Beggars, Choosers

Today I had a bit of a breakthrough with Ultra Meat-- he finally let me cum in his mouth, and I came big. I was slowly fucking my bone in and out of his skull while he was on his back, with that insanely hot body spread back on the bed in front of me. I helplessly watched my dick buried in his beautiful face, firing what seemed like endless shots of fuckjuice into him, while my hands groped at his meaty, stubbly chest. He fisted himself like crazy and I kept saying "Cum man, cum with me, I want to cum at the same time," and he started dripping white spooge all over his black skin. And then a precious look of disgust came over his face, and I held up a washcloth to his face, laughing. "That bad, huh?" I joked while he spat it all out. He looked at me sheepishly with his sweet, gentle manner, and said, "You know how it is after you get off, the feeling changes." I didn't fault him. It was pretty fantastic sex. While he sucks beautifully, we spent most of the time mock-fucking, bodies pressed together tightly, his huge meaty limbs wrapped all around me with desire, his cock freely oozing precum all over our joined bellies-- and most of that time we were cooing into each other's ears how how it would be for me to fuck him raw, how much I want to cum in him, how I want him to carry me inside him when he goes back home, how much he wants to feel my hard dick in his soft insides, how he turns me into pure sex whenever he comes over.

And yet I'm an idiot... I'm a little disappointed. All day I got turned down by guys I was crazy hot for, and it's always the same type-- the thin, otterish, hairy type, toned but not too built, but very nice shape. And they're never into me. After work, I was excitedly about to go cum in a new guy in the East Village, a little cute nerdy guy with the kind of healthy, manly but short and slim body I really want but never get, and then BBRTs kicked me out and wouldn't let me log back in! Just as we were about to exchange numbers! Agony! Ultra Meat was actually my consolation prize. He'd texted me yesterday saying simply, "Service?" and I put him off with a gentle excuse so I could look for new ass, but got nada. This morning he texted again, saying-- very sweetly and wistfully I must say-- "I so wish I could suck you today." When my otter fell exasperatingly into the Internet void, I texted Ultra Meat back, and he trotted over dutifully within fifteen minutes and spent an hour moaning about how hot I am as I lay on top of him, manhandling his limbs. And yet still all I want are these little guys who don't even know I exist! What is wrong with me! Here towards the end of this blogging year, let's have a look at the difference between what I want and what I get.
First, here is an array of guys who have inexplicably let me stick my dick in them, many of them letting me squirt my cum in them, and all but one or two inexplicably hit me up again asking for more on multiple occasions. I have declined each of those guys on some occasion because I wanted to find some little guy. They all look really beautiful to me lined up here and I realize I hope to fuck them all again:


These are beautifully meaty guys, all of them are pretty handsome, and I'm an idiot for not going running the instant any of them ask for me. I am a schlub and they are totally out of my league. I should be *begging* them to take my meat every day. But no. I choose. And often lose.

The following guys will not even give me the time of day and leave me pining and weeping away for their cute, tight, hairy little bodies:


Fuck, just looking at them fills me with longing and makes the cum rise up in my balls. If only they knew how much I desire them! Don't they care! No one will fuck them like I will fuck them! Would they let me fuck them if they knew the big meatheads up above whimper for my cum regularly?? Most of these guys totally ignore my advances, but one of them actually told me he was interested in letting me sweat all over him and cum inside him but the timing didn't work out that day. So I told him I'd buddy list him. And every time after that I saw him I hit him up, but he ignored me until finally I found I was blocked. Torture, torture! As Morrisey pathetically sang, "Please please please, let me get what I want... Lord knows it would be the first time."


I often look at guys with bodies or faces I wish I had and moan to myself, "If I just looked like you, I could have anyone I wanted!" But I guess no one ever gets exactly what they want-- I've been told by more than one very built guy that guys never hit on them, or run away when they make the first move, saying "You're too much to handle, I'm not built like you, I'm sorry." So it's just as well. Ultra Meat is a hell of a consolation prize, and we all beg and we all choose sometime.