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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.

Friday, November 06, 2009

An Exceptional Wednesday: Another Monkey Just Got Its Wings

On occasion the stars align and I get to have a well-timed adventure or two. Such an occurance happened a couple of Wednesdays ago. I got horny during the day at work and started emailing my list of fuck buds to see who might be in a similar mood and respond.

On this particular Wednesday two of my buds were in agreement. I worked out the logistics with each via email, completed my day at work and then set out to make some magic happen.

My first trip took me to St. Paul, to the apartment of my longest-running fuck bud. We met about ten years ago. At that time he was a struggling grad student. His financial circumstances seemed so perilous to me one year that I was concerned he would freeze during the winter and gave him a leather coat for Christmas. The apartments he occupied were always quite untidy and he had this long-haired white cat that shed like crazy; that fur was everywhere. The other thing that used to bug me? No bed. He slept… well, to tell you the truth I’m not sure where he slept. He was never asleep in my presence. But there was no bed; which meant we had to fuck on the floor and that always resulted in rug burns and my sweat soaked body being covered in cat fur. Not fun. But then it so was! Fun. Wicked fun.

When I first met him I thought he was middle-eastern; he’s not, it turns out he’s Hispanic. Muy caliente! His chest is huge, his arms well-defined with muscles, his face an amazingly handsome sight and his dick: nicely thick and sized. His legs are beautiful. Oddly enough, considering he’s a top, his best feature is his ass. Buffed to a high sheen, it’s immaculate and so firm it’s like gripping a pair of well inflated basketballs. He has always been an intense lover, very passionate, though a bit on the rough side. Sexy as all-get-out, we’ve been in sync since the get-go. Whatever little experiment he wanted to explore, I was only too willing to go along with it, even the ones where I ended up with a big lip or the occasional bruise (yes, he had a tendency of getting carried away). He’s a bicyclist and a runner, very strong and his virility and masculinity are not to be questioned for a second. I love his eyes and he’s not above murmuring amazingly sexy compliments as he plows my ass. I keep imaging that I’m Melanie Griffin and he’s Antonio Banderas: the comparison works; I don’t get what Antonio Banderas sees in her (she’s kind of a train wreck), though he’s incredibly devoted to her and I do not doubt for a second the sincerity of his love. The same could be said of me and my Antonio – I don’t get what it is he sees in me, I just hope he continues to see it.

When I first met him, I was not much of a bottom. He helped change that. From day one he wanted my ass. I finally gave it up to him and have kept doing so for years.

Then we lost touch. A couple of years had gone by when, out of the blue, he contacted me. He was back in town. My grad student was now… well, I can’t tell you what he became, but it’s a great job and to be honest I’m a little jealous. Then again, it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. Turns out he was in another state for a year or two. He hated it and when an opportunity came to move back to Minnesota he grabbed it. Lucky me. My Antoinio is a bit older now, more filled out. I think age has also tempered his tendency to get carried away in the sack. Plus; he now has a bed, for which I am very grateful in a number of ways (and so are my knees, elbows and back). Also, he hasn’t lived in this apartment long enough to really mess it up and the kitty cat is no more. Adios, el gato.

My Antonio loves music, so when I arrive on this occasion he’s playing some European dance station which immediately sets the mood. While we don’t exactly tango, we are both into the mood and feel of the music and it always adds a sense of theatricality to our fucking. On this occasion he’s impressed with my work clothes (he’s a bit of a label conscious fashion fascist) and takes great joy in undressing me. He’s dressed in only a pair of running shorts and a white tee. Even his bare feet are sexy and I can’t wait to get my mouth on him. We kiss as he undresses me and our dance begins. Once stripped, he grabs my ass and tells me how much he loves it; which is really generous of him, considering my melon is no longer as firm as it was ten years ago. It doesn’t matter. I slip down to my knees, shuck down his running shorts (the elastic band of gets caught on his rock hard disco stick - boing!) and take his dick into my mouth. After that we just get lost in one another. My mouth is all over his body which is quite sensitive in certain areas (arm pits, nipples). Surprisingly, for such a macho motherfucker he has no problem with me eating his ass. I dive in deep, sucking and licking like it is some divine pussy that I will get to seed. Not that that would ever happen, but I like to pretend. At most, I manage the tip of my index finger up there while I work his balls and dick with my mouth and throat.

While the passion, basic mechanics and intensity of what we do sexually with one another has remained the same, some things have changed. Gone are the experimental desires that used to color our sessions. I think he got it out of his system or realized that water sports hold only so much fascination and that wrestling and bondage to the point of inflicting injury really is not sexy at all. Maybe he just cherishes me a bit more now that I’m back in his life. He hasn’t spoken specifically about his time away or the lovers he encountered, but I do know that whatever he found there, it’s left him wanting and a bit unfulfilled. Another thing that has changed? He now pays a lot more attention to my dick. He used to never suck my dick. Now? Sixty-Nine is his favorite number.

We roll around on the top of the bed for over an hour. I love it best when he’s lying on top of me. There is something about the weight of him, his massive chest, his eyes melting into mine – it just makes me feel so fully possessed.

And that’s the thing about my Antonio, I welcome that sense of owner-ship. It’s not staged or blatant like it is in a role playing situation with a leather dom. It’s as if that sense is infused in the sweat that eventually rolls off his magnificent back as he pounds my ass into submission. Maybe it’s his eyes. It’s definitely in his kiss.

Normally, he never cums in me while fucking me. I think the condom prevents him from doing so. Usually he pulls out, removes the condom and then I get him off with my mouth. But today is an exception to the rule and he takes great relish announcing that he is going to cum. He finishes with a fine crescendo. We are both covered in sweat and the after glow lingers intensely. We swim in it, enjoying the intimacy, both of us a little reluctant to end it. As we are getting up to head to the shower I realize that I somehow managed to complete this entire rather intense encounter without one sniff of poppers. I guess I really got swept up in the moment. There was a time when any playtime with my Antonio had to include multiple hits of poppers due to potential pain and/or the marathon nature of our get-togethers. Ah, yes, the intensity has remained, but it is now tempered by common sense and experience. In short; we’ve both become better lovers during the intervening years.

We shower together. He loves to soap up my body. He comments on it and springs a hard-on once he slips the bar of soap between the cheeks of my ass. I soap him up, too, but I’m a bit more tongue-tied when it comes to doling out the compliments. I’m always afraid that whatever I say will sound stupid. We spend time deep kissing under the cascading water, towel off, tell each other a bit about our lives as we dress, give each other a peck on the mouth and… I’m out of there.

And I’m late. About fifteen minutes late.

The problem with setting up multiple fuck sessions is the timing. While you can approximate how long a given session will last (especially if you’ve played with that person before), you really never know. And with my Antonio, I really should have known better. He is a marathoner in more ways than one.

So I’m now heading out of St. Paul smack dab in the middle of rush hour. There is no way I am going to get to Uptown, find a parking place and have my ass in place on time. So I do something I never do… I use my cell phone while driving. This is something I avoid doing at all costs and is one of my pet peeves about other drivers. But desperate times call for the breaking of one’s hard and fast rules. I call. He answers. I tell him I am stuck in traffic and will be at least fifteen minutes late. He’s cool with that.

Somehow I manage to arrive in record time. Traffic was bad, but not that bad, plus the lights on Hennepin were all in my favor (that, and nobody was trying to take a left turn – always a real pain in the ass). I also snag a huge parking spot on a legal block, so I won’t have to wonder if my car is being towed while I am on all fours with my ass in the air.

I buzz the door and wait for my Iowa Farm Boy to appear. I call him my Iowa Farm Boy, not because he is from Iowa (he’s not) and not because he is a boy (he is not). It has to do with an odd mix of clueless innocence, a total lack of sophistication, and a muted emotionality that he exudes like cologne. We hooked up for the first time two years ago around Christmas time. In the two years I’ve known him I have learned very little about him. He’s a good boy. He loves his parents. He loves his cat. He has some very unique (?) hobbies. Maybe he’s a little boring; his affectation is very flat. And there’s something very country hick about him. Maybe it’s because he’s so tall and lanky. His face, however, is quite handsome in a Tab Hunter sort of way. And he’s not unintelligent. He’s quiet. And not lonely. He’s my age or older (I suspect older), but in great shape – in fact, I’m sure his fat index is probably in the negative digits. And speaking of digits! OMG!

Now there are many ways to assess the value of a dick; length and width being two. I am not a size queen, although I am always impressed by those blessed with abundance. My Iowa Farm Boy (let’s call him Duane – not his real name) is blessed. I think his dick is probably 8.5” plus and the thickness is nice, too, probably in the ballpark of 5.5 – 6”. That is all well and good (very, very good), but that is not the remarkable thing about Duane’s appendage. I should also mention that he has a nice pair hanging in his ball sack; totally edible and mouth watering. But that’s not what I am referring to either. There are two other features of Duane’s dick that make getting fucked by him a unique and highly satisfying experience. One has to do with the angle of his dangle. Even rock hard, it points down and curves to the right. This makes for an odd presentation when photographed, but works wonders for deep-throating and the inside of my hole. The other unique feature has to do with the head of Duane’s dick. It is very large with a rather unique shape. I want to say it is like a large strawberry, but strawberries are too pointed. Maybe a small egg is more the thing it reminds me of; the head of his dick is incredibly smooth and long. When I take it in my mouth I find myself not wanting to go further because I am completely satisfied. In fact, I would love to spend an afternoon sometime with just the head of his dick lolling around the inside of my mouth. Yes, I feel it is that unique and satisfying that it deserves its own afternoon.

However, an afternoon with the head of Duane’s dick in my mouth is really a pipe dream when you consider what sex is like with Duane. Okay, so there is something very, very perfunctory about it. Kind of like, let’s cover only the necessary material. There will be no discussion during the exam. Concentrate on the highlighted areas only. And you know what? I’m alright with that. Not just because he is my second fuck of the day, but because he is Duane. And Duane is unlike any other fuck. His predictability only helps satisfy my getting-dicked-ability.

First off, there is that dick of his. Duly noted. Second? The location and setting. His apartment is on the top floor of his building and his bedroom overlooks a very active part of uptown. This does not dissuade Duane from leaving his bedroom window uncovered. Once I arrive, he usually walks straight into the bedroom and turns his television on. There is always some gay porn tape at the ready with the volume up. He takes off his clothes as he watches the porn tape. I remove my clothes watching him watch the porn tape. This all takes place in front of the uncovered window. During the summer, he leaves the window open and the sounds and conversations from the street waft in. I know the fact that he is on the top floor really moots the whole ‘but people can see us’ thing, but there is still something very intimidating about it. And sexy, too, especially when I'm naked and I get on my knees between Duane and the television to take his dick in my mouth.

I usually get to spend about five minutes throating Duane’s dick. During that time I also pay some attention to his ball sack, but mostly I just enjoy the luxury of deep throating a man whose dick I can suck while he is standing by approaching his dick from below. It's a unique perspective. This is really the way whoever designed humans should have designed all men – with erections that point down. They slide down the throat so easily. Also? The cock sucker gets to enjoy the sensation of looking up at the object of their submissiveness. It’s hot.

Once the cocksucking portion of our play session is completed I am ordered to kneel on the bed while Duane slips a condom over his downward curving meat. There is no kissing. There is no conversation. In fact, throughout the entire session Duane usually remains mute, save for the occasional moan, groan or grunt. And this is where things start to get interesting. You see, it has been quite awhile since I have been fucked by Duane. His work schedule got all screwy during the summer months and so my summer was spent Duane-less. Something tells me that Duane’s summer might have been spent fuck-less. Why do I think this? Because Duane actually talks this time. And instead of entering my ass and then building up into an intense ram-fuck, he actually changes up his game significantly (for Duane). This time he seems to be concentrating on taking it slow. And the slow fuck is so the way to go. I am having a hell of a good time and Duane is telling me how amazing my ass feels. We don’t change positions – it is always doggy-style with Duane (I think he doesn’t want to look in my eyes), but we do change direction and rate of speed several times. He also changes his angle of penetration. This yields mixed results, but adds interest. He even bends forward over my back to put his lips near my cheek and breaths heavy in my ear. Fucking hot. And he tells me… he TELLS me when he is going to shoot his load. Usually Duane is good for a twenty minute fuck. And today is no exception. It’s just the way those twenty minutes are spent are so different in such a good way that it leaves us both breathless. When he shoots his load into the condom up my ass he does so moving so slowly and deliciously that my ass feels positively orgasmic.

He dismounts and stands by the side of the bed catching his breath. The condom is still on his dick with the filled end tip dangling deliciously. Normally Duane doesn’t allow me to touch him after he comes and he whips that condom off and disposes of it as fast as he can. But as he is catching his breath, I steal down to my knees in front of him and play with his still wrapped cock. He shot quite the load. I pull at the filled reservoir tip and squeeze it. Then I unroll the condom and unleash his dick. I then take the head of his dick in my mouth and work that last bit of cum out of the slit. This sends Duane over the edge. He moans deep. He doesn’t squirm away like most dudes. He seems to actually enjoy the intense sensation. After a bit I release his dick, clean up, get dressed and say good-bye. Duane is a bit chattier than usual and I suspect that I will be receiving an invitation to come back again soon.

As I get back to my car I realize that I have just experienced a most exceptional Wednesday. I also question my taste and wantonness. Maybe one guy a day really should be enough. I always feel like I am cheating. Not on them, but myself. Both the experiences I had were definitely worth their own, separate day. I wonder if by cramming them both into the same day I’ve cheated myself out of enjoying them completely. I think about the horrors of navigating all the logistics involved in arranging multiple fucks and am not sure the hassle is worth it in the end. I also wonder if it actually has a negative impact on my enjoyment of the moment.

Being a slut is hard work. Being a multiple-fuck slut is even harder. I don’t like working hard. Maybe that is why I’m a bottom.

Eh… don’t kid yourself. A good bottom works just as hard as any top.

But back to the issue at hand. Maybe my Antonio is not the only one tempered by common sense and experience. Maybe I am becoming... dare I say it... satiable.

Yeah. And monkeys fly out my ass.

And in a way, they do. Every time I tell an untruth another monkey gets its wings.

Remember that posting I did about never doing anyone twice? Well I am such a liar. There are exceptions to that rule; these guys being two of them. They are sort of my version of long-term-relationships. Long-term booty calls? And there is value in that. Well, maybe not value. Maybe I am confusing value with enjoyment, but hey… there’s value in enjoyment, just as there’s comfort to be found in the familiar. It’s also nice when the familiar changes just enough to keep things interesting. That kind of change I like and encourage.

Maybe I should change. Maybe I should only fuck one guy a day. I will try to be more chaste. I will mend my wicked, wicked ways.

Oops. Better stand back. Another monkey just got its wings.