Travel Diary: Anonymous Bottom in the Dark
We “met” on BarebactRT and got down to business quickly, just the kind of fuck sometimes I really like.
His 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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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.
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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On My Way to Vegas…
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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Where’s the Gay Sinning in Sin City?
As I get closer to the date for travel to Las Vegas, I’ve been researching and asking locals about where I’ll get my fix for fucking around. My answers are disturbing. For this little outpost in the desert that promises excess and hedonism, the opportunity for homosexual offenses seems few and far between.
I am told by the resources I’ve pumped for information the following:
- Two “bathhouses” exist, only one of which is decent (and the two are practically neighbors).
- No adult bookstores in the area offer any normal “gay” action in booths or gloryholes.
- No gay strip clubs or even go-go boys are available in town.
- All of the nightclubs are pretty much upstanding, nice places.
- Nothing too cruisy or too seedy in town when it comes to businesses to visit.
- While ass is available, your likely source will be other tourists on the strip.
Alas, this concerns me a little but doesn’t surprise me. I’m not one to get political (fuck politics) but the overall environs in America has us returning everyone into the closet and hiding all the good fun.
I’m become more and more pessimistic in the bottom population of Sin City and my hope for a bottom partner-in-crime during my time in town as I search for a bottom cum dump. I have one who claims to hope to join me and a couple others who’ve expressed interest.
I have a feeling I’ll just be fucking whatever walks through my door late at night. Oh well. So much for Sin City. Hello Fuckville.
P.S. Any locals have any other information about where to find some fun, hit me up.
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Travel Diary: I’m Off to Vegas, Baby! (Soon)
What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas… right?
What’s going to happen in Vegas? I’m going to breed ass.
What’s going to stay in Vegas? My DNA.
FYI, I’m still interviewing for a CUM DUMP BOTTOM COMPANION while I’m there. Any one interested? I’m also on BarebackRT.com.
Any of the men in Vegas want to give me a tour of all that’s sleazy in Sin City? At least when it comes to gays and bareback? I’d really love to see it! I’ll be arriving in less than a week. Please let me know by hitting up my e-mail at iblastinside@gmail.com.
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