrival, Kevin suddenly reappeared. We smiled at each other, but said nothing. Kevin resettled into a spot right next to the new guy and suddenly I was at a loss as to how to proceed. I wish there was a book on cruising etiquette. I was in a slutty mood, but didn’t want to be a pushy pig. Kevin certainly had needs, too. I had satisfied some of them, but I bet he would like a nice dick in his pie hole, not to mention his asshole. I wondered: should I back off completely and let Kevin have this one?

At this point it occurred to me that I had been in the direct sun for quite some time, so I took this opportunity to move away and stand in a shaded area, surrounded by trees and deep gullies. Kevin laid down, only occasionally raising his head above his grassy confines to check out what was going on. But Dolphin Man, took note of my move. He remained standing for some time, but seemed reluctant to leave the confines of his abode. So I decided to put on a little show. My shorts were riding really low, so it was very easy to make them ride even lower. Eventually the string that held them at my waist came undone and I just decided to step out of them completely. I relished bending over and picking them up, or tying my shoe laces – making sure that my ass was pointed in the direction of Dolphin Man. He seemed to take this as permission to shed his black silk underwear, but I failed to catch a glimpse of his member, as he immediately sat down. Still his head would pop up from time to time, so I took this as a sign of interest. I put back on my shorts and approached.

We talked. I stayed on the pathway, so as not to intrude on his nudity and he sat on his knees, so that only his head and his upper body were visible. We spoke about the weather, the summer, the upcoming holiday. Then Kevin, who was nude again too, joined the conversation from the safety of his grass cubicle. After explaining that I needed to get out of the sun on occasion for fear of burning, and talking more about activities that were going on over the weekend, the conversation stalled to a natural silence. Kevin laid back down and so did Mr. Dolphin. I was about to move back into the shade when I suddenly decided to go collect my things and set up shop in the spot vacated by Daddy.

Upon my return, my conversation with both Dolphin Man and Kevin resumed … this time steering in a definite sexual direction – perhaps because this time I chose to leave my shorts with my blanket and bare all for all to see. Still, Mr. Dolphin remained on his knees throughout, although I did suspect that he was now playing with his dick a bit. This time, when the conversation hit a lull and Kevin lay back down, I decided to get brave and keep talking to Mr. Dolphin. As I spoke, I took a step forward, and then another and another, until I stood at the mouth of Mr. Dolphin’s enclave.

It was pretty obvious that he had been playing with his dick. It was erect and just as sturdily built as the rest of him. It had a nice upward curve to it and seemed to be about 7 inches long. The most impressive thing about it was its girth. It was set off by a nice fat sack of balls, the sight of which made my mouth water. I didn’t wait for an invitation – I just got on my knees and swallowed the entire length of his dick. The moan that escaped his lips told me that I was on the right path and that’s when the real dialogue began. With each mighty swirl of my practiced tongue, Mr. Dolphin would let out a satisfied sound, the kind that really gets me going. Mr. Dolphin leaned back and let me have full access to all his goods, which I used to both our advantages by alternately going down on his dick and deep kissing his adorable face. He turned out to be a great kisser.

So there I was, on my knees, with a fat dick down my throat and my ass up in the air. I was in pig heaven. The sun was beating down upon my back and I was loving it, totally lost in the moment – when suddenly I feel – exactly what I had been longing to feel – the head of a nice fat dick pressing against my pre-lubed hole. I did’t even have the opportunity to take my mouth off Mr. Dolphin’s dick before I felt that fat beauty spreading the ring of my hole. Once I saw that a condom was in place, I moan my approval and continue to deep throat Mr. Dolphin who is really getting into this scene. As I paused long enough to reach for the poppers to take a big hit (the dick knocking at my back door was of a size that demands a little help from Dr. Poppers), I turned around and saw it was Kevin! I leaned back and thanked him by giving him a big kiss. For the next fifteen minutes I was living some kind of porno dream, being pig roasted in the open under a loving sun.

Kevin is clearly very versatile and throws an incredible fuck, alternating between slow 'n smooth and jackhammer thrusts. At one point he was taking his dick all the way out of my hole and then plowing back inside – only to hold it there and then move into a slow grind. Mr. Dolphin is clearly having a great time, too. Eventually, with just my lips on the very tip of the head of his cock, he shoots his load into my mouth. Once this happens, Kevin ceases banging my hole, explaining that it was too bad he came earlier because he would love to seed my hole. He explains later that seeing my raised, lubed hole sticking up like that, he just couldn’t resist sticking his dick in it.

So now the only questions is… do I get to cum? I sure do, thanks to Mr. Dolphin, who pulls me onto his lap while inserting a finger in my ass. I’m hard as a rock and it only takes a few deep kisses to send me over the top. But the amazing thing is what Mr. Dolphin is doing with his magic finger! He is working my prostate and when it comes time for me to come, the way he is manipulating it causes me to shoot like I haven’t shot since I was sixteen! Gobs and gobs and it shoot all over the place with an urgency that makes me giddy and proud.

Everybody cleans up and packs up. We laugh. We share plans for the weekend. I repeatedly thank them. We then all go our separate ways - no one smiling more than I. It was an amazing two hours of summer bliss.

And I have never been happier – ever!

PS – the pics enclosed are of me taken at the prairie where this story took place

Thursday, July 02, 2009

Daddy's Boy

I enjoy sexual role play. I’ve done a few different scenes. The whole improv aspect of it appeals to the slumbering thespian in me. A few of the scenarios I have played out include: VCR Repairman (roped and raped), Coach / Jock (played both roles at different times), Teacher / Student (I was the student), Cumslut (I was the bitch in heat), Massage Therapist (played both roles at different times – I give good massage), Dinner Guest (seduced by a committed couple by the time dessert hit the table), Priest / Altar Boy (I was the ‘Altered’ Boy) and Daddy / Son (played both roles at different times).

The latter seems to be a rather popular and common fantasy among certain gay men. I have played Daddy Top and Daddy Bottom. I have also played both Son Top and Son Bottom. The taboo of incest hovers somewhere above the action, and while I am very much aware of it, I am able to ignore it and get into the whole ‘Letters to Penthouse’ vibe as needed. I’ve never fantasized about my own father in a sexual manner. If I did have a son I would have the good sense never to cross that line. So, playing such scenarios out with complete strangers, no matter my role or position, rarely inflicts pain upon my psyche. Some fantasies should never become realities.

My most recent role playing sessions involved a particular individual – with him in the role of Top Son and me, playing the Daddy Bottom. Fortunately, in this case, he plays my adult son. I have had the unfortunate experience of playing someone who wanted to be infantilized, which I played up to a point and then, when sufficiently nauseated, put ‘Baby’ down for a nap claiming I would be right back with a bottle and then fled the scene. Some realities should never be fantasies.

My Son, Daddy’s Boy, hit me up one night on the net. I had an ad proposing a walk-in scene, in which a top would find me blindfolded, naked and on all fours with my lubed ass sticking up in the air. His profile listed his preference as bottom, so I was surprised that he was interested. He told me the scene was really hot and that he would like to add an element of role play, namely Daddy / Son. I was GGG and a time was arranged.

Daddy’s Boy is 28 years old, about 5’9”, with a sturdy build, reddish hair, a charming smile, a cute face and mischievous eyes. He’s a tad furry with a full head of hair. His cut dick is in the 7” range and is reasonably thick, set off by a nice, relaxed pair of just-the-right sized balls. He’s a good looking man.

The first time we played, my scenario, due to the blindfold, prevailed. There was just a touch of Daddy/Son interplay, which picked up speed and urgency the closer we got to mutual orgasm.

It was late at night (well after midnight) and we were playing in a house that was in the midst of renovations. Role play requires a good deal of trust and given the environment, the time, the lack of sensory perception on my part due to the blindfold, the ability to maximize the situation’s potential was limited. We had a great time. Everyone got their cookies. We both enjoy poppers and have a sense of adventure and humor when it comes to sexual relations. While his oral abilities, to this day, are merely satisfactory, he has a lot going for him as a lover. He throws a decent fuck. So if it seemed a little tentative that first time - I think the uniqueness of the situation resulted in the trust issues, the kind that inhibit many people when they initially get naked with a stranger.

We played the scene as if he was coming home after a night on the town and just happens to walk in on dear old Dad, who is naked, blindfolded and on all fours waiting for a buddy of his to show up. The old man is embarrassed as hell and the son takes full advantage of the situation, giving Dad what the no-show trick failed to provide. Overall, it was a successful night of fun and games.

It’s my usual practice to send an email of thanks the following day (if I enjoyed the encounter – or more importantly, if I didn’t regret the experience). I keep it short and sweet; “thank you, that was fun”. I do this as a means of keeping the door open for possible repeat business. I would say 80% respond, with 50% of those suggesting a repeat performance or a future assignation.

Daddy’s Boy definitely wanted to get together again. I was on board. The second time we met was during the day. It was a Saturday afternoon. I’d been working at the same house, this time in the yard. He found me in my work clothes – torn, dirty jeans, a ripped up t-shirt and a b-ball cap. I was a bit on the sweaty side, which I knew he would be cool with, as he never wore deodorant, had mentioned that he had a thing for fresh man sweat and liked to eat arm pits (another thing we have in common – Like Dad / Like Son). I greeted him like a Dad would with a big barrel hug. I kept it very folksy, very blue collar with just a touch of country hick thrown in for fun. He responded well. I gave him a tour of the grounds and then the house. Throughout the tour I made a point to pat his back and shoulders, touch the small of his back, and gently punch him on his upper arm. Once inside, I began to pepper my commentary with compliments regarding his physical appearance. Keep in mind – this was the first time I had actually laid eyes on him. And I liked what I saw.

The house is on the small side, so the hallways are narrow – which made it easy to accidently rub up against my boy. Then I started asking about his personal life and asked if he was ‘getting any’. Then I just grabbed his crotch asked how much baby batter he had stored up in his old flesh balloons. He laughed, we kissed. He’s an excellent kisser. I keep up my end of the banter; sharing how horned up the old man is and how good it is to see my boy.

I compliment him on his various body parts as I strip him of his clothing. I leave his underwear on and crouch down in front of him. His trapped dick looks wonderful as it points down creating a perfect mound in his black designer briefs. Finally, after breathing him in and teasing his dick beneath the fabric, I move the elastic band of his briefs past his hips and unleash his happy monster. I immediately take the head of his dick in my mouth and savor it, running my tongue along the ridge of his mushroom head. Then, opening wide, I engulf him… swallowing him whole, right down to his trimmed pubes. He makes appreciative noises and I am in heaven.

We take our time, pausing often to kiss and make eye contact. The dialogue flows pretty naturally. He’s my boy, and I’m his Daddy. He wants to fuck me. I encourage him to fuck me like a man, and to show Daddy what he’s made of. It’s hot and the intensity builds. It’s intimate and passionate.

We played for yet a third time and then, the house I am renovating is done and I lose access. I don’t hear from my boy for the entire winter and spring.

Then, the weekend of Gay Pride, I find myself on-line, checking on both mail and male. He catches me on one of the sites and sends me an email. I’m working on another house and invite him to stop by and visit me. We set up a time and a date and the father and child reunion is a go.

He walks in the house as I’m getting out of the shower. I just finished mowing the lawn. He is dressed in business clothes, having come from the office and I immediately notice a difference. His hair is buzzed short. It alters his look, making him look even more manly, less like a boy. He looks hot as hell. We make small talk as I finish drying off. I’m standing nude, save for the towel and my dick gets hard just looking at him. This does not go unnoticed, but he is in no hurry. We are more relaxed with one another and while there is an air of anticipation, we both seem determined to savor it.

Things escalate. I help undress him, noticing the change in his body. He’s more muscular, but then so am I. Apparently in the interim we have both been hitting the gym. He admires my body and the Daddy/Son dialogue takes its natural course – but with a difference, an addition. This time he loves me. He loves his Daddy and is not afraid to say so. And Daddy, in turn also loves his Son. This added intimacy only heightens our experience. In the back of my mind I wonder if our use of the word is perverse – but then, we’re both adults and the rules are well defined between us. The love we speak of exists only here, in this moment, as we ebb and flow into one another. No one is in a hurry. There is no fear, no mistrust. We embrace and caress and feed one another. I bite his nipples and he loves it. He buries his tongue in the pit of my arm and I do the same to him. Our kisses are light and then brutal. It seems his Daddy can do no wrong when it comes to pleasing his Son.

I suck his dick, he sucks mine. We kiss and make out. We suck on each other more. We pass poppers between us. And then he tells me he wants me on my knees. He wants to fuck Daddy. It is incredible. He is in control and takes his time. He teases my hole, just fucking it with the head of his dick only. Then he goes deep. He tells me he wants to breed me; wants me to have his fucking babies. Then he starts pulling all the way out and slamming it back in – it feels fucking wonderful. I love it. He keeps telling me how much he loves his Daddy and Daddy’s ass. I start arching my back and soon am practically sitting back on his dick. He repositions himself so he still has leverage and the sensation in my ass is incredible as his cock moves swiftly in and out. My dick is standing at full attention, rock hard and ready to spurt. I start encouraging my boy to seed me. To use that hole and show me what it’s good for. We work each other up into a frenzy, as he pushes on my upper back, pushing me down, then pushing down on my lower back so he can finish fucking me doggy style. He slams into me with a fury all the while professing his love, climaxing at the same moment that the jizz begins to shoot from my dick. We are both rocked by our orgasms and left panting and heaving, wrapped tightly up in one another. Spent and awash in the heat and glow of an intense fuck.

We linger. We are grateful. We get up.

We make small talk. He tells me I am one of the few men he is able to top. He says there’s something about me. I compliment his performance.

More small talk. Some laughter. We gush, flushed with the excitement of our tryst.

We dress.

We kiss good-bye, our eyes peering deeply in an attempt to catch the presence of something else, something unnamed. And then we leave one another, a bit warmer and happier.

Man, I love a good home cumming.