All posts in Crystal Meth

Tina, That Evil Bitch

meth
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I don’t like meth bottoms.

Sure, they’re insatiable bottoms. Sure, they want my cum. Sure, they beg for it. Sure, they can take a fucking.

They chew. They move too much. They’re just plain a fucking mess.

No matter how much I tell the fuckers I’m not into the Tina queens, they’ll show up.

I’m traveling again and I had a beefy fiftysomething man with some nice nips on BarebackRT. My profile on BBRT clearly states “hell no” on drug use. And for some reason, I think on a Tuesday night with a mature man, I’m safe.

The smacking begins as soon as he’s naked (and he’s stopped sucking).

Maybe he took his teeth out.

I can’t stand the shit.

I pretend to cum quickly and send him home.

Yes, I fake orgasms.

I go to bed unsatisfied.

If I wanted drugs to fuck me over, I’d use them.

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Children Are Petri Dishes of Walking Colds, Flu and Worse

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I love my nephew. At 3½ years old, he’s among the highlights of my life. I am one of his surrogate fathers as his real father has largely abandoned him for drugs.

One of the few bonuses of my increased time at home is I get to spend a lot more time with this adorable creature, who will grow up absolutely gorgeous and totally straight. Yes, I can tell from an early age. I read men (and boys) quickly and can easily categorize them Opens a new window from this blog.

And despite what you may think, I will never touch my nephew in an inappropriate way and if I find someone who does, I will finally make good on the promise I made to my molester Opens a new window from this blog. Death at my own hands.

If you’ve read my Dark Passenger Opens a new window from this blog series, you will know about my own molestation and the suffering dichotomy that resulted from a gay boy emerging early into sexual manhood. This blog wasn’t intended just to advocate for barebacking. I started it to explore and reconcile the psycho-sexual and emotional damage and figure out where I needed my life to go.

I’ve gotten off on a bit of a tangent because of the medicine I’m taking plus the fact I didn’t get much of a night’s sleep thanks to coughing, congestion and headaches.

My adorable nephew gave me the only thing he could give me all by himself: His cold.

Now with that virus coursing through me and surrounding the general area, I’m forced to take it easy. Last night happened to be Atlanta’s CumUnion Opens a new window from this blog that I’d hoped to finally attend. Again Opens a new window from this blog, it coincided with a full moon on Friday Opens a new window from this blog, which tends to increase horniness. Add to that a lot of men are “visiting” family, so the opportunity to fucking more ass is available.

Believe it or not, while I’m horny and, with drugs, can stand upright and generally feel okay. Believe it or not, even though I have only 99° temperature (not even 99.1°, just 99°), I’m staying home and away from others.

If I can help it, no one else gets this cold.

While some twits seem to think I’m out changing people’s statuses by stealthing Opens a new window from this blog and passing along STDs, I am not. As I wrote recently Opens a new window from this blog, if I stealth, they leave with the same status as they had prior to my fucking them.

In this case, I won’t fuck them and no one will suffer through an ordinary cold. Except me.

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What About the Children?

What About the Youth of Today and Their Opinions on Bareback? FUCK EM!
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Every time some political football enters the arena — the national debt, gun control, Medicare, climate change, healthcare or whatever the issue happens to be — and one side runs out of arguments, there’s this moment when the pundit tilts his head to one side, gets this misty-eyed reflection and might even choke up a little. And then he or she says something about how this issue will ruin the lives of our children, the next generation, our children’s children or some crap like that.

It’s bullshit. But it’s a reflexive moment where everyone, whether you’ve got children or not, that our instinctual survival-of-the-species part of the monkey-brain kicks in and we collectively think something needs to be done.

Why do you think we all find babies and even the youngest of other species so adorably cute and cuddly? Puppies and kittens? Baby seals?

This is instinct telling us to take care and protect our young.

Now that I’ve explained it, let’s talk a little about the recent attacks on the Bareback Brotherhood Link Opens in a New Window, my fellow bareback bloggers, bareback hookup sites like BarebackRT.com Link Opens in a New Window, our family of pornographers and, more particularly, me.

The Sudden Focus of World AIDS Day

Over the past few years, I’ve come to expect it around December 1, World AIDS Day. Funny how one day prompts some assholes who ignore a class of people living with HIV and AIDS for a whole year but become indignant when they discover bareback sex and groups like the BBBH. One particular person who bugchased Link Opens in a New Window successfully and documented it received some particularly violent threats this year, including details on how they’d like to kill him.

It’s not technically irony (Alanis  Morissette ruined that for all of us), but the condom Nazis Link Opens in a New Window who want to wrap the world in plastic so no one dies of AIDS wants to kill someone for getting AIDS. Just weird.

Once I’d engage these hypocrites who ignore all the other ways our people are dying Opens a new window from this blog, who don’t give a shit that the Gay culture of steroid-muscled youth is built around smoke-filled bars serving alcohol with gun-toting drug dealers selling crystal meth (or “Tina”), ecstasy (or “Molly”), and cocaine.

Where’s your righteous indignation there?

But I don’t. I ignore the attacks nowadays. I delete the anonymous posts to my site wishing I would die or suggesting ways they would kill me. This very website fends off multiple cyber-attacks every second Opens a new window from this blog.

I refused to acknowledge or even link to the clever posts who have all of 200 followers on Twitter Link Opens in a New Window but figure out how to search for my brothers in cum and suggest others block them.

Twitter People to Block If You’re One of Those Self-Righteous, Plastic-Loving Pricks

I’ve been kind enough to compile the list myself. On Twitter alone, I’ve got six barebacker lists with confirmed men all over the world who love to fuck raw:
Blue Bullet One Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet Two Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet Three Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet Four Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet Five Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet Six Link Opens in a New Window

I’ve listed all the Bareback Brotherhood members in four lists:
Blue Bullet One Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet Two Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet Three Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet 
Four Link Opens in a New Window

You’ll also want to check out my fellow co-founders of the BBBH to see their lists.
Blue Bullet @ch4suk Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet @gapozathens Link Opens in a New Window

That should cover all the so-called evil (but very enlightened and sexy) people online you need to block.

There’s even barebackers who somehow misinterpret the basics of the Bareback Brotherhood with strange, concocted vendettas out for me.

Hiding Behind ‘the Children’

Like some final bastion of refuge, the truth is arguing that safer sex is the only sex doesn’t work. The fear that came with AIDS/HIV of the 1980s and 1990s simply doesn’t work. HIV/AIDS is now defined by the medical community as a chronic condition Link Opens in a New Window, like “arthritis, asthma, cancer, COPD [and] diabetes.” It’s like living under the constant “orange” threat after 9/11.

The argument goes that we older folks are influencing younger people in their late teens and early twenties to accept bareback sex as normal and natural. Our “influence” is causing these youths to engage in so-called “unsafe” activity.

No, it’s causing them to act natural.

The most unnatural thing is to stick a piece of plastic on your cock in order to have an intimate act.

It’s not influenced by barebackers.

These assholes have the same kind of sense that we’re converting young men into barebackers the same way the homophobic think the Gays are converting youth into homosexuals.

It’s just ludicrous.

Talk to one. He will tell you about the love for the cum in his ass or dumping a load in a bare ass. It’s nothing to do with influence. It’s a natural appeal to do what comes naturally.

I’m Not Changing Anyone’s Mind

I know I’m not. I know I could never have a reasonable conversation with one of these jackoffs. I also know people who’ve been reading my site about stealthing Opens a new window from this blog and bugchasers Opens a new window from this blog and barebacking are misinterpreting the basics.

I can’t change a mind.

But what I do know is I appreciate the attention.

My readers are higher than ever, especially since some female porn slut thinks she’s got the upper hand on me and she can bareback all the guys she wants but men fucking raw is naughty, naughty.

Well, put me on Santa’s naughty list, take the saddle off the reindeer and let’s ride raw.

Fuck the children! I mean the LEGAL children of age, of course. No stocking for me.

 

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What’s Killing People … It’s Not Sex

Causes of U.S. Deaths in 2009
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“It’s good to see a DDF guy on here. There aren’t that many in Atlanta.”

His message popped up on Scruff following a common, “Hello, How are you?”

Of all the things. My profile on Scruff calls myself “healthy, non-smoker” but doesn’t really plunge that much further into the “drug and disease free” issue. As I read the guy’s profile further, he said he was looking for a man who “didn’t think monogamy was a type of wood.”

Funny.

But this fortysomething asshole was alone for a reason. He hadn’t figured out some fundamental truths.

“You, sir, need an attitude adjustment,” I replied.

“Oh,” he replied. “You must be POZ.”

“I have too much to live for than to waste my life with someone who will kill me.”

What the fuck?

“First,” I replied. “I never said what my status happened to be.”

“Second, you need to get the facts about what’s killing Americans.”

I began to cite the statistics included below here. He messaged the word, “nut” before blocking me after the first couple.

Let me tell you some truths:

Causes of U.S. Deaths in 2009

Red Bullet HIV/AIDS: 17,000
Red Bullet Heart Disease: 599,000
Red Bullet Cancer: 468,000
Red Bullet Smoking: 430,000
Red Bullet Gunshots: 298,000
Red Bullet Stroke: 129,000
Red Bullet Alcohol/Drinking: 85,000
Red Bullet Alzheimer’s Disease: 79,000
Red Bullet Diabetes: 71,300
Red Bullet Flu and Pneumonia: 53,700
Red Bullet Drugs: 38,300
Red Bullet Suicide: 34,000
Red Bullet Vehicle Accidents: 33,800
Red Bullet Murder: 15,200

Even though 100 percent of all HIV/AIDS cases are not Gays, you could attribute all 17,000 are to Gay men and assign the 10 percent to the other diseases. It’s not until after gunshots and before stroke that there’s less deaths from HIV/AIDS.

No one has an uproar over processed foods or smoking. Just consider the facts.

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Abortion Tales #2: The Tweaker and the Tittie Twins

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I’m getting too fucking old for this.

As I mentioned (and no one seems to want to read Opens a new window from this blog since the stats show only a few people have checked it out) I’ve been focusing on getting out of my job situation, so my attention has been focused elsewhere. However, I decided Wednesday evening since I’d be downtown for an appointment that it would be a convenient time to hit the adult bookstore Inserection and get a load out of my system.

Now, I was especially frustrated because I’d had a massage from a fucking hottie. He was naked. I was naked. He teased me for the hour, bushing against my balls and cock and all my erotic spots. When it gets to that moment for the happy ending, the massage ends abruptly.

I didn’t get off. He didn’t get a tip.

I knew Wednesday nights were not ideal at Inserection Opens a new window from this blog but usually I can find some ass. Since I would be in Atlanta anyway (I live in the far northern suburbs), I figured it would be worth a shot.

To improve my chances of ass, I always post an ad or two to Craigslist and BarebackRT.com Link Opens in a New Window to let bottoms know a top will be at Inserection. Sometimes it works Opens a new window from this blog. And often with these posts, I’ll get messages from people asking that I skip Inserection and come to their place instead.

Sent away by a bottom

I get the usual assortment of messages. The old, ugly and overly used (Grade F Asses Opens a new window from this blog). A few interesting ones do show up, including one from a 28-year-old bottom. We get to texting and he invites me over.

He mentions he’ll be on his back deck.

It’s early evening and not quite dark. I expect though it’s an enclosed deck and he’ll be ass up and waiting.

I drive the three miles and pull up to the house, pulling into the driveway. I can clearly see the back deck where a man — obviously in his mid-40s — is standing. He’s not horrible looking or anything. I get out of the car and there’s that awkward moment. He comes down off the deck. As the awkwardness continues, I finally say, “Am I at the wrong place?”

“Yes, you are,” he says.

“Sorry about that,” I say, knowing I’m at the only home with this address with a man with an iPhone texting from a back deck.

“Thanks for stopping by,” he says as he shakes my hand.

Attempts at the adult bookstore

I get in my car and drive to Inserection adult bookstore, pay the $11 admission and begin cruising.

The crowd appeared thin and a few too many familiar faces walked among the groups. Also one of the worst cruisers is there: A man who slaps on a little makeup, a cheap wig, a bad blouse, panties, pantyhose and high heels.  I hesitate to call it a drag queen or a cross-dresser due to the horrible effort put into looking decent. There’s no effort. I don’t mind it’s a slut. Some guys are into it. That’s cool. But not me and it’s too aggressive.

Anyway, as I’m walking around, I eye an older man who’s big and bulky with big muscles wearing a tight t-shirt with protruding nipples. (Oh, and he’s got a wedding band.) He reads to me as a bottom. His cock is obviously small. He’s not going for any gloryholes. He wants his nips worked over.

With guys like this, their nips are the gateway to their ass, I know.

We hit a booth together. His shirt was up as I went to work. I’m great at nipple work; it’s one of my specialties. I had a boyfriend years ago who could cum just from my nip work. Within moments, I’ve got his four-inch cock rock hard. He’s groaning from all my nip nibbling, chewing, flicking, licking, twisting, contortion, punching, teasing, tickling, pulling, brushing, pinching and other manipulations…  both hard and soft. He’s got a bit of stink to him, which really isn’t my thing.

I’m moving my hands (when they’re free) to his ass. I am finding his asshole, which is dry but puffy. He either has hemorrhoids or he’s been fucked plenty. But he hasn’t been fucked today. As I poke and prod, he moves his ass away to prevent too much work.

Seems like this one isn’t going to work out.

He bends down to suck me. He does well, but not so irresistibly that I feel like I could cum from his blowjob. I thank him for his work and zip up.

About then, I get a text message from the supposedly 28-year-old bottom.

“ETA,” he asks, which means, “Estimated time of arrival.”

You can see our exchange on my iPhone.

I’d sent him a photo of my cock which barely showed my goatee. And my stats clearly stated in my ad that I was clean-shaven. But he’d ignored that.

I didn’t bother to point out that he obviously wasn’t 28 years old.

As we texted back and forth, him begging me to come over, me looking for ass among the dregs of humanity at the adult bookstore, soon a balding Asian began eyeing me.

Now we all know I have a little something for the more exotic among us.

As I stood upstairs by a vacant room, the Asian passed me and closed the door. But it didn’t lock. An unusual technique. Normally men step into the room with the door open and eye their object of interest.

I opened the door. He stood in the dim light, playing with his nipples through his shirt. I stepped into the room. He pulled up his shirt. His alabaster, perfect skin revealed, delightfully smooth with very nice pecs and nickle-sized nips just protruding out. But as soon as I flicked them, they stood erect.

His cock, a respectable five inches, never really got so hard. And his ass, so nice and smooth and bubbly. I stepped behind him while still working his nips. I felt his asshole, his pucker perfectly dry. He didn’t pull away. I spit on my cock and aimed it at his hole.

He was much smaller than I was. I took again his nipples in my fingertips. This man preferred the light touch and I knew how to really work them that way too. I did it in a way he’d enjoy. All I needed him to do was arch his back a little so his asshole would line up better with my cock.

As I continued, with my wet cock tickling his sphincter and pleasuring his nips, his ass never moved. But he jerked intensely and he breathed heavily.

He was getting close.

Fuck that. I wasn’t going to get someone else off if I wasn’t getting what I wanted.

I dropped everything. Pulled up my pants and was out the locked door. He didn’t even have time to pull down his shirt or pull up his pants. He stood there exposed, wide-mouthed as I walked out, the door wide open.

He recovered after a couple of beats and closed the door.

The texting continued with the bottom. He wanted to know when I shaved the beard off (I’m interviewing for jobs, so I was told to shave it off by a few recruiters; plus it just looks nicer during the summer).

I wonder around and get a couple of attempted blowjobs but no ass action. One guy even asked me to piss in his mouth, but no ass.

Back to the bottom

Finally I decide to head back over to fuck and breed the bottom who earlier turned me away.

I drive up and this time, he’s a bit more welcoming. He meets me and we step up onto the deck, but go inside the house.

It is between now and the next 20 minutes that I should have left because it’s that long before we start doing a fucking thing. He first has to prepare a daybed. It’s got something like 30 pillows on it. Then he can’t find the remote to turn off “The Voice,” which is blaring on the television. He keeps searching his closet for something — for what, I’m not sure. He also refreshes his drink.

Then he gets lube — petroleum jelly — an unusual choice.

Finally he’s ready.

All through this, he’s chomping gum. And I mean CHOMPING it. I’m suspecting Tina use, but maybe it is just gum. But he is darting around his place like a crystal meth user cleaning. But I also noticed that drink is a pretty strong alcohol, so I’m guessing he’s a little buzzed.

When he finally gets on the bed to suck me, he takes breaks to work his jaw.

No gum.

He’s tweaked out of his gourd.

He can’t suck for than a few seconds without pausing in order to work his jaw. I’m afraid he’s going to bite my cock off. That fear drives me to take control.

I put him on his back. He puts some petroleum jelly on my hard cock.

“That’s a big one,” he says. “I’m not sure I can take it.”

I’m rubbing some jelly into his ass. I probe it a little. As my fingertip works past the sphincter, I touch the tip of something. I touch the tip of a small turd. Yes, a turd.

“I’m really going to need you to use a condom,” he says. “Don’t worry. I’ve got some condoms.”

Now he’s saying this as I am touching a turd and using petroleum jelly.

This guy must know he’s not clean but he’s also a complete idiot since petroleum jelly breaks down a condom Opens a new window from this blog.

But I’m horny. I’m fucked sloppy holes. At least his isn’t nasty.

I position him up, putting his legs over my shoulders. I don’t ask. I just put my cock at his hole and put it in. It breaks in.

It’s not pleasant.

The small, hard turd moves toward his prostate and becomes a rough rock scratching against the underside of my cock.  He’s trying to resist me, but I keep pressing forward.

“What are you doing?” he says.

“Fucking you,” I say.

“I’ve been nothing but nice to you,” he says. “You don’t have to be mean.”

“You’ve done nothing but jerk me around all day,” I say.

I begin fucking in earnest. I try to aim down to get that turd out of my way. But that little hard piece of shit won’t move and I’m more and more afraid it’s actually going to scratch my cock and add fecal matter into a wound on my cock.

I can’t focus on fucking. He’s chomping a lot. He’s jerking. He’s moving too much, squirmy even. It’s all not working for me. As horny as I am, that’s all I can do. I’m not going to be able to cum even though I’ve got something like two weeks worth of blue balls.

I pull out.

“This isn’t going to work,” I say.

“Huh?”

I begin putting on my clothes.

“Oh,” he says. “This is revenge for me turning you away earlier.”

“No man,” I say. “You’re not clean.”

Then the dude does the craziest thing ever. He sticks his finger in his ass, pulls it out and sniffs it.

“I’m fine,” he says.

“Believe me,” I say. “You’re not.”

He disappears into another room. In a couple of seconds, he returns with a white towel, wiping his ass.

“See,” he shows me a clean white towel. “My ass is perfectly clean.”

“Look,” I say. “You’ve got a small, hard turd right up against your prostate. It’s scratching my cock and making it uncomfortable to fuck you. Beside that, your working your jaw on Tina is driving me fucking crazy. I hate fucking with tweakers. You have a nice one.”

He stands there shocked and naked as I walk out the door.

I go home. Blue balls. Still.

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