Category Archives: secret

Virtual Words and a Vibration

Virtual Words and a Vibration

Nothing more than the feel of vibration. The notion of an arrival of a text message. Your stomach gets a little knot. Could it be? Is it from?

No. Just a friend checking in.

Returning your iPhone to your pocket, it vibrates once. It’s just an e-mail. You relax. But then you think, it could be an e-mail from him. Naw. He’d text me. Not e-mail.

Still, it bugs the back of your mind until you check it later.

Finally, on a bathroom break, you send the obligatory, “How’s your day going?” message.

Not much communication during the day. Sporadic bursts of intense messages with long delays in between. Then that night-time, battery-draining flurry.

The night-time. That’s what you live for. That’s what you wait for. That’s what you wish for. That’s what you hope won’t stop.

For the day the vibration stops is the day you’re afraid he’s moved on to something more real. Something that’s not virtual. Something that won’t fit into a pocket. Something not cold, metal and plastic and glass.

Something flesh, warm and pliable.

And even then you’re afraid he’ll return to the promise of the other choices that are virtual and vibrational. The things not connected to you.

Travel Diary: Trio of Cum Dumps in San Fran, But Barely Remarkable

Travel Diary: Trio of Cum Dumps in San Fran, But Barely Remarkable

As I continue my visits in the San Francisco Bay Area, I’ve been attempting to get closer to the Castro as much as possible in order to attract a larger crowd. This time, I stayed just across the Bay Bridge in Emeryville. But I might as well had stayed in the Silicon Valley as the bottoms insisted I proved to be much too far for them to venture forth from the city itself.

I’m beginning to comprehend the mentality that the Bay is a great divide and few dare cross it. It’s similar to Atlanta and the Interstate loop around the city proper known as the Perimeter or I-285. People here refer to life “ITP” or “OTP” as in, “inside the Perimeter” and “outside the Perimeter.” Those inside dare not step outside for fear the air isn’t breathable. Many outside won’t go in for fear of rape, shootings or worst of all, paying for parking.

During my stay I fucked and bred three holes — a Latin, an Arab and a half-Asian. One crossed the divide for me (thanks), I crossed for one and the other happened to be on my side of the Bay.

Arab Ass

Arab ass is hot. Not metaphorically. I mean it’s temperature hotter than normal ass. I’m sure somewhere along the way I’ve fucked some Arab ass, but I just can’t access that index file at the moment. He was a late-night stop-by and I figured, what-the-fuck, here’s something new, I’ll try it. He wasn’t hideous but I’ll be damned if he wasn’t all that. He made up for it with enthusiasm, even licking my ass that I’d not exactly prepped for rimming (yet he lapped it up with gusto).

Let’s just say I was just there to breed him. He kept begging me to hold off so we could play some more but I didn’t. I injected hot sperm into his steamy ass.

Gotta had in to the Arab, he licked me clean, put on his clothes and said, “I go now.”

He slipped out into the night.


On my way to the airport, I stopped by his place. His photos on were hot, hot, hot. The photos were accurate but the attitude went a little more prissy than I’d hoped. We got down to business and his skills were okay as long as I pinched his nipples — damned bossy bottoms. Perform and I reward. Don’t expect me to reward so you’ll perform.

Anyway, this ass had been well-used many times and once I got into it, he opened up like a Morning Glory Bloom at dawn, making it impossible for me to cum. So I stopped being polite and started getting real, pushing him down to his stomach so I could fuck him like I meant it. He protested and resisted, but I finally got him where I needed. I went into top mode and lost how long it took, but I had to go harder and deeper to get my cockhead somewhere in his ass where it felt a little tightness. He just grunted. I finally buried it and pumped out a few squirts.


I save the best for last. Short and looking like a Marine, he stepped inside. When he kissed me, his mouth opened and he started with the tongue, from top to bottom. Sloppy. And sexy. Great chest with just a little hair. Hardcore angular face. And the fucking started almost immediately after I got hard. When he rode me, I got him close to the edge fast and we had to slow down.

Didn’t matter much. When I had him on his back, I fucked his ass hard and he grabbed his cock. Two jerks and thick, milky cum flew out.

He endured me fucking a little longer, beginning for my load and I let him have it.

Obviously, his thick cock was a top cock and this was a top fulfilling an itch that came along on occasion. But he let me finish off, which I appreciate.

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‘Don’t Call Me a Barebacker Even Though I Never Use a Condom’

‘Don’t Call Me a Barebacker Even Though I Never Use a Condom’

Direct message received from Twitter

Mark, please remove me from your public bareback list. (Why isn’t it private anyway? Isn’t a public list what the BBBH roster is for?) I try to keep this account from going beyond the “suggestive” level. Follow if you like but your list with its description is a “no” but I’d rather not have to block you to get off. Besides, you already have my dirty account on list 2 of 4. If I tweet about bareback sex, it’d be from that one.

* * *

Another closeted barebacker. In the end, I invited him to block me. He ended up on my bareback lists for comments made on October 29, in which he admits would be among the “very few explicit political/sexual” posts on the feed. He retweets comments from @BBSaunaSlut along the lines of “Bareback is king.”

That, my former follower, is how you got on my bareback list. You agree that barebacking is the way to go and you used #BBBH in a post.

My lists online provide some of the most comprehensive available of men who advocate barebacking online — or at least that I’ve discovered. Most people have a list of a few dozen or maybe a few hundred. Currently, my barebacker lists contain 1,668 men in four lists:

If someone attached to my feed makes a bareback-positive comment that rises to a level of likely participant, the account gets added. If someone doesn’t like it, just block me. Blocking me will drop one from all lists associated with an account. Unblocking immediately allows my account to see that same account again.

Truth is with this particular user, his fear of being associated with barebackers is just all out of sorts. He follows many on his PG account and, well, his many other comments are not sex-neutral. He’s just a pussy. Some friend of his confronted him when they noticed he’s a raw sex advocate and he freaked out. Instead of standing proudly that yes, he likes it without that plastic barrier, he buckled under and begged for mercy.

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Loading Zone: Bareback Virgin Top Experiences Bare Ass

Loading Zone: Bareback Virgin Top Experiences Bare Ass

[alert style=”green”]This message arrived yesterday, October 21, from a reader. With his permission, I’m posting his story. This adventure happened a couple of weeks ago. My new friend assures me this will happen again.

Want to tell your story? The Loading Zone is a feature of stories from readers of my blog. Just contact me Opens a new window from this blog and let me know what you’re interested in writing.[/alert]

Bareback Bliss for Raw Virgin

Yo. I’ve never read your blog before yesterday but felt like I had to give you the thumbs up for your uncompromising perspective. I wanted to relate a short story about how I opened up to the world of bareback sex my very first time.

iBLASTinside's Bareback Loading ZoneGrowing up religious and conflicted about my sexuality, I didn’t start looking into hooking up until my early 20s. I had never even kissed a guy and didn’t know how far I really wanted to go with some anonymous hookup. One night, though, a two-hour conversation on a hookup site led from one innuendo to another until I felt like my balls were going to explode. A hasty agreement was made and I drove over to meet another young college-age guy at his nearby apartment (stopping to buy condoms along the way, just in case).

When I got there he wasted no time at all, moving in to kiss me. I was apprehensive before his lips touched me, but once I felt his body against mine I knew I needed to fuck him. We lay together in his darkened bedroom, jerking each other off.

I have to admit he was so good at it that he had me exploding all over myself before I could even protest or work up the nerve to propose getting it inside him. He didn’t seem disappointed, but instead took it as a challenge to quickly get me hard again (unlike you, I can’t keep a hardon after cumming) and fuck my cock.

He was a foreplay master and although I was drained from the first orgasm, he got me hard again. The problem was, as I went to slip the condom on, my cock just wouldn’t stay up — blame a lack of stamina and the unfamiliarity, I suppose.

He had clearly noted my obvious difficulty as he said “Forget that. Let’s jerk off together some more” and rubbed lube on my uncovered cock as we pleasured ourselves.

After a few minutes I was rock hard again and he was begging me to rub it up against his hole. At this point, I was still a safe sex adherent, but I wasn’t going to say no to that kind of request, so I watched him turn over and started sliding my cock up and down his ass cheeks, rubbing the shaft and cockhead against his hole.

You probably know what this bottom was up to. He just wanted cock and cum in his ass. As I’m sitting there up against him, he calls me by name for the first time that night and tells me he wants me inside him. And thoughtlessly, without reaching for the condoms on the side table, at this first insistence I angle my cock a little and slid it right in, like there were no risks and as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

We had both listed an interest in “safe sex” on the site we met up, and here I was deep inside him raw, with him ordering me not to stop. As a kind of last-ditch formality, as I felt our instincts controlling us toward our climaxes, I breathlessly asked him where he wanted me to cum, to give him an out, to let him make the decision and restore saner sex practices for us.

His answer?

“I want it right where you are.”

That was it for me. I pumped a few more times as I felt all thoughts leave my brain. The only thing I knew was the absolutely amazing sensation of cum welling up out of my balls, shooting inside him as we clung together in ecstasy.

We didn’t talk about the bareback sex afterwards, but I stayed in his bed up against him, with no remorse or regrets over fucking him raw. If I had been physically capable of getting another hardon at that moment, I would have slid it in his ass raw again in a second to recapture that bliss.

I guess he thought he had to “trick” me into being up against his ass raw in order for me to slide it in and let my load loose inside him. Maybe he did. I certainly came around to his way of thinking quickly enough. All I know is the next time I go over to his apartment, I won’t even bring condoms. Both my loads are going in his ass, where they belong.


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Swinging Richards Review Posted to Sleazy Atlanta Guide

So my reviews of Atlanta’s sleazy guide would be incomplete without including Swinging Richards, the premiere strip club for Gay men in Atlanta. I admit it. I fucking love this place. I wish I could go more often and see the boys here. Someday I will. In the meantime, let me give you some of the secrets of the club, in case you didn’t know.

Dancers actually pay to work at Swinging Richards. Every night, the dancers “tip out.” A percentage of their tips or designated amount go to doormen, bartenders, the deejay and security. Therefore, the bartenders, bouncers, etc., are watching for anything given away for “free.”

The little blue pill might come into play. Because most of the dancers are straight, getting a hard-on is prime time to getting good tips. Boner pills are a welcome resource at the club.

All the dancers have multiple names. Their stage name isn’t usually their real name. If a dancer likes you, he might give you his “real” name, but often it’s also a version of their real name — like their middle name or a nickname. But don’t be upset by this.

A few dancers provide freelance work but most don’t. If they do, it will be expensive. Some use the same rate of $400 an hour as at the club, which is ridiculous since they must tip out at the club. A few have quoted me up to $1,500 for overnight.

Dancers will pop-off for you if you pay for it and request it. But don’t be surprised if they lie to you. Pay for at least 30 minutes in a private room and make sure the dancer hasn’t popped off yet. Ask the dancer what he prefers and likely you’ll end up sucking cock or eating ass for a while.

To get attention from a dancer you like, it takes cash. Dancers want it. It’s very simple. However, they aren’t all beef. Don’t touch them without their permission. Be polite and respectful. Generally, you’ll get attention you want but some dancers simply will not be interested in you. That’s how it goes. But tipping twice or three times while performing on the main stage helps get you noticed.

Some dancers have done porn. Some are even proud of it. Some aren’t.

Dancers lie. If dancers get your number, they might solicit you for funds outside the venue. Some might even ask that you send them money via Western Union or other means. Be cautious about this. Understand they usually won’t “pay you back” even in kind, especially at the club. Dancers won’t give you their true sexual orientation. They’ll see if they can pick up on your fantasy and answer the question based on what will turn you on and loosen your hold on cash.

Dancers are people too. Getting past all the shit they do and lies that patrons tell them, real people lie beneath the façade. They’re making their living. Many are students, some travel from out of town to work just for the weekend. So while it’s a fantasy, be a little careful.

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