web log analysis Confessions of a Promiscuous Top: Doling It Out

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Doling It Out

Today I deeply and copiously inseminated Stinky and Remote-- a guy whose face is so beautiful to me that it utterly melts me, but who I never hook up with because (1) he's popular and busy, and (2) very hard to get to by subway even though he's directly across the river, because of his extreme Lower East Side location, and (3) I'm a filthy promiscuous whore who insists on always ejaculating in someone new, despite the fact that there are beauties like this one out there wanting my dick in them pretty much whenever they can get it.  Looking through my blog to find the entry to link to above, I see I haven't been with him since March of last year. And ironically, the thing I expressed worry about there *did* sort of happen... a few months after that last hookup, he vanished from all the hookup sites. A little later, he improbably showed up as a possible friend on Facebook, so I eagerly added him, asking what happened to him. He told me he was kind of out of the random sex game, looking for a real boyfriend. I hope he wasn't checking to see who was looking at him on facebook, because I combed through all his pictures and looked at him all the time-- he's wearing all these twee, hipstery clothes in his pictures, despite being an extremely meaty, hairy, rather brute-faced lunk of a guy, which is actually one of my favorite combinations in a way. In one he has on a dandy bowler and suspenders, and together with his miles-deep, soulful brown eyes and thick, porny mustache, the combination of all my recent fetishes on one guy makes my heart wring itself to bits in my chest and then essentially melt into my nutsack. He'd talked about selling the remote-but-close place and moving to Brooklyn, which I eagerly awaited. We never did hook up again, though, despite sending occasional dirty drive-by messages on Facebook. Sometime last fall, he reappeared on some of the sex sites, but we never connected. This morning I was carrying the load I've built up since Tuesday dealing with the knuckleheads in DC. I cruised a bit after my partner left for a day on his own, but honestly didn't have the heart to look very strenuously. When I saw Stinky and Remote's appear on line, I asked him if he wanted to suck the load out of me. He did. There was no muss and no fuss and I decided he would be an awesome welcome back to Gotham. And he was.

I only got back to NYC last night, after a week in DC enjoying my friends but going out of my mind trying to hook up with the very tantalizing guys there, none of whom could ever host, or would expect me to wait around till 1:15 in the morning, or fuck them in a sex club, and on and on. One guy with an incredible, tight, muscular body was so insistent that I decided, against all scruple and without permission, to tell him he could come over on Saturday, after my friend left town but while I still had access to his apartment. He was impatient and wanted to blow me sooner, somewhere in his car. This should have been a red flag, but his hotness and my gigantic load fogged my thinking. I told him just to wait, that I wanted to fuck the load into him properly, not get sucked off real quick in a car. He asked if he could just come see me, just come meet me, just for a minute! I thought, geesh, what a goer. And so I told him ok, I'd be working in a coffee shop a few blocks away, come meet me outside there. He drove over, showing up not much later and we did talk as he idled out front; he wore goofy bro-ey shades the whole time, and was rather queeny, but his tight little body looked mighty fine in his clothes, and I got a real charge out of having a normal conversation leaning in his window on a crowded street outside the coffee shop, thinking about how I'd be ramming my oozing unit into his rear the next morning and filling him with cream like an ├ęclair. Before he left I patted him on the belly and told him I'd text him the next morning when the coast was clear. He seemed a little shocked, and I couldn't tell if it was good or bad shock. So for good measure I reached up and held his scruffy little chin in my hands, stared into his eyes, and told him I looked forward to fucking him. And he drove off. And I thought, hm, I dunno if I'm gonna hear from him again. He seemed awfully "pretty" and gay-sceney to be attracted to someone like me.

Surprisingly, he texted at 8 the next morning, eager to get my cum in him. We exchanged a couple of flirty texts as I waited for my friend to get ready and leave, and I mentioned that if he wanted the maximum load he'd have to let me have at his hot little body for a good while. "So let me have my way with that ass as much as I like, man." He balked, saying he had to work, had to go to the gym, yadda yadda. I thought this was ridiculous, after all the talking and meeting. Clearly he was just a load collector. "I only cum for dudes who are willing to make me feel really good," I sniffed stiffly, adding, "Sorry." He just said OK and then vanished for a good while. I was deeply annoyed, but figured it was par for the course. An hour later he whined about how disappointing it was because he wanted my cum so bad, and wistfully added that he was sure someone else would be getting it good. I didn't bother to reply, and just left town.

So I was pretty frustrated when I got here. Luckily, Stinky but Remote never disappoints, even though he's well-plowed ground. I showed up at his building and he was already outside, talking on the phone and smoking a cigarette. On facebook I'd seen some pix that made me worry he'd gained weight and lost muscle, but except for more of a gut than I remembered, and maybe less thick arms, he looked awesome. His head, neck, beard, nose, and eyebrows are like caveman-sexy. He was listening intently with a nice smile on his thick lips to whoever was on the phone, and only gestured to me to follow him into his building silently, and I followed. He listened for a long time, and then with that clear, strikingly soft but undeniably attractive voice, said into the phone, "Wow, I would not have expected anything like that. Hey, I'm about to get into the elevator now, can I call you back in a little bit?" And waited a little and said goodbye and hung up. The elevator doors opened and I chided, "A *little* bit?" slapping his ass to punctuate the word. Then, with more smacks, I said, "Don't you mean, 'After I give this guy a two *smack* hour *smack* epic *smack* blow job? *smack*'" He smiled and said, "Maybe."

When we got to his apartment-- which looked a lot nicer than it ever did, since he'd fixed it up to sell it-- He peeled off his clothes instantly and went for mine. His gigantic fat tool was pointing straight out. His fleshy nipples were at attention in his forest of chest hair. His body was apelike and incredibly sexy to me. God. He pulled off all my clothes and palmed my rubbery dick while he fisted his own fat truncheon, and we brushed our lips together. He was as usual extremely shy when I looked, apparently too nakedly, into his eyes, which are basically just fuckpools of fuckdesire to me. Whenever I see him in the flesh, I want to blurt out, "ILOVEYOUILOVEYOU OHMYGOD IFUCKINGLOVEYOU." Of course I don't love him; I barely know him. But fuck, I love him.

I couldn't stand the anticipation any more so I just said, "Get on your knees and suck me," pushing on his shoulders, and he said "Yes sir" and gulped away at my instantly hardening meat with a hungry, feral tongue, and grunts of animal pleasure. It was a bit of a put-on but it was real, too. He clearly loves my dick. After several minutes of tender admiration of his beautiful atavistic male form and ramming my tool into his skull, he hopped up and said, "Let's go to the MIRRORED AREA," which is over by his bathroom and had been recently painted all black. He always takes me to this area at the point where he's getting hot and heavy and I always kinda hate it, because I look like such a pasty slob next to his robust, swarthy hirsuiteness. But this time I sat back and just admired the unbelievable beauty of my tool slithering in and out of his thick lips. My nuts were aching and we just stared at ourselves in the mirror as he worked my tool expertly. He is so incredibly hot. His ass was sticking out in an extremely inviting way, so I eventually had to pry his head out of my lap and fall to the floor to worship it. It was fresh, clean, and tasty, unlike his extremely ripe pits. After just a minute of licking all the curves and clefts of his hindquarters, despite my insistent urgent load boiling in my nuts and threatening to pop any minute, I knew I had to fuck him. He had some Gun Oil so I lubed up with it and slowly sunk my inches into him, deep as I could go, straining the muscles between my legs to lengthen my bone and make the dickhead swell deep in his guts on the extreme end of the in-stroke, and his wail and groan let me know he felt it. And then I pulled it all the way out till it left his warm, humid depths, and hung throbbing in the air outside his hole, glistening with his juices. I would admire his beautiful round hairy buttocks and my angry red wet erection. And then slide it right back in, all the way, strained and flaring and throbbing up to the hilt in him again, and more groaning and wailing and head lolling. I kept it up over and over, till I felt like I would cum. And then I mounted him high and just held it in, hard, all muscles clenched, waiting for the urge to squirt everything I had subsided. "Just let me get past it, just let me get past it, just let me get past..." I pleaded into his ear, and he pushed his body back into mind and held still. And then I plowed him hard and he wailed and moaned and told me how good my dick felt inside him. That beautiful, beautiful face reflected in the mirror, eyes closed, dripping with sweat from the pleasure of being drilled just how he likes it. I let my hands slowly spread over his buttocks, slowly wrap around his hip-bones, slowly slide down the inside of his flexed thighs, slow exploration of his skin in contrast to the firm drilling my hips were transmitting into his guts. All I could think was, God, I fucking love you. My body fucking loves your body. My cum fucking loves to shoot into you. Sweet fucking god, you're sexy.

And then I couldn't hold back, and I came in him hard, and he said over and over, "Oh yeah, I feel it, oh yeah," and he clenched around my tool as the pulsing slowed down. "Milk all the cum out of me, man," I barked, and he did. I felt drops of thick slime being worked out of my cum tube and slipping into his dark inner reaches. I kept running my hands lightly over his curves as he kept mumbling about my cum.

I pulled out and stood up, laughing at the pleasure of release and my stupid good luck in having this lunk of sex be inexplicably attracted to me. He instantly turned around, dropped to his knees again, and sucked and sucked at my dick, making it lengthen to its full extent again, making me feel like I could cum in him again. I pulled at his thick, bubblegum-like nips and he groaned and rolled his head around with delight. In one set of mirrors I saw the incredible sight of his beautiful muscular body propping up his bobbing bald head, right in the middle of my groin. Living porn sucking me off. I really wanted to cum, to make him happy. But I can't cum over and over like that. I thought he might beat himself off, but he didn't. He just didn't want it to end. He popped my dick out of his mouth and instead rubbed his face in the mat of fuzz on my stomach while I cradled the back of his head with one hand and flicked his nip with the other. "Your dick feels so good in my ass," he cooed into my belly-button, while he made long slow milking tugs at my thick, hard, but blank-loaded tool. Many people say they want to worship my dick, but this guy really worships it. I honestly feel like a god with him. Who knows what I've done to deserve this.

Finally it was over. I rinsed off and when I came out he was dressing again, and we chatted amiably about his inability to find anything affordable to buy in Brooklyn-- it was so expensive he decided to stay in Manhattan and just get a bigger place there! I expressed disappointment that we wouldn't have him on our side of the river. I longed to just hear him talk endlessly; seeing this animalistic body and that brutal face producing that sweet, gentle voice was basically yanking all the nerves out of my cerebellum, stretching them like taffy, and throwing them on the floor in a happy jumble. I just wanted to push him to the floor and ram the fuck out of him again. But then he would not be talking again. He does not email much, does not chat on facebook, is often cagey when we talk in person. He doles himself out to me as slowly as I dole my ejaculate out to the bottoms of the world. He makes me work for it. And I want it so bad. And I can't have it. He walked me to the elevator and I gave him the brief form of my story with my mother and trip down south. He made genuine sympathetic noises but I could not tell what he was really thinking, and he grew even quieter. Then he turned around and rammed his ass up against me, as the elevator went down, asking, "Did you fuck any bottoms down there?" He makes my head spin. When we got to the ground floor I stuck my face in his neck and said, "I love putting my dick in you." And he said, "Welcome back to New York." And we went our separate ways. After walking a half a block, I turned back, half-hoping he would turn back too. But he was already somewhere else, ambling along with his head tilted down to look at the phone in his meaty palm.

I don't even know what I want from him-- I have a husband, I barely know him, all we do is fuck and talk a little. But fuck, I want it, whatever it is. I don't even know what I'd do with it. But his body's not enough. Maybe he'll dole a little more out to me, somehow.


  1. this post isn't just inspired, it's on fire

    1. He's the kind of guy who lights fires, Invis! But of course now that I've fucked him again, I realize there's all these other dudes out there... and... well, I gotta fuck them, too. And...well... who knows when I'll be with him again.