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Friday, March 26, 2010

Ghost in the Woods: Return of the Pale Rider

Last Tuesday the sky was full of promise and the air carried the fragrant tinge of spring. I couldn’t help myself, I just had to head to the Prairie and see what state it was in. Parking in my usual place, I change from my work clothes into my hiking duds and hit the trail. Walking down that now-familiar black-topped lane, I take note of the various changes that have taken place over the winter. Minor things, really. The bog to the left of the path looks as though someone or something has mowed down a good deal of the dried reeds that normally populate its surface. A few more trees are gone and the wooded area near the railroad tracks at the entrance of the trail appears oddly thinned. I laugh when I see that the Park and Rec folks had placed a metal gate over the entrance to one of the more popular mountain biking trails. A metal gate? Really? Like that is going to stop them? Silly Park and Rec. Always wasting money and time and screwing up the natural order of things.

However, all of this could not prepare me for what has become of my beloved Prairie. As I scale the neglected, abused, rutted gravel road that winds its way towards it, my heart flips. They’ve mowed back all the wonderful weeds that once surrounded the entrance of the trail leading to the main part. Last year, I used to look for rabbits as I approached, frequently catching them off guard. I took each sighting o as a sign of good luck. The area now looks so bare and manicured. Reaching the top of trail, I see that the same is true of most of the landscape.

My favorite spots have been mowed out of existence. I’m sure it will grow back, but it’s disheartening, none the less. The previous year they mowed it at the beginning of the season. This year the area as a whole appears flatter and more tamed. I take note of the tire ruts that course through the center of the main field. Last summer the cops took to driving through the center in order to scare up guys lying naked in the grass. Rather stupid. Someone could have been hurt. I then notice that the tracks run right through one of my favorite enclaves. That someone could very easily have been me.

I walk around, amazed by all the debris that is now exposed due to the mowing. The toe of my shoe works its way through the occasional pile of condom wrappers and empty lube containers. I cannot believe all the discarded plastic water bottles. Some people have no class. Littering is just not cool. Ever.

Of course I wouldn’t be noticing any of this if the Prairie had just been left alone. Hopefully, all the foliage will grow back. Though, upon closer inspection, I see some things are gone forever.

Two trees. Gone. One stood in the far corner of the Prairie. Here, guys would hang out in the hopes of hooking up. It not only offered a bit of visual coverage, but also served as a convenient meeting place. Now it’s all open and bare looking. Perhaps once things leaf out a bit more better cover will be provided, but for now it looks sad and hollow. I stand on the stump of the tree and imagine all the joy its shelter must have given those cruising the area. It served a good purpose. I know the tree was riddled with disease and had failed to leaf out last year, so, while I understand why it had to be cut down, I still mourn its passing.

Making my way through one of the minor paths, I come face-to-face with a family of deer. There are three of them: one large, one medium and one small. Frozen in place, standing not more than a few yards away from me, they gaze back at me. Apparently they were not expecting any visitors this early in the season. I am awed by their beauty – their tails appear enormous. Speaking to them softly and briefly, I apologize for barging in on them. Then, retracing my steps, I return to the main path. Surprisingly, they don’t spring off in fear, but continue to watch me as I move away from them.

I decide to check out one of my favorite troll sites. It’s a little nook in the woods near the edge of the Prairie where guys looking to suck cock routinely hang out. I have played with dudes here on a few occasions (no trolls), though I primarily use it as a place to take a leak. The brush that shields the cocksuckers also serves to hide a guy relieving himself. I decide to take a piss. Ahh, I love the outdoors. Zipping up, I’m startled by an approaching cyclist.

I recognize him almost immediately. Last year there was this dude I noted in my diary; late twenties, pale skin, about 5’10”, blue eyes, nice, pouty lips and a lovely bald/shaved head. He always rides a bike, a rather expensive looking one and always wears a helmet. He seems to like the athletic wear that goes with owning such a bike and today is no exception. He is decked out in some kind of blue lycra body suit to keep him warm. He looks as exotic, futuristic and cute as ever.

I had opportunity to play with him twice last year, and both times the same thing happened. He’s very skittish. His approach was quite bold both times, so there was no question that he wanted to play. Luring me off to some far corner of the woods, he’d whip out his dick. I’d start sucking it and licking his balls. He seemed to be liking it, when suddenly he would get all spooked over something, pack up his business and ride off without cumming. The first time it happened I thought he must have seen someone and was afraid of getting caught. But the second time I, being hyper-aware of my surroundings, knew that there was no one about, so it kind of pissed me off.

The other thing about this dude is… he never says a word. He just appears out of nowhere on that bike of his, like a ghost. He’s about as pale as one, too.

So the whole thing begins to play out just like it did last summer; his approach is non-verbal, but obvious. I tell him there is no one around, except for the three deer I just saw. This seems to calm him and he rolls his bike off the path to lean it against a tree. He removes his helmet and moves toward me. Wasting no time, he pulls his dick out. It’s not hard, but I’m pretty sure I know how to change that. I move into him, cupping his balls with my left hand. His left hand moves to the cheeks of my ass and I’m thinking this could get way fun. For about two minutes we grope on each other. Then I decide to unzip and let my jeans fall to my ankles. He makes a grab for my dick and I am instantly hard. All this time, he is looking over his shoulder out of fear of being caught. I decide not to waste my breath. This is his M.O. This is the way he is. Maybe he gets off on it; the possibility being the bigger part of the thrill.

Deciding to go for broke, I crouch down and take his semi-hard dick into my mouth. It’s a nice dick, very average, maybe 7”. Very hairless, too, as it the rest of him. He reaches over my back and places a pale finger on my hole. As I’m slurping on his knob, my hands wander over his upper torso. Still in good shape, he’s definitely put on a couple of pounds since last summer. But then it is the beginning of the season and I am sure he’ll work it off biking around.

After a few minutes of lip service, he pulls his dick out of my mouth. I move to lick his balls, taking them both into my mouth and giving them a slight downward tug, just to see if it gets a reaction. It does, but not the one I had hoped for. Without saying anything or pushing me away I immediately sense that the dude is about to bolt. I rise from my crouched position, not sure what’s up. He pulls away from me for a second and then returns just as quickly, pulling me to him as he reaches around me and slides his hand down the crack of my exposed ass. Instinctively, I react by sticking my ass out just slightly, pushing against the pressure of his fingers.

Spinning me around, he wets his index finger and plants it firmly against my pucker, working it in ever so slightly. I would love nothing more than to get fucked, but I’m not really prepared so I don’t push it. Still, he seems intent upon playing with my hole. Instead of working toward penetration, I pull off his finger and give him a little show. He’s jacking his dick the entire time, loving it as I spread my ass cheeks for him. His hand never leaves my hole as he physically presses closer to me. I’m thinking maybe he will hump my ass, but, no… I get a sense that he’s afraid of that kind of physical contact. And that’s when it hits me – the reason he always ran off before – he just wants to jerk off and fuck around a bit – nothing more. He’s one of those guys. You know, the kind that love porn and the notion of fucking more than the actuality. They’re a pain in the ass if you’re agenda does not match theirs.

So for the next few minutes, I play porn star for him, striking hard core poses. Bending over, I push my hard dick down between my legs, making sure he appreciates everything I got. He does. I never get to touch his dick again, but he works my hole with his fingers repeatedly, pulling back every so often to make sure no one is watching. He then moves in closer, grabbing my dick and working it with his hand. Finally his own urges get the best of him and he fires off a load. As he cums, he backs away from me, as if he’s ready to flee. I think about working my own out, but decide that the moment has passed. Gripping his dick, he squeegees all the cum off it and with a sharp shake of his hand, flings it to the ground. Watching it fly through the air a second time is almost as good as seeing it fly the first. Quickly he pulls up his lycra-like pants and reclaims his bike. I’m still standing there with my pants around my ankles, hard dick in hand and my ass bare to the world as my little ghost sails off on his bike.

He murmurs something like, “Thanks, man”, as he makes his escape. “Anytime”, I say as cheerfully as possible. I pull up my pants, tucking my raging hard-on safe in a denim cocoon. I decide to hang around for a bit more. There’s a lot of the Prairie I still have to check out.

As I move toward the beach area, I realize that the season has begun with the finishing some unfinished business. I have little doubt that this spirit will revisit me at least once more this summer, but at least now I know what to do and, more importantly, what not to do. What I’ve learned is that you have to remain ever vigilant in the presence of the ethereal.

Some ghosts spook easily.

Friday, March 19, 2010

The Kinky Report: March 16, 2009-March 15, 2010


On March 16, 2009, I began keeping a diary of sorts in order to capture information regarding my sexual exploits. The following is a list of statistics I was able to glean from the recorded data. The diary is fairly accurate as I did a relatively good job of consistently recording my exploits. However, as I reviewed the year I noticed that on at least two occasions I failed to remember what had taken place on a given date (noting it as such) and I also noticed that several experiences were not recorded though I do recall them having taken place (two repeated scenarios with individuals that were not recorded in the diary on as many occasions as I know them to have taken place).


Closed for Business: 40 Days
Stood Up: 8 Times
No, Didn’t Find Anything or Not in the Mood: 157 Days
Total Days of No Sexual Activity: 205 (56% of Year)
Number of Days I Did Look and Find or Plan: 160 (1.67 Men per Day) (44% of Year)
Total Number of Times I Participated in Sexual Activity: 267

ActivityNo Cum: Number of Times Guys Failed or Chose Not to Cum: 38
Flip Flop: 6
Me Top: 16
Oral on Me: 18
Oral: 148
Anal: 4
Oral and Anal: 92
Kiss: 65
Rim(me or them): 26
J/O: 19
Menage a trios: 12
Group Activity: 5
Blindfolded: 35

Total Outdoors: 160 (60% of all sexual activity for year)
Bog/Wirth: 50
Prairie: 74
St Paul: 3
East River Road: 33

Car: 14 (At the listed parks)

Total Indoors: 107 (40% of all sexual activity for the year)
Rehab House: 33
My Place: 11
Their Place: 47
Hotel: 4
Public (Garage, Restroom, Sauna, Gym, or Their Office): 12

The ExperienceExceptional: 28 (10.5%)
Good: 74 (27.5%)
Average: 108 (40.5%)
Bad: 57 (21%)
Repeat: 122

RaceWhite:225 (84%)
Black: 20 (7.5%)
Asian: 2 (1%)
East Indian: 6 (2%)
Hispanic: 14 (5%)
Over 8: 54 (20%)
7 to 8: 99 (37%)
Under 7: 114 (43%)
20’s: 35 (13%)
30’s: 74 (28%)
40’s: 102 (38%)
50’s: 53 (20%)
60’s: 3 (1%)

Physical Condition
Good Shape: 89 (33%)
Okay Shape: 124 (46%)
Bad Shape: 54(20%)
Handsome: 64 (24%)
Bald: 42 (16%)

Definition of Terms

Closed for Business: 40
Due to a series of minor surgeries that took place during the year and the aftermath of recovery associated, I was physically unable to participate in sexual activity on these days. These may have also been days when I had a cold and abstained. This accounts for 12% of the year.

Stood Up: 8
These are occasions when I had plans with an individual and that individual failed to show. This would sour my mood and curtail activities for that day.

No, Didn’t Find Anything or Not in the Mood: 157
Data failed to distinguish between these two reasons for lack of sexual activity.

Flip Flop: 6
Describes occasions when an individual would perform anal sex as a top with me in the role of bottom and then I would perform anal sex as a top with them in the role of bottom.

Me Top: 16
Times I served as the only top during the encounter, describing occasions when I would perform anal sex as a top with them in the role of bottom.

Oral on Me: 18
Occasions when I received oral sex from another – this may, or may not have been done in conjunction with other types of sexual activity.

Oral: 148
Occasions when the only activity engaged in, other than kissing, fondling or frottage, was me performing oral sex on an individual

Anal: 4
Occasions when the only activity engaged in was me being topped (receiving anal sex or bottoming) by an individual (no kissing, fondling or frottage).

Oral and Anal: 92
Occasions when I performed oral sex on an individual and received anal sex from the same individual.

Kiss: 65
Occasions when kissing was involved.

Rim (me or them): 26
Occasions when rimming was involved. I performed it on them and/or they performed it on me.

Menage a trios: 12
Occasions when two individuals and myself participated in sexual activities with one another at the same time.

J/O: 19
Occasions when masturbation (mutual or solo) was performed on myself by another or by myself on another – this may, or may not have been done in conjunction with other types of sexual activity.

Group Activity: 5
Occasions when 3 or more individuals and myself participated in sexual activities with one another at the same time.
Least number present (includes self) to qualify as Group Activity: 4.
Greatest number of individuals present (includes self) during a Group Activity session: 6

Blindfolded: 35
Occasions when I wore a blindfold during sexual activity. Typical scenario featured me wearing blindfold before other(s) arrived, until other(s) departed.

Total Outdoors: 160
Number of sexual encounters that took place outside, typically in wooded areas

Bog/Wirth: 50, Prairie: 74, St Paul: 3, East River Road: 33
Parks/Wooded Areas where sexual activity took place

Car: 14 (At the listed parks)
This number in included in the number of total outdoor sexual encounters and is accounted for as they related to the park/wooded area where initial contact and subsequent agreement to engage in sexual activity took place.

Total Indoors: 107
Number of sexual encounters that took place indoors (Private House or Public Building)

Rehab House: 33
Occasions when an individual(s) would come to a house I was rehabbing for the purposes of sexual activity

Hotel: 4
Scenario where I traveled to their (out of town visitor) hotel room, here in the Twin Cities

Public (Garage, Restroom, Sauna, Gym, or Their Office): 12
Occasions when sex took place in a non-traditional location other than outdoors

The Experience (Exceptional: 27, Good: 73, Average: 107, Bad: 56)
These ratings are defined by my personal likes and dislikes as relating to sexual activity and/or the physical attributes or behavior of the individual(s) involved. Ratings are of a purely subjective nature.

Repeat: 122
Occasions when I had engaged in sexual activity with a given individual on more than one occasion. This number also includes the first time I played with a given individual who I then engaged in sexual activity at another time during the defined year. It also includes individuals with whom I engaged in sexual activity with prior to the beginning of the defined year, but had occasion to have engage in sexual activity during the defined year. Dubious nature/value of given statistic duly noted.

Size (Over 8: 54, 7 to 8: 99, Under 7: 114)
As it relates to the length of an individuals fully erect penis in units of inches. Measurements based on personal visual determination or claims of individual as stated in emails and then verified via personal visual determination.

Age (20’s: 35, 30’s: 74, 40’s: 102, 50’s: 53, 60’s: 3)
In terms of years, based on personal visual determination or claims of individual as stated in emails or during conversation and then verified via personal visual determination.

Physical Condition:
As it relates to an individual’s body in terms of muscle tone, percentage of body fat and a visual determination of physical health. Determination subjective in nature.

Good Shape: 89 (33%)
Individual displayed one or more of the following attributes: Muscular Physique, Toned Physique, Low % of Body Fat, Flat Abdomen. A Build that could be described as: Muscular, Toned, Trim, Worked-Out, Somewhat Worked-Out, Buff, Swimmers, Thin, Wiry, Athletic, Jock, Slim, Twink

Okay Shape: 124 (46%)
Individual displayed one or more of the following attributes: A Somewhat Muscular Physique, A Somewhat Toned Physique, Average to Somewhat More Than Average % of Body Fat, A Slightly Protruding Belly (Hard). A Build that could be described as: Beefy, Bear, Average,

Bad Shape: 54(20%)
Individual displayed one or more of the following attributes: A Lack of Muscular Tone, More Than Average to Excessive % of Body Fat, A Distended Belly (Soft)
A Build that could be described as: Flabby, Large, Big, Fat, Obese, Soft, Unkempt,

Handsome: 64
As it relates to the construction and contours of an individuals face, determination subjective in nature.

Bald: 42
Includes individuals with shaved, closely buzzed or naturally bald heads. Does not include individuals who are balding or have an “eagles nest” hair style.

I’m a big slut.

But there is room to grow.

Seriously… what is with all the down time? Had I tracked my activities in downtown Minneapolis during the mid to late 90’s and early 00’s, I’m sure my batting average would have been way up. As it is I seem to be making up in quantity what I lack in consistency.

So, am I sex addict? Well, duh. But does it have a negative impact on my life? Answer: sort of. But only during that time period when I’m waiting to hear the results of my latest blood tests. The anxiety experienced is intensified during those times when dudes send me vague emails informing me that they got an email from someone who got an email from someone who may have played with somebody who may have played with somebody who has… gasp… syphilis! But so far, knock on wood, no V.D. for me. And considering the number of times I played with total strangers this year I guess I should consider myself pretty lucky. I get checked out four times a year. And if you play as hard as I do, you should, too.


There are a few of the stats that fail to capture much information, such as the Repeat figure (as noted). And I am wondering if I can go back to the hard data and determine exactly how many different men those 267 sexual experiences relate to, because that would be interesting to know.

I think there was a time when I first started the diary that I did try to get out there every day and find a little something-something to report. I also worry that I may have been numbers-driven and therefore had sex with guys whom I wasn’t into at all, but then that goes back to the whole mercy fuck thing which I am so over.


I did notice a drop off in activity around the Xmas Holidays. I also noticed a drop in activity during the fourth quarter. I think this was due, in part, to a number of things: 1/ I learned to say no, 2/ I spent less time on the internet looking for hook-ups, and 3/ it may have been a reverse reaction to my overachieving ways of the summer months.

The whole getting fucked wearing a blindfold thing was new to me this year. I’d never done it before. That figure is a little misleading, since a few of the times that I wore the blindfold involved more than one guy (2-5 minus self). That said, the group and ménage trios figures are accurate, because no matter the number of participants, each event was only counted once.

I was surprised by the number of times guys didn’t cum or chose not to cum. I mean, that’s the whole point of playing, isn’t it? I failed to capture the number of times I did not cum, but then I know that when I don’t cum it’s because I don’t want to - the moment passed, or I don’t want to – I have something else lined up right after you, sugar.

The data on race kind of surprised me. I am an equal opportunity enjoyer, so I was surprised by the number of white guys. I just have a feeling that there are not enough minorities out there looking for the kind action I am, since a lot of what I reported falls under the category of chance encounters in the woods. I certainly never turn anyone down because of the color of their skin. And looks? Being a rather unattractive man I am very liberal when it comes to how handsome or not-so-handsome someone is. In fact, I have gone on the record on this very blog saying that I actually prefer men with flaws. Appreciating the flaws keeps it interesting. It also significantly increases the number of times I get laid. Still, I must say I was surprised by the number of really handsome men that I was able to attract. I don’t know what they see in me, but I am thinking that if it is true that a hard dick has no conscience than I am also thinking it might be true that a hard dick places a thick coat of Vaseline over the lens of one’s eyes.

Of the 267 encounters there was only one I would never-ever do again. Of those same 267 encounters there is only one that I truly wish I could have a second chance, a do-over, only because my performance sucked (and not in a good way).

Final Thoughts

Summer is just around the corner, and I have no idea just how I will be spending it. I’m not sure what is planned for the Prairie this year. Will they turn it into a parking lot? Will they carve it up into go-cart trails? Who knows? All I know is my ass will be out there, naked to the sun somewhere. And wherever my ass is bare, you know you got a shot at hitting that, so bring it on.

This also marks an entire year of once-a-week blog entries. That is something I wanted to achieve; to write something once a week. They all haven’t been that interesting, but I do try and change things up once in awhile. As I have hinted at recently, writing about nothing but sexual experiences gets real tiring after a point. I don’t know what I will be writing about in the coming year, but I am sure my sexual exploits will continue to be a topic I revisit from time to time. Truth is, other than today’s post, I never know what I’m going to write about until I start writing it.

I want to thank those of you who have contacted me. I appreciate your comments, criticisms and concern and understand those of you who need to remain anonymous. Discretion is a good thing.

The other night I had a dream, that I lived in this huge house and it was filled with stuff, like a hoarder’s house. I had to clean it all out and take it to the front yard where there was a big, wooden box with a lid, like a coffin, only cruder. I was compelled to take all that stuff, shove it in the box, hammer on the lid and cover it with dirt. I think, based on a lot of what I have been mulling over recently, that the stuff in the house represents my past. This dream is my subconscious telling me it is time to let go. I am not the person I once was, nor do I want to be. I don’t want to try and reclaim who I was before because it’s the one sure way of robbing myself of today. Regret is that great sucking sound your life makes when you’re not living in the moment. I struggle with myself. I tell myself I’ve lost focus and that I’m no longer being true to who I once was because I’m not doing the things I once did. I’m not utilizing the talents that I spent years struggling to develop. But that fact is, I’m not doing those things because… I don’t want to. I tried, really hard and I failed a lot. And it was okay to fail, because I learned. And one of the things I learned was that I don’t want to be involved in the same types of activities or expose myself to the types of people that might have once led to a bigger life. I need to accept that living a tiny life is just fine. There’s no shame in it. People do it all the time, some without ever realizing it. And that’s okay. There is joy to be found there.

There comes a time when you must embrace that which fits you.

So, here’s to my tiny life.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Doing my Duty as a Serviceman: We're All Soldiers in the Army of Something

Spring fever hit me a little early this year. As the sun and rain awakens Minnesota from its frigid slumber, I’ve been busy cruising several local parks – places that I have not visited for some time. Part of the reason for my absence has been due to my preoccupation with other outlets for sexual fulfillment, but in the case of one particular park I can say unequivocally it was due to the quality of men it seems to attract; guys who don’t seem to have any other outlet or activities, guys who don’t know what the term smaller portion means, guys who haven’t seen the inside of a gym or a dentist’s office in ages, guys who live in the bottom a bottle, and guys too old to be doing what they want to be doing (kettle beige, yes, but even I know my limits). It’s a sad little place, but one I haven’t quite kicked to the curb yet because it is so convenient – although I am more likely now to drive away after spending only 20 minutes there, rather than wait until something interesting arrives (it usually doesn’t). It only takes a few of the usual suspects to show up and start eying me before I’m slipping back into my seat belt and bolting. However, on occasion, I will get a pleasant surprise or two, or three, or four.

One Tuesday, the sun seemed particularly kind. There was moisture in the air, the kind that my skin has been denied way too long. It lifted my spirits just enough to start thinking about the great outdoors and its many sensual wonders. After work I stopped at the park that I had promised myself I would avoid -not because of the temptation, but because its lack thereof. It was such a nice day that I did not feel like wasting time, so I told myself that if there wasn’t anything of interest around, I would not be around very long either.

The winter and the park commission have not been kind to this park. Set aside the fact that they built really nice public restrooms that are never open (no doubt due to the types of activity they would attract). And forget all about that far parking lot that they shut down a few years back because of the type of activity it was attracting. And never mind that promised horse shoe area; it has all gone to the weeds. Their latest efforts to curb cruising activity in the park – or a sure sign of laziness on their part – has been their gating of the parking lot to the far south and their refusal to plow any of the snow leading to and in the parking lots to the north. That just leaves two parking lots, which you would think would be enough, but you have to keep in mind that there are tons of people who come to this particular park so their dogs can run off leash. They know what the other cars and trucks with the suspicious looking single males hunched down in the driver’s seat are all about. They don’t like it, but they also know they have no choice but to park next to us. And we don’t like it any more than they do. Those dog owners cramp our style. So it is an uneasy alliance to say the least.

I pull into my favorite spot and right away my eye is attracted to this rather large pick-up truck. It is huge, but not in a monster truck sort of way, although it is definitely quite a hi
ke up to the passenger seat. I have discreetly parked myself one spot away from it. Checking out the driver, I notice he’s mid-forties with a full head of salt and pepper hair, heavy on the pepper. I figure this is worth checking out, so I decide to hang. During the next ten minutes I undo my tie, gargle, brush my teeth and locate my poppers. During that same ten minutes I am cruised by two of the regulars, neither of whom do anything for me. One of them knows this, takes the hint and leaves shortly after arriving. The other, however, is one of those who can’t take a hint, so I end up showing him the back of my head until such time as his attention is taken elsewhere and he, too, drives off. That leaves the truck, my car and one other vehicle. In a rare instance of great timing, the owner of the other vehicle, one those dog owners, shows up, loads up his dog and takes his leave.

Now keep in mind that all I have seen of the gentleman in the truck is the top of his head and his eyes. The truck is so high that is all I can see from my vantage point in the driver’s seat of my economy sized car. Given that, I’m still all excited, thinking that something is about to happen. Will I get invited over (I love climbing up into the cab of those things) or will he walk over to me? I didn’t even get a chance to get nervous before he was out of his truck and walking my direction. Only he wasn’t. He walked right behind my car and made his way to the port-a-potty just up the hill. Did he expect me to follow? Without turning around once to indicate whether or not I should follow, he disappears behind the pine tree and into the john. Deciding to err on the side of possible sexual tryst, I grab my poppers and get out of my car. There is one way to tell whether or not this is a dude looking for a little lip service or if it is a dude just taking care of business, and that is the color of the little sign above the door handle of the port-a-potty. Red means stop – as in – I’m taking care of business or I’m not interested. Green means come on in, honey, the water is fine. Granted, on rare occasions someone wanting to take care of business just forgets to flip that door handle and lock it, but there is a way out of this, too. You open the door and then immediately say, “Oh! I’m sorry. Please excuse me.” If they are just there to do their business the door closes and they never make that same mistake again. But if they are looking for a little something-something they will gesture for you to come on in. In this case, I am ushered in with a gruff little laugh of derision, as in, oh, you silly little fag, get in here and suck my dick.

I sit down on the closed lid of the toilet and he turns to me, dick in hand. Granted, this is close quarters and there is only so much one can do, but in the past I have managed to get quite a bit done despite the lack of elbow room. And don’t get all grossed out about the port-a-potty aspect of this scene, fortunately this particular unit is cleaned on a regular basis and doesn’t stink. Much. It does smell of antiseptic chemicals, but then I must confess I have sucked dick in much less sanitary surroundings.

For starters I try to get a take on just who this man is… he’s mid-forties, his body is good, proportionate, maybe just a tad fleshy – but it is attractive flesh. His face carries a bit of scruff, maybe just a few days worth of beard and it suits him. He has a nice, ruggedly handsome face. The salt and pepper thing works well for him. There is something very blue collar about him. Dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and some work boots he looks very comfortable in this world. This is a man who I would never have a chance at except under these circumstances.

The hunk of meat this man has to offer me brings a fast smile to my face. It is a beauty – fat, thick and large… at least 8.5”. Our eyes meet. They’re nice. They have a glint and energy to them. I can see the young man within the middle-aged man – it’s in his smile. I take a quick hit of poppers before diving in. With a sharp intake of breath he punctuates the air as I move my lips around the head of his dick. He’s only half hard, but that changes fast. Given the circumstances there is a sense of urgency on both our parts. He reaches down and brushes the crotch of my pants with his hand, but it is a half-hearted gesture; the only dick he’s really interested is his own. A nice set of heavy balls hang beneath. They feel luxurious to the touch and I take my usual joy in stretching and playing with them. It doesn’t take long. He shoots, he scores.
The experience leaves us both smiling broadly. He gives me a shy “Thanks.” I tell him, “Anytime.” This seems to please him and another tiny, gruff laugh fills the air.

Waiting until he reaches his truck, I catch my breath. The sunshine hits my face as I open the port-a-potty door. It feels so good. My new friend has climbed into the cab of his truck as I reach the door of my car. He gives me a ‘thumbs up’ as he drives away. In my heart I’m hoping to see more of him, but, in all likelihood that will not happen. He’s not the type that hangs around parks like this in the hope of meeting up with someone like me. But one can hope.

In the car, I gargle, clean my face with a sanitizing wipe; doing what I can to minimize risk. It also gives me a clean slate for my next conquest. Not sure what it is – the sun? Maybe my recent plethora of less than satisfactory sexual unions? But I am definitely in the mood for more. There’s something in the air, too, and I suspect there may be more to be had out there.

Soon the lot fills up with a bunch of the regulars, guys who I have no interest in playing with, so I decide to pull up stakes and move on. I drive about fifteen minutes away to another park. Here, the winter has also had some effect. The city has chosen to only plow two of the available four lots, but that’s okay, as these lots are quite large and far apart. It should be noted that with all the cross country skiers about there is little privacy to be found, which is a bummer and makes the whole cruising thing a little more risky. I pull into the first lot I come upon and take note of a black SUV that has backed into a space closest to the entrance drive. Deciding that it looks promising, I pull in next to it.

In the cab of the SUV is a black man; nice, full, smooth lips, sporting a bald dome. He pays me scant attention as he’s on his cell phone. I decide two can play that game. This has become my favorite ruse in order to waste time, remove suspicion or ignore another cruiser. Yes, it is a pet peeve of mine when others do it to me, but then maybe I am just not taking the hint. I pretend to talk on my cell, glancing over to my left to see if I can catch the eye of the man sitting in the SUV. His face is quite round and he reminds me of that actor that used to be on ABC’s “The Practice”. I always had the hots for that actor, so I decide to stick with the program and see where this might be heading. My play-dar tells me that I have a shot here.

It isn’t long before I notice that while his right hand is busy holding his phone his left hand appears to be busy holding something else. Or maybe I should say stroking something else. Finally I catch his eyes and I give him my most slyly informed smile, letting him know that I know exactly what’s up. He grins back, finishes up his phone conversation as I end my phony phone conversation. During this time, a few cars have filtered in and out of the lot, basically looking for the same thing I am. They’re a lot older and not of much interest to me. Fortunately they don’t stick around. As timing would have it, yet again, the lot is empty except for one other vehicle which is empty – no doubt a cross country enthusiast off on one of the trails. I nod my head and get an affirmative nod from my new found friend. He indicates that I should join him in his vehicle and I do post haste.

As I climb into the passenger side of the front seat, my eyes immediately are captivated by the rather large pole this man is holding in his left hand. He has discreetly covered it with the cloth of his sweater vest, but it leaves no question as to what throbs beneath. I want to get my hands on it as quickly as possible, but he is in the mood for a bit of small talk, which I oblige. Then he unveils his beauty… super thick and at least 8.5”. I am thinking: this is really my lucky day; two nice ones in a row! Glad I left that other park when I did. A quick sniff of poppers later that fuck stick is sliding down my throat with ease. This guy is very verbal, encouraging and complimenting my every move. His voice is soft and deep. He asks to see my di
ck and I oblige by pulling my pants down to my ankles. I work my dick for him a bit, getting it semi-hard – I’m kind of nervous. The risk of discovery is omnipresent, but I love being so exposed. As I play with my cock, he slides his pants down a bit to expose his balls. They look lovely as hell and in short order I’m back to work trying to coax a load out of that big fat dick of his. With my other hand I cradle and play with his balls. He likes what I’m doing, and hasn’t the slightest edge of urgency. Personally, in this type of situation I like to get in and get off as quickly as possible. These places are known as gay cruising areas and the cops have a tendency to show up to the party uninvited.

A man I’ve seen around before drives in. He’s older with a goatee and normally I don’t give him the time of day, but my new found friend gives him the nod and over he sails. He stands outside the driver’s side and watches as I work that big knob with my mouth. On occasion the guy with the goatee reaches in and plays with the SUV driver’s nuts and shaft, but, so far, that is the extent of his involvement. A few more cars come driving in and this seems to make the driver of the SUV a little uneasy. He suggests we follow him to another park where there are less people. I don’t say anything. If I had my druthers I’d rather get him off right there and then and be done with it, but I can see his point; why risk exposure – which we have thus far, being so out in the open and having spent as long as we have playing.

Both I and the guy with the goatee follow the other dude to this park, about five minutes away. I get stuck in traffic a bit, so they arrive before I do. When I arrive the SUV is parked facing out with a tall snow drift running behind it, masking it from the rest of the park. I do my best surveillance sweep of the park. Nothing looks out of place, so I’m thinking we’re good to go. The man with the goatee has taken my place in the passenger seat of the SUV, so I’m not sure what exactly I’m expected to do. The driver of the SUV gets out and walks around to the passenger side of the vehicle, motioning for me to follow. Like the dutiful little cocksucker I am, I do. The car belonging to the guy with the goatee is parked on the passenger side of the SUV and once I am standing between the cars, the driver of the SUV opens the passenger door, shielding us from view; with the tall snow drift behind us, vehicles on either side of us and the passenger door now open.

The guy with the goatee sitting in the passenger seat has his 7”, uncut dick out, with his pants down to his ankles. Apparently he does not share my interest in cock sucking, but wouldn’t mind if I worked some magic on his gob stopper. The driver of the SUV opens the front of his jeans, exposing his monster cock to the elements. No question which dick gets my attention. Crouching down between the vehicles, I take a quick hit of poppers and start worshipping that big black cock. Surprisingly, the driver of the SUV is a lot taller than I expected and my hands waste no time exploring his chest and stomach. He’s enjoying what I’m doing, while keeping on eye on the progress the dude with the goatee is making with his own dick. Apparently the guy with the goatee is about to cum and the driver of the SUV orders me to suck it and take that load. I do as I’m told, but only because I really want the SUV driver’s load. As I’m swallowing the guy in the passenger seat’s load, the driver of the SUV is jerking his dick. Finished with the guy with the goatee, I turn to get back to work on that big black monster, only to find that he’s about to shoot his load. With me tugging on his nut sack, he gives me a nice hot facial. Once he’s done, I take the time to lick on his knob a bit; just my way of saying good-bye. They both pull up, zip up and buckle up as we make some small talk about doing it again some time. Then we all go our separate ways.

I decide to head back to the other park, the one where I picked up the guy in the black SUV. As I pull up there is another black SUV and I’m thinking maybe lightening will strike twice, but no go. It’s a very handsome, black-haired business man with serious facial hair and an even more serious glower talking on his cell phone. He ends his call and leaves without making eye contact with me once. The next driver who pulls up beside me is this very strange and very old courier dude. I take out my cell phone and give him the back of my head until he drives off. I’m thinking about bagging it when pulling up on my right is a dude I have played with before. He’s a foul-mouthed, furry top, who has used my ass as often as he has used my mouth. A bit older than me and a bit out of shape, he’s a lot of fun and I decide to go for it. Thing is, we’ve never played in his vehicle. He usually insists on playing outside. Now the day is nice, the sun is out, but it is not nearly warm enough for that kind of bare ass fun. I tell him to follow me, and lead him to the park where I just blew those last two guys.

I pull into the lot just as another vehicle is leaving. With no one else in sight, I figure we should be good to go. Climbing into the passenger seat of his car, I feel quite secure; in fact we both feel secure enough to get pretty damn-near naked. The windows steam up fast as he spanks my ass as I blow him. He’s got a reasonable 7” cut cock which I know my way around. Poppers are handed back and forth and after a bit of labor on my part he gets his cookies and then, working my own, so do I. We get our clothes back on and I exit his car quickly. Just as quickly, he’s driving off into memory.

It’s a rather unremarkable end to a very rare day: four in one!

Do I feel like a slut? You bet. Ashamed? Not really. Sometimes I fantasize that I am a prostitute, even th
ough I am way too old and ugly for anyone to actually pay me for my services. Still – these men, they are my johns and when I happen on these kinds of opportunities I feel obliged to get busy. Even though my days of doing a mercy suck are over, I still like to think that what I do is a form of community service – volunteering for a greater cause. And if everything seems cool and I can find something to groove on about a guy, I’ll go for it with a pure sense of duty. Yes, I bring a whole new meaning to the term serviceman.

And with spring and summer coming? Oh, my – something tells me I will be putting in some long ass shifts – maybe even pulling the occasional double! Just the thought of me running it up (and down) some guy’s flag pole has got me standing at attention and saluting.

At ease, soldier! Keep in mind that there’s a lot of snow that has to disappear first.

Friday, March 05, 2010

Kristine W Scores Another #1 Dance Hit, Her 15th to Date!

This week, Kristine W scored her 15th #1 on Billboard's Dance/Club Play Songs Chart. Her latest single, "The Power of Music" ascended 2-1, having achieved this feat in a mere 7 weeks. The Dance/Club Play Songs Chart has been in action since 1974, and as of now, based on Billboard Magazine’s records, she’s tied with Mariah Carey for third place as the artist having the most #1’s. Madonna, with a whopping 40 hits on this chart, holds first place, with Janet Jackson coming in second with a total of 19.

It should be noted that the Dance/Club Play Songs Chart is rather unique, as it is determined by club DJs each week and not based on sales or airplay. Critics see this as an unreliable method for ranking the popularity of a given dance song and, if you remember the payola scandals that resulted in rigged charts during the early days of rock and roll, they may have a point. However, there is no reason to believe that anything untoward is going on in the world of dance – at least not regarding this chart. However, if you look at it another way, the chart and its method of determining who’s on top makes perfect sense. Clubland is the heart of what dance is all about. It is ground zero. The DJs know what’s hot and what’s trash bin fodder. No, it’s not like the other charts, but then, why does it need to be? Keep in mind that no other music has the kind of outlet that dance does – the dance floor. It is totally unique. How do you measure that? You rely on the people who rule it and please remember that - to borrow a line from P!nk – God Is a DJ! The fact that dance music has survived and evolved for as long as it has demonstrates its power as an art form. Surviving the disco back-lash of the late 70’s was no small feat, but such wide spread mainstream disdain is exactly the reason the concept of Clubland came into being. It’s a fascinating, somewhat insular, fringe-world with a history unlike anything in popular music.

There is an excellent interview with Kristine on Billboard Magazine’s website, which can be found here:

So be sure to check it out.

And here is a link to her official website, featuring lots of photos, news, videos and music:

I guess the video and single for “Power of Music” is getting a lot of attention overseas, so here is hoping that Kristine gets to enjoy a more mainstream success.

In 1994 "Feel What You Want", Kristine’s first hit, climbed to the summit of Billboard's Dance/Club Play Songs Chart. Of her 16 chart entries, only 2006's "I'll Be Your Light" fell short, peaking at #2. That ended a string of nine consecutive #1’s, which currently qualifies her as the dance artist having the most consecutive hits. "The Power of Music" marks her sixth consecutive No. 1 since that time and only time will tell if she will beat her own record. For the decade of 2000-2010, Kristine came in third place, behind Beyonce and Madonna as Best of 2000’s Dance/Club Play Artists. Not bad company, huh?

Here’s a list of all of Kristine’s hits:

1994 - Feel What You Want
1996 - One More Try
1997 - Land of the Living
2000 - Stronger
2001 - Lovin' You
2003 - Some Lovin' - Murk vs. Kristine W
2003 - Fly Again
2004 - Save My Soul
2005 - The Wonder of It All
2006 - I'll Be Your Light
2007 - Walk Away - Tony Moran feat. Kristine W
2008 - The Boss
2008- Never
2009 - Love Is the Look
2009 - Be Alright
2010 - The Power of Music

I’m kind of a Billboard Magazine chart freak. I love this type of trivia, so thank you for putting up with me as I indulge in yet another of my passions.

Have a great weekend!

And congrats to Kristine W.