Pheromone Match and Mismatch

Just sent home a super-jacked little black dude with a rear end full of all the semen I've made since last Wednesday-- and also the extra bit of juice that the Slovenly Liar worked up in me on Monday during his abortive, toothy blowjob. And that all adds up to a pretty nice load of spunk for the little guy. He was really tiny-- about 5'5 at most, maybe even shorter-- but his shoulders were like granite, and just about as wide as he was tall. He even had those crazy abs that some bodybuilder types get that make them look like they have a gut but when you touch it it's solid and unmovable. His upper body was just an extreme V shape tapering down to a round little ass. My favorite. He wasn't the cutest guy in the world but he had a nice face. I just can never resist squirting my sperm inside a short, super-built dude, so I went with it. And we had a great time together-- he loved kissing, sucking my dick, having my face in his ass, being touched and, in particular, having his ears sucked on (bonus erogenous zone! another favorite)-- and he looked fantastic with my white dick sliding in and out of him, but there was one thing missing, and it was: pheromones.

When I was younger, I remember being at a coffee shop and listening to some ugly nerd talk to another numb nuts about how he thinks he's gay because he responds to male pheromones. I found this deeply annoying, for one because, duh, maybe you're gay because you're attracted to males period (how does pheromones explain getting a boner looking at porn?), and two I never had any interest in how anybody smelled, especially when I was younger. I still have trouble with dudes who are heavy into the man stink thing. People who went on and one about pheromones bugged the crap out of me because I just couldn't relate. Of course, I also hadn't had much sexual experience at that point, either.

I remember vividly my first strong introduction to how pheromones *don't* work. Back in the days of personal ads, I met a guy in the classifieds of the local gay paper, and we met and had a super nice date. He was kind of built himself, actually, not totally my type but any reader of this blog knows how gaga I go for anybody with big shoulders and a little waist. He was just such a sweet guy, as the night got on I got more and more into him. And then I asked him home, thinking, we can make out and maybe even fuck!, but once we got on my futon (I was 27 or so), and I moved in for the initial kiss that I hoped would lead to serious face-sucking and then eventually penetration and orgasm, I was stopped short.

The dude just really kinda… kinda stank. It wasn't BO, or dirty, or anything like that. I just really didn't like his scent. And when I touched the skin of his face and neck, it felt very… viscous, almost oily, too smooth somehow, too insinuating. I kissed him, and he got all dreamy-eyed, but I sort of panicked. We started talking again and I did the "I think it is getting late" thing and he looked deeply disappointed, but got himself together and left. He called me a couple of days later, sounding extremely nervous but determined to get another date with me, but I kinda let it go. I was really dismayed.

Within a few years I had had run-ins with guys who weren't all that hot looking but had something amazing in their skin, something that made me just want to breathe them in and touch them all over, rub myself all over them, lick them, put my face near them, touch them. Something electric and smooth between us, a texture to the skin that almost made it feel light as air, like there was nothing between us. I've reported on the phenomenon plenty of times here, guys whose skin is like crack and it makes me just want to fuck and fuck and fuck them and never stop.

This guy in general was fine. He *did* have that oily quality to his skin, like the guy I dated so long ago, but in this guy's case it could have just been lotion. But as we kissed, and got hot and heavy, the more we kissed, the more I became aware of his scent and taste-- slightly metallic, a little acrid. It was very slight and I could ignore it pretty well, but it kept this fuck from being one for the ages.

Now, I guess, like that dopey ugly nerd back when, pheromones are a crucial part of sexual attraction for me.

But the dude had a rockin' bod and a big dick and when I pushed my dick into him-- he was pretty tight and we had to use a ton of silicone lube that he brought-- he grabbed my body desperately, wrapping himself around me, pulling me into him deep, incredibly hungry for the fuck I was giving him. If only all bottoms were like this! Owing to how full my nuts were I kept getting close, and at one point, when I had him on his back, and he was staring at me and clutching at me with such intense desire, I told him how close I was, how I needed to hold back and stop thrusting, and he sucked my dick into his hole deep and pulled at me hard, and I said, "Do you want me to just cum now?" and he shook his head and closed his eyes and grabbed my ass and pulled me into him harder, as if he could somehow get more dick in him than I had to give. And then I lost it. "I can't hold back I gotta cum," I said, and began thrusting into him hard, and he opened his legs wide and let me move freely, dicking him deep with a dick that was thickening and lengthening with each thrust, and as soon as I began spurting, the strokes began to glide perfectly inside him; my cum was the perfect lube, much better than the silicone stuff which didn't seem to ease the way too well. So I kept fucking and fucking, even after I was done throbbing, because the motion felt so good, and he was beating off himself. But he couldn't cum, I could tell, and I pulled out and lay beside him, with my leg pressed between his, gently sucking and biting at his nip, and he tried and tried to cum but he couldn't, in the end.

I flopped beside him and we rested a second, and then began to talk a good bit. He had a rather dorky, bookish demeanor, and told me he had to go home and "tune his harp", which I thought was some kind of crazy euphemism for something, but he literally meant, tune a harp that was in D but needed to be in C or whatever. It was odd, as I had just been thinking mmmmaybe two days ago about how brass instruments are tuned in other keys and I never knew why, so I mentioned that, and he told me a bit about that, and we talked about music a bit, and I learned some things about the harp I never knew. The things you pick up while fucking your cum into strangers! He invited me to his place, a zillion miles away, to play his harpsichord sometime. A first!

He also mentioned that my doorman was rather smirky with him. I have no idea what he thinks of the parade of muscular dudes that come through here. But I'd rather he didn't *smirk*at the muscular dudes. But it's not like I can say something. I wonder if I'm the subject of much gossip in here. My bottom said that the doorman smirked at him before he even said which apartment he was coming to, as if he already knew. Interesting.

Anyway, he went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit and I got him some water and sent him on his way. And now I need a nap.