Tag Archives: beefy man

Grindin’ Ass Raw: How Quickly ‘Safer’ Bottoms Go Raw

Grindin’ Ass Raw: How Quickly ‘Safer’ Bottoms Go Raw

Raw-or-wrapped-2How much I love asking the question, “Raw or wrapped?’

If I’m on Grindr or Scruff or Manhunt (I’ve got a free trial) or Craigslist, it’s a question that’s bound to come up. And ever-so-quickly, as soon as it does, the response about half the time is “wrapped” or “safe.”

Fuck, just look at the young man to the right — he wrote “Always safe.”

And I wrote, “Oh. Too bad. I’m not.”

Immediately — not even a minute passed — before he said he’d fuck raw.

Recently, a survey found about half of all gay men said they fucked bareback while the other half said they fucked safe. This is a flawed study because, I believe, when confronted with someone a bottom want to fuck him, he’ll go raw almost every time.

Believe me, I get more ass this way.

A lot of you may think I’m out there stealthing ass Opens new window of a page on this blog left and right. No. I’m not. I only do that at sex clubs, adult bookstores or bathhouses where anonymous hook-ups are rampant and, even then, it’s rare.

Most everywhere else, the horny man will go raw without hesitation.

The Tanned, Tattooed Lasian

I’m downtown running errands and, whenever that happens, I see that as an opportunity to get some. Honestly, Grindr and Scruff are hit and miss. Plus it’s a Wednesday in Atlanta Opens new window of a page on this blog and I know that’s a craptastic day.

But the common chime goes off on the ole iPhone and I begin chatting it up with what looks to be a light-skinned Latino.

If you’ve been reading my blog, you know I have a thing about exotics — any Asian or Latin flavor. Well, we all also know I’m an equal opportunity fucker Opens new window of a page on this blog, glad to breed most any ass.

The 27-year-old had shitty photos, but it didn’t much matter to me. He’d turned off his distance meter but seemed pretty damn close. And we were getting along. He liked my cock shots. He asked me to come over to fuck him.

Raw-or-wrapped“Raw or wrapped?” I asked.

“Wrapped.”

I turned him down, letting him know I just fucked raw.

Now I expect bottoms to come back with an invitation anyway, but his response shocked even me.

“Okay, well, you can fuck me raw as long as you cum in me,” he typed.

“I have no problem breeding your ass,” I wrote back.

Soon I had an address and was on my way.

Turned out I was only 3 minutes away from his apartment complex. He answered the door with just a towel.

A 6-feet tall, this beefy man’s wide, smooth chest looked just meaty and delicious. He was deeply tanned. And those horrible photos just couldn’t make up for the vision before me. Tattoos scattered his body. In fact, throughout our session, every move would cause me to discover a new tattoo — he had at least a dozen. Some as small as a dime while others were much larger.

His nipples pointed down toward his belly.

He escorted me to the bedroom and dropped his towel while I began taking off my clothes. His large flat nose gave him a Hawaiian look but the Asian truly stood out. That is, as he jacked his uncut cock and it stood up a rigid 8 inches and very wide.

Now that wasn’t Asian cock. It was truly Latin.

We went down to business, him snorting my poppers Opens new window of a page on this blog, sucking my cock, kissing me with his luscious thick lips and begging very soon for me to eat his ass and fuck him.

His legs and ass were covered with dark, wiry hair (again, symptoms of Latin descent). I worked his hole just a little before he wanted my rock hard cock inside him. His padded tanned skin next to my mighty white seemed like an odd dichotomy, but it worked as my cock slipped inside and he snorted more on those poppers.

With him on his back, my cock thrusting inside him, he soon began begging for my nut.

“You want it already?” I said, knowing we’d only been fucking a few minutes. But I was on errands and didn’t have long. But I didn’t mind making this a quick one. As fast as he was jerking his cock, I knew I wouldn’t have long anyway.

“Breed me man,” he said.

I snorted the poppers now and went plunging over the edge.

I bred his ass, pushing my cum inside him and letting him know he’d gotten my load. Then I pulled out and dressed.

“Damn,” he said. “Thanks. I’ve been looking all day for someone to come over and fuck me. You were the first one serious enough to do it.”

“Glad to help out,” I said.

And I left.

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Travel Diary, Day 19: Latino Guido

Travel Diary, Day 19: Latino Guido

My journey to the Sunshine State lacked a lot of sunshine. I attempted to see if I could use Twitter and this blog to get a little attention — hopefully some of the sexual kind. I knew some hotties were around the area and hoped a couple might even just pop in to meet, have a drink and see what comes up.

Alas, that did not happen. My tweets resulted in some resounding silent responses, except for the occasional “wish I was in town” bullshit.

Something tells me a few wanna-be bottoms were in town but just didn’t want to see what words ended up here.

So I spent my first evening at the Parliament House Motor Lodge, getting a little more shit-faced than I’d planned. And believe me, the shit-face truck rolled over me like a tractor trailer. Around 2 a.m., I stood over the sink, water running and washing off the last of that evening’s dinner and drinks, which decided for a command performance. As the soberness returned a little at a time and I cursed my drunken lot in life, I decided the 30-degree fresh air might snap me out of it.

I stepped outside my door, seeing the usual collection of trolls and semi-straight seeking a blowjob.

The crispness filled my lungs and helped wipe some of the fogginess away. I watched as a beefy man who’d driven from Tallahassee for a blowjob wandered the breezeways hoping for a welcoming mouth. He attempted to shun me, which was fine because anything in my mouth at this point might start me hurling again.

He soon walked away and two more doors down, I saw it swing open into the shadows. He appeared for just a moment, standing in the open door, his arms stretched over his head, his lightly hairy pits whispering in the breeze and his bare tan skin showing the immediate puckering of goose bumps.

Jeans, open to show just the hint of pubes, I never got a good look at his face. But his body wasn’t obscene. Probably in his early 30s, a wide beefy chest, very smooth with one tattoo on his upper right arm.

Our eyes locked for just a moment.

All this transpired in less than a second and my glance gave me enough inspiration to begin to walk toward him as he hid in the darkness. I walked into the room, closed the door behind us and unzipped.

He didn’t have the same problem as me. He gobbled down on my cock voraciously — sucking so damn hard I thought my head would rip from the shaft. This little Latino bitch wanted cock.

Soon his pants were off and we were tugging at my clothes. The cool air had stopped the room from spinning, but now the lust that seemed to consume us filled the air. We were intoxicated. Before long, we kissed, his serpentine tongue snaking into my mouth and licking at the sides of my mouth.

I don’t kiss much, although it’s been known to happen. But there’s a moment sometimes when you just want as much as a person can give. And for some reason, this little bitch in heat had me.

Before long, I’d slicked up my cock and he’d offered his ass up. I pushed inside him and a little groan escaped him, followed by the sound of the piece-of-shit mattress beginning to squeak as I am sure it had a thousand times before this night.

Each thrust, a little deeper. Each time he pulled me closer. Soon my cock was buried in his fat Latin ass.

I fucked him in a variety of positions over the next ten minutes. And he wanted it. He begged with his body. But the thing I needed was to hear him beg.

“Tell me you love my raw cock in your ass,” I’d grunt lowly.

He’s respond with a little hesitation: “I love your cock in my ass.”

“You love taking bare cock in your hole, don’t you?” I’d ask.

He’d always pause. He’d only say, “I love taking your cock.”

Words like “raw” and “bare” just didn’t seem to come out of his mouth. He was embarrassed at his craving for cock and cum. He didn’t want to admit he was a fucking little cum-craving bitch. He couldn’t find the voice to admit it.

I knew what this meant.

I paused to search for poppers, offered him an indulging snort and then immediately took my own as my cock slipped into his spit-slicked hole.

Now I fucked him with meaning. I let him know I controlled his destiny. His legs up around my neck, he sensed some degree of control, like his fat Latino sphincter would be able to expel me when ready.

As I approached the point of no return, I slowed my pace and snapped my breathing into a steady pace. I knew he was listening closely. I knew he craved it but would never admit it.

The poppers kicked into full force and I went over the edge, letting my cum spill out into his guts. That’s when I picked up pace and asked him to “tell me you want it!”

As I approached my fake orgasm, literally moments on the heels of my real one, I began the huff and puff. Soon as I held my breath in anticipation of an orgasm, his heels pushed down and my cock slipped, coated in cum and spit, from his ass.

In the afterglow, he turned a lamp on and I got a good look at his face. It surprised me, the beefy Latin body topped my a slightly pear-shaped head, his eyes slanted opposite from Asians. He looked straight out of New Jersey but with a very neutral accent. My only thought: “Latino Guido.”

When I finally returned to my room and fell into bed, I smelled and tasted him all night until my shower the next morning. In a way, I wished I’d stayed with him and injected another load to assure a little part of me was left with him. But I would have to be satisfied with the time we spent together.

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