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Travel Diary: Introducing My Las Vegas ‘Catfish’

las-vegas

It is without a doubt among my biggest thrills to meet (and occasionally seed) those who read my blog. I get “fan” mail often. A lot of people ask inane questions. Others engage me in conversation. With the exception of those who I get to fuck (and with their permission), I’ll write my experiences on these virtual pages.

Then there’s those who lie.

If you’ve ever seen the documentary movie, “Catfish,” you begin to unravel the kind of delusions some people develop. They build a life of a lie and they double-down on it. They exist within this lie and develop it so much further. It’s a cocoon of lies around them so deep, so interwoven and so swollen with guilt, sex and altered reality, you can’t quite find your way to the truth.

This has happened to me before.

It was a sixty-something woman pretending to be a young gay man — quite convincingly. She was a manager at a major retailer and would take photos of her young, hot, male employees — sometimes not even 18 years old — to lure  in unsuspecting multiple men. As most people tend to do, she neglected to pay attention to the background of images and her store information including awards were plainly visible in these pics she sent.

Eventually, a group of men made sure she stopped and the major retailer was none-too-pleased by the publicity it received.

I would have let it go myself had it not been for the fact one photo I knew was a 17-year-old employee who turned out to be quite straight. But that, my friends, doesn’t get to our Las Vegas Liar.

An Introduction to ‘Mike’

I am generally not a vengeful person. And I expect a certain degree of, shall we say, stretching the truth. Your first name is likely different and you’re probably a little older, a little heavier and the photo you originally sent is a few years in the past when you were on that great diet or taken from an angle that just looked especially good.

But overall, it’s you.

A young man who had been chatting with me for a while lived in Vegas. I’ll speak honestly. We did share some affinity for certain sexual proclivities that I rather enjoy. As with any of my early correspondence, I’d asked for a photo exchange, in which he reluctantly obliged. That always makes me a bit suspicious, so here we already had a problem because he always seemed to be at work and unable to send me photos of himself — even G-rated ones. Yet our conversations would venture into clearly XXX-rated territory.

On occasion, I neglect to tell the poor idiots who use “work phones” and “work computers” without photos that their explicit messaging is just as much a problem for them if the workplace monitors IP traffic. If their nasty text messages or IMs are making it through, so can some photos.

Eventually, photos arrived, in which he claimed to be Person #1 in the images shown here, composed of three photos: Two nude and one just shirtless but showing his face originally.

As the conversation deepened, he then mentioned his boyfriend, who he eventually introduced as Person #2 and pointed to an Adam4Adam.com profile, “VegasNewHotBoi.” He also mentioned that his boyfriend wanted to join in the bareback fun.

I realized the photos were a little off (but not as off as I’ll explain in a moment) but I let it go and we chatted more.

Fast Forward Several Months

Several months later, I got word that I needed to travel to Las Vegas for a week. I saw it as an opportunity to see Mike and use his ass. We began to explore what might become an interesting adventure between the two of us. He would line up men for me to fuck, along with volunteering to get fucked. As he was versatile, we would tag team and it would be quite a round of fucking.

In the course of the conversation, we ended up trading photos again, largely because he wanted to see me. I asked for more of him.

This is where it gets interesting.

When he sent photos of himself to me, this time he sent me photos of Person #2.

As we chatted, his stats changed from his original 5-foot-8, dirty blond at 24 years old to a 30-year-old, 6-foot tall guy.

Fresh, new photos were not to be had. He used a “work phone.” Even as he texted me his exploits of giving blowjobs and getting fucked raw in Excalibur Resort bathrooms (according to him, they’re quite cruisy), he couldn’t seem to point the iPhone at the mirror to snap even a G-rated photo. Again, this excuse of it’s a “work phone.” Yet he could send texts all about the huge cock that just shot a cumload into his raw ass.

Suspicions mounted.

In all this time, this “boyfriend” of months past no longer was mentioned. In fact, it seemed as if he had no such man in his life as he existed to get cum. Every night, he basically told me of his search for cum and how he got it. I played along, also discussing how we might meet up.

Arrival in Sin City

I didn’t find it odd that “Mike” went silent the few days before my arrival. Despite being online (something he would later attribute to his computer going to “sleep,” but something I know also forces his G-Talk status to “not available” or even “off line,” neither of which occurred), Mike never responded to IMs or e-mails until I sent the first one from my hotel room.

“I’m here,” was all it said.

“In Vegas?” he responded. “Where?”

“In my room,” I answered.

“Okay,” he messaged back. “When do you leave?”

Now I found this an odd question. I just got here and he’s asking when I’m leaving? Beside the fact I’d been talking about being in town a whole week and using bottoms for that period of time (he was a blog reader, after all), I usually see the “when do you leave” question from people who postpone sex until it’s too late to have it. In other words, they never had the intention to fuck.

I remained silent to this little turn of events.

“I  got suck flu,” he wrote, finally breaking the silence. “Two days ago. It seems to be going away. Feeling better. I haven’t had the flu like this in years.”

I’d remained stoically silent until finally typing, “Uh huh.”

“Can we meet tomorrow?” he now asked. “Anytime! Off work until Tuesday.”

I’m guessing that the flu was indeed improving. Further, he knew that tomorrow, that Monday, I had a little event planned. I’d advertised on BarebackRT.com for gathering to occur. He’d asked if he could attend via the site and I’d confirmed him.

In the last few hours prior to the party, he disappeared off line. IMs on G-Talk and messages on G-Mail and BBRT went unanswered.

He would be “bummed” at missing the party (which turned out to be great fun with some hot, hot, hot guys). I began asking about responses I’d expected from him and he’d deny ever receiving such messages. Even when I sent screenshots from BBRT showing the messages, he’d send others back showing such messages didn’t exist. As if someone wiped them away completely.

As I tried to nail down a time and place to meet, it became apparent it would not actually occur. Whoever this person happened to be, he would not let me pin him into the snare he’d created for himself. So allow me to share with all of you in Vegas what you’re up against.

Confronting a Catfish

I began by pointing out the confusion of who he really was. His response proved to be denial. He and his boyfriend (who re-emerged in a convenient heartbeat) often pretended to be one another. It just wasn’t a big deal. They did it all the time. Since at the initial time they were both planning on having sex with me, he didn’t think it was all that big of a deal to play a switcharoo.

In his words, “I may have misled you a little. I really didn’t lie. You were going to be able to fuck me. You were going to be able to fuck the guys in the photos. The only question was who really was me.”

Well, that my friends leads us to a more interesting question as to who these photos might be because I do not believe the folks in the face photos match the images that are naked.

CSI: Photo Flesh XXX

Consider the three photos presented as Person #1. Images #1A and #1B were clearly taken of the same person and in sequence. However, we begin to plot the inconsistencies:

  1. The camera device varies between 1A/1B and 1C
  2. Room and background setting varies significantly between 1A/1B and 1C
  3. Clothing represented is significantly different between 1A/1B and 1C.
  4. The man in 1A/1B is much more thin and less muscularly defined that the man in 1C.
  5. The man in 1A/1B is much more tan carries a significantly different skin-tone than the man in 1C.
  6. The man in 1A/1B has much more chest hair naturally occurring than the man in 1C.
  7. As outlined in the blow-up images below image #1A, the nipple shapes vary significantly.
  8. As outlines in the blow-up images below image #1B, the person in 1A/1B has a shoulder tattoo on his left tattoooo. The person in 1C clearly does not.
For all these reasons, I believe that there are two people depicted here. One in photos #1A and #1B; another person in photo #1C.

We have a similar situation in Person #2.

The two color photos provided — image #2A and #2B — clearly show a largely smooth guy, tall and thin, with a delightful bush restricted to just above his cock. While the man in image #2C, presents with rather hairy legs and a bush that extends to the inner thighs.

Clearly, again, we have two people. One in photos #2A and #2B; another person is in photo #2C.

Why Bother?

I bother because I care. Ha. Not really.

I honestly don’t give a shit if the fucker who’s been communicating with me was some old fart sitting at home stroking his cock for the umpteenth time in this little fantasy world. What bothers me is, when confronted with the truth, this delusional bastard tried to stick to the lie. I got excuse after excuse for hair, for inconsistencies and for obvious problems. Seriously, you’re just going to shave the sides of your bush but not the bush itself? 

Whoever is in these photos might be innocent (that’s why the faces are blurred) but someone is guilty. So gentlemen, keep an eye out for the following people:

  • OutInVegas on BarebackRT
  • LVSuckNSwallow@Gmail.com and LVSuckNSwallow on G-Talk
  • OutinVegas@Gmail.com and OutinVegas on G-Talk
  • VegasNewHotBoi@Yahoo.com or VegasNewHotBoi on Yahoo! Messenger
  • VegasNewHotBoi on Adam4Adam

Of course, these are just the ones I know about.

You make your own judgment. I’ve made mine.

 

P.S. If you run across who’s really in these photos, please let me know. I know there’s an asshole on Manhunt in Boston using my photo.

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Travel Diary: Fan Fucking in the Northeast, Part 1… The Boston Buddha

boston-postcard

Boston happened last but I’m giving it to you first.

I do try to let folks know when and where I’m going, especially through here and my profile on BarebackRT.com, as I did when I notified everyone of a Northeast tour including a stop in Boston.

As per usual, I get a lot of interest — some from the usual crowd of people who have no idea about this blog and others who do. Two men served to provide me with bountiful interest upon my travel to the city with one promising a great deal. And, as usual, I found the dates postponed.

A small rant: Why it it after all the bullshit is out of the way and you’re about to hook does the guy ask, “So how long are you in town?” When you answer, your first night in town is never good for them and, well, they inevitably put it off until just before you’re off to the airport. Fuck that.

Anyway, the older muscle guy bailed and the younger twink never seriously committed so I kept cruising for a real bottom.

I lucked out on BarebackRT.com with an Asian.

Now anyone who’s read me knows of my affinity for Asians — fuck, I’m an equal opportunity fucker. But he was a little older, a little rounder but very willing. I was getting pretty pissed off at Beantown as most of the men there just didn’t really seem willing or acted really sketchy. Not at all what I expected when he showed up, a very cute man showed up at my door. Short and, as much as it’s very stereotypical of me, quite Buddha-ish. We got down to business.

He sucked well enough but it proved to be his skill of sitting on my cock. His stubby legs would lower himself on my cock and ride it for all it’s worth.

I put him on his back — his favorite position — with his feet on my chest. I could watch my hard white cock slide in and out of his smooth hole. With leverage from his feet and his compact body, it was easy to fuck and bring myself closer to the edge. I snorted some poppers and asked him if he wanted my load.

He begged for it.

And as always, it pushed me over the edge.

I pushed my cock inside him deep and unloaded, staring at his deep brown eyes.

After a moment, I rolled off.

In the after fuck glow as I regained my breath, he admitted he really liked my blog. I’d thought, up to that moment, it was just another hook up. But the little fucker knew my affinity for Asians and had stalked me online hoping to get my load.

He’d succeeded.

For all the muscle men and twinks, for all the cum-hungry bottoms and bareback virgins who fantasize for their first, for all the flakes and flirts, it was my Boston Buddha who got my load. And man did he deserve it.

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A Dozen Resolutions for 2012 & A Dozen Reasons Why 2012 Will Be Better Than 2011

2012

12. Porn Star Fuck…

Surely 2012 is finally my year to get some porn star ass, don’t you think? Hint hint porn stars. You know who you are. And I know you read me. So offer it up to me.

11. Meet My Meat

Looks like I’ll be doing my share of traveling in 2012, not just to Northern California. While I’m around, I want so make sure some of the people out there who read me (and who I read or follow) meet my meat. No particular number. Just a goal to make sure that I spread my DNA wide and far.

10. More Asian Invasions

I love Asians. Well, let me be specific. I love fucking Asians. I want to fuck more Asians. My goal is to make that happen. More. A lot more.

Here’s the thing… if I’m lucky, I could get resolution 12, 11 and 10 in one shot. But I doubt it. I only know one half-Asian porn star. But I’d fuck and breed him twice to make it count.

9. Shape It Up

I’ve been doing good but I need to get started back at the gym. I will. More work to do. More muscles to gain.

8. Something Kinky

I need to shock myself. If anyone can come up with something that will shock me (and in the process, turn me the fuck on), hit me up.

7. Tattoo Time

I know, I promised myself last year. But the tattoo I want requires a good artist. Okay, not just a good artist. A great one. And someone with that talent isn’t just someone you find at the corner shot. You have to find the right one. I hope I find him or her this year.

6. Curb the Curmudgeon

Perhaps a reader has a point. I know there’s exceptions to every rule. Fuck, I know straight men take cock. I need to start believing more men. So maybe they will drive to meet me.

Interestingly enough, I like to consider this part of myself a pragmatist and not a curmudgeon or pessimist. I’ve been told I was a pessimist, most recently by an 18-year-old who really, really was just curious to know my age. This Grindr cutie claimed he would still very much be interested in me, no matter my age. Of course, the oldest man he’d ever dated was two years my youth — and a doctor.

We’ll see if he follows through in the new year. Okay, so in curbing… I HOPE he follows through…

5. Roll on them Rollercoasters

I have a passion for rollercoasters but the past few years has kept me away from amusement parks. Not this year. I’m hitting them and going for a ride.

4. Occupy the Obvious

The Occupy moment had its moment and, at times, my support. Not always. As the movement said they were the 99 percent, I suggested that I was the 9 percent — the 9 percent unemployed who simply couldn’t find a job.

That story goes further. I could find the most basic work. Even Target or other hourly positions turned me down. I just wanted a chance. I finally got that chance and got a job. I got two job offers.

However, one job offer came with stipulations. It came with a three-month trial to determine whether or not I was “compatible with the culture” in the company.

With both companies, I’d been forth coming about my sexuality — not in an obvious way, but inquiring about support of same-gender partner benefits. One answered my questions professionally and neutrally. The other — well — needed time to figure it out. Then questioned whether I would “fit with the corporate culture.”

This was later in the process, so as not to look homophobic. But it didn’t fool me.

Fuck fit.

I didn’t occupy the job, especially when I left them know that I recognized their homophobia, no matter the subtly. I called them out on it.

They backpedaled and tried to get me to take the job, but emotionally, I just knew I couldn’t commit myself there. Which leads me to my next resolution.

rage3. Punch Back

Look, as much as we like to suggest, IT DOES NOT GET BETTER. We just learn to deal with the crap better. And after the last couple of years, with “FAG” carved into the side of my car, my shit stolen, bullied at work and eventually fired by a homophobic boss and the hatred I confront from the Gay community, I’m done being Mr. Passive.

I’m punching first, asking for clarification later.

2. Mentoring a Man-Boy

I have hoped for a while to find someone worthy of learning what I know. Occasionally I find someone who has promise and I begin speaking with him. But as with most of these young’uns, they fall off the planet when it means a little work. This includes the Seattle bottom who’s cheating on his boyfriend and learning to be a cum-loving slut, the Midwest Asian frat boy who thinks he’s not all that hot but he breaks all the molds with a big cock and the big-dicked black Florida Military boy who keeps skipping around on me like a fairy.

If you’re worthy and will truly dedicated yourself without being a flake, hit me up: iblastinside@gmail.com. And include a fucking photo.

1. Connect

Vague as it sounds, I know what it means. I have been sans a best bud, a wing man, a co-conspirator for a little more than a year now. I have good friends but when friendship is tested, few pass the test. I wouldn’t mind it if someone just starts out and we don’t test anything other than whether we can get a good drink on together and travel some.

I’ve even had buds who have been straight and with whom I’ve never fucked. Used to go with one to pro hockey games, getting drunk before and after. He’d check the girls, I’d check the guys and we’d fucking scream our heads off at the checks on the ice.

Miss that.

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2011: Bareback Brotherhood & Other Raw Revolutions

365

How to quantify 2011? For me personally, I find it a reprehensible year, kicked off by being fired for being gay and spending almost the entire year looking for work. But when it comes to barebacking, this community I so love (and fuck), we made tremendous strides.

#1, more than anything else, we are visible.

Not that we were not visible before 2011. But our visibility prior to 2011 happened to be via porn and hook-up sites. And, quite frankly, that might be our goals. However, it’s beginning to blossom well beyond that. Evidence?

  • Of course we can point at the Bareback Brotherhood or #BBBH. I’m a proud co-founder along with my good friends @GaPozAthens and @CH4SUK, all started on Twitter. It formed February and, now with more than 2,500 members at http://bbbh.me and on Twitter using the hashtage #BBBH, the Brotherhood shows that bareback isn’t just about the hookup but also about making this choice legitimate.
  • Along with other bareback advocates, I’ve been included in European academic works discussing the Bareback movement and how its momentum is gaining legitimacy. American academics may still be afraid of the right-wing backlash, but it’s increasingly apparent that Barebacking isn’t just about the fuck but also about the choice.
  • Of course, mainstream news outlets still negatively cover Barebacking, but an uncensored look made a podcast during the year.

We had our share of setbacks, mainly with the porn industry still producing a chasm between the two realms of bareback and condom, exemplified by the switch of hottie barebacker Chris Gabriel to condom-user Mark Dylan. Why we can’t peacefully coexist still baffles me.

So pro-Bareback is growing. And I am glad.

That doesn’t mean the hate is over. It continues. But we’re moving in the right direction. Years from now, the Bareback Rights movement has a beginning (not the only beginning). 2011.

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Travel Diary, Day #4: The Party that Wasn’t

Capture

I thought to improve my chances at a bareback lay required something a bit more creative. A party, surely, would attract a few more men and make it worth their while to drive two miles off Interstate 880. Right?

Fuck no.

I posted it and got about seven responses, but two were abortions too far away to really count (or just not in my field of dreams). The remaining five made the grade and I accepted them. I’d hoped for more tops but, alas, that didn’t seem to be the case.

I sent an e-mail with instructions and my location and followed up with a request to confirm. Shortly after that message, I started to get responses:

sorry. you are pretty far from me...about 30 minutes...so I
am going to pass...thought you were closer...have fun

Okay, so BBRT does indeed show his city and mine and approximate distance. Had he checked, he’d seen a bridge needed to be crossed and a 30-minute drive.

Next one:

new to the area and don't have idea where you are. sorry bud.

Guess what, dumb ass? When I told you the hotel, there’s this really amazing thing called the fucking Internet. USE IT.

sorry, but bbrt normally emails me when i have a message and
it didn't tonight. hope you have fun. sorry i couldnt make
it.

Well, I invited you to a party at 9 p.m. and accepted you. What the fuck do you think would happen? The one night BBRT doesn’t work right. HMMMM… suspicious.

And finally, the guy who begged me all week to fuck him but wouldn’t come over unless I found another top to fuck him:

I'm not gonna attend.  Someone I blocked is going.....have a
great time man

Well fuck.

Everyone else, just a no show.

I’m back in January. Maybe I’ll have better luck.

 

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