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Behind Dead Eyes (Part Three)

behind-dead-eyes

Be sure to read Part One and Part Two

We left the room, his ass richly seeded with two of my loads planted deep. He was hot in pursuit of more cum.

Over the course of the next hour, we would bump into one another. A semi-straight man pulled him into a room and bred him, degrading his “faggot ass” and filling his pussy full of cum. It only got him hotter. And when we encountered each other and he recounted the story, I wanted to see him get bred again.

The Wednesday night crowd at the adult bookstore just didn’t seem to be living up to the promise, I was about to give up. But something magical started happening.

Within about 10 minutes of one another, two bottoms got naked and just sat in open rooms waiting for cock.

I’m standing upstairs watching one and then the other. Both are respectable, although one is a muscular black man and quite attractive.

My friend comes upstairs and shortly following him is a tall black man. They make a bee-line for an open room and I’m invited in.

The black top isn’t real happy I’m there, so I’m relegated to watching and jacking my cock some. As the latte-skinned top peals off his clothes, he reveals massive pecs and a perfection of a body. When his shorts come off, the cock that springs forth is one of those massive ones you see in porn.

My friend’s eyes widen.

He  kneels naked and goes to sucking on this huge arm that, for all the trite “baby arm” references, I’m guessing it’s larger than that.

As my friend, now with three loads in his ass, sucks, the black top pushes his head deeper onto that humongous appendage. He’s choking. The width alone cannot fit down any throat, no matter how much anyone relaxes.

The top bends over to feel my friend’s ass. It’s a hint.

Eventually, after sucking a while, my friend glances at me and I mouth, “Offer your ass.”

After choking for too long on the monster, now covered with a thick spit, and the top playing with a slightly out of reach ass, the bottom lays on his back and his ankles float naturally toward the ceiling.

The top jerks his slicked cock and slaps it against the hole. The bottom is so thin and his hole was tight for me. I’m wondering how it will accommodate this elephantine cock.

The top stops slapping the ass, pauses and turns around. He grabs his pants.

Fuck.

I’m hoping he’s searching for lube. Maybe poppers.

The top is trying to find the right pocket and then pulls it out. A Magnum condom.

He hurls it at the bottom.

If only I’d had time to train my friend. Bottoms can sabotage condoms easily. But I’d never had the chance to teach him any techniques. Dumbfounded, he holds the condom and then hands it back to the top, who rips it open and, like a porn star, puts the shiny plastic over his cock.

Some spit follows and, luckily, the previous loads aren’t all dried out. The top positions it at the opening of this tiny bottom’s hole and, with his massive muscles, pushes in.

The bottom’s eyes open wider than ever, his mouth gapes and… well… he’s screaming, “OH FUCK!”

It slides into him. Some how. It seems physically impossible. But it is.

The bottom tries to control his massive black man’s pace. He attempts to stop the onslaught. But he can’t. And the black man begins to own the little bitch bottom the way he wants.

As he fucks him, rolling his hips, I can watch the muscles in his well-defined back, ass and legs move with precision and rhythm. There’s a musicality to it. It’s not a simple in and out. There’s a pumping and side to side, up and down, circular. It’s a dimensional fuck.

He’s got a technique that’s exquisite to watch.

“I want you to cum inside me,” the bottom says. “I don’t think I can take this cock much longer.”

I’m imagining the top has heard this before. So he grunts an approval and then speeds up and, quite frankly, proceeds to fucking with some force.

I’m surprised my friend survives this onslaught as I watch the strain of how the top’s muscular arms pull the bottom’s legs toward him at the same time the top’s hips force forward. It’s a collision of the black’s thighs to the white’s ass.

“I’m cumming,” the gutteral grunts.

And he fucks even harder, if that’s possible. Slamming with force. I can see my friend’s cock swinging flaccid. Yet, he seems content in a weird way.

Then he pulls out and pulls off the condom, tossing it in the small trash can in the room. My friend is on his knees, sucking the remaining cum off the cock.

“I usually pull out to cum,” the top says. “I don’t usually do that.”

Neither of us say anything.

I’ve only got my pants open, so I zip up. As the top begins to put his clothes on, he explains how he prefers one-on-one and not three-ways. This is the first time anyone has ever watched him fuck. We all make small take.

I think my bottom friend and I are thinking the same thing.

Finally he leaves and we close the door behind him. I neglect to lock it, although it does no good because the other two bottoms are out there giving free fucks. We aren’t disturbed.

My friend’s pants are down soon and I’m fishing around the trash for the condom. I find it. Pull it out.

It’s so huge. I could never really get it on me inside out. I try though. But the tip where all that white juiciness is located would never be exposed. And the condom is so stretched out now. So I take my fingers on the inside-out condom and push it inside his raw hole.

I know he’s really raw inside his ass. As I’m adding the fourth load to his mix, I push in deep and along the edges. I want to make sure that the DNA contributors from these three men bond with this bottom boy. That we all become a part of him and he know it. That he feels this.

As I push the condom in and out, the slimy goodness disappears more and more and now there’s just a film of ass juices on the condom.

My cock is hard. I want to fuck him some but I know he’s sore.

“I need to cum,” he says.

He flips over and I play with his ass while he jerks his cock. Soon he’s shooting his load.

As we clean up and get ready to go, I admit there’s something about him that attracts me. Something deeper than his looks. Something more than his twisted sexual nature. And as I look into those brown eyes and again get lost in the limbo, there’s a recognition there.

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Behind Dead Eyes (Part One)

behind-dead-eyes

The throb of the satellite radio caused the lights to move to beat. I topped the stairs and could see his tall, lithe body as a shadow. We closed the gap, hesitated for a moment to see each other and then began to kiss.

His lips were supple, almost betraying by how little real estate they occupied his face. But his tongue had a lizard-like quality. Darting into the recesses of my mouth and finding everything that I hid there. I swallowed my gum before he could scoop it up.

I pulled his body close to mine. Despite its thinness, I felt almost no bone. It had a sinew quality, almost snake-like.

While I was not in the Garden of Eden. Far from it. I was in an adult bookstore in Atlanta. I felt almost as if this were my temptation to take a bite of the apple.

Wait a moment.

I’d already bitten. To me, there would be no doubt. This temptation was too great. I wanted this man or devil or whatever mystery he held.

I cupped his incredible ass through the tight jeans and knew that this would be a fuck never to forget.

We found a vacant room and closed the door and locked it.

Our kissing resumed and, in something as close to romantic as I get, we slowly undressed. I felt every inch of his smooth skin. His short, curly brown hair provided enough length to grab it in a fist but something prevented me.

What the fuck?

Was I losing my edge?

I mean, this little fucker wanted to be used by me. We’d met on BarebackRT.com and he knew exactly what a twisted mindfuck I’d provide, as he’d found this blog first then sought me out on that hook-up site. Yet here I am, tenderly kissing a little slut and enjoying the fuck out of it.

* * *

‘Shut up.’

‘What do you mean shut up?’

‘I mean,’ the internal dialog continues. ‘Shut the fuck up! There’s a hardon! What the fuck does it matter whether we actually treat this one like all the others or not.’

‘It matters,’ the other voice says. ‘There’s a reputation to uphold. There’s no fucking tenderness to fucking. Fuck! Dump cum! Go!’

‘That’s the encounters that are written about,’ the voice points out. ‘What about all the breedings that don’t get an entry.’

‘Some of them are pretty brutal.’

‘And some of them are not.’

A new voice enters: ‘How about all of you shut the fuck up!’

* * *

His skin feels like silk and that tongue — fucking hell, that tongue! I can’t wait to feel it on my body. He’s not wearing any underwear.

With our pants down around our knees, he kneels to begin sucking. I can now feel the full talent of his tongue across the entire based of my throbbing seven inches. He looks up at me, his deep brown eyes look up wanting… something. His mouth open. His oval face staring up and seeming to ask for a kind of approval. I just put my hand gently into his soft curls and guide him onto my cock.

I close my eyes and lose myself a moment, just concentrating on the sensation of him, his mouth, it’s motion up and down on my cock. He’s pretty good. Blowjobs generally lack a je ne sais quoi about them and cannot get me off. I try to find something remarkable about his. I mean, his tongue is longer than most and he’s doing a better than average job. But it’s just not all that great. But I love feeling his hair in my right hand.

* * *

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘Huh?’

‘You’re actually noticing how his hair feels?’ the voice says. ‘How gay is that?’

‘Shut up.’

‘You’re getting soft in your old age.’

‘Shut the fuck up!’

* * *

I lifted him up and we kissed a moment before pushing him down to a doggie position. That’s when his ass opened up to me and I saw the brownish gray pucker for the first time.

His ass overall was graced with peach fuzz hair in a light brown. Interestingly, it seemed as if someone had groomed the little hair follicles perfectly as they lay in a starburst pattern around his hole. I didn’t approach with my normal caution.

With most bottoms, you wonder if he might be clean. Even if you know he’s washed up, you wonder just how well. But with him, my tongue went lapping at his hole and only tasted the sweetness of his flesh.

His hand began slapping the leatherette mattress in this dimly lit sex den and he moaned.

The hairs of his ass were so very soft, as if he’d conditioned them. I’d never licked hairs so soft. Hairs below the waist can be wiry and stiff. But his were like cashmere yarn. As I ran my fingertips along his crack and pried him open more for my tongue to dart into the damp hole, I continued exploring to find the fine hairs of his balls and pubes were equally fine and soft.

I smelled him and found the scent undeniable.

* * *

‘You’re a fucking moron.’

‘What?’

‘He smells good?’ the voice toys. ‘What next? China patterns?’

‘Fuck off,’ the other voice responds. ‘It’s fun.’

‘Fun?’ the voice slaps back. ‘You’re going to be pussy whipped.’

* * *

With enough ass eating, it’s so juicy that I know my cock will slide inside. So I stand. He slips off his shoes and pants. I remove my pants too, finding some poppers in the pockets for him, tossing it beside his outstretched hand where’s it’s continued to slap the mattress. Soon we’re both naked and I’m slicking up my cock with more of my spit. I put it at his hole and push.

He takes a hit off the poppers. The head of my cock is soon inside him.

He’s breathing hard. But his ass is backing up. And my cock slides further inside. Until all of it is inside him.

“You wanted that ass,” he says.

“You bet I did,” I respond.

I begin fucking in earnest. I twist my hips and arch my back. I change my pace. I find angles. I want him to enjoy it as well.

* * *

‘Why the fuck does he need to enjoy it?’ the voice says.

‘So he’ll come back for more.’

‘Why the fuck does that matter?’

‘Because,’ the other voice says, ‘I want this ass again.’

‘It’s not like there aren’t other asses out there,’ the voice says. ‘Younger, tighter asses.’

‘But this is different.’

‘No. It isn’t.’

* * *

“I want you to breed my ass,” he says, breaking my introspection.

“You want my load?” I can’t deny his ass is fucking fantastic. I really don’t need poppers to pop one off. But poppers do make it feel so much better. As I fuck him, sliding into his silky hole, feeling it grip my cock, he occasionally squeezes it.

Oh I want to unload.

“Yes,” he says, practically breathless.

“Or do you want this to last?”

“Cum whenever you want,” he responds. “Just make sure I get your load.”

I keep fucking, focusing on the sensation of his ass. Occasionally I run my hands along his lithe body, his smooth skin.  Perfect. A body of perfection.

I’ve fucked a lot of beautiful men in my life. Muscular. Models. But this one. Something was different.

I had to stop thinking, stop intellectualizing and focus on the task at hand:

Breeding ass.

As I looked down at the dim light, I could see my spit-lubed cock sliding in and out of that pucker. And I just couldn’t hold back any longer. I reached for the poppers, found them and took a huge snort.

“Want my load?”

“Yessss!”

I picked up the pace.

“Tell me you want it!”

“Please breed my hole!”

I could feel his hole twitch at the words and the pinpoint of the poppers began to drive me toward my orgasm.

Another pump into his ass, his raw ring around my cock, sensing every little bit of it touching me. Feeling his urging me on, backing up into my thrusts, begging for it now.

“Please give me your cum.”

I was grunting now, going into that place where I disappear and only my cock lives. My cock and cum. Boiling. Reaching that fever pitch that would bring it in a surge, breaking through a barrier. I could feel it like a tsunami inside, bursting though some plug. This was one of those loads. I’d obviously built it up over time and somewhere along its pipeline path, it met resistance and now was bursting through. I felt both pain and pleasure at once.

His ass clenched. I think I am screaming. Or grunting. Or making some sort of noise.

My cum is slamming into his ass walls, surging out of my cock. The pain is a distant memory and now all I feel is relief.

I remember to move a little as my cock throbs in his ass. I want to make sure he knows I’m painting the inside of his ass with my cum. My DNA. That this perfect little specimen of a man will know his perfection has been ruined by this geek.

But I’m still recovering from the intensity of the initial moments. The cum is still flooding out. I can feel it around the head of my cock and down the sides. I fuck a little and the sensation of a “squish” comes.

The popper blindness recedes and I’m breathing hard.

That was one of the most intense orgasms ever.

On to Part Two

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The Problem with Bisexuals

bisexuals

I’ve never truly believed in bisexuals. Okay, I believe people can be bisexual, but I don’t think men teeter-totter in the center between straight and gay.

As I wrote when I broke down the male population, Kinsey’s scale creates the only perfect spot in the middle of purely heterosexual (a zero) and purely homosexual (a six) if you place it at 3½. Most men will end up at a 3 or a 4, not directly in the middle.

Alas, that brings me to the spot I am now with a young man with whom I am debating. He so much wants to be used and abused as a bottom on his gay side yet maintain his use of women on his straight. He likes to think he can teeter-totter between the two worlds.

Or better yet, he thinks he can make a choice and then abide by it.

It’s as if someone who enjoys both pizza and cheeseburgers when, one day, he chooses to only eat cheeseburgers and avoid pizza for the rest of his life. Can he truly make such a transition?

Of course not.

I mean, bisexuals are pigs. There’s nothing hotter than a bi boy begging for your load — unless it’s a straight boy. But somehow fooling yourself into thinking you’ll actually join our club full-time is bullshit.

Now why am I not coming down hard on this little fucker and claiming he’s just another closet case who needs to get honest? Cause the honest truth is he’s fucked 10 times more girls than guys who have fucked him. It’s disappointing. If I had easy access, I’d try to train him into a cum-craving bottom like he should be.

But my best talent is a good read. And what I read is someone in conflict who won’t go quietly into a full-time life as a Kinsey 6.

This one, we lose.

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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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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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