web log analysis Confessions of a Promiscuous Top: Language or Laughter

Saturday, May 4, 2013

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.
From the beginning I honestly thought he was full of shit. The body was very nice, thick and muscled and hairy, but the face picture was just way too cute, a sort of guy who is just never attracted to me. Dark hair, prominent but fine dark eyebrows, rather large, noble nose, devilish curling lips, just really crazy handsome and smirky in the pic. He was instantly very obviously hungry for me and unusually eloquent about what he liked and wanted-- so many guys on line don't go much beyond "that sounds hot man" and I estimate that in texts and online messages I write about three or four times what I get back. Decades of experience has taught me that the only guys who can talk like this, for whatever reason, are emotionally stunted, use fake pics, or never meet up but string you along until you wanna rip your own nuts off and ram them down their throats... and then they suddenly just vanish, blocking you or never signing on again. We both admitted to having trouble hosting or finding free time, but he suggested Saturday afternoon, and I eventually told him it sounded like sex with him might be worth springing for a cheap hotel up by where he was working, way across town. At this point we'd really just discussed his sucking me off and some body contact, so I felt kind of dumb even saying that, but he was so incredibly cute and so good at pushing my buttons that I really meant it. Assuming this was even him. I kept looking at the picture and thinking, just no way. But it was turning me way on.  I told him I'd pay for the room if he promised to suck me for as long as I say and make out with me. We exchanged numbers early in the week and I just kept waiting for him to stop replying. But he never did. Feeling like a dope, I internally picked out a hotel and hoped.

Then today, about an hour before I'd told him I'd text him and confirm, he texted me. I was surprised; I always have to pursue what I want much, much more than this. He then texted me a little picture of himself in coveralls, dripping with paint, holding a roller, and grinning that telltale grin. He looked nerdier in this pic than in the glamorous mirror shot online. But it was undeniably him and the nerdiness just made my nuts melt in my ball-sack. I thought, if he's doing this and ends up flaking, this is an incredibly cruel universe. We exchanged some fun dirty texts while I sat in a German restaurant eating lunch with my mom, who was very cheerful and chatty today and had no clue what her son was up to. I kept thinking, really? He just seemed way too good to be true.

I dropped mom back at home and checked out availability at the hotel I had in mind. Horrifyingly, the rates were suddenly almost twice what I thought they were. I thought, am I really going to spend $90 on a blowjob? I looked back at the picture. I thought, eesh. Right at this time he texted me again. I told him the situation and asked if he'd meet me maybe closer to the airport where things were cheaper. He said he'd pay half. I told him about where it was. He did the dreaded "I have to take a shower and also say my goodbyes to the other workers." I figured this would be the kiss off. I waited longer than I thought I would have to for that, and began to mentally pack up. I had figured this would happen.

But then he called me!

He had an extremely corny southern accent, which I didn't expect-- his features made him look vaguely mediterranean. He was totally forthright sexually, saying he seriously needed to suck my dick and was out of his mind horny. He was distressed that I was across town and would take about 25 minutes to get to him, and said his cell phone was "old school" and he had no GPS or anything. I gave him directions and assured him I'd get there fast. We were going to meet in the parking lot. I shot over there like a bat out of hell and got there first, as he was "tooling around" waiting for me, and had gone to a car wash.

After five minutes he pulled up beside me. He was so fucking cute. He asked me to slide into his car. I did. His legs filled out his pants in a way that made my spine liquefy. A bit of hair curled out of the V in his shirt. His biceps bulged unconspicuously but healthily above his fuckin beautifully hairy forearms. A ham of a fist rested on the steering wheel. His eyes were warm and golden brown, a gorgeous transparent color that you could stare into and not find the bottom. His irises were big and frank, giving his face a more vulnerable look than I expected. I couldn't believe my luck. I told him he was really handsome and he said his mom always told him that. "Did she also say you'd look even better with her dick in your mouth?" I asked, and he said no, his brother said that. I giggled stupidly and he said "I'm from Tennessee, after all." He looked in my eyes and said he couldn't wait to suck my dick. He wasn't smarmy or oversexy about it, he just looked at me and told me what he wanted from me. And he pulled out his wallet and said, "I feel stupid, but here's my money for the room." He handed me two twenties and I folded them and put them away, saying "I usually don't ask for this until after I've allowed myself to be sucked off," and he laughed. "Let me go get the room and I'll be right back." GOD what luck!

Well, no.

I got inside and they said there were no rooms available. WTF!

I went back out and told him the situation. There was a Super 8 right across the street. "Let's just try that," I said. He followed me. But as I drove past the door of the office, a paper sign announced "NO VACANCIES."


I trotted over to his car after we parked again. "There's no vacancy here either," I whined. "What the hell!" he whined with me. But we both grinned at each other. "Look, I gotta get my dick in you," I said. "If you're willing to go over by the airport there's lots of places." "Do you have one of those smart phones? Can you get a reservation?" I told him that's exactly what I'd do. And I did. I trotted back to his car and told him where to go. "I don't have GPS," he told me, "I use GPH: Get People's Help! I'll just follow you." So I led him to the hotel and waved to him in the parking lot, grinning, as I ran in to check in.

The lobby was, of course, swarming with people who seemed to have baroque requirements for room arrangements that flustered the receptionist. I waited as patiently as I could, cursing my perennial bad luck. After a while the cutie texted me a little smiley. Somehow I found that incredibly appealing. It was just a smiley. Who was this guy?? "Of course, there is a line," I texted him. "Sit tight." "I am PRECUMMING LIKE CRAZY in my pants!" he texted back. Standing in the lobby I exchanged a flurry of dirty texts with him. "Have you got a lot of time, man?" I asked. "My dick is yours all evening if you want it." "I have dinner plans with a friend I haven't seen in a year :/" he texted back. Again somehow the wry smiley made me smile. This boy was not like other boys. He was incredibly sexy and horny and a doof. I looked wistfully at the desk manager who suddenly ran away waving an electronic key card, leaving the rest of us to stare at each other with eyebrows raised and helpless, open hands. She didn't come back for five minutes.  Nothing was happening except dinner time was inching closer and closer.

Finally I had a room of my own and texted him where to meet me. He showed up a minute after I got in there, and I closed the door. He immediately ripped his clothes off, saying how much he wanted me NOW, and that beautiful tool sprang free. He wagged it back and forth with a thwapping sound by twisting his hips, grinning at himself. He was already poking straight out. "You're out of control," I said to him, pulling my own clothes off, revealing my not-yet-hard, sad little sausage. But he had said he liked to start sucking on soft dick to feel it harden in his mouth. I didn't have to care. This guy was awesome. I climbed in the bed and said, "Get to work."

He didn't right away. He jumped up on the bed between my legs, curled into himself a bit, showing me just the crown of his head, his flexing meaty shoulders and biceps, and thick haunches. He stroked my feet and kissed my legs all up and down. He brushed his face against my bush and breathed on my meat. "Your body drives me crazy," he said, inhaling my scent. I looked at my pale fleshy form skeptically. But then I just stretched my arms across the pillows and lay back and let him do his thing as my meat slowly swelled into what he needed.

I can't give a blow-by-blow of this. All I can say is, this was pure mutual body worship. He shook and trembled and made my dick feel like heaven. We stared at each other's bodies and stroked them in wonder and sucked face and pounded against each other and I drove him crazy with my face in his awesome, awesome ass, dimpled at the tops, emphasized by beautiful streaks of muscle down his back aimed right at his crack. Tongues and noses and hands, beard brushed against ear, lips buried in bush, fingers exploring a thick meaty cleft in heroic buttocks. I returned to eating the ass and time slipped away. And I stuck my dick in him and he took me with no resistance and cried out over and over, "You're inside my body man, you're inside my fucking body." And we fucked so beautifully and just looked at each other and laughed and laughed. "I am going to fall in love with you man," he kept saying. "I can't believe how good you are fucking me. You are giving me everything I need." He looked... God, I can't even say how he looked there, those limbs, that chest, that hair, that raging-hard boner that never went down and only got bigger as I rammed against his prostate. "I love you I love you" he finally said as I pushed his legs back far, to allow me to press my whole body against his as I drilled my hips into him and brushed my lips against his brows, held his face in my hands. I could only laugh. It wasn't love, of course, it was something there was no word for. He looked into my eyes and I looked into his and we laughed and laughed, and the laughing expressed it all better than the word "love" did. Or the words "Gosh gee bob," which he had a ridiculous tendency to also say, and which only made ME "love" HIM more. I rammed the living daylights out of this fucking handsome stud and he said "Oh gosh gee bob. It's like beating off from the inside."

He repeatedly begged me not to cum, to slow down, to cool off, to make it last. I kept getting up to turn the AC down lower and lower. He reared up on his knees at the bed at the edge of the bed and his dick was proudly displayed. "I know I'm a top and all," I said, "but it's time to suck this." And I worshipped that fucking tool like it was Ahura Mazda. And then we curled together six by nine and penetrated each other equally with our fucksticks. And I stuck it back in his warm wet depth and gosh gee bob and I love you and ha ha ha holy fuck this is so fucking good.

And finally I had to pop all over him. I could have cum in him and maybe he wouldn't have cared. But I wanted to show him how much he would make me cum. I wanted him covered in me. And I plastered him and he said "Good God that smacked me in the face dude" and he wiped my cum on his hand and fisted his tool with it. He clearly needed some time to catch up. I held his body close to mine and felt him try to force himself over the edge with sweaty muscularity. He was soaked with all my fluids, sweat, spit, cum. It took him a while but I didn't care. What set him over the edge was me putting my hand on his pubes, with that tool poking up between my thumb and forefinger, my fingertips probing down behind his beautiful nuts, and telling him, "You're beautiful dick is so fucking hard, you're so fucking hard for me, so beautiful," and he erupted all over himself, a huge load of his own.

"You're a fucking monster," he said, "and I'm a cum bucket." He looked down at himself with awe. We held each other and talked as the cum turned runny and became extremely fragrant-- almost disgustingly so. We talked and talked and the cum stank more and more. We were so happy. I finally got a washcloth and wiped him off. And we couldn't stop touching and kissing and talking and laughing.

We took a shower together. We soaped each other up and talked about our partners and our aging parents and how much we desired each other and how glad we were to do this. There wasn't much time left but we kept lingering over every step of getting dry, getting dressed, getting out. As I was putting on my clothes, he looked me up and down appraisingly. "It's funny," he said, "when I first saw you, you're dressed all... hip and trendy." I was actually just wearing some tan cords, bright yellow Chucks with black laces, and a blue and green striped polo with a bright orange collar that looks, uh, flattering on me? I'd studiously traded it for a different striped sweatshirt I wore earlier in the day that I decided made me look too much like a regular on Zoom, so it was funny that my look still registered as too out there for this country dude. "I was like, I hope this is the same guy from the pictures, cuz I wanted those hairy, meaty legs." I smirked and wrapped myself around him for the thousandth time, kissing him deeply. He confessed he liked the shoes. We were from different planets, really.

"It would be too, too dangerous for us to live in the same town," he said there at the end, not sounding too wistful but maybe he was. I wondered what would happen in another life, were I single, and had met him. I wondered about all the things that had to lead up to this kind of an encounter. I didn't feel the weird pang and desire to push things further that I've felt in similar situations, and which the eloquent Bruce talked about recently, exposing myself to me. It was just a perfect experience. I felt a pure, overwhelming gratitude. I don't know who or what I am thanking. But... FUCK. Thanks!

The handsome dork and I exchanged a few more sexy texts through the evening. He told me he was going to fantasize about this endlessly and beat off at least two more times tonight. Those huge balls of his must drive him crazy with lust. I'm truly honored he let me in.

Gosh gee bob!


  1. Replies
    1. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, Loki... unless that day happened to be yesterday!

  2. Nothing says hip and trendy more than textured frabric. Ha! I always thought of cords as more classic than anything. I just don't wear them because I have a habit of turning around to see who's following me when it's just that my pants are noisy.

    1. I think it was probably my poorly-calculated shirt that got him, actually. I just thought it was funny that I had intended to de-kookify myself, because he looked so conventionally handsome and kept talking about how "masculine" I seem, and I ended up making him hesitate anyway. There've been some times in Brooklyn for sure when I suddenly had the opportunity to go fuck somebody while wearing something rather fancy and wished I could go home and change-- I definitely put on stuff up there I wouldn't put on down here. I'm not a hipster or anything but I do like to wear fun stuff sometimes. I always feel like I gotta tone myself down a bit for an assignation, somehow. But down here in the south I probably look alien to half these guys. More than one has commented on my "style". Most only seem to decide they like it *after* I fuck them!