Not all sex is good sex. Sometimes it’s just so-so. And sometimes it is just so god-damn awful I can’t work up the strength to drag my ass to the bathroom mirror to chastise myself. Keep in mind it’s not always my fault, but sometimes it is. The items I am about to discuss go beyond the realm of pet peeves. These are deal breakers that will cause me to block your email or duck behind the nearest tree or into the nearest bathroom stall so I am not tempted to expose myself to your shenanigans again-agains.
Those of you on the front lines know exactly what I’m talking about. And to illustrate please permit me to be graphic and blunt (not that I am ever any other way). Here are a few of the things that make for really bad sex.
Shit on My Dick
The Issue: Hate this. Just hate it. It is a total bummer and a real momentum killer. I die a little inside every time this happens and my insides are not the only thing that dies in that moment. So bottoms? If you haven’t done your due diligence ahead of time, and douched like a good little bottom should, simply say so. Don’t go offering up your ass to be fucked or eaten if you’re not at least 99% sure it is clean. Granted, as a top, if you’re fucking a dude’s ass you know you’re running a risk of coming in contact with a little butt menses, but that is not what I am talking about here. I’m talking about those bottoms who consistently offer up their dirty ass when the whole thing could be (and should be) avoided if you would just say, “You know what? I’m not up for that.” Use some common sense, people. Unless the whole scat thing is your scene – and then you should definitely be up front about that, because that ain’t everybody’s cup of tea.
The Catalyst: So there is this dude in my neighborhood – tiny bod, no body fat, nice dick, great kisser, hot ass. We click on so many levels. I used to visit him about three years ago, until the shit issue just became this common occurrence with him and then I decided to stop seeing him. So about a month ago he answers a Craigslist ad I have posted asking for someone to come over and let me blow them while I wear a blindfold. Well, one thing leads to another and soon he’s sticking his ass in my face. Remember - I don’t realize it’s him. So naturally it goes to the same place it always ends up – with me wanting to ram my dick up his ass. He’s good to go – only – he’s not. Not at all. A week later he emails me and wants a repeat. I think – okay, last time was my fault – dude thought he was just coming over to get sucked off, so my bad. I go ahead and set up a fuck date with him, assuming that by now the man gets it; when I come anywhere near his hot little bottom, I am going to want to stick my dick in it. Well, as the saying goes… assume = ass of you and me. Or in this case, just me. And in this case, dirty, dirty shit filled ass. So, that’s it for me. He is on my permanent, personal no fly zone.
Playmates who are Physically Way-Over Aggressive
The Issue: I’m talking about those dudes who seem to believe that it is sexy as hell to leave their sexual partner with a swollen lip or black and blue marks. If that is your thing – you need to be up front about it, because when I come over to give you a blow job I do not expect to have my face pummeled bloody by your pelvis. If I come over so you can fuck my ass I do not plan on leaving with giant welts on my butt cheeks – giant welts that later become unsightly black and blue marks. I go to the gym, people. Dudes I don’t even like see me naked. So show some restraint and keep in mind that sex is supposed to be pleasurable for both parties involved.
The Catalyst: There is this lovely, handsome black man – reasonably sized dick, beautiful eyes, incredible body, worked out, sexy as hell, and sweet as hell, too. That is until I’m sucking his dick or he’s fucking me. Then this tiny, little, clueless demon emerges and he goes all terroristic on my ass. Maybe it’s the poppers. He loves them. So much so, that sometimes, after an hour and a half of ram jam there is no jam to be found and his ram is definitely on the wane. He used to wear a chrome cock collar until I finally had to tell him that my teeth just could not risk anymore exposure to that kind of danger. The man loses it every fucking time we fuck and throws his muscled body at me and into me with all the force he can muster. Now I wish I could say that I am all caught up in the passion of the moment and don’t care – but usually by the time he’s working my mouth or ass like a Coke machine that just took his last dollar (think - bam bam bam), I have been checked out emotionally for at least fifteen minutes. I’m all for marathon sex, if the sex is red hot. But when the sex has all the allure of a snuff film, dude? It is time to call it a day.
So after not seeing this dude for some time (we have fucked on and off for years now) he’s back on my radar. He comes over to my house for a blow job in my garage and for once – everything is cool. He fucks my face and cums after about 20 minutes. He leaves all smiles and so do I. So weeks go by and he wants me to come to his house and blow him in his basement. Cool with me. I arrive, walk down the stairs and there he is – all sexy wearing nothing but his black dress socks. He starts to take the dress socks off, but I tell him to leave them on, they do something for me. Things are going fine. He’s aggressive as usual, but not too much; hitting the poppers like they are oxygen and he can’t breathe. I have a hard on the entire time and am working it with my hand and he is getting off on that, too. After about 20 minutes, he sits on the bottom of the steps that lead upstairs. I’m thinking – this is good – now I’m in control. I’m working my magic on his stiff cock and he’s making noises like pay day is coming soon. Just the sound of this man approaching orgasm is enough to make me shoot my load – which I do. Not having shot my load all week, it feels awesome and splatters all over the bottom step and floor – I just love making a big, hot mess. I come off my orgasm high realizing that the postman has failed to deliver, so my work on this route is not done. However, the sight of me shooting sends him into overdrive – but not in a good way. He proceeds to ram my face onto his dick like he is trying to weld my skull to his pelvis. I am trying to resist, because I know where this is headed. And he fucking goes there anyway; cums, but not before he has made mincemeat out of the inside of my upper lip. I am like, what the fuck? Fucker made me bleed. So it’s over. Over and done. Don’t come knocking, because, dude, for you, I am not home.
Pinching My Nipples with your Finger Nails
The Issue: I like my nips played with. I wish they were more sensitive and hardwired to my dick, but they’re not. Still, you can pay them some attention, and lots of dudes do just that. But sometimes that attention is a little too on the point. As in: pinching the hell out of them with your finger nails. This leads to my nips being all roughed up and raw the next day. And there is nothing worse than raw nips when you’re running for a half hour on a treadmill wearing a t-shirt because it is gym policy. Mega ouch. Also, the sweat acts like some kind of corrosive agent making my bitty titties just scream. So use the fleshy part of your finger tips. I like pressure and pleasure, not sharpness and pain.
The Catalyst: One of my all-time favorite fuckers is guilty of this one. He is such a sweetheart (and such a good fuck – think: dick of death), that I just don’t have the heart to complain. I know I should say something, and I sort of do – when it gets to bordering on Saw IV time, I will remove his hands or reposition his fingers so that he isn’t cutting into my flesh. And I think he’s taking the hint – last time I saw him he was all fingertips and no finger nails (maybe he just needs to trim them more often?). But in any case, just as I have to accept that this dude has no interest in ever kissing me, so will I need to suck up the fact that he may be just a touch insensitive when it comes to my nips. Sometimes a great fuck requires some sacrifice. Of course, I could also just try talking to him about it, but then talking isn’t something we do a great deal of when we’re together.
The Issue: Okay, so we have all been with our share of bad kissers. I’m talking about the tight-mouthed motherfuckers whose lips are so hard that it is like kissing a mummy. Then there are those who seem to think that their tongue belongs everyplace except inside their own mouth. Only thing worse? Those that think flicking their tongue in and out and all over your lips is sexy. What the hell is that about? If I want that I will kiss one of my dogs. Then there are the ones who practically drown you in a sea of saliva. Ugh. Bad breath? Cigarette Death Breath? Yep, had him, too. I place all these guys in the same league – The League of Clueless Bastards. You would think that all that squirming and pursing of lips that you do would inform them that something is amiss and that they may need to change up their game. But oh no, it’s like you might as well not even be in the same room for all the attention they are paying you. It’s like a cousin of mine once said to me after we danced together at a bar one night, “I guess you can just dance by yourself. You don’t need me at all.” And there you have it. What a fucking selfish bastard I was twirling about and getting all fancy. I totally forgot that I had a dance partner to play off of. So I learned that lesson. And that lesson applies to kissing, too. So all of the above deserve their special place in the kissing hall of shame – but the big winners – if you can call them that –are the over kissers. These are the guys who seem to think that sexy kissing involves opening their mouths wide; as wide as they possibly can so they can engulf your face. What the fuck? Those teeth of yours scraping on the sides of my mouth and cheeks aren’t enough of an indication that perhaps you’re a little off the mark?
The Catalyst: A dude I was totally hot to meet – tall (taller than me!), blonde, incredibly good looking, fucking killer eyes, super toned body and a big, fat nine-incher. We played email tag like crazy and then finally meet up. It’s during one of my ass sabbaticals, so all I have to offer is a blow job. He accepts. We meet up – I’m not going to give the specifics, but it was way sexy, crazy and risky. We kiss a bit, I blow him and he goes. We then plan to meet up again, same time/same channel – but this time he wants to fuck me and I’m game. I blow him a bit. Slide a rubber on his dick and he fucks me doggy-style. Fucking feels great. Then I arch up and we kiss. All is good, but he doesn’t want to shoot in the condom, so I pull it off and we seriously start macking on each other. And that’s when he becomes Mr. Big Mouth. Teeth scrape my cheek and I end up feeling mauled, as in, by a dog. He shoots his load all over me and it’s hot. But the moment is gone. He wants to stick around for me to cum, but I wave him off. Would I fuck him again? You bet. But the big mouthed kissing thing has really tempered my enthusiasm. Maybe next time I’ll just keep it doggy-style. Eh, truth is he can have another ride any way he wants it, he’s sort of worth the face scraping.
People Who Don’t Know How to Eat Ass, But Insist on Eating Ass
The Issue: Eating ass is not for everyone. I have been turned down numerous times and take the hint. I get it – not everybody is turned on by the idea of some guy mouthing their muffin. Fortunately, based on the feedback that I have received first hand (and the repeat business that has resulted), I happen to know I’m pretty good-to-great when it comes to eating ass. I must admit, it has a lot to do with the individual ass; if it is not clean, then I’m out. If it is not mouth-watering hot, I will probably still dive in, but not bring my A-game and move onto something else before the momentum dies. And this is my point people – if you are not into it or are not good at it – do move on, quickly. I cannot tell you the number of times some dude is all hot to eat my ass and I am more than good to go only to discover that the dude has no idea what the fuck he is doing. Seriously – it is a total mystery as to what some of these guys are doing back there, but getting me off is not one of them. The worst are the total frauds who talk a good game, but when it comes to putting their mouth where the action is act like suspicious squirrels, squinting and pursing up their lips like the dumb pussies they are. For god’s sake – dive in. This is the one time where I will happily take one of those guys whose kisses are all saliva, because getting my boy box wet is definitely on the menu and part of the plan. The other part involves deep tissue massage ala your lips and tongue. Don’t be shy, make a pig of yourself – they call it eating ass for a reason.
The Catalyst: I love wearing a blindfold on occasion. It can make for hot, hot sex based purely on the sensitivity of my other senses. It’s a bit risky, but I’ve lucked out. The scene is somewhat predictable – guy enters, guy sticks dick in my mouth, guy fingers my ass as I suck his dick, dude moves around behind me, dude eats ass, dude fucks ass, dude shoots, dude leaves. Maybe there’s some kissing and maybe some attention is paid to my dick, but that is the basic flow of the scene. However, it is always a different experience – every time, even with dudes I have done the exact same scene with before. So please note one of the hallmarks of this experience is the eating of my ass. No, it does not happen every time, but it is kind of the norm for me. Dudes who want to fuck my ass generally want to eat it first – I’m cool with that. As long as they know what the fuck they are doing. Because the eating of the ass? It is not required reading. You do not have to pass go to get the two-hundred dollars. So you should only eat my ass if that is truly something that will add to the experience – for both of us. Nothing kills the momentum of a hot date like a questionable segment. It is like dead air on a television station – it should never happen. So don’t dive between those cheeks, Mister unless you got a little something for me, because I can huff all the poppers I want to while you’re back there scratching your head, but it is not going to bring it on home for this trooper. I’m looking in your direction Mr. Pinch-Faced Fuckwad Accountant. Don’t try to sell me on something you can’t deliver. You only get one go around at this here buffet.
Okay… so, Boom, there it is. Or at least there some of it is. The rest? Maybe we’ll get to it another time.
And now the big ugly truth: Yes, lordy, lordy, yes… I am just as guilty as all five of the motherfuckers I just called out onto the carpet. I have been all these men – BUT – and this is a big but (not as big as some butts, but still big): I learn from my mistakes. Maybe I do not get invited back after the alleged incident, but I am self-aware enough to know that my performance can always be improved upon and that when the push comes to shove and the shove leads to love – there are (at least) two people swapping DNA involved in every less-than-satisfactory session of bumping uglies. And one of those uglies is me! And I am the only one I have any control over. So I make a point to educate myself and listen to my partner, pick up on the tiny hints his body language and face communicate and do my best to not put my own needs before those of others (except for that one part when there’s no going back and then I’m all about getting my own cookies - sorry). So while I claim to be a great lover, I am not perfect. My douching is not foolproof. I have offered up my ass from time to time unsure of its sanctity or sanitary nature. I have, in the throes of lust, been told that I need to pedal the metal back a bit and chill. It is true that I am on occasion guilty of getting a little mean with my partners nips and balls and causing them unhappiness and unintentional and unwanted physical pain. There is no doubt that my kisses tend to veer toward the wet side and are not always to everyone’s liking. And, yes, brothers, I have toiled or contemplated toiling away at the hairy crevice of a lover only to leave them wanting.
Yes. I have sinned. But I have learned from my mistakes and transcended them and made restitution to those I have wronged when possible and warranted.
Can I get an Amen? No?
Then can I get somebody to take over for the dude with the pinched face trying to eat my ass? Because that motherfucker is working my last nerve.