Tag Archives: cell phone

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.

What people are searching to find this page::

  • dark room sauna (4)
  • what happen in dark room and gloryhole (2)
  • ibiman gay (2)
  • anonymous gay blowjob club (1)
  • gay gloryhole ass fuck (1)
  • gay poz stealth (1)
  • iexist forcock/tumblr com (1)
  • men of adult bookstore tumblr (1)
  • muscle gods at gay glory holes (1)
  • open air gay orgy blog (1)
What Is Rape?

What Is Rape?

I get a fucking lot of accusations in my inbox. Often. Here’s one of the more interesting:

When I was 18, a top I met off phone chat had me come to his place. When I arrived, he was much older than described…

I get inside he immediately grabs my head and slams it against door then rapes me raw. He degraded me racially, calling me nasty Asian slurs.

After he was done, he hid my cell phone and keys and kept me for 15 days.

I was used as sex slave to pay for his meth addiction and infected. A black man felt bad and freed me — the only one out of 65 RAPISTS.

I went to police and he was arrested. But [during my captivity], he sent texts to his cell from mine saying everything was consensual AND IT WASN’T.

He now walks free and I hate him and, because of [the AIDS] virus, I no longer date.

I hate you, Mark, and all other violent predators.

For some of you perverts out there (and you know I love you all), you’re jerking off just thinking about this scenario. But let’s get to this Asian gentleman’s message to me and splice it apart, step by step.

Rape Is Bad

I do not believe this story. Here’s why I don’t:

If this 18-year-old gentleman disappeared for 15 days, his family, friends or others would have noticed. Sure, this violent man might have created some text messages back and forth, but those messages would have occurred after the disappearance. Any cell phone records could show that.

Further, in many states, to knowingly pass along HIV is criminal. HIV maintains a portion of the DNA from the source. A test could determine whether the victim was indeed infected by the older man.

I believe the consent likely came from this young man before the disappearance. He told some friends and family he would be gone a while — probably not 15 days — and after a while, came not to like the scene he’d fantasized about because the reality wasn’t quite and fun as the jerk off images.

I’ve seen that often and any of you with any level of kinks would agree.

Nonetheless, if I suspend my disbelief, let me just say if this is true, this is bad.

Let me also suggest to the writer that — unlike my website, which is about sex — that the guy who kidnapped you and held you captive, did that violent act to you. It wasn’t the sex, but the power play that you didn’t like (and the fact he was older than he initially said).

Safety in Hook-Ups

The dear letter writer made a gigantic boo-boo, for which he fails to take accountability. And I get so fucking tired of hearing this shit from people who read some of my posts.

Every time someone goes to a stranger’s home or hotel room or wherever to fuck, you’re taking a risk. Didn’t mamma teach you not to talk to strangers, much less fuck them (or let them fuck you)?

Gay men … damn, all men … love casual sex. We let our cocks put us into places we shouldn’t be. I’ve been there. And this guy ended up some place he shouldn’t have been.

Do not blame anyone else for that.

I’m not saying he dressed slutty so he should have been raped or anything like that. He didn’t deserve to be held hostage for 15 days — if indeed, that’s what happened.

But he’s not innocent.

He want to blame the car for hitting him head on when he was already driving on the wrong side of the road. He did something dangerous.

Fucker beware

I No Longer Date

Oh. My. God. Being Poz prevents this little fucker from dating.

All of you Poz guys out there need to stop dating, stop fucking and curl up into a ball and just shit yourselves.

Another reason not to believe this story: The idea that life ends with seroconversion. Hell, for some, becoming Poz means life begins. No longer worried about when HIV might arrive, but knowing that it’s now there with you.

(As an aside, I’m impressed the dude also counted all 65 guys who fucked him.)

If indeed this is true, let me speak to you, my Asian letter writer:

You need to speak with a professional and go into counseling for this trauma.

You need to find a way to move on, date and find a way to heal. The amount of pent up hate you’ve gathered up into yourself is preventing you from seeing that life continues. You survived something terrible but not everyone is out to hurt you.

Jumping Off the Hate Cliff

Now he says I am out to hurt him. I’m some sort of predator.

I’m not. Never have been.

If you’re upset about the stealthing thing, I’ve explained it time and time again and don’t really need to do it again.

If you’re upset that I use bottoms, all tops do whether they admit it or not.

I just think you’re upset. And once the proper counseling is in place, you’ll be better off.

I didn’t fuck you. I didn’t abduct you. I didn’t hold you hostage. Don’t hate me.

What people are searching to find this page::

  • asian gay tumblr (35)
  • Asian bareback (18)
  • stealth breeding confessions (4)
  • bareback stealthing videos (3)
  • toxic gay stealthing website (2)
  • stealth poz load dont care (2)
  • Gay Titch jones cumshot gallery of moving pics (2)
  • poz me tumblr (1)
  • poz gay raw tumblr (1)
  • roid poz pigs tumblr (1)
The Catfish Phenomenon

The Catfish Phenomenon

Manti Te'o ShirtlessPoor football player. A big athlete falls in love with a “girl” and gets fooled into a three-year “relationship” over the internet and phone, then we all discover it’s fake. The humiliation of this isn’t enough, but to find out later the jock’s been fooled by a male “Christian singer who tried out for ‘The Voice.'”

Shocking?

Fuck no.

It just finally happened prominently, in the public eye. And Manti Te’o, the Notre Dame football player eventually to turn pro and hoping to save his career, got forced to admit his ignorance publicly.

He’s just a dumb jock.

I’ve had catfish galore. You would think I have a catfish farm and raise them.

Here’s a pic of the most recent attempt to dupe me. When I told the little fucker that no, his picture was all over the Internet and that it first appeared on a particular website, this was the porn name it appeared under, etc., the guy admitted the truth.

That’s not always the case.

My Most Recent Catfish Attempt

Catfish are, for the most part, dedicated to their craft. The most recent one that really caught my attention supposedly lived in Washington, D.C., with a Pennsylvania phone number. He served as a hooker, allowing older men to pound his ass mercilessly or some would pay simply to beat the shit out of him — according to the stories he would tell.

He was introduced to the world of escorting by, none other than his father, who taught him to take cock around 9 years old. Now at 19, he was a cumslut. Men would come over and pay upward of $200 each to dump a load in his smooth ass.

Problem is, three years ago, according to his Twitter account, he was 19 then also. Of course, his explanation to me was at that time he was lying. Now he was telling me the truth.

I’d figured out early on he lied a lot, but I carried on the “relationship” much longer than I wanted or even could tolerate simply to see how dedicated he would be to his character. He was unrelenting. Excuses for every inconsistency of his story and, when I asked for explanation, he would turn around to attack me for not trusting him.

So very clever.

I successfully got three photos out of him over about a month, but I could never get him to produce a candid photo in a pose I requested. That, to me, is the tell-tell sign of someone almost real. Of course, one of the original catfish I dealt with was a female Wal-Mart manager who had a minor male employee pose for her photos. She would have him call to leave voice mails as well. But I never spoke to him live.

How do you determine a catfish?

  1. Surprise phone calls. Calls should be answered at all times. If you’re in a “relationship” then a 3 a.m. emergency call shouldn’t be a big deal once in a while. If your calls seem to go to voice mails whenever you call, then you’ve got an issue.
  2. Special requests. Send them a t-shirt or red shorts or something like that in the mail. The day they get it, ask them to wear it, take a photo of themselves doing some sort of pose. Expect the photo within 5 minutes. Excuses like, “I’m at work right now,” or, “I work for the government, they don’t allow me to do that,” or, “I’m on my work phone, I can’t do that,” or, “My cell phone camera is broken, I need to do it at home,” is a sure sign that something is wrong! (Think about it, you sent the gift to their home; they received it at home; why are they suddenly at work?)
  3. Google. Google names, numbers, address and photos. Keep in mind you do need to pay for anything (there will be offers that pop up). Generally, you can glean enough information to find out whether a phone number is a cellular provider or whether it’s a virtual number that’s forwarding to a cell (using Skype or Google Voice). Be smart about phone numbers and locations. Talk about the weather. My guy in D.C. did keep up with the weather in Washington, even though his number was in Pennsylvania. If there’s a delay about what the weather happens to be, you know it’s the case. When searching the name, which many are common, check to determine whether someone has all the common accounts, not just the ones with whom you connect. Sure, creating a fake Facebook is one thing. Is he on LinkedIn? Unless he’s a hooker, you should find a LinkedIn account. And had Manti Te’o searched his “girlfriend’s” photo, he would have found she wasn’t real.
  4. Use logic and track the stories. On detective shows, you’ll often see the big bulletin boards with people’s photos and strings. You must create a virtual one of your own. Who’s his father and mother? What’s their names? Where do they live? Google. Brothers and sisters? Names? Google. College? Google. Old friends. Nowadays, we all leave a trace. For my D.C. catfish, he’d not been out at local bars for about a year. He made the mistake of being friends with a bouncer at a local gay bar — one that had closed recently. When I asked about the crowd, the bouncer, with whom I was supposedly texting while the hooker got fucked in another room, answered like he’d been working. Told me about his bosses. Stupid stuff. Yet I knew the club was closed and had been. Of course, the catfish denied the whole thing and said I was speaking with someone else who lied to me. Both entities just had a tendency to misspell the same words.
  5. Surprise visits. Nothing else shocks the shit out of a catfish like a live visit Opens a new window from this blog. Just telling one you’re coming to visit and that you’ve booked a trip will get the response you need to know. If the suspected catfish is prepared to meet, then maybe it’s for real. But likely, they’re “not ready” for that face-to-face encounter, even just for lunch. Hang the fuck up and move on.

Catfish are people too

Manti Te'o Hoaxer Ronaiah Tuiasosopo ShirtlessI get dozens of e-mails and IMs and text messages from people who want to meet me. I am so very flattered. But far too many never truly want to meet. We call them flakes, of course. We all know them for how they really treat us because, legitimately, they’re not willing to meet.

I cannot begin to shrink them. Too many people have tried to shrink me, to diagnose my own dysfunctions. However, within this world, something is missing that current relationships just cannot seem to meet so they need to create a persona to find a way to fulfill that need.

With Ronaiah Tuiasosopo, the catfish for Manti Te’o, he’s attempting a career in the Christian singing world and he’s a former football player. My guess — and I am speaking with no special knowledge — is he can’t find a way to reconcile his homosexuality with his Christianity yet. By creating a female, it worked. As angry as people are at Ronaiah Tuiasosopo, I hope he figures out he’s gay and finds a big, butch man to fuck him the way he needs it.

Catfish will thrive

[alert style=”white”] They used to tank cod from Alaska all the way to China. They’d keep them in vats in the ship. By the time the codfish reached China, the flesh was mush and tasteless. So this guy came up with the idea that if you put these cods in these big vats, put some catfish in with them and the catfish will keep the cod agile. And there are those people who are catfish in life. And they keep you on your toes. They keep you guessing, they keep you thinking, they keep you fresh. And I thank god for the catfish because we would be droll, boring and dull if we didn’t have somebody nipping at our fin.
—”Catfish,” 2010[/alert]

Catfish are here to keep us on our toes, or that’s what the documentary that originated the pop culture term suggests. I’m not so convinced. But in today’s impersonal, digital world, it seems to me we all need those connections that cannot be achieved in person for fear of reprisals.

How do you deal with catfish when you discover one? A true catfish can never be trusted. Never. You can’t. And generally, I’ve found the catfish never breaks character. They’re bound to their character. When I discovered one catfish and their real life, I contacted many people from real life including significant other, friends, relatives and more. A catfish is convincing in their real life too and stays dedicated to that character. Each did not believe the strange story I told.

But eventually, they would see it was true. I hope that catfish found a way to get some help and to stop living in fantasy land.

Like everyone else, I crave realness. I think if you bareback, that may be another reason why we do so. We don’t want to keep the distance between two human beings, even if it’s two-millimeters thick in plastic. We want that connection. For barebackers, we put it all out there, exposed. For catfish, they don’t. It’s all murky.

What people are searching to find this page::

  • gay poz bareback (24)
By a Cell Phone Light…

By a Cell Phone Light…

The choices in an adult bookstore — at least the adult bookstore here in Atlanta Opens a new window from this blog — includes gloryholes Opens a new window from this blog, private rooms and a darkroom. Those are one’s three choices to indulge in the hedonism.

The holiday season hadn’t invaded this place. Not even the music bothered to pulse with any musical beat beyond the normal dance jams with more urban tones. I’d made a couple of loops. My cock had been stroked and sucked through a gloryhole or two. The private rooms had been occupied a lot. I’d had enough time to find the men in whom I wanted to see my cock slide first.

Among them, a beefy Latino, wide chest, short and stout. Look like a good chest. But his favorite destination seemed to be the darkroom.

Now I don’t tend to favor the darkroom. It isn’t because I don’t enjoy darkrooms. However, trolls lurk there.

Some of you younger bucks may be asking, “What are trolls?”

Trolls tend to be older men (but can be of any age) who horn in on others having good sex and make it bad.

Age honestly has nothing to do with a troll, but trolls simply suck at sex (not in a good way) and they can’t figure out how to improve their sexual prowess. Yet they insist on entering into others’ fun and ruining it for all. In fact, trolls seem to delight in this.

No matter how ugly, how old, how black, how brown, how young or whatever one’s lot in life, your ass should be pink and juicy on the inside. Within certain constraints Opens a new window from this blog, I will fuck and breed you. But trolls are off limits.

I politely push them away. Some are more persistent than others. Those will ruin a fuck.

Back to the hot, stout Latino in the military haircut wearing the unfortunate white, striped sweater.

A little tip: If you’re going a place with a darkroom, choose dark clothes and don’t wear anything with a logo so people can recognize you.

I followed him into the room. As I entered, it took a moment for me to make out the shadows of the men. His was the shortest, of course, over near the corner and I moved toward him, brushing up against him. He responded in kind and reached for my crotch. I unbuttoned and before long he was down on his knees sucking.

His technique lacked focus and he couldn’t go deep, even with someone like me who didn’t really challenge anyone. My cock is just at seven inches, so my cockhead will just touch the back of most people’s throats. Sure, you’ll gag but it’s not like I’ll really stop you from breathing.

He kept his head bobbing shallow, supplementing with his hands and even licked my balls, which I loved. I completely dropped my trousers (all my valuables were locked in the car) so other men were feeling my ass and even one went down to share a lick on my balls. It wasn’t bad.

I tried to hint to my little guy I wanted ass, bending over and reaching into the gap in his jeans where his ass crack happened to be. I would touch his smooth ass. But he kept sucking.

In this darkness, I wasn’t the only one getting sucked. Darkness inspires whispers and silence for some reason. I’m a quiet guy anyway.

But there arose such a clatter, I snapped my head around to see what’s the matter.

A black man with an obviously large cock snapped on his cell phone to look down at his huge pipe entering the ass of a beefy white man wearing what looked like a black jockstrap.

“Yea, man, give me that fucking ass,” he exclaimed in a deep, gravely voice. A masculine man, the kind of downlow fucker you’d see on Sally Jesse Raphel and fucking this quiet white bottom raw. “This is a good fucking ass!”

It was across the room from me with four or five other men between me, so shadows would occasionally obscure what I could see. But the fuck noises were obvious. My little Latino continued to suck but I had my eyes firmly planted on what was going on across the room.

And I wanted that ass next.

The black fucker just got to pummeling that ass. The slapping of thighs to ass got louder and I pulled my cock away, bored by the half-hearted ministrations by the Latino. If he were smart, he’d stand, then bend over and drop his jeans.

He stood and continued to reach for my cock. I zipped up and moved toward the light of the door, but keeping an eye on the fucking.

The grunt and fuck noises just got louder. In the pale light, you could see the bottom now bracing himself against the wall and the top just letting the fucker have it.

“You’re going to get my nut!” the black man practically yelled. And then he did. “ARRRRRHHHHGGGGG!!!”

He let loose what had to be a torrent of cum into that white booty. He fucked it a few more times.

“Fuck man, I gotta sit down,” he said. “I’m fucking weak in the knees from that.”

The cell phone switched off at that moment but he sat down where the light from the doorway showed his cock, a thick nine inches, as the bottom turned around, hefted it up and sucked it clean.

By now, my Latino had moved next to me and was reaching inside my zipper. But I wanted that loaded ass.

Fortunately for me, afterward, the white bottom moved by me to go toward the corner I’d vacated. I reached out and brushed my hand against his ass and followed.

It proved enough to get his attention.

The Latino had kept my cock up if the action hadn’t. The bottom reached around and gave my cock a tug, recognizing another hard cock. He then lined it up with his hole.

I just fucking love cum sluts.

The entry was smooth and easy after that other monster had vacated. And I moaned. As that escaped my lips, a familiar light came on. The black top hadn’t left and now his cell phone illuminated my cock inside this white ass.

It wasn’t going to be a long fuck.

“That’s a nice ass, ain’t it man?” He egged me on.

Truth is, I’ve had better. I don’t mind loose asses. This one was just nondescript. And the bottom had never learned to flex his muscles. I had to do all the work. As I reached up to get a grip, I grabbed what I thought would be his jock.

T’weren’t no jock. It was some cheap, polyester lingerie garter belt. Fuck, I’m so not into men dressing as women. And this guy is totally not the type of guy who would.

But my cock is in an ass, raw, and I’m churning up cum.

“Dude,” the black man spoke. “You fucking push me again, I’m going to knock your goddamned head off! You fucking understand me?”

Troll alert.

“Stand back and let the dude nut in his butt and we all can fucking watch.”

That’s my cue.

I snort some poppers and I let it go. I know I’m not as turned on as I should be but I keep my hands on the fleshy cakes and I try to tune out the trolls, knowing that I’m protected for the time being. I focus on popping and mixing it up in this bottom’s ass. Picking up the pace, slamming harder, giving it to him, punishing him for being a pussy in women’s underwear.

I cascade over the side and grunt a few times as my Latino is there, tickling my balls. Yes, he still wants my dick.

I cum. I half cum really. I shoot a load but it’s not fulfilling. I give the audience a good performance, knowing that I am injecting into his ass but I beef it up making sure it seems good, although more understated than my black ally.

By the time I pop out, another hard dick is lined up and he’s shooting by the time I’ve zipped up and left.

A little disgusted with myself that my powers of perception probably hoped that it was a black jockstrap rather than a black garter belt. I make another loop and I fuck a guy’s face for a while. He won’t offer me his ass, even telling me he watched me fuck that guy and that I can fuck him any other place but here.

And I bump into the black guy as he comments, “That was a mighty fine ass, wasn’t it man?”

“Yea, man,” I nod in agreement, now completely lying to him. “You have a good one.”

I head out. Half satisfied.

the lies men tell

The Lies Men Tell… Photos (Part 2)

Read Part One

Whether it’s a decade old photo or the time of our meeting, lying is the constant in the world of fucking. I have honed my own skills at determining who will be truthful and who will not.

For example, the veracity of photos provided by someone can be found in the details. A mole is here in this photo, can it be found there? Or does this photo include a Rubik’s cube and a cassette tape player in the background, indicating it’s clearly from the 1980s? Are the photos from a sequence (leading to further suspicion) or from different times and places? Do they look candid or professional?

Lately, the photo thing had struck a chord with me. I think the proliferation of Grindr, Scruff and other such sprouted more camera mavens insisting on evidence of legitimacy. One face pic is no longer adequate. I must provide multiples. Same with cock pics. Even more, to prove my prowess with fucking, I’ve been asked for video.

Not kidding.

Yes, more than once of late, people have insisted on video proof that I’m worth driving five miles for a fuck. I imagine soon I will need to begin to record myself throwing a few into an ass before anyone will believe I’m good at it.

Believe me, I have heard all the possible excuses on why some poor fucker doesn’t have a photo. No excuse. No more. If you’ve got a cell phone that doesn’t make photo, you’re a fucking idiot. Camera phone save lives and document moments that will forever be discussed on CNN. Your computer did not crash and destroy all your photos. And you can pretend you’re at work and have no photos there, but if so, what-the-fuck are you doing on Manhunt.net at that same company? Please. You’re just some self-hating fag.

Moreover, everyone in the photo trade had been burned one time too many. Some asswipe’s stiffed us and not sent us a pic, left us holding the bag and we, in turn, feel foolish for trusting. But that does not mean now you have the right to always go last in the trade.

All things equal, he who asks first, send first. No exceptions. If someone has posted an ad on Craigslist with a self-photo, that counts as a “sent photo.”

Otherwise, the bottom should send first. I don’t give a fuck if the bottom is 19 years old and hot as hell (or at least says he is).

  • If you unlock without any previous conversation, I’m under no obligation to unlock for you, even if you ask nicely. The whole unlock trade occurs with conversation, not independently.
  • If you show X-rated photos in your profile photos and then “unlock” photos, those unlocked ones should have a clearly available face pic. Else, I’m not obliged to unlock mine. If I unlocked mine first, you should e-mail me a clear face pic. Vice versa as well. If you show face, your locked pics should clearly show cock and/or ass.
  • The only time you have a right to “break the code” and not trade photos is when someone has egregiously lied. This means the following: A 20-year difference in age, a different race or completely different appearance. Otherwise, if you get a pic, you must respond with a pic. You’re welcome to tell the guy you’re not into him.
  • What you send is what you get. If you send me a tiny photo where you can’t see shit, I have the right to send you back a tiny photo where you can’t see shit. If your photo is blurry and you’re wearing sunglasses, I’m welcome to do the same.
  • Just because we both unlock photos does not mean we are meeting for a fuck. I believe in being fair. But my unlock doesn’t mean I’m suddenly into you.

I do study photos (as has been proven) and I can recognize when people lie. And most do lie.

On to Part Three, Test Results