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Travel Journal: The Asian Con Artist

Asian-Ass
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I’ve written much too often of my affinity for Asian ass. It goes without saying that the tight and smooth ass of this Far East delicacy can be one which I enjoy immensely, although I am an equal opportunity fucker and find other flavors equally amazing.

When visiting the West Coast, I am afforded greater opportunity to indulge in this delicious flavor and sometimes solicit it. Such was the case during my recent visit to Northern California, when I posted a Craigslist ad asking for Asian Ass to fuck. I’d been specific and requested my usual non-smoking variety.

When it comes to Asians, age makes no difference. The saying regarding African Americans that “black doesn’t crack” refers to their youthful appearance. It seems Asians don’t turn to raisins. They’re smooth until they’re fucking ancient.

I got several hits from my ad but the one that kept my attention was a delicate Taiwanese just up I-880 from me. He wanted to host and be ass up and waiting. Some negotiation later and after dark, I was on my way.

I hesitate sometimes to do this because I’m in unfamiliar territory and I don’t know what’s the good part of town and what’s bad. But still I end up in a questionable part of town walking into a small condo.

As I do, the smell hits me. It’s undeniable. He smokes.

Even though I’ve asked and he’s said no, he doesn’t. He does. He lives alone as this tiny condo is such I’m walking in the front door directly into the bedroom.

But that ass. I walk up to it and touch it. He grunts. I begin feeling his body.

The photos I’ve included here do not do this man justice. His muscular body is tight. His waist is no more than 29 inches around and it’s perfectly muscular. Yet he has a little meaty pecs and nice nipples.

And I’d been building up to this moment. It was getting late, I was horny and I didn’t feel like driving back to my hotel and starting an ass search. So the proverbial one in the hand…

I dropped my pants.

A little lube and breathing through my mouth helped. I never could get completely rock hard but hard enough that he seemed impressed. We never changed position. I just mounted him and made sure to keep him face down so we never kissed. In fact, I wrapped one hand around his chest and I put him in a choke hold with my other hand.

I then forced my cock into his hole. With my hips forcefully pummeling his ass. My waist was massive compared to his. My body weight pinned him down. My hand around his neck allowed me to feel his pulse quickening as I then raised myself up on my toes and really began to slam into him.

“You want my load?”

“Yes,” he said in obviously broken English. “I want you cum. Put it in my ass.”

“Want it no matter what?”

“Please breed my boy pussy.”

I fucked him even harder. It took some real force for me to bring my cum to the surface. I always have a harder time cumming under these conditions. But finally, I reached the spot and shot my load into his ass. I grunted with my exertion. He released a sigh of content. Jizzjoy. I wanted it.

He wanted me to stay but now the stink returned and I needed to go. I begged away and pulled on my clothes, leaving quickly.

I wish he hadn’t lied and I hadn’t invested my whole day chatting with him when I could have had a Filipino… a little heftier but a lot less smelly.

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3… 2… 1… BLAST-OFF! The Countdown to iBLASTinside’s Birthday (1 of 3)

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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.

Goodbye Sin City…

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As I sign off and bid Sin City a fond farewell, I reflect back. The funny thing reflecting back includes whipping out my cock for a piss at the airport and discovering my little man still cum crusted from the last ass I’d bruised.

God, I love Vegas.

Finding ass this time around proved to be plentiful and easy. I had my pick of the litter every time. One man offered me $300 for my load but I turned him down in favor of fucking a hot Filipino ass, plump and round, and filling his delightful young ass up.

I think my location on the Central Strip with the Monorail made it handy. Two of my tricks used it (of which I know) and I was within walking distance of other major hotels.

Writing about the exploits will be an adventure, to say the least. And I’ve got a few things to say about this city of Sin when it comes to the sins I attempted to commit.

 

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Q&A: What’s Your Type?

Male Strippers
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Do you have a type? (race, body type, etc)

Yes and no. How about a series of preferences? I can outline some basics that get me going. But you’re going to find a lot of conflicting desires. So there’s not a single kind of type or even two types.

1. Beefy pecs. Hairy or smooth, doesn’t matter. I like pecs with some heft. Guys with good pecs get fucked on their back. And I really planting my palms over them and grab. It’s a major turn on.

2. Taller, bigger and stronger than me. There’s something about someone who’s so much more physically powerful than me but whimpering and begging for my cock. That’s a huge turn-on.

3. “Straights” who like cock in their ass. They don’t kiss. They are disgusted by what they’re doing with me. But they love it and can’t help themselves.

4. Tiny, slim men. Shorter men with a tiny waist can be hot as hell, especially as I’m the beefy, dominant man using their ass. I’m fascinated in watching my huge cock disappear into their tiny ass.

5. Asians. I probably prefer Filipino among all the flavors.

6. Naturally smooth (and sometimes not so natural). I love it when naturally smooth guys trim down what little body hair they have.

7. “Frat” good-looking guys. Now who doesn’t like these twinks? But there’s something about these incredible men who stoop to my level.

8. Silky, smooth hairy men. I prefer men whose body hair isn’t wiry but very smooth.

9. Ethnic men. While I mentioned Asians, I also find African Americans, Latinos and other flavors of the planet tasty to fuck. My mighty white cock entering their colored asses just intrigues me, especially the big-dicked ones.

Travel Diary, Day 13: Fucking Filipino

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Married with three kids. His naturally smooth chest in a dark olive only made his deep chocolate nipples stand out more. His photo hightlighted his chest and I could see why. His cock met the stereotypical measurement of maybe four inches. His dark balls also lacked hair naturally. His face with puffy lips and bulging eyes failed to be appealing at all.

But he was straight. Mostly. He took my quiet nature as shyness. He took my passive “do whatever you want” demeanor as inexperience. He accepted the ring on my left hand as proof of my wife and child and general “straightness.” He assumed I’d only done this a few times.

“You’re really big,” he said stroking my cock. He straddled me. His ass poised to sit onto my cock. “Has anyone told you that?”

“Not really,” I responded. In my mind, I’m recalling all the Asians I’ve ever fucked. It seems Asians are always impressed with my length and girth even though I consider my seven inches pretty damn average.

Is it a lie if you let someone just make a series if assumptions and don’t correct them?

“Do you have a condom?”

“No,” I answered. “I didn’t exactly come prepared for this.”

“It’s okay,” he said.

He reached over to grab the tiny lotion bottle that came with the other toiletries in the bathroom. He’d retrieved it earlier. Of course, my preference is spit. But raw fucking is raw fucking. I’m not going to be choosey.

He lathered his asshole then my cock and began to take a seat. He strained. He pulled off and added more lotion. In a moment, though, he turned into a bucking bronco. Fast and furious. The friction building. Then it began. A burning sensation. All over my cock.

I can say now from experience. Ginger-based lotion cannot be used for fast fucking.

I got him off my cock and put him flat on his stomach. I entered him slowly and deliberately before laying on top of him. With a controlled pace, I slid my cock in and out of his very tight hole. I focused on the sensation of my cock and his warmness. I knew my goal and it was just in sight. Controlling my breathing and pace, my cock began to throb. Then I unleashed it. I let my cum burst into his ass. I pushed it into his raw, married ass. Deeper.

“Are you close?” he asked.

“No,” I answered honestly.

“Okay,” he said. “Don’t cum inside.”

My mind is thinking, “Too late.” I just grunt in agreement.

He rides my cock more, amazed at its hardness. He rides with such velocity that he too experiences the burning sensation, eventually jumping off because of its intensity. He jerks off a little later and volunteers to help me pop off, unaware of my gut swimmers infiltrating the membranes of his bowels. He leaves, hoping to see me again