Archive for July, 2010

Dichotomy, Part II

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And now for the difficult part, as I look into the mirror and give myself the finger.

I admit my own sense of hypocrisy, as I accused the Asian in the entry before this one. But I somehow absolve myself. Not anymore. Shall we nail my ass to the wall?

Actually, I want to credit an Ozzie friend from Facebook who didn’t let me off the hook on this one. Never met the mate in person but so would I like to travel Down Under and get to know him, especially after his note, condensed here:

You’re a complete enigma to me, you know that? In your blog, you often talk about getting your pleasure with no regard for the bottom involved, that the sexual interaction is all about you and not about them.

But then you post a comment about how difficult it is to get close to someone, and I think “Dude, it may have something to do with the image you’re presenting of yourself.” When you make it so abundantly clear that you don’t particularly care whether the guy you’re with gets pleasure or not, I can’t say I’m surprised that you might find it hard to get close to someone.

Now I ask, “What the fuck do I want?”

My response seems to be, “Fuck if I know.”

As the exploration goes, some men explore with me. Four men have emerged in the last couple of weeks of interest. I never really planned on writing about them, but what the fuck do I have to lose? But let’s go through the numbers:

  • Three consider monogamy an important aspect of a relationship.
  • One is a bareback top who thinks he can turn me into a bottom.
  • Two are strict bottoms who won’t have sex until love happens.
  • Three out of state people want me to visit them at their locations.
  • One is versatile and isn’t exactly sure if he’s all that interested in me.
  • Two have made my heart beat a little faster, my breath quicken and butterflies happen.
  • All have read my blog and will probably read this.
  • When I call one of them, he can’t seem to carry on a conversation with me.
  • Three have dark hair.
  • One is a blond.
  • One usually dates men in their fifties, so I’m really young.
  • One usually dates men in their twenties, so I’m really old.
  • Two have sent me their cock shots.
  • One won’t send me a shirtless pic.
  • None are “of means” or particularly well off, so I still need to work (sigh).
  • Two would likely need financial support from me.
  • One is older than forty.
  • Only one could get me to bottom on a first “bedroom” date.

Thing is these probably aren’t the only men interested in me. Others might come forward after reading this piece, which is fine. And one or more of the men who were interested in me might not be anymore.

So how do I resolve my need for a man to use but a man to care? How to I deal with two men who won’t just fuck out of the gate and one man who wants to fuck me? Is this a kiss the frog situation until I find a prince?

And to be perfectly shallow, why couldn’t any of them be rich and fly me to them?

I’m wondering just how much to compromise. Think about how much I compromise right out of the gate if you’ve read my writings. So allow me to do my wish list.

  1. He’s more bottom or at least versatile. I’ve not yet written my natural tops and natural bottoms theories, but I just don’t see me bumping cocks the rest of my life with another top without a bottom in the photo somehow. And although I’m not the hung one in this photo, I just don’t see my ass opening up to accommodate multiple fuckings on a regular basis.
  2. Monogamy just isn’t a natural choice. Look, I’ve done it before. Multiple times before. With my previous boyfriends, I’ve not been the one who cheated and I’ve been the one who’s forgiven. In fact, since it’s something expected, I’m just not surprised when someone else enters the photo. I don’t even want to pretend in the future so the promises about not cheating need not be tried on me. Skip it. Let’s just do the honesty thing.
  3. Age is a factor. We all can admit youth can be attractive and the smooth, supple skin of a twentysomething can sure rev some motors, but fucking hell, when your elementary school years were the same as my young adult life and I make a pop-culture reference from the 1980s that goes over your head, I can’t help but feel old. Age is more than a number.
  4. Barebacking isn’t negotiable. Look, I kind of make it a point. As the Asian found out, I’m not going to just roll over and hope that someday I get your ass raw. Raw sex occurs from the beginning. And sex is part of the deal from the beginning. Some vague promise of sex someday won’t work.
  5. You are your own man, as am I. If I ever have another relationship, both of us will have our own lives. I don’t want to be joined at the hip.
  6. A man of means. I am not requiring a rich man but this begging for me to travel to locations across the planet just isn’t going to happen. If you want me to come see you across the globe, expect to pay for some of it. I’m not footing all the bill to travel cross country only to be abandoned at a hotel on my dime.

I hope this resolves the dichotomy. Or does it enhance it?

Dichotomy, Part I

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People have pointed out my own dichotomy, but let’s consider their own. An interesting example is “Ray,” who contacted me just this past week. His first e-mail:

I am a Malaysian Chinese, living and working in B’ham, AL. Let me know when you are in town the next time. We can go get together and hang out? Just want to be friend with you.

Now I enjoy a little Asian in my life and having a good Birmingham fuck might be just the ticket. But he soon made it clear that our options were limited when I asked if he wanted to get fucked.

Only if you put on a rubber…. haha, which i understand that you only go bare. My ex and i used to go bare. Well, i just want to be your friend first. A good friend that can hang out and do some other things besides having sex…

Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind getting to know someone in Birmingham. I go there enough. So, as I tend to do, I ask for a photograph. His response were four photos, all quite similar to this one:

A bikini brief Asian

I pointed out to him the dichotomy. He wants to become friends and not get fucked by me but sends those photos. His response:

you didn’t say what type of pictures you want to see so i sent you pictures of my crotch on purpose, just to get your attention. I see you are a meet and fuck kinda person instead of meet and talk kinda person? call me weirdo, i cannot let people fuck me unless i get to know the other person first. Personally, i think you are a deeper person than what you portrayed on IBI. I read that you have so much disappointment with the hookups you tried to make while you were in B’ham. i thought have a “normal” friend in B’ham might make your stay over here more pleasant. That’s just the caring side of me talking, not my horny side.

So send me a regular photo of your face then! We chatted on Gtalk for a bit today, but in the end, his face was off limits but I could see his panty-clad crotch for days.

WTF.

The Fucking Point

Stealthing, Stealth, Stealth Fucking
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I appreciate the correspondence — messages, comments, etc. Some people have asked what brought me to this point where fucking isn’t the point in my life.

Well sit your ass down and drill this into your large and small heads. Fucking never really was the point. As much as I went for ass, I never really fucked for anything other than the conquest and fun of it. My pleasure, not yours. And never the bottom’s pleasure.

Among my conversations recently, a top spoke of his prowess to make bottoms pop their loads, fucking it out of them with his hard eight inches — oh, bigger if he really liked you. If I were someone who enjoyed the fuck, then I might do that. I’m not that kind of top. Oh, I enjoy the fuck. The sensation of the fuck for me. Not the bottom. The only ways that I’m a giving top is the fact I’m putting my cock inside someone and that I’ll give them my load. That’s about it.

I think that might be why I stealthed for a while. Just tricking the bottoms and then, having them come back for more even after they shit out a load. I found that amazing. But they did. Every time. I stopped stealthing, not because of morality but because it was too easy. I didn’t need the condom. Men would take my cock bare. Fuck, I could tell them.

A few months ago, I was fucking this Latin guy. Raw of course. He’s protesting about it being raw, how he doesn’t fuck that way. He’s also upset because it’s too big. I’m not so happy cause the chulo didn’t bother to clean his brown cunt out. When I changed position, he protested and finally pulled off, insisting on a condom. Instead of doing my normal act, I went opposite.

“Did you bother to bring a fucking condom?”

He looked up at me shocked, “No.”

“Well I don’t fucking have one and I don’t want one,” I spoke with an even tone. I didn’t yell. “If you’re the one who wanted one, why the fuck didn’t you bring it with you?”

He looked at me silently, “I don’t know.”

“You can leave now,” I told him, the wood leaving my cock.

Could I have convinced him to take me and my load? Yes. But why deal with the whiny little bitch? I didn’t want him to run home to his wife (yes, he was married) all satisfied. I decided, in that instant, rattled and still horny was better.

Fucking hasn’t been the point. It’s always been the conquest of the bottom, taking his ass, making it mine and marking my spot by leaving that DNA inside. Yea, it’s like I’m a dog pissing on a tree. It’s mine bitches. Whoever else comes into this hole will find it used later and this ass will always have a little of me left in it. And in the case of the chulo, well, I gave my deposit in a little precum and spit.

Every year I get older, the accomplishment would be to get younger ass. Is that really an accomplishment? No. There’s always a way to get ass. It’s easy for the willing. And every opportunity will allow one to exploit weakness and access that orifice for my pleasure.

I need my next destination. Is it physical? Geographical? Emotional? Spiritual? All of the above?

A few of you have reached out, inviting me to your town, to your homes. I’ve actually (finally) been invited on a few dates. No one local, mind you, and I have to fly myself across the country to different destinations in order to get a meal and a movie.†

So I’m still struggling with the fucking point.

Mid-life crisis…. keeps on rollin’.

So look, I’m not saying I won’t take anyone up on the three or four invitations I’ve received. I’m still trying to figure out who’s legit and who’s fake, as I’ve visited some destinations only to discover men who disappear (Birmingham, Dallas and Las Vegas, you all know who you are).

So you might be appalled to discover that I wrote about things here, thinking I wouldn’t dare write about you, but I’m a blogger so I write about a lot of shit in my life. But if you carefully read what I wrote, I never bothered to identify who you were.

Fifteen Things

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I think I’m having a mid-life crisis. I guess you’re allowed at 43, although it seems to me it’s a little beyond midlife because I’m not sure I want to live until I’m 86. Late 70s seems appropriate enough for me. Nonetheless, here’s my 15 things I’ve been considering…

15. I want to begin an exercise regiment, possibly including yoga. I would prefer a personal trainer, one who is rather good looking and who might use a bit of sexual harassment in order to whip me into shape. In particular, I think this aspect might be required for me to maintain my interest since I don’t normally experience to ever-lovin’ “runner’s high” or any level of satisfaction from working out. At least, I don’t recall ever experiencing anything remotely pleasurable. As for yoga, the fascination seems unusual I know. A little too touchie feelie with the third eye probably somewhere looking at my crotch. But I want to try something a little lower impact to see if I can find some enjoyment in the so-called “working out” arts.

14. I want someone to ask me out on a date. It’s strange the number of people who’ve inquired about me settling down lately has been unusually high and I’ll admit a certain appeal. That said, I don’t think monogamy is necessarily on the table although I’ll discuss it. I welcome such a discussion. I was, in fact, invited on two dates this weekend but had to decline for business reasons — largely my travel. Additionally, though, the two men were bottoms and did expect me to make decisions on the date as to what we would be doing. I make decisions all week. I need my date to make decisions for me. By the way, if he decides on a movie, I will automatically decline. It says he’s not confident enough to carry a conversation through an entire evening.

13. Where’s the goddamned porn star? I keep getting closer and closer to meeting one. Now for the fucking to begin. And I’d sorry, just cause you were on film with a nine-inch dildo up your ass in the early 2000s doesn’t make you a porn star. I mean a real porn star, recognized as such today. And I still want to write and direct one. I have two or three ideas that I think will make th porn industry take notice.

12. I want someone legitimately to follow through on meeting me. I get so many people who express an interest but now that I’m willing to actually meet people, no one seems to want to follow through and meet. I corresponded with  a youthful man and he seemed quite the person worth getting to know but when I called him out on some potential bullshit, he folded and disappeared. So many men do that. That seems to happen a lot on my travels.

11. In a related wish, I’m going to take a week off in August. I wish someone wanted to meet me then. Legitimately. I’ve been hoping for a few destinations I could plan on visiting but no one really seems to want to meet me, even at their own home. So it looks like my vacation will be a “stay-cation.”

10. A porn series I want to make: Hairy Otter and the Porn Producer’s Bone Dildo, Hairy Otter and the Chamber of Secret Torture, Hairy Otter and the Prisoner of Banned from Arizona, Hairy Otter and the Goblet of Fire Water, Hairy Otter and the City of Phoenix, Hairy Otter and the Half-Black/Half-Arab Prince, and finally, Hairy Otter and the Deaf Leif Howler.

9. Okay, so the porn series is a bit of a joke (although it’s actually got a true story line that begins in San Diego and travels through New Mexico (I mean, where would a prisoner “banned from Arizona” go?) travels through the wilds (meeting a Native American who provides “fire water”) and shows up in Phoenix. Then we take a twist back toward California and the opulence of Las Vegas (to meet a “Prince of Persia”) and then the road trip tragically ends with a deaf guy who’s hunting a down-and-out former teen star (but he can’t hear just how awful he really sounds). That all said, I do want to try my hand at porn. I find several gaps in the industry that still needs filling — and a fist or even two won’t cut it. There’s a reason why Xtube.com, PornTube.com, etc. is so popular. It’s not just amateur. It’s not just regular people. It’s a formula no one had tried to tap into. I can.

8. Speaking of porn, I want to really step into something bizarre. I was sharing with an online buddy that I think there’s potential for truly some twisted shit out there. Straight torture video. Yes. Gay for pay? You’ll do it for money, but really how far does it go? I think Bait Bus is fake but that’s part of the fun. So let’s get guys to line up and see how far they’ll take it.

7. I know I just moved this damn blog, but I am questioning whether it needs to continue. I’ve found several of my recent activities have met with disappointing results — not one t-shirt sold, GASMM isn’t garnering much attention and fuck if anyone lately wants to meet me in person. Maybe it’s time to hang it up. What do you think men? Is the magic of the blog gone?

6. Speaking of the magic being gone, while I’ve enjoyed some fun lately, the last few fucks haven’t held for me a lot of fun. In fact, they’ve been sort of boring. With exception of the DP in DC, which I have yet to write about, fucking has left me a little limp. Where’s the excitement men? Where are all the good fucks? I had a typo. I had typed, “Where are the god fucks?” Truth is, that’s a good typo. Where are you?

5. Where should I move? I’m looking for my next home and my next career change. I’ve only scratched the surface of what’s been happening at work but I want a new job. Anyone looking for a marketing executive, go out on a limb and drop me a note. I’m worth it.

4. Don’t take me so goddamn seriously. Some asswipe the other day got all bent out of shape when I made a joke. I will make inappropriate jokes about religions, retards, fags, abortion, patriotism and everything else holy. Expect it. But in this case, I took on love. He lost it.

3. I hate you and love you all at once.

2. I’m looking for a new love baby. A new love baby. Yea, yea, YEA! Yes, it’s a song, but it’s also a mantra for me. I’m stepping into some more experimentation well beyond just porn. Photography, art, working out, sex. It’s beyond all these. Yes, relationships too. I want to try some new things. I am looking for new things to love. Do I mean people? Yes. In fact, my heart has begun to flutter again. Fuck, it’s been a long time since I felt the damn thing beat.

1. Confirmation. I am having a midlife crisis. Welcome to it. Now where’s my sports car and 21 year old?

Exhibitionism & Voyeurism

My Digital Camera
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I have been watching “Works of Art: The Search for the Next Great Artist” on Bravo. I would not suppose that I am an artist but I do have a creative bend that occasionally surfaces. To that end, I want to explore that. I will be exploring a lot of new aspects of myself in the coming time.

I always considered myself an astute observer. As I watched the story on the “shocking” episode of “Works of Art” and found myself slightly turned on by Miles and John — wishing I could watch Miles finish his work and wanting John to have done as the judges suggested, then I found myself plunging further into exploring this observer and recording those moments.

I am not an observer. I am a voyeur. My Digital Camera

I want an exhibitionist. I want him to show off for me. And I want to use the camera for him to do the seduction dance. To lure me into his world. I want to try shocking us all.

Are you in Atlanta or one of my destinations? If so, let me photograph you. Please.