Part 3: Best Made Plans and Bucket Lists

Miraculously, I wake up without the benefit of an alarm clock just a few moments before 6:00 am.  So far, I am averaging four hours a night, sleep-wise.  Contemplating driving five and a half hours on so little sleep gives me pause, but I have a plan laid out and want to try to hit all the items on my list.  Next up: Duluth, MN and The Duluth Family Sauna.  I sip my hotel room coffee as I throw my stuff together, shower and shave, dress, check email, before heading  on out.  I have an ad on Craigslist announcing my arrival in Duluth up and running, but so far have not had anyone that interesting respond.  Uncertain of my prospects, I head down to my car. 

I stow my stuff before hitting the free breakfast buffet.  It is now just a few minutes after 7:00 am, so I am close enough to my planned departure time to grab some grub.  Not much to pick from (there never is), but I snag two bananas, an apple, and a cinnamon bun sealed in plastic.  I consider taking a yogurt, but it has a chemical in it that I refuse to ingest.  Instead, I grab three peeled, hard-boiled eggs and down them quickly - great source of protein -and then hit the road. 

The drive is pretty basic and goes by quickly.  I find myself in a weird kind of daze where I suspect I may have on occasion shut my eyes for too long a time and possibly dropped off into sleep, but pull myself out of it in a flash.  After that, my adrenalin kicks in, I crank up the tunes, and start talking to myself out loud.   The weather is hella crazy.  One moment, blue skies and brilliant sun, the next: cloudy/foggy, the next: slushy/ucky, and the next: snow flurries/whiteout.  This weather pattern repeats itself three times before I reach Superior, a town that I hope there is more to than what I saw, because it was kind of bleak.   My GPS guides me to downtown Duluth easily and I snag a free parking spot outside the Sauna, as planned.

I have been to the Sauna before, but never had the opportunity to stay overnight there.  Thinking I would be sleeping on one of the beds in the basement, I sign on for the overnight package, a real bargain at $32.00; especially considering it includes come-and-go privileges and a free parking space.  I sign in, and then grab the gear I believe I’ll need.  Storing it all in my locked locker in the basement before heading out for some food, I hit the Coney Island, where I have a chicken salad sandwich with fries.  For some reason, I don’t find the place as charming as the last time I ate there, so I eat quickly and head back to the Sauna. 

I strip, grab my baby oil, and hit the showers.  There are about six guys milling about.  Two of them greet me right away.  I am polite, but bone tired.  At this point all I want to do is shower and then find a room in which to grab a couple hours of rest.  I coat my body with baby oil and then rinse off.  Patting myself dry, one of the dudes swings by and tells me that whatever I am doing, it sure smells good.  I smile.  Heading back to my locker, I decide to douche my ass quickly, because… hey, you never know, right? When in Rome, be prepared to be Roman.  That done, I grab my towel and seek out the tiniest bedroom, near the back of the floor.  As I pass through the television room, I see they have purchased a new flat screen T.V.  It looks nice.  Other than that – nothing has changed.  Same dingy walls.  Same beds covered in polyester fabric.  Same furniture.

The room I had in mind is empty.  I check the cover on the bed; it’s dry and I assume (and hope) that no one has been fucking on top of it, yet.  Lying down, I close my eyes and appreciate the darkness and the warmth.  Using the towel to cover the pillow, I drift into that state of sleep I refer to as ‘skimming’, where I am aware of my surroundings, and my brain is active, but my body is relaxed.  I get to enjoy this for about five minutes before one of the dudes who greeted me so nicely earlier opens the door and says hello.  I respond in kind and he begins to enter the room and remove his towel.  Okay, this is what I had in mind, but not what I have in mind.  I tell him I’m not up for playing and that I need to get some sleep.  He backs out of the room and I close the door.   As I do, I wonder: what part of a closed door makes someone think:  ‘Hey, I bet that dude would like me to pop in and suck his dick?’  When I come upon a closed door in this kind of environment I assume that it is closed for a reason and I should respect that.  Wanting to ensure that my rest is not interrupted again, I barricade the door, using the night stand and pushing the end of my bed up against it.  And it’s a good thing I do, because ten minutes later, just as I am drifting off, someone else is rattling that door knob and not taking the hint.

I sleep, I think.  Not sure.  But after an hour, I get up, brush my teeth, gargle, douche.  The dude who walked into my room earlier asks me if I have an ad on Craigslist.  I cop to that and realize he is one of the few that responded.  He sent me a body pic.  I look him over.  Something’s not right; one of these things does not match the other.  He introduces himself as “Dewey”.  He’s short, with a full head of auburn brown, semi-curly locks.  He has a boyish, Irish face, a twinkle in his eyes, and a gift for gab.  Yep, another talker.  It’s alright.  Not the picture he sent me, but passable.  However, I’m still tired, and tell him so before hitting the hay for a second time, after barricading the room.  

I drift off once more only to waken with a start:  I smell smoke.  Bleary-eyed, I push the bed away from the door and move into the hallway.  There is the an obese, pale, bearded man sitting on a futon couch smoking a cigarette, right in front of a sign that says ‘NO SMOKING’.  He’s chatting with the dude I just met named Dewey.  My eyes flash with anger. “Put it out!” I order.  Apparently my bellowing is effective, for he and Dewey scurry off like frightened children.  I return to my room and shut my eyes.  I can still smell the cigarette fumes and it pisses me off to no end.

An hour later, I emerge, fairly refreshed.  It’s now 3:30 pm or so.   Typically, I have real good luck at the Sauna.  Maybe a few of them are on the just-okay side of the scale, but I always manage to also find at least one choice bit.  Having never stayed overnight, I have no idea what to expect, but my excitement level and optimism is quite high.  I notice that at this point there are sixteen lockers booked, so I start looking around.  Walking through, I spy a number of just-okay’s; dudes that will do in a pinch if nothing else is available.  In this case they are silver-haired daddy’s whose bodies are a little thick and skin looks like it’s melting a bit.  Okay, I get the whole gravity thing – skin is going to sag: I’m experiencing it myself.  But something about every one of these guys makes me put the brakes on.  Either the energy is wrong, their approach is off, I suspect they have a tiny dick, or… I’m just not feeling like diving in yet.  Hey, I figure, it’s early – something better is bound to appear.

What does appear, by my side, as I sit on that futon couch?  Dewey.  The man comes and chats me up.  He asks a few questions, but mostly he talks about himself and stares at my dick.

Within ten minutes, I know more about Dewey than I ever cared to; trivial stuff, like where he falls in his family, where he was forbidden to go as a child, the history of Duluth,  on, and on.  Blah, blah, blah.  Of course, the entire time he’s talking to me, he’s making no secret about WHY it is he is talking to me.  He wants to get with me.  What Dewey fails to realize is that the longer he talks at me, the more things about him I notice that I do not like.  For instance: his teeth are discolored and weirdly pointed like a rat’s, his body is really thick like a barrel – including his stomach area, which makes him look like a squat doll made out of a toilet paper tube. He stares at my cock the entire time he’s talking to me, and there’s something manic about his personality that makes me horribly uncomfortable.  He has the personality of a cracked-out meth head.   Also, I suspect he’s just a cocksucking bottom, like me, and while I will play with other bottoms on occasion, Dewey will not be one of them.

At this point, I can tell Dewey is about to make his move, so I realize I need to make an excuse and get out from under his avalanche of conversational bullshit.  I tell him I have to go check my phone.  I race to my locker.  It is at this time I make the decision to walk around with a bottle of poppers in my hand – a brand new bottle.  Wanting to avoid Dewey at all costs, I make my way into the actual Sauna.  There is a rather obese, bearded gentlemen in there, who, later during my stay, takes a liking to me and shares with me his personal history at the Sauna, including theme parties they used to have (BDSM, Toy, Watersports) and the layout of the place before five of the bedrooms were added (it used to be one big orgy room). 

There is also the bearded queen who I caught smoking earlier.  He has since apologized and we bond briefly over a documentary about Dick Cheney that we both admire.  He is sitting on the upper deck, inexplicably huffing poppers while playing with his dick.  Two of the silver-haired daddy’s are also present, both trying to ignore the poppers queen.  I walk in and sit and immediately regret it.  How to get out without seeming rude?  I am clueless.  Fortunately, the bearded obese history of the Saunas dude chooses at the time to bring a hose in and spray the place with water.  This creates so much steam that it not only provides me the excuse I need to leave, but neatly covers my exit, as well.

I shower, check out the video room (which has an odd smell), and then return to my locker.  Enter Mr. Wonderful.  He’s hot.  Best thing to walk in there all day; brown hair, stash, 5’10”, in good shape (not worked out, but good shape), late 30’s/early 40’s and handsome.  A bell sounds in my brain and I am thinking – cool, my day at the Sauna begins.   I play it cool.  I say ‘hello’ and then return to the futon to wait, thinking, surely Mr. Wonderful is going to take a walk around before making a choice.  Dewey is nowhere in sight and I think, I am safe.  I bide my time, get cruised by a couple of silver-haired daddys and a pair of college-aged  things that are cute, but a bit on the tubby side.  But no Mr. Wonderful.  Okay, I figure, time for me to track him down. 

I find him in the steam room seated next to… yep, Dewey; who is talking his ear off while petting his inner thigh.  Believing I still have a shot at this, I plop my ass down next to Dewey (the only spot near Mr. Wonderful available) and play it cool.  Mr. Wonderful is telling Dewey that he is really just there to relax, but Dewey is not one to take ‘no’ for an answer.  Finally Mr. Wonderful has enough, gets up and walks out of the Sauna, followed by seventy-five percent of the guys who were also sitting in the Sauna, including Dewey. 

This is when the obese bearded history buff gets hold of my ears and I take notice of a silver-haired daddy with arms like a lumberjack.  I am smitten.  He’s not great looking, but those arms?  I could melt in those arms.  I relax and sit in a way that Mr. Lumberjack can see my dick, which I am coyly playing with all the while the obese history dude yammers on and on.  But Mr. Lumberjack is not interested in me.  He stares at the floor.  I take the hint and as soon as the obese history dude sprays down the cement again, I book out of there.  I wander around looking for Mr. Wonderful.  On my way around I see the following – the shorter, wider of the two college students is now lying face down on one of the beds with his ass in the air. 

His buddy is in the T.V. room watching some stupid reality show.  The buddy is taller than me and has a cute face, but I cannot get past the body thing which reminds me of one of those Playschool toys they have for toddlers – the one with the stackable, multi-colored doughnuts?  The dude is shaped like that with rolls of flab that get wider as you reach the base.  I’m polite, but not interested.  I look on.  I run into Dewey lying spread eagle on a bed.  He invites me in and I decline.  I decide to get a soda.  I am doing a really good job of remaining hydrated, drinking lots of water, but I decide I could use a little caffeine and sugar, as well.  I finish the soda and return to the steam room.  I would sit in the vid room, but I still think it has a weird smell, so the steam room it is.  Walking in, I see Mr. Wonderful, and - who is seated next to him?  Yep, you know it: Dewey.  Dewey is talking non-stop and getting really aggressive with the leg pawing.  Then he reaches under Mr. Wonderful’s towel and I make a swift exit. Some things I can live without seeing.  Unsurprisingly, Mr. Wonderful walks out right behind me. Well, score one for having good taste!

He goes to his locker.  I go to mine.  Everyone has now exited the Sauna, again.  I watch Mr. Wonderful as he returns to the Sauna, and I follow.  No one else is in the Sauna.  Yay.  Mr. Wonderful lies down on his back on the bench, exposing himself completely.  Now, I am not a creeper.  A creeper is someone who takes physical advantage of someone else without permission.  I am thinking a little conversation is in order before I make a move, in order to learn a little bit about Mr. Wonderful. 

Big mistake.

In walks Dewey, who literally climbs right between Mr. Wonderful’s legs and sucks his dick.  Just like that!  And Mr. Wonderful?  He lets him.  So much for having good taste.  I grab my stuff and walk out.  Again, some things I do not need to see.  I walk around and check back in, hoping that Mr. Wonderful has come to his senses, but, sadly, no.  Instead I see about ten other dudes standing around watching as Dewey and Mr. Wonderful 69 each other.  Walking out once more, I go looking for Mr. Lumberjack, who I never see again.  What I do see instead is the taller of the two college dudes lying on his back on a bed playing with his college-aged hard on.  It looks fuckable.  I stand just outside of the doorway and watch and consider walking in and lowering my ass on his stiff prick.  I could do worse.  He doesn’t look so bad lying down.  And then I remember what it all looks like in an upright position and walk away.

Going to my locker, I retrieve my phone.  Part of me wants to check messages and see if anyone has responded to my Craigslist ad, and part of me could care less.  Then I notice that my phone is dying.  I retrieve my charger and walk back to the futon to try and charge it.  The charger isn’t working.  I work it and work it, but no dice.  Taking it back my locker, I then decide: what the hell, I might as well go rock that college-aged dude’s world.  Only, by the time I get back to the room, he’s gone.  Then I hear someone talking, and realize that Dewey and Mr. Wonderful are now hooking up behind closed doors.  And that’s when I notice…

…my poppers are missing!

I search and search.  Retrace my steps and berate myself non-stop.  How could I be so stupid?  But all to no avail: not only will I probably remain stupid for the rest of my life, but the poppers are also nowhere to be found.  What the hell.  I decide I will go to The Last Place On Earth and get some new poppers and then grab a bite to eat.  The Last Place On Earth creeps me out big time, as it is full of scary-looking granola/homeless/college types waiting to buy synthetic weed.  There is NO customer service and I exit.  I go eat at The Red Dragon, or whatever it is called, just down the block.  The food is good and cheap and plentiful.  After eating half of what is on my plate, I walk back to the Sauna, figuring, hey, things have got to get better.

I run into the two college dudes, who are getting dressed to head out to a gay bar which opened up in downtown Duluth.  I casually mention my experience with The Last Place On Earth and my missing poppers, the latter of which gets a weird sideways glance going between the two college dudes.  The taller one suggests I try the dirty bookstore up the hill.  I tell him I have been there and that the man behind the counter is kind of a hateful queen (but not in those words).   The taller one walks away and the shorter of the two is locking his locker.  I glance down at the bench and there - in front of him?  A bottle of poppers.  Same brand as mine.  And the safety seal is removed the same way I remove them from all my poppers.  Coincidence?  Sure. Let’s go with that.  He smiles and explains that he just bought them up at the dirty bookstore.  I play nice and let it go. 

Maybe the universe suddenly decides to take pity on me.  For at that exact moment, in sweeps a total hunk.  He has no coat, and is wearing a t-shirt.  He’s mega short, like maybe 5’2”?  And built like a brick shit house, all muscled, huge arms bearing twin tats on his triceps.  And cute.  Handsome.  Manly.  I try not to stare and move my ass out of the room quickly.  I take a stroll around, knowing only too well that whatever that is, I gotta get me some.  Coming back into the locker room, The Hunk is nowhere to be seen.  He’s now taking a shower.  His skin is so tan that at first glance I mistake him for Hispanic.  He’s not.  But he is devilishly handsome, with a full head of semi-curly auburn hair.  I catch his eye as I stroll into the Sauna.  I think he likes what he sees.  Yay!

I wait in the Sauna for all of two minutes.  Once I realize The Hunk is not coming in, I take off in search of him. I find him right away, seated alone on the couch in the video room, with two other dudes, neither of which interest me in the slightest.  Gamely, I plop my ass right next to The Hunk and take the temperature in the room.  They are all stroking their dicks, and seeing as how The Hunk is comfortable with this, I start playing with mine as well.  I am hella nervous, but do my best to control it.  Good looking dudes do that to me, bringing all my insecurities rushing to the surface of my skin. 

Then, The Hunk does something that seals the deal and makes me, not only instantly like him, but also relax.  Like the dude in those old commercials who leans over suggestively and offers a lady a Tiparillo, The Hunk leans over and asks, “You want some poppers.”  He’d just opened them and he was offering me the first hit.  Fuck yeah.  I huff and hand them back.  Head swimming (they’re good poppers), I reach over and under The Hunk’s towel in order to grab his junk.  It’s small.  And all shaved, unlike his chest.  He reaches over and grabs my dick as well.  We play with each other and I learn immediately to be careful with The Hunk’s junk – he’s sensitive.  

Without a word more exchanged, The Hunk rises and walks out of the room.  I consider my options and realize the only card I have to play is to follow closely behind him.  Hey, it worked for Dewey.

I follow The Hunk back to the tiny bedroom I was napping in earlier that day.  The door is open.  He’s dropped his towel and is setting his lube and poppers on the night stand.  I stand just outside the doorway waiting for a formal invitation.  He notices me and sort of cocks his head, but it’s a subtle gesture and I don’t want to jump the gun, so I wait.  Finally he turns around and says, “Get your ass in here.”

Well, the man needn’t ask twice…

End of Part 3

Part 2: Best Made Plans and Bucket Lists

My relationship with sex is a lot like my relationship with food.  Deprived of it for any amount of time and my eyes automatically become too big for my stomach.  In other words, when I am not sexually active, my mind tends to work overtime, creating fantastical situations that frequently write checks my reality cannot cash.  This would explain my desire to have a gang bang where multiple anonymous tops use my ass as a cum dump and other such nonsense.  This type of gluttony?  Good in theory, difficult in reality.

The previous Tuesday I had some great sex in Eau Claire.  I had to concern myself with other things on Wednesday and Thursday.  Friday was to be the ‘big day’.  Mr. Rock Star showed up at my hotel as planned.  The sex was great.  He really wanted to be part of the gang bang, but had a previous commitment.  This was true of three other really hot guys who had signed on early in the planning of my little event; however, meeting them at another time was not in the cards. 

It was now 6:00 pm.  Mr. Rock Star had just left; two loads lighter.  I sit down in front of my laptop and contemplate: what is it I want?  The gang bang is to begin in two hours.  I have eight guys that have committed, plus three new dudes who want in, and one really nicely dicked dude who wants to watch and then fuck me with a condom.  Also, in the que for the BBRTs ad, are six dudes that I, for one reason or another, am reluctant to include (no pic, sketchy emails, suspicious profiles, bottoms).  On top of that, I have two dudes who have expressed interest in dropping by my hotel after 10:00 pm to use my ass.  One wants me to wear a blindfold. 

Looking at my options, I begin to question if this is a case where less is more and whether a little quality control isn’t also in order.   I’m not going to lie – the whole STD thing keeps nagging at me.  I expressed my sudden reticent bent, not only to Mr. Rock Star, but also to one of the upcoming participants who has been consistently enthusiastic about the event and the prospect of breeding my hole.  We begin texting back and forth.  He now wants to come over early.  I tell him I am working on stuff and that the 8:00 pm time still stands.  Then I begin reviewing my scheduled attendees and activities. 

First off, I contact the two dudes who want to show up after 10:00 pm and tell them I will not be available.  The thought of being wiped out from the gang bang and then having another couple of dudes come in, subjecting my ass to more abuse and sex is something I decide I do not want.  Sex out of obligation or sex that is merely tolerated because of having made an obligation?  That never feels right to me, and rather than risk it, I decide to bail early – early enough that they can make other plans.   They are disappointed.  I can live with that.  One is super hot.  The other?  It’s hard to tell; the stats are okay, but suddenly I am starting to really pay attention to height/weight proportion and waist size – the second dude definitely fails that measure.

So, too, do two other dudes who are invited to the gang bang via BBRTs.  I noticed that they have failed to read the email I sent out with the room number, so, I simply ‘unsend’ the emails and cancel their invitations.  I also contact the dude with the big dick who wants to watch and fuck me with a condom and tell him that I am getting cold feet and that the event will most likely be canceled.  He understands.  That brings me down to nine dudes: four from the craigslist ads, one from A4A, and four from BBRTS.  I still have my doubts about one dude’s stats from the craigslist ads, but decide to let it roll.  The other three have great stats and nice dicks.  The dude from A4A seems really enthusiastic about the event.  He also has a 31” waist and his stats are good.  He is Hispanic, I think… not sure, but English is definitely not his primary language; that I can tell from his emails.  The four dudes from BBRTS include the super nice dude who is encouraging me to go through with the event and three others that I think are pretty damn hot. 

How are things looking?  Age range: 24-48.  8 Caucasian, 1 Other.  Waist Size: 31-33”.  Dick Size: 7-9”.  The pig in me can’t help but wonder where all the black dudes are.  The ones I have spoken with on A4A all seem a touch on the prudish side, so I never push the whole ‘group’ thing with them.  I totally understand why dudes prefer one-on-one; normally, I am one of those guys.  But not this night.  This is on my sexual bucket list and, ultimately, that weighs into my decision to go through with the event: I want to cross it off, once and for all.  So, I figure, it’s now or never.

I am pretty sure that fifty percent of the dudes will flake.  That will mean a party of four or five dudes.  That, I decide, I can handle and will prove exciting enough.  As the time approaches, I check my ass (I douched and cleaned out again – not wanting to carry Mr. Rock Star’s butt babies longer than necessary), shower, check my supplies, hydrate, and turn back on my I-Pod.  At 7:58 pm, I assume my position on the bed, poppers in hand, and wait.

I didn’t wait long.

At 8:02, the door creaks open.  I hold off on the poppers and keep facing the headboard of the bed.  I love this moment; when a top enters the room and I have no idea what he looks like.  Will he be the love of my life?  A great fuck?  A serial killer?  Only time will tell.

I feel the cheeks of my ass pull apart and as a mouth plants itself firmly on my hole.  Dude knows how to eat ass.  I sneak a peek.  It’s the dude from A4A.  Short, squat, Asian, dressed to kill.  And my immediate thought is: 31” waist, my ass!  He’s not run-from-the-room bad, but he is not what he sold me on the internet.  If this was Ebay, I would be leaving him some really negative feedback regarding misrepresentation of product.  Still.  He showed up.  And he’s doing a good job eating my ass.

Soon he strips, and as he is doing this, I reposition myself so I can suck his dick.  His dick is… about six inches, on the thin side, and uncut.  What the hell, I figure.  He’s here.  Where is everybody else?   

As we play, I try to find things to like about the Asian dude.  His skin is soft.  His body, though thick and squat, is super solid.  He has a nice ass.  The sucking leads to kissing and he’s good at it.  Pulling my ass to the edge of the bed, he tells me to get on my back.   Without the courtesy of lubing up, he plunges in.  His dick is on the thin side, like I said, so, while I feel it, he’s not at risk of doing me any damage.  He’s an enthusiastic little fucker.  It’s not bad.  He pounds away for about ten minutes or so, kissing me on occasion. 

Then, there’s a knock on the door; which is weird.  I made a point of telling everyone the door would be open and to simply walk in.  The Asian dude stops fucking me and goes to open the door.  He comes back and picks up right where he left off.  Pound, pound, pound.  Based on the way he was dressed when he arrived, I am thinking he has someplace else to be.  Our new arrival approaches the bed.  Tall, thin, scruffy, young, with a sweet, sweet smile and a light in his eyes that would make one think he’s part leprechaun. There is something about his smile that rings a bell, but I can’t place it, and, as I currently have a dick up my ass, I put it out of my head.  Based on how the new dude is dressed – sweat pants, baggy pullover shirt, trucker cap, sneakers – I am guessing he’s something of a slacker, or, at least, of that generation.  He’s eyeing the Asian dude and giving me pointed smiles, as if to tell me that he is not digging the Asian dude.  I just say ‘hi’, nothing else I can do about any of it now. 

The Slacker dude strips and moves to the left side of the bed.  He has a really nice nine inch dick.  Thick.  And it curves…. Downward!  He slips it in my mouth and starts talking shit, asking me how much I like sucking his big, fat dick.  This never fails to make me laugh inside – when tops stuff your mouth full of dick and then ask you questions?  What is that about?   I have come to realize that their questions are, in fact, rhetorical and I needn’t answer, but I was raised a certain way, and when someone asks me a question, I always feel the need to supply an answer. 

Taking a read on the energy in the room, I can tell one thing: the Slacker and The Asian dude?  They don’t much care for each other.  Do they know each other?  What is it? 

In my current position, I am not able to fully deepthroat the Slacker’s cock.   This is rectified once the Asian dude takes a fuck break.  Initially, I roll up on all fours and face the Slacker dude straight on, but his dick curves down, so this is not a great angle, and I worry about hurting him – his dick is rock hard.  No worries, I know just what to do.  I roll on my back, with my head hanging off the side of the bed.  Bingo!  He’s tall, and he needs to bend at the knees a bit to accommodate, but soon, all nine inches of that fine, fat fucker is sliding in and out of my throat with relative ease.  And no gagging!

Slacker dude continues to talk shit to me, and this is something that must be a regular feature of any fuck he participates in.  I like verbal tops.  I like dom tops.  But, while verbal, Mr. Slacker is not all that dom.  He’s a kid.  It’s that leprechaun twinkle in his eyes.  He’s a sweet kid, reciting dialogue he’s picked up from watching porn.  The give away?  That slight adolescent squeak to his voice and the fact he can’t keep a straight face when telling me that I’m ‘nothing more than a cup dumpster, made for sucking dick and taking loads’.  Like any good actor, I don’t tip wise.  I know better: one works with what one is given.  And really?  His shtick is kind of endearing.

The Asian dude has now crawled up on the bed and is really into watching.  The Slacker dude is paying him no attention and moves me around before crawling up on top of me.  I think he’s coming in for a kiss, but no.  I move in for a kiss and am rebuffed.  He moves his face away from mine just slightly and talks into my neck.  Am I ready to take his big cock up my ass?  Fuck yeah.  I tilt my pelvis up and wait for entry.  I look over at the Asian dude, thinking he is probably going to want to stick his dick in my mouth, but nope, he’s intent on watching Slacker dude enter my hole. 

So, again, the downward curve of his dick is a little problematic, requiring a lot of assist on my part.  But soon enough, dude is in and taking his time with my hole, allowing me to feel the full length and width of his mighty sword.  It feels awesome and I let him know.  Before long, he asks me if I’m ready to get pounded.  Fuck yeah!  Only… his idea of pounding?  Not all that violent.  More like a steady fuck.  That figures.  He’s a sweet man.  His fucking technique is pretty much like his approximation of the sex talk he’s learned from porn; more of an homage than the genuine article.  That’s cool with me.  With a dick like his, he can homage me all day if he likes. 

He’s fucking me for like ten minutes, talking shit, leaning in and not kissing.  Then he leans in and says something that surprises me: Am I ready to take his load!  Really?  It feels a little out of left field, but I’m in the moment and respond enthusiastically.  He does that freeze in place, shudder thing some tops do, demanding to know if I can ‘feel his seed’.  Honestly?  I rarely can, but always tell them yes, that I can feel them white washing my hole. 

He stays on top of me for a bit, his face so close to mine that we could kiss, except we don’t.  He apologizes for cumming so soon, but explains that he held his load for me since Monday and was so excited to finally meet me.  Again, I think, sweet.   And, dude?  You came in my ass – nothing to apologize for.   We breathe the same air for a bit more, but my idle is short lived, for the Slacker’s recent deposit lights a fire in the Asian dude’s loins.  He yanks my ass to the end of the bed and resumes pounding my hole.  Something in his demeanor tells me that he is ready to join the ‘deposit a load’ club.  It gives me the opportunity to appreciate his efforts.  I also know that as soon as he leaves I am going to spill the beans about his 31” waist.  Dude shoots and scores.  He dresses and leaves quickly.  And it turns out I am not the only one that wants to talk about him once he leaves.

The Slacker dude is yet another trick that likes to talk.  A lot.  I learn he doesn’t know the Asian dude and that he didn’t feel very welcome.  I tell him that last part can’t be true, because, on-line, the Asian dude was super excited about the whole gang bang thing, as in sharing.  Turns out the Asian dude gave the Slacker dude a dirty look when he opened the door.  I do the math on that one and realize what that was about; he was annoyed.  The Asian dude was fucking my ass, had to stop, and go open the door, even though the door was unlocked.  I tell the Slacker that all he had to do was push on it.  This makes sense to the Slacker, and I share a bit more about the Asian dude’s profile (rife with inaccuracies), all the dudes who flaked, and the one’s I turned down.   He knows a few of the dude’s, including the dude with the big cock that wanted to fuck with a condom.  He tells me he throws a hell of a fuck, and then asks me if I’m ready to get fucked some more.

Cool.

It’s pretty much a repeat of load one: no kissing, face close to mine, talking dirty into my neck.  We change it up a bit (doggy on the bed, then me bent over the end of the bed), but all in all, it’s a meat and potatoes fuck.  Added bonus?  He makes a video of it with his camera. Me?  I gave up getting pics when the Asian dude walked in.  He ends up on top of me, my legs in the air, firing off another load.  And I think that’s the end of it.  He pulls out and tells me to get ready for it.  He’s jerking his cock and… shoots a third time (!), hitting me in the face and coating my whole torso in cum!  I am in awe, and tell him so.  Dude shoots massive loads.

We relax; me on the bed, him in the arm chair, and I learn a whole bunch about Madison.   I learn about local HIV funding. We talk about housing. I learn there’s a serious syphilis outbreak in Madison (isn’t that true everywhere?).  I learn about the bareback sex parties that one of the local bars hosts, the money of which is then donated to one of the local HIV non-profits (is that irony?)  I learn that the Slacker used to live in my current neighborhood at the same time I did (and I am thinking we probably fucked before). 

The one thing I don’t learn?  Why won’t he kiss me?  I don’t ask because I think I remember the answer.  It’s a standard for dudes who mimic porn without getting the full gist of what it is to be a porn star.  Most likely?  Kissing is reserved for boyfriends and partners, not tricks.   Yeah, okay, whatever.

Eventually the conversation winds down.  The Slacker is off to a bar downtown to meet friends.  It’s 10:00 pm.  So much for my gang bang.  A lopsided three-way does not a gang bang make and it remains on the bucket list.  I proffer to the Slacker that perhaps gang bangs are too crude for Madison.  Or maybe I’m just too fucking old.  He tells me that’s not true; that if I tried this in Chicago, they would be lined up around the block.  He leaves and I consider turning in.   But I haven’t eaten.  And I want a drink.

I drive over to Club Five – or whatever they are calling it now.  I am wearing my tightest jeans, a Harley Davidson cap with a skull on it, my kick ass boots, and a black Piggly Wiggley T-shirt.  It has the familiar logo on the front in white with the word ‘Piggly’ on it and on the back a pig’s butt, complete with corkscrew tail and the word “Wiggley”.  I look good.  And the giant, rather tragic drag queen that spies me as I enter the bar is all over me in a flash.  She’s drunk and soooo not my thing.  I am polite, but play shy and make my way to The Barracks; the back room where they used to play porn and dudes were kind of cruisy.  But no more.  They opened up the wall and porn is now played only a few nights a month.   The bartender is older, sweet, and nice.  He ends up being my one real conversation of the evening.  I order a gin and tonic.

I check Grndr.  It’s college night.  So there are 19 year olds running around.  Drunken college kids?  Not my thing.  A few make eyes at me, a few hit me up on Scruff and Grndr.  I am polite.  I am not interested.  I am… disappointed.   I’ve had a lot of fun at this bar in the past, but not tonight.   Three bowls of popcorn and one more gin and tonic later, I am out of there.  I hit a nearby Perkins and have some soup and salad. 

It’s now 2:00 am.  I am to be on the road and on my way to Duluth by 7 am, which means I have to be up by 6:00 am.  Lights out.  I sleep heavy.  Disappointed?  Sort of, but there was a lot to like, too. 

Maybe Duluth will be better…

End Part 2