All posts in spit

Chris: Hot Jock Ass for Sale (and Moves to Orlando)

Bareback-Escort-Chris-In-Detroit
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Do you live in Orlando or plan on visiting? Feel like fucking ass or perhaps looking to get some jock cock?

iBLASTinside's Escort Bareback ConfessionsI’ve got some someone for you to consider.

A little while back, I wrote about Chris. When I visited Detroit, Chris showed up on my BarebackRT.com Open-New-Window-External geo-search and I hit him up, without knowing he was an escort.

Allow me to say, this fucker is hot.

Hot, hot, hot.

If you happen to visit Orlando during the summer, he can make your visit scorching. Hitting up the Magic Kingdom? Your time will be more magical! I can’t say enough good things about this man.

If you’ve ever considered purchasing sex, this is one to go ahead and try it out. He’s definitely worth it.

Read the Interview with Chris

Postscript

Chris-in-Detroit-FaceThis interview also includes Chris’ perspective about getting fucked by me.

 

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Chris: Hot Jock Ass for Sale

Bareback-Escort-Chris-In-Detroit
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Rating: 4.3/5 (3 votes cast)

Do you live in Detroit or plan on visiting? Feel like fucking ass or perhaps looking to get some jock cock?

iBLASTinside's Escort Bareback ConfessionsI’ve got some someone for you to consider.

Chris showed up on my BarebackRT.com Open-New-Window-External geo-search and I hit him up, without knowing he was an escort. We still fucked, which I’ll describe in a future entry.

Allow me to say, this fucker is hot.

Hot, hot, hot.

If you’ve ever considered purchasing sex, this is one to go ahead and try it out. He’s definitely worth it.

Read the Interview with Chris

Postscript

Chris-in-Detroit-FaceI hear that Chris does travel and, in fact, he’s off to Phoenix for a little while here in mid-April 2013.

And this interview also includes Chris’ perspective about getting fucked by me.

 

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Q&A: Can His Poz (But Undetectable) Load Go into My Neg Ass and I Stay Neg?

Fucking hurts this bottom too much
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QuestionI love reading your blog! Not only is it hotter than fuck, but it’s also super informative.

My partner and I are both in our 40s. He’s poz, I’m neg. Recently, after almost a decade together, we started fucking bareback.

When I fuck him, I don’t use a condom and I cum inside him.

When he fucks me (which is more frequent) he pulls out and cums on my ass. I’d love for him to cum inside me but he won’t do it. He doesn’t want to be responsible for making me poz.

His viral load has been undetectable for years.

What are the risks to me if he were to cum inside me? I really want his load in me.

Your blog rocks!

AnswerKudos on you two sharing your DNA! Well, one of you is sharing yours, actually. You really want his and to experience jizzjoy Open-New-Window-External.

I’m going to give you the skinny first with a couple of alternatives.

What Your Doctor Might Say…

What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Slap that condom on both of you and forget about it.

The Drug Route

Serodiscordant Open-New-Window-External couples, as a physician would call you, makes the negative partner a perfect candidate for prophylaxis Truvada Open-New-Window-External regimen, which means you’d take the antiviral as a precaution against getting HIV.

It’s an expensive choice and, in some cases, your insurance may not cover it since it’s just preventative. Plus, you may or may not suffer side effects of the drug.

Now for what I really think.

And part of me wants to take you both, slap you up side the head and then have your partner fuck you and teach you, as a bottom, how to make sure that fucking load ends up with it belongs.

You’re both already doing everything else.

When You Fuck Your Boyfriend

Let me paint a picture.

Micron-DickThis is your cock in the photo your provided to the right. It is 8 inches long and 4 inches around.

Now because HIV is a little bugger, I’m just (for fuck’s sake) going to convert inches into millimeters because that’s the smallest measurement we all think of in our daily lives (but you’re going to be proud because your cock is going to sound huge).

Your cock is 203 mm long and 102 mm around.

The approximate surface area of your cock is 24,000 square millimeters (if your cock were a perfect cylinder, and that calculation skips the base).

That much surface area is going into the HIV-rich juices of your boyfriend’s ass every time you fuck him. Every time. Deep in his gut.

Visualize that for a moment. The smallest skin cut gives a route into your skin.

Now to get really fucking real, HIV is 10,000 times smaller than a millimeter. HIV is about 0.1 micron. In other words, if we were to measure the area of your cock in microns, that would be 24 million square microns. And each square micron could give 100 bugs to pass through at any given time.

Let’s multiply that out even more and say that the “holes” available for HIV to invade your body just through your cock’s surface area alone is something like 2.4 billion.

But so far, you haven’t gotten it.

It’s not like you’re not risking getting it when you fuck him.

When Your Boyfriend Tops You

Has he put a cork in his cock? Has he assured there’s no precum slipping out through that pee-hole?

I’ve never gotten the whole “pulling out” bullshit, which is why I blast inside (sorry, couldn’t resist).

Now he’s inside you, pumping away. Your most vulnerable moments are when you first stretch out and microfissures can open up in the linings of the colon. The colon offers lots of opportunity to transfer bodily fluids both ways, but of course the bottom is receiving.

As he’s fucking you in those early stages, he is grinding his fluids into your ass and into whatever openings are there. You’re getting his precum, his spit, his sweat, left over piss, and pretty much anything else between the two of you anyway.

Take those same measurements and of his cock and you can take the amount of your interior skin being exposed to his fluids through that touch.

I’m skipping your oral activity and the debatable kissing and other fun stuff. And I didn’t even bother to suggest there might be something a little more kinky going on.

Here’s the Point

If you were to become poz, it likely would have already happened. But let me make the logical point.

Your boyfriend’s viral load — the amount of the virus in his blood — is undetectable. I can’t stress this enough. Tests can’t detect it.

I know it’s not an exact congruence, but it’s like HIV has gone into remission. It’s hiding. It’s somewhere in the body, but you just don’t know where it is or when and where it will likely turn up.

While there’s a chance that it could change at anytime and reemerge, for now he’s essentially negative.

You’re both basically seroconcordant Open-New-Window-External.

Either fuck or don’t. I personally say fuck. Your boyfriend needs to understand that you can just as easily become HIV-positive by what you’re currently doing if the virus decides to return. But tomorrow there could be an earthquake or an asteroid or a car wreck. I’m not suggesting you live your life as if you’ll die tomorrow. I’m suggesting you live your life as if the traffic light is on green all the time, not yellow.

Postscript

You do need to be prepared for the possibility of conversion Open-New-Window-External, even if you keep fucking the same way you are now. And while I wouldn’t pretend to know the nature of your relationship, I am betting you don’t have a problem with being poz. He’s not hearing you right now because he sees the prejudice that being positive brings among gays.

I want that to stop as much as you do. My point of all this was to make it clear that you both are lucky to have found one another. It’s a wonderful thing to share and your partner needs to stop feeling guilty that he might expose you to something that you’re exposed to already.

It’s a choice you’ve both made to share. I think it’s wonderful.

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Mark Bentson aka iBLASTinside welcomes getting messages from his readers and loves answering them. Send a message to iBLASTinside@gmail.com mailbox_full or hit him up on his contact page Opens new window of a page on this blog.

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Recognition

Fucking a beefy bottom!
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If you’ve ever been through corporate testing for your personality, the results will show the kind of person one might be. Back in 1998, I went through some extensive testing and it determined I happened to be an extreme introvert Link Opens in a New Window.

That doesn’t necessarily mean I’m shy as much as it indicates my focus tends toward internal factors — I’m more reflective, inward looking. Add to that my own hate of smoky bars (and smokers Opens a new window from this blog) and social anxieties toward large crowds and, well, you’re talking about someone who’d much rather stay home than go to the latest concert or wander around a gay bar trying to pick up bottom.

Through the past decade and a half, I’ve taken up a project on myself to open myself up. This blog among the therapies, but I’d do things as subtle as wear brightly colored shirts to work rather than the bland, fade-into-the-background hues that allowed me to skulk through the office unnoticed.

Am I an extrovert Link Opens in a New Window yet? Actually, I’ve tipped to the other side in testing, more ambivert (in the middle) than anything else.

Imagine my surprise of late as more and more people on Scruff recognize me both by my geek glasses or by my cock shots.

During my current job, I leave Scruff, Grindr and Kik Opens a new window from this blog open (and I often check BarebackRT.com Link Opens in a New Window) since I have a horrible boss (he had me come in on my day off just so he could yell at me for a couple of hours last week).

A local beefy bottom on BBRT and I can never seem to synchronize. We’ve attempted to hit the local adult bookstore Opens a new window from this blog or swing by his place for an anonymous fuck. I’d never seen his face, just his beefy body with a little hair and some miscellaneous, non-distinct tattoos.

He seemed a little like one of those tomcats near a dumpster at midnight underneath the streetlight. He looked cute from a distance and might be tame but a sudden move and he’d dart away. In fact, he would disappear from my radar for a period of time but reappear, asking when were we ever going to fuck.

Usually this tomcat-and-dog game wouldn’t seem alluring to me. I’m a no-nonsense kind of guy. I want to fuck your ass and breed it. If you’re good at it, I might fuck you again. Otherwise, I’m done. Yet toying around with him had his allure.

We’d finally exchanged cell numbers because I had a tendency to pop downtown and he didn’t hit BBRT with enough frequency to notice my visits. I’d mentioned one such visit Monday night and he’d given me at deadline to be at his place by 8 p.m.

I couldn’t make his deadline.

On my day off, Thursday, I’d been in the office for a while and let my boss yell at me for a couple of hours straight. I’ve learned not to argue back because the idiot wouldn’t let a fact get in the way of his being pissed off. After he calmed down, he dismissed me, not wanting to pay for any more extra time with me this week, so I left, heading downtown to check on a friend in a hospital.

Scruff had been open at work and stayed open.

Imagine my surprise as I received a message that simply said, “I’m sorry that Monday didn’t work out.”

I finally see his face — round and handsome with a Van Dyke Link Opens in a New Window. I’d seen him mostly naked — in a jock — and found his beefy wide pecs with the fur down the middle to tree-trunk legs quite attractive. His ass provided a wide target and muscular mounds but no one would accuse him of being a “bubble butt.”

Bubble butts seem so inflated that sharp objects might cause them to “pop.” His ass provided a more substantial challenge.

We toyed with one another, as we always did online. But in the end, he relented and agreed to let me come over. It would be an anonymous encounter. Him naked on his knees to blow me hard then I’d breed him.

I arrived, parked and walked in the designed backdoor (how coincidental) into a hall just off his bedroom. In the darkness, he’d lit one candle that provided enough light to allow me to see the figure in the room.

Perfection is not accurate, but to me, perfection is not desired. I like a man with beefy pecs without distinct definition of a six pack. He’s got hair in all the right places without removing it, shaving it or waxing it. He’s a real man. He likes beer, dogs, football and chicken wings. He doesn’t spend his life at the gym but has his priorities balanced.

This is the kind of man I recognize.

He’s blindfolded. I unbuckle my belt, unbutton and unzip my jeans and flop out my cock, anxious to get it into his mouth. I step up and my cockhead brushes against his moustache as I place my hand on the back of his head where he’s got a full scalp of short-cropped hair.

“Suck that cock,” I said. “Get it hard.”

His mouth flew open with exuberance of a hungry man who hasn’t eaten for weeks and caressed my cock as it  swelled to hardness. He bobbed his head up and down,  interspersed the work with occasional licks of my balls, which thanks to the cool weather were tight up against my body but swollen. I’d shaved them a while back, so the light layer of stubble on my contracted testicles tickled a little.

I didn’t plan on this being a long session. And while he’d followed my instructions to a T, I don’t imagine he’d really wanted it to be more than a quick dump and go either.

But we all recognize chemistry when it happens and it began to blossom in the room. His oral skills were above par and he kept reaching up under my shirt. My tit tweaks were getting responses so I decided maybe I’d make this a little more fun.

I stood him up to discover he stood quite a bit shorter than me — probably about five-foot-seven. But his beefy wide stance still struck me as I pushed him back onto the bed and climbed up, kicking off my shoes and pants.

Positioning myself so my cock went right underneath his balls, his own prick stood out at attention

I growled. He responded in kind and soon my mouth covered his and we were kissing deeply. He slurped at my mouth and tongue.

He was thirsty.

“Spit in my mouth, please Sir,” he requested.

I obliged.

It had been a while since I’d had a fuck who wanted my spit and, let’s be honest, I didn’t exactly tank up for this little adventure. I’d just expected a fuck and go. But here I am kissing. My pants are off. I’ve got this naked body beneath me and, God’s honest truth, I wanted to completely feel it.

Off came my shirt too.

Now I nibbled on his perky nips, for which he jerked every time. Then I dropped to his cock and balls.

To be honest, I found his cock impressive for a bottom. Not huge but perfect for a man his size. Thick with a purple angry color to it. Yet I ignored it and went to his balls, tickled them a little with my tongue and then put my hands under the bend of his knees. I pushed him up and exposed his pucker on this wide, fuzzy hole.

It winked.

I dove into it without hesitation, tasting a mixture of soap and something else there. But I worked my tongue and a bit of spit into it. Licked his balls, nibbled a nip then kissed him deeply so he could taste his own ass.

Then I lined my cock up to his hole.

“You’re going to need more spit than that,” he said.

I spit on my hand and rubbed it into the head of my cock before pushing against his sphincter.

Pushing harder.

I pierced him, entering into his ass.

Raw, I ripped inside his ass and entered him the way a man should get fucked. Not a lot of lube. Just a little spit. So he could feel me at every millimeter as my invader worked into him farther and farther.

He began to beg.

And I began to fuck.

His thick, tree-trunk legs up around my shoulders as I moved my waist in almost an awkward fashion, working my way into his ass and out.

I would almost pull out and he’d tell me, “Wrong way. I want it all inside me.”

I did finally pull out to put him on top and let him ride. But he was a good little cum slut and sucked my cock some first before climbing on board.

He bounced. We kissed. I bit his nipples. He recognized how perfect my cock would be for double penetration Opens a new window from this blog. We fucked more. I made sure he had plenty of my spit to swallow.

“I think it’s breeding time,” I said.

“Would you fuck me on my stomach?” he said.

“You know that’s how I like it,” I said.

He hopped off and I moved out the way so he could crawl face down and let me invade. Despite his substantial beefiness, my taller frame allowed me to cover him almost completely.

I began to fuck and he began to beg. “Give me your fucking cum man! Breed my fucking ass, man! Let me have your load! Put it in my ass!”

I did. I shoved it in deep and my cock throbbed, flexed and began to shoot my load deep inside him. In his case, it felt particularly deep. Rocking my hips a few more times, I left my cock inside him like a butt plug as we kissed and chatted a bit more.

I pulled out. He felt his asshole.

“It’s wet,” he said.

“I wonder why,” I responded.

He licked and sucked my cock clean.

“Full service,” I said, thanking him.

He left his blindfold on as I put my clothes on and left. He played with his cock a little, which I wouldn’t deny him Opens a new window from this blog.

I spit into his mouth one last time before slipping out the door into the chilly night.

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Travel Diary: A Little Latin Spice to Make My Tropical Vacation Memorable

Key West Postcard
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It’s funny how things don’t work out the way one plans.

I arrived in Key West on a Wednesday night. I expected a build up of ass to peak with a crescendo over the weekend and a tapering off until I left the following Wednesday.

Alas, that did not occur.

Not that I was hunting for hole. In a way, I expected it to find me. I had offers, but I decided to be a bit picky rather than accepting just any ass thrown my way. Interestingly, I think the whole relaxing and doing nothing actually calmed down my hormones and made me crave ass less. Plus I got my fill of naked boys and attention at clothing optional destinations including my B&B and the nightclubs I frequented.

After the weekend concluded and Monday inched along, that itch rose a bit and I realized I’d built a hefty load in my balls that needed to find a home — and soon.

Unfortunately, BarebackRT.com Link Opens in a New Window showed little sign of life, with Scruff and Grindr not too far behind and Jack’d so far netted me nothing. I posted on Craigslist using a generic top looking for bottom post and lucked up with a few potentials. I’d been posting on CL for a while — mostly my “top blogger coming to town and looking for bottom inspiration” ads with little luck (except for the hot guy who’d blown me off).

I got a mixture of responses, a few of which were legit among the flakes. One caught my eye and it wasn’t just the fact he was 20 years old Latino visiting the island. He’d offered his phone number early in the exchange and we began texting almost immediately after when he asked, out of the blue: “Are you the top blogger?”

“Blogger?”

“I figured you were,” he answered, without a confirmation. “It’s really cool if you are.”

“What are my chances if I am?” I wrote back.

“I’d say your chances are really good.”

Within a few minutes, we were meeting on Duval Street and headed back to my B&B.

In shorts, flip-flops and a Hollister t-shirt, he looked like the vision of someone from an advertisement. Smooth with very few specks to even call freckles dotting his face, he was perfectly tan and his wavy black hair just cropped perfectly against his scalp. His deep hazel eyes glanced me over as I took his broad hand into mine and we shook. He was warm — not as much in demeanor as in physically, like he’d just crawled out of a tanning bed.

Our chit chat seemed almost about nothing important as we compared our lodging choices. Soon we were walking through the gate and into the courtyard. I gave a little tour of the property and we ended up in my room. With the enthusiasm of his age, he soon removed all his clothes.

His body proved to be one of those not-an-ounce-of-extra-fat-or-flesh perfection. A mixture of tan and olive, his smooth skin was blemished rarely by a freckle. He didn’t contain any extra muscle either, so he didn’t pack on huge pectorals. His legs were almost hairless and he’d shaved his pubes off. His balls, drawn tight up into his cock, looked hairless as well.

I moved in closer but he pushed me away.

“I don’t really kiss,” he said.

I tried not to seem disappointed, but I was. His fat lips seemed too inviting for me not to lick just a little.

“You still suck, don’t you?” I motioned toward my cock.

He didn’t answer, instead moving toward my half hardness and  moving his mouth over its delicate skin.

He needed more practice but not bad. He kept his lips and mouth frozen while the bobbing of his head provided all the friction to bring me up to full mast. Still, I didn’t care. I played with the hair on the top of his head and then pulled him up and moved toward his cock. All the while I let my fingertips dance across his body until my mouth found the tip of his cock.

Yes, I sucked his cock and he inflated to an impressive 8 inches. Much larger than I dared reach. And fuck if he wasn’t thick with a slight bend to the left. The impressive size seemed even more humongous thanks to all the missing hair. Honestly, this boy wasn’t too hairy or had been shaving for a long while as I didn’t sense any prickly around his cock base.

I went for the balls — a little rougher, mind you, but still very smooth. Youth, it seems, can be so very tasty. As I began to lift his legs, he didn’t stop me and I went in search of his hole by taste.

My tongue found a crevice but it didn’t seem right. I pulled back.

What I saw happened to be among the most unique sights ever.

Most people have a ring around the rosie, so to speak. The external sphincter’s fleshtone appears a little darker or lighter, depending on the man. Sometimes it’s a few rings.

Not him. His skin maintained its perfectly olive bronzed tone up until his asshole, which appeared as nothing more than tiny folds like a quarter-inch crucifix. I’d never seen an ass like his. I wondered if he had any sensitivity in his ass.

As I returned my tongue to his ass, I soon discovered my answer.

His thick 8-incher had been hard but very pliable — like a dildo. But as I went to work and the cross-shaped pucker widened, his cock became more rigid — more similar to a vibrator. Soon it grew even thicker and longer. It stood in place, attention as the most dedicated soldier.

As with any 20-year-old, he hadn’t quite learned to share attention, used to the men who lathered upon him kudos on his good-looks and great body. But he took the subtle direction well as I reached for some Spunklube Link Opens in a New Window and began to spread it on his asshole and use my fingertips to tease that holy hole open just a bit more.

I righted myself, proceeding to poke my cockhead against the hole.

“Mind if I sit on it?” he asked.

“Works for me,” I said, rolling off and onto my back.

My cock too was rigid and pointing at my belly button. A string of precum dangled off in anticipation as he maneuvered in front and slowly lowered himself. But he did so without hesitation, with ease and sat down completely to the hilt within moments.

He was a natural bottom.

We’d never discussed condoms and, as he’d read this blog, knew I’d bareback. He seemed at ease with the fucking and enjoyed it, but didn’t vocalize a lot. Truth is, I’m not very loud either.

His chute adhered to my cock so smoothly, it was a fuck never to forget. Like a key sliding into a slot with just enough space for a perfect fit, his ass walls just seemed to fold into every skin fold of my cock. At first, he would move a lot to try to give me pleasure — something I found humorous since the movement seemed almost robotic, just like his sucking. However, thanks to his perfectly pliable ass, it didn’t feel robotic as the skin’s friction would give way just perfectly.

I soon found myself losing control of my own choice of when to cum.

I suggested he relax and let me do the fucking. Interestingly, he’d read my 11 Commandments for a True Bottom Opens a new window from this blog and attempted to adhere to at least some of them, even asking permission to play with his own cock.

“Just don’t cum first,” I said. “I want to be sure I get to cum.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “The fucking isn’t over if I do cum.”

That made me want to test it out by having him cum on my cock then letting me fuck him with his cum, but I dare not risk not being able to load this boy up.

We settled into a leisurely pace and soon I put him on his stomach, staring at his hairless and smooth bubble butt before shoving my cock inside and mounting up for the breeding of his life. I snorted poppers and let myself lose control, asking him only once if he wanted it.

“Yes,” he said. “Give it to me.”

That one positive response was enough that I lost it in that perfect hole and began to flood it. And when I say flood, I mean flood. Since I hadn’t cum in about a week, I let loose a torrent out of my balls that soon lubricated that space between my cock and his ass walls. I pushed it in deeper.

“Just don’t cum inside me,” he said.

Oops, I’m thinking. It’s a little too late.

As I’d mentioned, we’d been fucking very quietly so I hadn’t really done the whole, “I’m cumming,” and grunting thing. I just generally don’t make a show of it. And here I am, pushing my cum deeper inside him and he’s asking me not to cum inside him.

I pretend like I’m having a build up to cum and I pull out and grunt, pretending to cum with my head on his back. As he knows about the truth now, he’s probably thinking “did I or did I not feel the splash of cum on my back?”

The funny thing: As I rolled off of him, he climbed right back into my cock and rode it until he squirted. And let me tell you, he squirted all over. Some went over my head, some landed on my cheek, my chest, etc. He looked away for a moment and I tasted it, just to sample some from the fountain of youth. He’d never know. After all, we weren’t kissing.

We chatted for a bit. Luckily he never put on his shirt until he left. I’d gladly have kept him there all night. But I sure as hell missed the kissing part. He asked if I would write about him and I expressed that I wanted to, knowing that I’d bred him and wondering if he’d really noticed.

He requested I withhold his home state and where he was staying as well as any photos he’d sent me, which I reluctantly agreed in order for you, dear reader, to read this. The rest is basically true, most especially the part about me breeding his ass when he asked me not to do so.

If he’d really been reading my blog, he’d know I always make a deposit. I don’t fuck with condoms and I don’t pull out. No matter how hot, how young or how great your ass is. As a matter of fact, the hotter, younger or better your ass, the more I can guarantee I’m going to breed it.

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