web log analysis Confessions of a Promiscuous Top: Velvet Hipster

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Velvet Hipster

Today I glazed with thick gooey cum the long, sweet body of a quasi-hipster here in Washington, DC. I'm slowly making my way home from down south and have stopped off for the week to visit friends and, admittedly, sample from a pool of men I haven't fucked in much for a few years. Sadly there are a *lot* of guys here who are still on, still using the exact same pictures they had when I lived here four years ago. And some of them have even hit me up! But there does look to be a good bit of new meat. The guys here are much more whitebread than they are in NYC, but the conservative, well-groomed look does still have a pretty good hold on me. (When I first moved here, in my 20s, I just adored the Republican-with-the-sharp-part-in-the-hair look. I still kinda do sometimes, though I much prefer the typical Brooklyn scruffy/ethnic look.) A few of these guys hit me up but wouldn't host or ran away when I asked them to let me stick my filthy bare bone inside their pristine, muscular bodies. But this one guy hit me up seeming quite nice and together, being precise about when he'd be free to hook up and where he was and so on and so forth. He was 6'2, well over my height limit for fucking (which I really wanted to do today), but he had a handsome bearded face and buzzed head, just perfect for cocksucking. Overall he was the ottery type that I love but who is never into me back. He did warn me that he was working from home so I'd have to endure him occasionally stopping to check his work email. "But we can have sex for as long as you want otherwise," he said. Bingo! He was only about 6 blocks from the coffee shop where I was working (and eye-fucking a very cute, meaty other scruffy dude with beautiful thick thighs!) so I packed up and sauntered over for what I hoped would be a nice servicing session.

I was totally not disappointed. When I showed up he looked pretty good, not as built as in his pictures (which, come to think of it, I think might have been faked or old; he was really just average built, though nice and tight enough; he didn't have the tits of furry steel I saw in the pictures). We kissed and there was like zero chemistry. I was like eesh. I really don't respond to tall guys, which is silly but true, and his kisses were rather wooden, without much lip action, leaving me feeling rather like I was sucking on the rigid felt mouth of a Muppet. But I did like his beard and his eyes were rather soulful and smoldering in a way. I thought, well, let's try. We went to his sty of a bedroom-- clothes all over the place in heaps-- and I climbed up on his bed, pushed the gigantic ball of bedclothes onto the floor so we had a flat, unencumbered surface to work on, and asked him to get to work between my legs. "Start out nice and slow," I said, so he would not be spooked by my lack of an erection but take the cue to bring me to life in a bit of a production (which all but the worst lays actually rather enjoy, if you act like it is normal.) And he did, very slowly working his fuzzy mouth up my thighs and over my balls to the bottom of my slowly lengthening shaft. When my dickhead finally slipped into that bearded mouth, a jolt of intense pleasure ran over my body. This was one of those guys who just gave incredibly velvety, perfect head. Once I was in his mouth I was hard as a rock in a few throbbing seconds, and when he felt my dickhead expanding on his tongue he made genuinely appreciative grunts of approval and sucked at it harder-- but not too hard. He made every millimeter of my dick feel like a dick should feel. Man, he made me glad I have a dick. He ran his big, vascular, long-fingered hands all over my hairy body, stroking lightly against my hair. After a while I planted my feet on his hairy meaty thighs and slowly fucked my dick up into his mouth. Everything I did, he responded to perfectly. When he felt me bucking my hips he perfectly matched my rhythm, pushing his silky mouth down when I fucked up; slowly sliding that beautiful tongue back from shaft to head as I lowered my hips and pulled my tool out of him. FUCK that was good head.

After a long interval of staring transfixedly at his white round asscheeks raised in the air as he worked on me, I had to get down and taste. I told him to lay still, and slithered off the side of the bed and went around to lower my face into that deep, inviting cleft. But just before my nose brushed against the skin, he twisted his body aside with a start, and said, "You may not want to do that.... I didn't really have to time, uh, prepare." He'd told me he took a shower before I got there, so I assumed it was fine, but I figured he knew best what state his ass-crack was in. So I slapped it and kneaded it wistfully, and said, "Well, just let me look at it, then." He lowered himself flat again, with one leg hitched out to the side a bit, and his rear seemed to recede into an unreachable distance while I stroked it all over with my hands and lovingly brushed a fingertip along the center. I seriously wanted to sample this. But what can you do? Instead I went around side of him, stuck my dick in his mouth, and held the back of his buzzed head with one hand, and gripped one beautiful protruding chunk of butt-muscle with the other, and drilled my tool into his grateful, accepting mouth. When I flipped him on his back to grind my tool against his, it swung away from his body trailing a long, viscous sting of clear, glistening precum. I squeezed his very fat dickhead between my fingers and a gob of it appeared at his cumhole like a drop of nectar from the throat of a honeysuckle, and I put it in my mouth. Not as sweet as my own, a little cummier, but beautifully slick and sexual on my tongue.

We had an hour of extremely sensual sex, and he kept his eyes open whenever I was on top of him, staring into my face. He was not very demonstrative or noisy, but I could see in his eyes, and feel in the slickness of his constantly oozing meat, that he was in a zone of real pleasure. A nonstop indie soundtrack was playing from his computer in the other room. I must say I have found these indie/hipstery types to be awesomely attuned to me in bed. It's a shame more of them are not attracted to me... cuz they aren't. I grabbed his hand and we interlaced fingers and he sort of propped me up like that, as I pounded my body against his, with our dicks sliding together in our mutual slime. "That," he said, looking straight into my eyes, fixing me with his gaze the way his legs were fixed to mine and my hands fixed to his as well, "is awesome." And it was.

He had told me online pretty quickly that he doesn't swallow. And sticking my dick in him was a non-starter. I fingered his asshole while I ground into him, fucking his pubes, and wanted to penetrate him with an intense longing. He could feel my dick wanting to cum, I think, and he looked straight at me and asked where I wanted to unload. I reiterated my desire to cum in him, and he looked pleased, as if he just wanted to hear me beg for it again. "You can cum anywhere else you want," he said. I considered a facial, but then I decided I really just wanted to fuck the cum out of myself against his beautiful silky skin while he wrapped his thighs around my waist. So I told him, and he did, and I did, rearing up just at the last minute to allow the ropes of sexual fluid to jet out all over his torso. I wasn't cumming as hard as I often do, so the jets were not the long straight jets hitting neck, face, and wall that I really like to see myself produce. But he loved being plastered by my orgasm. "That feels GREAT," he said. "I'm GLAZED!" "Like a donut," I said, slapping his shoulder a bit, and kissing his handsome face. He lay there a while deeply satisfied with the feeling, and I stroked his gooey dick a while, but I don't think he cared much about getting off. He just wanted to look at my spooge. "Do you always cum like that??" he asked. I told him I did when I was excited. He just kept looking down at himself. "I won't lie," he said, "I really wanted you to fuck me." God, did I ever want inside him, too. But I was happy with what we did. Felt great.

I rinsed in the shower and we talked for a good while about music, and how DC has changed-- he's lived here even longer than I did. He was happy that I recognized some of his music and asked to friend me on facebook. We talked about playing the piano and being completely unable to comprehend the guitar, in exactly the same way. It was nice. But after a while, as I was yammering and yammering, he suddenly said, "I think I have to stop you there, and get back to work." I felt dumb but understood, and collected my keys and phone and things. As I was about to leave, he looked me right in the face, and said, "Basically, I need to tell you that you have, like, the PERFECT dick. It went down my throat to the base, but if it was even half an inch longer I'd be gagging on it." I love being appreciated for my dick and testicular secretions, so this was icing on the cake. We hugged and kissed one last time and I trotted out into the sunshine, feeling very fine. I'm sure all the bums in Logan Circle could tell I'd just had an awesome blowjob by a fawning admirer. Isn't it always obvious? I love my dick! I love sex! I love good cocksuckers! Ah!


  1. Sounds like an awesome time. I love the post-cum, walk down a crowded street, hair wet from a shower and that ache in your dick like you could go for it all over again. So, like our revolutionary forefather, are there going to be road signs posted that "CPT Slept here" as you work your way back to New Amsterdam?

    1. More like "CoolTop Ejaculated Here"! But that's a good idea!

      I definitely spent the rest of the afternoon wishing I was still in bed with that dude. That kind of head turns me into a blob of jelly.