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I Am An Ordinary Guy And A Big Ole Geek

Geek-Glasses
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I am an ordinary guy and a big ole geek. I never proclaimed myself to be anything more or less.

Okay. Maybe I am a stud. And I don’t mean a stud in some amorphous sense that one looks at a hot guy and goes, “Damn, he’s a stud.” I also don’t mean the term you might find in some urban dictionary where it refers to a general bad ass.

I am the animal kingdom version of a stud.

Definition: “An animal retained for breeding.”

Those who give me half a chance to get hard and shove my cock into their hole realize two things:

1. This guy has a very hard cock.

2. This guy knows how to fuck.

Given time, a third thing happens.

3. He breeds.

Knock on wood — primarily, my own — that’s what happens.

My blog here makes no secret of who I am and the type of person I happen to be. I should work out more. I’m not hugely fat. I have one tattoo. I wear geek glasses. I am not stud looking.

Bottom-BrainiacImagine my surprise when this fucking brainiac arrives at my door and says he’s confused who I actually am. Apparently, he’d confused me with some of the porn images on my website.

As he explained — in trying to leave and not have to see me naked — he’d assumed I was the beefy, tattooed guy who was fucking on my site.

Now I went through the last several entries. For the most part, all the porn stuff is labeled. So let’s say the dumb ass can read (but after chatting with him a bit, I’m not sure about that).

It leaves us with the escort entries on Chris, formerly of Detroit, formerly of Orlando, now I think he’s back in Detroit.

This means genius-in-muscles actually thought I was a bottom who was going to fuck him.

I didn’t fuck him because he wanted a pass. And who am I to rape the unwilling (and someone who’s six-f00t-six and got enough muscles to break me in half).

Truth be told, I got this beautiful, muscular Hispanic man with a gorgeous ass who came preloaded with two other loads that gave his ass this tangy taste!

But that’s another story.

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Get Fucking Sleazy in Atlanta…

Where all the cum is in Atlanta
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When people visit Atlanta — or even those who live here — I’ll get an e-mail asking about getting cum. When can I get it? Where is best tonight? How can I get the most cum in my ass? Where’s the ass?

It’s always difficult to say when and where to give and get it in Atlanta. This town is about as fickle as a dill pickle. However, I did sit down and tried to capture it in a chart (that you can see above). If the place is open, it’s got color. If it’s closed (or closing down), it’s black. If I know it to be full of cum, you’ll see it cum white.

I’ve also created a new page, added to my Sleazy Guide to Atlanta Opens a new window from this blog. The Where to Find Cum When in Atlanta Opens a new window from this blog includes the chart but also offers some advice including a weekend suggestion of how a bottom can get the most loads. Of course, if you’re a bottom coming into town, let me know Opens a new window from this blog and I can help make any additional suggestions and might add to the mix you get.

I’ve also added the known fuck hotels and hook-up clubs to the Sleazy Atlanta Guide.

All in service of the cum freaks out there.

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Behind Dead Eyes… A Return to Breed a Third Load

The Hottest Man
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The text message appeared: “I’m horny.”

Let’s admit that I did like the bottom in my entries from Behind Dead Eyes Opens a new window from this blog. Perhaps that creeped him out a little or the fact he never liked that I implied he had “dead eyes.” Instead, it’s a metaphor for the protective wall he builds around himself and that inner being.

After our time of debauchery at the bookstore Opens a new window from this blog, we’d texted a bit but not met up again.

“I am too,” I responded.

“I want cum,” he wrote.

“I’ll give you some,” I typed back.

As it turned out, I was downtown and would be glad to hit the bookstore yet again. A few more of his coy questions and my to-the-bone answers.

I had an appointment but once it was over, I wanted to fuck him. That was the only reason to drive over and pay the $11 admission. Once I admitted to having my good poppers Opens a new window from this blog, I got the green light. I made a left instead of a right and headed toward one of the best asses ever.

And I mean best asses.

It’s usual for me to really look forward to seeing someone. I’ll admit my crush on this boy. There’s chemistry there, even if he can’t admit there’s any. And we fuck well.

I arrived, whipping into a parking place. I plunged into the darkness and throbbing environment of sexual scents, Pine Sol and satellite radio.

He stood along the edge of one of the banks of booths on the basement floor, not far from the entrance. Approaching him, he spoke under his breath, “You have to act like you don’t know me.”

My anticipation fluttered a little. I missed a beat, but I recovered and made the walk upstairs to the rooms.

Within moments, he joined me.

He wore a strange combination of a stretched out tank under a button down. This flashback to the Flash Dance 1980s look seemed strange to me since I recalled the original look. Here I am in jeans and a t-shirt and he appeared so perfectly coiffed. He walked past me into a room. I followed.

He started removing his clothing immediately and I did the same, inquiring whether I should lock the door. He shrugged, a hallmark of his usual indecision. But I didn’t care.

He stripped completely naked and went to sucking my cock, getting it hard. His oral skills undeniably good. Then he crouched on the mattress, ass in the air.

As I did before, I went in for food. I ate his ass, spreading my meal wide. Oh how delicious his hole proved to be. So good! I’ve ate many asses in my day. His just perfection, just lovely, just nice. The soft hairs never wiry and adding to the opening up, never detracting from the effort to open the hole.

With a little more spit as I pushed my tongue into his pucker and deep pink, I stood and began to push my cock into him.

I’d handed him the poppers earlier and he’d been sniffing them already, but now he really snorted them as my seven inches invaded his interior.

Oh my fucking God, how his ass was so damn tight and molded perfectly around my cock. In a way, it felt as if I was pushing my cock into clay.

He moaned. I pushed. I’d pull back a little and push farther in.

Soon, I made it all the way.

I looked down to see this almost perfect hourglass shape. His smooth body. His back and upper chest wide, his waist going smaller and then that ass, the widest of all. Not fat, but perfect. And as I plunged inside it, just wonderful.

And in a way, I just hit paydirt.

Pumping in him deep once, I felt something. Oh so warm. Oh. This was a new sensation. Like I’d popped through to a new place, this warmth began to trickle down past my cockhead and tickle my balls, some dripping off and some running down my legs.

I inquired to be sure and disappointingly discovered I was the first to be fucking his ass, so all I felt was water. Knowing this bottom’s routine, I knew it was clean and nothing to worry about. No scents or anything other than the unusual sensation that enthused me a little. If only I’d been squishing around a little extra cum as well.

The door to the room opened. I’d not locked in.

In walked an older white man and not at all attractive followed by an older African American who turned out to be a little fat. I didn’t mind the audience. He urged me on, wanting to eat the cum out of the bottom’s ass after I was done.

As I fucked more, the little trickle of water turned more into a gush of water and I really enjoyed that sensation of warm water along my balls that now cooled in the air. I borrowed the poppers and took a sniff.

I fucked harder. More gusto.

“You want my load?”

“Give it to me!” he said. “Give me your load.”

The trolls agreed.

And I went into a place where my cock and the bottom’s ass  just existed together. The water now emptied out, I replaced it with my flood into his guts with my cum. I throbbed. I buried to the hilt and stood still, letting my cock deposit all my seed into his ass. I pushed it in as deep as I could and then pulled it out as his ass sealed up behind my extracting rod.

My bottom friend objected to the trolls even touching him and we kicked them out, now the festivities were over. And he turned horrified at the splattered water on the mattress, not to mention me. Even with my promise that I enjoyed it, he just couldn’t believe how much came out.

I kissed him for the first time as he began putting on his clothes. Oh, how well he kissed.

“I’ll see you later,” I said.

“You’re leaving?”

“I came here just to fuck you,” I replied.

“Really?”

“Really,” I said. “Take care.”

And I left.

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Tweak, Tweak… The Mating Call of Tina’s Friend

Hot Guy, or he was... before Tina became his best friend.
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Thursday I am horny and frustrated. This is a combination that, for me, is not good. I’m in one of those moods where I want to fuck anything that gets in my way. I’m on the look out for a sure thing.

When it finally arrives, it’s someone I recognize. He’s an extremely muscular massage therapist who provides not too bad bodywork. Where he’s located isn’t the most convenient. But he has a great body and this time he just wants to get fucked.

Allow me to be more specific. He had a great body.

The photos he sends are from a year back from when I last saw him. I’ll explain.

Our exchange Opens a new window from this blog on how to get to his place is brief and he says to come right in — not to even knock. I let him know I’m 20 minutes away. And right at 20 minutes, I’m at his door, pushing. It’s locked. I knock.

Shuffling begins inside.

“Wait up guy,” I hear. “Got to let the dogs out.”

In a few seconds, the door opens and it’s not dogs I see.

It’s three men. Just beyond the jocked muscle guy I’m expecting is a beefy bearish guy pulling up his pants, putting on a baseball cap and exiting out the door behind me. The second is a short, dorky, tattooed guy who sort of looks like Ian on Big Brother season 14. And he’s just in a pair of boxers.

I’m confused.

Then muscleman and I are alone as “Ian” is in the bedroom and the bear is gone out the door.

Muscleman has been on a diet. A radical one. He’s lost at least 50 pounds. I whip out my cock, not thinking too much, and slide it inside him. I’d been anticipating fucking him. His ass is slick already with cum. If bear had finished up, maybe muscleman was sucking him clean. Don’t know. Don’t care.

We’re fucking on his massage table and, let’s just say, it’s not working out. I can’t enter him deeply enough. He’s thinner but fuck if his asshole just isn’t positioned correctly.

And something is off about him. Something just isn’t right. This isn’t like the last time. Of course, the fuck occurred after a good rubdown, but I’m not getting something. He’s face down, of course. My suspicious rise.

I climb off about to leave when he’s up and on his knees, his mouth wrapped around my cock. It’s like he knows something is up. And I’ll admit, his sucking is primo. He even goes for my balls.

I finally decide I need to cum. If I go home in this condition, someone will get hurt until I can bust a load.

“Is anyone else coming over?” I ask.

“Nope,” he says between sucks.

I pull off my clothes.

He gets the signal.

“We need a bed,” he says.

And then we walk into the room where “Ian” is laying on half of the bed.

Now I hesitate, but he motions me in. “Ian” barely looks up as muscleman lays on the other half of the bed, ass up. This room is brightly lit, compared to the living room, which was dark.

I shrug. I’m naked, in an apartment, with a hardon and precum leaking out of my cock. I’m wondering if this is the beginning of a three-way.

Um… it turns out… no, it wasn’t.

Although “Ian” has removed his boxers and is laying on the bed naked with a softy, he spends the entire time texting. I crawl on muscleman. And through our fuck, I notice the signs. The fidgeting. And he’s at least a little smart about another thing. Since I’m flat on top of him, wherever my head is, he turns his head away to prevent noticing he’s chewing gum — an attempt not to grind his teeth.

His weight loss and all the symptoms point to Tina.

Fuck.

So my hard dick is up this tight, warm chute that’s preloaded and, despite the weight loss, he’s still got a good body. I wish “Ian” would get off his fucking phone and play with my balls but that’s not going to happen. And I’m frustrated and horny.

I fucking hate tweakers Opens a new window from this blog. Actually, I don’t hate them. I hate the kind of person who results from using too much Crystal Meth. But I still fuck them. I even had this severe crush on a guy a few years ago who had an addiction but he moved to Minneapolis. I fucked him plenty but actually wanted a real date and wanted to get to know him. He refused all my advances. But when he was high, he’d let me fuck him. And I’d let it happen.

I revised that policy with another man I met locally who wanted me to fuck him before going off to rehab. I didn’t. There are some bottoms I want to crave me when they’re wholly cognizant of what’s going on.

But at this moment, the dick is winning. There’s a little conflict in my head, but I know how to shut that up.

I snort some poppers.

The conflict ends and like a laser, my pleasure center kicks in to focus exclusively on my cock and how it feels inside that tight, cummy hole.

“You want my cum?”

“Yes please,” he says. “Please breed my ass.”

That’s all it takes. Soon I’m letting loose a torrent of DNA inside his ass.

After a moment of recover, I’m off and putting on my clothes.

“Ian” doesn’t seem to notice. Muscleman offers me water and invites me back anytime.

I’m being nice, but I won’t come back. This is one mating call I’ll ignore.

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Go Go Go… Well, I Went to BJ Roosters

BJ Roosters "Dog Pen" VIP area for Male Strippers Lap Dance
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Ventured out this week to Atlanta’s go-go boy dancer bar, BJ Roosters. It’s my first time to check the place out. The review is now posted Opens a new window from this blog.

three-and-a-half-stars out of five rating

The bar ended up earning 3½ stars, loosing points for it’s extremely smoky (and not ventilated) interior, the sleazy and not-very-clean interior (especially the bathrooms) and a general poor space planning. On the plus side, the bar lacks the stuck up attitude of the only in-town competition of Swinging Richards, dancers are just as good looking and much more relaxed without the fear of fines and the overbearing thought/action police at the fully nude bar, the dancer diversity is greater for much more selection and it can be a little more fun.

Comparisons between the two places is inevitable. Both places have basically the same dancers, in fact. But BJ Roosters will take in a more diverse selection for people like me who enjoy the more exotic choices.

With the club’s move to a larger space rumored, I’m inclined especially to go back once my lungs recovered, especially since I don’t have to wait as long for my wallet to recover.

Again, don’t miss the review!

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