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

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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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Ultimate Fantasy, All About Fiction

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The other day, someone asked me about my ultimate fantasy and as the words spilled out of my fingertips, I began spinning the tale that, to be honest, is one of four or five complex plots inside my head.

This blog, however, is not about fiction. It’s about my life and exploring my sexual nature. If I begin weaving in fictional writing with my own internal studies and regular reports, I worry some people might confuse fact from fiction, my thoughts from my fantasies.

A time in my life, I explored becoming an erotic writer. I actually submitted stories to several publications that were, at the time, viable because this whole web thing really didn’t exist — at least to common mortals like myself.

I received several rejection letters. But one editor actually wrote me back rather than a common rejection. I’ll paraphrase him, because I recall it too clearly.

“Your story is good. Your writing is strong. It’s just there’s too much plot and it takes way too many words before you get to the sex.”

At the time, I had a philosophical difference with erotica writers. Plot mattered to me. How many pizza delivery guys, coaches, handymen, etc., stories can be written or filmed until they’re all out of juice and it’s just an excuse to fuck. How many sports teams do you think actually have fuck sessions in the locker room? (Okay, with the exception of gay rugby and softball leagues.)

My fuck fiction will have plots. I want men hard and leaking before the fucking ever starts. I want the tension and anticipation of the fuck before it happens. I want his dick hard and several beads of precum already soaking his pubes before his first stroke when one of my fictional dicks get into a fictional hole.

So, if you want more fiction, you’ll have to find it on another blog. I do not want the two intermingling.

Please go to http://ibifuckfiction.blogspot.com. I’ll be watching the readership there too to see if we get enough followers to keep a second blog alive.

Thanks!