Tag Archives: Beginning

The Confessional Is Open

The Confessional Is Open

What have you done?

What have you done that you’re secretly proud? Or that haunts you?

What have you done?

What have you done that gives you a hard-on? Or makes you want to cut off your cock?

What have you done?

What have you done that puts fear in your soul? Or gives you wings?

We all have these secrets. These things that lurk in the corners of our lives.

I’ve actually told many of these on this website. My molestation and how I struggles with dichotomy of the desires of sex and the hatred of the man who did it. Then there’s stealthing and breeding the men who give opportunity in sex clubs.

Here’s your opportunity to tell your story.

The confessional is open. There is no need for your e-mail or anything else. Just post your secret, from the mundane to the mischievous to the malevolent.

Tell the world your sins. You will feel better.



Long-time readers of my blog might recall this is not the first confessional. Here’s links to previous confessionals:

Adding a splash more color to everything!

A New Design with More Color and a Bigger Splash

If you’ve visited iBLASTinside.com over the last week or so, you’ve seen the new look and a few more changes. I felt the old blog was getting a little stale and needed a new life, needed to be brightened up a little and could use a refresher. There’s still more work to be done as some images aren’t quite fitting quite right but I’ve already gone some of the major repair work taken care at this particular time.

New logo for iBLASTinsideYou’ll notice the new logo for iBLASTinside.com and although the spooge is blue, it’s meant to evoke multiple blasts of cum.

Additionally, I’ve added a new feature to allow everyone to rate any postings with a five-star rating at the beginning and end of every piece (it’s the same rating, you just have two places to rate it). Also, any comments at afterward can get an “thumbs up” or “thumbs down.”

I’ve streamlined sharing on the site as well and am working on a few more adjustments.

So as I put the finishing touches on things, I’d like to know what you think about things.

Quick Survey on the New Look of iBLASTinside.com

What do you think about the new look of iBLASTinside.com?

  • It's a big improvement. (29%, 40 Votes)
  • I like it all right. (20%, 28 Votes)
  • I miss the darker, moodier site. (19%, 26 Votes)
  • I don't give a fuck! (13%, 18 Votes)
  • I love it so much I spooged all over myself! (12%, 16 Votes)
  • I hate it! Bring back the old design! (7%, 9 Votes)

Total Voters: 137

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Comments? Questions?

You got any comments or questions? Just scroll to the bottom and leave me a comment. I look forward to hearing from all my readers.



Dark Passengers Series

Dark Passenger: Aside

Since the “Dark Passenger” disclosure began, I’ve written 13 entries that resulted in (at this posting) 49 responses. Many gentle readers always comment about the circumstances experienced or, at least, I get some commentary. I greatly appreciate it.

That is why I’m particularly perplexed by the lack of response to the 12th posting: “The End of Him.” I’m curious why no one has said anything — empowerment or shock or disappointment.

The series doesn’t end. I will continue the path of my sexual development, as you noticed in the 13th entry called “The Beginning of Me.”

I’m not seeking someone to comment. I’m only asking why that particular posting elicited no response.


Dark Passengers Series

Dark Passenger: The Beginning of Me

Ending the fucked up relationship with my molester caused me to develop an appetite for sex. After all, I was a 15-year-old boy. While my friendship with the straight classmate couldn’t endure school starting again, I had discovered the bathrooms at stores that would abate my sexual appetite.

Lucky for me, my parents went to “town” on a weekly basis — just like clockwork. Even better, the bathroom at the discount department store (a predecessor to modern-day Target) turned out to be frequented by cocksuckers.

So every week, we’d go and I’d wander through the store only to end up at the bathroom in the back. And usually every week, I’d get sucked off under the stall.

Weekly, this would happen. The quality of men turned out to be less than attractive. But even me — a thin, pimply faced, geeky kid — got sucked greedily by men. I’d come to recognize different shoes of the frequenters there (one old man I would never forget and always avoid) and quality of suck jobs (some better, some worse).

Rarely would I engage in a conversation and, since I relied heavily on my parents for transportation, my only choice in these circumstance turned out to be the blowjob. As I think back, I don’t recall having the desire to fuck ass or to suck cock in return. I used men, much the way I do now, but I didn’t recognize it as “using.”

I got off. Men wanted to suck me off. So I let them. In a way, I was a passive top. I got it hard and they could do what they liked. I still enjoy that scene on occasion — an aggressive bottom just using me as his play toy. My cock isn’t as big as all those dildos from porn stars, but it’s a helluva lot warmer and it spurts my own little joy juice.

And, in a way, I continued to be molested. I chose that path. I let it happen. Men continued it. Men wanted to. I wanted men to.