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Saturday, December 25, 2010

Music 2010: Faves and Failures

Year end comes and tons of annual best of lists roll out like so much red carpet. I'm always a bit perplexed by their use of the word "best", because I'm pretty sure the word they actually mean to use is "favorite". For me, the idea of someone deeming something the best of anything raises immediate questions. What is the criteria being used? And what about personal bias? Which is exactly why the term "favorite" and not "best" should be used. Judgments and pronouncements are, by nature, based solely on personal bias. Without personal bias such lists could not exist. Even in cases where such decisions have been reached via consensus, bias is still at play due to the shared values and knowledge of the sampled population. Shared stimuli create shared experience which informs judgment and reason. Given that, I have chosen to compile a list of my favorite albums (Can we still use that term in the age of CDs?) and single tracks from the various music genres that I've enjoyed this year, as well as a short list of musical failures.

In using the term failure, I simply wish to convey that these musical offerings failed, for whatever reason, to resonate with me, personally - for they certainly have been successful in terms of sales. I'd also like to note that I have an almost total disdain for the use of auto tune. I rarely appreciate anything that Jay Z has to contribute to the musical scene, but he got it right this year when he called for the death of auto tune. It is a musical fad that has worn out it's welcome very quickly with me and I blame it, and the industry that continues to profit from it, for the current abysmal state of popular music. However, I have refrained from listing every artist who slides by more on image and PR stunts than actual talent while managing to lodge themselves into our collective consciousness with all the grace of an earwig (myth aside). Granted, there are exceptions to this rule and some have even landed in my list of favorites (usually on the strength of their songwriting). But on the whole, the likes of Kanye West, Kid Cudi, and Ke$ha leave me cold and find me reaching for the skip button. Given that, I won't bother including the contributions of those artists here.

So, for better or worse, here’s my list. I really encourage you to seek out those artists on my favorites lists that you are not familiar with, especially the more obscure ones. Your ears will thank you.

Favorite Albums:

Broken Bells – Broken Bells
Kelis – Flesh Tone
Goldfrapp – Head First
Minus the Bear – Omni
Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings – I Learned the Hard Way
Heart – Red Velvet Car
Holly Golightly & The Brokeoffs - Medicine County
Toni Braxton – Pulse
The Apples in Stereo – Travelers in Space and Time
MGMT – Congratulations
Ne-Yo – Libra Scale
Jaheim – Another Round
The Black Keys – Brothers
Arcade Fire – The Suburbs
LCD Soundsystem – This Is Happening
Vampire Weekend – Contra
Janelle Monáe – The ArchAndroid
Robyn – Body Talk Pts. 1-3
Dum Dum Girls – I Will Be
Jónsi - Go
Trey Songz – Passion, Pain & Pleasure
John Mellencamp – No Better Than This
Crowded House – Intriguer
Hole – Nobody’s Daughter
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
Beat the Devil’s Tattoo and The National – High
BT – These Hopeful Machines

Favorite Tracks:

Cee Lo Green – “Fuck You”
Kelis – “Acapella”
Trey Songz - We Can’t Be Friends
Twin Shadow – I Can’t Wait
John Mayer - Heartbreak Warfare
Ne-Yo – “Champagne Life”, “Beautiful Monster”, “One in a Million”
Broken Bells – “The Ghost Inside”, “Mongrel Heart”
Jaheim - Ain’t Leavin’ Without You
Donna Summer - To Paris With Love
Kristine W. – The Power of Music
Goldfrapp – “Rocket”, “Alive”,
Blake Lewis – “Heartbreak on Vinyl”
Katy Perry – “Firework”, “Teenage Dream”, “California Gurls”, “Peacock”
Lady Gaga – “Telephone”, “Alejandro”
Alicia Keys – “Un-Thinkable (I’m Ready)”, “Empire State of Mind”
Brandon Flowers – “Crossfire”
Keri Hilson -Pretty Girl Rock
Janet Jackson – Make Me
Sade – “Soldier of Love”
Robyn – “Hang With Me”, “Indestructible”, “Dancing on my Own”
Crystal Castles (ft. Robert Smith) – Not In Love
LCD Soundsystem – “All I Want”, “I Can Change”
Keren Ann – My Name is Trouble
Edward Maya & Vika Jigulina - Stereo Love
Erika Jayne – “Pretty Mess”, “One Hot Pleasure”
BT – “Suddenly” , “Emergency”
La Roux – In for the Kill (Scream’s Let’s Get Ravey Mix)
No Age -Fever Dreaming – No Age
God Awful Stuff:
Erykah Badu – New Amerykah, Pt. 2: Return of the Ankh
Ludacris – Battle of the Sexes
She & Him – Volume Two
Usher – Raymond V. Raymond, Versus
Chris Brown – “Deuces”, “Yeah 3 X”, “No BS”
Akon – “Angel”
Rick Ross – Teflon Don
Flo Rida – Only One Flo, Pt 1
T.I. – No Mercy, “Get Your Back Up”, “Got Your Back”, “That’s All She Wrote”
Nelly – “Just A Dream”
Nickelback – “This Afternoon”, “Never Gonna Be Alone”
Bruno Mars – “Grenade”
Christina Perri – “Jar of Hearts”
Sick Puppies – “Maybe”
The Black Eyed Peas – The Beginning, “Imma Be”, “Rock That Body”, “The Time (Dirty Bit)”
Soulja Boy – The DeAndre Way
Duck Sauce – “Barbra Streisand”

Friday, December 17, 2010

Cruising On-Line in Las Cruces: Part II: The Foibles of Youth

This is the second part of a two part series about a recent trip to Las Cruces, NM.
Foible (foi-ble) (foi b l): 1. A minor weakness or failing of character. 2. The weaker section of a sword blade, from the middle to the tip.
“Who’s he?” asks the 19 year old.

“I have no idea.” I reply. Because I don’t.

“Well..” says the 19 year old. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

He’s about to walk out the door and leave me with the 40 year old. Now, I’m not going to lie. There is part of me that is thinking – hey, how about an impromptu three-way? But, not only is the 40 year old giving off a weird vibe, but I can tell that the 19 year old is not experienced enough to think in those terms, nor is he interested, so I make a decision.

I call out “Hold on.” Turning to the forty-something dude I say “You. You’re gonna have to leave. Sorry. I don’t know what happened here, but this is not… you gotta go.” Dejected, the forty-something dude shuffles past the 19 year old and out of the room with an odd look on his face.

Once the door is closed, I sit on the bed. “What was that?” I ask, beating the 19 year old to the punch. I tell him I have no idea who that guy is. In my mind I’m thinking maybe he’s the other 40 year old that I’d given the room number to and he’d gotten the time wrong. Problem is this man didn’t look anything like that dude’s photo and the time he arrived was no where near the time I set up with the guy on-line, so I ‘m doubting it’s him. That’s when the 19 year old volunteers that he would have arrived sooner but was freaked out watching the other guy wander the halls, checking doors. The 19 year old tells me that he had approached my door several times, only to catch the other guy in the act of testing doors, like he was looking for ones that had been accidently left open!

Freaky. I really should be more careful.

After we get over our brush with weirdness, the 19 year old and I get down to business. His dick is about six and half inches and just okay. His kisses are fine, his pelvic action is fine… it’s all just fine. Was it memorable? Naw. Overall, I will have to rate it as a flavorless fuck. You think I would have been turned on by how young he is, but youth isn’t much of a turn-on for me. In fact, I like them older, and sometimes much older – because age usually equals experience (not necessarily, but typically). I make it as much fun for both of us as I can, totally getting into his black hair and fur. He is the type of guy who usually isn’t into me, and maybe that explains the lack of rapture between us – maybe he just isn’t all that into me. It’s a polite affair, hitting all the important points without much fanfare. Once he shoots his load, I dispose of the condom, hand him a towel and turn on the shower for him. Our small talk is much like the sex we just had – bland and colorless, like some bizarre PowerPoint presentation you sleepwalk your way through. So was I supposed to serve as his sexual mentor? Was this a missed teaching opportunity? Again, naw. I’m not responsible for the sexual development of some random trick. Besides, part of me believes you have to be born with the type of heightened sexual awareness that makes you a good lover. However, our less-than-spectacular tryst does help me make a decision about what the rest of my night will be like: sex free.

After we shower, he leaves and I return to the wedding party. I have a nice night, but much like the sex that preceded it, nice just isn’t cutting it. I turn in early, making promises to stop by the next day to visit with friends and family members.

Waking the next morning, refreshed, I get on-line immediately to see what I can scare up. This is my fun day. I can do as I please, as long as I keep the social commitments I made the previous day. Almost immediately I strike up a conversation with a guy in his mid-thirties, Italian! Yum, one of my favorite brands! He’s at a coffee shop just a few blocks away and would love to come over and fuck my ass. There’s something about him I like, maybe it has to do with his photo and the fact that it reminds me of any number of actors on various sitcoms. He has short, dark, curly hair, dark, piercing eyes, and a sweet set of lips. Shorter and stockier than me, he tells me he’s in good shape and is covered in dark fur. Grrrr. He’s really turned on by the thought of just walking into my hotel room and finding me naked with my ass in the air. The coffee shop is so close by I barely have time to check my ass, crack open the door and assume the position before he arrives. He dives right in, tongue first.

My ass melts onto his tongue as I steal a glance over my right shoulder to look in the mirror. He’s very handsome, something that makes me a twinge insecure, but I do my best to fight it and simply enjoy the moment. After eating my ass for about five minutes, he stands and begins to undress. I take this opportunity, to turn around and as soon as his dick is available, take it in my mouth. His seven incher is hard as a rock and surrounded by a mass of black pubes. In fact, his entire torso is covered in the same sleek fur which I enjoy to the fullest as my hands explore the rest of his body. It isn’t long before Italian guy is reaching behind my knees, pulling me forward and up ending me so that I land flat on my back with my legs in the air. Pulling me to the edge of the bed, he lines up his dick with my hole. He teases it playfully with the head of his dick as I hand him a condom. Shucking the rubber on like a pro, he lubes up my hole and goes to town. It’s good. There’s no kissing, and I don’t push the issue because he’s hitting all the right spots. He looks good, his muscles tensing up as he pounds away at my hole. He’s very aggressive and physical. Eventually we end up in a heap in the middle of the bed in a hot bit of 69 action. He shoots his load down my throat, I pull out and shoot on his chest. He’s a very likable guy; polite, affable and unassuming. While I was initially intimidated by his good looks, his pleasant demeanor puts me at ease. After showering, he heads back to the coffee shop.

I shower and go about my day, visiting people as promised and taking a drive up into the mountains. I have a very late dinner with family at a mediocre Thai place and return to my hotel where I hop on-line to see if I can rustle up a final taste of what Las Cruces has to offer. I have to be up before dawn (4:30 am), so I am hoping to get on (line) and get off (sexually) as quickly as possible.

Yet another 19 year old hits me up. Same black hair, same pretty eyes, same adequate, 6 inch dick. That college must be a magnet for mediocrity. This one’s a little softer looking and fleshier than the others. He’s turned on by the idea of anonymous hotel action. We set up a time, I rinse out my ass, crack open the door and assume the position. On-line, the dude comes on strong, promising to fuck the cum right out of me. In person? Kind of milquetoast. Entering the room, he stands near the door and talks to me for a bit. Realizing he’s not going to dive in as promised, I turn around and engage him in conversation. He’s sweet, a bit shy and very, very concerned about being able to shower afterwards. I do my best to reassure him that everything is cool and that I have a clean towel he can use afterwards. Tentatively he moves towards me and unzips. I take his dick in my mouth and soon we’re flailing away, sometimes awkwardly, ending up in the middle of my bed. He’s now completely naked and tells me he’s ready to fuck me. My mouth is on his dick at the time and as I raise my head off his cock to tell him I’m ready, too – he shoots a huge volley of cum that soaks the bottom of my chin. Yep. Dude is off and running and cumming. My mouth returns to his dick and nurses him through the rest of his orgasm. And… that’s all she wrote, folks. We linger; me, thinking he will get hard again and he, waiting for me to hand him that clean towel as promised. He showers for a long, long time, talking about absolutely nothing of interest to me the entire time, before finally leaving.

That’s it. I have had my fill of dark-haired, college boys. Now all I want is a man. A real, real man. It’s now midnight and I desperately want to nut, preferably while someone is fucking my ass. Back on-line, I get hit up by the older black dude from my first night in Las Cruces, but I’m not feeling it, so I pass. Trudging on into the thick of night, I’m not having any luck, all the while keenly aware that the clock is ticking. I decide to forgo sleep rather than have my trip end on such a lousy sexual note and eventually my persistence pays off.

There has been this guy on-line – late twenties, thin, tall, white, shaved head, big eyes, big dick and a macho heavy profile, uber sexy – whom I’d been seeing on and off for the last few days in the A4A room. He always seems to be going off-line just as I’m getting on. I sent him a ‘smile’ (A4A’s way to indicate interest) and hadn’t gotten any response, so I figured he must not be interested. Wrong! At 1:00 am he’s in the room and hits me up. His opening line? “I wanna fuck your ass. Deep. Where are you?” Music to my ears! I write back practically gushing about how much I’ve been wanting to meet him. I send him the necessary information and he tells me he’ll be there in 15 minutes. Good to his word, he arrives right on time, walking in on me, naked, on all fours, with my ass in the air. Not wasting a moment, he drops his jeans and presses the head of his rock hard dick against my aching hole. Man, did I want him to slip it in. Instead, he turns me around and makes me watch in the mirror as he slides his massive cock into my waiting mouth.

In person, he’s, shorter (than expected), thinner and sweeter than in his photos. He’s so lightweight, in fact, later I really get into muscling him around on the bed and come close to actually fucking him, but he begs off, and I back off. That night, we both take turns rimming each other, get deep into 69ing, frottage and the like. He’s an excellent kisser, making for a super hot intense encounter. I love his baby skinhead look, his hot tats, and his hot, hard, thick white trash dick. His fuck stick is super long (9”) and thick with a very slight curve to it. There’s no question that he knows what to do with it. An aggressive fucker, he slams into me every which way he can think of and I am in bottom heaven. An hour and a half flies by before the dude finally shoots his load deep in my gut. Once we both lose our loads, we curl into one another. I keep playing with his dick, which is quite sensitive now, not because I want more sex, but out of a kind of gratitude. He’s sweet, but edgy and he puts up with my need for cuddling for about five minutes.

He showers and leaves and then I shower. I contemplate hitting the sack, but it is now 3:30 and I am supposed to be out the door no later than 4:30. Still wired from the great sex I just had, I half pretend to sleep, afraid, for some reason, to turn off the lights. Fact is I just want to go home. This is my third stay away from my home in four weeks and all I really want is to have my dogs around me and to sleep in my own bed.

Bleary eyed, I pack and bid my room good-bye. Sex-wise, my stay in Las Cruces was a hit and miss affair, but at least it ended on a great note. My last encounter was the final crescendo in an otherwise spotty symphony and an excellent memory to take home.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Cruising On-Line in Las Cruces: Part I: Getting My Freaky On

This is part one of a two part series.

I had a wedding to go to in Las Cruces, NM. It was taking place at a hotel so I booked a room there. The wedding had a theme – it was a costume party and I planned to rent something for the occasion once I arrived.

I check in on Friday night. The wedding is the next night and I plan on staying thru Sunday, using Monday as a day of travel.

There’s a layover at the El Paso airport, and as I’m by myself and had my new Droid with me, I decide to check the net to see if there are any active mens rooms. There is – one. Having over an hour to kill before my connecting flight begins to board, I take that snaky train thing to the correct terminal and find the mens room described in the posting. Following directions, I go to the rear of the facility and plop my ass down in one of the stalls, drop trou and show hard. The room has two entrances, one at each end, with a wall of stalls facing a wall of sinks over which hangs a room-length mirror. I choose a stall in the middle of the room, not really expecting much. There is no one else around. Apparently this particular terminal is not well travelled.

Within a few minutes a young Hispanic walks through the room, peaking in the cracks of the stalls. He remains outside my cube while I show off my rock hard dick for about 5 minutes and then disappears, only to reappear five minutes later. This goes on for about a half hour. I think he may have pressed his own dick against the crack of the door and he definitely lets me know that he wants to suck my dick, licking his lips suggestively and going so far as to come into the empty stall next to mine and offer me a hand. But I’m not interested. The place is too well lit and there are several travelers who come in during this time period to use the facility for its intended purposes. I have to hand it to the young Hispanic, though. He has balls.

While playing with the young Hispanic, we are joined by a redheaded kid wearing sagger jeans and sporting a skateboarder look. First time he sits down in the stall next to mine I play it cool, figuring he’s just there to use the facilities. However, he’s not shy about letting his jeans fall all the way to his ankles so he can spread his legs and he lingers longer than a normal user. Soon I notice a lot of shadow movement on the floor of the stall he’s occupying. Peeking through the crack at the back of our conjoined stalls, I can see his backside quite plainly in the white porcelain tile that lines the back wall. He has a cute ass and he’s bent over looking at my spread legs under the stall wall. The young Hispanic returns and is soon checking out, not only me, but the redhead as well. Well, Red doesn’t care for that, and he picks up his jeans, zips up and bolts out of his stall. This spooks the young Hispanic and he runs off again. Red goes to the sink and washes his hands – about four times. He’s looking at me in the mirror for a bit before exiting. The Hispanic kid reappears and disappears, and then Red returns and we do basically the same thing that we did the last time he was there, only this time he is sitting on my other side. After a bit, Red leaves again. I’m watching the time and am about ready to go when Red returns for a third time. I let him get settled in and then decide that there is no time like the present. It’s time to put up or shut up. I reach an open palm under the stall wall that divides us. Holding it there for about 20 seconds I realize that this kid is probably not schooled in the art of tea room action. Pulling up my pants, I pick up my stuff and call it a day. As I’m walking out I catch the eye of a cute, balding guy about a foot shorter than me, but as I have a plane to catch I figure I’ll let him go tease Red.

Arriving at my hotel, I get on-line and set up my accounts to reflect my location. I work adam4adam, another site on which there are no members in the area, and put out an ad on Craigslist. I have lots of little obligations I have to keep during my time in Las Cruces, but I am hoping to coerce some guys into coming to my room to service my hole.

It’s Friday night and my hotel, as it turns out, is a few miles from New Mexico State University. So it should come as no great surprise that my first taker is a geeky looking twenty-something with a desire to walk in, fuck me and get out as fast as possible. I’m feeling comfortable in my surroundings and the kid is pretty cocky, acting like he does this with hotel guests all the time, so I’m game. Shortly before 9:00 pm, I crack open the door to my hotel room. Naked, I get on the bed, on all fours, with my ass facing the door. (From now on we will just refer to this as “assuming the position”.) Lube and condoms at the ready, my heart is racing as I wait for Contestant #1.

I am, of course, wishing I had some poppers with me, but, again, due to my fear that they would be confiscated at the airport, I decided to travel without. Contestant #1 enters quietly and quickly. I decide not to turn around and look at him until invited to do so. He was pretty specific about the set-up he was comfortable with, so I follow his directions to a “T”. (I do take direction very well.) He drops his pants and good to his word, enters from behind with little fanfare. I let him hump away for a bit before stealing a look over my shoulder. He’s better looking in person than in his pics; dark hair, pale white skin, thin and young. His cock is only 6”, but it’s hard as a rock and he seems to know what to do with it. In an attempt to mix things up a bit, I start fucking back onto his dick and this elicits one of the few oral responses I get from him. Suddenly, he grabs me by the hips and starts pile driving, working his load into me. With a satisfying sigh, he relaxes, pulls up his pants and exits, saying ‘thanks’. Not anything that’s going to cause me to lose my breath, but not the worst fuck either; impersonal, anonymous and… yes, way empty.

I rinse out my ass and get back on-line. A Hispanic dude, age 40, has been chatting back and forth with me since I got into town. He’s ready to come over, so I send him the room number, set up supplies and wait for the appropriate time to prop open my door. Assuming the position, I know that this one will be a lot more personal, as he promises lots of kissing, rimming and body contact. He arrives a little later than expected, enters the room and is immediately appreciative of what he sees. I wait for him to touch my hole before I turn around for a look. He’s about 5’8”, a tad stocky, with a winning smile and an enthusiastic outlook; this could be fun. I turn around on the bed and take his dick into my mouth. It’s about 7” and uncut. I also notice that he has two metal cock rings on: one at the base, behind his balls and the other, a much smaller one, around the base of his shaft, in front of his balls. There’s something about this configuration that makes me uneasy, but I go with the flow.

We immediately get swept up in the moment. Passionate, deep kisses, fully committed 69ing, voracious rimming and intense body contact are all on the menu and served up with a ferocity that takes me by surprise. The proceedings are a little too gymnastic for my taste; lacking a truly natural flow, but his enthusiasm is contagious and I stay in the moment. Twenty minutes in, I’m straddling him, riding his dick for all it’s worth.
And then a freaky thing happens.

Okay, so the truth is, sex is not always pretty. Sometimes the bottom is not clean, sometimes the top thinks being aggressive in bed gives him license to use his dick as a jackhammer for the entire time he’s fucking you resulting an a painful and joyless fuck, sometimes someone moves too quickly hitting someone in the face, sometimes someone pushes an emotional button they could not anticipate - bottom line: sometimes, things get messy and ugly. So here is a bit of ugly reality to go with your voyeuristic, thrilling, illicit, anonymous sex.

As I lean back on the bed in order change up the angle, I see red… as in blood - all over the sheets. Understandably, I freak. Jumping up I immediately check myself - nothing pouring out of me. I glance at him and notice the metal ring around the shaft of his dick. WTF? Still flustered, I race to the bathroom, wet a towel, wipe him down, wipe me down, race back to the bathroom, rinse towel, race back to bed and begin dabbing the sheets and comforter in order to remove the blood. I’m freaked, but he’s kind of casual about it. Is he doped up? Somehow, after repeated trips to the bathroom I manage to get all the blood out of the comforter and sheets. When they eventually dry the naked eye will be unable to detect that anything happened, unless you are doing some forensic-type testing. As I mentioned, he seems pretty cool about this, but I’m ragged out, thinking by impaling myself on his cockring I have somehow managed to ruin the rest of my weekend. I ask him if he’s bleeding and he tells me no. So is it me? All play ceases. Game over. I send him packing and go in for what I suspect will be a horrendous douche.

But it’s not.

In fact, it’s not me at all. My ass is fine. What the hell just happened? I’m not bleeding at all. There is no torn tissue. So, thinking it must have been him, I mean, who wears a cockring that way (turns out, a lot of dudes do)? I’m thinking the force of our fucking caused the ring to dig into the flesh of his engorged penis and break the skin. That’s what happens when you wear a cockring that is too small in that manner. That’s also what happens when you don’t wrap it up in latex.

I’m wary, but I’m horny, so I’m back on-line a half hour after the Hispanic dude has left. Pity, he was a lot of fun. It’s now near midnight. I’m tired from having travelled all day and I have things to do in the morning, so I am thinking about hitting the hay when I get hit on by this black dude. He’s big on kissing and rimming and he’s rather of charming. Stats are promising; age is good, and even though the pic is a bit distant and unfocused, based on the give and take while chatting things seem right on target. So, I bite.

It’s now 1:00 am. After cocking the door ajar, I assume the position. He walks in and immediately tongue dives my ass. Good to his word, he’s knows what the fuck he’s doing. I melt, as if on poppers. We spend over an hour and a half making out, fucking, kissing, and making small talk. During that hour and a half I learn – 1/ he lives about a half a block away, 2/ he thrives on late night booty calls and… 3/ while his on-line profile says he’s 49 years old, he is, in fact, 61. Really? His body is a little thick and his face does show some time, but then, I’m no spring chicken. I don’t care. His dick is big (over 8 inches and thick) and hard, his breath is good, and the man can kiss and eat ass like he born to do it. So I’m good and in good company. But I’m also tired, so when he takes his leave, I’m relieved and fall into a deep sleep.

Next day is filled with errands, including me finding a costume. I send two hours at this really cool costume rental place. It’s a mixed bag of packaged costumes, bits and pieces of vintage wear, and some modern glad rags. I end up picking out a bunch of bits and pieces to create my own glam rock creation featuring a pair of black, laced, leather biker leggings with spandex shorts, a weird alien belt that ends up looking like a subtle, futuristic cod piece, a gold lame’ vest with a metallic gold and black striped sleeveless tunic, a pair of super high black platform shoes (think Lady Miss Kier), all topped off with a black feather boa and gold lame’ top hat. From the waist down I look like a member of the KISS Army and from the waist up I look like a lean/mean Liza Minnelli!

A group of us have lunch at this awful BBQ restaurant and then I beg off, saying I need a nap. Which is code for “I have to get back on-line and hunt down some cock.” Which is exactly what I do. It’s 3:00 pm on a Saturday. The wedding is at 7:00 pm. I split my time between chatting on-line and getting ready for the wedding, which is taking place at the hotel. I have to report for duty at 6:30 pm. I figure the ceremony will start at 7:00 and take a half hour. I’m talking away… there’s dude in his forties who wants to stop by… we chat back and forth, I give him the room number and time and never hear from him again. Figuring that was a waste of time, I continue to chat while waiting to for some confirmation from the 40-something dude. I never hear from him. I do hear from a kid, really similar to the first kid I played with, only even younger (19) who wants to come over. I give him the time of 7:45 and the room number. He loves the idea of walking in on me on all fours with my naked ass in the air. Cool. I dress and go to the wedding.

The wedding is taking place in one of the nightclubs at the hotel. It’s nice; dark, with disco lights, a dance floor, a stage, and tons of alcoves housing round tables with white table clothes. My costume gets some kudos and attention. The bride is there. The groom is there. Everything is on schedule.

Except the minister. He’s late.

At 7:15 pm we’re still waiting. I’m back and forth to my room, contacting the kid, telling him to wait. We reschedule for 8:15, then 8:45. Finally the wedding takes place. I complain about not feeling good from the Chicken Cesar Salad I had at that unfortunate BBQ place. While everyone else is hitting the wedding buffet, I’m heading to my room. I strip out of my ridiculous outfit (I’m 6’1 in bare feet. In platform shoes? I’m 6’5”. With the feather boa I feel like Gay Big Bird on Ice.)

At the designated time, I place my door ajar and assume the position. My heart skips a wild beat as the door opens. This should be so much fun. Part of me wishes there was some way to capture the look on their faces as they walk in. I assume they would be delighted, and many are, but with my luck I’d also end up capturing some very indecisive or disappointed looks, so it’s probably just as well that I can’t.

This guy is silent. He remains by the door much longer than anyone usually does and this prompts me to turn my head in order to see what’s up. Near the door stands a man, probably in his 40’s, wearing glasses, a blue and white checked shirt, shapeless jeans and an odd expression on his face. He has messy curly hair and a mustache. In other words, this is not the 19 year old kid. Who the fuck is this?

I get up off the bed and grab a nearby towel to cover myself. The guy steps forward and says “Hi.” There’s something really spacey and creepy to the tone of his voice. I step back. He’s got me cornered. He motions toward the bed and says, “So… what do you want to do?” Now, in my on-line conversations I am really direct about ‘what’ I want to ‘do’. So there should be no question. When somebody arrives, they know what’s expected of them – even to the point that spontaneity is not welcome to the party. So now I am really thrown.

But before I am able to respond in walks the 19 year-old wearing a look of total confusion…

End of Part I
Next Week: Part II

Sunday, December 05, 2010

I Wanna Sauna! - Part III: My Man Sam, Sam I Am

This is the third and final part of a three part series about a recent trip to Duluth.

The Hunter and I end up sort of cuddling and kissing while standing up. My hands press his body into mine as his hands work both his own dick and mine. There’s some heat generated… I mean, come on – the dude is kind of a faggot’s wet dream with his stash, fur, compact, muscular body and camouflage cap. I never really get a sense of his dick, as it is quite dark in the room and he never allows my hands anywhere near it. With a sense of great relief and urgency he tells me he was going to cum. “Go for it, man.” He is a vision of manhood as sweat clings to his matted fur. I play cheerleader as his heavy load hits the linoleum with a satisfying splat. While he does ask if I want to get off, he doesn’t seem all that committed to seeing it through, so I pass. Before leaving the room, I kneel down and wipe up his cum with my towel. I wouldn’t want anyone slipping on it.

He hits the showers and I hit the sauna. I’m cruised quite a bit for the next hour, but it always seems to be by someone with a paunch or someone on the elderly side of life. So I spend a good hour sitting on the futon that afternoon, staring at the old, rough textured walls. Making a game of it, I try to discern faces and figures amidst the contrasting contours in the wall’s make-up. Walking around, I discover a few things that had escaped my notice. There is a peephole in one of the rooms that looks into the locker room. It seems rather pointless, but then, if there is something happening in the room and you’re on the other side, maybe you could watch some of the action. In retrospect, Family Sauna could use a lot more of both – peepholes and action. I also discover a glory hole of sorts. Two of the rooms near the front stairs share an adjoining door. I’m sitting in one, when suddenly a beckoning finger appears and that’s when I realize what that hole in the door, just below the door knob, is for. I don’t take advantage of it, because I know what the troll on the other side looks like – he’d been chasing me on and off all day. Sometimes knowing takes away all the fun of it, and sometimes knowing is a good thing.

The white-haired man that had plopped down beside me on the futon earlier is still sitting on the futon when he isn’t sitting in the actual sauna. As the day progresses I also notice that his towel is revealing more and more each time he sits on the futon. I know he’s playing with himself, but he’s very shy about it whenever I pass by. I do find him attractive; his body’s good, and his face sharp and distinguished. What the hell, I think; nothing else is going on, so I plop my ass down next to him. We pass another ten minutes or so playing “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.” His dick is, like his face; classic, with a touch of prettiness. When he first reveals his full dick to me I’m quite awed by what accompanies it. His balls are wrapped in this big, heavy, chrome weight that serves as a ball stretcher. Recently I’ve been experimenting with the sensation of having my balls confined and stretched. There’s something really intense about it, and seeing this taken to the extreme this gentleman has taken it, I find myself really aroused. He lets me play with the weight a little. I can see the pleasure/pain that each bobble and pull causes him as it registers, not only on his face, but also in the texture, color and size of his dick. His dick seems to pulse with excitement, his pee hole opening as if it were gasping for air. Just as I’m leaning in for a taste of his cock, off it shoots with a great arching volley of jizz, followed by another and another… man, I think, this dude’s prostate must be in excellent condition.

It’s a kick and a half watching this man ejaculate. The combination of expressions that washed across his face – fear, pain, pleasure, joy, repeat, repeat – is totally hot to witness. After his eighth and final spurt, an embarrassed smile spreads across his face and he apologizes(!) profusely. “I’ve been playing with myself all day”, he says. I tell him that had I known that I would have stopped by to help him out sooner. Ah, my loss. We make some small talk as I continue to play with his balls and I asked him questions about where he purchased the chrome weight, is it difficult to put on, etc. He indulges me for a bit, then wrapping himself up off he goes to the sauna, chrome weight still in place. Relishing my experience, I stay put on the futon until a couple of unsavory types – an Asian dwarf type and an obese, hairless young man - start hitting on me. Then I go join the white-haired man with the chrome weight in the Sauna.

Sitting opposite him is a tall, thin man with a long beard. He looks like a biker, as in motorcycle gang. The condition of his body tells the rest of his story. He’s definitely the victim of some kind of wasting – probably HIV related. His arms and legs are all gnarly muscle, while his tummy area is a tad distended. Still, there’s something hot about him – probably having to do with my fantasy about him being a biker. Maybe it’s the beard. The white-haired man leaves, allowing The Biker and me some privacy. As I sit in the heat, my towel open, I cup my balls and dick with one hand and play with my hole with the other. He may have HIV, but I have condoms. My actions don’t go unnoticed and soon he reveals his dick. As I suspected, it’s long and thin – just like his face and nose. We watch each other intently until a gigantic, obese man rolls in and plops his ass between us. I’m up like a shot and hit the showers. The Biker doesn’t follow and I’m thinking, oh, well, maybe he’s just here for the Sauna. I dry myself, for the umpteenth time that day and head off for the futon. On the way, I stop, grab some quarters and treat myself to Coke. I drink the soda. Time passes, I’m bored. I get up and walk down the hall toward the front steps… when I catch sight of The Biker, standing in the room next to the main stairs.

Wasting no time, I walk right in, grab him by the front of his towel and plant a deep kiss on him. He returns my volley and it turns out he’s quite the kisser. Our towels fall away and we start grinding away on each other. Luxuriating in the sensation of fooling around with someone with a long, scraggly beard and who is taller than me, I lose myself in his arms. He whips out a bottle of poppers and presses it to my nose, closing the other nostril with his index finger. Inhaling deeply, I pause while he’s taking a hit and check out his dick. It’s a decent 7.5”, and on the thin side. Still, all I want is to have it buried deep in my hole. I crouch down and take his dick into my mouth as The Biker takes another long hit of poppers. I suck on him for a bit. Then he sits down on the end of the bed and sucks on my dick. He hands me the poppers and I, thinking I am about to get fucked by a biker dude, take two strong hits.

And that’s when the whole fantasy evaporates. The Biker grabs the poppers, lays back and in between hits asks me to fist fuck him.

Oops. Not going to happen. Now what? The fantasy in my head derailed, I try to think of a way out. The poppers! I go into a bit of a swoon, leaning against the frame of the doorway, claiming too many poppers have done me in. Begging off, I tell him I have to go lie down for a bit. He’s crestfallen, as am I, albeit for different reasons, but we both take it in stride. I leave him in the room and head toward the sauna again, where I sit until he joins me. There are other men in there, so it’s not all that awkward. Later, under the shower, I decide it’s time to pack up and go home. I open the door to the locker area… and my eyes lock onto a familiar figure.

He’s older than me by maybe ten years. I’m at least a foot taller than he is. His face is graced with a bushy, bushy, yellowing mustache that rivals Sam Elliot’s. Without an ounce of fat anywhere on his hairless, tight, taunt frame, he’s super thin and wiry. Our eyes meet and I know he knows I know him. And I do, but I can’t remember where. We’ve fucked before. A long time ago? The last time I was in Duluth? In Minneapolis? I’m not sure. He’s still fully clothed and opening his locker when I lay eyes on him; my plans to leave go right out the window. I stop at my locker to grab a bottle of water, say hello and hit the can. I want to make sure my hole is good and clean. While I’m cleaning up, Little Sam disrobes and walks off. My heart is racing and there is sense of urgency at hand. I need to get fucked. Please, let this be the one.

I get my poop in a group (so to speak) and grabbing what I need – poppers, condoms, and lube, make my way to the TV Room. There are other new arrivals, but I pay scant attention to them as all I want is Little Sam. I head down the hall, checking rooms as I go. Coming upon the most prized room, I stick my head in, and there he is, in the buff, all laid out… Little Sam. Only Little Sam is not so little, if you know what I mean. In his hands he holds a big old hard-on measuring on the long side of 9”. And as awesome as that is (and it is), when it comes to width Little Sam is truly blessed. Circumference-wise, Little Sam takes the prize at a hole-stretching, but still tenable 7.5”!

Walking in the room, I coyly ask, “Permission to climb aboard?” To which Little Sam replied, “Fuck, yeah. Close the door.” And this brings us to just what is so prize-worthy about this particular room: the door locks from the inside. I do just that, drop my stuff on the little table that sits to the left of the bed, open my brand new bottle of poppers and take the biggest hit I can muster. Now considering that my heart is already racing and I am already gasping for breath at the mere thought of getting my hands, mouth and hole on this mans glorious appendage, it’s a struggle just to inhale. Needless to say, I set my butt on the edge of that bed and go down on him like a monkey on a cupcake. The poppers help me slide that big fat monster quite a way down my throat, but due to the angle and his size, I know there is no way I can accommodate it all. Something tells me Little Sam is used to this. The good thing is I have other holes that will have no trouble at all making adequate room.

Doing my best to slurp away on Little Sam’s rock hard dong, my hands keep busy checking out his arms, legs, ass, and back. Everything is as it should be. Then I make my move. I climb up and lay along the other side of his body. As I do, I also move in for a kiss. Little Sam is not big on kisses. I think the mushy stuff is a big turn-off for him. I pick up on this quick and straddling his waist, I line up the crack of my as with his cock. Relishing this moment, I scoot my ass back and forth along the length of his dick. The friction feels incredible and I can tell by the way Little Sam is raising his hips just slightly and catching my rhythm that he’s into it too.

Pausing just long enough to bend over and give him a kiss on the lips, I reach over for my lube. It’s time to bring this bad boy home. I squeeze lube onto my hole and then repeating the same back and forth motion, I lube up the one side of his dick. Once that’s accomplished I pause at the top of his dick to line up the head with my hole. I love this sensation. Pressing back just slightly, I savor the moment. Then, just as I’m about to reach over for the condoms sitting on the table, Little Sam starts to take a more active role by lifting my hips just enough so he can move the head of his cock through my sphincter. I light up like a pinball machine. The width of him causes me to lose my breath. Little Sam starts to rock underneath me and I take this as his way of telling me: no condoms. I want this fuck so badly, I concede instantly. Instead of grabbing the condoms, I grab the poppers, take a big hit and ease my hungry hole onto his dick. Each half inch is a special kind of agony and I find myself huffing poppers until I lose myself and am sitting with my ass smack dab onto his pelvis. After that I allow myself to be still, feeling all of him in all of me. My insides are throbbing as is his cock. I center my energy and will myself to rise slowly up the length of his pole. Sliding back down, I reposition my feet so they are flat, in front of me and on either side of his body. Taking a final hit of poppers, I rise up and with this newfound leverage work my way up and down his cock until I reach a fucking awesome momentum. This is what I wanted… this is what I needed to feel.

Suddenly the earth move beneath me. Little Sam is sitting up, and up and up. Before I know it, I’m on my back with my legs in the air with Little Sam between them. He slows things down at first and checks in to make sure I’m still on board. I reach for the poppers. This is different. This is hitting somewhere new. I need… to relax. I take a hit. Sam picks up speed and strength. Soon he’s pounding into me, a sensation that is not at all unpleasant. I start telling him in hushed tones how awesome it feels, to be owned by him.

Next, Little Sam takes it to a whole new level. He pushes forward, his dick still buried deep in my hole, and rolls me up onto my shoulders. He is now standing on the bed. Using my outstretched legs as a means of control and balance, he begins to pile drive my ass. My neck is bent and I’m a tad uncomfortable, but unable to deter Little Sam from assaulting me. I feel like I am being crushed into mush when Little Sam tells me he’s about to cum. With an evil shudder, he brings his whole weight down upon me and then holds still. I feel his organ expand and contract, filling me with his hot cum. I’d been working my own dick the whole time and even though I am not fully hard, I manage to send my own juices spilling out, hitting me in the face, some of it dropping into my open mouth.

Spent, Little Sam climbs off of me and lies on the bed once more. I fall to my side and almost off the bed, before righting myself in order to get my bearings. Little Sam is not big on kisses. Little Sam is also not big on aftercare. I’m cool with that; I got what I came for. Gathering up my stuff, I lean over and give him a grateful embrace. He’s grinning from ear to ear. I tell him once more how wonderful that felt and then head to the locker area. Once I grab another bottle of water from my locker, I hit the bathroom: I got a lot of seed to expel, the sooner the better. I squeeze out what I can before douching and am a little in awe by the size of his load. After douching the first time, I go, fill the bottle and do a second douche, just to make sure. I’m doing my best to run a clean house here.

After that, even though I have a full hour and a half before I have to be at the convention center, I decide to shower, dress and leave. There’s an antique store down on the corner, at the bottom of that hill, and I will need something to show my friend in order to account for my time.

All I can say is… sure, Family Sauna is not for everyone, and the pickings can sure be slim; I have never had the opportunity to be there in the evening or on a weeknight. For me? It was time well spent. Will I be back?

Count on it.

Friday, November 26, 2010

I Wanna Sauna! – Part II: The Hunter Becomes the Hunted

This is part two of a three part series.
A few minutes later Mr. Mustache circles back. He stands, hip leaning against the outside corner of my favorite little room and looks at me. He looks like a 1970’s porn star gone a little to seed. Tall with a full head of hair badly in need of a trim, his body is covered in black fur and hasn’t seen the inside of a gym in ages. There is a ring of fat surrounding his bellybutton. Slyly, he loosens his towel to reveal his dick which would be lost in a sea of overgrown pubes if it weren’t so…. big. With a quick smile, he covers himself and heads toward the other hallway, where he looks back at me before disappearing into the room opposite the one occupied by Pony Boy and friend.

What can I say? I’m a sucker (pun intended) for a big dicked man. I slip into the room and discover Mr. Mustache lying on one of the beds, his towel open, dick in hand. Without hesitating, I crouch down in front of him and take his cock in my mouth. It’s nice: cut, big head, nice thickness and at least 8.5”. My hands roam over his hairy body. In a reclining position gravity cures many an ill and in this case, Mr. Mustache is looking substantially less paunchy, although he still has that 1970’s porn-star-who-has-seen-better-days thing going on. The room is dark and that, in this case, is probably a good thing. Mr. Mustache hauls his furry body back further toward the head of the bed, making enough room for me to lie on my hip at the bottom.

I’m making good progress toward my goal of complete sperminization when another figure wanders into the room. You see, I’d made a tactical error when I came in – I forgot to close the door. The figure is soon crouched at the end of the bed, playing with my cock and that is when I realize it’s the white-haired man who was stalking Mr. Mustache moments ago. Well, that kills it for me – I’m out of there. I disentangle myself and storm off to the relative safety of the actual sauna. Mr. Mustache will either have to come after me or do without.

After cleansing my pores, I shower and return to the TV Room for another go. Mr. Mustache is no longer in the room with two beds and the door to the room occupied by Pony Boy and friend remains closed. I walk past the futon and turn the corner where my eye lands on a prone, naked figure on the bed in the smallest room. A voice beckons me, so I poke my head in. It’s a very pale, older gentleman, and all too late, I realize it’s the white-haired man who was stalking Mr. Mustache. By too late, I mean that by the time I recognize him I’m lying next to him. He’s not that repulsive, but after five minutes of stingy-lipped kisses (on his part) and no reaction down there where it counts (on both our parts), I get up and leave, heading once again to the sauna for a pore cleanse.

As I’m entering the sauna, exiting is a tall, good-looking man with a cleft chin and a full head of light auburn hair. His body, which is in good shape, is covered in similarly colored fur. As he’s wrapped in a towel, I don’t get a sense of what he might be packing. In the sauna there are a couple of business types, very similar to the man that just exited, but not as enticing. They have that receding hairline thing going and the mid-level manager paunch. Every time I lay eyes on them in the future, I keep thinking that I could do them, but there’s something in me that doesn’t want to do them. As they cruise me repeatedly a bit later, my apparent lack of appreciation remains confusing to all three of us. At that moment, however, I decide to not waste any time, and pursue Mr. Cleft Chin immediately.

I leave the sauna, shower, and begin my hunt. In no time at all we pass one another in the narrow hall just outside the TV Room. He’s still wrapped in his towel, but I can tell by the bow of his head, his averted eyes and mild blush that he’s interested in me. I go to the futon, sit down, and wait. I play with my dick to prime it a bit – keeping in mind the adage – if you build it, they will cum. Fortunately, my cock is standing at full-attention in no time. Unfortunately, coming around the corner at that very moment is the white-haired coot. I drape my towel strategically over my lap as quickly as possible, but not before The Coot has spied my prick and given me a wicked smile. I look away, hoping that he will go away. After a few awkward moments The Coot moves on, leering at me over his shoulder as he goes. Fortunately he’s going away. Unfortunately he walks right into Mr. Cleft Chin who is turning the corner at the same time. They bounce off one another awkwardly. Mr. Cleft Chin is very polite. The Coot is smitten, and blocks Mr. Cleft Chin’s way. Cleft dodges Coot and makes his way hastily past the futon (and me), disappearing down the opposite hall. The Coot watches and is about to pursue when he catches my eye and thinks better of crossing in front of me.

The Coot exit around the opposite corner and I immediately get up and decide to chase after Cleft, but I barely turn the corner when who should I see walking toward me? Cleft! I plant my hip on the corner of those walls, thinking he will take the hint and go in the little room to my left. Instead, making eye contact the entire time, he walks past me and down the hall toward the room occupied by Pony Boy and turns the corner. Nonplussed, I follow, figuring, if nothing else, at least I will find out where I stand with him.

I round the corner and spy Cleft lying on the bed formerly occupied by Mr. Mustache. Wasting no time, I enter, close the door and lay my naked body next to his. That towel around his waist opens up and we are soon deep kissing, allowing our hands to roam freely over each other’s bodies. Cleft is very handsome, and very sweet. It’s one of those situations where I don’t know what the dude sees in me, but hey, if all they want is a hard dick, I can supply the love. My mind always works overtime whenever kisses are accompanied by a spark of immediate intimacy and that is precisely what’s being achieved the longer we lay there. He rolls on top of me; I roll on top of him. We’re squeezing and grasping and gasping for breath. My balls ache deliciously as they press into his body and our lips leave contact of one another only so I can deep throat his very pleasant dick.

Suddenly the door opens and someone walks in. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the room with the door closed, so all I can make out is the outline of a figure. It doesn’t look too bad, but it’s hard to tell. I look over at Cleft for a reaction and get none, as his eyes are transfixed on the man in the door. The man then closes the door, and my eyes have to readjust all over again. I am waiting for some type of signal from Cleft as to what he would like to do. The stranger is now sitting at the bottom of the bed and is playing with both of our dicks. Gradually, peering into the darkness, I make out a mustache and a shock of white hair. The dude is older than Cleft and I by at least ten years. He then takes my dick into his mouth and begins to suck. I look over at Cleft and again receive no indication whether this is cool or not. Is this his partner? It must be his partner. Was this some kind of set up where Cleft is the bait?

Next thing I know, Cleft is getting up and hastily exiting the room. I follow suit. Thinking he and I will meet up again, I make my way to the futon and wait. And wait. Those business dudes that I saw in the sauna walk around and cruise me, but, having had a taste of Cleft, I’m holding out for Cleft. But there is no Cleft. I decide to head to the sauna again; thinking maybe that’s where he is. I enter the sauna and look around. There’s a couple of balding, older dudes with round middles and patches of untrimmed fur. I sit and get my bearings. I take the heat of the sauna for as long as I can and then hit the showers. Then I return and run the circuit of rooms. No Cleft. Maybe he left. Dejectedly, I plop my ass down on the futon and contemplate buying a soda. A few guys walk by, one of them, a round-faced, goateed baldy with a nice fleshy, furry bear middle makes his interest known, but I’d rather have the soda. I go my locker, get some quarters and return to plug the machine. I get a Coke, thinking maybe the caffeine and sugar will do me some good.

The Coke feels good going down my throat, a throat that has not sucked nearly enough cock today. I contemplate paging through an old, worn copy of Lavender magazine sitting on a table nearby, when Cleft appears to my right. He cocks his towel-covered hip on the corner of the smallest room and cocks his head to indicate that he would like me to join him inside. Once inside, we lay on the small bed, cradling each other’s faces while kissing. In between kisses I tell him I thought the older guy was his partner and he laughs. We spend the next hour kissing, fondling and rubbing on each other. I suck him, he sucks me. I can tell by his lack of technique that he is something of a novice when it comes to sucking dick, but I’m so smitten with him and flattered by his attention I don’t mind. We’re interrupted by other dudes twice, and each time a simultaneous and distinct “No!” hisses from our mouths. We both make plays like we’re the top, but that is where it ends. Picking up on a vibe that butt sex is not on the menu, we both settle into mutual J.O. mode, deep kissing and getting each other off at the same time. Both loads end up on his stomach and I take joy in messing around in it, rubbing the cum into his skin.

As we make small talk I sense that he is a very discrete man. Deciding to respect that, I remain in the room when he leaves to go shower. We don’t see each other again, and I assume that after showering he immediately left. I hang around for another hour, but the memory of the intense intimacy I just experienced makes contemplating getting it on with anyone else out of the question. After hitting the sauna a few more times, making the rounds and checking out the new arrivals, I decide to shower and get some dinner. I woke up that morning assuming I would, at some point, get fucked senseless. That sure did not happen, but then I still have tomorrow.

I dropped off my towels and key at the front desk and make my way down the hill toward downtown’s main street. The gathering dusk and fog helps sustain my mood as it envelops me. So, I didn’t get fucked. Not really. But still… it was kind of a successful day. Wasn’t it? Well, maybe tomorrow.

The next day is Sunday. I wake early, have breakfast and decide to skip trying to hook up on line altogether. My friend didn’t have to be at the convention center until nine or so, so we hang out together for a bit. Later, after dropping him off, I decide to head right downtown and take advantage of the free wi-fi at Jitters, a little coffee house not far from Family Sauna. I spend two hours nursing a skim milk latte while chatting with several of the locals. Whenever I mention that I plan on going to Family Sauna once it opens the reaction is always quite negative. “Careful not to catch anything.” “There are so many old trolls there.” “That place is a dump.” I couldn’t disagree with them, for they were quite right on all accounts, but I remain undeterred. There are a couple of invitations to come to their place and play, but that would mean changing my plans, and since I’m due at the convention center to breakdown and load at 5:00 pm, I don’t want to chance wasting time on another one-on-one situation that turns out less than stellar. I will take my chances at Family Sauna.

I arrive shortly after they open, check-in, and make my way to my locker. I immediately go to the bathroom and douche my ass, prepping it for what I hope is to come (pun unintended). I scope out the various rooms and don’t find anyone of interest. There are eight lockers with locks on them, but I only lay eyes on half that many men. Hitting the Sauna, I sit alone and allow the intense heat to move through me. After taking as much of it as I can, I shower. As I’m showering I catch sight of someone of interest; a studly looking dude about my age sporting a big dark mustache and a camouflage hunting cap. His compact, rugged body is covered in a nice pelt of dark brown fur with a towel wrapped securely around his waist. First he heads into the video room and then returns to the locker area. I finish up my shower, toweling off quickly and lock onto his scent. The Hunter is now the hunted!

But no dice. I check all the rooms twice and then sink dejectedly onto the futon. Maybe he’s onto me and is purposely avoiding me. Maybe he’s not into me and found someone else. Well, I shrug, it’s early, let’s see what the day has to offer. I spend my time playing with my cock ring and displaying my condoms (one for regular-sized guys and one for big boys) and my bottle of Rush. I’m really hoping that today I will get an opportunity to use those poppers. Yesterday, the timing and the situations at hand never seemed appropriate for popper use. Hopefully today some macho fucker will come along and take my ass on a ride it will never forget. Maybe a certain hunter will realize that there’s a quality piece of ass wasting away, sitting on this futon.

I am just about to head back to the sauna when The Hunter appears around the corner near the small room. In spite of all the adjusting I’d been doing, my dick is only half hard. I do nothing to cover it up, and I know he is eyeing it as he passes by. On a hunch that he will be back, I immediately begin stroking my dick, hoping to have it up to full mast by the time he circles back. Mission accomplished, and apparently the sight of my hard prick is enough to prevent him from passing me by a second time. Just at that moment, a really old dude with white hair comes around the opposite corner. It’s not the same dude from the previous day, but very similar. This one is probably five years younger than that other one and his body is in really great shape, especially his pecs. The one thing that strikes me immediately is that he’s very short. He walks right over and plops himself down beside me on the futon. I respond by grabbing my stuff and springing upright. The Hunter gets a bit flummoxed and heads off toward the TV Room. Thinking quickly, I decide to head down the opposite hall to see if I can head him off at the pass. My tactical maneuver pays off, as I’m able to catch his eye in the opposite hallway before he heads into the locker area. He turns right around and follows me back to the small bedroom near the futon.

Once inside, we turn to each other. His hands go immediately to my dick and he begins working it back and forth. I push aside his towel and it falls to the floor. Reaching for his cock, I move in for a kiss and am met with… total inexperience. My mind racing, I try to reconfigure who it is that I have just lured into my little fuck nest. After a few more attempts at kissing, each getting a bit better, I crouched down in front of him and take his dick in my mouth. It’s on the small side, obscured by a sea of dark, untrimmed pubes. My hands grab the globes of his chunky little ass and pull him towards me. His dick is just starting to get hard when he pulls me to my feet. “I don’t… I don’t have… haven’t done this much before.” I looked at him incongruously, thinking “Dude… where have you been all these years?” I suggest that we lay down on the bed, but that’s not his cup of tea. “I’m nervous” he says. No shit. Not helping the situation? The three dudes that stick their heads in the door one by one to see if they can join us.

What is it about this place and people not respecting a closed door?

End Part II
Next Week: Part III

Saturday, November 20, 2010

I Wanna Sauna! – Part I: The Truth About Duluth

This is the first of a three part story about my recent visit to Duluth, MN.

I like Duluth, MN. A lot. I’ve been there several times now, and each time I discover something (or someone) new. This is just a weekend trip; two days to explore and experience the men of Duluth. Basically I’m helping out a friend of mine. He goes to Duluth each year for a convention where he’s a vendor. I help him unload, set-up, strike and load his stuff. While I have some time obligated, for the most part, during the day, I am on my own to do as I please.

This time, we stay at a hotel in the harbor district. I thought it would be a place that would be easy to find, easy to get to, and known to all. Unfortunately, there’s quite a bit of road work going on, so coming into the city from the south involves a lengthy delay for all. This will prove problematic during my first morning there. Arriving late on Friday, I help with unloading and the set-up, eat dinner, and then go to bed.

Up early the next day, I get on-line; using my usual venues, changing my profiles to suit my location and situation. I also place an ad on Craigslist. Along with my stats, talents and desires, I specify that I will be at the Family Sauna later that afternoon.

The Family Sauna is kind of a rarity in Minnesota. The upper floor is a legitimate sauna for males and females. It is a family-friendly place up there, so needless to say I have never ventured up those steps. It’s another kind of sauna in the basement. In this instance “Sauna” translates to “Bath House”, as in “Gay Bath House”. That said; this is not exactly an upscale bath house, like say, Steamworks in Chicago. No, this is more in line with what you might experience at Man Country in Chicago; in short? It is kind of a dump, but a dump that is not without its charms. Granted, you have to kind of blur your eyes and pretend it’s 1972, but there can be plenty to like found there.

The first few times I visited Duluth I was not aware of Family Sauna, nor did I have a laptop with wi-fi, so my early visits were rather fruitless; checking out the local public restrooms to absolutely no avail. The time previous to this, I still didn’t have a laptop, but I did do a little more research. So, on that trip I checked out not only Family Sauna, but also the adult bookstore/movie house up the hill from the sauna. The guy at the movie house wore a sneer on his face the entire time I looked at their selection of poppers and was really kind of rude when I asked to purchase tokens for the movie theatres. Besides the usual booths (minus glory holes, but featuring a large sign reminding one that two people are not allowed to share a booth), there were two actual mini-movie theatres; one gay, one straight. The tokens allow you to enter - one time only - through the doors to the theatre and then they seal electronically behind you. I went into the straight one, realized there wasn’t anyone under fifty or without a major gut and left. The gay one was empty, and I actually watched the movie for like twenty minutes before another guy entered. The guy was one of the fattest, ugliest men that I had seen in the straight theatre. I’d positioned myself in the far rear corner of the theatre. He chose to sit on the end of my row, which meant, in order to leave, I would have to go past him. The dude began playing with himself and I took that as my exit cue. Climbing over the row of seats in front of me, I made my way to the door at the back of the theater, careful to keep my eyes averted from whatever the fat man had in his hands. I never went back, and probably never will.

My first impression of Family Sauna was not that great either, but, after spending two afternoons there, I did manage to meet some nice guys (one each day). So, based on those experiences, I was looking forward to spending more time in that dank little hole, albeit with much more confidence than on my first two visits. After all, I’ve been working out for another whole year, and also, my quality standards have risen somewhat.

Having a laptop in Duluth with free wi-fi would prove to be… well, not all that helpful, really. I spend the morning on-line. On Adam4Adam, I believe there are about six people in the Duluth room, with only one that I have any interest in. Unfortunately, that individual (age 46) is only looking for boys under the age of 25, which, given that Duluth is a college town, he probably gets more than enough boys with daddy issues knocking on his door. The Craigslist ad yields only four leads, one of which is old enough to be my grandfather – which is to say, he is really, really, really old! One of the four is also on A4A and I’d already eliminated him from consideration, as he has only one headless pic of dubious quality and strikes me as someone I should do my best to avoid. But he is persistent, and apparently close by. I keep him at arms length as I pursue my one good leads: a full-bodied man ten years younger than me, with a hot goatee and an evil mind, makes it quite clear that he is a total dom top. I’m concerned that he might be a little on the flabby side, but, he titillates me with promises of subjugation and complete control and wins me over. Not only am I going to suck him hard and then take his dick up my ass until he cums, he’s then going to make me stay in bed with him while he worships my body and gets hard again, before providing me with a second load. Needless to say, he has me at hello!

We set up a time, 20 minutes from then. I gather the things I need and check my ass to make sure I’m good to go. Twenty minutes come and go and no dom top. I get a message from him via his cell phone: “Coming in from the south and traffic is backed up. Will be a bit later than promised.” Kind of disappointing. Well, I get on-line and begin looking around. I get hit on by this big guy – as in 6’6”, 280 lbs. He has a face pic, but that is it. He’s got a big round head and black, buzzed hair. His face is covered in a black, closely cropped beard, and while I am a little concerned that big in this case means fat, I was intrigued by what it might be like to have such a large dude crushing me under his full body. He claims to be a dom top, too, sporting a 7” dick. Well, since his peenie isn’t a weenie, I decide to go for it, and schedule him for an hour and a half after my other dom top is to arrive. What could go wrong, right?

Well, time marches on and not a word from Dom Top #1. The entire time I’m waiting that dude from A4A keeps hitting on me, telling me he’s only a few minutes away from my hotel. After waiting an hour for Dom Top #1 to show, I go ahead and invite the persistent dude with the headless dick pic over. Of course, the moment I do that, who do I get a text from? Dom Top #1. He’s almost there. I ask him if he would mind if someone joins us. His answer is vague, but he’s not opposed to the idea, so thinking everything might work out, I email Mr. Persistent and tell him to hold off for 30 minutes. He tells me, no problem.

Mr. Dom Top #1 shows up. He immediately takes control of the scene, ordering me to strip off what little I have on and get on my knees. I slurp on the outside of his jeans for awhile before being given permission to loosen his belt and unzip his fly. Then I soak the cup of the jock he’s wearing with my spit until he orders me to lick his balls. Mr. Dom Top #1 is a solid man, as in, big, but not an ounce of fat. It is all solid, healthy, and as firm as his dick. His pictures have not done him justice and as my hands explore while my mouth works magic on his six and a half inch cock, I am really regretting having invited someone else over. In no time, I have him stripped of his clothes and he’s ordering me to get my ass on the bed. I slip a condom on him and offer up my hole, but he wants it a different way. He has me lie on my back with my legs in the air. He wants constant eye contact and to kiss me while he fucks me. I’m hot for him and do as I’m told.

He’s fucking me for about ten minutes when there’s a knock on the door. That’s when Dom Top #1 starts getting pissy. He sighs and tells me to go answer the door. When he first got there we discussed the other dude coming and he seemed resigned to it. I open the door to my mystery date – and discover I got a dud. Dude is short, older than he claimed and kind of a pudge; one of those formless, hairless, round guys with stooped shoulders and a permanent string of drool running down the corner of his mouth. Another word for him? Goon. He pads in and Mr. Dom #1 heads immediately to the bathroom and begins cleaning up. The Goon proceeds to strip off all his clothes and is good to go. I keep trying to catch Mr. Dom #1’s eye, but no luck. Mr. Dom tells me, “I know this guy,” dresses, and exits in a huff. I’m crushed, but understand. It’ my fault.

The goon persuades me to get on the bed on all fours so he can eat my ass, which I allow him to do for about two seconds. “That’s it. I’m done.” I say, because I was – done. This doesn’t seem to faze The Goon and something tells me that this happens to him quite frequently. He exits, trying to persuade me to come over to his place later, but no dice.

I send an email to Dom Top #2 telling him I have to run and do something and apologize for my lack of planning. Truth is, the idea of another dude showing up at my hotel room isn’t working for me. I need to get out of that room and away from the memory of Dom Top #1’s hasty exit.

I look at the clock and figure it’s time to head over to the Family Sauna. I’m leaving early because there’s a little shopping I want to do on the way - I need some fresh poppers. I’d come across an ad for a head shop called The Last Place On Earth. They are currently suing the city of Duluth for passing an ordinance banning the sale of synthetic marijuana. The place is part porn/sex shop, part head shop. I bought a little pipe (because I could, not because I have anything to smoke with it) and a bottle of poppers. The staff is really friendly. The guy that sells me the poppers tells me that the good people who make Rush have gone out of business (rumor has it the owner of the company committed suicide). I pocket my stuff and head toward Family Sauna.

Walking into the lobby on the main floor one can’t help but notice the smell of stale smoke. It always reeks of cigarette smoke. There’s someone different behind the counter, a sprightly-acting, balding librarian sort who is very solicitous and a bit full-tilt giddy. I purchase a couple of bottles of water, grab my towels and key and head down into the basement. I have a full bag of “stuff” with me. Why? Because on previous trips I learned that there is nothing extra to be had at Family Sauna. No condoms, no lube. No food. There is a soda machine, and I know I will make good use of it, because I suddenly realize that I’ve not eaten since 7:00 am. I don’t like soda, much, but I really hate it when my blood sugar suddenly crashes.

Once my stuff is stored, I make my way to the bathroom – which is really just a concrete stall with a saloon style door that provides very little in the way of privacy. I have to douche. There was a time when the idea of cleaning out my ass in a public restroom with little privacy would have unnerved me, but I’ve gotten over it, so I just get down to business and do my thing. Once that’s done, I slip on a metal cock ring and decide it’s time to take in the sights. There was also a time when I would have walked around with a towel secured around my waist to hide my dick from prying eyes, but I’ve gotten over that as well. I know what everyone is here for, so why not just be upfront about it? Even if I’m not interested in fooling around with someone I figure I might as well allow them to get an eyeful and get their jollies. Not into me? Keep it to yourself.

Before I leave the locker area I look around me and count the number of locked lockers (8). That gives me an idea of the number of men trolling about. I first check out the sauna (empty). Then I proceed to the little video room (one white obese man plopped in a chair), the two bedrooms behind the video room (one empty, one occupied by some dude snoring, too dark to see) and eventually make my way to the TV room (one tall, dark-haired man, late 40’s with bushy mustache watching some true crime show). After that I make my way around the hallway where all the private rooms are. First one has one bed and is empty. The next has, for some reason, two beds, and is empty. The third, and this is the most prized room, has it’s door closed, which indicates that a little something something is taking place between those four walls. I walk along the back hall, past my favorite place to hang – a futon situated directly across from the soda machine – and turn left into a hallway where there are three more rooms (all empty). The tiny room next to the soda machine is my personal favorite.

I like the size of Family Sauna because not much can happen there without you knowing about it. If someone is there, you will eventually see them. That’s reassuring, which is why, this trip, I decide to plant myself on the futon and see who’s interested enough in what I got to cruise me. I circle back, through the TV Room and past the dark-haired mustached man. I don’t make eye contact, because, on first glance, I am not interested. As I head down the hallway, the door to the most-prized room opens and out walks what can only be described as my worse nightmare. I will call him Pony Boy. Pony Boy is not a boy. He has not been a boy for many, many years, but since he is a clueless mess (or should that be ‘meth’), he still carries himself as if he were. He was probably very attractive at one time, but years of drug use have left his once muscular, smooth body gaunt and stringy looking. His main of shoulder-length black curly hair, once his pride, is now sparse and lusterless. His ass still looks good – carried high and looking perky, but his face? His eyes are now sunken, beady black and bird-like, his cheekbones a bit too austere, and his skin… a roadmap of where not to travel.

He breezes past me, no eye contact. No doubt he’s on his way to clean out his ass. I walk past the open door and spy, lying on the bed, a reclining male body, his scrawny legs and arms resting on all sides of his protruding, round, distended belly. I don’t need to see his face to know his story; one of, what not to become. I do my best not to judge, but some observations cannot be trifled away. Sitting on one end of the futon, I try not to allow my own hopes and prospects to be dimmed by the reality of what I’ve just seen.

It isn’t long before Mr. Mustache makes his way past me. Hot on his heels is a short, white haired man with a strong jaw and a fairly nice hairless body, especially in light of his age. They both have their towels wrapped around their waists, but not me! I make eye contact with Mr. Mustache and give him a slight smile. He moves on. When the older man pauses before me and smiles at me with raised eyebrows, I look away and place my towel over my dick. Only then does he move on. I’m in no hurry, I tell myself. I have hours before I have to be anywhere and certainly better things will come along. I call to mind a beautiful Italian man that was arriving just as I was leaving the last time I visited Family Sauna. Quality men do come here.

One just needs to be patient.

End Part I

Next Week: Part II

Saturday, November 13, 2010

San Francisco Treats: Ordering Room Service in the City by the Bay

Shaking off the veil of grief that enveloped my last days of summer, I began looking forward to the change promised with the beginning of autumn. I dread winter, but also know that the comfort of coffee houses with free wi-fi will see me through the worst of it. In the meantime, I am making the most of the warmer, sun-drenched days of early fall, hiking along familiar trails and seeking out adventure where and when I can.

I began to travel a good deal; three separate weekends with three different destinations, each trip coming fully equipped with both obligations and potential pleasures. I was in the midst of planning these trips when sorrow came uninvited and having committed myself, viewed them in a new light; as a possible means for casting out the visions and shadows that haunt me.

First up: San Francisco

San Francisco is a dirty, filthy place, steeped in grime and debris, be it The Warf, Union Square, Chinatown or wherever else you might visit. Spit, jizz, and heaven knows what else covered the sidewalks everywhere. I was amazed that this was such a tourist trap, for other than cruising for a hot fuck in the Castro District – it held little in the way of visual enticement. There were a few good restaurants that I was lucky enough to stumble upon, but my distaste for culinary mediocrity was continually called into play. One in particular, an Italian eatery cozily adjacent to a rather famous night club of the classic variety failed to impress. Its food was as bland as it was over-priced. The calamari dish was particularly disappointing, encrusted in a tasteless, impenetrable shell; it was like eating starched parchment. The best food? A dicey little sushi/sashimi place a half block from my hotel. What it lacked in atmosphere it made up for with in-your-face flavor. I also quite enjoyed the East Indian fusion cuisine offered at the restaurant on the main floor of my hotel.

I liked my hotel, a little boutique place which caters to Europeans. My room was everything it needed to be and the windows (which actually opened) looked out onto a corner populated by tranny-hookers in the wee hours of the morning. It was like having a free, late-night floor show right outside your bedroom window. Not that the street walkers were the only entertaining thing to be found in my room, but more on that in a bit.

When I wasn’t busy playing tourist, dismayed by the detritus of human and real debris, or being mildly disappointed by the local food scene, I was burning up the free wi-fi offered by my hotel. Cruising all my usual internet hot spots, albeit with a change of venue, I managed to snag the attention of quite a number of men interested in getting naked with yours truly. In three short nights I managed to play with five very decent dudes (and one not so decent).

The first to visit my room was a tall, thin black man in his early thirties. He wore black-rimmed glasses and looked a bit bookish. He was a no-nonsense sort, not big on small talk. He was there to only to nut. When he first arrived, he was totally ill-at-ease, adjusting the lighting, the shades on the windows, and the pillows on the bed. As he moved silently through these machinations, I sat on the edge of the bed wondering at what point he was going to bolt from the room. Finally, after inspecting the bathroom, he sat in the easy-chair next to the windows. I sidled up, and sitting in front of him, on the floor between his legs, reached up and began caressing the crotch of his trousers. In no time, I unearthed and brought to life a healthy, throbbing, nine-inch wonder. I had no poppers with me, due to my fear that they would be confiscated by security at the airport, and he had neglected to bring any, so I was quite surprised and pleased when I managed to expertly deep throat his monster cock with an ease that impressed us both.

After 20 minutes of playing digital tonsil hockey, during which my dark prince uttered only the occasional, deeply-felt guttural sound of appreciation, he ordered me onto the bed. Stripping off his remaining clothing, he propped both pillows against the head board and proceeded to lay back with his legs spread eagle. I pretty much knew that kissing was off the table with this one, so I didn’t even attempt anything bordering on romantic. Instead I wound my way between his legs and quickly resumed deep-throating his rock hard dick. Wanting to tempt him with what his future might hold, I got on all fours with my ass in the air. With my throat still wrapped around his dick, I reached back and began to play with my hole, testing it for readiness and hoping that he’d take the hint. He did. Pulling me up, I straddled his crotch, and without so much as a whiff of poppers, and just a little bit of lube, slid down the length of his cock like a high-paid hooker working a stripper’s pole. I think we both gasped. The friction of his massive prick filling and rubbing up against my insides had me moaning and steel hard.

We fucked for only about ten minutes, but it was certainly quality time. Once we’d both shot our loads he was quick to make a break for the bathroom to clean up. He surprised me by asking a few questions about myself, but, by that point, it all felt perfunctory. It was late (too late) and I was tired, so I didn’t encourage conversation. All told, it was exactly what I wanted before turning in and I slept very well that night.

The next day, after seeing a few sights – including a really beautiful cathedral – I decided to try my luck and see if I could snag a little afternoon delight. It came in the form of Nathan, a short, furry, bald, goateed, strawberry blonde with a 7 inch dick. There was something incredibly appealing about him. His body was tight and covered in fur. He’d advertised himself as a dominate top, which turned out to be something of a misnomer. In reality, he confessed, he was an energetic cuddler who loved to kiss, rim and suck dick. We got on really well, with both of us commenting on how nicely we were hitting it off. We talked as much as we made out. I kept waiting for him to make a move for my hole, but, other than eating my ass big time, he seemed hesitant to dive in. He told me about his job and then asked me if I smoked 420. He told me had some and would love to share it. I was game. He didn’t have it with him, but only lived a few blocks away. That’s when I noticed the clock.

Unfortunately, Nathan had shown up about 30 minutes after his scheduled time, prompting me to continue to play on-line and book another trick. I had to interrupt our play, claiming that I had made plans to meet friends for a drink. He was really cool about it, gave me his phone number and told me to call him once I got back from dinner, so he could come over, smoke some weed and play more. I told him I would do my best to be back by 8:00 pm.

The trick scheduled stood me up (karma?), so I did end up meeting my friends for drinks and dinner. Good to my word, I was back at 8:00 and called Nathan. He told me a friend had stopped over, they’d just smoked some, and were fooling around, so he was all set for the night (karma? again?). Feeling a tad let down, I immediately got on-line to see what I could find.

An hour or so later I got hit on by this guy named Mike. Mike’s probably at least five years older than me, very tan, and handsome. When I finally met him face to face he reminded me of a fifty-year old Ken doll. He had a beautiful smile… and a partner! They both wanted to use my ass and invited me over to their place for a little 420.

On-line, Mike was charming and personable and while I was reticent to leave my hotel, I decided to venture out into the night. Before I agreed to come, I mapquested their address and realized that they were only about a dozen blocks away from me. I am not much of a night owl, but it was before 10 pm, so I decided to go for it.

I had the hotel ring me a cab – a cab that never arrived. Instead, I poached someone else’s cab as it dropped guests off at the curb. As the cabbie navigated his way to the address I’d provided I tried to orientate the mapquest route that was imprinted in my brain with the street signs we passed. It’s not a very long cab drive and once I arrived, I was pretty sure I’d managed to keep my bearings. As I approached the panel where I was to buzz their condo I got a sinking feeling. What if I was being set up? What if they planned to rob me? What if someone was just playing a practical joke?

Fortunately, Mike answered after the first ring. I walked up and met him on his floor. All he was wearing was a pair of tight fitting, sky blue, square-legged swim trunks: just like a Ken doll! His hair was as perfect as his tan. It was only the crinkle of the skin in the corners of his eyes that gave away his age. A great conversationalist, he was super personable and a real salesman. Entering their condo, I removed my boots and then met Mike’s partner. His partner was probably a few years younger than me. He was bald, tall, furry, and muscular. It was his barrel chest that caught most of my attention. On-line, Mike had sent me a link to his partner’s profile. It described him as a dominate, take-charge top. Now that I’d met him in person? My ass was just tingling.

We sat down in their large, over-sized living room on their large over-sized furniture. The conversation flowed pretty well. I told them what I’d seen in town, they told me what I yet needed to see. I asked why everybody seemed to have 420 and it turned out that in San Francisco all you needed to do was tell your doctor that you’re having trouble sleeping and they’d write you a prescription! With that, Mike and I crept out onto their balcony for a few hits. I am such an amateur smoker that I was hacking and coughing after one small toke, and told Mike that was enough for me. We headed back into the living room for more conversation. Mike’s partner was having a drink, and I asked for a glass of water. We talked for what seemed like forever, my head muddled just enough from the 420 that I began to lose track of what we’re discussing. In the back of my mind, I kept wondering when the action would start. I also tried to gage just how excited Mike’s partner was about my presence. Was he into me? He was very nice, but his affect seemed very laidback and I was beginning to wonder if he was going to ask me to leave. Instead, he surprised me by saying, “Seems to me we’re all supposed to be fucking, so what do you say we get naked?” Mike, who had been sitting to my left on the couch, leaned over and planted a deep, wet kiss on my mouth as his hands roamed over the front of my jeans. Standing, I shucked off my t-shirt and dropped my jeans. Mike moved to his knees, taking my dick in his mouth. His partner, who had been sitting in an over-sized chair on the other side of their over-sized coffee table, materialized behind me, his crotch nesting in the crack of my ass. I turned my head and my lips found his, warm and receptive. The partner turned me around and guided my mouth down onto his dick. This left my ass exposed and Mike didn’t hesitate a moment. He was up inside me in an instant. Fortunately I came pre-lubed, and with the 420 working its way into my system, I was relaxed enough to take it without recoiling in pain.

This went on for awhile, until one of them suggested we move to the bedroom. My pants were still around my ankles, so I stopped to remove them and my socks before following Mike into the bedroom. Once inside, it was full tilt boogie time. They both fucked me, repeatedly and I fucked Mike twice before losing my load deep inside him. The partner fucked Mike a few times, too, but decided it was my ass he wanted to breed. Mike came twice before the night was over; once in me and once on my face. They took breaks throughout all this, running off to the bathroom. They also paused occasionally to adjust the airflow from an open window. At least that’s what I was hoping they were doing. The paranoid part of me was terrified that they were filming this, or that they had a live webcam going, or that someone in an adjacent building was watching us through the window. Ah, that would be the 420 talking.

The only other odd thing at play was the sexual banter going on between the two of them. Mike’s voice got a little higher immediately after doing poppers and he kept calling his partner by a certain term of endearment that under normal circumstances would have probably escaped my notice. However, there’s something in the pitch of Mike’s voice and his rate of delivery that caused my paranoia to kick into overdrive. It reminded me of something you would hear in the movie “People Under the Stairs”. Thankfully, there were only two brief episodes of this type of banter between them and in the end I just wrote it off as something they get off on. They do… I did not.

In any event, we ended up as one sweaty, cum-stained, seething heap of man flesh. Everyone was totally satiated and coming down from their popper/420/orgasm highs. We made our way to the bathroom where we all showered and made small talk. I got dressed and left, thanking my hosts profusely. I had a wonderful time.

Once on the street, I got my bearings and attempted to retrace the route the cab took. I succeed up to a point. Then? I was lost. Maybe. I kept calming my inner-self down, aware of the late hour and the fact that there were tons of dark corners yet to pass. I changed routes several times, certain that I had lost my bearings. In the end, I ended up going out of my way four blocks south and two east of my hotel.

Let me tell you about the streets of San Francisco! At two in the morning? It’s like a zombie video game. Hookers appeared out of alleyways and floated toward me. On every street corner there was some hooded, cloaked figure whispering, “’sup, dude?” Everyone looked like they were on heroin or crack. It was a world of shadows. I was never so grateful to be back in my hotel. That’s the night I first noticed the tranny hookers outside my hotel window. I watched them in action until I drifted off to sleep.

Based on my experience the previous night, I vowed to be a good boy the next day. That lasted until after dinner. About 10:30 pm, I was back on-line and in short order started a conversation with a very to-the-point black man 12 years my junior. His picture seemed nice, I liked his stats, and I wasn’t getting a weird vibe from him, but then his conversation was so terse I had no idea what to expect once he showed up on my doorstep. They locked the hotel doors at midnight, so I had to go down to the lobby to let him in. Standing out on the front steps was a very pleasant looking black man. There was a softness to his face that I had not expected and his smile totally won me over.

We ended up having a very easy evening together. He’s an excellent kisser and extremely passionate. I was unable to place his accent; vaguely British, colonial. Our conversation flowed as easily as our bodies did into one another’s. No poppers needed this evening. His cock felt like liquid as I slid up and down it; my hole receptive and relaxed. There was no anger in this fuck, but rather something sweet and kind. When, at last, we both came, we melted into one another like deserving schoolboys. This one lingered and as he dressed to go there was a part of me that wished he would stay longer.

I spent the next day on Alcatraz; then drinks, then dinner. It was my last night in town, but I was too tired to haul my ass over to the Castro, and, quite frankly, given my experience walking home the other night, was a little leery of leaving my hotel room. I got on-line and was hit on almost immediately by a short Puerto Rican, who was eager and at least ten years younger than me. His profile featured a pic of his dick, and at 8.5” it held a lot of promise.

He arrived after midnight, so I had to go down and let him in. Right away I realized I’d probably made a mistake. His body reeked of cigarette smoke and his breath, of beer. As we rode up in elevator I noticed, in the harsh light, the bags under his eyes and while I felt a bit sorry for him, I also began thinking of ways of getting out of this situation. Once on my floor, should I just get out of the elevator, push him back, and say, “No.”? No, I couldn’t do that. Wordlessly he followed me to my room.

Once there, we undressed and he sat on the end of my bed. His dick was already hard and while it looked inviting, it was the only part of him that held any appeal for me. So I concentrated on it. Ten minutes later, he slid his back up against the headboard and beckoned me on board. Grabbing the poppers that he had, thankfully, brought, and some lube, I worked my hole down the length of his pole until I was seated firmly on his pelvis. I decided to get this dude off as fast as possible before the stench of his nicotine soaked body penetrated my pillows. Shifting my legs, I moved my feet so that they were flat on either side of his body. Then I began to pile-drive my ass up and down his cock squeezing my sphincter for all it was worth. It paid off. In a matter of minutes the dude shot his load and came gallons. After that, I was civil, but made no effort to engage him further or give him reason to believe that his presence was required any longer. He cleaned up and dressed. He seemed sweet enough, in a sad way, and while there was a part of me that wanted to rescue him, there was also that part of me that wanted to go to bed as soon as possible.

It was not a great ending to my otherwise excellent adventure, but hey, five out of six? Not bad. My memories of San Francisco are a bit tainted, but then, considering the condition of the city, what else could I have expected? I’m glad I went, but not sure if I will ever return. The entire time I was there everyone kept commenting on how they could not believe I’d come there that weekend when the next weekend was Castro Days (or something like that), when gay people run naked and leather clad through the streets.

Now that? That might well be worth returning for.

Next Up: My Weekend in Duluth, MN