Waste

Next week is my last week in this goddamn Southern hell-hole, which I am desperately sick of looking at every day as I driiiiive from nowhere to nowhere doing nothing. And I can't wait to get back to NYC and my partner and my home and my friends. As of this afternoon I hadn't gotten off since last Friday, and have been prickteased and lied to to death. I've had people who want to suck my dick show me a picture of their own dick, and get huffy when I suggest that maybe that doesn't help me decide whether I want to meet them for their desired purpose. I've had a guy text me at 11pm telling me he wanted to hook up but couldn't, because a friend came over and fell asleep on his couch but maybe if he wakes up I can come over. My sister went to the beach for the weekend today, so I finally had a place where I could host if I wanted to-- it was iniquitous to do so but a man has needs. So I made the rounds of dudes who said they'd hook up if only I could host-- which is at least 3/4 of this town; I never been in a place where so many adults had putative roommates, not even NYC-- and was still turned down by almost all of them. But one dude did seem game. There was a lot of cat and mouse-- it's too far! maybe it's not! I'm too busy! Maybe I won't be! But finally, after I'd given up on him and was wandering around a Target looking for slippers for my mother, he suddenly texted saying he'd meet met in 20 minutes. So I dropped everything and rushed to the appointed place-- I couldn't invite him directly to my sister's without seeing him first, or whatever-- hoping maybe he'd drain me right and earn my gigantic load.

Ouch

So my planned rendez-vous with the little hardbody on Wednesday, which necessitated Tuesday night's submission to a marathon nut-draining from Woody Harrelson, did not happen as planned, of course. But this was my fault-- I woke up that morning with unpleasant pains in my stomach that I spent the whole morning wishing away, but never went. It must have been something I ate, but I felt full of pressure and bloat. By 1pm I gave up, and texted him to say I felt a little sick and extremely unsexy, asking to go for Thursday instead. He wrote back right away expressing disappointment but saying Thursday was fine. Then Thursday he writes *me* and says *he* has a stomach problem. So we agree on Friday. I think, is this gonna turn into one of those things that fizzle out ridiculously because of scheduling issues? My fear was furthered when I hadn't heard from him by 3 on Friday, despite a couple of texts. I know his partner comes home around 6:30 or so, and we'd talked about trying to fuck all afternoon. So this didn't look promising either. I began to look for other possibilities, and found an unusually pretty black kid with a stupendously tight, muscular body, who asked if I ate ass. I said, "Like Chris Christie eats cheeseburgers." But I took too long to reply, and by the time I'd emitted this aperçu, he'd said, "Well this isn't going anywhere, I'm going out for a run. Bye" and signed off. Geesh! Little Hardbody finally wrote back an hour later, saying he was at the dermatologist and hoped it would be quick. Finally he said I could swing by at 5. When I asked how long he could spare, he texted back pithily, "hour." Hm! So much for fucking all afternoon. He couldn't even spend the time to type a two-letter article for his noun into his phone. It's rare I want to get together with a guy over and over like this at all, much less want to fuck him all afternoon on the third get-together, but I really wanted to. So I told him, "With you, I'll take what I can get," which seemed to really please him. And just before 5 I hopped in the car to go the few miles it took to get to him.

Small Disappointments and Pleasant Surprises

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Dammit

Today I got snookered by Ultra Meat. I'm back in Brooklyn for the week, getting a little much-needed R-n-R from the situation back home. My mom ended up hospitalized last Friday, but I managed to catch her problem quickly enough that it was mercifully brief. While she was in she told me she insisted that I come up to be with my partner, and I took her up on it, extending the trip through the week to get more time with him and my friends. It took a few days to decompress, and my apartment and grotty neighborhood never looked better to me than after being in my miserable hometown for six or seven weeks. Today marked my first interest in even looking for ass, but no one was biting. Ultra Meat has been steadfastly texting me while I've been away, reminding me periodically of his deep, inexplicable need for my dick. We had a hot torrent of texting a few weeks ago about how next time I fucked him he didn't want me to pull out, he wanted my seed, yadda yadda. My balls were pretty blue after a long bout of dirty messaging this morning on Manhunt with the Hot Son from last summer, who loves for me to talk elaborately and at length about dad/son cum fantasies. I find that all kind of silly, but he's so good looking that I always indulge him, and it ends up turning me on. My nuts were aching in their sac. I intended to take Ultra Meat up on his offer to take my cum in his ass later in the week, when I wasn't so pent-up, but by early evening I had to get off with *somebody*, and I thought maybe fucking someone who wasn't new would help me last even with this heavy testicular cargo. So I asked Ultra Meat to come and get it. He didn't get back to me until uncomfortably close to when my partner would be home. I told him to come by anyway, throwing caution to the wind, telling him point-blank, "I want to cum in you." His reply was "Fuck. I want it." And he came over. But... fucker! I didn't get to cum in him.

Ups and Downs

I kinda can't bring myself to describe in much detail the fantastic experience I had with the Tight-Bodied Little Bottom yesterday, since pretty much a couple hours later my mother had a horrible relapse into an earlier condition I thought we were long past. It's just amazing how life does this... for about two hours he and I had some pretty mind-bendingly connected sex bathed in a golden afternoon light, fully in the moment, absolutely beautiful movements and sensations. (He texted me later saying "You're incredible" and "You're one of the best sex partners I have ever had"; I will say we are unusually well-paired, for sure.) After my huge pulsing orgasm inside him, watching his eyes dilate as he felt me inseminating him, and then his raining all over me in splatters (he stood up over me to get off, for some reason, and beat himself like crazy till he came and came and came while I flinched like it was lava hitting me-- I really kinda avoid other guys' cum), we lay together and talked for a long time. I could barely leave because we kept wrapping ourselves around each other and making out and saying goodbye and then talking some more and making out some more and saying goodbye some more. And then I came home to a mounting disaster that I feel less and less equipped to handle emotionally after all this time. I can remember the pleasure of yesterday afternoon but not call it up to the present the way I like to when I write these things. Things feel rather bleak right now and the high of yesterday feels a million miles away. I'm due to take a short trip up to Brooklyn this weekend to visit my lonely partner and spend some time with him. He's terrified that I'm going to cancel because of how things have turned here, but I think I earned a respite and some other family members have to step in. I don't know how I can enjoy my time with him in the place where I really want to be much, knowing what's going on down here. But I hope I can.

Maintenance Suck

Things are going well enough with my mom, and the weather has turned nice enough here, to put me in a much better mood and give me more energy to properly monitor the fluid level in my balls. For the first several weeks here it was like I forgot I even had balls, and I emptied them almost dutifully merely because I suddenly had precious free time and there was an available gullet to dispose of my surplus sperm in. Not my preferred modus operandi. The pickings are rather slim down here but I *am* very enthusiastic about fucking the tight little bottom from last week. I hit him up yesterday and we set up a time for this afternoon and I think he'll come through-- he wants my dick in him just as much as I do. But unfortunately my nuts have been dutifully pumping out unspent goo ever since The Perfect Fuck For Me on Saturday. And in the meantime there were periods of dirty texting with that guy (including a long message on Adam4Adam saying he was "honored" that he got to take my dick and wished it weren't the case that we'd probably never see each other again, because he could have sex with me every day and not get tired of it-- nice to read and made my gonads just sing) and generally feeling positive and optimistic (which always makes my balls go into overdrive). So I knew the four days' worth of back production would keep me from being able to fuck the little guy right; I didn't want to cum too fast with him. I needed someone to relieve the pressure last night after dinner. I wanted to get out of the house because it was a nice night, so I drove to a little parking lot by a greenway, cut the engine but left the radio playing nice melodic indie tunes, and cruised in the dark on my iPhone feverishly for about 90 minutes with no luck-- 90% of the time when you DO find someone down here who you have a mutual attraction for, they can't host. Finally when I had given up and driven a ways to get some oatmeal cookies to bring back and eat in bed while I fretted about popping too quickly in the Tight Little Bottom, I heard from a little cub who blew me a couple of years ago that I really enjoyed being with and talking to. Perfect! He didn't live far from the grocery store where I was buying cookies. So I ran over, feeling surprised at how things were suddenly working out when things had seemed so disastrous for the past month. I told him to light some candles "like last time," and he said "Wow you remembered!" Of course I did!

Language or Laughter

Today I feel like I had the best sex of my life. I am given to hyperbole, I know, and I also have been lucky enough to have a tremendous amount of good fucking, and I've shared some extremely hot, intense orgasms with other men, and I've stuck my dick in some truly flawless bodies. But the guy I did today was honestly unique in the 28 years of fucking I've done since that first nervous introduction of my hard, throbbing dick to a slimy sexual membrane at 16 on a dairy farm in Schenectady (yes, that is now I lost my virginity-- to a demanding girl I'd spent the morning doing something called "scraping" with in the cow barn, which is exactly what it sounds like). The guy was incredibly cute to me-- my favorite combination of rather dorky but also really handsome-- and had a naturally muscled body so full of ample thick bulges and curves that it touched a deep and primal attraction in me that precluded thinking with words. And he had thick meaty hands you can only get from doing a lot of manual labor or sports. And gigantic round nuts and a dick that simply would make you cry, it was so hard, long, thick, fleshy-tipped, and pretty. But beyond all that, what made this so earth-shattering to me, was a kind of mutual recognition we discovered sexually. I'm less cute, less built, less hung, less everything, but we both reached into each other to find we were made of the same sensual fabric, and for a couple of hours we wrung out of it as much satisfaction as we possibly could. And our constant reaction to this intense mutual recognition in our different bodies was the only one possible in the presence of an ideal other who is deep down somehow just like you: We laughed. We fucked and sucked and kissed and rubbed and laughed until we were spent, soaked, exhausted, and euphoric.

Raw Fucking in the Dark

Last night I slipped my throbbing bare tool in the sweet meaty ass of a guy who was Not Quite As Advertised on Scruff... but I actually really dug it anyway, in the end. I hit him up because he was super cute and had a nice meaty little body, not too meaty but just right, a little shorter than me, nice broad shoulders. He was fairly young, 31 or so, and cute enough that I didn't think he'd respond (almost no one does on Scruff; I'm not sure what's up with those apps). But he did, and unlocked like a dozen more pictures of himself-- an awesome body shot showing a beautiful mat of straight, highly patterned hair on his torso, a couple more of his humongous uncut dick with gigantic fat shaved balls hanging below it, and... well, a bunch more face pix that looked vaguely like the guy in the main pic but not exactly the same. They didn't look much like each other, either, to be honest, though they were from varied enough angles and enough different candid situations that I figured he might be one of those dudes that photographs strangely. As usual the best photo was the one he took of himself in the mirror (or the one whoever it was in the pic took of himself-- I'm still not sure, even after humping and slobbering all over him for an hour). But even in the private pix the body looked good-- maybe a little meatier than the first one but still doable, and his ass looked like a real prize. The way his body hair spread across his torso made my dick thicken in my pants. He said all the right things about what he liked, though we didn't discuss going raw; I figured I could have a good time with this guy no matter what, so I didn't want to scare him away. We exchanged last-tested dates and set up a time for the next day. And I showed up at the appointed time, having been unusually excited even on the way over, feeling like I could cum in my pants, even! That hair pattern, rising up from his crotch in a thick, radiating line, up to his chest, where it branched out like an eagle's wings, kept flashing into my mind as I drove, making my balls ache. I was really excited.