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The Plea of ‘Please Fuck Me’

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I turned 46 this year. Apparently, it’s one of those watershed moments in a gay man’s sexual career.

I’ve had them before. When I turned 31, it happened. Suddenly, the immature men in their youthful twenties weren’t interested in IMing me on AOL — hey folks, this is before the wide open world of the Internet. I know most of you kiddos missed that whole world where we didn’t hook up without hook-up sites, apps and Craigslist.

It occurred again at 36 when I no longer met the 19-35 threshold.

And now I’ve skipped beyond 45 and suddenly, everything ancient is new.

We’re into begging territory.

Daddies aren’t asking me to fuck him. Grandpa is. I get more pleas of “please fuck me” from men in their sixties than ever before. It’s not that I won’t fuck a man born in the 1940s. I will. But let’s get a few things out of the way.

  1. Don’t ask if you don’t mean it. Begging me to fuck you when you’re 100-plus miles away doesn’t do shit for either one of us. I’m pretty much tired of the message when there’s no fucking way you’re coming to Atlanta and I’m surely not dragging my ass to Timbuktu, South Africa. My answer now is just to ignore the dumb fuck or answer, “Okay. Come on over.”
  2. Don’t lie. Recently I did choose to fuck a child of the 1940s, but he lied, lied and lied again. He sent a bogus photograph (granted of another man in his early sixties) who had an incredible cock and a decent body. But he also said he didn’t smoke and, bingo, dumb ass, I smelled it the moment he walked in. I also enjoyed the fresher smell as he left the building.
  3. Don’t let this give you hope. If you’re old, chances are I won’t fuck you. Look, I know I’m fucking old. That’s the thing… we’re both old. But I’d much rather fuck down than fuck up. Since this is a top world, I get to pick where I plant my seed and it’s still in a tight young ass. Speaking of which, I’ve got some advice for you old farts.
  4. Gravity is not your friend. Look sweetie, if you’re going to take a picture of your saggy ass, I appreciate the honesty in advertising that you shoot that shot with you standing up. But when those ass cheeks look like they’re swinging at the back of your knees, we’ve got a problem Houston. Lie down and hire a professional photographer to re-position those cheeks into place.
  5. HemorroidsHemorrhoids do not build character. Maybe you do want to show off that cumload spilling out your ass, but three loads spilling out do not make up for the bulges around your pucker that look like you’ve had out-of-control Botox injections. Tuck that shit inside or simply don’t send me those photos.
  6. Grooming costs money, but it’s worth it. Look, at 46, I can tell you I’ve got hair growing out of places I never thought I’d have hair. I fucking hate that my stylist doubles as the waxer for my earlobes. But my cute, young thing earns an extra twenty for ripping that shit out. And that strange pubic puff at the small of my back? Well, let’s just say, no one has to see that, even though the only people seeing my back are massage therapists.

All that said, stop the madness. You want fucked by me, be honest, upfront and nearby.

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In a Week of Victories, Barebackers Slammed with Yet More Hate

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The U.S. Supreme Court issued a couple of landmark rulings — one basically letting California resume marrying same-gender couples and the other, and much more important, striking down the so-called “Defense of Marriage Act” (or DOMA) as unconstitutional.

While the DOMA ruling still allows a patchwork of states to maintain their bigotry, it did provide some remarkable language from the high court. Justice Anthony Kennedy wrote:

“DOMA’s principal effect is to identify a subset of state-sanctioned marriages and make them unequal. The principal purpose is to impose inequality, not for other reasons like governmental efficiency. Responsibilities, as well as rights, enhance the dignity and integrity of the person. And DOMA contrives to deprive some couples married under the laws of their State, but not other couples, of both rights and responsibilities.”

In other words, the law was codified bigotry.

Now on to hypocritical bigotry

A day before the ruling, the pseudo-news site for gays, Queerty, ran a piece about the Bareback Brotherhood Open-New-Window-External. The slow editors — quick to pick up on the latest steroid-pumped pecs on meth-induced porn stars — just learned about the #BBBHBlue Star movement on Twitter more than two years in thanks to an “intrepid reader.”

Posting on our “about” page became our “mission statement.” And without interviewing one of our foundersBlue Star, began making sweeping statements.

Oh God, how I love the media.

On a website that glorifies the party culture of the gay community, where one can hardly pass a page without some naked flashes of overly shaved men, the editors decide to come down hard on a social group.

The “editors” on this money-making commercial website have one article dedicated to Treasure Island Media, the world’s largest bareback studio. Oh, it’s mentioned a few more times on the website, but the article is connected to a story about a California government agency fining the studio for failing to use (gasp!) condoms on set and exposing actors to bodily fluids.

When cute, twink-boy porn site Sean Cody went bareback, Queerty went a little soft on them, writing:

“Whether or not bareback porn leads to unprotected sex among viewers has been hotly contested and is almost impossible to prove. We generally err on the side of letting grown adults make their own judgment calls….” Open-New-Window-External

Then there’s how soft Queerty is with Maverick Men, a growing bareback media empire. Media darling Chris Crocker fucked raw there Open-New-Window-External and Maverick Men wrote a book worthy of an article Open-New-Window-External.

I also did a couple of searches on bareback hook-up websites. Our Queerty editors haven’t bothered to take them on. Not at all. BarebackRT.com Open-New-Window-External is safe from the wrath. And I doubt the editors know anything about the bareback gatherings like CumUnion Open-New-Window-External or the many other bareback fuck parties around. Or maybe the short bus hasn’t made it to those stops.

Bigotry to the People

But when it comes to bareback sex, the hammer must come down on the ordinary men of the Bareback Brotherhood. We’re the ones glorifying bareback sex and personally forcing people to get infected.

Never mind our bareback sex isn’t distributed to millions and sold. We are the masses. We’re the ones without the legal resources to sue or send a cease and desist letter. We’re not an organization that may someday, if Queerty can’t figure out what to do, buy a couple of skyscraper click-through ads on the website.

The editors, who’s probably just one condom Nazi needing a good breeding or a bareback denier who gets raw fucks all the time but can’t bring himself to tell the truth, puts himself on some platform of thinking he’s better than everyone.

He’s sitting back at his desk, smoking those Marlboro Reds after that satisfying Big Mac, fries and a chocolate shake of God-knows-what (but it wasn’t ice cream, milk or chocolate) and thinks he knows better for everyone what’s healthy for our lives.

And meanwhile, the money talks and every commercial enterprise gets a pass.

Blue Star Blue Star Blue Star Blue Star Blue Star

Mark Bentson, aka iBLASTinside, is a cofounder of the Bareback Brotherhood.

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Hate (2 of 3)

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This post comes with a heavy heart because I write it about someone I considered a friend. In a way, we were loosely business partners, as I supported his products on my website. Business changed in the last couple of years and, growing vocal protests over me, forced my friend into an untenable position.

Or so it’s conveyed to me.

Look, I know there’s a bunch of flakes online and I’m all about exposing catfish Open-New-Window-External. And people lie. You can’t tell liars via e-mail or Twitter. But I have no reason to believe Jeff is telling a fib, as this issue has developed. I sort of feel sorry for the guy.

I’m also sorry Jeff couldn’t find the strength to stand up.

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Those of you online, especially on Twitter, will recognize Jeff as Str8Cam. He’s a hot, muscular straight guy who jacks off online to what was once thousands of horny admirers.

Those numbers have dwindled since the rise of Xtube.com, Tumblr.com and other free sources of porn. Jeff needed another source of income and since his gay-for-pay philosophy extended only so far as jerking off, he landed on a potential gold mine in the form of a lubricant that looked like, felt like and smelled like cum.

Jeff began marketing it at Str8Cam Lube.

Now Jeff isn’t the first to come up with such a thing. Bad-Dragon.com Open-New-Window-External, which offers unusually shaped dildos, also offers its own CumLube (even before Jeff). I’d ordered from them. But Jeff — being directly supportive of a the gay community despite his own disappointing heterosexuality — caused me to switch it up.

Being that I’m a barebacker (and many of my readers are fans of the raw sex and like some spunk), Jeff created a fan base for his product, which he started a second line called SpunkLube to attract a straighter audience.

In the course of my writings, I explain how Jeff’s product might be used as a tool in deceptive practices. By the way, I’ve also discussed the use of many other brand name products including Durex Rainbow Colored CondomsDurex Rainbow Condoms, Vaseline, etc., in similar methods.

Jeff didn’t know I included him. Neither did Bad Dragon nor Durex.

When Jeff started getting harassed, it was brought to his attention. He e-mailed me and I added a statement to the “offending” page Opens new window of a page on this blog.

Threats continued against Jeff and his products. Even though his products are condom safe (and plenty of lube makers create condom-unfriendly lubricants), Jeff is being punished for something I’ve written.

Jeff has asked me to take my posts down. He’s asked me to remove reference to his products. I won’t.

What I am doing is explaining to you all, dear readers, how someone has been unfairly maligned for something that they have no right to be.

Jeff-Str8CamJeff is a public figure and he gets naked and jerks off on camera practically daily. And while I may be suggesting his product be misused, it’s no different than someone not following the recipe on the back of a Duncan Hines cake box or playing Monopoly with my own set of rules.

Why people have chosen to single-out Jeff, I have no idea. It makes me wonder if there’s some retribution because Jeff, in his non-judgmental approach to all gays — even barebackers. He chats with us all on Twitter.

While I don’t make a dime from this, allow me to suggest you all still support Jeff. But please, do not purchase Str8Cam Lube Open-New-Window-External or SpunkLube Open-New-Window-External from a store. Purchase it directly from Jeff’s websites. And if you’re really feeling generous, join his jerk-off website at Str8Cam.com Open-New-Window-External.

If it upsets you a little too much, consider purchasing Bad Dragon’s CumLube Open-New-Window-External instead. It’s practically the same thing.

And if you’re one of the bullies fucking around with this muscleman’s wallet, fucking stop it.

Postscript

Show Jeff some love. Follow him on Twitter and tell him you support him, his products and his right to sell to whomever he pleases. And if you’re a barebacker, let him know that too. His Twitter name is @Str8Cam Follow on Twitter.

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Ignore the Fake & Listen to the ‘Real’ Interview with Co-Founder of the Bareback Brotherhood

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A webcast and podcast is out claiming to be hosting an interview with the “founder” of the Bareback Brotherhood, a confederation of more than 8,000 men worldwide who believe bareback sex is a legitimate option for them.

Unfortunately, it’s actually a parody. Using a poorly impersonated voice of Smeagol from the “Lord of the Rings” movie trilogy and “The Hobbit,” the hosts of the show imply a variety of erroneous statements both about myself, the Bareback Brotherhood, barebacking in general and the practice of stealthing.

This sensationalistic effort to get their little piddly podcast off to a start might work, especially since they’ve inundated Twitter with the #BBBH hashtag and seem to be legitimately interviewing me or my fellow co-founders, @GaPozAthens Follow on Twitter and @Ch4sUK Follow on Twitter.

Had these assholes bothered to e-mail me (since they based a chunk of their so-called comedy routine on my Top 10 Stealthing Tips Opens new window of a page on this blog), I might have actually spoken to them. I have done interviews before with podcasts, namely Distorted View Daily Open-New-Window-External, which you can still listen to my controversial conversation.

But they were afraid of having a real conversation where I might ask them the hard-edged questions I ask of every condom Nazi who seems to disapprove — especially the one former “HIV educator.”

Oh, the tales I could tell you of fucking men who work in HIV education. If I were to go on BarebackRT.com Open-New-Window-External and simply highlight all the HIV educators, my friends at BBRT would lose so much money from loss of membership.

Ignore the current claims of an interview of a “founder of the BBBH.” There’s only Co-Founders. And the only one with an interview right now can be found with Distorted View Daily Open-New-Window-External.

 

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Condom Versus Bareback Sex

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I’ve received a couple of e-mails just today from men confronting a crossroads on which path to take. I’m going to share what each had to write.

Being gay is one thing. You are already different and somewhat an outcast for that.

Then if you are into older guys and not guys your own age it’s another thing and another form of alienation.

Oh and then there is leather if you are into kinks and being subservient and being someone’s slave or boy and wearing a collar people thing you are strange.

And add barebacking to the mix and you are basically a fucking alien.

I’d say the only thing you could do more then that is becoming poz then good luck ever finding acceptance.

This young man in his twenties experienced first hand the hatred coming from the gay community for being a barebacker. Unfortunately, someone discovered his enjoyment at raw cock and, poof, all his acceptance in his circle of friends dissipated so quickly, he felt abandoned and forced into burying his urge to go raw. Now, with animosity and a regret, he wrote me thinking I would reject him too because he no longer barebacked.

Peer pressure. What an odd thing.

The other man, in his mid-thirties, wrote to express his newness to fucking raw.

It took me a long time to get to the point of taking raw cock on purpose.  Haven’t moved to all-bare all the time yet.

I still remember the first loads I took.  Was really nervous about it.  But now, I crave my buddies’ loads.  Sometimes I really want to be a cum dump and take all loads.  Haven’t got to that point though.

My Own Journey

In the late 1980s and early 1990s as the AIDS epidemic brought more and more death upon the gay community, I happened to be a fledgling twentysomething myself in South Florida. I lived far away from the big cities and worked way too hard to get to date men, as at the time I thought a Prince Charming still existed on my horizon would come and take me to new heights of love and sex.

You can read of my own sexual exposures by my molester in the Dark Passenger Opens a new window from this blog entries, which at the time, I’d confronted but didn’t face head on as this blog allowed in the years since. Yet as a young journalist at a small newspaper in the heat of the Florida sun, I got to see the worst that can happen to humanity:

  • A 13-year-old middle school student stabbed, snipped and raped (after death)
  • A 19-year-old motorcyclist with his brain scattered a few hundred feet — now I know why they call it “gray matter”
  • Countless shootings and stabbings of people, often for no reason or for some drug deal gone bad
  • Lightning strikes of golfers, kids playing outside or just random people
  • Skinheads and KKK recruiting in the local high schools
  • Vagrants and drunks falling asleep on train tracks to have the locomotive run them over and sever off some body part
  • Whole families driving off roads into ditches and drowning, never exiting the minivan
  • Beach drownings and backyard pool drownings of old and young, accidental or otherwise
  • Wrecks where the jaws of life pried open bloody mangled messes of metal and human fused together
  • Coaches molesting his female players on his championship team
  • And an honors student and latchkey kid, sniffing a spray can protectant, getting high, barfing and dying his backyard

These were not odd occurrences. This happened daily. Sometimes twice or three times. Over the weekend. For more than two years, I watched this carnage and human destruction up close and personal. No college professor prepared me for real blood and body parts and coroners and victim tears and invading people’s privacy to get a few precious words for a quote.

In the midst of all this, I began my own medical issues. My doctor, at the time, asked me if I’d ever been tested for the virus that causes AIDS. I’d developed some odd rash and he had no idea why.

No cocktails existed. As I recall, AZT was even experimental. People I knew who had AIDS would suddenly disappear only to have their obituary appear later due to suicide or some other “illness.” And if my life, just starting out, began with a doctor suggesting that a fucking rash might be HIV.

The test in those days took more than a week to get the results. I worried the whole time. And the whole time I worried, I watched countless people drop dead around me from murder, accident, mayhem and more.

But I didn’t have HIV. I was fine. I would live!

Life seemed brighter. The world seemed better. I didn’t need to worry. Everything would be a-okay. I just needed to be careful. Right? No unsafe sex.

Fuck. I barely had sex anyway. The death and destruction at work kept making sure of that.

I would try to use a condom if sex ever popped up or just let a guy suck me off. And I tried to date. But something just seemed unsettling to me.

Fast-forward

I’d sampled raw sex from the beginning — my first fuck ever Opens a new window from this blog — and a few momentous subsequent fucks Opens a new window from this blog. As I turned over my new leaf following the savior of coming out negative, I found myself slipping up from time to time. Often, it would be someone I really liked (or lusted after).

scruff-go-rawBarebacking happens. Any gay man who hooks up will likely bareback. A recent example to the right. I’ll tell someone I only fuck raw and they’ll change their tune quick.

Recent studies found that about half of all gay men will admit to having bareback sex. But that’s the admission. I believe that number is much higher. The study I’m citing was from a judgmental safer sex education effort and didn’t go at the study neutrally. Someone asked like I did — as you see in this pic or in a way that makes people feel “safe” to answer they’re okay with barebacking — you’ll find more people will admit to going raw.

While the fuck listed here didn’t hesitate, sometimes the bottom will wait a while and come back later with an “all right, I’ll let you fuck me” or “if you promise you’re DDF, you can fuck me.” Sometimes, if I follow through with the fuck, I’ll be asked to pull out.

I pull out…. after I blast inside.

Everyone knows my name, my e-mail address and usually this blog. Why they sometimes miss that fact, I don’t quite get it.

In my experience, those who eventually admit and will allow me to bareback — based on my photos — and knowing my information is about seven out of 10. I believe if I had a photo of an athletic body, younger age and a slightly larger cock, I’d get closer to nine out of 10.

And if I were to bottom, it would be close to 99 percent with those looks.

pornI wrote recently Opens a new window from this blog about a porn star who visited Atlanta during 2012. This performer, who is rather famous and qualifies as a true porn star, would have cost me a big chunk of change. He stars in condom-only porn. He refused to get fucked raw but would gladly fuck raw and, even knowing me and my blog, would breed my ass.

The schedules never meshed and I’m not messing up his career or the opportunity for him to breed me should he return to the ATL.

I believe that some people think it’s more acceptable to be a bareback top.

The more young, the more athletic, the more “healthy” looking, the more likely a raw fuck will happen.

Back to My Story

As I matured and had my experiences with dating and hookups, I had sex both with and without condoms. It’s not like I didn’t know the difference. It’s not like I ignored the choice before me. And every six months or so, I’d endure the long wait to determine if I happened to be HIV positive, worrying about what would happen, what other discrimination might confront me along with the homophobic hatred that already confronted my life.

Medical changes were happening and treatments were improving. People living with HIV didn’t die immediately. I had boyfriends, then partners. And my life progressed. When I would try to use a condom, it wouldn’t always be the most successful experience.

The difference between bareback and condom sex is like standard- and high-definition television. Once you’ve watched high-def, you really can’t stand to go back to the low-definition again. It’s fuzzy. You don’t get as much out of the experience. The sensations aren’t all there. You’re missing a big chunk of the fun. The experience is extremely lacking.

You crave the high-definition. You want to full-on overload that you get from the sensory inputs of going raw.

Anyone who pretends it’s “just as hot” or whatever else is lying.

My two writers know this. And this is the conflict they’re struggling with right now.

To the Twentysomething

You are a barebacker and you know the risks that come with it. You might pretend for the sake of your so-called friends that you want to wrap it up. However, what kind of friends are they really?

Maintaining a little separation of your sex life and your professional life makes a great deal of sense. But your gay friends cannot all say they hate you because you bareback. If they do, they’re not truly your friends (and it’s time to find some new ones). Barebacking is a choice.

I will say if you choose to use a condom, it’s fine with me. If I know someone makes a logical choice based on the facts in front of them, then I can only respect their choices.

Further, allow me to say Atlanta isn’t the best choice for the Leather Community. It is a small community and the choices are limiting, unlike larger cities where Leather has a larger presence — Chicago for one. I’d suggest you broaden your circle of friends and you’ll find several barebacking members in within BDSM circles.

And should you ever become poz, I promise you won’t be alienated either. There’s a special bond between poz men (I’m sure some of them will speak out).

To the Thirtysomething

You too are coming into your own, now that you’ve seen the greener grasses of barebacking. Even with your limited experience, you know that the sensory experience of going raw just can’t compare with wrapping plastic around a cock and sliding it into a hole. That separation blurs the enjoyment.

Can you truly make that choice?

Why I Made the Choice

As I wrote earlier, I was unprepared for the death, destruction and hatred I would see on a day-to-day experience. Compound that with my molestation, and you come to a place where I struggled to find intimacy and connections with men that simply didn’t not transfer through the plastic barriers of a condom.

Why would I choose to live a life hidden from those sensations I craved and deny myself the thing I wanted? Why especially when I knew it all could be snatched away in a moment due to lightning, an accident, a gunshot, a stabbing or some other act of fate that would take thousands every year but somehow spare me?

One of the oddest occurrences that still baffles me is the person who writes me and wants me to fuck him — but insists I use a condom. Oh, he’s  read my blog. He knows I only fuck raw. He’s aware that “I blast inside.” But he considers himself cute enough, muscular enough, hung enough, young enough, funny enough or some other talent enough that he will be the exception to my rule to fuck raw. He is special enough that he will escape my raw breeding. I won’t stealth him either. I’ll be honorable and fuck safely.

No chance in hell.

And if you think a car accident, a home invasion, a stray bullet, a blood clot, a drowning or some other death or destruction element will miss you — that you’re special enough that God will spare you — then I spent two years in South Florida meeting the people who thought the same thing.

Life is meant to be lives in high definition. That’s where I live it.

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