Tag Archives: fucking hell

How I Performed on My 2012 Resolutions… FUCK!

How I Performed on My 2012 Resolutions… FUCK!

12 Resolutions for 2012 Opens a new window from this blog and I’m five for 12, or there abouts. A few of my resolutions were rather vague. Let’s step through them one by one and see where I fucked up.

porn12. Fuck a Porn Star

For the third year running, this has been on my list and for the third year, fucking hell, it’s failed.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I’ve met porn stars virtually who promise they’d let me fuck them but it never happens that we’re in the same town. In fact, I’ll tell you a couple of secrets. I got so desperate last year to fulfill this I gave a particular porn star (who I’ll be kind and won’t name him) gifts that amounted to enough to warrant him a promise to fulfill this particular desire.

As you know, porn stars are always good on their word.

Not.

This particular person ended up not fulfilling my desires despite the promise and, well, my payments went unfulfilled.

Another porn star, who does condom-only porn, visited Atlanta and said while he won’t get fucked raw, he does fuck raw. I decided I’d get bottomed. Then he searched my e-mail and, well, he said he’d fuck me raw but pull out to cum.

What’s the use in that?

I’m getting closer but not quite there.

 

11. Meet My Meat (and Boy, Did You Ever)

This one I’ll give myself because, despite passing 45 years of age — just this side of ancient in the gay world — I fucked so much ass this year, I’m sure if it had been cunts, about 30 baby Marks would have been in various stages of gestation. Based on my calculations, I bred close to 250 asses including many in Georgia and California. Of course, I happened to breed several dotted all over including Pennsylvania, Massachusetts and Texas.

Next year, I hope to do more traveling with a new job and breed even more in a lot more states. I really hope to hit New York City, Chicago and Seattle.

 

surfer10. More Asian Invasion

Rice was nice this year. Fucking hell if I didn’t get a lot more of the delicacy. Thanks to my travel west, I saw much more Asian ass. In fact, the exotic ass lined up for my might white cock.

Okay, so my cock is 7 inches. But to a tight-ass Asian, it’s perfect.

Highlighting the Asian ass I took has to be the Asian surfer Opens a new window from this blog and the Las Vegas mystery man Opens a new window from this blog, both included in the best fucks of 2012 Opens a new window from this blog. But much more ass sat on my cock in 2012 to make it an Asian invasion year.

Arigato, although that’s just the Japanese version of “Thank You.” There’s so many Asian flavors to say thanks, I’d spend too much time figuring them out.

 

my-trainer9. Shape It Up

Yea, fuck that. My lovely, tragically straight trainer abandoned me and I never found someone to replace him. Therefore I lost momentum in the gym and never quite returned and boosted up my starting point in 2011.

 

8. Shocking Myself

Yea. Not going to happen. Nothing too kinky for me.

 

7. Tattoo Time

Yes, I did it. On my right calf. Exactly what I wanted. Hurt like hell.

 

boy-grindr6. Curb the Curmudgeon

The photo to the right is the boy I wrote about last year, perhaps on a whim. Turns out he violated one of the most important issues for which I require for all those I fuck Opens a new window from this blog and he lied about it Opens a new window from this blog.

This year happened to be the year of men lying a lot to me, especially as I had to write about catfish Opens a new window from this blog more and more. The term “catfish” Link Opens in a New Window comes from the documentary of the same name and refers to those who lie about themselves, normally creating an elaborate persona. For a catfish, being dishonest about one issue isn’t enough. One must create a complete world.

I’ve had too many catfish this year to pin up the curmudgeon. I doubt everyone.

 

5. Roll on Rollercoasters

I got a few in but not enough.

 

4. Occupy the Obvious & 3. Punch Back

Well, Obama won and all is right with the world. Right?

Fuck that.

My job is a hellish nightmare and the condom Nazis continue their assault, with even more cyber-attacks on my website Opens a new window from this blog and worse. How disappointing. The effort to get a job in an accepting environment continues to elude me and, well, punching back has only left me bloody and bruised. Standing up for my rights doesn’t seem to work.

 

2. Mentoring a Man-Boy & 1. Connect

I made strides in this area and might make some more, but still haven’t found one dedicated to sticking to getting to know me and letting me getting to know them. I’ve met a few, even had coffee here or there. But nothing has clicked yet and made it work.

I’ll start texting someone and suddenly the enthusiasm will fall off on their part — not mine — even before we meet. Do they expect me to be all about the fuck all the time? No. It’s sometimes boring. Their loss.

As for the mentoring piece, I speak with many who think it’s just me fucking them. Maybe offering a tip or two then moving on. I think that’s why the bottoms of today truly fail me.

Mentoring is a long-term process. I guess men think they can get all they advice they need off the Internet these days (and goodness knows I provide a lot of sexual advice here with poppers Opens a new window from this blog, gloryhole etiquette Opens a new window from this blog, stealthing tips Opens a new window from this blog, bottom commandments Opens a new window from this blog, sleazy Atlanta Opens a new window from this blog and much more.

I see mentoring as a more personal guide, seeing what this person’s attributes are and exploiting them for that person’s personal gain.

Oh well.

What people are searching to find this page::

  • escort bbfs (16)
Key West Postcard

Travel Diary: My Little Piggy

Meeting fans of my blog is always a little risky.

There is the stalker element. I’ve been stalked before but not for this blog. In fact, I’ve been stalked twice for completely different reasons and very strange results. One was just a mental case. Literally. The other is a story I need to reserve for an entry.

While on my trip to Key West, a few fans of the blog did recognize me. I’d partially hoped for a few folks who wanted to have a beer and maybe chat a little, show me the sleazier side of town. Unfortunately, that didn’t work out. Mostly, men just want a sample of my DNA.

I guess men want to compare the bravado of the blog to the dick in real life.

Not sure how many of those men go home disappointed or really happy.

Among them was a man who messaged me first on Scruff, as you can see. I’ve altered things a bit.

He popped up early in the week then went offline and practically disappeared. I began to wonder whether I’d get him. Truth be told, another man kept in touch.

Or should I say “man.”

He spent a lot of time not exactly as a man, although he would get fucked as a man. I’m not at all into femme, transgender, drag queens or even guys who get off on wearing women’s panties while getting fucked. In fact, I’ll let a jock slip in there every once in a while but a man-thong creeps me out.

I knew it would make for a great blog entry that I’d fucked a lady-boy, man-girl or whatever you want to call it. But just having the knowledge of such made my dick shrivel.

But this pig happened to be all man.

He popped back up on the grid at the right moment — my last night in town. I spent it basking in three dick dancers and a bar back at Bourbon Street Pub (that’s an entry all unto itself). I’d been offered to spend more money to get one or all for a “private party,” but what I wanted and needed was relatively simple.

Pump and dump.

I knew my little piggy in Key West would understand.

I texted and he responded.

He said he was with a “bud,” who I actually assume was his boyfriend since he indicated he needed a moment to slip out. He did.

Arriving at the guesthouse, we slipped inside and found a dark corner. I dropped my trousers and he dropped to his knees, sucking on my cock immediately.

He opened wide and used a lot of spit. He went to work on my balls, familiar enough to know that’s how you generated extra cream for his ass. His aggressive work was perfect for my slightly buzzed state at 2:30 in the morning.

I stood him up and turned him around. He asked for poppers, knowing full well I’d have some handy.

He’d been using spit to apply to his ass. As he bent over, he grabbed my cock and lined it up to his ass. I applied pressure as soon as it hit the pucker and it slid inside easily.

His ass sucked me inside as aggressively as his mouth had. This piggy wanted fucked.

I grabbed his hips and went to fucking. Slow at first, then sleeping up. Fucking hell, his ass chute was smooth and straight. A lot of shit tunnels bend down when you’ve got a piggy bent over to fuck. Since my cock points toward my belly, it adds a little stress to my cock. But not his. As I’ve said, every ass is different and his offered a distinct smoothness and a nice straightness to it.

Despite our being semi-public, I began to fuck in earnest. I knew men had fucked in this darkened corner before and would again. I grabbed the poppers and took my hit. And then I began to slam his ass looking to relieve my balls of all the weight they’d built up over the night’s teasing.

The sound of my thighs slapping his ass started to echo through the courtyard, but I didn’t give a shit. He grunted. I did too. His smooth chute just felt too perfect as I went for the final moments before allowing my load to go into him.

“Want my load?” I whispered harshly.

“Yeah man!” he whispered back. “I want it so bad!”

I began to throb and then my cock let loose, sending literally torrents of cum into his ass. I pushed forward with my hips but threw back my head in a silent howl.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, I came down a little and my cock  slipped out.

My little piggy turned around, crouched down and licked my cock clean. I could smell the mix of cum, sweat and ass juices. He gobbled them up.

Licking his chops, he stood, pulling up his pants.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for that.”

And with that little whisper, he was off into the night.

I went to bed, slept well and flew home the next day.

What people are searching to find this page::

  • key west cock sucking (1)
Soft Cock Syndrome

Don’t Claim to be Another Top If You Can’t Get Your Cock Hard

Of late, I’ve been fucking this adorable little Latin Link Opens in a New Window with an ass worth mucho grande. He’s been fantasizing about a double penetration. He’s fucking tight, but I don’t mind indulging his need for more cock, especially if it means I’ll load his hole when there’s another load inside him.

The other day, we’re both searching for a second top and he happens upon someone claiming to be a top, who he invites over as well. Once I saw the BarebackRT Link Opens in a New Window profile, I’ll admit I was skeptical. I generally get a vibe off of people and did not read true, pointed north top. Alas, too late as the invitation was extended.

I arrived. The other “top” was sprawled on the bed in a jockstrap getting blown, in the first of what would be three cockrings he would try.

Cockrings aren’t a bad thing. I’ve never had a need for them, although on occasion they’re sort of fun to add on as a kind of fashion accessory to push my balls forward so the bottom gets a hint to lick my balls more. But they also cover a couple of my sensitive erogenous zones where a light tongue touch and cause me to lose the ability to speak and floods my urethra with precum.

My pocket Latin sucks my cock for about 15 to 20 seconds and I’m completely hard. He shows it off to the other “top” then proceeds to climb on board.

Over the next half an hour, my bottom friend sucks, jacks, tickles, kisses and tries everything he can to get the other “top” hard.  Our entire session revolves around making him comfortable and getting him up. He switches cockrings twice more and to no avail. He gets half-hard once with no potential to even slide into the bottom’s ass, even after I’ve opened it up.

The “top” finally declares that his cock has been “worn out” by the bottom and he needs to go.

As he’s putting on his clothes, the “top” then confesses that he’d much rather sit on my cock than anything else. Now if he’d admitted this 25 minutes ago, I might have fucked them both. But he didn’t. Then he finally says, “I’m truly versatile. Nowadays, I think I’m leaning bottom.”

No shit, Sherlock.

I doubt this dude had an impotence issue. He simply couldn’t admit he climbed over the fence and now lived on the bottom side of things. It happens. But fucking hell, if you don’t think you can perform, don’t volunteer, especially when another top is counting on you.

My time was wasted.

The dude left, I bred the boy after we fucked in earnest without any distractions.

What people are searching to find this page::

  • soft cock (28)
  • fucked a bottom (10)
Behind Dead Eyes (Part One)

Behind Dead Eyes (Part One)

The throb of the satellite radio caused the lights to move to beat. I topped the stairs and could see his tall, lithe body as a shadow. We closed the gap, hesitated for a moment to see each other and then began to kiss.

His lips were supple, almost betraying by how little real estate they occupied his face. But his tongue had a lizard-like quality. Darting into the recesses of my mouth and finding everything that I hid there. I swallowed my gum before he could scoop it up.

I pulled his body close to mine. Despite its thinness, I felt almost no bone. It had a sinew quality, almost snake-like.

While I was not in the Garden of Eden. Far from it. I was in an adult bookstore in Atlanta. I felt almost as if this were my temptation to take a bite of the apple.

Wait a moment.

I’d already bitten. To me, there would be no doubt. This temptation was too great. I wanted this man or devil or whatever mystery he held.

I cupped his incredible ass through the tight jeans and knew that this would be a fuck never to forget.

We found a vacant room and closed the door and locked it.

Our kissing resumed and, in something as close to romantic as I get, we slowly undressed. I felt every inch of his smooth skin. His short, curly brown hair provided enough length to grab it in a fist but something prevented me.

What the fuck?

Was I losing my edge?

I mean, this little fucker wanted to be used by me. We’d met on BarebackRT.com and he knew exactly what a twisted mindfuck I’d provide, as he’d found this blog first then sought me out on that hook-up site. Yet here I am, tenderly kissing a little slut and enjoying the fuck out of it.

* * *

‘Shut up.’

‘What do you mean shut up?’

‘I mean,’ the internal dialog continues. ‘Shut the fuck up! There’s a hardon! What the fuck does it matter whether we actually treat this one like all the others or not.’

‘It matters,’ the other voice says. ‘There’s a reputation to uphold. There’s no fucking tenderness to fucking. Fuck! Dump cum! Go!’

‘That’s the encounters that are written about,’ the voice points out. ‘What about all the breedings that don’t get an entry.’

‘Some of them are pretty brutal.’

‘And some of them are not.’

A new voice enters: ‘How about all of you shut the fuck up!’

* * *

His skin feels like silk and that tongue — fucking hell, that tongue! I can’t wait to feel it on my body. He’s not wearing any underwear.

With our pants down around our knees, he kneels to begin sucking. I can now feel the full talent of his tongue across the entire based of my throbbing seven inches. He looks up at me, his deep brown eyes look up wanting… something. His mouth open. His oval face staring up and seeming to ask for a kind of approval. I just put my hand gently into his soft curls and guide him onto my cock.

I close my eyes and lose myself a moment, just concentrating on the sensation of him, his mouth, it’s motion up and down on my cock. He’s pretty good. Blowjobs generally lack a je ne sais quoi about them and cannot get me off. I try to find something remarkable about his. I mean, his tongue is longer than most and he’s doing a better than average job. But it’s just not all that great. But I love feeling his hair in my right hand.

* * *

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘Huh?’

‘You’re actually noticing how his hair feels?’ the voice says. ‘How gay is that?’

‘Shut up.’

‘You’re getting soft in your old age.’

‘Shut the fuck up!’

* * *

I lifted him up and we kissed a moment before pushing him down to a doggie position. That’s when his ass opened up to me and I saw the brownish gray pucker for the first time.

His ass overall was graced with peach fuzz hair in a light brown. Interestingly, it seemed as if someone had groomed the little hair follicles perfectly as they lay in a starburst pattern around his hole. I didn’t approach with my normal caution.

With most bottoms, you wonder if he might be clean. Even if you know he’s washed up, you wonder just how well. But with him, my tongue went lapping at his hole and only tasted the sweetness of his flesh.

His hand began slapping the leatherette mattress in this dimly lit sex den and he moaned.

The hairs of his ass were so very soft, as if he’d conditioned them. I’d never licked hairs so soft. Hairs below the waist can be wiry and stiff. But his were like cashmere yarn. As I ran my fingertips along his crack and pried him open more for my tongue to dart into the damp hole, I continued exploring to find the fine hairs of his balls and pubes were equally fine and soft.

I smelled him and found the scent undeniable.

* * *

‘You’re a fucking moron.’

‘What?’

‘He smells good?’ the voice toys. ‘What next? China patterns?’

‘Fuck off,’ the other voice responds. ‘It’s fun.’

‘Fun?’ the voice slaps back. ‘You’re going to be pussy whipped.’

* * *

With enough ass eating, it’s so juicy that I know my cock will slide inside. So I stand. He slips off his shoes and pants. I remove my pants too, finding some poppers in the pockets for him, tossing it beside his outstretched hand where’s it’s continued to slap the mattress. Soon we’re both naked and I’m slicking up my cock with more of my spit. I put it at his hole and push.

He takes a hit off the poppers. The head of my cock is soon inside him.

He’s breathing hard. But his ass is backing up. And my cock slides further inside. Until all of it is inside him.

“You wanted that ass,” he says.

“You bet I did,” I respond.

I begin fucking in earnest. I twist my hips and arch my back. I change my pace. I find angles. I want him to enjoy it as well.

* * *

‘Why the fuck does he need to enjoy it?’ the voice says.

‘So he’ll come back for more.’

‘Why the fuck does that matter?’

‘Because,’ the other voice says, ‘I want this ass again.’

‘It’s not like there aren’t other asses out there,’ the voice says. ‘Younger, tighter asses.’

‘But this is different.’

‘No. It isn’t.’

* * *

“I want you to breed my ass,” he says, breaking my introspection.

“You want my load?” I can’t deny his ass is fucking fantastic. I really don’t need poppers to pop one off. But poppers do make it feel so much better. As I fuck him, sliding into his silky hole, feeling it grip my cock, he occasionally squeezes it.

Oh I want to unload.

“Yes,” he says, practically breathless.

“Or do you want this to last?”

“Cum whenever you want,” he responds. “Just make sure I get your load.”

I keep fucking, focusing on the sensation of his ass. Occasionally I run my hands along his lithe body, his smooth skin.  Perfect. A body of perfection.

I’ve fucked a lot of beautiful men in my life. Muscular. Models. But this one. Something was different.

I had to stop thinking, stop intellectualizing and focus on the task at hand:

Breeding ass.

As I looked down at the dim light, I could see my spit-lubed cock sliding in and out of that pucker. And I just couldn’t hold back any longer. I reached for the poppers, found them and took a huge snort.

“Want my load?”

“Yessss!”

I picked up the pace.

“Tell me you want it!”

“Please breed my hole!”

I could feel his hole twitch at the words and the pinpoint of the poppers began to drive me toward my orgasm.

Another pump into his ass, his raw ring around my cock, sensing every little bit of it touching me. Feeling his urging me on, backing up into my thrusts, begging for it now.

“Please give me your cum.”

I was grunting now, going into that place where I disappear and only my cock lives. My cock and cum. Boiling. Reaching that fever pitch that would bring it in a surge, breaking through a barrier. I could feel it like a tsunami inside, bursting though some plug. This was one of those loads. I’d obviously built it up over time and somewhere along its pipeline path, it met resistance and now was bursting through. I felt both pain and pleasure at once.

His ass clenched. I think I am screaming. Or grunting. Or making some sort of noise.

My cum is slamming into his ass walls, surging out of my cock. The pain is a distant memory and now all I feel is relief.

I remember to move a little as my cock throbs in his ass. I want to make sure he knows I’m painting the inside of his ass with my cum. My DNA. That this perfect little specimen of a man will know his perfection has been ruined by this geek.

But I’m still recovering from the intensity of the initial moments. The cum is still flooding out. I can feel it around the head of my cock and down the sides. I fuck a little and the sensation of a “squish” comes.

The popper blindness recedes and I’m breathing hard.

That was one of the most intense orgasms ever.

On to Part Two

What people are searching to find this page::

  • bareback poz (59)
Travel Diary, Day #1: Where Are All the Cum-Loving Bottoms?

Travel Diary, Day #1: Where Are All the Cum-Loving Bottoms?

I’ve been saving up my cum. My4½-hour flight from the East Coast on a cramped plane sitting on heavy balls leaves me a little anxious. Before getting on the flight, I’d posted a couple of Craigslist ads for good measure.

I arrive in San Francisco to be greeted by few responses. Very few, in fact. One ad netted me no responses whatsoever.

Grindr and Scruff are pumping on my phone while I wait for my luggage and car then make my way to the hotel in the East Bay. Once settled in, I’m up on BarebackRT and Craigslist with fresh ads.

Hope rises with fresh ass popping up.

Then the fucking games begin. I get the same shit at home.

  • Where are you? (Silicon Valley) Oh wait, that’s 20 minutes away. Too far.
  • My car’s in the shop. Can you come pick me up at my sister’s house? And park around the corner.
  • Do you have a cock pic? (Sent) How big is that? (7 inches cut) How about another face pic? (Sent) Nice. (Let’s fuck) Can I see a body pic first?
  • I’d love to have you fuck me, but could you help me out with gas? Say about $100. (Damn, that’s a big tank.)
  • I know you found me on BBRT, but could we use a condom just this first time? (No.)
  • How long are you here? (A few days.) How about Tuesday night? It’s better for me. (It’s not better for my balls.)

In other words, no one actually wanted to fuck. So I wake up this morning with blue balls and no release. Fucking hell! I didn’t expect paradise but where are all my Bareback Brotherhood men? Were we all watching the “Survivor: South Pacific” finale last night?

What people are searching to find this page::

  • Atlanta Grindr Picture (1)