web log analysis Confessions of a Promiscuous Top: Looks

Thursday, December 12, 2013


Today I jizzed a gallon down the tentative, gentle throat of a very nerdy, uptight hispanic dude. The really cute guy in Chelsea who made a big show last night of inviting me over for a lunchtime tryst of course ignored my message today asking when. There were no cocksuckers to be found except out-of-towners, who were crawling all over me for some reason. Jerking off with a big ass in my face last night, but not ejaculating, had my nuts particularly swollen and in need of shedding their cum. I was getting absolutely nowhere and about to give up for the day when this hairy, rather geeky looking dude hit me up-- a roommate of mine in grad school used to describe such guys as looking like they'd "really enjoy a baloney sandwich." I knew any number of dorks like this in Junior High, because that was, sadly, my milieu, inasmuch as I had one. My own friends were on the very fringes of tolerability, but *their* friends were just like this guy: players of Dungeons and Dragons, wearers of unflattering glasses, nonstandard weird formal footwear, gargantuan book bags inexplicably stuffed with stuff that I never particularly found necessary to bring to class, and always, always that cast to the mouth, the protruding lips, the visible teeth, the stretched-back ever-present grimace that shows just how difficult it is for these creatures to live in this world. This guy had all this and more. But he wanted to suck the juice out of my dick, and there was something about his face that, in my cum-drowned brain, tickled a nerve somewhere; maybe if you put your thumb over this or that part of his face, he'd be kind of cute. Maybe. Honestly I just wanted to get off in another dude and he was ready and willing to drink me down. So I invited him over. And while it was not a stellar hookup, something about him really did have my dick hard as a fucking rock and singing.

He showed up, predictably, a bit dumpier than the pictures, and balder. I realized as he came in the room-- after assessing all the geekiness he was exuding-- that what I liked about him was his nose. He had a big beaky nose. Gets me every time. I made some small talk while he started unwrapping his many drab layers and heaved off that absurdly bulging book bag, and he responded meekly and tersely. I asked if he needed some water or something and he looked absolutely perplexed by this nicety. "So let's just get right down to it then," I said, and he nodded, and looked at the floor. I led him back to the bedroom.

Well, he was a really nice kisser-- he was one of those guys who did a lot of tongue, but he didn't just stick it in my mouth like a numb, slimy index finger, the way most tongue-kissers do, nor did he wiggle it around in a distracting and unsexy way. He just gave me a lot of tongue and sought out mine. His baloney-eating lips were actually very sensuous and silky to kiss. I was getting into it.

Funny thing about looks. People are often much more attractive close up than they are far away, somehow. What is this? Perhaps that close up you admire the clarity of their eyes, the deep rich color of their hair and eyebrows, the warm flush tones of their skin, the position and shape of the eyebrows. Close up you are not appraising the same way; close up there is intimacy, maybe the desire to see what's really there. This guy looked really good close up, surprisingly. I suddenly felt a little less desperate.

And let me tell you, with a dick in his mouth, this nerd looked positively hot. Whatever tension the non-nerd world permanently impressed on his face melted away completely when he was between my legs, feasting on my tubesteak, luxuriating in the scent of the hair in my groin, stroking his face across my balls. His face grew longer, more serious, more manly, more sensuous. It was fairly dark in the room, so I pulled the desk lamp gooseneck around and sort of put him in the spotlight. I noticed the warm caramel and ruddy tones of his skin for the first time; his name was Latino but he barely looked it when I first saw him-- again, all I could see was dork-- but there nestled in my crotch, clearly his element, his face was transformed into the face of another, almost dashing man. At first he seemed rather shy with how I intently watching him work me over, but then he clearly got into it, and held my gaze steadily and, if not defiantly, completely unflinchingly. His eyes were a perfect deep brown, dark enough to almost swallow the pupils but not quite; his eyebrows had an arch and gloss to them that made my dick hard as a rock. His scruffy angular chin and the dark stubble on his lip were very sexy. He could barely get half my dick in his mouth without gagging, so this was definitely not the best head I ever had. But this transformation had me unusually excited.

We kissed a lot and I eventually got him on his back, with another bedside lamp, coming from the other side, illuminating his face interrogation-style as I rammed my rock-hard bone against his hairy, toasty tan body. "I just wanna fuck you," I kept saying, staring into his eyes, "Looking at your face just makes me want to fuck the hell out of you." He liked this, but it also made him shy. He grinned the kind of grin I expect all nerds do when the pretty girl (and it doesn't take a lot to look pretty to a nerd) decides she likes him. I myself had a pretty girl who liked ME when I was a nerd. Maybe I smiled like this then. He smiled like that now. He kept stroking my body, my legs, and staring at the hair pattern on my gut as he licked and nibbled at my rod, occasionally saying, "You are so *smokin hot*" and shaking his head. "Your body feels so good." He smelled fresh like laundry soap, but also warm and animal. His body hair was soft and dark.

I toyed with just ramming my choad in him and popping without scruple. I licked a finger and tested his hole-- it opened a bit to let me in, but there was, shall we say, no room in the inn back there-- I don't think he was quite *prepared* of ass-fucking. But I would have loved to drill him looking at that face. The body was eh, the ass itself, which I ate for a little bit, was eh, but at this point I was pretty gone on his face.

My balls were certifiably blue at this point. "You're going to swallow my cum, right?" I asked, and as he had his mouth full at the time, he just nodded and made a little "m hm" sound. He could really only basically lick my dickhead and suck all around there; he needs some dick sucking lessons, I think. But he kept it up and I started firing with just my dickhead in his mouth, and his grunts were helpless and ecstatic with wonder as he felt me turn liquid on his tongue. I reached down-- this was simultaneously too much sensation (on the head) and not enough (on the shaft)-- so I had to touch myself for the orgasm not to be sheer agony. With just my fingertips I felt the cumtube swell with each shot, I felt my shaft harden and jerk and slacken, I felt the whole thing pulsing between my body and his mouth, and it was actually very exciting. My dick is pretty hot when it's ejaculating if I do say so myself. But I finally said, rather gruffly, "Let go," and my dick popped out and I vigorously fisted myself through the end of my orgasm to get that warm enveloped feeling I needed to finish. More cum beaded at my cumhole and he just kept saying "Wow wow wow" and eagerly licking at it, and when I let go because I had finally completely gotten off, he slurped it down a bit more and got out the last drops of cum.

"I need to lay down for a second," he said, and I put my arm around him and we were quite still for a while, breathing in the indirect light of the bedside lamps. I knew he worked in SoHo and lived way uptown, so I asked if he'd been to my neighborhood before and he said he had, the week before, to go to this giant record store that inexplicably opened a few blocks away. So we talked a little about music; I was surprised that we had anything to talk about in this respect; I had already completely stereotyped him. But I guess he was rather cool in some way. He certainly wasn't like a nerdy hipster. He was just nerdy. But he liked some unexpected music. I was surprised. His spanish accent was also suddenly more evident. Interesting.

I offered him another drink as he got dressed, and he said, "I have a good taste in my mouth." He pulled on a wool cap and put on those horrible wire-frame glasses and looked ordinary and nerdy and pinched again. He thanked me and trotted out awkwardly, taking all my cum with him. I'm sure no one on the subway would look at him twice thinking about what he'd just done or how I'd felt while he did it. He keeps his handsome little sex demon buried deep, deep inside.

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