Tag Archives: behavior

Darkroom Etiquette

Darkroom Etiquette

To help those who have never experienced a darkroom sexual experience or those who need a bit of a refresher course, this is the guide for you.

What is a darkroom?

A darkroom is where no one can see. No one. Everyone is essentially blind because it’s so incredibly dark.

Why a darkroom?

In a darkroom, without the use of your eyes, you get the opportunity to allow your other senses run wild.

There’s a saying that people who are blind compensate with their other senses. Whether that’s true or not, within the darkroom experience, one cannot rely on your eyes.

This gives you the opportunity to let your fantasies, those things you can invent in your mind, to actually happen.

Who fucking cares if it’s real? Do you want a date or do you want to fuck?

If he feels like a 20-year-old, then believe he is a 20-year-old.

If the cock seems like it’s 10 inches long, then it’s 10 inches.

If he’s a muscle god who smells like a man, lick his fucking pits and enjoy.

A darkroom doesn’t get in the way of everything else, any potential turnoffs (like that ingrown toenail or jacked-up orthodontics) disappear. In the darkness, you’re fucking Dawson with his 20th load or getting bred by Brad McGuire (or whatever legendary top or fantasy top you can imagine).

How a Darkroom Works

The general effort is to make the room as pitch black as possible so that no one can see a darn thing. Of course, a little light will always filter in one way or another. And as your eyes adjust, you can usually make out shapes.

Still, the overall goal is to keep it dark.

That means, no matter how strong the impulse, do not pull out your cell phone and shine its light. It ruins the mood, destroys the fantasy and basically blows out everyone’s pupils, which have to readjust to the darkness.

There are three basic ways of entering a darkroom:

  1. Boldly walk in, not caring what you bump into.
  2. Sneak in along the wall.
  3. Hang around the entrance watching who enters then follow someone you like inside.

I’m generally someone who takes the stealth approach, feeling my way at first along the wall. This gives me a moment to listen and determine if there’s much action going on inside.

Bumping into someone will happen. It’s a fucking darkroom, so get over it.Take this opportunity to check them out. First with a light touch. Then, if they don’t push you away, keep exploring. Are their pants off? Is their dick out? Is their ass prelubed (or leaking cum)? Are they completely naked? Or does he feel like a wrinkled mess?

If he feels you back, he’s interested. If he’s not stopping you, he’s looking for some service.

It’s relatively a common sense situation, although I’ve experienced my share of trolls who cannot take a hint, requiring me to bail out of a darkroom. Generally, men cum about every 5 minutes, so if you leave the darkroom and return in 10, you’ll be in with another group.

To convey my intent, I immediately move my hand to someone’s ass and head to the asshole. If he’s got his pants on, I see if I can slip my hand down inside them. If he bats my hand away, I move on.

I also go for the most common erogenous zones, like the nipples. A little tweak will often open up someone to the option of a fuck.

Courtesy and Tips

Here’s what I suggest to make your experience the best:

  • If you are receiving unwanted attention from a troll, push his hand away — at first gently and then with force. If that doesn’t work, step out of the room (unless you’re in mid-fuck).
  • In mid-fuck, you are free to explore. Let the hands run over your body and don’t get all pissy thinking you should be left alone. If you wanted to fuck alone, you should have gone into a booth or room.
  • Moans, groans, grunts and any basic animalistic sounds are welcome. Otherwise, do not talk.
  • Turn off your cell phone ring and, for God’s sake, don’t fucking answer the phone if it does ring (yes, I’ve experienced it; some asshole actually got a call, answered it in the darkroom and proceeded to have a conversation; cleared the room out in seconds).
  • You will be touched and explored by strangers you cannot see. If this is an issue for you, do not enter a darkroom.
  • Bottoms, it’s quite preferred you be cleaned out and prelubed before going into a darkroom. Keep any lube on hand.
  • If you expect to be “safe” in a darkroom, go with someone who can spot you. One of the easiest places to stealth is in a darkroom, especially when things get busy. You can never really tell which cock is entering you. In fact, I’d suggest the condom Nazis to stay out of the darkrooms.
  • If someone pushes your hand away, consider it a polite way of saying “no thank you” and move on. Don’t be a troll.
  • If you’re not feeling the vibe, step out of the room for 10 minutes and return later. Generally, darkrooms turnover with new action every 5 or 10 minutes.
  • Sometimes you’re lucky to get a service-oriented bottom in the room, who will be naked or pants-down/ass up and allowing all cocks and loads. Be nice, don’t push, and take your turn. Don’t take forever to cum. Pump your load into him.

Hopefully this will all help make your darkroom experiences better. Please add your own darkroom tips below.

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Celibacy: The Only Option

Celibacy: The Only Option

Dear Reader:

I’ve decided to try Celibacy on as an option.

I recently found the Apostolic Pentecostal Rectory of Internal Light on Forsyth Industrial Road in South Tucker, just outside Atlanta.

I’ve been learning about how it’s not God’s Will for those of us challenged with these sins of the flesh must turn away and, if we cannot convert, we must abstain.

So I am beginning my abstinence.

I apologize for all the harm I have caused in my time writing this blog. I hope that my time of personal reflection in the years to come will allow you all to forgive me.

Sincerely,

Mark-Signature-Black

I Am An Ordinary Guy And A Big Ole Geek

I Am An Ordinary Guy And A Big Ole Geek

I am an ordinary guy and a big ole geek. I never proclaimed myself to be anything more or less.

Okay. Maybe I am a stud. And I don’t mean a stud in some amorphous sense that one looks at a hot guy and goes, “Damn, he’s a stud.” I also don’t mean the term you might find in some urban dictionary where it refers to a general bad ass.

I am the animal kingdom version of a stud.

Definition: “An animal retained for breeding.”

Those who give me half a chance to get hard and shove my cock into their hole realize two things:

1. This guy has a very hard cock.

2. This guy knows how to fuck.

Given time, a third thing happens.

3. He breeds.

Knock on wood — primarily, my own — that’s what happens.

My blog here makes no secret of who I am and the type of person I happen to be. I should work out more. I’m not hugely fat. I have one tattoo. I wear geek glasses. I am not stud looking.

Bottom-BrainiacImagine my surprise when this fucking brainiac arrives at my door and says he’s confused who I actually am. Apparently, he’d confused me with some of the porn images on my website.

As he explained — in trying to leave and not have to see me naked — he’d assumed I was the beefy, tattooed guy who was fucking on my site.

Now I went through the last several entries. For the most part, all the porn stuff is labeled. So let’s say the dumb ass can read (but after chatting with him a bit, I’m not sure about that).

It leaves us with the escort entries on Chris, formerly of Detroit, formerly of Orlando, now I think he’s back in Detroit.

This means genius-in-muscles actually thought I was a bottom who was going to fuck him.

I didn’t fuck him because he wanted a pass. And who am I to rape the unwilling (and someone who’s six-f00t-six and got enough muscles to break me in half).

Truth be told, I got this beautiful, muscular Hispanic man with a gorgeous ass who came preloaded with two other loads that gave his ass this tangy taste!

But that’s another story.

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#CloseGhost

#CloseGhosts and My Recent Travels

You can’t see them. You can’t touch them. You just knew that one moment they were there and the next, they were gone. Is it a mystery? Some phenomenon worthy of Bigfoot, the Bermuda Triangle and what pills Paula Abdul takes before going on air?

Probably not.

I call them #CloseGhosts. And I’ve recently had close encounters of the plentiful kind them on recent travels.

With the conviction of a serial killer who proclaims his innocence, these lovely bottoms in far away cities and town lurk upon websites (like BarebackRT.com or this blog), Twitter or other online hook-up destinations, assuring traveling a top when he arrives in their town, city or other geographic region that an ass will be ready to fuck at his demand.

Alas, a phenomenon occurs when that top arrives and is in close proximity to the bottom. The cum dump vanishes into thin air, often with some wispy excuse similar to “the dog ate my homework” or “the check is in the mail.”

Case #1: London Twitter Twink & the Quickening

london-postcardWe all know that London is notoriously known for all the ghosts that wander its streets and waterways, its old buildings and strange little alleys. However, having had men upon men beg me for my load for years, I figured one might be legit among them.

My BBRT exploded. I had more than 300 messages at one time and maintaining control of it via my iPhone came close to impossible. One gentleman who seemed legit got pissy because I’d not responded to him immediately upon arrival in town, so he crossed himself off the list. The rest where the normal lot. I waded through them all, trying to invite someone over for a breeding to my centrally located hotel near the West End, not far from Trafalgar Square.

Too far. Apparently, Londoners go to bed early on Bank Holidays and weren’t interested as I attempted to find someone to fuck about 21:00 to 22:00 (that’s 9 p.m. to 10 p.m. for us bloody Americans).

Then a tweet came in from a twink. How’s London, he asked. I replied. It became a conversation of sorts that moved to direct messages and a bit more privacy when I mentioned my trip would be so much better if I had an ass to breed.

“I can help you out there,” he said. “I’d love for you to load my ass. Big fan of your blog.”

He asked when I was leaving. Told him this was my last night. I asked where he was. He said, “Covent Gardens.”

Boom. That’s the neighborhood I’m in. I’m over at the… I listed the hotel.

Pause. Double pause.

“Oh, it’s too bad I’m not at home tonight. I’m staying with a friend in the country.”

Poof.

Case #2: The Early Alabama Bird Misses the Juicy Worm

greetings-from-Birmingham-Alabama

I’d started on BBRT with this hottie and turned to text messaging. We were getting ready for some good fun, all planned out in Alabama. I’d let him know that it would be a late arrival for me and he’d told me we’d have “several hours” of play.

I’d even arranged a nice corner room, away from everyone in the hotel, because I had a feeling this fuck might get a bit out of control.

I don’t usually trust bottoms. Bottoms in general are not trustworthy. But I’d grown to trust this one.

I arrived just after 9 p.m. and texted. No response. Another text. No response. Around 9:30, I get a response saying he’d fallen asleep. Then, “he didn’t know I was going to be so late.”

Late? It’s 9:30!

We’d been setting this up for a month.

The shitty little cocktease went on to berate me for almost an hour about being “late.” Of course the little fucker didn’t get off so easily in this from me.

Obviously, he loved the chase, but actually fucking… well, I’m guessing his balls hadn’t quite dropped yet. My timing was never the issue.

POOF

Cases 3 & 4: The Revolutionary Missing Men

Bareback top visiting New HampshireIn this history-rich part of America just north of Boston, finding fuckable asses aren’t easy. I knew this. I planned for it with a backup ass. I found them both and, as it turned out, both claimed to want it.

One said he’d be online on BBRT. Te other asked me to text. My #1 choice, the textable ass, got a text.

We pinged a bit before I asked him to come over.

Pause. He then, for some reason, told me his actual location. In Maine. And invited me over.

Baffled, I asked what was up.

“I don’t have a car,” was his response.

Now it wasn’t as if both of us were in downtown Boston. This little hottie claimed in the middle of bumfuck Maine, he had no transportation, after knowing I was visiting from out of town.

WTF and POOF

Back-up plan into action. Logged onto BBRT. Sure enough, he was there. Message. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait longer. And more. I’m tired. Just go to fucking bed.

POOF.

This ghost responded when I was no longer close, in Boston, about to fly home.

Just the Four?

No. I have so many more stories. But these are the four most recent. I did debate divulging Twitter names, BBRT handles showing a photo or two, but I’m going to leave it alone. After all, these #CloseGhosts could be #Catfish for all I know.

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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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