Tag Archives: BTM

Gloryhole cock shoots a load in Jarod's ass

Ongoing Fucking

While I have not been able to post it, I have bred. And often. My Chicago trip saw three receive my juice, which I still intend to record here about two as both were worth the marking — one a loaded Latin, as I mentioned in an earlier post. The other a cheating cub, away from his hubby on business and taking loads from strangers.

I’ve bred four or five others during the blur of my travels. Most are anonymous. Some know who I am but most don’t and I don’t give a fuck one way or another. My notorious blog does give way to allowing me access to ass, which I appreciate.

I’ve also had the lovely honor of loading up an escort who’s decided to try out Atlanta for a time. This adorable (and honestly sweet) young man offers up his ass and appreciates a good fucking.

If you’re in Atlanta or the northern side of town, hit up SubBtmEscort on BarebackRT.com. I hope to get him to open up for one of my more detailed conversations as a bareback escort.

And if you hire him, please mention me. In fact, just say “hi” thanks to me.

I’ve also fucked at Inserection at Cheshire Bridge, the adult bookstore with some of Atlanta’s best gloryholes. The comments on my Inserection page are correct: The place now charges for the rooms upstairs.

I find this is a good thing. Too many meth-head asswipes were abusing the open rooms and flopping upstairs, sleeping off their highs. Now you find sex happening downstairs and more fucking. I’ve bred more thanks to this push downstairs, especially through gloryholes.

Just yesterday, I actually ended up in a booth with a former Marine — at least I am guessing he was former. Gosh, more than any other branch of the service, those guys just love getting it up the ass. And this one did too, taking my load with gusto.

All this said…

While I’ve written all this, I do think things will need to shift or change.

I haven’t figured out exactly how. Do I mean I’m settling down? Not at all. I can’t. I need to spread my seed. I always will.

But I also need a better resource of ass. And although I’ve craved to help pass on the skills I’ve learned, I still haven’t found someone dedicated enough to mentor.

I pass the time. Waiting.

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Catfish Uncovered, Fake Profiles Online

When Anonymous Hook-Ups Don’t Work Out: Atlanta Tops Need to Beware of This Catfish

Let’s be honest that there’s plenty of flakes and fakes out there. The Manti Te’o case Opens new window of a page on this blog brought a lot more attention to the plight and scourge of catfish Open-New-Window-External and it’s been a theme on this website Opens new window of a page on this blog.

I tend to expose the assholes stupid enough to use photos of convicts Opens new window of a page on this blog, porn stars Opens new window of a page on this blog or others.

This one is different.

The Ass of a CatfishIn late September 2012, I began communicating with a person who wanted me to stop by his house and breed his ass. We began via e-mail. On the particular day, the person had a particular window of time, wanting to arrive home. As it turned out, it would be after I would drive past where his house happened to be on my journey home.

Through the course of our correspondence, in which we traded photos and eventually phone numbers to text, we would finally settle on one afternoon where the timing worked out. He gave me his address again (so I’ve received his address both via e-mail and text). I drive to the location.

It’s October 8, 2012.

The sun is dipping behind the fall leaves and there’s a coolness to the air. Pumpkins already sit out on the portico of this lovely brick home in an upscale neighborhood far outside the Perimeter (Atlanta’s interstate loop around the city). I’ve diverted my normal route home in order to hit a few extra red lights and visit this man’s home.

It doesn’t look like he’s gay. It appears he might be married with kids. This home is too large for a single man and this community just doesn’t have a signature of young couples. The house has to be five or six bedrooms at least.

I’m awaiting a text from him to say come inside, the front door is unlocked. He’s had me waiting in my car, in the driveway for way too long. I already know something is a little up.

I’m scanning the windows, which all have wooden blinds shut tight. Likely, he’d checked me here, but I never saw one move.

I walk to the door like I belong here and push the doorknob to open it.

It’s locked.

I text and knock.

He says he forgot to unlock the door. He’ll be down in a minute to unlock it.

Of course, that never happens.

Then, in the next few minutes, he gives me a brand new ZIP code. Says I got it all wrong.

Now remember that I’ve received his address twice. I check it both places and he’s clearly given the ZIP code to this place correctly.

As it turns out, there is another street with the same name but it’s several miles away in another suburb. For example, there’s Holly Bank Court in Norcross and Holly Bank Circle in Atlanta.

I’m not stupid. I’m not criss-crossing Atlanta.

That Brings Us to Today

These kinds of wild goose chases happen. I usually can weed out the fakes, but this guy was in for the long con. In a way, I’ve got to give him some respect for the play, keeping me on the hook and playing me for a few weeks until he was able to reel me in. I wonder how many men in Atlanta followed through on this process only to end up visiting two addresses and getting no response or meeting some folks who never expected these strange men to show up on their doorstep.

Not cool.

As is normal for me, I’m hanging on BarebackRT.com Open-New-Window-External this morning and I get a message from BtmCatcherATL Open-New-Window-External. In the course of going back and forth, he wants a load and, based on what I see, it doesn’t look bad.

Now I see a lot of ass. Visually, I don’t catalog every ass photo I see.

BtmCatcherATL Open-New-Window-External is only 13 miles from my house and, in the scheme of things for Atlanta and my normal travels to get some, that’s not bad. I ask for his location.

It’s the address of his house that I recognize. A nice cul de sac in an upscale neighborhood halfway between my home and my former place of employment.

I search my e-mail and there it is too. And then I check out the photos, which some are the same.

First, I do a screen capture of his profile (turns out to be a good thing). Then, I e-mail BtmCatcherATL Open-New-Window-External letting him know I’ve visited his home before.

At first, he denies we’d ever chatted and that people had sent people to his home.

Then I send him his e-mail address. FYI, if you ever have an e-mail conversation with clemsonscott1993@gmail.com, don’t trust it. He’s another catfish and the same as BtmCatcherATL Open-New-Window-External.

He blocks me.

Busted.

BtmCatcherATL or clemsonscott1993@gmail.com's profile on BBRT

PostScript

I do have his face photo (which you can sort of see but I purposely didn’t highlight in the profile above). I have a huge version from the e-mail exchange. However, I’m not convinced it’s the person who’s sending the e-mails. As for ass photos, I don’t know and they’re not identifiable.

I just want my top friends in Atlanta to beware of this man.

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Stealth Bomb: What It Is, What It Isn’t, How It Works

Stealth Bomb: What It Is, What It Isn’t, How It Works

Every hook-up begins practically the same way — an ad posted somewhere. I’m very blunt about being a top and fucking a load. But stupid dumbwits that bottoms can tend to be, I’ll often get this e-mail, text or message shortly after I provide my address:

Do you have supplies? Condoms? Lube?

What? When did it become my responsibility to always supply the condoms and lube?

I think bottoms consider themselves ladylike. They’re the bitches. They need to be wined and dined and then they’ll give up their pussy if they’re feeling it. And the man pays. The top needs to foot all the fucking costs.

If I’m feeling up to talking, I might actually respond that my spit works well enough for lube and that’s all we need (we’ll talk about these dumbfucks in a minute). If I’m not, I’ll say, “Sure, come on.”

So the bitch arrives and we start the play. Sitting out on the bedside table is a condom and lube. But I don’t plan on using either. And funny thing about the vibe of what’s going on, usually the bottom won’t ask for it either. I can eat their little cunt and have them groaning for my cock without a condom and with spit as lube. Sometimes I don’t even need to eat them out. I just lay back and let the little bitch do the work. He’ll sit on my cock without asking for anything.

I guess I have that kind of vibe that just causes them to go for it.

If, at some point, they insist on a condom, I will do one of two things. If they’re hot, I’ll use my prepared condom, sliced open at the tip.

Following the standard, non-porn method of putting on a condom, you pinch the tip (therefore covering up the hole) and roll it over the cock. Lube things up and slide it into the ass. I don’t roll it all the way and use some lube on the raw cock. Then I can pull the condom down and expose my raw cockhead inside.

If the guy isn’t that hot, I send him on his way. Chances are, he’ll ask if he can suck me off. I’ll tell him he’s not that good at sucking cock and I can’t get off by his sucking. Nine times out of 10, I’ll end up fucking him raw. Rarely does he leave without my load in his gut.

Thing is, BOTTOMS NEVER BRING THEIR OWN CONDOMS.

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Why Bottoms Never Have a Condom

Why do you cheat on your diet? Why do you accidentally say someone else’s name when you’re fucking your boyfriend? It’s a little bigger than a Freudian slip.

Bottoms want to be barebacked. Subconsciously, they want it raw. They know what they’re built for — being used for the top to get off.

Let’s be frank and straightforward about this shit and stop beating around the bush. Bottoms are little dogs in heat. Their cunts itch for cock and cum. They’re not satisfied.

The argument is that they put their trust in a top. Well, for the most part, they’ve just been e-mailing someone who’s been lying about their age, weight, stats and name. They chose to fuck someone based on a blurry cell phone photo or two that’s probably a few years old. They drive to an address and meet, surprised a little when the door opens and the two of them take a look at each other and go, “Oh well, what the fuck? I’m here now.”

I don’t know about you, but my wallet, keys and valuables are hidden. I escort my visitor from the door to the bedroom and back out.

If this is the type of person who’s willing to trust and fuck, who’s to say what he does with others?

He didn’t bring a condom, what’s to say it’s my job to assure his safety? It’s his responsibility if he wants to protect his ass to do exactly that — protect his ass. I’m intent on one goal. Fucking and getting off. I will do it the way I want best.

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What Happens When I Reveal I Only Bareback Online

Sometimes I don’t feel like going through the machinations of the stealth. So I don’t. I just tell the bottom I only bareback.

Funny thing: They still want to come over.

I could cut and paste literally hundreds of conversations. Here’s one from a Craigslist ad two days ago when I sought people to come over to “go to pound town.” This is all true, word for word.

BTM: I am interested. Vgl biwm. 32w 185 looking for 11:30ish. Face pic? Location?

ME: pics for trade

BTM: yours? (Note: He sends a pic of himself way far away. You couldn’t see him very well.)

ME: Since we’re playing games. (Note: I shrink a photo of myself so small you can’t see me and send it.)

BTM: No games. Try another pic. I am on the right. (Note: It’s a better photo but the image is upside down, so I can’t tell which “right” he’s talking about.)

ME: Is that on the right UPSIDE DOWN or RIGHT-SIDE UP? (Note: I turn the photo around the right way and send his photo back to him. One guy is a reject. The other is okay.)

BTM: Black shirt. You have a face pic? Looking in about 30 min. (Note: He’s not the reject.)

ME (Note: No text. I send a face pic.)

BTM: You hosting? Where? Safe only. You have supplies? I can leave now. I am in (mentions a part of town).

ME: I only bareback.

BTM: Sorry. Safe here only.

(24 minutes passes)

BTM: You positive you are clean?

ME: I’m positive.

BTM: K. I really need to be fucked. Where are you located?

Let me also note the stupidity of the bottom’s question and how I’m able to answer his question. He asks, “Are you positive you are clean?” I am able to honestly reply, “I’m positive.”  The double meaning is intended. To a judge or jury or prosecutor, I could simply have shown this to tell them that I informed the dumbass of my status. It has both meanings. Note he’s not bothered to tell me his either and not clarified when and if I’ve ever been tested.

And I’m not saying what my status is.

FYI, this bottom was too dumb for me to fuck. I didn’t.

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Adult Bookstores, Sex Clubs and Stealth Fucking

If you go to an adult bookstore or sex club and you are a bottom, bring a spotter with you. Or simply, do not get fucked there. It’s that simple. You are not in control of you and your environment. You cannot trust the people and what’s happening.

If a bottom puts a condom on me and turns his back, I will take it off. Good bottoms constantly check for a condom, but that doesn’t really matter. Breaking a condom is very easy.

Using the porn method of putting on a condom, you stretch out the condom with both hands and pop a finger up inside it to place over the cock in a swift movement. If the bottom is a cheap one and bought his rubbers on the way in, they’re usually the ones very easy to poke that finger through. That way, the head pokes through the top and the  shaft of the cock remains sheathed so if the bottom checks for a condom, it appears to be there.

If the condom is heavy duty, a snap or two of the tip with a good pinch should work to break the tip

Real simple as a bottom. You really want the condom on the top, you purchase the condoms. You purchase the lube. You put the condom on the top. You guide the cock into your ass. You face the top at all times.

Unless you’re actually dating the guy, do not trust a random fuck.

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Bottom Techniques for Stealthing

Yes, bottoms stealth too. If you’re a top, you might think you have all the advantages if you’re going to play the safer sex game. Not so. I know a lot of bottoms who have developed some sophisticated tricks to assure a raw load in their ass — fulfilling for those who really like getting the cum where it belongs.

Bottoms planning to meet up with any condom-wearing tops will often douche their asses full of petroleum-based lubricants, so even tops who bring their own condoms and lube might not know the seed of deceit is planted already. Good friction and petroleum jelly will break down a condom depending on the thickness and quality. A top in control of the bottom would notice but if a talented bottom rides the top, he might not. Keeping the top distracted (and feeling good) is key to this one working.

Of course, slicing the tip off a condom or cutting a hole always works, but what if the top brings his own condoms. The best technique for this is the tip-biter.

A well-cleaned out bottom will switch things up and go ass to mouth… get fucked a while and then suck the cock. This takes a little practice but the bottom, using a little coordination between his hands and mouth can suck an come to the repository tip, using his sharper canine teeth to poke holes or bite through while holding the shaft to prevent a snap back so the top won’t notice. Then guides it back to the hole.

Gloryhole action makes it easier. Nail-clipping scissors are perfect for a quick snip of the tip then guide it into the asshole until the breeding happens.

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Crucify Me

Today, Cristian Knox — a bareback pornography videographer I happen to respect and enjoy — called me a “con man” for what I do when it comes to stealthing. I’ve also been called a sociopath, criminal, threatened to be killed and many other names. You need to go back in my blog to read these, but they’re there. I softened my stealthing content in the recent year to make it more palatable for fucktards who miss the point of what I’m saying.

And chances are, if you are enraged by now, you won’t comprehend what I write anyway. You’ve made up your mind.

I am a top. I am responsible for my orgasm. I am responsible for my cock. I don’t give a fuck about your orgasm or your asshole. If I stick my cock into your ass raw, I realize what I am risking by doing so.

If you’re a bottom, it’s your responsibility to take care of yourself. Not mine. There’s no tacit contract between us. All I’m promising is that, if I find you appealing enough, I will shove my hard cock into your ass and I will work myself up into shooting a load.

That’s it.

So you all get pissed off that humanity has some sort of responsibility toward each other, I’d like to introduce you to the real world and how it really works out there. It’s not fantasy land where we all get a safe word and the mugger stops mugging you when you say, “Banana.” Nope.

I’ve written about my life in detail, including my molestation. You know what, I stopped that myself. No adult helped me. No one recognized it. And you know what, I don’t blame the man who abused me for my lot in life either. That’s why it’s written here. I have embraced it as who it made me into.

I’ll bitch about shit that’s happened to me that I don’t think is fair, like getting fired for being Gay. When I’m performing well and bringing millions into the company for which I worked, I don’t think a piss-ant asshole boss should have the power he did to fire me. But you know what, it’s cause the little fucker is surrounded by a bunch of bottoms who allow him to dominate.

I learned that lesson well.

I’ve been stealthing since 2003. I’ve been writing about it. You hate me, don’t read it, don’t fuck me. It’s fine. We don’t have to be friends. But you know what, if you’re a barebacker, then why the fuck does it matter. We’re on the same team. We’re going to bareback anyway. So there.

Get over it. I’m sure there’s things you do that others don’t like.

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