Tag Archives: confusion

Open Letter: Putting Bottoms on Notice

Open Letter: Putting Bottoms on Notice

Dear Bottoms:

I think there’s been a little confusion of late. Maybe the tops who you’ve found have been a little too nice, although I’d probably attribute it to the fact they’ve been sucked into the heterocentric sensitivity training of taking care of the wife or some other bullshit. Or maybe there’s too much of the Housewives of Wherever-The-Fuck on TV, showing the women getting all uppity on their men.

That or some queeny, bitch-ass bottom started a movement that they’ve got the hole so they get to be large and in charge.

As I’ve been communicating with a few of your compatriots who want cocks and cum, I’m getting these demands. I’m being told — not requested, but ordered — to provide certain items. These include but are not limited to the following:

  • Face photograph
  • Full body shots
  • Videos of me fucking
  • Recent paperwork showing my HIV and STI/STD status

In most if not all of these cases, the bitch who’s making these demands is not providing any of these to me and, for the most part, gives me some line of bullshit that he’s “assuming all the risk.”

If I could reach through the Internet lines and grab you by the balls, bend you over and rape you lubeless, I would.

Additionally, I am getting a lot of feedback with which the precision a bottom wishes to be fucked. One said that I must only fuck him on his back, I must kiss him and, of course, he wants me to pull out and cum on his face.

In all of the preceding cases, I have declined to fuck them.

While I might entertain an occasional request from a bottom, that ass and body is there for my pleasure. If the bottom gets something out of it, good for you. I rarely give a fuck. But if a bottom seems particularly receptive to my fucking, I’ll be glad to make sure he gets to cum.

Good news is if I’m really enjoying myself, often the bottom will just cum on his own.

Here’s a little reminder of the 11 Commandments for a True Bottom. These were written by a bottom for all bottoms.

If you have a problem with this, please do me the kindness and fuck off.

Otherwise, I look forward to hearing from you.


Mark Bentson aka iBLASTinside
Twitter @iBLASTinside
BarebackRT Profile
E-mail iBLASTinside@gmail.com

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Dark Passengers Series

Dark Passenger: A Murky Beginning

I don’t recall exactly why. Seems like my mother had to go to the doctor or something medical. On a summer’s day in the South, the perfect solution seemed to be letting the kids go to the nearby lake with neighbors.

Not just a small lake. This one had several access points and so the “beach” attracted dozens of people. An older man and woman — very distant relatives of ours — picked my little sister and me.

Who knows the exact date, but I’m guessing 1978. My memories fade from extremely blurry to crystal sharp, so forgive the moments in between. It’s as if some of my memories live beneath the murky lake water where it started and then emerges as it gets closer to the surface until it breaks and emerges above the surface. And then I can see what happened. But more than see it, I can feel it. It’s not just the sensation of him but also the confusion and conflicts I felt every moment of that day. Drawn to stay in the water and allow him to touch me.

I remember us going into the men’s changing area and him teasing me. At the time, he was probably in his early 40s with a respectable body — big wide chest with a little hair, more than six feet tall and a long angular face. We changed.

As an awkward, not very athletic child, my photographs show me as lanky, too thin with a bowl-cut for a haircut. Indistinct. At least this occurred prior to the plague of acne would take away my smooth ivory skin.

Playing in the water with my sister and others probably was the norm. But the moment his strong arms wrapped around me, I didn’t move much. I’m shy by nature and, back then, even more so. At some point, a game of swimming beneath the water’s surface and between each other’s legs occurred. At first, just a brush. Then a little more obvious. My cock ached beneath the surface of the water.

As I would swim beneath his legs, under that crotch, I remember him making sure to push me down and toward his cock. I know I felt it, but it would be months before I really touched or saw it.

My cock pulsed harder than ever. I’d felt it like this in the gym when we did something called “donuts,” lying flat on our stomach and lifting our legs and shoulders off the floor so our tummies and crotches were the only thing on the gym floor. It would be years later before I’d realize the dry orgasms I’d had everyday in gym, looking forward to this “exercise.” So much so, I’d do it at home on my own.

As my cock ached, my sister retired to the beach with the wife and we were alone. I didn’t dare return to shore. Unsure whether I wanted to stay here, in the water, with this man I barely knew. But something kept me there. Something in the back of my mind. Something that made me fantasize about Tarzan rescuing me from the jungle and carrying me to safely against his bare chest and in his strong arms.

That fantasy seemed to turn reality, as he stood behind me and took me deeper into the water but held me safely in his arms. Around my back, his hands rested on my bathing suit shorts. Right on my cock. He stroked me through the thin fabric.

I remember his hot breath on my neck. The only words about what was happening beneath the murky surface, “Do you like this?”

I hesitated. How should I answer this question? What should I say?

I stuck my face into the water and screamed into it, “I don’t know.” Only bubbles emerged and I swam away.

When we changed to go home, I found a stall by myself. I made sure not to be alone with him. I stayed quiet and distant. I do remember getting ice cream — an orange cream “push up” as they were called.

Only recently do I recall these details. If you want to know, the man lives — still a neighbor to my mother. He suffers from cancer and Alzheimer’s. My stories do not end here, but my next memory occurs in the winter. I’m not certain if I’ve somehow blacked out some of those moments or perhaps there’s no memory because nothing happened.

But it began at a lake in murky waters. He touched me. I was changed.

Deceptively Fun #1: The Story Begins

Deceptively Fun #1: The Story Begins

Don’t know when I stopped caring, but I don’t. It’s all about the fuck. It’s all about feeling good. And I don’t fucking care any other way.

I say and do what I need to and I always get rewarded with ass. Well, almost always. There’s still plenty of ass I turn down. But I can be charming, naive, dominant, friendly or anything as long as my cock finds its way to a tight — or tight enough — pucker.

As for condoms, most guys may claim they want “safe sex,” but if you eat their ass out just enough and then poise the cock at the hole, you don’t even need to push. The bottom will push back onto my throbbing hard seven-and-a-half inches.

And I really do have seven-and-a-half inches. First, the nine-inches or more is fucking hard to find and, in many cases, guys with meat that huge are usually bottoms. If you are lucky enough to find a top with such a large endowment, chances are the cock is more sponge-like than rock-like.

Mine is solid. You have NO DOUBT there’s a cock inside you. Moreover, my talents extend further. Once I am hard, I STAY HARD. I mean, I can shoot a load and keep fucking. I’ve done that numerous times and not even told the bottom. As long as I keep thrusting, they have no idea I’ve shot a load DEEP INTO THEIR ASS.

That’s one of my favorites for the so-called “safe” fuckers who back down on my cock. “Please, don’t cum in my ass,” they’ll request. Of course, I always make a special effort to cum shortly after my cock slides inside, then I keep fucking them and cum a second time on their back or wherever. But about half the time, they end up asking — no, begging — for it in their ass.

Should you enjoy the pleasures of cum in ass, I have a special treat. You see, my cock has a life of its own. With a good fuck, I slam that last stroke home and hold still. The bottom will feel my cock swell and then THROB LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER. Dude, you have NO IDEA the reaction this gets.

Bottoms will beg for it again and again if they can FEEL a guy shoot. With me, they can.

So I should round out my description a little more.

I’m 36, 6-feet 3-inches tall, 185 pounds with brown hair and green eyes. I have a little chin fuzz, which adds a little something to my nerdy appearance. Seeing me on the street (or online), you’d never suspect I’ve fucked more than 5,000 asses. hell, I have NO IDEA how many men I have fucked.

So let’s move on since we’re done with all the introductory shit.

The guy is 20 years old, black, slender and about 5-foot 10-inches. He’s a bottom, of course, and asked if I would fuck him. We were both online, him hiding his pics until I sent him my e-mail address. I don’t go looking for twentysomethings. Hell, I don’t even approach guys under 30. The twinks (and let’s face it, at that age they’re almost ALL twinks) generally fuck their own.

When I was in my early thirties, I never seemed to attract guys in their twenties. Now, that’s all I seem to hear from. A gift for turning 36 or something, I guess.

So he comes over, and we start the usual thing. He sucks my cock, he eats my ass, he licks my balls (which really gets my juices running). I return the favor, at a minimum. He sucked me for something like 15 minutes and I make it from his cock to asshole in two.

This is where I spend my time. I know how to eat ass and do it well. I get the chin fuzz involved and really work my tongue into that tangy pucker. He’s all moaning and shit, now begging for it.

I always ignore the first time they ask for a condom.

I move up and start kissing him deeply, letting him taste his own ass. My wet cockhead is pushing at his hole the first time he asks. Again, I never push forward. He is hesitating. I know he wants to, but he asks for a condom again.

They look like ordinary condoms. Hell, they are. Even good on the expiration date, if anyone bothered to check. But here’s the trick. Put them in your car in sunlight. Let the whole box heat up good and hot. And it needs to be for a few days. A week is best. Just for good measure, sometimes I bring them in from the heat and freeze them too.

Always test one from the batch. The trick should be for them to slip on like any other condom. Over the head and everything. Some smart bottoms always check the tip. But once you start fucking, they only check the base.

With enough practice, you will find the right amount of heat and all that will cause the condom head to split open. I’ve got it good enough that by the fourth or fifth thrust, my head is out. A few minutes in, the entire top half of my cock is plunging into his hole.

Damn this boy was hot and loving my cock. He reaches back every once in a while and feels the cock going into his hole. Sometimes they check for the condom and breath a sign of relief when they feel it.

Not him. He wants my cock deeper inside him. He’s opening his ass up as wide as it will go. He takes a snort of poppers and starts begging for me to really plug him.

He’s such a thin boy. A slight amount of effort gets his haunches up higher so I can slam his ass. I can see my bare cock come out and go back into his hole, glistening with the lube, spit, my precum and his ass juices. I really start giving it to him.

Without touching himself, he begins to shoot. I feel his ass clamp down onto my cock. So I let loose. A couple more plunges and I am there. I bury my cock deep inside and start releasing my load. His eyes get wide. He can feel it too. FUCK it feels good. My cock is throbbing, swelling and pumping, releasing my juices deep into his gut. I ride the high as long as I can. He does too.

Then you see the confusion. It FEELS different, I know. As out breathing begins to relax, he reaches back to grab the cock base and hold the condom in place. My hand wraps around his and I pull the condom off.

I become attentive. My spunk is dribbling out of his ass, so I grab a handy towel and wipe it up, then clean him up and point him toward the bathroom, being gentlemanly.

This is where I always win the deception. When he returns, I am fully ready for the question: “Hey, did the condom break?”

“Nope,” I say. Sometimes when I jerk off alone, I use a normal, unaltered condom, deposit a load there, add enough lube and a bit of brown matter (if needed) and you have “evidence” of a unbroken condom. Store it in plastic baggies to keep it “fresh” enough. The bathroom trip always gives you enough time to make the switch.

I show it to him and he relaxes.

“Damn, dude, that was fucking hot. I have NEVER felt someone cum like that before,” he says.

I just smile.

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