Thursday I am horny and frustrated. This is a combination that, for me, is not good. I’m in one of those moods where I want to fuck anything that gets in my way. I’m on the look out for a sure thing.
When it finally arrives, it’s someone I recognize. He’s an extremely muscular massage therapist who provides not too bad bodywork. Where he’s located isn’t the most convenient. But he has a great body and this time he just wants to get fucked.
Allow me to be more specific. He had a great body.
The photos he sends are from a year back from when I last saw him. I’ll explain.
Our exchange 
on how to get to his place is brief and he says to come right in — not to even knock. I let him know I’m 20 minutes away. And right at 20 minutes, I’m at his door, pushing. It’s locked. I knock.
Shuffling begins inside.
“Wait up guy,” I hear. “Got to let the dogs out.”
In a few seconds, the door opens and it’s not dogs I see.
It’s three men. Just beyond the jocked muscle guy I’m expecting is a beefy bearish guy pulling up his pants, putting on a baseball cap and exiting out the door behind me. The second is a short, dorky, tattooed guy who sort of looks like Ian on Big Brother season 14. And he’s just in a pair of boxers.
I’m confused.
Then muscleman and I are alone as “Ian” is in the bedroom and the bear is gone out the door.
Muscleman has been on a diet. A radical one. He’s lost at least 50 pounds. I whip out my cock, not thinking too much, and slide it inside him. I’d been anticipating fucking him. His ass is slick already with cum. If bear had finished up, maybe muscleman was sucking him clean. Don’t know. Don’t care.
We’re fucking on his massage table and, let’s just say, it’s not working out. I can’t enter him deeply enough. He’s thinner but fuck if his asshole just isn’t positioned correctly.
And something is off about him. Something just isn’t right. This isn’t like the last time. Of course, the fuck occurred after a good rubdown, but I’m not getting something. He’s face down, of course. My suspicious rise.
I climb off about to leave when he’s up and on his knees, his mouth wrapped around my cock. It’s like he knows something is up. And I’ll admit, his sucking is primo. He even goes for my balls.
I finally decide I need to cum. If I go home in this condition, someone will get hurt until I can bust a load.
“Is anyone else coming over?” I ask.
“Nope,” he says between sucks.
I pull off my clothes.
He gets the signal.
“We need a bed,” he says.
And then we walk into the room where “Ian” is laying on half of the bed.
Now I hesitate, but he motions me in. “Ian” barely looks up as muscleman lays on the other half of the bed, ass up. This room is brightly lit, compared to the living room, which was dark.
I shrug. I’m naked, in an apartment, with a hardon and precum leaking out of my cock. I’m wondering if this is the beginning of a three-way.
Um… it turns out… no, it wasn’t.
Although “Ian” has removed his boxers and is laying on the bed naked with a softy, he spends the entire time texting. I crawl on muscleman. And through our fuck, I notice the signs. The fidgeting. And he’s at least a little smart about another thing. Since I’m flat on top of him, wherever my head is, he turns his head away to prevent noticing he’s chewing gum — an attempt not to grind his teeth.
His weight loss and all the symptoms point to Tina.
Fuck.
So my hard dick is up this tight, warm chute that’s preloaded and, despite the weight loss, he’s still got a good body. I wish “Ian” would get off his fucking phone and play with my balls but that’s not going to happen. And I’m frustrated and horny.
I fucking hate tweakers . Actually, I don’t hate them. I hate the kind of person who results from using too much Crystal Meth. But I still fuck them. I even had this severe crush on a guy a few years ago who had an addiction but he moved to Minneapolis. I fucked him plenty but actually wanted a real date and wanted to get to know him. He refused all my advances. But when he was high, he’d let me fuck him. And I’d let it happen.
I revised that policy with another man I met locally who wanted me to fuck him before going off to rehab. I didn’t. There are some bottoms I want to crave me when they’re wholly cognizant of what’s going on.
But at this moment, the dick is winning. There’s a little conflict in my head, but I know how to shut that up.
I snort some poppers.
The conflict ends and like a laser, my pleasure center kicks in to focus exclusively on my cock and how it feels inside that tight, cummy hole.
“You want my cum?”
“Yes please,” he says. “Please breed my ass.”
That’s all it takes. Soon I’m letting loose a torrent of DNA inside his ass.
After a moment of recover, I’m off and putting on my clothes.
“Ian” doesn’t seem to notice. Muscleman offers me water and invites me back anytime.
I’m being nice, but I won’t come back. This is one mating call I’ll ignore.
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22. I’ve converted
20. I still want to write and direct a porn movie
For some reason of late, I’ve been getting more and more visitors who find this whole “blog” thing foreign to them. Among the young men in Las Vegas who said he might be interested in being my bottom, he liked my “page” but started asking a dozen questions about me. This here blog contains more information about me than you’d ever want to know. I referred him back to the blog, for which he said he did not want to invest the time in reading.
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