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Drunk

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He was drunk.

Barely 6 o’clock in the afternoon, and his body reeked of the alcohol he’d likely been pouring into it since noon or even earlier. Surprising he could stand upright. Cute enough, in the dim lights of the upstairs area of the adult bookstore, he looked rather young. Now up close, my suspicions were confirmed. At 24 or 25, he stood a little over 5-foot-8. His skin was dark, but he wasn’t African American.

I’d only been here a few minutes and hadn’t had enough time for my eyes to adjust to the interior when we were already in a room. My nice 7 inches standing up and his curved 5 inches uncut cock.

“What do you get into?” he asked. His breath was heavy with vodka.

“I’m a top,” I said. “What about you?”

“I like to get fucked.”

“Good.”

That’s all it took. He never sucked me. He just dropped his pants lower and bent over.

His ass was smooth and dark as well. Tan? No. I felt his perfect little ass. A nice amount of meat on it. When I found the pucker, the lube and possibly previous loads there. I lined my cock up and pushed in.

He didn’t make a sound. I just fucked. I fucked hard. I fucked soft. I moved passionately. I motioned with purpose. And then I started getting toward the point where I was finally getting close. But this bending over shit wouldn’t work.

Despite the awkward nature of our pants around our ankles, I told him to move up on the room’s platform mattress and lay down. He wasn’t playing with himself. He just let me do the work. So I mounted him and began to really fuck with purpose.

After a snort of poppers, I went into a zone where my cock just slid in and out of his ass. He had a good amount of friction and it led me to that point of no return. Soon I was grunting. And I began to shoot into his ass. I let it all go. All my cum. I didn’t ask whether he wanted it. I just simply unloaded.

I took a moment to recover. He remained quiet and still.

I unmounted, the cock coming out of his ass. I stood. He scrambled up behind me.

“Thank you very much,” he smiled, his white teeth glistening.

“Where are you from,” I asked.

“India,” he responded.

“Nice,” I said. “My first Indian.”

“Huh?” he said.

“Never mind,” I responded.

I left him. He probably looked for more cock, but I headed home.

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May 17, 2012 No Comments MarkBentson Short URL
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Travel Diary: Anonymous Bottom in the Dark

Las-Vegas-Strip

We “met” on BarebactRT and got down to business quickly, just the kind of fuck sometimes I really like.

anonymous bareback bottomHis request was simple. He wanted to arrive at my hotel, find my room unlocked, step in and room would be completely dark. He would strip naked then walk to find me naked on the bed. He’d lick and suck me hard. Then he’d climb on board.

That’s practically exactly what happened.

The one thing about totally dark rooms is how difficult it is to create totally dark. Light creeps in through odd spaces and, after a moment in the dark, your eyes adjust and you can see just fine.  This is especially true on the 24th floor in Las Vegas with giant windows that with curtains that allow the lights of the Strip to bleed around all the edges and give the room an eerie glow.

As his small frame approached, I had the advantage, as my eyes had already adjusted to the lowered light. Although hunched a bit, he probably stood five-foot-six-inches and no more than 130 pounds. His alabaster skin included a fine coating of dark hairs over it — chest, arms, legs and, as I’d find out, ass. He reached out in front trying to find the bed and then me. Touching my left leg first, he followed it up to my cock and began sucking it.

His mouth music ranked somewhere in there between a decent pop-anthem and an alternative rock song with everyday sucking ability that included some decent variety but nothing off the charts. I’d popped pretty hard anyway knowing I’d be fucking a guy who was a foot shorter and almost 100 pounds lighter.

He came off my cock, crawled up and we kissed. His oral skills improved in this department, pushing him toward a multi-platinum rock star. And as he positioned his ass, he lowered himself onto my cock.

The initial push in is always the best. That warmth. The sensation of breaking a virtual hymen of hourly virginity. How tight does that sphincter come back to? How hard is it to get it to open up? And once inside, what do those colon muscles do? How do they hug and love the cock invading its space.

This fucker opened up a little at a time and eased, his ass muscles greeting the prick invader.

He rode my bucking bronco for quite a while. In fact, it proved to be his favorite position. And indeed, I enjoyed it as well. He seemed almost weightless, as if I had my own personal Fleshlight to pleasure myself.

So I did. And the more I moved him, the more he helped. He was sort of like a self-propelled vacuum cleaner.

Pretty soon, he was begging for my cum so I snorted some poppers to get ready to give it. We worked into a bit of a frenzy. I then pushed him over onto his stomach and pounded him like tomorrow would never come. I pounded him like I might not cum. Truth was, after a week of shooting load into load into man after man, I felt like I was running a little low.

So to inspire me, I fucked harder, I grunted more, I urged myself on and I insisted he keep begging.

I completely covered the frame beneath me. I used him more,  almost like an inflatable sex doll. But soon, I released my load into his hole. Deep. I plunged in and found that place where my balls gave up holding back and let go the cum boiling up inside.

With force, it jetted from my balls and through my prostate, taint and out my pee hole into his warm, gushy ass walls. I’d been tearing him up my hard seven inches. Although I’d paused as my cock throbbed, I pumped some more to make sure my cum really went inside him deep and worked into him on a cellular level.

Shortly after I rolled off, my cock was still hard. He climbed up and rode it, making sure the cum really coated and dried on his walls, worked into the nooks and crannies of his ass skin, into any breaks  or tears that might have occurred during my hard pounding. And with a few jerks, sent a nice load flying across my belly.

I stuck my finger into it and got a nice, thick dollop, jamming it into my mouth for a sample. Then we kissed.

He climbed off and put on his clothes. Soon he was out the door and into the Vegas night.

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May 3, 2012 No Comments MarkBentson Short URL
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3… 2… 1… BLASTOFF! It’s My Fucking Birthday! (3 of 3)

3-2-1-blast-off

The Last 15 of My List of 45 Random Things

Celebrating the 45th Anniversary of the Last Time I Touched a Vagina

Today is the big day! If you’re wondering about the previous parts of this list, please check out 45 to 31 and 30 to 16.

15. The closest I’ve gotten to a female vagina was children’s clay

If you think I’m joking about it being 45 years since I physically touched a female vagina, I’m not. In fact, I might not have touched the vagina since there’s a chance I was a C-Section baby (don’t know for sure; I’m adopted).

When I turned 30, some straight friends of mine were teasing me about the clam and decided I needed to learn more about it. So grabbing what was handy, they took some children’s clay, molding the inner and outer lips along with the clitoris to try and explain to me how to perform cunnilingus.

Funny thing. They didn’t want to hear how to give a good blowjob.

14. Monogamy isn’t a part of me

Choosing to be with one person is a social construct. It’s not instinctual. Watch Jerry Springer to figure out human nature at it’s most basic is to run wild and fuck everything (and to occasionally get a nice blowjob from a tranny). Okay, so Jerry Springer might not speak to social norms but I know it’s not normal for me to be with just one person.

13. Unlucky?

What’s luck got to do with it? In a way, I don’t believe in luck, fate or otherwise. But still there’s this cosmic fate in our lives. It seems every once in a while we deserve a slap-down for something or another. Sounds a little too philosophical, right?

12. What to do with the BBBH.org site.

Believe me, I am pumped by the overall success of the Bareback Brotherhood and very proud to be one of the cofounders of the BBBH movement. But I’ve invested as much money as I can into the site and the next step is virtual servers and rebuilding the site completely on another platform to get it to function more quickly. I can’t do it on my own (and even with the help of the other dedicated cofounders, we don’t have the resources).

11. More bottoms need to learn to be service oriented

I find more and more that bottoms are rather demanding. Isn’t that the top’s job? More often than not, the bottom wants it this way or that.

It’s so funny to hear a bottom proclaim, “I really like a selfish top.”

Then as I declare myself one, the real selfish one comes forward. “You need to come over,” he’ll demand. “And I need to sit on it first. And don’t get any lube on my sheets.”

10. Is it me or is Grindr biased against older men?

If I put “top” in my profile, I get censored. Hell, in less than six hours, my profile is down even if I hint at my position. If I even put anything remotely humorous or sexual, Grindr slams me. But I see dozens of younger men who put “top” or “bottom” in their profile and Grindr leaves it up without a problem.  Grindr leaves all kinds of shit up with young men.

But not with older men. Not at all. If you’re past 40, you can’t get away with it.

9. Gloryholes are fucking hot

I love them.

8. Gummy bears are the bomb

I like them better than chocolate.

7. Lucky!

So far this year in 2012, it’s been a good one.

6. Someday, if I’m a big executive, I want to sexually harass without consequence

I’ve always wanted that kind of assistant. I promise that I’d make sure he was well compensated.

5. I embrace being a geek

Gotta admit, I don’t mind it any more. When I was younger, it was difficult to admit I was intelligent. But now, I love being a geek.

4. I have to admit now. Forty-five is getting old.

And don’t give me “it’s just a number” bullshit. Half-way to 90. And 90 is pushing it for being really old. I kind of doubt that’s the maximum age potential. I mean, if I were to turn 90, it would be May 1, 2057. Bristol Palin could be president. Who wants to be alive for that?

3. I don’t watch live TV except in hotels

Thank goodness for TiVo. Someone should invent a kind of DVR for hotels. Or someone needs to put high-definition Apple TVs and Hulu in every room.

2. I fucked on my birthday

A muscle bear (blond at that) got a load from me today.

1. Even if I am over the hill, I fuck damn well

Time breeds experience. My experience breeds ass fucking so damn good.

You ought to try me out if you haven’t… BBRT or HMU.

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May 1, 2012 2 Comments MarkBentson Short URL
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3… 2… 1… BLAST-OFF! The Countdown to iBLASTinside’s Birthday (2 of 3)

3-2-1-blast-off

Forty-Five Random List…

…for Mark Bentson’s Forty-Fifth Year (Part 2 of 3)

You can catch up by reading part one.

30. I need a protégé.

It’s something I have wanted for a long while. A paduwan.  Someone to take under my wing, nurture and teach the secrets of fucking. I’m not going so far as to suggest I’m the bottom whisperer or anything, but I do have a talent for reading men and finding a way into their pants and eventually their asses. Of course, getting into their asses means I fuck them raw.

I want a willing, dedicated participant who wants to learn. So many folks take the first bit of advice and then move on, thinking they’ve got the key. But learning is a process that takes a little time.

So I still await someone with endurance and patience.

29. Make some fantasies cum true

Believe it or not, I still have a few fantasies in the darkest corners of my mind. These twisted little flights of my sexual imagination require that protégé or someone like him to become synchronized with me and be willing to waltz into the lion’s den where it’s not a controlled environment, like a dungeon or a bedroom. It requires quick thought on your feet, persuasion and a certain Joie de vivre.

28. Spread my seed farther, wider, deeper

Travel isn’t the only reason to spread my seed. Implanting my DNA in men just is my mission, my passion, the reason for fucking. And I find as I can reach more men farther afield from home — whether that’s literally geographic or figuratively in some other means like culture, age, financial status or otherwise — I find it more of a turn on.

27. Negotiate Middle East Peace

Short of that, I want to fuck more straight and bi ass.

26. Take one down, pass it around…

Where is the Gran Marnier?

25. Breed on my birthday

Any Atlanta asses want to volunteer to take my load?

24. Speaking of birthdays…

My wish list remains open at Amazon. Anyone wishing to send along something nice is always welcome to do so. It’s welcomed.

23. More strippers please

I don’t mind putting dollar bills in armbands or socks and paying for a lap dance. In fact, there’s a little bit of a turn on. That’s why one of my favorite places to visit in Atlanta happens to be Swinging Richards.

As I travel more places, I wish there were similar clubs worth my time and attention. For example, in San Francisco, I’d hoped that the Nob Hill Theatre might be the perfect cross between a Swinging Richards and a gloryhole destination. It’s far from it (I’ll get around to offering my review soon). And I’d thought Sin City might offer me a few options. But no. Women naked, yes. Men (for men), no.

I know Canada is known for some good strip clubs and a few in South Florida, but are there any more in the U.S.? Come on guys, let me know!

22. I’ve converted

Long-time readers will know my affinity for Diet Coke. When I wrote the impossible fantasy, The Company, Diet Coke features prominently in the story, as it’s provided to my character (I know, lots of you want me to continue the story and I appreciate that; read the next entry).

Well, folks, Coke Zero now features prominently among my beverage consumption as well. In fact, I drink it much more than Diet Coke and much prefer it.

Truth is, who the fuck cares? But writing 45 things about yourself can become daunting halfway in.

21. Finish it

I have a tendency to start a lot of projects but never finish them. I love watching those hoarding shows on A&E or TLC and sometimes those mentally ill folk have the same ideas but with physical world items. And the hoard overtakes their storage.

Good thing my hoard is virtual and on a computer. And good thing I don’t grow emotionally attached and can let them go. I’ve still got goals but I just can’t seem to find an opportunity to finish the books or the online projects. And often money is a barrier. It’s like The Company, which apparently had a few people enthralled. I know where the story goes and where it ends, but I just couldn’t get around to finishing it. I need to finish things more often.

20. I still want to write and direct a porn movie

Recently, I noticed the fine folks at Treasure Island Media posted its first attempts at stealthing. In the end, I believe someone felt it “too controversial” to go on the DVD, but having watched the scene, it simply lacked the spark.

When Hollywood does big films about the Navy, they bring in technical advisers from (get this) the Navy. Part of the problem I saw was bottom could easily tell the top clumsily took the condom off. The fucking went on. It didn’t “read” like a legit stealthing.

That, among other controversial themes, are things I might explore. Should someone ever give me a chance.

19. I have no tolerance for stupid questions

For some reason of late, I’ve been getting more and more visitors who find this whole “blog” thing foreign to them. Among the young men in Las Vegas who said he might be interested in being my bottom, he liked my “page” but started asking a dozen questions about me. This here blog contains more information about me than you’d ever want to know. I referred him back to the blog, for which he said he did not want to invest the time in reading.

In fact, the little prick sent just one tiny faceless pic (as you can see) then responded with the following: “Thanks for the website and the warnings, but I did not really get to see what you look like or what your stats are. After hunting around the website for about 20 minutes I came across a few stats that could be you or someone you described as 6ft and 180lbs.”

Okay, as a little help, dumbass. In the future, look at the top of EVERY FUCKING PAGE and you’ll see something called navigation. It happens to have an entry called “About Me.” If you click it, you might find that for which you’re looking.

I hate it when someone who thinks he’s good-looking, young and full-of-himself somehow thinks himself special enough for me to mindmeld and figure out what the fuck he wants from me. He kept insisting I send him a variety of photos of myself and he would consider going bare, as he was usually a safe sex Nazi.

18. Despite how it reads sometimes, I’m a nice guy

Yes, I can be an asshole. But most would attest I am a nice guy. Anyone? Bueller? Please post your “yes Mark is a nice guy” in the comments if you’ve met me.

17. Fuck it

I know this is a little offensive, but occasionally fucking the younger folk less than half my age makes for fun and, well, makes me feel a little flattered. On the other hand, people closer to my age aren’t quite as flattering, no matter how good their shape.

16. How am I going to figure out 15 more?

I’m struggling for 30. What the fuck am I going to write for the next 15. I guess we’ll find out tomorrow, my birthday, when I turn 45. Maybe early Alzheimer’s will set in and I’ll just repeat myself.

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April 30, 2012 No Comments MarkBentson Short URL
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3… 2… 1… BLAST-OFF! The Countdown to iBLASTinside’s Birthday (1 of 3)

3-2-1-blast-off

Forty-Five Random List…

…for Mark Bentson’s Forty-Fifth Year (Part 1 of 3)

To mark this moderately important milestone in my lifetime — halfway to 90, which means I’m most certainly over the hill and speeding toward a furnace to turn me into ashes that will then be scattered here, there and everywhere to celebrate the clandestine debauchery of my life. But let’s focus on the here and now, the hedonism of the moment. Here begins part one of three of my Forty-Five Random List.

45. Fuck a porn star

I can’t begin a list without the wish that continues on despite repeated tries. I want to fuck a porn star. Please. This past year has seen promising moments with opportunities that has come close including promises from two, rather significant big-name porn stars.

One with whom volunteered to take my load but fell in love and moved off to be with his new boyfriend. The other I bribed and he took the gifts and ran off to be with his new boyfriend with whom he’d just fallen in love.

Now  that I’m traveling to Northern California and the San Francisco Bay area, I’d hoped that perhaps I might just luck up on an actor or two. Nonesuch. So my desire goes on.

44. Get Medallion status on Delta

Okay, what an odd goal, but I’ve been flying so much and I’m stuck in steerage with everyone else. And so far, I have yet to sit by anyone hot or even a decent looking straight guy. Every plane ride seems to be another female, another old sixtysomething retiree with his golden-age wife, a mother with her four-year-old or a school mar’m. Why can’t I get one hottie?

I doubt Medallion status will help much with that, but it will at least help assure I get a little more legroom and a possible upgrade or two. Long-time readers will know I’ve been hoping for this for a while. I will achieve it (for sure) this year. But if anyone has the inside track on helping me get upgrades, show me some love!

43. More fucking on travel

As simple as that. I attempted something in Las Vegas that didn’t work: I solicited someone to be my regular cum dump. And while I had no trouble finding ass to fuck, sometimes the pursuit of ass gets boring. Good thing Vegas brought a stock of tourists and locals worth breeding (and even enough with whom to have an orgy).

Yet, still, I crave an easy come-over-bend-over-and-be-bred kind of guy. I’ve got a couple of men who I can contact if I’m ever in a lurch or a dry spell while at home. I’d like that on the road.

42. & 41.  Yoga & Weight Loss

I am not someone to goes to the local Y and signs up for a class. I don’t hit any old gym. Teaching me anything physical requires a special talent and I seek out people. Like my trainer late last year (as seen pictured here). I expect people helping me to be in shape themselves (yes, I’ve seen trainers who need a bit of help).

My former trainer was great, if not tragically straight. And despite some of my own misgivings, I signed up with him. But I have a few things that just do not work for me. First, he must keep me motivated. He did so, to a certain extent. But he never really followed through on additional promises to keep on me outside the gym (for which I paid him extra, I might add).

Second, he’s got to be the example I look up to every day. And when he started posting unhealthy things to his Facebook, I had to take a step back some. He stopped motivating me. It all came crashing down.

And my weight came up after losing so much.

But here’s what I learned about myself. The nutritional diet he put me on required a lot of psychological fortitude, which I somehow managed. And while my body didn’t always obey, it did provide some form of willingness to begin getting in shape. Shape which I have not lost completely.

And so, with both those, I want to step more into a yoga situation. But I want someone to work with me individually to set me on the right course for success. I’ve become convinced of the mind-body connection…

40. Stop chewing my nails

I know. Bad habit. I’d just about stopped it but some bumpy flights of late got me started again. I guess a nervous habit. Or I’m just nervous.

39. Upgrade my iPad

Have you seen the Retina display on the new one? (Although it’s not called an iPad 3, that’s basically what it is.) It makes my iPad, bought the first day of the original launch look like a low-resolution, piece of crap.

38. Massage me everywhere

When I lived in Washington, D.C., I had the hottest Filipino with the best muscle body who would come over once or twice a week and work out the kinks. Then in Georgia, I found a spa that had a lovely little Asian boy who helped me out too. Those two both gave great massages and both provided happy endings.

Love a good massage with a good happy endings.

Then I ended up with a great massage therapist but he was a straight Latino. Although very cool with the whole Gay thing, he wouldn’t bother to touch my cock and, no matter how much money was promised and how much goading. Nonetheless, I kept going to him and enjoying the massage part. It was therapeutic.

But he’s moved out of the area and now I’m without a decent massage therapist.

I’ve been looking and trying out a few people. Not a lot of luck so far. I’ve had decent results but nothing remarkable.

Moreover, when I visit other cities, am finding it very difficult to get therapists there to respond and be accommodating.

If you’re a therapist in the San Francisco Bay or Atlanta area (and you’re good), please let me know. Happy endings appreciated but not required. However, I do prefer good-looking non-smokers.

37. Better shoes

I need some. Hard to find. Right now I’m still in two-year-old Old Navy top-siders and six-year-old Rockport sandals.

36. “Read” more for work

Notice I put “read” in quotation marks, as my long commute to work allows me a lot of time to listen to books. Unfortunately, since getting my new car, I’ve been listening to Sirius XM more than anything (my favorite channel is Raw Dog comedy, Channel 99; coincidental it’s got “raw” in the title, huh?). I should be listening to more books.

35. Speaking of Sirius XM, please stop Derek & Romaine

They’re on OutQ, the Gay channel. They attempt to dispense advice to the masses about sex and gay life but neither of whom is qualified in any way, shape or form. Derek is just a prude. And he’s an asshole prude. Sometimes he’s so rude to people I’m amazed anyone bothers to listen to him. Both of them wouldn’t bother to even entertain the concept that barebacking is truly an option. I’ve even heard Romaine have a fit about men with hairy asses being horrible.

Additionally, they barely plan a show and talk about their personal lives as if anyone really gives a shit.

Please, they’ve been on the air too long. Get that shit off the air.

34. Going strong on no jacking off

Every load I’ve shot in 2012 has gone in someone. It’s gone in an ass or a mouth (and it’s rare for it to be a mouth).

33. It’s been 420 for me, finally

In my list of 43 Arbitrary Things when I turned 43, number 21 mentions I’ve never tried the infamous 420. Pot. Mary Jane. Wacky tabacky. Weed. And because of my opposition to smoking, I’ve never smoked pot. I still have never smoked pot. With research and some experimentation (hint to the right), I finally got to discover what the big deal was all about.

It wasn’t a big deal.

Made me even more convinced that (sorry for a little politics) that the stuff should be legalized.

32. More rollercoasters and amusement parks

It’s already been a good year for it. I want to make it a great year.

31. Did you read this?

Why haven’t my readers been commenting? I’m still getting almost 1,200 visitors a day but lately, you fuckers have been quiet. Speak up!

Don’t miss the next part… 30 to 16…. tomorrow.

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April 29, 2012 3 Comments MarkBentson Short URL
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