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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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Travel Diary: My First Scruff Fuck

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Despite the promise of these new smart phone applications, neither Scruff nor Grindr net me much ass. Generally, I find them somewhere between mildly entertaining and irritating, as the guys on there generally want photos, photos and more photos. One bottom near me in Georgia can’t seem to recall what I look like despite the fucking full-frontal face pic on the front of my profile.

For some reason, one day in Vegas, my Scruff was simply blowing up. Grindr also worked, although what I got was a cute lady-boy escort (in male drag) hinting he wanted “dinner and conversation.” I declined. The pancake makeup with the petroleum jelly lens effect on his photo was just too much. If I wanted to fuck a girl, I’d fuck a girl. I don’t.

So on Scruff, which seems a less twinkie place, presented a Montana man for me, I got the urge to merge.

He stood on the beefy side of things, which proved fine by me. He was just a couple of hotels over — still a hike in Vegas, but close enough — with wavy brown hair and a goatee, standing tall as me but with wider shoulders.

We shook hands then proceeded to kiss and strip quickly. Right down to business. I imagine the men at home in the mountains were just as quick to fuck.

He laid on the edge of the bed, his head over it and positioned my cock to fuck his face. I was already hard so no problem there. I worked my knob down his throat but he never even made a gagging noise and, after the first few penetrations, his throat opened up like a charm.

After slobbering all over, I pulled completely out and he got the message, flipping over and presenting his ass. I lubed up just enough and entered his slowly, as his ass was very tight. We’d not discussed condoms, safe sex or anything else.

As I rode his ass, he grunted in pleasure. He enjoyed it.

“Damn that feels so good!” he said. “Fuck it as long as you want!”

“I will.”

“Just make sure I get what I came here for,” he said.

“And what’s that?” I asked.

“A big load in my ass,” he said.

Now that made my cock jump too.

“You want my load?” I asked.

“Oh yea!” he said. “Please breed my fucking hole!”

Of course that begging puts me on a path and before long, I was arching my back and plunging my back into his tenderloin mounds, giving him a marination of my massive DNA like no other cowboy from his parts had gotten.

“Oh fuck!”

I added several more thrusts to assure my juices penetrated deep before pulling out. And he headed home to his corral, feeling okay.

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Travel Diary: Fuck Fest in Sin City

Las-Vegas-Strip

I began my little adventure in Vegas with a fuck fest, inviting several over to my hotel room.

An orgy is something like a soup. You dump a lot of ingredients into a pot, add some heat and hope the flavors meld together.

Asian AssAs with any culinary experiment, some things don’t go perfectly the first time around. But some things do. The Asian and his top friend (I believe more like a boyfriend) who arrived first turned out to be quite a pair. If you find the ass photo appealing, you don’t know the half of it.

I’ve had bossy bottoms before. Generally, they break down into two categories:

  • Prissy.
  • Prissy bitchy.

He was neither. All man. All Asian. All bottom. All smooth. All hot. And he knew what he wanted. Three of us in the room, two of them tops. There were way too many people with clothes and fuck if he was going to put up with that shit.

His humor was captivating. I really enjoy someone who knows that sex can’t be too serious.

The other top, like me, had a geekish appeal. But in this case, he had a much larger cock. A little shorter than me with glasses and a bit socially awkward.

And both these guys had invited others over to join the fun.

I was starting to like them both.

We were admiring the view out of my 24th floor windows. Naked. My cock brushing up against Asian’s ass.

“You’re getting right down to business, aren’t you?” the Top remarked.

“We’re here to fuck,” Asian snapped back.

About that time, a light knock came at the door.

“It’s Room Service!” the Asian said with delight and headed over to answer.

Malaysian CockIn walked a 22-year-old Malaysian. He was thin, small-framed with extraordinarily large nipples and a decent sized cock. He claimed to be versatile in the correspondence we’d had.

He proceeded to disrobe as we moved to the bed. Asian had added lube to my cock and I’d just barely entered inside him when the initial knock came. But now I laid on my back and Asian sat down firmly on my cock.

If I’ve said it once, I will say it again. There’s nothing so wonderful as Asian ass. Smooth on the outside, incredibly tight and warm on the inside. As I glided inside, I reached up and played with his wide, muscular chest and tweaked his dark brown nipples.

Soon the Top friend kneeled behind him and I felt his cock near mine.

It’s one of those sensations I truly enjoy. Two cocks, together, probing the same hole. His pube hairs tickling mine. Oh fuck. It brought me so damn close as we each took turns sliding into the Asian’s ass.

Asian proved to be a talented bottom but not accommodating enough to be double fucked.

Meanwhile, the Malaysian lounged on the bed, stroking. He didn’t engage closely. The Top encouraged him into play at one point, hoping him to fuck the Asian, when suddenly the bottom needed a break.

A knock at the door.

“Room Service!” this time, the chime came from the Top, who answered it.

A slender Black top entered. He began to disrobe as I fucked as I attempted to engage the Malaysian. We kissed. His lips were full and his kisses were indeed amazing. His lithe body squirmed in delight as I stroked his respectable seven inches and brushed against his balls. But when I tapped at his backdoor, he backed away.

“Not my asshole,” he said.

So much for versatility.

I stepped away and re-engaged with the Asian, who by now was hungry for cock again. I’d heard him mumbling with his Top friend about me cumming in his ass.

“No, I’m sure he shot a load in there,” the Asian had said.

So as I entered him, I asked him about it.

He acknowledged he thought he had a load. I told him not yet.

“Haven’t you wondered why I call myself, ‘I blast inside’?” I said.

I pushed him down on the bed, flat onto his stomach, and began to pump him proper. He found the poppers and handed them to me. I took a big snort. Top appeared out of no where. And we both began asking questions.

“Do —you want my load?” I said.

“Yes,” Asian said.

“Tell me you want my load,” I insisted.

“I want you to fuck your cum into my ass,” Asian said.

“Can you feel his raw cock in your ass?” Top asked.

“Oh yea!” Asian said.

“You know he’s going to breed you, right?” Top asked.

“Please!!!” Asian said.

Through all this, I’m pumping and pumping even harder. And soon I am there.

“You’re about to get a really big cumload!” I grunted.

“Oh fuck yea!” Asian said, as he arched his back and thrust his ass up toward my cock.

I went deep and began to throb as I let loose a torrent of cum, coating the insides of his chute and then pumping a little to make sure anyone else — anyone who came along in the future — would know that I had been here and bred this Asian ass.

In this moment, in the silence between seconds, the Asian let out this little sigh.

This boy was made for breeding.

As I recovered, three more men entered. An older white man and his young dark black man. They would stand in a corner and kiss before leaving on their own, ever attempting to integrate with the main group.

The other was a tall, dirty blond versatile with one of those wide, junk-in-the-trunk asses we all know and love. He soon stripped down while the duo went to kissing in a corner.

Now, as I said, an orgy is all about melding of flavors and we had plenty of flavors in the room. At this point, the duo were stuck like glue to one another. I sat between the naked Malaysian and recent Black arrival. And the new tall Dirty Blond was kissing on Top and Asian in a third group. I needed to see some cross-pollination.

I sucked on the Black guy a bit and he sucked on me. I encouraged him toward the center of the room when the duo, who’d barely disrobed, now announced they were leaving.

That prompted Malaysian to start putting on his clothes.

But I successfully got Black man and his nine-incher to the center of the room. While my Asian — already with a nut up his butt — didn’t seem inclined to take him, the Dirty Blond soon was getting fucked and, well, the versatile produced a respectable thick eight-incher that Asian did bend over for in a flash.

The three-way fuck was hot as hell but the duo and Malaysian still left.

Within moments, the Black top let it be known he was close. And soon the grunts were matched and the Black man let loose a gigantic load into Dirty Blond’s ass.

How do I know?

Well, fuck, now I was hard again! I churned that shit up.  His ass was such a cummy mess when I entered it and I fucked it more into him. My Asian bottom, hearing the comments, came around to check it out, popped and boner and displaced me. He rammed his cock inside and within moments, added his spunk to the mix.

The Black man fucked the Dirty Blond some more as I licked one nipple and the Asian the other to try and help the Dirty Blond cum, but it just wasn’t his day. Still, I think we all went home very, very happy.

Or at least, that’s how it seemed to me.

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Travel Diary: My Welcome Load in Vegas

las-vegas

Arriving in Vegas is always an adventure. This time, it turned a little bumpy as, believe it or not, a thunderstorm awaited on our approach to this desert oasis. The bumpy landing ended with a smooth enough transition into the airport and soon I was among the throngs of humanity at McCarran awaiting bags.

No one picked me up. No one welcomed me. And I waited in the humongous taxi line like everyone else until finally pitched into the back of a cab and sent scurrying off to my “resort” destination.

I’m smart enough to know a good cab driver in Vegas and he recognized someone who’d been here before, so he avoided the Strip and approached my hotel from the back, getting me there quickly and efficiently, earning himself a decent tip. My room got an upgrade and soon I was online to see if I could procure an ass.

Coming from the East Coast makes the time thing a little challenge, although jet lag always seems to be a little easier going back. The wet weather helped with the transition from the humid East to the desert West. But still I wasn’t up for running up and down the Strip for a fuck.

The usual collection of folks I’d already lined things up with didn’t seem all that available in that moment — surprise, surprise — including one who will be the subject of a future blog entry (“My Las Vegas ‘Catfish’”).  It’s odd how that whole thing doesn’t work out.

I was tired. I’d ordered room service and I didn’t feel like chasing for ass. I’d just about decided to quit when a little blond bear pinged me on my ad from Craigslist. And it so happened, he mentioned he was in my hotel and was full service.

Generally, one cannot put “bareback” bluntly in ads on Craigslist ads, as usually some condom Nazis go fucking bonkers and begin flagging the shit out of it and the ad goes down (if you include a photo especially). Sometimes you can slip in “bb” or “uninhibited” as hints but dare not include a photo as it raises the ire of the “safe sex only” police.

So I had not gone through the song-and-dance to determine whether he might or might not take me raw. But tonight, as I attempted to swallow a grilled rubber chicken sandwich from the hotel, I decided to get to the point.

“You want to get bred?” I wrote back in a single-line e-mail.

“Fuck yea,” he said. “Here’s my room number.”

“Be there in five minutes,” I responded.

And I knocked in five minutes.

His photo had obviously been taken the moment before he’d sent it, it was that fresh. I am not repulsed by bears — even ones like this one, with hair growing out of every inch of his body. He was a little shorter, a little younger, a bit beefier and stood behind the hotel door practically naked. His fur could have used a bit more care, but he was clean. He sucked me hard then stood, hiking one leg up on the bed and lining my cock up against his pink hole.

I slid inside.

The sweet warmth of an ass is, well, nothing like anything else. That’s why I love topping so much, I guess. That and the energy that soon overtook me as I picked up pace, began grunting and went to town, focused on using his ass for one thing.

As I slid in and out, my ass coated with his spit, a little lube, his ass juice and whatever else was down there. I took out the frustration of a four-hour flight and a day of travel. I began really fucking his ass harder and harder. Then I reached that point of no return and crested over the edge, went down the hill toward my goal.

“FUCK!” I grunted. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it!” he said obediantly.

“Be explicit!” I said, as I pushed his head onto the bed and forced him into a strange doggie style with knees up but head down.

“Please!” he began to beg. “Give me your cum! Shoot your load in my ass! Give me what my ass needs”

And with those words and a few more violent thrusts into that hairy blond ass, I let go the frustration of the day into that ass. My cock throbbed, releasing a flood a cum in wave after wave of gushing white sticky stuff that I slammed deeper into his raw ass.

I pulled out with a pop and his ass began to leak immediately, but he sat down on the floor, turn around and licked my cock clean before I zipped up to head to my room.

Turns out, it was the worst fuck of the trip.

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On My Way to Vegas…

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My week in Las Vegas begins and the exact man who will be my bottom cum slut for the week still isn’t settled, although a few candidates certainly emerged in the search. My favorite has chatted with me but I doubt he comes through and will be the subject of another blog entry, “The Lies Men Tell.”

You see, he sent me photos a few months back. I played dumb and asked for some recently. He sent another set. The two do not match. Face, features, etc., are completely different. They’re not even close.

So among the rest, let’s hope someone comes through.

I’m disappointed no one’s been creative enough to think of ways to impress me, to get on top of the pile, so to speak. For example, when my plane arrives around 9:15 tonight, to be waiting with a sign welcoming me and driving me to my hotel. Someone to carry my bags.

Maybe a couple of people. Certainly, in this town of excess, an limo isn’t out of the question. How about a limo filled with naked, hot boys ready for a fuck on the way to my hotel?

Okay, my imagination is getting away from me. But a charming, hot guy who takes me on a night drive isn’t out of the question.

Where’s he at?

So who will be my cum slut companion for the week? We wait and hope for a sign. Primarily a sign at the airport.

 

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