All posts in Birmingham

That Was a Bust (or How Not to Host an Orgy)

That was a bust or how not to host an orgy
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Caligula would be disappointed.

The Roman Emperor rumored to host debaucherous orgies during his reign would be so disappointed at the scheduled orgy I attended yesterday. As I mentioned in my post Opens new window of a page on this blog, I thought I’d hit up my favorite local adult bookstore Opens new window of a page on this blog where a top had posted on BarebackRT.com Open-New-Window-External he was hosting an orgy at noon. Lunchtime on Fridays is a good time in Atlanta to find cum Opens new window of a page on this blog. I was optimistic.

That said, I also had my doubts.

The online party had 33 invited. I knew a few of the confirmed. When I texted a fellow top to check whether we’d be able to finally share a bottom together, his response: “Oh… I thought it was later. Sorry.”

I did think the host had made it clear it was at 12 noon, although the original posting on BBRT might have made it a little vague between 12 p.m. (noon) and 12 a.m. (midnight). The e-mails from the host did state “noon.”

However, the host’s e-mails weren’t clear about what was going on. After my prompting, he finally sent out this message:

poztopnow-orgy-email

I’d also suggested he included a link to my guide and review to Inserection Opens new window of a page on this blog (the correct spelling) for the folks coming out of town (the guest list included men coming from as far away as Birmingham, AL). You can see from my guide’s layout that upstairs includes four hook-up rooms. PozTopAtlanta, the host, never said anything further regarding the play area. He never unlocked his pics (at least to me) so I knew who he was.

The (Open Air Quotes) “Orgy” (Close Air Quotes)

I arrived at 12:06 p.m. The parking lot was packed so I had to park at the adjacent taco restaurant (you won’t get towed from there, it’s allowed). Paid my fee and went in.

Men were cruising like crazy downstairs. The sun had been particularly bright so I needed a moment for my eyes to adjust to the rather dark interior. After my half-hour drive, I also wanted to hit the bathroom.

I was upstairs by 12:10. All four rooms were occupied, doors closed and locked. Now surely I didn’t miss the “orgy.”

I’ve checked the definition of the word orgy Open-New-Window-External and, indeed, it means multiple people engaged in sex together.

Over the next two-and-a-half hours during my attendance, the men exiting the hook-up rooms were always in pairs. The doors were locked. I checked the darkroom downstairs.

I used the geolocation feature on BBRT to discover a few people there and messaged them but both were not at Inserection but lived nearby. Both Scruff and Grindr didn’t net me much of interest.

Eventually, I went into my usual cruising mode. I actually saw one of my bottom buds (who originally came for the orgy also but, like me, found nothing). He’d just committed to another top but promised to catch me a bit later. I occupied myself finding what I could.

The place turned out to be a bit top heavy. I ended up in booths across from tops three times (one I did suck for a bit; he was cute and had a great cock). After a bit, my bottom bud became free.

After our fuck, we compared notes.

He couldn’t find PozTopAtlanta either (he’d been hoping for a fuck) and, despite being a cute 23-year-old, couldn’t seem to find tops who would go bareback.

I headed on and he went off to grab a drink since the lunchtime crowd had died down.

Postscript

I’d hear from someone who missed the orgy that PozTopAtlanta, who’s profile lists himself as a top (obviously), actually got fucked and took 10 loads. I’m not sure where that happened. Perhaps that was his goal all along was to take all the tops and loads for himself and, if I’d arrived on time, I’d been in line to be load 11 or so.

Too bad for the bottoms.

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Travel Diary: Face of an Angel, Body Built for Sin

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I’ve started posting some photos over at http://barebacking.tumblr.com. More or less, it’s an outlet of some fun photography I run across on occasion and now that I have a little time on my hands, I’m able to post more. Today, I was able to put up twenty-one examples of men I can only say meet with a kind of perfection with the face of an angel but a body built for sin.

Occasionally, I even get to fuck one of these heavenly creatures.

I’m not stupid enough to think someone in their youthful twenties would find me attractive, so when a 22-year-old student said he would come by for a fuck, I found it highly improbable, especially seeing his body photograph. I’d never seen his face photo, but his body proved one of immense beauty. On some beach splayed across a blanket, his tanned six-foot-four frame stretched with a kind of grace not usually found among such youth. You could just make out the goatee.

His chest developed with slight pecs and massive nipples seemed to just beg to be chewed. The only hair trickled down the middle and built in a cascade to the ties for his overwhelming board shorts.

After giving him my hotel room, I never expected his arrival. I waited, half hoping for about 30 minutes but then went about my business, checking for more ads and seeing if a Monday night might bring me any more hope. Usually Monday night ads never worked out.

Late, as I prepared for bed, a knock came at the door that almost startled me. I opened it to see him.

His face proved to be stunning. Standing taller than me — a feat not so easy considering my six-foot-three size — he stepped into the room, apologizing and muttering something about his brother and class.

Dark wavy hair and an ivory smooth face blinded me. I closed the door, wondering if he’d actually stay. Not only my age but the sheer beauty of this man made it unlikely to get anything off him. But he pulled his jacket off, turned around and motioned at my pants. I unbuckled and opened as my cock began to rise immediately.

He knelt and began a blowjob that defied his youthful years. It’s not often I can say someone blows well. I think most men are just grateful to have a mouth on their cock, especially the semi-straight/hetero-flexible who get the occasional oral relief from a “genderless” mouth. But I find it rare indeed to find a man who knows how to deliver fellatio of sufficient quality that it will arouse me beyond a certain point.

This young man could make me cum.

No teeth, as if he only had gums, although I’d seen his perfect smile (obviously, he wasn’t long out of braces). He’d bury his nose into my bush and relax his throat so even though my cock still stood upright, his oral cavity proved cavernous enough to accommodate my seven incher. Plus, he exercised enough control to flex his throat and tongue to provide stimulation.

Now came a moment I debated.

Was I getting a pity blowjob. Did the boy mean to go through with this little act to get me off and get himself off the hook for the fuck? Or was it a prelude and was he waiting for my move? Or, if it was a pity blowjob, could I even turn it into a pity fuck?

At this point, I just wanted to see this angel naked.

I reached down and lifted him up. He came with a little resistance but still he stood. His eyes closed. We moved toward kissing and he accepted my prying to get his shirt and pants off.

His chest turned into more perfection but less tan than the photo. Obviously, he’d worked out. But the photo failed to capture the bulging veins in his arms and the incredible guns he’d worked on. As he lifted off his undershirt, the wisps of pit hair, dark against his ivory skin seemed like puberty had only began in the last month for him. Of course his hairy muscular legs betrayed his age. And once his boxers were off, his bush covered almost all of what might have been any cock whatsoever.

Maybe a grower, I imagined.

He sucked me more and we made out. But his eyes remained closed. He was locked in a fantasy world in which I would be someone else. I knew I would need to find the key to unlocking what this man needed. He seemed perfectly content servicing me — and for fuck’s sake, I enjoyed the hell out of it — I knew I could sneak under the door of this man’s weakness and awaken something.

As I went to work orally on him, I discovered what would make him stir. My beard. If I would scrape against the most sensitive spots — his neck, his cheek, his underarms, the inside of his elbows, across his nipples — he would inhale deeply and suddenly. My gentle prodding began to take on some rough and tumble moments, where I would surprise him. His skin glistening, wet from my spit, entirely electrified by my soft attention, would suddenly be attacked and scratched by the hairs of my chin, nibbled at by my teeth, bitten and scraped. His cock head appeared finally from the dark shadows of his pubes, but I ignored it, instead focusing of his almost bald taint, giving it similar treatment and heading for the hole.

After massive tongue lashing and opening it up, watching it wink at me, giving it so much spit and love with fingers and lips and licking of all sorts, his sphincter seemed to throb.

I pulled away and looked at the circular perfection. Even this seemed just beautiful on this man.

Without warning, I closed my mouth and plunged in, woolly hairs standing on end. I attacked his hole, now ready for a soft moment, with the bristles like nothing else, with the prickles across my face, spreading his cheeks and coating my face with the spit I’d soaked him in.

His moans filled the room.

My attack continued and abruptly ended and I moved to where I was face to face with him, my face coated in spit-ass juice.

Green EyesHis green eyes stared at me, open wider than ever before.

He kissed me, his eyes remained open, looking at me like he’d never seen me before.

My hard, dripping cock, poised at his red, raw hole. And as we kissed, I felt a hand grab my cock, position it at his hole and push it just inside. We continued the kiss as I entered into him, and I never thought his eyes could open wider. They did, the emerald pools expanding so I could see the eternity of his brief but difficult life within them. He bit my tongue inside his mouth, sucked it deeper, and we kissed more. Soon I was buried. And a moment in time turned into minutes.

We would kiss and fuck and talk, literally for two hours. My cock would never leave his hole except for repositioning. We talked about our lives and I learned more about this man’s 22 years, his girlfriend, his brother, the accident and his years of school. Moments that actually would make me want to take him from this life and take his brokenness to another place and show him that outside this world in which he lived, a whole other world existed where he would be adored. But my cock inside him, I could feel how his life was tied to his home, how he could never leave the place and would never, ever take the risk to step away.

While I never said it to him, his brother would be his unrequited love of his life. When he spoke of the mysterious man, his eyes would sparkle. No other man would capture this man’s soul and heart like his brother, who had sheltered him and cared for him through such times that poured forth from him. When he dared speak of his girlfriend, it was more obligatory rather than anything else. But his brother would actually bring a twinge to his ass and give my cock a shock.

When we finally realized the time, we fucked in earnest, my cock in his ass. He rode me, seeming to add juices to his ass, the friction getting tighter and but the chute getting smoother. Like the question of barebacking, I didn’t mention I was about to cum. He just looked at me with those jewel eyes and he could see my pleasure and moment coming. As I climaxed, pushing myself into him, adding just a bit of myself to him, he took the opportunity to spray himself onto me and across himself. His cock, now at about five inches, seemed small. But his body just perfection didn’t deny the beauty of every inch of his being. And the load flew everywhere.

When he collapsed on me, my cock remained inside him and his juices were meshed between us. I managed to scoop a little and put it on my tongue to remember it, the metallic flavor muted by a hint of bitter sweet. He then looked into my eyes, those evergreen irises even in the iridescent lights of a hotel room. In post-ejaculatory moments, he didn’t even seem to mess him up. His perfection would not be denied by a little cum and sex mess.

After not wanting to look at me for so long, he now stared for a while and his large hands brushed against my rough face. He whispered his thanks, kissed me again and let my cock pull out of his ass.

He clothed himself slowly and silently. He left with a kiss.

I don’t expect ever being able to fuck him again. And even within all he did not tell me, I know more than he chose not to share.

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Travel Diary: Like Ships Passing…

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A rarity indeed to find a man taller than I. His arrival had become doubtful after more than an hour had passed since our last communication, but when his knock came and I opened the door, all hesitation dropped. At 23, his broad shoulders defied his lanky frame. A dichotomy of beefy arms but thin basketball fingers. An age so young but a mouth so talented as he sucked my cock deeply as if he’d been trained in some southern Asian massage house.

His shyness gave way with prying from me as I wanted to see his chest, which proved worth while. Large round nipples with a dusting a dark hair but this perfection of a treasure trail from mid-pecs to pubes, inside which hid his cock. A grower, I wondered. But I let him suck me more. He seemed service-oriented and who be I to deny him his hunger?

But after a while, I did. I turned him onto his back and finally kissed him, the bitter starkness of the mixture of Crest and my own crotch seemed odd against my beard and his goatee. Yet a sweetness came through. We kissed a long while. Odd, since he seemed uninterested. His eyes stayed closed so I let him keep his fantasy of whatever man or creature he imagined he might be fucking. Here I spent my time enjoying the details of his being and taking in those nipples and that treasure trail. I lingered to find his limpness, but it did no good. He never hardened. So I moved on and tongued his balls only to work my way lower.

No resistance.

When my tongue first tickled his hole, his mouth opened and released a noise — not loud, mind you, but it was the first one uttered from his mouth other than the sloppy tones of sucking my cock. As my tongue darted into the folds of his skin and penetrated into that puckered darkness, more utterances escaped. So I began adding spit. Enough to make sure I would be able to do what I planned next.

When I came up for air was when I noticed his cock had risen as well. Not full-mast mind you. But it peaked from the dark thatch. As I kissed him, my cock found his spit-soaked hole and, without resistance, slipped just inside. Not all the way in, mind you. Just inside.

His eyes opened. Chocolate brown irises stared at me. He didn’t come off my cock. He didn’t move. So I applied a little more pressure and my cock slipped past that place of tightness into him. His eyes widened and then I knew.

He no longer fantasized about anyone else fucking him.

Into him more deeply, my cock penetrated and I fucked with a slow passion, only the spit between us. Kissing. Faster. Slower. I never slammed him. He was never that kind of fuck. We even talked a long while, my cock hard inside him. We liked how it felt to be connected.

When I came, he rode me. When he came, he rode me. Our moments criss-crossed within seconds of one another. No excuses, no discussions, we knew we were the proverbial ships passing in the night.

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Travel Diary: Bi or Straight?

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I meet up with the man from We Hold These Truths to Be Evident.

◊   ◊   ◊

Running late, I rounded the corner to see him down the hall from my room. As I pushed the key card into my door, he bounded up and walked in behind me.

“Sorry,” I sheepishly apologized for being tardy.

“It’s okay.”

We stood staring at each other in the garish florescent light. The last time we’d seen each other, we’d not been able to see all that much other than darkened forms. Now I couldn’t hide my imperfections, my 43-year-old skin, my slight but noticeable graying sprigs spiking through my sprouting beard. Did he think I had a spare tire? A bicycle tire? Maybe a motorcycle?

I looked into his eyes. For all his thickly matted brown hair, his eyes stared at me in a starkly contrast blue. I’ve heard of steel blue, sky blue, crystal blue. But none of these adequately described his eye color. While the irises struck me as so sapphire that no description ever really said enough about blue.

Then it struck me the blue I saw. Not a cold one of steel or ice crystals. I saw hot blue, like the natural gas flame on those stupid television commercials with people snapping their fingers and dancing around. His eyes danced on fire.

Then it happened.

His kiss seemed tentative. His lips didn’t part and his eyes remained wide open, even wider if they could be. But he closed the distance, touched me and we kissed. And in that moment, I knew the gray hairs and extra pounds and decade beyond him didn’t matter as much as our touch.

Seems almost romantic now, knowing now that in about 10 minutes hence, we would be animals, grinding with my cock deep in his ass, the rawness of our skin touching each other, my fingernails scraping his back as I felt the fevered goosebumps rise.

After two months of correspondence and the confessions of his desires after our last encounter, I now had this man in my grasp, if only for the time until his girlfriend returned and he fled from my hotel room back into her feeble arms. But for now, his mouth parted for the first moment and I finally tasted his tongue with mine. A sigh escaped my lips.

Fuck.Bi or straight guy?

I pulled him away from the unforgiving light and into the shadows near the bed. Even there, his blue-flame eyes denied the darkness, looking at me with a mixture of lust and allure. We kissed again, pressing in tighter, urging him to crank open that jaw and let me sample the delights of his spit. He did.

An eternity. A moment. We parted. “Wow.” He smiled. I removed my shoes. He took off his shirt. We were both hard, the bulges in our pants so obvious. I took off my shirt. He took off his shoes. Then I undid his belt and pushed his shorts and underwear down. He did the same to me. Socks went flying and finally, we fell onto the bed, smiling, kissing and touching one another into a frenzy of nudity.

This stranger I’d fucked and bred once who held some bizarre attention for me. I had a name for him, but was it his really? Even in the naked tangle of kisses, sucking, licking and pleasures, my mind raced about just how long I’d have to indulge myself before he’d suddenly race away to his other life where no one knew that my DNA made up a part of this man.

We each take moments pleasuring one another. Yes, indeed, indulging him in just laying back and letting my mouth lick, my teeth nibble, my fingertips brush, my hands grip. I sucked on his thick cock. As a top, he would satisfy both guys and girls. The girth would seem massive and challenging even for the most adept bottom. And most girls would squeal in delight since his length stood remarkable rigid but not obscenely long. Even I, the top, felt my own asshole twitch as this man’s magic continued to bypass my defenses and reach into the weaker spaces of my psyche.

Inside my mouth, his cock seemed to find the ability to get harder, but still against my tongue the taste of his heart beat pulsed. Just a touch of his precum would leak and his sweet and salty essence hinted at so much more to come later.

Lower to his balls, lower still to his taint and finally to that beautiful hole. Turning him over, his cheeks spread, I now devoured the meal before me. Opening him up, my tongue just inside, feeling it tighten on the tip of my tongue. I licked on. Working it and opening it up. The complexity and subtle flavors delighted my palate. Injecting as much into his hole, he began to loosen and open up to the attention.

In another tangle of kisses and naked limbs, he maneuvered on top of me, lubed up my cock and began to sit on it. He didn’t flinch or pull out. He impaled himself steadily with no appearance of pain, no grunt of satisfaction, no sound of discomfort, no hint of enjoyment. But as his ass cheeks settled on my thighs and his sugar walls began to flex with my cock inside, this slow appearance of contentment began to flood his face. No, not contentment. Completeness.

In a moment, both our more basic needs — the desires we had expressed in e-mails to one another — would come flooding forth in passionate, rapid fucking that would be hot, frenzied and overwhelming. Neither of us would find it particularly perfect since our tempos were more steady and quiet. How unusual for me to find a matching bottom, not insistent on some porn-induced code of ass-slappy dirty talk or strange grunts to assure the dumb bottom that indeed, the cock in his ass was that of a man.

Our silent connection worked and, like a perfectly tuned V8, fired on so many levels.

We fucked in many positions. On his back, on his side, on his stomach. Each allowed me to feel my cock snaking into his practically virgin hole that he claimed so few had violated prior to my arrival. I somehow felt a little evil knowing how many men I’d entered raw before him. Him virginal compared to my experience, yet we meshed in this moment.

Soon he rode me again and started begging for my load. “Please explode in my ass!”

“You can’t have it,” I teased back.

“Why not?” his smile cocked to the side, his eyes flared as he clenched my cock tighter.

“You just can’t have it,” I winked.

“What do I need to get your load?”

“What do I need to get you?”

I said it before I knew it. The words shocked even me, my mouth agape as I realized what I’d just said.

He looked at me, a tenderness coated his face.

“Always maintaining control,” he said. “I’ve read your blog.”

I never told him about the blog.

What followed was a conversation that stopped our sex but stripped us both of the pretensions between us. I learned about his girlfriend and how unlikely it would be that I would ever take her place, although the unrealistic thoughts really hadn’t crossed my mind. This veil of mysteries between us finally folded and we began to see each other as true humans, although I still wanted to use his ass and he still wanted my cum. Our conversation remains private, the true moments of intimacy between two men.

I will say, though, I’d never known anyone to read their own encounter with me on my blog and jerk off to it. And cum. Hot.

After a while, we kissed more and the blood coursed back into our cocks and I proceeded to fuck him passionately with good measure, building to the moment we’d both waited and wanted until I released my seed into his ass. My load came a quick torrent, a short burst, but then released in small spurts over the next few minutes as he jerked: “I can still feel your cock releasing your cum in my ass.”

He shot his load across his perfect chest, this milky perfection that I couldn’t resist. My tongue scraped across it and I tasted him, truly him. I looked at him, his eyes still on fire. Staring still, I went in for another sample. Then I felt his hand on the back of my head and he pulled me in for a kiss.

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Travel Diary: We Hold These Truths to Be Evident

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My self-imposed exile from this blog did not mean my cock went limp and my life stopped. Interestingly enough, not many people have reacted to my holiday. A dozen comments or so with a few mocking. Fuck off. I could care less.

But as I traveled of recent, boredom overtook, luring me into posting an ad that resulted in a hook up. At his request, my preferred scenarios would be played out. He’d come into my hotel room, strip, lay down and I’d fuck him. In fact, he specifically asked for 10 to 15 minutes of fucking before departing. No kissing. No sucking. Just raw fucking. He e-mailed from outside the hotel making sure I was hard.

Standing in the darkness, my cock slicked with Gun Oil, I stroked it beyond half hard and waiting for the common sound. He knocked politely then the door opened, the garish hallway fluorescents invaded then faded as the door slammed shut. I heard his clothes rustle and then saw him round the corner and land on the bed.

His six-foot frame across the ivory comforter proved to be all I needed. My cock snapped to full mast. No need for jacking. I stripped my shirt off, already without pants and hopped onto the bed.

My fingertips brushed against his skin and something passed between us, electric. While he couldn’t see me, he moaned, so I knew he felt it too. I didn’t delay, finding his asshole between the perfect mounds of smooth flesh. As I touched him, hints of manly musk and soap dusted the air around us.

Beneath me, I knew this man-creature could be something more than just another fuck. While he didn’t purr like a cat, I could feel as if this motor ran inside him. A kind of engine generating a heat that emanated from within him. Part of me wanted to believe it some sort of perpetual clock but another, more ominous part worried it a countdown timer with a bomb. Exactly how long until the explosion remained a mystery.

So my cock, rigid at its full seven inches, throbbing and anticipating what would come next, was bent with my right hand to meet my left, already teasing his hole. And I pressed the mushroom head, slick with oil and precum against the pucker. He arched his back and eased it in.

He groaned and moved slowly to meet my building pressure to push my entire rawness into his hole.

Not all holes feel the same. Each one feels different. Like a fingerprint, the sensation can be unique and the impression can be unlike any other. First, his had a warmth, a few degrees hotter than any other. Its formfitting tightness, of course, felt good. But then this throbbing and vibration began in his manhole. He worked it on his own, of course, but the movement seemed almost beyond his control — involuntary. The milking motion and more began to bring be closer to the edge but I resisted, knowing I’d been inside of him less than a minute.

Usually, I don’t give a shit. I’m about my own pleasure. But suddenly, with this bottom, I have something to prove. I’m going to make it to the 10-minute mark.

The sensation so enjoyable fades as I move my mind in another direction and I let it pass. Instead, I look down at the body beneath me, pumping in concert with me. I let myself touch him, not to force him deeper on my cock, but to feel his skin. It’s just below the left shoulder blade. Just beneath his skin, I could feel his muscles moving. His skin felt warm and a kind a charge seemed to keep my hand glued there as I glided it over his body, joined by my right hand. Soon I touched his shoulders, his back, his waist, his ass, then up and around to his abs to his pec and found his nipples, where he groaned in pleasure.

I didn’t stop there. I touched all I could, even his incredibly thick cock, rock hard and vibrating like his ass. Now I knew where it was coming from.

He was the first to break the silence.

“Oh man, that cock feels so fucking good.”

The ticking time bomb. I wondered. But finally, I asked.

“Would you like to try a different position?”

A beat. A pause. Like an eternity. He responded a simple, “Yea.”

My cock slid delicately and he scooted over. His eyes remained closed until my cock entered him again and they flew opened. He looked at me. His eyes didn’t close back. Maybe, just maybe, he liked what he saw.

My gaze broke away from his and glanced over the perfection of his body. While not muscularly defined, he defined masculinity. While perfectly smooth, the perfection of his body felt brutish. I leaned over just to smell him.

Intoxicating.

And the seconds blurred into minutes. His hole, a pleasure tunnel, incredible and immeasurable in my penetration as I attempted to find how far I could reach. His nipples would pleasure him with just the lightest touch, so I would work them. Not hard. Just right. I made sure he received pleasure, not just from my cock, but from my fingertips.

I didn’t contemplate at the moment why I actually wanted this man to enjoy his time with me. Now as I sit here writing about it, the intensity between us seems almost real. Something I can touch. Like his body. His incredible body. Just beneath my fingertips.

He stroked his thick cock.

“Shoot your load, man,” he said. “Fuck me really hard.”

I picked up the pace after snorting some poppers.  Then I popped, breeding his ass. And he shot, across that chest, streams of cum, white and juicy. I had to resist licking it. Touching it. Feeling it. I wanted his DNA as much as he wanted mine.

“That was fucking hot,” he said as I rolled off him.

We didn’t speak much as he left. I didn’t know what to say.