web log analysis Confessions of a Promiscuous Top: Judgmental

Thursday, September 20, 2012


Today I juiced up a pretty skanky dude. There are very real sexual "dialects" out there and it's pretty disappointing to me when someone who is pretty attractive-- he wasn't super hot or anything, but I liked his face and his body-- doesn't speak the same sexual dialect as me. Let me explain.

This morning I was teased by a fantastic guy I fucked before, who is actually mostly top and typically only hits me up when he wants me to fuck some Latino kid in Bushwick with him or something like that. But he has a fantastic little body with a meaty ass that I'm dying to eat that incredible assmeat again and squirt another big load in him, and I'm flattered someone as good-looking as him keeps coming back for more, so I keep the dialog open. (I am not really interested in 3ways, but I confess the idea of watching this guy fuck another guy, then me separating them and taking turns deep-dicking them both, and cumming in one a few spurts, then pulling out and squirting the rest in the other, gives me a serious boner.) He definitely speaks my dialect! Today he said he wanted me to fuck him, "It's been a while and I'm horny." He exchanged a couple emails with me, expressing excitement at the idea of getting eaten out, then vanished, as he is prone to do. Maybe he found someone better, or a bottom, who knows. But he got my motor going and I had to fuck. I hit up another guy I had an awesome time with once, who also hits me up all the time asking for more. He will never go raw, however, and even though he is like one of the hottest guys I ever touched, I'm stupid and always want someone new, and someone who will take me unwrapped. But the first guy filled me with ass-hunger, and the second guy is beautiful, so I hit him up. And he wrote back instantly, saying he only had short periods free today. So then I was seriously frustrated. Skanky appeared a few hours later, after I sent a fusillade of unrequited can-I-fuck-you-please notes to guys I hadn't hit on before which made me sad and lonely. Skanky said he "needed" my cum. We'd talked before but hadn't sealed the deal. I figured this is what I was going to have to do today-- I needed ass. His pix were kinda OK but I did really like his face. So I ran over. And it was pretty skanky-- just so not how I like to have sex.

From the beginning it was a pain in the ass. He's in Chelsea, which I think I am going to write off my menu forever now; I almost never have good experiences with the guys there. Eight Ave was flooded with rowdy high school kids coming in the other direction. The entrance to Skanky's building was under construction and confusing. The hallway on his floor was long and grim and reeked of pot (I loathe that smell). He opened the door wearing just a tank top and a cockring, and was already jerking his seriously massive tool, glistening with lube, as a tiresome, yappy little dog jumped around his ankles. I am old fashioned and hate this kind of thing; the buildup to pants-off is something I consider a big part of the fun, and it's almost kinda rude when someone opens the door masturbating. I looked over his shoulder and saw a big portable sling set up in the corner, jammed up against two walls and a modular couch, with the seat hanging over two giant exercise balls. The bedroom door was open and I could see a crappy loft bed in there. Great, I thought, another Manhattan dude without a good place to fuck. The sling, in particular, really annoyed me. I just hate sexual paraphernalia and find it mildly embarrassing (even cockrings, which are deeply annoying). As I said, he was kind of cute in a truck-drivery kind of way, but there wasn't anywhere good I could lay on top of him and enjoy looking at him with my bone up his hole. This was not going to be a fuck in my dialect.

I did my best to go with it, and moved in to make out with him, which was pretty nice-- even he said so-- except after a minute or so I guess he had to "amp it up" by wiggling his tongue and grabbing my wang through my shorts. Note to everyone everywhere: wiggling your tongue while you are kissing is not sexy. He got down on the couch and pulled out my dick and sucked me pretty nicely till I was thick. I pulled my shorts all the way down and told him to kneel, and it felt great-- I love putting my hands on a buzzed head, cupping a scruffy chin with the other hand, while my tool is getting expertly sucked. But even with this he didn't have patience or finesse; he stopped the awesome head, which I was encouraging heartily, and jacked me hard with his slippery hand, muttering excited but unintelligible phrases. I asked if I could lay back and he got all excited and said "hell yeah" and his eyes were big and glistening as I spread my legs and pointed at my dong. And he got down on all fours and worked me really nice again. But then after another minute he just kept saying he wanted my load, he wanted my dick in me, and started the hard jerking thing again. Note to everyone everywhere: if you use your hands more than your mouth during a blowjob, you're cheating.

He looked nice bent over me on the couch, so I figured all I could do was fuck him and cum in him and get it over with; this wasn't going to be a very satisfying experience. So I told him to stay in the position he was in, with his knees on the edge of the chaise and his weight on his hands, and got up to inspect the ass. I'm pretty sure the pictures online weren't him-- his ass was a lot hairier and not shaped the same-- but it was serviceable, and those giant nuts and that huge tool, even if it was all artificially engorged by the cock ring, were pretty impressive and alluring. I ate out his hole and it tasted pretty chemically, almost rubbery, and I worried that he had already been cum in. So I asked him flat out, "Did you already get fucked, man?" And he seemed a little wary, and said, "Yesterday, why?" I didn't answer, but tried again. I think he was just pre-lubed-- another tiresome habit. My face was actually getting slippery with lube as I ate him out-- a silicone-based kind that always feels extremely powdery and artificial to me. But he seemed to like what I was doing, saying "You can do this to me every day, that feels so good, you're so sexy, blablabla." Holding that massive dong while I pushed my tongue into his hole had me hard as a rock, so I slid it in, and it went it pretty easy, though he was tight.

I fucked him like a dog for about 15 minutes, with a couple breaks to eat his ass some more. He kept alternately begging for the cum and looking at his phone, which had a picture of the little yappy dog on it, and a stream of emails-- he had told me at the beginning that he was worried about work calling or something, but this was ridiculous. This was not someone who was attuned to the finer pleasures of cornhole lovemaking. He periodically looked back and me plaintively and he really did look pretty cute; it was just a little depressing that it was going down this way. So I sawed away at him, looking out over a row of tenements on 19th St, trying to get as much sensation out of his hole as I could, giving him long deep strokes, and then just heaved it in as deep as I could and let the cum fly. He felt my dick pulsing and went into paroxysms of delight, since I guess this is the only unmediated part of sexual contact he allows himself. I held it in as deep as I could for a good while after I was done unloading, and he seemed to appreciate this, forgetting about the phone for a record 90 seconds. The little yappy dog's face stared up at me on the phone's screen as the last drops of cum slimed out of my tubesteak into his body, and a parade of fire engines suddenly went by, wailing at what could have been.

"You fucked the cum right out of me, you made me cum too!" he claimed, and I said "Oh really?" and looked at the couch, but saw nothing. Maybe he came in his hand, but I didn't see where he could have wiped it without me noticing. I think it was all in his head. In fact, for this kind of guy, SEX is all in their heads. There's no time to enjoy anything, there's no give-and-take, there's no natural smell or taste, it's all overpowered, overdone, overslicked, over-stunk, over-thought, overwrought, overplayed. I staggered over to the bathroom to wipe all that gross lube off my mouth and beard and forehead, and he was already talking about "next time." Well dude, if we were fucking right, we'd still be fucking THIS TIME.

I rode home on the subway with a mouth full of napalm-flavored lube, feeling a little sour. A Latin queen across the car kept staring at my hairy legs and my knees, which felt a little raw from the sisal carpet he had for me to kneel on while I was eating him out. Maybe he could tell what those knee burns were! Note to everyone everywhere: don't make people fuck you on modular furniture arranged around a sisal carpet.

I came home to about 5 offers of hot hot ass from various guys, one of which came about 2 minutes after I left the house! Ah well. There's one more man in New York City with my sperm swimming inside him now, and that's something, I guess.

Sex is such a wonderful thing. I just wish more guys could just let it happen. But I'm very judgmental, aren't I? I've probably lost half my readers with this screed!


  1. I've had more fun at the dentist (which happens to be the only time I go to Chelsea!)

    1. At this point I don't even know if I'd trust a dentist in Chelsea! At some point you'll get to an even worse fiasco in Chelsea where I wrote the whole neighborhood off....