Tag Archives: basement

Gloryhole Slut at 18

Gloryhole Slut at 18

I can’t make this shit up.

If I did, I wouldn’t use cardboard. But the kid did.

He hit me up on Scruff. Usually I ignore the 18-year-old boys. And that’s what they are… boys. Even though some have these perfectly taught bodies with a slight layer of baby fat. And the barely legal pubes sprout out over the spit glistened cock where they’ve rubbed one out repeatedly.

He was just a few miles away and looking for “fun.” And I was bored. Chatting him up a little. His profile lacked a face pic but the chest pic seemed harmless enough.

Then he mentioned he’d built his own gloryhole and wanted me to fuck him through it.

I didn’t believe him.

A second later, I got a photo via Scruff.

Indeed, the cardboard with a hole cut into it, secured into a basement window.

Then he checked my height again and, a few minutes later, came back to say he was raising it for me since I stand over six feet tall.

Within an hour, he sent be a second pic (the one you see above). Now adjusted to my height, he asked me to come by his home, sneak down to the basement and fuck him.

Of course, I was wary of this little plot. I didn’t quite believe him… at first. But over the next little while, he convinced me of a couple of things:

  • He had a gloryhole.
  • He was 18 years old.
  • He wanted his ass fucked and bred.

I waited until well after midnight, when most people would be asleep before venturing to his neighborhood. I drove cautiously through it.

Everything was quiet and, his nondescript home sat silent and dark. I parked far enough away not to be noticed but close enough for a good escape. As the cicadas sang in the night, I crept nearby and then finally around to where I could see from the back, indeed, there was a gloryhole lit up.

I sent a message and approached.

He was kneeling naked. This young, beefy 18-year-old body at the hole.

I unzipped and put my cock through.

His hands were cold compared to the humid July air. He fumbled with my cock. His mouth surrounded me and he tried his hand at a blowjob. Honestly, it needed a lot of work. I never have a problem getting hard, but if I did, he’d have a hard time getting me there.

Inexperience. He needed someone to guide him. But with this piece of cardboard, I’d never be able to teach him how to take cock.

After a bit, he stood and turned around, aiming my rock hard 7-inches for his ass.

Like velvet.

Where he had inexperience in sucking, he made up in fucking.

I could smell the baby oil he obviously been using to lube up. And perhaps he’d been playing with something up his ass because it slipped inside his hole with the greatest of ease.

He scooted back, practically sitting on me. The cardboard pressed up between us. I lunged forward a little.

I’m not huge. But let me tell you, men notice when I go inside. They feel my cock slide into their guts and, for many, can’t always just take it in a single slide.

This little college-boy slut could.

And he bounced.

No adjustment needed.

Part of me wondered if I was his first cock of the evening. I never sniffed a whiff of other cum, but who the fuck knows. Or cares.

I couldn’t pound him and, when I tried to set a pace, he couldn’t quite get the groove with me.

I would have loved to have grabbed his hips and just thrust into him with all I could. But we were at a fucking gloryhole at his parents’ house in the middle of the fucking night. And I was a creepy old man fucking their son bareback.

So I just concentrated on the feeling.

His ass was open to my cock, just loose, but still wrapped around my cock tightly enough. The oil along with a little of his sweat, spit and my precum mixed together to provide enough lube for a good amount of friction.

But he was a natural bottom. I could see his smooth body through the little cracks.

Better yet, I could feel his ass. I just felt smooth and perfect.

I knew it wouldn’t be long. The excitement of this forbidden place and an 18-year-old hole — probably the youngest I’ve fucked in years.

And I felt my cum boiling up in my balls. I stopped moving and let him continue his awkward rocking.

I unleashed a torrent of cum into his ass. I held back my grunts or any noise. I just let my cock pump into him. I know I pumped for a solid 20 seconds. Strand after strand of hot man DNA streamed into his well-oiled cunt.

And I remembered where I was. I pulled back, zipped up and slipped into the night.

I got a Scruff message a few minutes later asking for more.

I would give it to him another night. And invite another top to join me.

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How to Host a Gay Orgy

how to host a gay bareback orgy

How to Host a Gay Orgy, Content

Pick an Orgy Theme
BulletStrip Poker Opens new window of a page on this blog
Planning Your Space
Security Concerns
Purchasing and Planning Supplies
The Guest List
Scheduling the Orgy
Asking a Guest to Leave
Asking for Money
Orgy Etiquette
BulletA More Detailed Orgy Etiquette Opens new window of a page on this blog
The Orgy Begins
Boosting Sexual Success
Ending the Orgy

 

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Pick an Orgy Theme

Why pick a theme? It’s an orgy! Right?

Every orgy has a theme even if it’s, “Anything goes.” That’s a theme.

Perhaps it’s a “load the birthday boy” or “twentysomething jerkoff” party. It doesn’t matter. Creating a successful orgy means generating some interest.

When I lived in Washington, D.C., I happened to own a home that had a single large room with almost no windows that made it a particularly successful space for hosting orgies. I became quite successful at creating some get-togethers.

A few ideas beyond the traditional conversion party Open-New-Window-External  or jock/bear/twink/leather exclusive get together:

lightbulb_on Friday Fog Fuck Fest
lightbulb_on My version of strip poker Opens new window of a page on this blog
lightbulb_on Sexy slumber party
lightbulb_on Masquerade party
lightbulb_on Gloryhole Hoe Down
lightbulb_on Underwear exchange orgy
lightbulb_on Russian Roulette orgy Open-New-Window-External

You can make it simple just by restricting age, kind of people, types or anything else. But choosing a theme helps you in restricting your guest list. This is something you will want to do.

Please note that being polite goes a long way to lessen the animosity that could develop. Posting something like, “No fatties and ancient trolls,” will piss off some queens who’ve been used to attacks. Therefore these bitterness-containers may target your gathering by pretending to be someone else and then wrecking havoc or, worse, creating a security risk by informing the local homophobic hate groups.

Don’t laugh. I’ve seen it happen. And truth be told, I’ve had an asshole host cause (a younger, less mature) me to send dozens of people to his house and ruin his orgy (he was a fortysomething man hosting only svelte, blond twentysomethings with treasure trails, although his invite didn’t say as much). When he uninvited me, he wasn’t delicate and polite.

RULE #1 of GOOD ORGY HOSTING
Don’t Be an Asshole.

Your orgy theme needs to reflect the kind of debaucherous experience you want to occur, even if it’s an impromptu sex encounter with a few locals.

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Planning Your Space

Gay Bareback OrgyIf the orgy is at your home, decide where guests will and will not have access. Think of the entire experience. Do you live in a gated community? A high-rise with street parking? A home in the suburbs? A basement apartment with a back entrance?

The entire visit must be explained in detail to your guests. Don’t just give an address, but let them know about the parking situation, whether there’s a gate or door code, whether to knock or enter straight on, etc.

Explaining the access interior might be important as well.

Dump-and-go parties — where there’s a bottom set up and accepting loads from multiple tops who stop by over a period of time — usually has a space where the tops can clean-up, disrobe and also put back on clothes in preparation to leave. When hosting in a hotel or motel, this isn’t always possible.

Other orgies usually have a playroom or rooms where the sex occurs and a break space for refreshments. Sometimes there’s a space for people to remove, put on and store clothing.

RULE #2 of GOOD ORGY HOSTING
Have a place for guests to disrobe, store clothing safely and dress later.

Although I enjoy going over and doing the “wham, bam, thank you Sam” thing, I don’t really consider that an orgy. You will need the following three spaces minimal:

Green square bullet Dressing room
Green square bullet Play space(s)
Green square bullet Clean-up space (most likely a bathroom)

Your optional spaces may include the following:

Yellow Square Bullet Lounge break space (where sex will not occur but guests may be naked)
Yellow Square Bullet Non-sex lounging space (where guests should be clothed and no sex should occur)
Yellow Square Bullet Refreshment space (may also be the lounge space, but a place where guests can get a drink of water or other beverage or snack)
Yellow Square Bullet Specialty sex spaces (you may want to designate a space for bondage, barebacking, JO, sling(s), massage, etc.)

Finally, you should consider designating off limits spaces.

bullet_square_red Post signs for spaces like extra rooms, your office, etc., that guests should not enter.
bullet_square_red Also consider posting signs on the refrigerator, pantry, cabinets, etc., politely directing guests to the location of refreshments. Use positive phrases like, “Beer, sodas and bottled water located in the cooler on the deck” rather than “Don’t take my shit from the refrigerator” because people will be more likely to take stuff with negative commands.

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Security Concerns

When planning any get together, security is a must. I personally have been to orgies where my belongings were stolen Opens new window of a page on this blog from inside the orgy home and the word “FAG” was keyed into my car. As both the host and the participant, ways to assure a secure environment

As a host, two ways secure your environment:

The Locked-Door Policy

At a designated time (as you clearly state in the invitation), the entrance/exit will be locked. No new admissions will occur after this point. While you plainly state this, I recommend that you be a little late on locking the door. This allows for traffic issues (which you should monitor in case there’s an accident nearby — it’s happened to me) and for those who just can’t arrive on time. It also allows for the participants to loosened up a little.

Monitored

This one is a little more difficult because it requires someone or a couple of folks to skip the fun and monitor the door (and perhaps the clothing room). A couple of ways to accomplishing this:

bullet_square_blue Hire men to be your “security.” You can hire “heteroflexible” men, like local “straight” strippers. Let your participants know these men (who will wear little) are available after the festivities and will be accepting tips. You can also hire older men, straight men, liberal women, friends or pretty much anyone who doesn’t give a fuck what’s going on. Let the participants know that these folks are protecting their belongings. Once the party is in “full swing,” the doorman can step outside and check cars, call police if there’s suspicious activity, alert participants if the cops are coming, etc. If you can, consider creating a “coat check” like situation. Consider purchasing several stackable plastic bins and let participants put their clothes and keys inside it. Post-It notes allows the coat-check person to note a name and description (Tom, pierced nipples, smooth, bald head).

bullet_square_blue Create shifts with volunteers. Some folks will do it for free but consider asking for tips. It’s in everyone’s best interest. The best bet are folks who want a single shot (or need to cum just once). There’s also the option to send bottoms to service the top monitors while they work.

I’d always suggest you encourage participants to leave valuables at home, lock their IDs and wallets in their cars (hidden and out of site).

If you’re attending an orgy, I recommend the same — leave as many valuables as you can at home and the rest in your vehicle. After my stolen clothes experience, I’d suggest the following (unless you know the host or you’re attending an orgy with someone there to protect your clothes and goods):

bullet_square_blue Keep your clothes and keys with you, leaving your wallet and phone in the car (if you don’t feel safe without a phone, don’t fucking go; or, as an option, park close and have a Bluetooth connection to your phone at all times). I’ve been to an orgy or two where there was a designated room for play and it was easy enough to strip, fuck, play and then clothe oneself to hang out and eat, drink or socialize in other parts of the house.

bullet_square_blue If there’s a “no clothes” rule, consider separating your clothes and your car keys. Car keys can easily be stashed away someplace small and not very obvious. This gives a thief something to take and gives you a chance to still get your car. I’d drive home naked (or borrowing some shorts from the stupid host) with my keys than trying to get my keys from someone else.

bullet_square_blue Another option is simply keep your keys on you by securing them in a sock or something else on your body. I recommend this option, especially in sketchy situations if you have to bail without your clothes (I’ve heard of this but never personally experienced it). This might lead you to wearing disposable clothes (ones that you wouldn’t mind losing) and having an extra set in your vehicle.

I also recommend you be well aware of your surroundings and have an escape route. If something goes wrong, you can get the fuck out and leave. Also, just in case, I always leave “evidence” or information of the address where I went so anyone can find it quickly.

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Purchasing and Planning Supplies

About to fuck in a gay orgyWe don’t want to believe that we need to purchase things like poppers Opens new window of a page on this blog and lube, but alas, not everyone brings their shit even when we insist on it. Therefore, plan on buying some and having someone take yours.

I personally always purchase smaller bottles of lube anyway because I’m always needing to pocket them for random hookups or visits to bookstores Opens new window of a page on this blog or sex clubs Opens new window of a page on this blog. As an option (if you purchase in bulk or gallon size), put the lube in plastic travel bottles. Poppers can’t be put in plastic and, generally, are too valuable just to leave all over the house. I would tuck my favorites certain places for me to remember if I needed them handy.

Consider purchasing inexpensive hand towels spaced throughout the house, especially on any flat surface and in any room you think sex will happen. Put away the nice towels and put out the cheap ones.

Now some people might think of “party favors” or “party supplies” might be drugs like Tina (crystal meth), Molly (MDNA), ecstasy or marijuana (pot or 420). You may wish to allow them, but it certainly makes your gathering a target for law enforcement. I personally would avoid such and say it’s not allowed (if you choose to indulge, do it on your own privately). Unless you’re already in some liberal bastion like San Francisco, a gay bareback orgy is going to be especially frowned upon, so law enforcement getting wind of illegal drugs and sodomy going on just might cause a major sting operation. Avoid.

And if you’re thinking of going and know that this is happening, avoid.

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The Guest List

Guests to your gathering will be inevitably difficult to build. I always recommend you begin with your own hookups. You know these men so you’ll know a little bit about them — top, bottom or versatile. Generally, that is where every orgy begins with a mixture of how many men you’d like to invite and the ratio of tops-to-bottoms.

In barebacking, bottoms can be really greedy. Therefore, making it very clear the collection of people attending will make it much easier.

The question will also come for photographs along with statistics of the other attendees.

This makes for a very weird situation because some 22-year-old might refuse to come if there’s one ugly 40-year-old in the bunch. This is why I encourage the theme choice from the outset.

If it’s a “white athletes in their twenties with six pack abs only” party, then fucking specify it. However, the host must match the theme as well.

RULE #3 of GOOD ORGY HOSTING
The host must “match” the theme.

I once saw a guy hosting a barebacking party and knew who it was. He happened to be in his fifties, older, hairier and frankly out-of-shape fat. He used deceptive advertising on Craigslist to get younger men to respond, thinking they were coming to a nice jocks-only orgy.

Once I got the address of the get together, I flooded Craigslist with information on the man hosting the party. I also sent a few older, hairier men over to the address when they asked about it. I know. It’s evil of me. And it wasn’t friendly to the other guys. But the asshole got the point.

One must be reasonable about what one is going to get. One must be honest about what will be attending.

What I generally do with the first installment of an invitation folks know the general range of who will be attending based on the theme. Then, if the person is interested in attending, he must return at least one photo for inclusion in a collage of photos I put together.

I give everyone a deadline and let everyone know when the e-mail with everyone’s stats and the collage of photos will go out.

Some people send me a dozen pics. Some send one. Some send face. Some send ass. Some send body. Some send cock. I put together one or two collages of photos and a list of the participants’ basic stats.

From that point, I ask for confirmation of attendance.

At your first orgy, expect about 20 to 40 percent of your participants to actually arrive. If you maintain a mailing list and your orgies continue to be successful, the percentages will go up. Generally, you will never get more than 60 percent.

iphone-in-a-pocketE-mail multiple times leading up to the actual orgy start. Provide phone numbers for people who need them (if you don’t want to give out your real number, consider getting a Google Voice number Open-New-Window-External and link it or forward it to your phone. Yes, you can even get texts, but not all MMS.

One may use the BarebackRT.com Open-New-Window-External local party feature, but not everyone is on BBRT. There’s also sites like Evite.com, which allows for maybe, yes, no and hasn’t responded to invitations. Either way, you will want to build your own database or mailing list to maintain and you might even want to make mental notes of who attends and who doesn’t. I personally recommend getting really e-mail addresses and issuing invitations through those, as they’re easier to track should something happen at a get together.

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Scheduling the Orgy

Tea time orgies (anything in the afternoons) generally only work on weekends and holidays unless you’re planning on hosting an orgy at a public sex club or adult bookstore Opens new window of a page on this blog. Lunchtime drop-off orgies can work under certain circumstances.

Depending on the theme, the later the better. If you’re having a strip poker party Opens new window of a page on this blog or some normal party, then starting at 7 p.m. or so is just fine. Plan on later — more like 10 p.m. to midnight or even 1 a.m. if you want the after bar crowd.

One might even survey people to see what they might prefer. SurveyMonkey.com allows limited number of responses if you want to have a small selection of people to answer.

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Orgy Etiquette

I love to include a special section on etiquette Opens new window of a page on this blog in my e-mailed invitations. It’s an important reminder to everyone attending and it’s helped me make my orgies a little better. While I’ve created a more detailed version of the orgy etiquette Opens new window of a page on this blog here, your summary can be simple:

bullet You will not be attracted to everyone who attends, but there will be people there you’ll find hot.
bullet An orgy is like a potluck dinner — try a little of everything; don’t limit yourself like some sort of a la carte menu.
bullet Don’t plan on choosing the one guy you find hot and go off into a corner to make out; it’s an orgy which means everyone plays with everyone.
bullet Everyone’s allowed to touch everyone else; politely let someone else know if you’d prefer something else.
bullet (If appropriate) Let the attendees know if there’s a designated top or bottom for use if all else fails.
bullet No jerking off or just voyeur play; you’re a participant.

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Asking a Guest to Leave

I have rarely hosted an orgy without having someone who needs to be politely asked to leave or who automatically knows they are the odd man out, so to speak. Further, with bareback orgies, someone always tries to sneak in just to watch the fun and never participate. For some people, this isn’t a problem. I personally think it’s not a show but a participant sport.

One should be there to play.

Therefore, if something isn’t right, as host you can ask someone to leave.

Here’s the easiest way:

[alert style=”orange”] I wanted to thank you so much for coming to the get together.
However, I think it’s going to be in your best interest if you go ahead and leave.
I’m sorry it didn’t work out but I’ll keep you in mind for a more appropriate get together in the future. [/alert]

Now sometimes a dimwitted guest will want to know why they’re being asked to leave. Here’s a few examples:

[alert style=”orange”]I’m so sorry to say this, but the photos you provided don’t appear to be an accurate portrayal.
Perhaps it would benefit you to update them in the near future.(If you ask multiple guests to leave; this is a lie to spare the feelings of those you’re asking to leave)
I am afraid something has come up and we’re going to need to cancel the sexual portion of the party.
I hope you don’t mind. I’ll let you know if and when we reschedule.Unfortunately, you’re just not compatible with the designated theme of the party.I apologize, but we do expect you to participate in the sexual activity, not just watch.[/alert]

Occasionally, one does have to be a little mean to kick someone out. Or just start the orgy and let someone sit alone for a while and realize they’re all alone.

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Asking for Money

fucking bareback orgyI am not a big proponent of asking for designated amounts. I went to one orgy once that required $20 to get in. Funny thing, when I left after finding it a bust, the “donation” basket sat full by the front door. While I could have absconded with hundreds of dollars, I just took my twenty back since I didn’t shoot a load. I felt I didn’t get my money’s worth.

I don’t think it’s a big deal to suggest people tip for security or other things, but an actual admission or cover starts making it more like a sex club. Why do that?

Whatever you do, make it a donation or a suggested donation or optional tip.

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The Orgy Begins

I believe in alcohol.

Beer, wine, shots or something is needed before the “official” kick off of the orgy should begin.

Consider the booze a little lubricant for the party. It’s needed for people to get to know each other. I sometimes like for there to be an hour or so before the official orgy begins and the loosening up period begin.

This allows for people who feel out of place to leave (without you asking them). It also allows a little time for the inhibitions to go down.

Now it does depend on the type of party. For a blackout or darkroom or fog party where the room is dark, you don’t need this. But sometimes it is needed so people can become more comfortable.

Also, as the party begins, consider turning the air conditioning or heater temperature down, cracking a window or something to cool the space off. The space will heat up quickly. However, if the space is cooled off too well, no one will get naked.

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Boosting Sexual Success

People hired to applaud at appropriate times during a performance are known as claqueurs Open-New-Window-External and, in a way, the host and a few others need to be such at an orgy.

Your orgy claqueurs will act as instigators of action. They’ll start blowjobs or fucking or get naked or jerking off or whatever it takes to break the ice and get the action going.

With every orgy, the sexual energy ebbs and flows with the attendees and the vibe. You want to choose sexual people who can seemingly create sexual tension out of nothing.

Asking people to be your orgy instigators of action will help tremendously so you aren’t always the one.

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Ending the Orgy

Unless you’ve decided to make a night of it by hosting some sort of sleep over, the party must come to an end. Some people just don’t seem to take a hint.

I suggest giving a definitive end to your party in time. If you’re having a good time and it goes over, then don’t worry. But when you’re ready, just tell the lingerers, “Hey, I didn’t realize it’s after 1 a.m. I’m going to have to get up early tomorrow. Do you guys mind taking this someplace else?”

They’ll mosey out the door in due time.

The other option is to simply bring them their clothes. Hint, hint!

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Behind Dead Eyes… A Return to Breed a Third Load

Behind Dead Eyes… A Return to Breed a Third Load

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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Three Abortions

Three Abortions: Zero for Three in My Attempts to Pop a Load

When am I not horny? Probably the immediate moment after I shoot a load into a boy, but I recover quickly. Really, that’s not true. Part of me still wants to make sure my territory is marked.

At work one day, I happened to be particularly horny. I posted on Craigslist (through my iPhone, duh) and hoped for the best. Two potentials showed up for a lunchtime pump and dump. I chose the closer of the two although the second happened to be an Asian.

Abortion #1: Druggie/Serial KillerLuckily, I thought as I left the office and headed over, these two actually read the post and got the word that I wanted a quick fuck. We’d not had a lot of back-and-forth. Not the usual bullshit of e-mails and more pics and negotiations of what was on the table and off the table.

I plugged the address into the GPS and drove over, listening to the radio and blissfully ready for my balls to unload.

Driving through a well-established neighborhood with well-manicured lawns and maintained middle-class homes, my GPS announced my arrival up on the right. Like a sore thumb, the home sat on a hill, overgrown lawn. With gutters falling off and a crumbling front porch, I already seemed wary of where I was comparatively. This wasn’t a married man cheating on his wife or a gay man’s home.

I knocked since the doorbell had been punched in at some point and collapsed in on itself.

The door opened and the smell of dog, cigarettes and just plain stink hit me. In in plain white t-shirt, a do-rag and boxers with sunken, heroine eyes, overly thin leg with open sores and an emotionless, hopeless expression, he invited me in.

“Thanks man,” I said. “I’m good.”

I assessed my situation quickly and turned around. At one point, he’d been straight, probably a straight bottom. But the years of drug abuse beginning with crystal meth led him to this place. My gut instinct wanted me to run, but it was a beautiful sunny day in a well-populated neighborhood. Maybe I’d just served a subpoena, just walking up to the door and leaving.

In the car, I punched in the Asian’s address and found it only 12 minutes away. I e-mailed him to say I was on my way.

Now Asian ass is prime and the pic he’d e-mailed me looked pretty good. As I near the place, again I turn into a decent neighborhood, although not quite as nice as the last one. Still, the lawns are nice with grown trees and middle-class houses. When I find the house number I’m looking for, I drive past and turn around in disbelief.

This time, the lawn is cut. Well, what lawn there is. The gnomes, globes, frogs, buddhas and literally hundreds of other ceramic figures lining a koi pond keeps most of the grass at bay. As I’d notified my fuck that I arrived, he steps outside to direct me where to park.

I do.

I try not to judge because I begin to figure out he’s a tenant in this home, as he invites me around to the back. But he’s lied about his age. He’s not 30. This guy’s face looks 50. Luckily when we step inside the basement apartment, he begins stripping and his chest and ass say 30. Asians sure maintain a body.

Abortion #2: Asian with jacked up face who cums too quickly Maybe I can keep it together. Maybe I can ignore the white-washed decor and the fact that he actually turns the television to “Family Feud” for our fuck time. Nothing like Steve Harvey saying, “Survey says!?” to make you want to cum, right?

He tries to suck me, but I’m “too big.” I play with his ass a little. He wants to kiss, but the fucker has lied about being a smoker and I’m not kissing. I urge on to the fucking. He pulls out petroleum jelly, slathers some on my cock and his hole and begins to sit on it.

Within two minutes, as I’m about a third of the way into his hole, he announces he’s cumming.

I pull away, his cum still shooting on my belly. I pull the towel from beneath us and wipe off my cock and his cum. I put my clothes on and head out to find some food and go back to work.

Surely, though, this cannot be how I end my day. I need to shoot.

There’s been this “sensual” massage therapist I’ve been meaning to try. He’s relatively inexpensive and, based on his pics, fucking hot. I message him. He’s available just after work.

To me, a sensual massage builds slowly to that moment that you cum. It’s a tease under the hands of someone who knows what they’re doing.

Of course, I had to try someone new.

This fucker had no idea what he was doing. Even though I’d asked whether he was a CMT (certified massage therapist), he lied also. He wasn’t. He didn’t know the muscle groups. He wiped oil on me and went for the spots he thought might turn me on.

Abortion #3: Hot Latino who doesn't know what he's doingOh I got hard. But when he flipped me over, he just jerked my cock. That won’t make me cum on its own. It’s like putting a pot on simmer. You’re not going to bring me to boil without playing with my balls and touching me sensually elsewhere.

That or sitting on my cock.

Now let me explain this guy was six-foot-four of Latino hotness. Smooth with the exception of a nice pube triangle and some light dusting on his ass. His crack also showed a lot of potential. And his body was like Michael Phelps, with long arms. His cock was a thick, uncut beauty.

But the guy couldn’t bring Latin heat if I handed him a bottle of extra hot salsa and a Gloria Estefan CD.

For the second time today, I grabbed a towel, insisting he step away.

“Are you not going to cum?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “It’s not going to happen.”

“What’s wrong?” he said.

“I expected it to be more sensual,” I said.

“I’ve rubbed up against you,” he said. “I thought it was pretty sensual.”

I didn’t respond.

I paid him the minimum, without a tip, and left.

The next man I fuck will get three loads worth of cum: The one he earned plus two more… one meant for an Asian and one intended for a Latin. Any volunteers?

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Dark Passengers Series

Dark Passenger: Like a Virgin

My incredibly clear recollections of him and how he started the molestation end somewhere in a blur, as I wrote. I cannot count how many times it happened, but flashes of memories showing this place and that place — a bathroom, the woods, a basement, the shed. I smell the musty mix of his balls and his pipe, but I never really remember his face. I just see his cock, hard and huge, hanging there relaxed and in front of my face as I knelt down to suck it.

The post-ejaculation depression always brought on the verbal abuse of my descent into hell along with the crippling guilt. I can still feel that guilt, deep in my guts, but it’s a pin-prick compared to the all-consuming self-loathing that filled my hours after succumbing to my lust.

What happens next surprised even me and helped set my course toward some form of normalcy.

* * *

I met Vince as a freshman in high school. Tall and lanky like myself with the same bowl haircut, similar struggles with zits. But his extroverted, I-don’t-give-a-fuck personality proved to be the yang to my yin. We ran track together, something I attempted to fit into the normalcy of high school. We both sucked and our consistent position in the back of the pack led us to strike up a friendship.

Of course, beginning to feel close to someone led me to other feeling, especially since he was indeed a real male. He even had some chest hair to prove it.

As school kinds would, our conversations eventually turned to sex — and liking “girls.” He tried very hard to pin me down on who I liked. We would play a 20 questions like game where I thought I could be at least a little honest. The last conversation of this collection would be the one I can recall to this day.

I’d hinted that “she” rides his bus. He began naming girls, to each I’d respond, “No.” Then, at some point, he tried to determined whether “she” disembarked before or after him. Of course, I was in a corner because “she” got off the bus at the same stop as him.

There was a long pause.

“Is it me?” he asked.

“What?” I stammered. I could feel my heart beating in my ears. My stomach lurched forward. I thought I was going to throw up.

“Do you like me?” he asked.

I couldn’t answer. My eyes blurred with tears and fear gripped me. I couldn’t find an answer.

“Are you telling me you’re gay?”

That word. Oh that word. That I could answer, “No. I don’t think so.” But then I needed to say something. “Maybe I’m bi, but I don’t know.”

“But you like me?” he persisted.

The word, “Yes” popped out of my mouth before I could swallow it.

From somewhere downstairs, my mom began calling me for dinner. At that moment. Now? Really mom? The calls became more persistent.

“COMING!” I yelled. “Listen, I got to go. My mom is calling me.”

“Cool,” he said. “You know what I’m going to do?”

“No, what?” I said, thinking that he’d actually begin calling what few friends I had to tell them I was a “homo.”

“I’m going to jerk off,” he responded.

I lost my voice again.

“I think it’s really hot you’re into me,” he said. “And I got a stiffy to prove it. Let’s talk later.”

Click.

We did talk later. And often. Vince was actually the first guy with whom I ever had phone sex. I would talk about what the girls would do to him and he would hump his bed on the other end of the line. And he’d try to give me some fantasy about men, but it wasn’t a fulfilling as listening to his voice.

At some point, though, I told Vince about the man next door. I don’t recall how it came up or what really transpired. But for all of my fucked-up sense of who I was and my after-life destination, Vince turned out to be the catalyst to turn it all around.

“Dude, you’ve got to stop it and report him to the police,” Vince said.

“But Vince, people would then find out and everybody would think I was a fag!”

“Yea, you’re right,” he said. “But maybe there’s something else we can do.”

Our discussions regarding what to do about him were few since we focused mostly on our own libidos. Our relationship grew over the phone, but physically meeting and actually touching never happened much, until one summer afternoon when Vince called me and invited me over for a sleepover.

I don’t think my cock ever deflated throughout that day and early evening until we were able to finally retire to the basement.

Despite what the man took from me, I count Vince as my first. And technically, he was.

During the evening and early morning, Vince got off seven times. I shot three. Vince was a machine. His cock — similar in size, girth and hardness to mine — never went soft. Oh, and it pointed at his hairy belly button, just like mine. So I wasn’t deformed.

I sucked Vince off twice and licked his balls while he jerked off. At this point, I’d avoided cumming for fear of the painful results that would happen with such a release. Then, Vince requested the act I was probably most curious about.

“You want to fuck me?” he asked. Vince, being as “straight” as he was, refused to suck me. He would touch my cock, but only for short periods. It weirded him out. But he could endure my mouth and hand. Somehow, in his world, sticking my cock into his ass wasn’t as invasive as his mouth.

We found suntan lotion as lube and I rolled on top of him. He felt the usual pain, but for us, it was a new sensation. I pulled out as soon as I’d entered, from the awkward position of two lanky teenage boys, one lying on top of the other.

The next attempt proved more successful and Vince accepted me. If you’ve ever heard of the old show, “Love American Style,” the sex act was always represented by fireworks. Well, my memory of those few moments is so closely related. I saw fireworks, only that the sky was completely filled with these hot colors and none of the black could be seen. Dizzy and hopeful, my hard cock plunged into his virgin hole. I don’t know if we fucked for one minute or twenty. I lost all track of time and place. The pleasure overwhelmed all my senses. Even shooting my load deep into the bowels of this straight boy left me spent but incredibly dazed. I rolled off, smelling a mixture of cocoa butter, shit and our sweat.

“My turn!” Vince said.

Soon he was on top of me in the same awkward position and shoving his cock into my bare hole.

Where the man failed, Vince succeeded. His cock went in. The explosive joy and pleasure I’d experienced just moments before were replaced by sharp, gut-wrenching pain. I could only see red spikes and I begged for Vince to take it out, let it end.

“Just a minute more!” His breath was hot on my neck and he whispered for me to wait just a little bit longer.

He shot in my ass, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him off me. I wanted it to end.

* * *

That night turned out to be a little much for us both. Vince and I never really reconnected and, when school started back up, he avoided me as much as possible. However, Vince did do more for me than he will ever really know.

Truth is, I wanted to share that with Vince. With the 20-year high school reunion upon us, I watched for Vince to RSVP to the online tool and update his profile. Then one day, I logged on to find Vince missing from the roster completely. I sent the organizer a note.

Her e-mail response was abrupt.

“Oh, we moved him to the ‘in memoriam’ section,” she wrote. “He was killed while serving in the Navy shortly after high school. I think it was a car accident.”

I could never share with Vince how his little tryst with me started me on a path of self-worth, where I could value myself and actually enjoy the sex acts I knew I lusted after. In my universe, Vince would never grow old. He would always be the 15-year-old boy who opened me up to the potential.

 

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