All posts tagged 1980s

What About the Children?

What About the Youth of Today and Their Opinions on Bareback? FUCK EM!
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Every time some political football enters the arena — the national debt, gun control, Medicare, climate change, healthcare or whatever the issue happens to be — and one side runs out of arguments, there’s this moment when the pundit tilts his head to one side, gets this misty-eyed reflection and might even choke up a little. And then he or she says something about how this issue will ruin the lives of our children, the next generation, our children’s children or some crap like that.

It’s bullshit. But it’s a reflexive moment where everyone, whether you’ve got children or not, that our instinctual survival-of-the-species part of the monkey-brain kicks in and we collectively think something needs to be done.

Why do you think we all find babies and even the youngest of other species so adorably cute and cuddly? Puppies and kittens? Baby seals?

This is instinct telling us to take care and protect our young.

Now that I’ve explained it, let’s talk a little about the recent attacks on the Bareback Brotherhood Link Opens in a New Window, my fellow bareback bloggers, bareback hookup sites like BarebackRT.com Link Opens in a New Window, our family of pornographers and, more particularly, me.

The Sudden Focus of World AIDS Day

Over the past few years, I’ve come to expect it around December 1, World AIDS Day. Funny how one day prompts some assholes who ignore a class of people living with HIV and AIDS for a whole year but become indignant when they discover bareback sex and groups like the BBBH. One particular person who bugchased Link Opens in a New Window successfully and documented it received some particularly violent threats this year, including details on how they’d like to kill him.

It’s not technically irony (Alanis  Morissette ruined that for all of us), but the condom Nazis Link Opens in a New Window who want to wrap the world in plastic so no one dies of AIDS wants to kill someone for getting AIDS. Just weird.

Once I’d engage these hypocrites who ignore all the other ways our people are dying Opens a new window from this blog, who don’t give a shit that the Gay culture of steroid-muscled youth is built around smoke-filled bars serving alcohol with gun-toting drug dealers selling crystal meth (or “Tina”), ecstasy (or “Molly”), and cocaine.

Where’s your righteous indignation there?

But I don’t. I ignore the attacks nowadays. I delete the anonymous posts to my site wishing I would die or suggesting ways they would kill me. This very website fends off multiple cyber-attacks every second Opens a new window from this blog.

I refused to acknowledge or even link to the clever posts who have all of 200 followers on Twitter Link Opens in a New Window but figure out how to search for my brothers in cum and suggest others block them.

Twitter People to Block If You’re One of Those Self-Righteous, Plastic-Loving Pricks

I’ve been kind enough to compile the list myself. On Twitter alone, I’ve got six barebacker lists with confirmed men all over the world who love to fuck raw:
Blue Bullet One Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet Two Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet Three Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet Four Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet Five Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet Six Link Opens in a New Window

I’ve listed all the Bareback Brotherhood members in four lists:
Blue Bullet One Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet Two Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet Three Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet 
Four Link Opens in a New Window

You’ll also want to check out my fellow co-founders of the BBBH to see their lists.
Blue Bullet @ch4suk Link Opens in a New Window
Blue Bullet @gapozathens Link Opens in a New Window

That should cover all the so-called evil (but very enlightened and sexy) people online you need to block.

There’s even barebackers who somehow misinterpret the basics of the Bareback Brotherhood with strange, concocted vendettas out for me.

Hiding Behind ‘the Children’

Like some final bastion of refuge, the truth is arguing that safer sex is the only sex doesn’t work. The fear that came with AIDS/HIV of the 1980s and 1990s simply doesn’t work. HIV/AIDS is now defined by the medical community as a chronic condition Link Opens in a New Window, like “arthritis, asthma, cancer, COPD [and] diabetes.” It’s like living under the constant “orange” threat after 9/11.

The argument goes that we older folks are influencing younger people in their late teens and early twenties to accept bareback sex as normal and natural. Our “influence” is causing these youths to engage in so-called “unsafe” activity.

No, it’s causing them to act natural.

The most unnatural thing is to stick a piece of plastic on your cock in order to have an intimate act.

It’s not influenced by barebackers.

These assholes have the same kind of sense that we’re converting young men into barebackers the same way the homophobic think the Gays are converting youth into homosexuals.

It’s just ludicrous.

Talk to one. He will tell you about the love for the cum in his ass or dumping a load in a bare ass. It’s nothing to do with influence. It’s a natural appeal to do what comes naturally.

I’m Not Changing Anyone’s Mind

I know I’m not. I know I could never have a reasonable conversation with one of these jackoffs. I also know people who’ve been reading my site about stealthing Opens a new window from this blog and bugchasers Opens a new window from this blog and barebacking are misinterpreting the basics.

I can’t change a mind.

But what I do know is I appreciate the attention.

My readers are higher than ever, especially since some female porn slut thinks she’s got the upper hand on me and she can bareback all the guys she wants but men fucking raw is naughty, naughty.

Well, put me on Santa’s naughty list, take the saddle off the reindeer and let’s ride raw.

Fuck the children! I mean the LEGAL children of age, of course. No stocking for me.

 

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The Lies Men Tell… Photos (Part 2)

the lies men tell
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Read Part One

Whether it’s a decade old photo or the time of our meeting, lying is the constant in the world of fucking. I have honed my own skills at determining who will be truthful and who will not.

For example, the veracity of photos provided by someone can be found in the details. A mole is here in this photo, can it be found there? Or does this photo include a Rubik’s cube and a cassette tape player in the background, indicating it’s clearly from the 1980s? Are the photos from a sequence (leading to further suspicion) or from different times and places? Do they look candid or professional?

Lately, the photo thing had struck a chord with me. I think the proliferation of Grindr, Scruff and other such sprouted more camera mavens insisting on evidence of legitimacy. One face pic is no longer adequate. I must provide multiples. Same with cock pics. Even more, to prove my prowess with fucking, I’ve been asked for video.

Not kidding.

Yes, more than once of late, people have insisted on video proof that I’m worth driving five miles for a fuck. I imagine soon I will need to begin to record myself throwing a few into an ass before anyone will believe I’m good at it.

Believe me, I have heard all the possible excuses on why some poor fucker doesn’t have a photo. No excuse. No more. If you’ve got a cell phone that doesn’t make photo, you’re a fucking idiot. Camera phone save lives and document moments that will forever be discussed on CNN. Your computer did not crash and destroy all your photos. And you can pretend you’re at work and have no photos there, but if so, what-the-fuck are you doing on Manhunt.net at that same company? Please. You’re just some self-hating fag.

Moreover, everyone in the photo trade had been burned one time too many. Some asswipe’s stiffed us and not sent us a pic, left us holding the bag and we, in turn, feel foolish for trusting. But that does not mean now you have the right to always go last in the trade.

All things equal, he who asks first, send first. No exceptions. If someone has posted an ad on Craigslist with a self-photo, that counts as a “sent photo.”

Otherwise, the bottom should send first. I don’t give a fuck if the bottom is 19 years old and hot as hell (or at least says he is).

  • If you unlock without any previous conversation, I’m under no obligation to unlock for you, even if you ask nicely. The whole unlock trade occurs with conversation, not independently.
  • If you show X-rated photos in your profile photos and then “unlock” photos, those unlocked ones should have a clearly available face pic. Else, I’m not obliged to unlock mine. If I unlocked mine first, you should e-mail me a clear face pic. Vice versa as well. If you show face, your locked pics should clearly show cock and/or ass.
  • The only time you have a right to “break the code” and not trade photos is when someone has egregiously lied. This means the following: A 20-year difference in age, a different race or completely different appearance. Otherwise, if you get a pic, you must respond with a pic. You’re welcome to tell the guy you’re not into him.
  • What you send is what you get. If you send me a tiny photo where you can’t see shit, I have the right to send you back a tiny photo where you can’t see shit. If your photo is blurry and you’re wearing sunglasses, I’m welcome to do the same.
  • Just because we both unlock photos does not mean we are meeting for a fuck. I believe in being fair. But my unlock doesn’t mean I’m suddenly into you.

I do study photos (as has been proven) and I can recognize when people lie. And most do lie.

On to Part Three, Test Results

I’ll have the double rice

surfer
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California offers many pleasures but for me, it happens to be a larger percentage of Asians among the fuckable population. I’ve always had an affinity for Asians and, despite whatever your impression might be, Asians offer a kaleidoscopic among themselves, as I’ve found out.

On my most recent trip, I scooted south to the Los Angeles megaplex — quite a different vibe than Northern California where I’ve been frequenting of late. Moreover, I was in town for a lovely, lovely tradeshow.

If in your career, you’ve never had the esteemed pleasure of working a tradeshow, then you’ve missed experiencing what I am certain would become a modern ring of hell if Dante were alive to write about it today. A bunch of people gather in a space to set temporary campgrounds of marketing marvels and give away shit to others forced to visit because their bosses were too lazy to go.

Oh, and you smile a lot. And act interested.

I think local homes drop off Alzheimer’s patients as a stimulating experience for them. We have to be nice in our booths because we are hoping for prospective customers to stop by.

Anyway, it’s in this setting where my first gentleman caller pops up.

His body, as you can see, is perfection. His nipples just divine. Smooth. Gorgeous. I cannot say enough about how amazing he was. Then again, perfection does tend to agree with one at 21 years old.

To get over the initial awkwardness, he suggested giving me a backrub — how 1980s porn, I know — but it worked and soon he was stroking and sucking my cock. I returned the favor, literally licking every spot on his body. The natural smoothness extended to the pucker around his hole.

I ate him out. I ate deep. I went for it. I got that asshole ready for my cock.

As I slid up along his back, I began to rub my hardness in that crack trying to find the wet hole. He teased me a bit. Just as he’d been teasing me with a possible kiss that never happened. His long, jet black, straight hair constantly tossed to the side as he stared at me but a kiss would never quite come. Oh, he’d suck my cock, but no kissing.

Fine but what ever. I now wanted to fuck.

And away he pulls, right out from under me. Off across the room to find his pants. FUCK.

Despite the implication that I wanted to “fill” his hole, he brought a damn condom. Indeed. And he put it on me. Lubed it up with his own product and then sat on my cock.

Luckily, with a body like his, I could stay hard enough to keep it going. We fucked but I just have to say we were going through the motions when he finally suggested he get on his back.

BINGO.

His muscular, almost hairless legs up and blocking his view allowed me to begin pumping his ass. He never once reached to check the status of the condom and he began asking for me to be sure to shoot my load all over his chest.

No problem, I told him.

I slipped the condom off between strokes and left it on the ledge of the bed.

Finally inside his fully lubed Asian ass and I could feel his loose, already amazing ass around my cock. He blabbed on about wanting my cum on his chest when I took my hit of poppers, already in ecstasy thanks to those first moments of barebacking.

Of course the poppers pushed me over the edge.

I began to pick up pace and really let him have it. He was intensely enjoying it.

“Yea, you want my cum?” I asked.

“Yea man!” he said. “All over me!”

“Just tell me you want my cum,” I demanded.

“I want your cum!” I responded.

I began to shoot in his ass, the first two jets I made sure were deep in him before I pulled out and shot another on his ass and the nearby condom and then finally, mocking that I was having trouble with the condom, the last couple of smaller ones into his dark pubes. But he didn’t care as he had been in the throws of his own orgasm, shooting sprays across that perfect chest.

How I wanted to lick it up but after all, we were “safe.”

Next…

A couple of evenings later would be my last night in town and I’d been searching for another bit of fun — not necessarily Asian. However, my appetite turned out to be unsatisfied when he messaged me.

Now I’m not one to turn down another Asian, especially with this ethnic flair. I’d never sampled a Vietnamese. And to assure we didn’t have a repeat of the last time, I made it perfectly clear that I would be breeding his ass. Part of our exchange, in fact, follows:

ME: Raw or wrapped?

HIM: never done bb before..u? im clean and neg..no drug

ME: BB only here. Clean and neg. No drug.

HIM: cool. if serious, drop me your cell..

After the usual cell texting, the five-foot-four cutie showed up at my hotel room. This boy kissed and sucked cock like a pro. His oral skills left the other guy in the dust.

When I made it to his ass, well, where the other Asian had muscles, this 24-year-old had mounds of beautiful flesh that I ate like I’ve not eaten in years.

And when I slid up and my cock found his crevice, his hole opened up and soon I was sliding into him.

He might not have ever barebacked before but I know he’d thought of it. He’d wanted it. He begged for my cock and soon started on my cum without my prompting.

I let him ride me for a while before finally putting him on his stomach. My 6-foot-3 and 210-pound frame made his disappear into the bed. I totally dominated him.

And I made him beg me for my load.

I finally did unload and pushed it deep into his ass. I kept my cock inside him until I softened up and let it fall out.

His first bareback load made him a little clingy. I think he thought it was an invitation to stay but I had to kick him out. Nonetheless, it proved to be quite an event. Two Asian asses in just a few days.

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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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Q&A: Going Raw

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Q. When did you decide to go raw?
@CUBnATL

A. My first fucks were raw (and were in the early 1980s). Throughout my sexual history, I always fucked raw, both within relationships and through occasional “slip ups” while single. I never liked condoms. Does anyone really?

As I left one relationship and the whole condom thing started up again, I really started to hate them. Funny thing, I discovered the bottoms really didn’t want them either. Either the men were fucking stupid (which remains a distinct possibility) or they wanted to bareback as well. The “Deceptively Fun” series on my blog got inspired by the men I found more challenging to bareback starting in 2003.

The first few sentences of the series begins: “Don’t know when I stopped caring, but I don’t. It’s all about the fuck. It’s all about feeling good. And I don’t fucking care any other way.” (You can read the first entry at http://iblastinside.blogspot.com/2009/09/deceptively-fun-1.html.)

At the time, that statement proved accurate. From mid- to late 2003, my longest long-term relationship had ended (fucker). He actually was dating two guys (he had a polyamorous thing going before ending it with me), a week later I was laid off, and a week after that, I was in a car accident. So I’d had some fucking shit go down in my life.

The last thing I needed was a layer of plastic between me and the man I fucked.

Beyond that, I’d trusted all the bullshit about monogamy — not because I wanted it. My ex had begged for it. He’d never cheat on me. Honest-Injun. The things we do for love.

That relationship’s ending proved to be pivotal to me and while we did make another attempt, I never really gave it another go. I did, however, learn that life occurs only once. I’d given an asshole the best years of my life — 28 to 36 — and I’d never get those prime fucking years back. Future fucking would be for my pleasure.

I stretched my bareback wings and from there, I’ve never really looked back. My slip-ups now occasionally mean I use a condom. If I ever use one, I will find a way to get it off and breed.

Ask anything. I’ll answer.