We Gather Together…

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When considering all the Thanksgivings of my life, almost all aren’t remotely memorable. Strange how we blur the lines between these memories. It seems like my mind likes playing tricks on me. The only reason I recall last year’s gathering of thanks is my attempt at recreating my grandmother’s sweet potato pie (I came very, very close for the first time in years).

My dressing is always too dry. My turkey is always perfect. It’s strange not to have my father at the table, even though he’s been gone for three.

Noticeably also absent from these memories: Sex.

I can recall Christmas fucks and most certainly have some memories of ringing in the New Year with a load up someone’s ass. But I don’t have any grateful fuckings that I can recall.

Now comes the part that I express my gratitude for the things of the past year. So how many fucks were really worth it? Surprisingly, a few do come to mind. So we gather together the hottest fucks of the past year.

• The Submissive Bi and his beautifully tanned body with a couple of rather distinctive tattoos. He’s one of the few men I can just pummel and punch. He’ll take all the physical abuse like a man. He doesn’t even flinch.

• The orgy earns a spot and not just because someone stole my phone and keys. Three people in the room proved to be memorable and I would so enjoy fucking them each again.

• My Wesson Oil midnight fuck had to be among the hottest young men I’ve bred. I usually don’t get frantic when fucking, but finding something other than spit turned out to be necessary for that piece of chicken.

• The return of a hottest fuck ever guys might be the largest disappointment for me. The one who got away. Strange that I’m still grateful for our brief reconnection, which means it could happen again.

• A few others come to mind from earlier in the year, which reminds me I need to write about them including a supposed “massage therapist” in Milwaukee who sucked at massage but kicked ass at being a bottom. And there’s the military man in Alabama who drove 100 miles in the middle of the night for a fuck and seemed disappointed when I kicked him out of my hotel room after 20 minutes. Finally, the re-breeding of a Jeep-driving pal in the Washington, DC, area; when I lived there, he turned out to be about the hottest piece of ass I could rely upon and I got reminded why.

Am I thankful for ass? You betcha. I hope the coming year brings me more memorable fucks to make them worth writing about here and easy-to-recall when the next Thanksgiving rolls around. Maybe, though, just maybe, we can keep the turkey fucks to a minimum.

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