Tag Archives: fantasy

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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The Married Blond Bottom Bombshell From Adult Bookstore Fuck Sends a Note

The Married Blond Bottom Bombshell From Adult Bookstore Fuck Sends a Note

After writing and posting it about fucking the wonderful married blond bottom Opens a new window from this blog, I actually received a note from him.

He sent it on my recent update about Inserection, appearing in the comments section Opens a new window from this blog:

[alert style=”yellow”]I really had a great time with you at Inserection and keep reliving the entire moment of us in the upstairs ‘hook-up room,’ as you call it. I’m the married guy you met at what was the last minute before we both almost gave up on the place. I finally fulfilled my fantasy of having you fucking me bareback and cumming deep inside me. Thank you for such a hot time![/alert]

The very hot blond also included a nice photo to allow me to use of him.

Notice that very, very hot bubble ass.

To be honest, the photo fails to do him justice. Moreover, I’ve had to do a little blurring to protect his identity.

Let’s hope I get to fuck it again and add more juice to his hole. If I do, I’ll try to write about it. Or maybe it’s something for my personal diary. One of those memories I’ll keep locked away for that occasional JO.

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Travel Diary: Like Ships Passing…

Travel Diary: Like Ships Passing…

A rarity indeed to find a man taller than I. His arrival had become doubtful after more than an hour had passed since our last communication, but when his knock came and I opened the door, all hesitation dropped. At 23, his broad shoulders defied his lanky frame. A dichotomy of beefy arms but thin basketball fingers. An age so young but a mouth so talented as he sucked my cock deeply as if he’d been trained in some southern Asian massage house.

His shyness gave way with prying from me as I wanted to see his chest, which proved worth while. Large round nipples with a dusting a dark hair but this perfection of a treasure trail from mid-pecs to pubes, inside which hid his cock. A grower, I wondered. But I let him suck me more. He seemed service-oriented and who be I to deny him his hunger?

But after a while, I did. I turned him onto his back and finally kissed him, the bitter starkness of the mixture of Crest and my own crotch seemed odd against my beard and his goatee. Yet a sweetness came through. We kissed a long while. Odd, since he seemed uninterested. His eyes stayed closed so I let him keep his fantasy of whatever man or creature he imagined he might be fucking. Here I spent my time enjoying the details of his being and taking in those nipples and that treasure trail. I lingered to find his limpness, but it did no good. He never hardened. So I moved on and tongued his balls only to work my way lower.

No resistance.

When my tongue first tickled his hole, his mouth opened and released a noise — not loud, mind you, but it was the first one uttered from his mouth other than the sloppy tones of sucking my cock. As my tongue darted into the folds of his skin and penetrated into that puckered darkness, more utterances escaped. So I began adding spit. Enough to make sure I would be able to do what I planned next.

When I came up for air was when I noticed his cock had risen as well. Not full-mast mind you. But it peaked from the dark thatch. As I kissed him, my cock found his spit-soaked hole and, without resistance, slipped just inside. Not all the way in, mind you. Just inside.

His eyes opened. Chocolate brown irises stared at me. He didn’t come off my cock. He didn’t move. So I applied a little more pressure and my cock slipped past that place of tightness into him. His eyes widened and then I knew.

He no longer fantasized about anyone else fucking him.

Into him more deeply, my cock penetrated and I fucked with a slow passion, only the spit between us. Kissing. Faster. Slower. I never slammed him. He was never that kind of fuck. We even talked a long while, my cock hard inside him. We liked how it felt to be connected.

When I came, he rode me. When he came, he rode me. Our moments criss-crossed within seconds of one another. No excuses, no discussions, we knew we were the proverbial ships passing in the night.

Forty-Three Arbitrary Things

Forty-Three Arbitrary Things

So here’s 43 things that have nothing to do with anything. Random thoughts, off the top of my head. Some are explicit. Some are wishes. Some have no fucking reason to exist.

1. I want to fuck a porn star. I’ve defined a porn star. I’ve chatted with a lot of people about favorite porn stars and more. The most interesting aspect is no fucking porn stars even bat an eyelash — virtual or otherwise — at me. I did have a brief discussion with a web-only actor who explained that even the hint of association with a barebacker just labels you and hurts your chances within the condom world (even though most bareback in the private world).

2. I want to write, cast and direct a porn “adventure.” While making this list, might as well get the porn stuff out of the way. Calling it a porn film isn’t quite correct and expounding on the idea might give someone too much information to steal it away. Ideas, you see, can’t be copyrighted or patented. A space exists where porn can explore. A market exists between amateur and web and DVD and everywhere else.

3. Porn, sex and fantasy doesn’t have to be stupid or lack a plot. My fantasy fuck fiction proves that. Believe me, there’s sex. Readers needed to get through a few chapters before finding a single fuck. Urged on to write more, I do. Not everyone loves it and some even criticize it, but somehow, the words continue to flow.

4. Asians are hot. Early, as you jerk off to videos or photos, this ideal of the perfect man develops and you go for smooth, white, tan, muscular, lactose-intolerant, twinks, 23 to 24½ years old with dirty blond hair and cut cocks no more than 7¾ inches long. But then one drunken horny night, you venture forth and try a Latino, African American or Asian on for size. I think I’ve tried every nationality and, I must say, each has an open invitation. As the exploration has continued and I’ve met more (and fucked more), I’ve found Asians to be among the most enjoyable experiences. More to come on this one, I hope.

5. I don’t know why incest turns me on. A forbidden taboo, perhaps, but part hopes to experience it as the third in a three way. Two brothers, a father-son, even the far-fetched cousins or uncle-nephew works. Documented proof would be needed, just to satisfy the doubting Thomas in me. Sometimes these porns claiming brothers, no matter the promises don’t convince me. Even the twins and triples are worry-some since I know how well Photoshop can work. Still, I get a lot of pleasure from watching. I just want to exist between two (or more) someday.

6. What’s love got to do with it? I’ve decided absolutely nothing.

7. Glory holes aren’t always anonymous. I will not stick my cock into any glory hole. I need to see who is on the other side before pushing my cock through. No matter if an ass is backed up to the hole, I need to get a glimpse of the man on the other side. So I may not know his name, but it’s not entirely anonymous if I’ve seen his face, is it. Which leads us to the next one…

8. I am picky. Sometimes it reads like I’ll fuck it if it’s got a pre-lubed ass. I’ve actually had people just say send directions and they’ll come running. I have got to have a photo and some basic stats before I’ll invite anyone to my hotel room. Sorry gents. I really do need something more than that. I know, your mama think’s you’re one hot potato, but I sure as hell might be disappointed.

9. I believe every massage should end with a happy ending. Sorry, I don’t care if you’re a straight massage therapist, but your hand better end up on my cock with a whacka-whacka at the end of my hour or 90 minutes. It’s a dirty little secret of a massage therapist, but I really think most of them do it but just don’t like to admit it.

10. The only thing headless should should be horsemen. At Halloween. Seriously, I see the hot-as-shit photos of these guys all over the place but it stops at the neck.

11. Stop lurking, start commenting. I know a lot of people read this blog and don’t say a goddamn word. At some point, my friends, stop it and start writing! I want to hear from you!

12. Why do bottoms expect the top to make all the decisions? Just because I want to stick a cock in an ass doesn’t mean I always want to drive to the market or want to choose what’s for dinner.

13. Men break down into four categories: gay, six-pack gay, straight-bottoms and straight. Now subcategories exist, but I do believe those are the major categories of men. I do not count “situationally gay” men (as in, men in prison). I don’t care what you claim to be or how you live your life or what your lifestyle claims or whatever your religious beliefs might put you. And the Kinsey Report can attempt its gray area numbers all it wants (I honestly respect that report). Six-pack gays are men who claim to be straight but with a little alcohol (or other substance) and persuasion, they suck cock, get fucked or otherwise have sex with men. Call them bi or they have some sort of selective memory about their sexual encounters, they’re leaning heavily on the gay side of the fence. Now straight bottoms are men who likely are straight but, for whatever reason, like the butt-sex and a warm cock is much preferred over a cold strap-on any day.

14. Is is really possible for a man who’s 35 years old or younger to date a man who’s 40 years or older without the older man being a sugar daddy? Just a question. If you’re less than 35 years old, legitimately interested, hit me up with an answer.

15. Do we ever really want Tom Cruise to come out of the closet? No. No we don’t. Please stay in. Thank you.

16. If Lady Gaga is this generation’s Madonna, Adam Lambert is this generation’s Liberace. Snap.

17. Funny thing, I don’t usually get to fuck on my birthday. Even when I was in a relationship, it never seemed to work out. Or we went out and I got to drink so much and I came home fucked up enough that I passed out.

18. Why won’t bareback hook-up sites let me promote my blog? Maybe I could promote their hook-up sites? Are you listening BarebackRT.com? A little quid-pro-quo? Might even help me with my out-of-town hook-ups! Or maybe another site might take me on… anyone listening?

19. I’m bi. Bi-platform that is. I love Macs but I can’t completely convert over, as much as Mac-lovers want. I must keep one foot firmly planted in the Windows world. So, please allow me just a little Windows in my life.

20. My nipples do nothing for me, but my balls are a different story. I know men whose nipples are hardwired to their cock (or their brain, since that’s truly the biggest sex organ). But any talented bottom can find multiple spots on and around my balls that send shivers down me timbers in the most amazing ways.

21. It’s 420 somewhere, but believe it or not, it’s never been 420 for me. I’ve never smoked anything. Not pot or anything. And I’m very anti-smoking but very non-judgmental, which seems sort of like an oxymoron. But the truth is it’s smoking for 40-plus years that shortened my Mother’s life and therefore why I cannot stand the smell, even for a short duration fuck. Sorry smokers.

22. If you read this, include a 22 at the conclusion of your comments even if you comment nothing. Or are you a scanner like me and miss the details of what people are really writing?

23. The Wish List remains open. Just because my birthday has past doesn’t mean gift giving season is over. You can see the most recent Amazon Wish List at http://amzn.com/w/7O8PS2941J38.

24. I cried on my birthday. Now explaining this one away might be tough. It came after I wrote my birthday entry, which might make my gray-day explanation seem a little more gray than I thought. Indeed. As I sat and thought about it, I realized one thing. As many people are there are who care about me in my life, my mother was the last one who truly cared for me. That little distinction disturbed me, rattling me to the core, which allowed a moment of grief to pour out. That and every where I went, every single retail outlet encouraged me to purchase my Mother something to commemorate her day. The last thing I need to purchase for my mother is the date of her death for her marker.

25. Just because you have muscles doesn’t make you God’s gift to humanity or gaymanity so get a clue. Still, I’d fuck the attitude out of you.

26. Do I want a boyfriend? Maybe. Would I stop fucking around if I had a boyfriend? No. Would I expect him to stop fucking around? Uh, no. In fact, I’d hope he’d show up with a loaded ass, thankyouverymuch.

27. I’d like to sponsor a giant Twitter/Blogger Meet-Up in Fall 2010. Anyone interested? I’ll only do it if 27 people respond to this posting in the comments section. Other bloggers willing to participate should also respond and encourage. We would need a sponsor to help make it happen, too. And don’t forget to notice the appropriate response to 22.

28. Yes, I really love Diet Coke that much. When I met someone this past trip to Denver, that was one of his curiosities. Thought I’d clear that up.

29. Still hoping to mentor a young top. Only one young man seemed semi-serious about pursuing this option and I’m patiently awaiting to see if he continues that effort (will he get all the way to 29 to see this?). I wonder if anyone would seriously want to make that effort and continue to ask me questions, seek my advice and ask me more?

30. If you don’t send gift or donations, I really enjoy e-mails, especially with photo attachments. Seriously. Some of the best things I receive are note with hot photos and wishes. Personal notes that don’t include anything other than, “wish you were here.” My Montana buddy gets a special shout out for just that.

31. I’m traveling so much this year, I want to earn Delta Medallion status. I’ve never flown first class. I hope to some day. Maybe I will if I can ever get to Medallion status. I need to fly 10 more round-trip flights this year to get silver status, so I just might get it. I hope so. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll get an upgrade someday. I tried to get one to Denver, but a little screw-up cost me a chance to get it.

32. I live seven miles from the house I grew up in. It’s not really by choice, but it happened. I lived away from Georgia for 18 years before returning here about seven years ago, but now I’m back. Who knows, now that both my parents are gone, how much longer I will be here.

33. If you’re stupid, please stop reading here and kill yourself. Gun. Bullet. Aim. Trigger. At head. Shit, you missed again. Please reload. Not to go off on a rant here (but I will) if I get another asshole who asks me for a fucking photograph (and doesn’t bother to look at the “about me” picture with the “iBi” right next to my face) I’m going to personally purchase the gun, load it and send it to him with instructions on how to blow his pretty little head off. Dumb ass bottoms. Smart bottoms, it’s the dumb ones that give you a bad name.

34. Thunderstorm enthrall me. Something about the power of the wind, rain and static in the air make them enjoyable. So I listen, watch and enjoy them. Spring is upon us and I enjoy them. Of course, the tornado side effect is not something that I’d enjoy experiencing. Stay just this side of dangerous. My geekiness extends to watching the weather radar and seeing the track of the storms.

35. Why is 35 considered the end of gay life as we know it? Even those my age look for those 35 or younger. What’s the deal?

36. Is it bad to admit you’re in therapy? For a while, Hollywood seemed to relish the status symbol of having a shrink. As I went through the painful experience of my Mother’s death (and some profound choices made to help her along that path), I knew seeking someone to vent my frustrations and emotional issues would be helpful to me later. So I have. It’s not a sign of weakness but one of wellness, in my opinion. But for some reason, some folks treat it as if I’ve admitted to being fitted for a straight jacket. I’m not crazy, although some in my life might beg to differ but not for reasons that have anything to do with this blog. Shortly after Mother’s passing, I recognized the stress in my life needed an outlet that I would not be able to fix on my own through any ordinary coping mechanism. So I chose to spend a little time exploring myself.

37. I’m thinking of dumping TiVo and cable and switching over to DirecTV. I think it will be cheaper, but I can’t find anyone offering BBC America in high-definition yet and I really want to see Doctor Who in HD. I’m truly embracing my geekiness.

38. Mountains over the beach. Believe me, I won’t turn down a trip to either but a cottage in the mountains seem so much more relaxing. Well, fuck, I’ll take a bungalow at the beach too. I’m a pale white boy and I don’t tan, so don’t expect me out at the pool all day with tan lines to prove later. And mountain rainbow trout over a nice conch fritter is fine with me anytime. Among the sexiest experiences I think I’ve ever had was sitting in the hot tub in the hills, the snow sizzling around us and our hair freezing into odd shapes. But the cabin fires were warm and we kept each other warm that evening in interesting ways. The beach had less clothing and, well, I did have a five-way on a B&B roof in Key West. Take me anywhere a bunch of gay men gather!

39. Are poppers really all that cool? Fuck yes.

40. I love roller coasters and amusement parks. Not crap stuff either; I’m an aficionado and can speak to parks and coasters as such. That said, I suffer from acrophobia with the exception of riding a coaster.

41. Speaking of dichotomies, I love sushi, but hate wasabi. Don’t ever take me to a crappy, all-you-can-eat, dollar dinner near a college. Take me to a nice, fresh sushi restaurant with delicious, amazing, overwhelming sushi.

42. Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything. But it’s a shitty year to live, if you ask me.

43. Admit the truth. You want me to breed a load into you, even if you’re slightly repulsed by the idea. You want it. That’s why you read to 43. That, or you skipped to the last one (shame on you if that’s what you did).