A Memorable Memorial (Weekend) !

I’m so happy. My hole is back in business.

Giving it the time it needed really paid off. I think it is now better than ever.

The whole ‘less is more’ thing should become my mantra. I simply don’t have the energy, time or stamina needed to be a super slut. I will just have to settle for being a regular slut.

Memorial Weekend proved to be a return to form for me (which just goes to support my theory about everything being temporary). Of course, the surprising thing was that it was a return to familiar grounds that really tripped my trigger. I played with three guys – all of them repeat customers. One I had not seen for six years, one I had not seen in a year and one I had not seen for six months. I just happened into it. Each tryst was nothing I had to work hard at to arrange.

On Friday, I took a walk in the woods and wasn’t having any luck. I got hit on by a couple of guys – one whom actually sat naked on a rock pulling on his cock and telling me to ‘get over here and suck my dick, boy’. Normally, I’d be all over that, but this guys body was saggy and something told me I could do better. I wasn’t into any of the guys I saw and felt I should just keep walking rather than compromise. So I went and sat in the middle of this prairie area, and reminisced about all the incredible sights and experiences I had in that area. Due to current renovations the park is undergoing some major changes are being made. So those carefree days of boys in the trees are all but over for that area.

I was about to leave, when I spied a man on a bike headed toward this one area that is THE area to stand if you’re looking for a little something/something. I headed over to check him out. He was short and bald, with a good strong chin. His body was a bit stocky, but I liked his smile. And then I remembered where I knew him from. He had come over to my house to work out with me and take pictures. He has a very public job and was a bit on the down low, so I was surprised to see him in this setting, but hey – everything changes. I’m not sure he recognized me - not that it mattered to me.

He made a move for my crotch and soon we were deep kissing one another. It was way hot. And then I saw his dick. It is a big fatty, very pretty, very pink. After being walked up on by one of the guys I had declined earlier, I suggested that we head further back into the woods. I grabbed this large towel that someone had left in one of the sunning alcoves and dragged it along. We went to this spot I like near the mountain bike paths, but still sheltered enough so that passing bikers can’t see you. I laid down the towel and dropped my shorts. His mouth was on my dick in a matter of moments. I had poppers and supplies with me, but decided to hold off on the poppers, because I didn’t want to compromise my ability to hold my load. He was a pretty good cocksucker and had me as hard as a rock. I pulled out and crouched down so we could kiss more. He began to remove his clothing – he was wearing bike shorts and one of those lycra bike tops with the zipper in the front. Our mouths began to move over each other’s bodies, until we managed to get ourselves into a 69 position. His dick never seemed to get fully hard, but it was such a thick one that I was cool with it.

He then had me sit on his face… man could he eat ass! It felt incredible. At this point, due to the condition of his dick, I was pretty sure that fucking was off the table, in spite of the fact that he asked me if I had lube and condoms and then congratulated me on being such a good boy scout (always prepared). So at this point I hauled out the poppers. He took a couple of hits, too and it was way fun, crouching over his face, having my ass expertly eaten as men on mountain bikes whirled past us just a few yards away.

We returned to our knees again, facing each other, macking on each other mightily. I was jacking his dick, and it actually started to get rock hard, when he pushed away my hand and asked me to cum on him. I love the splatter effect of cum hitting a dude in the face and on the chest, so I was cool with doing that. Besides, I had not cum in 10 days, which is like an eternity for me. So as my climax approached, I stood over his kneeling body and blasted a huge load all over him. He reveled in it and as a finishing touch I crouched down and wacked my spent dick on his cum covered chest a few times. I don’t think he came, but at that point I didn’t care. We had both had a great time getting naked outdoors. We cleaned up, dressed and went our separate ways. I noticed then, that a cute Hispanic guy had been watching us. After the other guy went to get his bike, the Hispanic dude definitely wanted a go at me, but since I’d already cum, I thought I should just thank my stars and not be a pig about it.

Saturday, I was busy with family stuff all day. When I got home in the late afternoon, I had a few hours to kill before I had to be somewhere at 6:00 pm. I got on-line, but was not having any success. I wasn’t seeing anyone I knew or that I was interested in and the only ones hitting on my profile were guys I had no interest in (sometimes it’s a vibe thing). I was just about to sign off, when I refreshed my browser and there appeared a guy that I have played with on and off for the past five years. I hadn’t played with him for over a year and I decided to contact him. After just three exchanges we had set up a time and place to meet. I was excited, because I hadn’t been fucked in ages and I knew that he would definitely be up for doing that.

I set it up at this house I am currently rehabbing. I left the gate and front door unlocked and told him to just walk in and find me. I raced over to the house, stripped, got my supplies set up and then peaked through the blinds to see when his car pulled up. Once his car came to view I got on all fours with my ass pointed toward the door and put a blindfold on. He loved it.

This guy is a cute black bear. Very sweet, with pretty eyes, a nice furry chest, a great mouth and a nice sized dick. When we get together I usually get a little carried away with the poppers, but I was really restrained this time and only used them when he first entered me.

He walked in and immediately took off his clothes. He then kneeled behind me and placed the head of his dick on my hole. OMG. That felt incredible. His touch was very firm, but gentle. Then he toyed some more with my hole using both the head of his dick and his fingers. Finally I leaned back, turned my head and he kissed me. I had forgotten what a good kisser he is. Whenever we’re together it is always very good. We seem to be in sync with one another from the word go. The blindfold just seemed to heighten everything – my sense of touch and smell and taste, plus it had made the anticipation of his arrival absolutely heart-racing. I sucked on him, he sucked on me. Then, in the middle of a passionate kiss, I took off the blindfold. We melted into each other. He slipped on a magnum condom and took my ass slowly. It was a great fuck. I felt full and used and well, loved. When he first entered me doggy style, my dick got rock – rock hard. I was amazed and after about five minutes he had me on the edge of coming without touching myself. I eased off him and took a little break, kissing him the entire time. We changed positions. I loved looking into his eyes as I lay on my back with him pounding into me. Then we changed positions again with me riding on top of him. At this point he took a couple of hits of poppers – which always does it for me. I just love a top who takes a hit – the sound is so sexy. He stayed in me long after he came. And then kissed me and played with my balls until I shot my load. We continued to kiss for some time and then began small talk. He is so sweet.

Sunday, I got on the net in the morning for a couple of hours. Nothing was happening, which was fine, as I had a pre-arranged fuck date in the afternoon. I was going out to the country to this farm and we were going to fuck naked in the woods.



This guy is a real salt and pepper cutie: great fur, okay dick, nice body. I love his smile, his sense of adventure and his sense of humor. I arrived and we walked out to the woods together. He had pre-selected a spot and had laid out an open sleeping bag for our comfort. It was fine. He is a really nice guy, but I have to say that he is not the most relaxed kisser and the sex itself is always a bit of a struggle.

He really likes frottage, which I am cool with, but he likes to use a lot of lube, which for some reason puts me on the edge way too much. He also kind of wears me out. Whenever we complete a session I feel like I have just been beat up. He also can’t give a blow job worth shit – too much teeth – which really irritates my dick to the point where I just don’t enjoy it. But he does throw a smooth fuck. He loves to mash me face down and work his way on top of me. It feels great, but I think all that force, discomfort and odd friction robs me of my stamina.

The mosquitoes were bad, so that may have also impacted my enjoyment of the whole thing. He also doesn’t believe in fucking around standing up… always in the horizontal, which really gets old fast and limits what you can do. In any event, I had a good time. We both came and then walked back to the main house naked. He had guy working on the roof of the main house and we walked right under his gaze buck naked. We showered and after more small talk, I left. It was a nice afternoon.

Bottom line, it was a good weekend. I took Monday off from fucking, because my hole was just getting used to it again and I didn’t want to risk wearing it out. It looks better than ever and is behaving totally normally now. I am so relieved. I am not getting fucked without a condom ever again. That HPV stuff is scary stuff. I mean, I know we all have it in our systems (any sexually active individual – whether they have butt sex or not carries it)… but this is just another selling point for condoms – which I have really come to respect and enjoy. And as I’ve noted here before – they also make for easy clean up.

All-in-all, not a bad return to form; Memorial weekend was indeed memorable. It’s so nice to be back in the saddle again. I promise not to take my hole for granted and will be more choosey about my partners in the future.

More to cum… hopefully.

Summer Hummers

Summer is here, at last. I’m so excited. Warmer weather means more time outdoors wearing less clothing. Warmer weather means hikes in the woods with the possibility of a little something-something taking place in the bushes. The warmer the weather, the more things are sprouting, budding and leafing out. This translates to a more relaxed attitude by cruisers in general – meaning – you’re more likely to see skittish guys showing dick.

I was thinking this was going to be the summer of me taking a lot of dick up the ass, but the fates have put that whole plan on hold, for the time being. I’m just not feeling it, either. So I will have to make up for it by spending some time on my knees. Something I find just as enjoyable, except…

I’ve rather had a change of heart about the whole mercy fuck thing. I used to be certain that you had to pleasure those you didn’t find all that attractive in order to occasionally snack on someone that was out of your league. I believe it is the plethora of less than attractive guys offering up their noodle these days that has me looking at my options and frequently just opting out.

Maybe less is more. Not true, not true, says the whore in me. But what about choosing quality over quantity? The problem? Frequency. It’s just not very often that I stumble upon someone who blows my circuits who also happens to be into me. How do I know this? Well, since April 16th, 2009, I have been keeping a sex diary.

Here are my stats from 3/16/08 to 5/16/09:

45 Events
39 Guys

New Comers: 30
Repeat Business: 9

Activities:
JO only: 2
Fondle only: 4
Kissing: 4
Oral only: 20
Oral and Anal: 10
Me as Top: 3
Me as Sucked: 2
Mercy Fucks (oral only): 8

Anon/Blindfolded Walk-In Scene: 6
Outdoors: 32

Quality:
Exceptional: 3
Okay: 28
Bad: 8

I could break it down more for you, but I’m not in the mood. Out of those 45 events I only performed badly once (came too soon and the guy was a real jerk about it). The anal count would have been considerably higher, but in the first week of April I had an anal endoscopy and they took some biopsies. Boy, that really slowed me down. I was shut down completely for two weeks and then performed only oral after that. I even began to top on occasion or be the suckee. I’m not sure when I’ll return to full capacity. Possibly never. I was doing this really incredible scene at this house I’m currently rehabbing. Place a personals ad on occasion. I get a good number of responses. Of those, only a small percentage of those are suitable. Only a smaller percentage of those ‘get it’ – as in they dig the whole idea. The scene goes like this:

We agree on a time. You come to this house I’m rehabbing. The house is empty, no furniture. The front door will be unlocked. You enter and choose the door I am behind. There will be a blanket on the floor. I will be on it, on all fours with my ass up in the air. My ass is lubed and clean. There will be lube, condoms and wet wipes. The room is darkened via shades. I would have a blindfold on. You would remain anonymous (your call – you may also remove it at anytime during the course of play). You walk over to my raised ass and touch my hole gently. I take a hit of poppers (happy to share). You then move around to the front of me and guide your dick into my mouth. I take you deep, until you’re rock hard. You make me lick your balls, your armpits, suck on your nips... it’s all your call, your pleasure. Open to kissing as well. When you’re ready, you return to my ass. I take another hit of poppers and, after entering slowly and then building up momentum, you plow my ass big time -slamming into me until your juices burst. Use condoms. Makes for easy clean up. When you’re done, you wipe your dick on the towel provided, use a wet wipe, get up and leave.

I would love to go back ‘to work’, but I’m a bit gun shy. The first time I tried to get back into the saddle a portion of my hole puffed up like a car air bag. Not pretty. Or comfortable. So there it is. The ugly truth.

Needless to say, I have just not been that into sex recently. I worry. About my hole. About STD’s. I have come to the conclusion that poppers are only good you’re bottoming or giving oral where reciprocation is not on the table. Poppers make you come to quick. I’ve finally woken up to this fact.

So, basically… I’m depressed. I want to get big time fucked. But I’m afraid. I don’t want a puffed up hole. I don’t think any top would either.

So are my days as a whore numbered?

Well, of course they are… but am I all washed up – as of now?

Tune in tomorrow.

Sodomy in Glamora: The Seven Layers of Gay Sex

I was thinking about different ways of presenting what I consider the various levels of gay sexual activity. Initially, I was going to do an org chart, but that wouldn't make any sense. So I think I will present it as layers – you know, like the seven layers of hell? Perhaps the term tiers would be a better choice. I want to be able to present this without passing too much judgment on any of it. That’s impossible for me, because I have an opinion about everything and I realize this whole list is quite subjective and, in fact, contains nothing but my opinion. So you've been warned.

Also keep in mind: one person’s hell is another person’s heaven. So while I present these tiers in a certain order, for some, this list only make sense if it is reversed. Or perhaps viewed as something like the Kinsey scale. That said I place no special preference or status on any of these levels. I personally jump between most of them all the time. I will attempt to point out the pros and cons of each type/tier.

So here is my take on the various tiers of gay sexual activity:

Tier One: Monogamous Couple Sex

This is an attempt on the part of gays to mirror their heterosexual counterparts. Society in general is suspicious of single people, be they straight or gay. After a certain age, if you have not coupled-up, the general population tends to view you as if there is something wrong with you. With that in mind, most people cave into the pressure and make some type of commitment to another person. Sometimes this arrangement is one of convenience, financial benefit/need, and/or emotional dependency. Then there are those who are in it for love. There are all kinds of love. I have to remind myself of this almost every day as I come into contact with couples whose existence flies in the face of common sense or decorum. I always seem to form an opinion about their coupling before reminding myself that I should not judge. When it comes to love, I cut everybody some slack. The eyes of the beholder are the only eyes that truly matter. If they can put up with the object of their affection for life, then I should be able to put up with them being together.

We all know our share of toxic gay couples; people who seem to thrive on violence, drama, and co-dependency - the George and Martha's of many a gay social gathering. The same is true for their hetro counterparts, but there are also some very healthy gay relationships. And even those that seem rather questionable at times have their healthy bits buried in there among the credit card debt, white party indiscretions and lapses in good judgment.

In a healthy pairing, the sex can be quite good. It can continue to grow and change as the couple develops as individuals. Unfortunately, that is not the norm. The number four reason that gay couples break up is due to bad sex (money issues being number two, chemical/alcohol dependency number three and infidelity being number one). Frequently, the sex simply becomes monotonous. This is due to a lack of creativity and concerted effort on the part of both partners. Only if it is an issue for one or both will it become an issue that needs to be resolved. Some people take comfort in the familiar – in fact some find it intoxicating. However, it sometimes leads to infidelity. Sometimes relationships are strong enough to survive infidelity and sometimes it is enough to put an end to co-habitation (it depends on the rules established by the couple). Then there are those who wallow in the misery of a dysfunctional sexual relationship – that is frequently where the above mentioned toxic couples originate.

Some couples enter into relationships knowing that the sex is no good. They make their peace with it because there are other factors that more than compensate for its absence. These couples tend to consist of two people with very different sex drives, two people whose tastes in sex differ radically, or two people for whom sex holds little interest. In cases where there is a difference of tastes and/or drives, these relationships sometimes become open relationships - which brings us to our next level.

Tier Two: The Open Relationship

Open relationships simply allow couples to play sexually with other people outside the confines of their relationship without threatening the primary relationship. Sometimes that means that couples play together by bringing in a third. Sometimes they agree to play separately. Sometimes they share information about these trysts, while still other couples operate under the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ kind of rule.

And therein lays the secret to a successful open relationship: establishing the rules. Without well established rules, feelings get hurt and once feelings are hurt a relationship is headed for some pretty choppy waters. Successful couples in open relationships not only establish the rules, they check in periodically with their partners in order to make sure that everything is 'okay'. This may result in a change in the rules or a temporary closure of the relationship.

To make the open relationship work in the long haul, both members need to operate with a level of emotional maturity and openness.

That is why there are so few successful gay open relationships. No, I’m afraid the most common type of monogamous gay male in a relationship is:

Tier Three: The Serial Monogamous

These are the guys that fall in love – all the time. At the drop of the hat. They tell you they feel like they’ve known you forever. They want to begin a new life with you. They are a bit obsessed with you and while it worries you, you want to be in love, so you ignore that little voice inside your head and go with your heart. You have lots of sex – initially.
Then you move in together and everything changes. Suddenly you’re needy. You’re smothering them. There’s no room for their shit. Suddenly – you’re not the man they fell in love with.

Now granted, there are people who let themselves’ go, physically, at the first sign of a possible committed relationship. There also people who do, indeed, change in some manner shortly after a commitment has been made and the CD collections are resting side by side on the bookshelf for a legitimate reason (new career, death of a loved one, etc.) But, generally, if you are experiencing the above scenario in the first few months of living together, you, my friend, have hooked-up with a serial monogamist.

The relationship will last for about two years (it will feel like ten). There will be all sorts of surprises. All sorts of tiny facts and personal habits will be revealed, but only after you’ve surrendered the lease on your rent control apartment and hauled you beloved toy poodle halfway across town to set up shop with your current preoccupation.

Most lesbians, by the way, are serial monogamists. That is until they reach an age where they are too tired and lazy to contemplate loading up the old U-Haul for yet another new lover. Then they just make do and stay put. By that point the value of the companionship far outweighs the need for sex... although keep in mind that there are a lot of very sexually active lesbians over the age of 65.The gay male equivalent simply eventually becomes so self-involved that there is no room for anyone else in their life. This doesn’t stop from them confusing lust with love, but it generally helps the other party identify reasons to keep them at arms length and thus, prevents the serial monogamist from getting keys to your apartment.
The serial monogamist’s behavior is a result of immaturity. In the event that the serial monogamist does grow up, he will either become part of a monogamous couple or morph into…

Tier Four - Happy Single Guy

These guys are actually pretty healthy. They have their priorities straight, financially and emotionally are able to support themselves and are very comfortable in their own skin. They take good care of themselves. They spend time at the gym - where they actually go to work out, but not too much time (they are not gym bunnies).

They also have no interest in taking care of anyone else. None. Your needs are your business, not theirs. Nor do they want a relationship. They are happy just as they are… with their life as it is.

Sex and bed partners are something to be enjoyed, but not obsessed about. It is like those homos who tell you that they are gay, but being gay is only part of their life – not their entire life - (whatever that means).

When you meet the happy single guy, you will fall in love. They seem so together. You just want to bask in their glow and soak up as much of their confidence as you can. They won’t let you. They are only interested in guys like themselves. Life is easier that way. They are not shy about sharing their need for a no-strings kind of thing - they put it out there right up front. If you’re smart, you’ll listen and enjoy them for what they are – keep in mind, independence is an aphrodisiac.

Now, the happy single guy only exists as long as there isn't any overriding neurosis thrown into the mix. In the event that there is a significant life change (a career change, turning 40, a back injury that prevents you from going to the gym), the happy single can morph into any one of the above or those below, such as…

Tier Five - The Secret Slut

I love the Secret Slut. There is one in every person I’ve ever met… and liked. Basically, this is where your kink lives and breathes. Without kink we would all be hopelessly boring. There would be no art in the world. I include those Robert Kincaid type paintings in my definition of art, simply because they are so perverse, they must be the product of a really, really sick, underlying kink. But I digress.

Am I saying Robert Kincaid is a secret slut? Eh. Who knows? Who cares? Those paintings are perverse.

Where was I? Oh, yes... I am saying that kink leads to creativity. Now one of the most creative things we all do on a regular basis is lie. And if you are a secret slut, then this is one creative writing exercise you have mastered like spreading lube on an exposed asshole.

The secret slut will do almost anything (and anyone) – once. They fear being pigeon-holed (but not being corn-holed). They don’t like labels. They don’t like scenes. They still want the right to reclaim their virginity (if it will help their chances of getting laid).

The secret slut spends almost as much time covering up the sex he is having as having actual sex. Therefore, he has no time for anything else. His few close friends are all former sexual partners and they only understand too well that an internet hook-up takes precedence over taking said friend to the emergency room or attending said friends funeral… especially if said hook-up involves an activity that the secret slut has never participated in before.

Secret sluts are really fun people to be around, partially because they constantly throw you off guard and partially because they enjoy nurturing the secret slut in you.

Secret sluts are always ready for anything: they have spare clothing in the trunk of their cars – usually a pair of form hugging jeans, a t-shirt, a jock strap, some hiking boots, tennis shoes, changes of underwear and socks. You know, just in case they feel like traipsing off into the woods for a little something-something. Their brief cases have secret pockets filled with necessities like lube, poppers, condoms, a blindfold, a change of underwear, assorted cock-rings, a douching bottle, etc.

Why? Because you never know. You see, lying and sex are not the only things a secret slut is good at – they also know how to take advantage of an opportunity.

Discretion is key to being a successful secret slut. They never kiss and tell… and if they do dish, they never share names – although they may point you out to their friends at a crowded bar as someone they did it with.

Of course, there comes a point when the secret slut is so consumed by their pursuit of sex that they simply become a common, ordinary…
Tier Six: Slut
We all know these guys. They’re the mainstays on Craigslist, GayDotCom, Squirt, ManHunt, and Adam4Adam. They are legends – at least in their own minds. Maybe their best days are behind them, maybe their best days were in their behind. Maybe its time they retire those same tired pics and post some new ones - you know, pics that actually capture how their body looks now, as opposed to ten years ago.

The nice thing is, they admit they’re sluts, so they usually have a sense of humor about the whole thing. Well, most things.

You could do a lot worse than landing in bed with a real slut. Real sluts are experienced. They have been there, done that. Sluts will have sex with almost anyone, anywhere. No holds bar. They can flip more ways than an I-Hop Special. Their experience is your gain. They know their communicable diseases and how to prevent/treat them. Unlike the secret slut, the true slut will never give you crabs.

The relaxed atmosphere the slut provides is really helpful when you’re trying to name and explore your own kink. They’re helpful and friendly (and probably a former boy scout or seminary student).

Sluts revel in their slutdom. They flaunt it and embrace it. They don’t kid themselves. They know who and what they are.

Sometimes they are deluded, raging alcoholics. But then again, sometimes we all are.

Sluts aren’t viewed well by the community at large. The greater population tends to believe that sluts taint the image of the homosexual world. That is why there are so many secret sluts (and so many cases of the clap). Sluts get a bad rap. They are just sharing their god-given talents with the rest of us - skills they have worked hard to develop. The world would be filled with virgins if it were not for the audacity of the average slut.

We really should have a hall of fame in honor of them in some small town in one of the Dakotas. Without them, no one for the Dakotas would ever get laid.

This brings us to our final tier. The tier that tiers one through four rarely discuss, and if they do it is either with disdain or in the past tense. Tiers five and six have dallied in tier seven, but have either found it too time/life consuming or they couldn’t afford all the necessary props, accessories and costume pieces.

Tier Seven: Sodomy in Glamora

The following activities/ belong in this category:

Fisting
Shoving things in your urethra
Heavy rope play
Extreme bondage
Tit, Cock and Ball torture
Extreme leather, vinyl, latex, etc.
Slings
Dungeons
Puppy Training
Master/Slave
Extreme Dom/Sub Play
Extreme Humiliation
Extreme Scenes
Extreme Water Sports (invasive)
Extreme Spanking

Notice tier seven concentrates, not on the individual in relationship to society or other individuals, but to activity pools. These activities fall outside the boring norm of most of society. However, they may be practiced in part by members of all the above tiers. In tiers one thru four, the person you are doing them with matters. In tiers five and six, the person you are doing them with has to host and have all the necessary gear.

Tier seven followers are really quite open to all types. They are not body snobs or ageists (generally speaking). Who you really are outside of the confines of the activity is of little importance to a tier seven member. That is why so many people get to wear masks, blindfolds, gas masks and hoods.

Tier seven is Marilyn Chambers in “Behind the Green Door” - super-sized. In this world you get to lose yourself, giving in to your base self. It’s like drowning in a sea of poppers.

There are limits here: my usual no-no’s – no blood, no scat, no kids, no animals. Tier seven members are kinky - they can fetishize just about anything. But there are limits.
Otherwise? Everything goes. I see no shame in any of it. No harm. Keep in mind that it can get very expensive. It frequently becomes a life style rather than activity.

I say: To each their own. It's all good, as long as nobody gets hurt.

Now, I know this is a flawed model. No doubt I will have to tweak it here and there. But that is how I see the world of gay sex. It’s kind of like a Kinsey scale. There is no best choice – they all possess flaws and follies to some degree. No one tier is any better than any of the others. It’s just where you land. Sometimes you land in between tiers, sometimes you're granted duel citizenship.

Me? I’m currently playing on tiers four and five and dancing on the outskirts of seven.
Drowning in a sea of poppers. Hmmmm… well, that says it all doesn’t it? Oh, and do me doggy-style, with me on all fours and with my ass in the air – drowning in a sea of poppers.

Ah yes, there now… that’s the stuff.

Should I Become A Total Slut?

I’m a recovering (recovered) Catholic. That said my guilt index when it comes to sex remains pretty high. I’m not a prude by any means. I try not to judge people or most of what they do. There are, however, some definite no-no’s in my book. They are pretty common sense ones. Bestiality sickens me, as do people who prey on children. Anything that has to do with scat or blood is taboo. There are also things that make me extremely uncomfortable, such as fisting, piercing, inserting things into the urethra, and torture of the nipples or balls. I realize that discomfort is the goal of those activities… but I don’t want anything to do with any of it. Extreme pain is not sexy. Electro-play also makes me cringe a bit.

There are also things that just bug me: like older men (over 35, and especially those over 40) who only want to be with boys under the age of 20. Something about that dynamic creeps me out – probably something to do with the imbalance of power (financial, educational, life experience) implicit in such a relationship. I hate it when people take advantage of other people. It strikes me as just this side of pedophilia. I also have to ‘just say no’ to anything involving pantyhose, women’s panties and bras – especially when worn by a man. It just does nothing for me (but I respect your right to lead your own parade). Also the world of pnp? Uh-uh. Meth makes for bad sex. And there’s enough bad sex in the world without anyone chemically inducing it. Some would consider poppers and 420 as part of the pnp world, but I don’t. I’m okay with poppers and 420 – as long as the sex doesn’t suffer.

But then part of me also says, “to each, their own” - not when it comes to the illegal stuff or the painful and dangerous stuff. But for those of you who adore the look of your pleasure trail leading to something pink and frilly, or those of you who get physically ill over the idea of having sex with someone your own age… hey, whatever floats your boat. Live and let live.

That pretty much sums up my list of “uh-uh’s”.

I do have personal preferences, but nothing I haven’t made exceptions for.

I‘ve had sex with people of every race. I love all the physical differences and the variety of cultural mindsets related to sex – especially man on man sex. When it comes to race, I base my decision to pursue or be pursued solely on whether or not the personality involved is one that trips my trigger. Yes, I’m an equal opportunity enjoyer!

I’ve also been with people of every size – and I’m not talking penis size, although I think I’ve dealt with the full spectrum there, too. As a general rule, obese people do not turn me on. But there have been exceptions. Never underestimate the power of a great smile, a little charm, a good sense of humor, or a double martini. Circumstances and desperation play their part, too, no doubt. The same can be said for the borderline anorexic. No, as a general rule, but there have been some rather sweet exceptions.

And age? Well, as a general rule of thumb I don’t pursue anyone under the age of thirty (I’m too old for you, and you are too inexperienced/unformed/uptight for me) or above the age of sixty (I have had some really bad surprises when opening the mystery date door). But then again there have been some incredible exceptions. And some not so incredible – but I’m flexible and willing to work with what the universe gives me. Good sex is good no matter the package.

I think at this point in my sexual life (having gotten a really late start) I have reached a point where in order to continue expanding my whore-izons (horizons) I must decide once and for all: Should I become a total slut?

I was originally going to title this ‘Should I Become a Slut’… but based on the sheer number of sexual partners I have in had thus far, I’m thinking that the ‘should’ in that query, at this point, is pretty mute. I am a slut. No doubt about it. I don’t wear it as a badge of courage (on occasion I still try to get away with being demure), but when cornered, I don’t deny it, either.

No, the question before me is, should I become a total slut. What, you may ask, is the distinction?

For me – and I realize this is a personal delineation/definition (for some, I have crossed that line, too) – it has to do with a little device called a sling. For those of you who live at church, a sling is a platform, usually made of leather suspended from the ceiling or a metal frame by chains. It serves as the altar of sacrifice (giving it up oh-so willingly) for your average power bottom.

I now consider myself a bottom (not always the case), but I am still not a power bottom. To achieve that distinction I would need to give myself over to a world I am not sure I belong. The whole dungeon scene intrigues me. I have stood on the side lines a few times – but it made me feel like a spectator at a coliseum in ancient Rome. I’m also intrigued by leather, group play (I have never been to a sex party), multiple/multiple partners, bath house and backroom scenes; basically the underbelly of the male gay world.

I need to point out that I don’t mean underbelly in a bad way. There is a hierarchy in the world of m4m sex. The hierarchy of the male gay world (according to me)? That’s another blog entry, maybe next week’s installment. Maybe.

Back to the question of total slutdom: To become a total slut, I would have to immerse myself in a world that frequently involves things that I can’t see myself ever gaining any pleasure from. In fact, the few times I have danced along the edge of the underbelly, I found myself having to say ‘no’ to a lot of things: (“No, you may not stick your fist in my ass. No, you may not strike my ass with that leather riding crop. No, you may not choke me. No, you may not bind my balls and smack them with your hand. No, you may not hit me in the face.”). Okay, so the provided examples may indicate that I may have, in fact, stuck my toe in the water a bit. But you get the general idea of what I fear happening.

I like the idea of the sling. The total surrender it signifies. Being vulnerable is sexually arrousing to me. But the type of activities you open yourself up to in the kind of environment where you would find a sling brings the concept of vulnerability to a whole ‘nother level.

Now you might think it is the psychological impact and subsequent consequences that I am afraid of, but that is not the case. The mind games I can handle. My mind has been fucked (see reference to Catholic Church and the world of the theatre). I have developed a resilience to and the ability to recover from such fuckery. It’s the physical stuff that concerns me. Safety, being of primary concern. I don’t want to end up physically hurt or marred. I also don’t want the clap, crabs or worse.

The other thing that keeps me from delving in? All the props and costumes. I come from theatre (which is what the Catholic mass is really about, people), (I also ‘did’ the theatre/stage/performance thing for – well, a long, long time) – and I hate all that stuff (now). Don’t get me wrong. I love leather. The smell alone is enough to send me to my happy place. I also think at least twenty percent of those who wear it, wear it well. Yes, when it’s hot, it is hot.

But when it’s not? Well, that would be when it feels staged, inappropriate, or just looks tacky (I’m talking to the 80% of you who should NOT wear leather – and yes, I’m probably included in that number). I hate it when accoutrements get in the way of a good time. What I know of theatre, and I mean know the hard way, is that for a show to run smoothly you must coordinate your props well. A bad scene change can cost you your show. Pulling this off (no pun intended) is a learned skill and an innate talent. So, most people are simply not up to the task. Either the emotional/physical involvement of the actual sex takes precedent and things get fucked up, or they are simply inept and too uncoordinated to be successful.

Another thing that makes opening this particular door difficult for me, is the fact that once said door is open, many people don’t have the good sense to know the difference between what is ‘fun’ and what is ‘lame’. I’ll give you an example. I had a guy who wanted to role play. Now, I’m all for role play. I love ‘buddies staying overnight’, ‘coach gives a massage’, ‘coach and OTK’, ‘wrestling buds’, and ‘you’re in the army now-lick my boots scumbag’ scenarios. I’ll even play the whole ‘son/daddy/big brother/little cousin’ thing, as long as it doesn’t become too ridiculous. But this guy? He wants to play ‘good doggie’, and I have to be the dog. It put me off a bit. I had to think about it. I consider the following: I’m there, we’re both already naked and hard, the guy is reasonably attractive and the environment feels safe to me. So I pant for him. I ‘wag my tail’ for him. Then he makes the mistake of bringing out the props. He puts a leather collar and a leash on me. I wore it for about two minutes. Then I took it off myself. End of game. And believe me – I am all for trying new things and pleasing my sex partner. But that leash? Well, that was a span of leather too far. I couldn’t go there, because while certain degrees of humiliation can be very sexually stimulating… feeling totally ridiculous ain’t gonna keep my dick hard.

So there are my concerns. My issues. My sensibilities and take on the choice at hand. I have just enough experience and knowledge to make me leery of the whole thing. Maybe this is one of those instances where I should listen to that little feeling in my gut.

I can remain a generic slut forever. I may have to move to another section of the country or another country in order to find new sexual partners, but I can continue my edgy, dirtier-than-vanilla, somewhat skanky ways for the rest of my time on this earth. Or I could dive in, experience something new and then decide it is not for me.

Doing an about face is not always about admitting defeat. Sometimes it’s just good common sense or done in good taste. For me, there would be no sense of shame. No scarlet ‘A’. You see, sometimes that red badge of courage is just a big old scarlet ‘A’ – but in either case – it’s something earned. I could with that without deluding myself. I’m not one of those who fool enough to think I could be a virgin again.

But then that is what role play is for.

To be honest, I’m riding the fence on this one. At this point, I’m not overly concerned about splinters… but let’s face it – indecision sucks, and also - it’s not the kind of wood I like to have between my legs.