Tag Archives: asking

Stealthing, Stealth, Stealth Fucking

Q&A: Just Pozzed Out and My Viral Load Is High. Should I Continue to Stealth?

Occasionally, I get e-mails from my readers asking questions. With permission, I answer them here.

 

QuestionI love your blog and your stories. I’m a versatile and sometimes get fucked and sometimes do the fucking. I since I’ve hit 30, I just really couldn’t stand using the condoms any more. But some guys insisted.

Then I found your blog. And read all about the whole stealth thing.

I get your point. You wrote about it as a warning to guys but you know, a lot of people are dumb and all. I had to get the cum in my ass and I needed to breed too. I made lots of condoms with pinprick holes. I always had condoms on me. Fuck, I even had friends ask me and I gave them away. I’ve left them around sleazy gay bars.

I finally got a poz test, which doesn’t bother me at all. Barebacking is a hotter experience now. Now I really think I’m breeding a guy and it’s taking hold.

My viral load is high. Man, I’m toxic, with millions swimming in me. I’m trying to decide if I want to go on meds or just continue to fuck my way through the world for a while.

But I’m having second thoughts about stealthing or slipping one of my special condoms on a top fucking me.

What would you do?

 

AThe question is where you meet these potential fucks.

There’s this hideous gasp among some fags that an anonymous hook-up should be an honest exchange of information and despite the numerous dishonest exchange about age, weight, etc. prior to someone’s dick going in someone else’s mouth, it’s some sort of cardinal sin if a condom isn’t used.

Never mind how we kill ourselves with crystal meth, smoking and booze.

But those choices are addictions and diseases while bareback fucking is wrong, wrong, wrong!

In my opinion, you should go on meds. Anything to keep more bareback fuckers fucking, I’m in favor. It’s between you and your doctor how aggressive  you want to be with the millions of friends you’ve got swimming around inside you now.

(And for any chasers, let me know who you are and I’ll consider sharing my toxic buddy’s info with you — with his permission — share his with you. You might want to include a pic.)

When I stealth, it’s usually a place like an adult bookstore or sex club. I was just there the other day and the fucking bottom I slipped my cock into pulled me out and insisted I wear a condom.

He didn’t provide one, mind you. I needed one.

I provided one. And he got a nice ride out of it and I got what I wanted. Interestingly enough, he kept checking to see if the condom was on, so I couldn’t rip it off. I didn’t need to do so because the fucker missed the point.

You want to be “safe,” you control the scene.

I brought my own “condoms,”  which in the darkened room he couldn’t see each one lacked the full tip (not just the pinhole prick you use).

Guess what fucker? You were loaded!

Now this little tweaker, who was in a darkroom and never saw me or anyone else who fucked his hole. If I know what goes down in these dastardly places, I also wasn’t the only one to stealth that day.

Let’s discuss the logistics of the whole thing.

The guy I fucked was a slut. And while there’s plenty of DNA evidence in his ass, who’s to say the condom didn’t fail or, despite my words here, he didn’t give me a condom that was broken and I was the one duped. As we both know, that’s a possibility as well.

If you’re inviting men over to your place and fucking them at your house… well, that’s just another story. I’d personally never use the broken condom bit in private one-on-one condom bit.

Spike-ItThat said, I have (on occasion) not honored the request to “pull out” in a timely manner. If the bottom is stupid to let me inside to play, I’m going to finish the game and score the touchdown. Truth is, most of the time they end up begging for it there anyway.

I’d also be a little careful about distributing sabotaged condoms. Anyone to simply pickup free condoms and expect them to work are stupid, but your fingerprints are probably on them and, well, I’d hate for some vengeful faggot to track you down (and in your city, they would).

After all this chatter, let’s boil it down:

Yes, Do…

  • Fuck raw. If the opportunity presents itself, fuck raw.
  • Go on meds. 
  • While you’re toxic, seek out chasers and gift. 
  • Stealth in sleazy places where bareback sex is the norm.
  • Stealth as a bottom.

No, Don’t…

  • Distribute sabotaged condoms anymore anywhere. 
  • Stealth as a top in one-on-one hook-ups

Best of luck and enjoy your new status. And don’t let the Aryan bastards get you down.

 

I love the occasional questions, so please send them along to iblastinside@gmail.com.

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The Plea of ‘Please Fuck Me’

The Plea of ‘Please Fuck Me’

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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Bareback top visiting New Hampshire

Travel Diary: Bottoms Blah Blah Blah

Flakes are universal, along with fakes and catfish Open-New-Window-External. This I know.

But when it comes to superstar flaking out, New Hampshire takes the fucking cake. In fact, my visit to Concord might take the bakery.

Allow me to explain.

I always post future destinations in my travel plans on my BarebackRT.com profile Open-New-Window-External. I notify readers here Open-New-Window-External that I’m visiting. Of course, all this is tweeted Follow on Twitter and ends up on my Facebook Open-New-Window-External.

To enhance it all further, I post on Craigslist an add that looks something like the following:

TOP blogger visiting looking for bottom writing inspiration – m4m (Concord Area)

I’m a blogger who writes about my sexual experiences on the road with bottoms I encounter… My blog is read by thousands every single day, reproduced on several sites and even some entries end up on a famous porn studio’s website.

Perhaps you might like to be the inspiration for a piece when I slide into town next week?

I don’t identify the bottoms I fuck, just write about the experience…

Hit me up with your info — a pic, stats, etc. I’ll respond with my blog details so you can check it out. We’ll go from there.

The site contains a lot of information beyond my fucks. And if you happen to be a top, we can tag team or maybe you’d like to try sitting on my cock… it’s a perfect 7 inches cut.

Thanks!

P.S. The only major requirement (other than bottoming for me) is that you don’t smoke.

From all this, I do get a lot of inquiries. Most of them are lurkers who never intend to meet. This I get. It’s also an opportunity to find new people to read my blog since not all barebackers have found the Bareback Brotherhood or my blog.

With many there’s the “I just fuck safe,” and then more than half switch their story.  But some don’t. Yet, with my blog, it becomes a jerk-off destination for many.

When I do finally arrive, I e-mail the best back to see if they’re still up for that fuck.

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Arriving in Concord

My arrival in Concord allowed me to long in locally to BarebackRT.com, Grindr, Scruff and Manhunt.net, all of which use a geographic tool to notify one who’s closest. I also posted to Craigslist.

Two men of the many interested e-mailed me back saying they were still up for the fuck, but one 4 p.m. pump-and-dump session became a no-show with regrets arriving several hours later because he was “stuck somewhere.”

Flake.

All of my online activity netted me a lot of interest. A lot. I was fresh meat in a town that didn’t see a lot. Of course, I got the usuals…

People just wanting to collect photos, see my cock or face.

I had one prospect on BarebackRT… he was a fucking hot dude in his late twenties… seemed like a good one. But here’s where we begin one issue that baffled me for Concord.

He had no vehicle.

I needed to come to him and pick him up, bring him back to my hotel to fuck and then take him home.

Now please check out the map.

Concord is not a major city. It’s 1½ hours north of Boston. It’s not a walking city. How can you not have a car and survive, especially when you’re not in college?

This turned into a theme of the night. No car. No transportation. My car is in the shop. My car is in the shop due to the storm. I don’t have a car.

By the way, none of these bottoms ever asked where I was staying to see if I happened to be within walking distance.

I don’t guess Northeastern tops teach bottoms they’re the ones who need to make the effort Opens new window of a page on this blog.

While some of them were hot enough for me to go and fetch them, it turns out I didn’t rent the car but a colleague did. I simply wasn’t an option.

Then came the other morons.

I also get a collection of those who want to postpone. These guys appear in every city, without fail. I wonder if they ever fuck. All conversations go something like this.

THEM: “How long you in town?”

ME: Just tonight (no matter how long I’m in town, I always say I’m here “just tonight”)

THEM: “Damn! It’s getting late tonight.”

ME: It’s just 9:30.

THEM: “I know but I have to get up early. I wish you were here…” fill in the blank with “tomorrow night” or “this weekend”

In other words, they can never come over now or today.

Proximity Alert

My first promising opportunity looked like a threesome, which I won’t get into too much detail on. In his early thirties and a scruffy blond, wanted to know if I wanted to fuck both him and another guy, in his early twenties — both online at the same time. As if on cue, the younger one sends me a message.

The younger one asks if I’ve got poppers, which of course I do.

Then he asks if I’ve got anything “more fun.”

WTF.

“Dude,” I respond back. “You’re well aware I’ve come into town. That means I flew. That means I went through security. At an airport. Are you fucking kidding me? Why would I have any drugs?”

He responds, “Oh yea, I guess you’re right. But I still want to fuck.”

Anyway, the vibe is off and the duo then go even more weird. The young one claims the old one is stalking him. The old one claims they’re “together.”

I don’t want to get into the shit. Kick them both to the curb.

Right Downstairs

One last opportunity happens as a guy indicates he’s in a hotel. I ask which one and it turns out he’s in the same one as I am.

Bingo.

He won’t disclose his room, so I give him mine, knowing my colleague isn’t on that floor. He tells me he needs 10 minutes to shower and get cleaned up.

Those 10 minutes pass. Then another 10. Another 10. Yet another 10. And at 45 minutes, I finally message him.

He apologizes, saying it’s taking him longer than he thought to clean out his ass.

Whatever, I say, just get his ass to my room.

Then he says come to his.

I tell him I don’t have his room number.

He says okay, he’s now putting on his clothes.

At an hour after we started this exchange, he says he’s on his way.

Then I get a text asking me if I’ll suck his dick too.

I’m baffled. I just ask, “What?”

Then he writes, “I need to run by the front desk real quick.”

Fuck that.

This fucker is just playing me.

“Forget it.”

He gets all bent out of shape. Says he won’t go by the front desk. Blah blah blah.

After some back and forth, I say he can some to my room, but he has three minutes to get there.

He says he doesn’t like my attitude.

I tell him to fuck off.

The next morning, he begs me to come to his room to fuck him.

I tell him I’m not disturbing  guests actually staying in the hotel.

Postscript

Perhaps the little fucker actually was staying in the hotel or maybe he was one of the guys I’d e-mailed earlier and said I was in town and knew the hotel from that. I’ll never know. I’m proud I never knocked on anyone’s door. That shit pisses me off. He probably kept delaying things to try and get someone else to come over and knock on my door but, like me, couldn’t find anyone to do it.

My luck is your luck, fucker.

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I don’t ask to be fucked every day….

I don’t ask to be fucked every day….

In fact, asking to be fucked is rare. In fact, mentioning getting fucking on this blog can be handled on one hand — that’s out of more than 500 entries and pages. That’s less and 1 percent. The conversation I had with my top suitor — a man who definitely did not want to experience my cock up his ass — had already been ruled out.

He’s not a porn star by any stretch of the imagination. If he wanted to step into the porn world, he might be able to do so, but his ambitions lie elsewhere. And I does have a few extraordinary talents to share with the world.

But the confidence of talent fails to leak into other portions of his world. He cannot say he’ll fuck me. So I’m left without a cock. And right now, Mason Wyler Open-New-Window-External hasn’t stepped in to confirm he’ll fill my hole.

I’m not taking any cock. It must be a special cock attached to a special guy who will give it to me to the explosive end.

Accepting applications now Opens new window of a page on this blog.

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Where all the cum is in Atlanta

Get Fucking Sleazy in Atlanta…

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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