web log analysis Confessions of a Promiscuous Top: Small Disappointments and Pleasant Surprises

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Small Disappointments and Pleasant Surprises

Tonight, after an insane amount of online cruising, wheedling, and frustration, I let go the week's worth of cum I've stored up since my last session with Ultra Meat. I'm back in my hometown for the coming weeks-- hopefully with an end in sight, as my mom has improved a good bit and is making noises like she wants to live alone again, like she did before-- and the guys here are being southern men at their worst: "discreet", cagey, prick-teasing, eternally unable to host, and generally not-that-physically-attractive and thus not-really-even-worth-the-trouble. It seems I can always count on the little hardbody; we're supposed to fuck tomorrow, so I knew I had to do something about my balls today, which had gone way past blue and into the ultraviolet range. Somehow I felt something *had* to work out today; I couldn't imagine beating off alone in my mom's spare bedroom. But yesterday is when I had started searching in earnest, and the hunt was pathologically intense; I was almost driven insane by the frustration of dealing with all the useless guys I was dealing with. My favorite was the guy I spent twenty minutes msging with on BBRTS last night, parked in the parking lot of a famously gaudy megachurch here which happened to be convenient to pull into when I saw he'd hit me up, who said he was a total cumhound and was in love with my pictures and wanted it wanted it wanted it, and then told me, when we exchanged locations, that it was "a lil too far tonight, buddy", even though *I* was the one traveling, and I could be there in 25 minutes, and didn't think it was too far myself! Eesh. Tonight's cocksucker didn't seem very promising at first; he has hit me up repeatedly but has no pix online, took forever to reply to messages, sent bizarrely overscaled ones to my email when he finally did send them, and looked a little on the bulky side for my tastes. He never got off work till 9pm, lived in a city to the west that I will always think of as the hometown of the front man of a shitty Nu Metal band in the 90s and a high-ranking murder-and-drug capital, about a 35 minute drive away. Not exactly ideal. But once I'd encouraged him even a little he was relentless, and msged me on Adam4Adam right after I got off work today saying he was home early. I looked more closely at the face pic, which had initially seemed weirdly cropped but apparently was just too big to display properly on my phone. He was pretty nice looking! I asked him my standard "Are you willing to suck my dick for as long as I say?" question and he said "Sure thing boss." Music to my ears! I made sure my mom was squared away for the night, hopped in my car, and drove over, to find small disappointments and some very pleasant surprises.

I got to his apartment complex pretty quickly, which looked weirdly like some of the independent hotel complexes I've seen in places like Wyoming or rural Oregon-- rather crappy old buildings arranged haphazardly around a little pine-studded campus that was rather the worse for the wear. There were a lot of satellite dishes stuck at funny angles to the buildings and lines of washing hanging here and there. I felt a little like I was in a very wealthy hobo camp. He lived in apartment J, but it was hard to tell the logic to how the units were labeled on all the levels, so I walked around his building peering at all the doors. A young woman barged out of one of the lower units, calling to someone inside, waving a cigarette in one hand, a plastic tumbler of what was almost definitely bourbon in the other, with a big pink towel wrapped around her hair exactly like I remember my mom doing in the 70s. I thought yikes, where the fuck am I. But I asked the woman, "Which apartment is J, do you know?" She peered at me doubtfully, then decided I was all right despite my fluorescent green Tyvek loafers, and said, "I have no idea! Hold on." And she went back to the door and called in, "Hey! Hey!" Another older woman came out, and Trixie Turbana asked her, "Which apartment is J? J? Apartment *J*!!" She kept badgering the woman until the the latter finally shrugged and said she had no clue either. I thanked them kindly and texted the dude, and he told me which unit-- way up two flights of stairs on the opposite corner. I tottered up these warped wooden planks and around the corner to a rather ratty-looking unit with a bunch of crap right outside the door. My sweet lord, I thought, what am I doing? And I bravely knocked.

The door flew open to reveal a guy who was fairly tubby, but had muscular arms and wide shoulders, and a face that looked almost exactly like a young Woody Harrelson with a very close buzz cut. I was disappointed that he was so much rounder than his body shots had been. But his face was much handsomer than the pic he sent-- I am a sucker for Woody Harrelson, I must say (my partner thinks this reveals some kind of mental defect in me, but so be it), and this guy was a dead ringer. His teeth were conspicuously, brilliantly white. I was charmed. So I walked in, almost tripped over three cats, and gave him a kiss on those lips! It was like kissing WOODY FUCKING HARRELSON! He seemed surprised at the quality of my kiss, whatever it was, but he kissed me back and grinned hugely. He was just ridiculously cute to me. So I said, "Are you ready to suck some dick?" and he said he sure was and I asked him where and he pointed to a polar-fleece-draped cocksucking chair-- a recliner of some sort. "Make yourself comfortable," he said, and I pulled off my shorts and opened my legs and let him have access to my goods. The light was very low with a few candles here and there and a nightlight giving the only illumination; nice. But a radio was playing Prince's "Let's Go Crazy", which is not a great song for getting into the mood in my opinion. It was one of those radio stations here that play an entire spectrum of "famous" music-- at one point I heard Cyndi Lauper caterwauling her way through "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and then I swear they played a Coldplay song or maybe an Interpol song, something very weird. It was a little distracting at first, as were the cats who, at one point, were clawing at the recliner I was getting blown in, giving my pleasure an extra, exotic texture from the slight vibrations.


HOLY FUCK could this dude suck dick!

I didn't care about the distractions. He was awesome. He started out kissing my calves, my feet, my inner thighs, and rubbing his face in my pubes before I was fully hard. He licked my sore, aching, ultraviolet balls. I watched my meat animate itself as he unhurriedly showed me who was king with his attentions. It bounced against his face with each heartbeat but he didn't take the bait right away, he just licked me different places and inhaled deeply. And finally he did take my in his mouth and gave me a pressure that was almost excruciatingly almost-perfect, a little too light, but it's exactly what I needed. My nuts were groaning under the strain of so much cum and thwarted chances to squirt. They needed just a little more teasing, but with just the right amount of TLC, and he was doing both, almost psychically. He cupped them and bounced them slowly as he ran my dick into and out of his velvety throat, and they sighed with pleasure.

He pulled off his shirt and his skin had been slathered, like half the men down here, in some kind of lotion. His nipples were exquisitely sensitive, as were his ears; I couldn't stop pulling him up off my tool so I could kiss him or even just stare at him as he stroked my dickhead with his hand. And after we kissed and I got achy-drunk from looking at the handsome shapes of his facial features, I would just rub my beard helplessly against his neck, scented lightly with some kind of cologne, and then stroke it all the way up past his jaw to his ear, and brushing it over his ear and breathing gently against made him shudder and made his nipples harden right under my fingers, like tiny dicks. Very exciting. We took turns with each other-- him sucking me until I felt like the whole rest of my body was a liquid passing through my dick into his mouth, and then me stroking my beard over his ear and slowly tonguing the whorls of cartilage, probing the bristly hole, and licking the soft skin behind his ear. Again the nipples were hard and firm from the attention. I pulled back and looked deep into his eyes, and his head fell onto my chest and he said, "You definitely know what you're doing." I'm glad he thought so, because I didn't want him to stop sucking my fucking dick.

And he didn't. An hour passed with me clutching his hard bulging bicep and meaty hands every time he got me to the edge and held me there and made me dizzy and light-headed and then tapered off, sending me zig-zagging back to the ground like a feather on a breeze. I simultaneously desperately wanted to cum and desperately wanted not to cum. It was incredible torture.

After a long period where we just sat there with our faces pressed together, breathing in each other's exhalation, and exhaling into each other's lungs, with my fingers flicking at his long hard nips, and his spit-slicked hand working my dickhead and shaft perfectly, he sat up and asked, "Do you want to go lay down before I get you off?" I loved the way he talked, I loved that he wanted to do that, as it really is my favorite way to cum, lying back with him spread out between my thighs rather than propped up in a La-Z-Boy as it's clawed by a black and white tabby. I said yes and stood up, and he grasped my erection and actually led me by it all the way to his bedroom. He was totally naked at this point-- not sure when he took his shorts off-- and I could see his body was really quite heavy and his dick quite small and jutting out from his body. If he'd been built it probably would have been too much; not being particularly into his body made his face all that much more radiant to me, somehow. And that is cool for a cocksucker who likes to kiss. With those guys, I am often all about the face.

Disappointingly, the bedroom reeked of cat pee. But I lay back and he reached up under my thighs to anchor himself to me, and he expertly sucked the fuck out of me till I completely lost it and pretty much wasn't aware of my surroundings at all any more. It was a slow-motion tsunami. The orgasm started in my eyes, a pained tension behind my eyes that washed down my face, into my chest, down my back, into my nuts, which he'd been expertly tugging at as he worked my dickhead into taking command of my whole body. Once in my nuts it picked up steam, and pushed itself out of my dick with irresistible force. I came, hard, into his mouth, two huge jets. It was incredibly beautiful, I felt like I had the best dick and balls in the world, and was letting fly the most delicious, voluminous ejaculate any man had ever produced.

And then he popped me out of his mouth! He jerked me with a hand that was gooey as an ectoplasm; all I felt was slime all over my dick, my pubes, his hand, his mouth, the bed, everything. And I was still coming but he was jerking me too hard and too close to my cumhole, making my dick scream with overstimulation; I grabbed my dick away from him and fisted it closer to the base, deeply disappointed that I was cumming in the cold air instead of in his handsome, beautiful, velvety mouth. But I beat off until the goo stopped coming. It was a disappointment, but he had given me an almost insane amount of pleasure. If it was too much cum for him, it was too much.

He got me a towel and cleaned me up with gingerly, very pleasant motions. And then he held my balls, which still felt awfully swollen and big, while he talked to me a little. I think we formally introduced ourselves at that point; till then I hadn't known his name. And then he went down and put my still very thick dick into his mouth and gently sucked me while still massaging my aching, rather painful nuts, until they were loose and soothed. "I am loving this fantastic nut massage you're giving me," I said boozily, drunk on my own manhood. "Nothing better than a good nut massage!" he said, not stopping for quite some time. And then, "Do you mind standing at the edge of my bed and feeding your cock down my throat and resting your balls on my face and playing with my nipples while I jerk off?" He said it like it was all one word, and I kinda shook my head like Scooby Doo, and said, "Wait, what? That sounded kind of complicated." He laughed and said he'd show me, it wasn't complicated, he just wanted to cum. And we did exactly what he'd asked. It took him a long time to cum, but it was so exciting feeling his nips react to every movement my dick made in his throat and every movement my hands made on his chest, that I didn't care. And I could feel them harden more and more as he got close, and then he shot hard, all over my body from three feet away; very hot forceful jets of cum. I don't much like being cum on but it was sort of fun. His legs had tensed up right before he shot and I noticed how hard and huge his thigh muscles were. He was packing some serious muscle under that bulk of his.

This time I toweled him off, and we talked a good bit about my hometown, a half hour down the road, where used to live for several years, coincidentally right across the highway from the development where I grew up myself. The apartment complex he lived in, like the neighborhood I grew up in, had turned skidzy with meth-labs and Section 8 gun drama, and he had to move. I wasn't sure his current complex was better, but maybe they were decent folks even if it was a shabby place.

I petted the cats, who seemed to love me, and listened to him talk, gazing at him stupidly like he really was Woody Harrelson. His brilliant teeth kept flashing in the dark. God, he was cute.

And God, I love my dick. I love sex. What a redeeming experience!


  1. Man oh man, I do love a good cocksucker. Mock it if you will, but I believe every home should have a fleece covered BJ chair, Lazy-boy or Bark-a-lounger, whatever.

    As for the cats, not so much.

    Funny stuff man.

    1. Recliners skeeze me out, and the texture of polar fleece also skeezes me out-- it feels like a microbe-catcher, and I hate the way it kinda sinks your skin into it. The combination was almost too much... but what I won't do for good head from a good-lookin guy!

      Thanks for the compliment, Jack-o.

  2. I love this blog. Aside from the fact that you write beautifully (I suspect you do it for a living), there's absolutely nothing sexier than a top who loves being a top.

    Except maybe a smart "40-something, average looking" top who loves being a top.

    1. Well thanks AC! I always wanted to be a writer, and have had a few things published here and there in ridiculous, un-prestigious places, but I don't actually write for a living.

      I'm very happy to hear you enjoy reading this, though, and really appreciate your comment. I'll keep fucking so you always have something to read!