A New Resolution?

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Who Makes My Dick Hard

Today I finally snagged a guy who has been evasive on Manhunt for ages-- I was about to write him off, but had a lot of time to myself today, as my boss is out sick and I am largely unmotivated after working a bit over the weekend, so I figured I'd give him one last chance. He's blown off multiple arranged meetings with lame excuses (the last one was of course a Family Emergency). He lives out on Long Island so I assume he is hot for my meat but when he is really facing down coming into Brooklyn to suck it, he decides eh. Today I just hit him up saying, "I want you to come suck my dick and drink my cum," and after about an hour and a half of hemming and hawing, he got into his car and drove over. I fully expected him not to look quite like his picture-- something about the quality made it seem pre-good-cell-phone-camera-era, maybe about 6 years old, and I was right. He'd aged and put on a bit of weight. But damn it if he didn't make my dick so fucking hard that it was almost painful. He sucked me like a champ, swallowed everything, and left me feeling as light and springy as a newly shorn lamb.

Ask And Ye Shall Receive

Friday night I got an awesome delayed Christmas present from the Gods of Fucking who watch over me so well. After a long week and a half of running around buying presents, driving way down south to where my family is, entertaining my mother, driving all over that goddamn city for vast distances to do minor things, spending Christmas Eve with my family, Christmas Day treating everyone to Chinese food, Friday day taking my partner around to thrift stores in the ghetto, and Friday evening treating a couple of nephews to pizza, I found myself with a few hours of free time that night, as my partner was hanging out with a friend he has in the area. After going an entire week without lightening the load on my poor, ever-more-cum-laden testicles, I was very much in the mood to have my meat serviced and my ejaculate swallowed by some diligent lover of dick and semen. But it was Friday night in a small southern city full of closeted, largely unattractive men… the odds didn't look good. Nonetheless, I sat in my car in the parking lot of the pizza place, signed on to apps and websites, and cast out my line to see what I could reel in. On Scruff I hit on a tight, muscular, prettily handsome black kid, 29 years old, who confessed a love of heavy ejaculators, with no expectation that my ability to squirt five foot jets of sperm would trump my 46-year-old body and graying beard. I waited for his reply, fully expecting to be dragging a pair of heavy, still-spooge-swollen nuts back to my mother's house after an hour or two of wasted time. But no! It was Christmas! He replied fairly quickly, and within a half an hour, I was at his place, praising to the skies my fantastic luck at getting my dick and my sexual fluid inside beautiful men.

Fuck This Shit

I was up till about 2 working last night on something that should have taken 10 minutes, and woke up spontaneously this morning at 7:30 with a splitting headache. My partner stirred too so we had a massive hour-long cuddle session before he had to shower and get up. But I didn't get up. I lay in bed, fuming at my life, thinking FUCK THIS SHIT! and deciding I would just keep laying there. One of my bosses is off this week, himself nursing a horrible cold from his own brand of overwork, and my new colleague is having a family emergency which, despite involving a hospital and sounding very alarming for him, was a relief for me; no questions or new issues to look at from him. I fired up Scruff and a rather skanky dude 300 feet from me wanted to hook up now Now NOW asking how hung How Hung HOW HUNG, but my partner was in the shower and I needed to somehow wake up more fully so I told him I'd text him in a half an hour. And after my partner left and I had a bowl of cereal, I asked if he wanted to come drain my nuts and he was all HOW HUNG and I told him and he said OK and then I never heard from him again. (I'm the only person in the world who doesn't lie about how big his dick is, I guess; I'd love another inch or so but most dudes are perfectly fine with it.) But another guy I've been playing Scruff tag with, also about 330 feet away, cruised my profile wordlessly. And about ten minutes later he was here in my apartment with my dick in his mouth. He wasn't all that great, but FUCK THIS SHIT, I got my dick sucked.

My Nuts' Precious Cargo

It's no secret that I am maybe inordinately proud of myself for the volume and pressure of my cum, and that half the dudes that let me fuck them do so because of that simple fact. And I recognize that it's kind of silly. But in the end I suppose I have fetishized my own ejaculatory prowess. When I have a long dry spell, such as I have this week, as my job continues to eat my brain, my time, and my life, the frustration of not being able to have sex as often as I like is counterbalanced by the knowledge that I am building up a truly impressive store of fluid in my balls and that I can re-brand myself as a seed-squirting stud packed to the gills with salty fluid and out of my mind with the horny need to shed it into the gullet or ass of a willing, cum-hungry cumslut or whatever. But because I fetishize my own cum, I get very picky about who I will put these epic loads in, often causing an even greater buildup of fluid and frustration, until finally, I just have to pick someone at random to relieve myself of my semen inside. Today, that was the blond twink I fucked the hell out of earlier this year even though I wasn't that into him physically. And honestly, it felt like a total waste of my nuts' precious cargo.

Theatrics

So last night, after a physical therapy session in Brooklyn Heights, I trotted down to DUMBO to inseminate a tiny, 5'2 older Italian dude who, in pictures at least, had an insanely muscular body, beautiful round ass, and a nice face. I'm a sucker for a short guy with a lot of meat on his bones who is crazy about getting deep dicked and loaded up with cum, and he fit the bill. I worried a bit about the pictures being accurate-- especially bottoms at that age tend to round their ages down and use old pictures. And my suspicions were correct: when I arrived at his incredibly over designed apartment building and got to his place, he was older looking than the pictures in face and body. Although overall they were not too far off; he had lost the fullness of musculature he had in his pictures, looking a bit more withered in the limbs. But the muscles he did have were improbably rock-hard and overall it was really not so bad that he was not still fuckable. This could have been a pretty fun fuck, really! The problem? Gawd. The overacting.

Familiarity

After gagging out that long post last night, I felt rather melancholy… but also, horny. Because despite all the complicated emotions brought up by the repeat performance with the Ideal Bottom of My Endless Longing, he is still just an incredibly hot guy, I fucking loved fucking him even if he was high and paranoid and annoying, and even now I just wish my dick was back inside his perfect, humid interior, sliding up and down in his warmth, with my hands all over his hard hairy body and my lips pasted to his, breathing his breath. The way I came left me feeling completely unfinished. I had a few spare hours to myself. I knew that UltraMeat was on his own over the weekend; apparently his partner was away again, and he had hit me up late Friday night, knowing full well I was highly unlikely to be free. But he had been hitting me up a lot while I was in Portugal, and I made him jealous with tales of all the hot dudes there sucking my dick, and ever since he's been whining, "When is my turn? You whore! When is my turn?" And if one person can reliably get me off, it's Ultra Meat. So feeling like I wanted a stable, reliable, known quantity after my rainy, druggy, NYCHA adventure the other night, I trotted over and he sucked the holy hell out of my nuts.

Memory and Longing

I started this blog as a way to record my sexual experiences so they wouldn't be lost to fallible memory. I would have flashes of intense, beautiful experiences with strangers, or humorous experiences with odd guys, or improbable situations that I felt like I wanted to get down lest I forget them. And ironically, I would find that reading back over a few years' worth of sexual experiences, I forget many of them. And even more ironic was the experience I just had last night. It was in fact related to one of the improbable, only-happens-to-me kind of thing I wished I'd recorded when it happened, and which I've certainly never forgot in its general shape. But memory is a slippery thing, and when two people are involved, the asymmetries and changes due to the passage of time can be a little heartbreaking. In short: I ran into a guy online who I fucked for or five years ago, in an extremely intense, fulfilling experience that (unusually for me) I intensely wanted to repeat, but couldn't. And I fucked him again-- I was so excited to be with him again I ran all the way down to City Hall in Manhattan in a freezing, driving rain, full of anticipation, head full of the memory of the time before. But he didn't remember me at all, and was not himself, and the extremely hot start to our reunion dissolved into strangeness. I'm not sure what I think.

Dissociating

This stressful, intense year continues to build in stress and intensity. I fucked a dude on Monday and haven't even had time to write a little blog post about it! I haven't had time to fuck anyone else! My job is eating my brain, and to add to it, my mother spent most of the week in the hospital for a very nail-biting stay. I toyed with letting the blog go for now, but as things calm down, I find myself wanting to keep recording my experiences, even if it's five days later. So read on to find out about who I fucked my sperm into on Monday!