I often repeat on here that I love being a top, and I do-- for me, my overflowing, tender love of the male face and body leads to a reflexive desire to ram my turgid meat into it over and over and over. It's a beautiful thing. I'm not on some trip to be more masculine than I feel inside, I'm not interested in having a slave to cater to my whims or submit to me. I just love dudes, that fuckin them is how I express it. But despite all this, perhaps surprisingly, pretty much my favorite part of the male body-- with close runners-up being the hands, legs, nose, and shoulders-- is the dick. I'm a top, but I'm still gay! There is nothing more beautiful and more mesmerizing to me than a beautiful dick. I love fucking hung guys, especially when they stay hard during the fucking, so I can admire their piece while I'm reaming their backside with my own. I love checking out a dude's ass, but if a guy has a strongly visible dick straining against his pants, I will be rapt and completely unable to take my eyes away. When faced with a closeup of a particularly beautiful one on some porn blog, hidden among all the writhing bodies and limbs and ecstatic, handsome faces, I stop and just stare at it helplessly. I really love cock. This started when I was very young-- some of my earliest memories, weirdly enough, are of looking around at everyone IN CHURCH (back when my mom was still taking us, and going herself), and wondering what all the men's and boys' dingalings looked like (that was the word of choice in early 70s South Carolina, where I was living when I was very little). I gazed endlessly at the bulges of the hairy dudes in the underwear ads in People magazine in the early 80s. And before I ever actually had sex with anyone, I felt sure I was a bottom; I was attracted to nothing as much as a huge hairy dude with a giant prong and figured I just wanted such dudes to ream the fuck out of me. Well, things changed once I started getting my hands on dudes.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Then again, sometimes sex just fucking flows. There is nothing between your pleasure and your body and your partner's body and your partner's pleasure. And today I got that with The Really Handsomelich German Cocksucker. I spent the morning cruising for raw ass and waiting for a very late contractor to show up and give me an estimate; no one much was biting so I went to get lunch on the southern end of my neighborhood, not far from TRHGC's place, and he saw me close by on Scruff and invited me over to get my dick sucked. I back-burnered him a little bit as I had my lunch-- we are having sex an awful lot lately-- and then got played on Manhunt by a hot ass in Chelsea who was not for real but got me seriously boned right there in the restaurant. So I figured, what the hell, I'll go let this extremely good looking guy take care of my needs. And it was awesome, despite being like our fifth or sixth time hooking up. There is just no substitute for good chemistry. And good looks.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Last night I spent an hour and a half with legs splayed, arms outstretched and slack, head tipped back, eyes closed, cock turgid, while a hairy cumfreak slobbered all over my groin, eagerly getting me close to orgasm, then obeying when I said to back off, waiting to sense the feeling had subsided, then working my dick again to the precum-ozzing brink, over and over. I came so hard when I finally gave in to the pleasure that my balls were sore for almost an hour afterward. Dude cleaned me out completely.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Today was another of these I-really-just-need-to-get-off days I've been having so many of lately; I was out of commission all last week with a crazy allergy/cold combination that seemed to engulf the entire east coast, and work has been pretty brutal, so my poor testicles have been overloaded indeed with their daily production going unspent for over a week. Infuriatingly, a very good-looking guy who hit *me* up on BBRTs, sent *me* his number, asked *me* if he could come over immediately, and told *me* he'd be over in 10 or 15 minutes, suddenly clammed up, and when prodded 20 minutes later told me "Oh I'm still waiting for them to bring my car up." I pointed out that he'd told me he was leaving quite a while before, and he said, "I did leave, my car just isn't ready." Of course then I never heard from again; are these people also lying to themselves, as well as me? Did he really think he was still coming, and just waiting for his car to be "brought up" (from below the earth's mantle, apparently)? Ugh! But this frustration put my horniness into overdrive. Unfortunately, work was still busy and no one was biting. Towards the end of the day, I hit on a furry, extremely cute, visiting British guy in Hell's Kitchen. We did some back and forth, and he demurred on a raw fuck, saying he likes it but prefers to know the top better first. I thought I'd scared him off, but I told him, "Hell, I'd be happy just making out with you and humping all over you-- you're extremely cute." He rather unexpectedly took me up on my offer-- he was of a type that is never interested in me, so I was surprised. His hotel was waaaay on the west side, about 4 long blocks from the nearest subway. He said as long as I could get up there in enough time for him to be ready at 6:30 for dinner, I could come by. I wavered back and forth-- it was far to go and I had to meet my own partner around that time as well, but had a lot further to go than my Brit friend did. I don't do well with time pressure. He'd said Thursday or Friday were also options, but I thought, if I don't fool around with this guy now, I probably never will get another chance. Feeling irresponsible, I told him yes. He texted me the details and I ran to the train.