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Official Endorsement: DeepHole4Loads in DC

deephole4loads
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broken-virginity-seal-of-approvalThe latest addition to my very small list of “Broken Virginity Seal of Approval” is officially DeepHole4Loads.

After my initial encounter which I wrote about this Velvet Vice, I got another opportunity to breed this remarkable bottom.

It’s rare for words to fail me.

There’s conflicting evidence if you search for it on the web, but some sources indicate there’s more than 4,000 nerve endings in the male penis (scientists are still figuring out what each does).

Truth is, however hundreds or thousands there are, this bottom has an ass that can overwhelm every single one.

As I fucked him the second time with five loads already deep in his ass, his hole felt honestly fresh. His sinewy muscles moved deftly under my touch and he knew exactly which way I wanted to go. I never had to do more than slightly move one direction or another before he anticipated my need and responded.

His intuition was on point and ready.

When I fucked his ass deeply with my cock, the smoothness of his hole glided open and closed around my rock hard cock… no matter the pace of my fuck. Hard or soft, easy or rough.

And he kept his ass positioned ready for me. He didn’t back up or try to derive more pleasure from me. He knew it was about giving me pleasure. So he focused on what would bring me easily to another massive load in his hole.

I did. I buried a huge fucking load in his ass.

My cock throbbed for an eternity and his pulse quickened, enjoying the feel of my sperm splattering the insides and mixing with the other men’s juice already deep in his guts.

Later, I would get a message from another top on BarebackRT.com how he breeds DeepHole4Loads regularly. After a little exchange, I’d churned up his load among the five in his guts.

When two tops agree a hole is great, it’s great.

I’ve bred him twice. I would breed him again. And that’s unusual for me. I’m a hit-it-and-quit-it sort of top.

This is an ass I’d never quit.

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Time for Some Fresh Fucks in 2014

2013-2014
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Around this time of year, I review my top fucks for 2013 and head toward 2014. But not this year.

While 2013 did contain some good ass worth recalling (like Chris the escort who seems to be all over the place these days, a hot Indy bottom, a Baltimore hottie, along with one or two others), it was not a banner year for me and breeding.

In fact, I’d consider myself a bit off my game.

All totaled up for 2013, I made 213 deposits, 31 stealths and actually took 11 in my own ass.

Yes, I’ve been bottoming.

A top must never be complacent in his skill set. Being open to the possibilities is a must. Normally these topping sessions occur in conjunction with a massage session, where a therapist takes the time to relax me and allow me to open up, so to speak.

But a couple of times, it’s just been a beautiful cock and I really didn’t feel like sucking it until it came. And it seemed like such a waste to let it go someplace else when I had a perfectly good ass I could back up to the gloryhole.

Into 2014

Like 2013, I will be traveling extensively and hoping for new asses to breed. Don’t worry, I’m not going bottom on anyone. But I’ll probably supplement my load counts with loads in my ass with the truly versatiles out there — not that there are many available.

I’d like to see my numbers grow this year, although let’s face it — I’m no spring chicken. At 46, a lot of the younger bucks run away and the old farts (like me) are chasing young bucks.

What’s your #LoadCount? Tweet me st @iblastinside or comment here.

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The #BBBH Belongs to No One

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Some of you don’t give a shit about this internal raging debate. I wish I didn’t need to write this posting.

The Bareback Brotherhood is a movement formed out of the necessity of confusion. What does it mean to be a barebacker? Can one be a serosorting, monogamous-only cum-hound? Or does being a barebacker mean bug-chasing, stealth-advocating, anonymous fuckers only?

The answer is yes. And no.

To bareback means both, all of the above and none of it. Whatever one thinks about barebacking, you’ve limited yourself.

When we formed the Bareback Brotherhood and I coined the hashtag #BBBH and phrase, we did so with the understanding that it was for the freedom of that very sense of what it means to be a barebacker. For far too long, the safe sex Nazis had defined fucking as a plastic barrier between men.

We needed to remove the barrier and show that men could choose another path. That choice was one that men could make. It says so on our website: “We agree on one thing — sex between men without barriers is natural and a legitimate choice. As consenting adults, skin-to-skin intimacy should be a choice that is not demonized or marginalized.”

The Attacks of RawTop

RawTop runs the website BreedingZone.com, which has carried an RSS feed of my blog and many other bareback bloggers. If you visit BreedingZone or RawTop’s blog, one is bombarded with porn advertisements, which he says are a convenience.

On Sunday, RawTop e-mailed me and told me he’d purchased BBBH.com and planned to build a hook-up website to compete with BarebackRT.com. In exchange for my (and other BBBH cofounders endorsement), we’d get free “recognition and enhanced memberships” on the site along with t-shirts.

I entertained the notion. I’ve made no secret that the cyber attacks have continued on this and the BBBH website has cost me time and money I  simply do not have.

At the same time, though, RawTop posted on BreedingZone that I’m “so focused on stealthing” that it’s tainted the BBBH brand. He told me he’d need to write very clearly on his hook-up site that stealthing it was a position he did not advocate, he didn’t like and that he would separate himself and the “brand” from me.

While I couldn’t give a shit about what RawTop thinks about me, what I didn’t like was how he would take the #BBBH and begin to define it.

In other words, RawTop would begin to restrict what it meant to be in the #BBBH movement. Despite his own BreedingZone includes strings of conversation in “The Backroom” for gift-giving and bug-chasing that includes a lot of stealthing content.

Some Barebackers Will Not Be Welcome at BBBH.com

Would RawTop prevent bug-chasers or gift-givers fr0m joining? The answer is yes.

I suggested that RawTop turn BreedingZone.com into a hook-up site rather than attempting to take over the #BBBH brand.

He wrote me: “All the bug chasing discussion on Breeding Zone turns off a lot of people. It’s a bit tainted in that way – too many people don’t want to be associated with bug chasing so Breeding Zone can’t effectively be turned into a hookup site.”

In other words, if you advocate certain positions, you will not be welcomed at BBBH.com.

That directly opposes the founding principals of the #BBBH.

It is for this reason I cannot advocate, endorse and, in fact, I must oppose the development of this website. The #BBBH is all encompassing when it comes to skin-to-skin contact.

What next? No Poz barebackers allowed? Would one be required to submit proof of one’s status on the new and improved BBBH.com to have an enhanced profile? Maybe only neg guys could see other neg guys?

Perhaps RawTop could connect directly with local labs and get a CD4 and viral load count so Undetectables won’t mix with Poz. Maybe we’ll check your meds.

RawTop Wants Your Money

“To be clear – I make my money off the bareback community,” he wrote me.

To be clear, I don’t make any money off the bareback community. If you’ve logged onto BBBH.me, you’ll notice I’ve got a complete hands-off approach. I also don’t write about stealthing there. There’s no ads there.

The Bareback Brotherhood is one without restrictions, without plastic, without barriers. And RawTop is putting them in place. He is saying that certain people will not be welcomed on his new site, although I imagine his greed will eventually allow him to accept the funds from them before he kicks them to the curb.

The #BBBH Cannot Belong to Him

As I explained to RawTop, BBBH is a movement like Occupy Wall Street. It has custodians, sure. We are here to make sure no one profits from the movement.

A porn company recently contacted me, asking if they could do a video named #BBBH. I explained to the producers, each of them could be members of the #BBBH, as could the actors. We’d welcome that. But a video of that name would prove limiting to the ideals for which the Brotherhood stands.

The producers respected that and did not name the video.

This is just one example of many to set a precedence that the #BBBH cannot become the solely owned hook-up domain of RawTop.

I Did Not Want This

This is where I supposedly “threatened” a lawsuit. I just suggested that he might do better to invest in a different effort, not taking the brand built by so many brothers using our hashtag.

RawTop moved this debate into the public forum. I didn’t. I do not relish this battle. No one wins when the bareback community battles. Just because I don’t want the #BBBH to back a commercial venture against BarebackRT.com seems bizarre.

I can hope that RawTop steps back and thinks carefully about his impact on the overall community rather than how to line his pockets with more.

As he said, “To be clear – I make my money off the bareback community.”

To be clear, I don’t.

What do you think about this?

  • iBLASTinside is right (580%, 29 Votes)
  • #BBBH is for all (160%, 8 Votes)
  • Barebacking is wrong (100%, 5 Votes)
  • Who the fuck cares? (60%, 3 Votes)
  • RawTop is right (0%, 2 Votes)

Total Voters: 5

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#CloseGhosts and My Recent Travels

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You can’t see them. You can’t touch them. You just knew that one moment they were there and the next, they were gone. Is it a mystery? Some phenomenon worthy of Bigfoot, the Bermuda Triangle and what pills Paula Abdul takes before going on air?

Probably not.

I call them #CloseGhosts. And I’ve recently had close encounters of the plentiful kind them on recent travels.

With the conviction of a serial killer who proclaims his innocence, these lovely bottoms in far away cities and town lurk upon websites (like BarebackRT.com or this blog), Twitter or other online hook-up destinations, assuring traveling a top when he arrives in their town, city or other geographic region that an ass will be ready to fuck at his demand.

Alas, a phenomenon occurs when that top arrives and is in close proximity to the bottom. The cum dump vanishes into thin air, often with some wispy excuse similar to “the dog ate my homework” or “the check is in the mail.”

Case #1: London Twitter Twink & the Quickening

london-postcardWe all know that London is notoriously known for all the ghosts that wander its streets and waterways, its old buildings and strange little alleys. However, having had men upon men beg me for my load for years, I figured one might be legit among them.

My BBRT exploded. I had more than 300 messages at one time and maintaining control of it via my iPhone came close to impossible. One gentleman who seemed legit got pissy because I’d not responded to him immediately upon arrival in town, so he crossed himself off the list. The rest where the normal lot. I waded through them all, trying to invite someone over for a breeding to my centrally located hotel near the West End, not far from Trafalgar Square.

Too far. Apparently, Londoners go to bed early on Bank Holidays and weren’t interested as I attempted to find someone to fuck about 21:00 to 22:00 (that’s 9 p.m. to 10 p.m. for us bloody Americans).

Then a tweet came in from a twink. How’s London, he asked. I replied. It became a conversation of sorts that moved to direct messages and a bit more privacy when I mentioned my trip would be so much better if I had an ass to breed.

“I can help you out there,” he said. “I’d love for you to load my ass. Big fan of your blog.”

He asked when I was leaving. Told him this was my last night. I asked where he was. He said, “Covent Gardens.”

Boom. That’s the neighborhood I’m in. I’m over at the… I listed the hotel.

Pause. Double pause.

“Oh, it’s too bad I’m not at home tonight. I’m staying with a friend in the country.”

Poof.

Case #2: The Early Alabama Bird Misses the Juicy Worm

greetings-from-Birmingham-Alabama

I’d started on BBRT with this hottie and turned to text messaging. We were getting ready for some good fun, all planned out in Alabama. I’d let him know that it would be a late arrival for me and he’d told me we’d have “several hours” of play.

I’d even arranged a nice corner room, away from everyone in the hotel, because I had a feeling this fuck might get a bit out of control.

I don’t usually trust bottoms. Bottoms in general are not trustworthy. But I’d grown to trust this one.

I arrived just after 9 p.m. and texted. No response. Another text. No response. Around 9:30, I get a response saying he’d fallen asleep. Then, “he didn’t know I was going to be so late.”

Late? It’s 9:30!

We’d been setting this up for a month.

The shitty little cocktease went on to berate me for almost an hour about being “late.” Of course the little fucker didn’t get off so easily in this from me.

Obviously, he loved the chase, but actually fucking… well, I’m guessing his balls hadn’t quite dropped yet. My timing was never the issue.

POOF

Cases 3 & 4: The Revolutionary Missing Men

Bareback top visiting New HampshireIn this history-rich part of America just north of Boston, finding fuckable asses aren’t easy. I knew this. I planned for it with a backup ass. I found them both and, as it turned out, both claimed to want it.

One said he’d be online on BBRT. Te other asked me to text. My #1 choice, the textable ass, got a text.

We pinged a bit before I asked him to come over.

Pause. He then, for some reason, told me his actual location. In Maine. And invited me over.

Baffled, I asked what was up.

“I don’t have a car,” was his response.

Now it wasn’t as if both of us were in downtown Boston. This little hottie claimed in the middle of bumfuck Maine, he had no transportation, after knowing I was visiting from out of town.

WTF and POOF

Back-up plan into action. Logged onto BBRT. Sure enough, he was there. Message. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait longer. And more. I’m tired. Just go to fucking bed.

POOF.

This ghost responded when I was no longer close, in Boston, about to fly home.

Just the Four?

No. I have so many more stories. But these are the four most recent. I did debate divulging Twitter names, BBRT handles showing a photo or two, but I’m going to leave it alone. After all, these #CloseGhosts could be #Catfish for all I know.

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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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