Tag Archives: God

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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Celibacy: The Only Option

Celibacy: The Only Option

Dear Reader:

I’ve decided to try Celibacy on as an option.

I recently found the Apostolic Pentecostal Rectory of Internal Light on Forsyth Industrial Road in South Tucker, just outside Atlanta.

I’ve been learning about how it’s not God’s Will for those of us challenged with these sins of the flesh must turn away and, if we cannot convert, we must abstain.

So I am beginning my abstinence.

I apologize for all the harm I have caused in my time writing this blog. I hope that my time of personal reflection in the years to come will allow you all to forgive me.



In a Week of Victories, Barebackers Slammed with Yet More Hate

In a Week of Victories, Barebackers Slammed with Yet More Hate

The U.S. Supreme Court issued a couple of landmark rulings — one basically letting California resume marrying same-gender couples and the other, and much more important, striking down the so-called “Defense of Marriage Act” (or DOMA) as unconstitutional.

While the DOMA ruling still allows a patchwork of states to maintain their bigotry, it did provide some remarkable language from the high court. Justice Anthony Kennedy wrote:

“DOMA’s principal effect is to identify a subset of state-sanctioned marriages and make them unequal. The principal purpose is to impose inequality, not for other reasons like governmental efficiency. Responsibilities, as well as rights, enhance the dignity and integrity of the person. And DOMA contrives to deprive some couples married under the laws of their State, but not other couples, of both rights and responsibilities.”

In other words, the law was codified bigotry.

Now on to hypocritical bigotry

A day before the ruling, the pseudo-news site for gays, Queerty, ran a piece about the Bareback Brotherhood Open-New-Window-External. The slow editors — quick to pick up on the latest steroid-pumped pecs on meth-induced porn stars — just learned about the #BBBHBlue Star movement on Twitter more than two years in thanks to an “intrepid reader.”

Posting on our “about” page became our “mission statement.” And without interviewing one of our foundersBlue Star, began making sweeping statements.

Oh God, how I love the media.

On a website that glorifies the party culture of the gay community, where one can hardly pass a page without some naked flashes of overly shaved men, the editors decide to come down hard on a social group.

The “editors” on this money-making commercial website have one article dedicated to Treasure Island Media, the world’s largest bareback studio. Oh, it’s mentioned a few more times on the website, but the article is connected to a story about a California government agency fining the studio for failing to use (gasp!) condoms on set and exposing actors to bodily fluids.

When cute, twink-boy porn site Sean Cody went bareback, Queerty went a little soft on them, writing:

“Whether or not bareback porn leads to unprotected sex among viewers has been hotly contested and is almost impossible to prove. We generally err on the side of letting grown adults make their own judgment calls….” Open-New-Window-External

Then there’s how soft Queerty is with Maverick Men, a growing bareback media empire. Media darling Chris Crocker fucked raw there Open-New-Window-External and Maverick Men wrote a book worthy of an article Open-New-Window-External.

I also did a couple of searches on bareback hook-up websites. Our Queerty editors haven’t bothered to take them on. Not at all. BarebackRT.com Open-New-Window-External is safe from the wrath. And I doubt the editors know anything about the bareback gatherings like CumUnion Open-New-Window-External or the many other bareback fuck parties around. Or maybe the short bus hasn’t made it to those stops.

Bigotry to the People

But when it comes to bareback sex, the hammer must come down on the ordinary men of the Bareback Brotherhood. We’re the ones glorifying bareback sex and personally forcing people to get infected.

Never mind our bareback sex isn’t distributed to millions and sold. We are the masses. We’re the ones without the legal resources to sue or send a cease and desist letter. We’re not an organization that may someday, if Queerty can’t figure out what to do, buy a couple of skyscraper click-through ads on the website.

The editors, who’s probably just one condom Nazi needing a good breeding or a bareback denier who gets raw fucks all the time but can’t bring himself to tell the truth, puts himself on some platform of thinking he’s better than everyone.

He’s sitting back at his desk, smoking those Marlboro Reds after that satisfying Big Mac, fries and a chocolate shake of God-knows-what (but it wasn’t ice cream, milk or chocolate) and thinks he knows better for everyone what’s healthy for our lives.

And meanwhile, the money talks and every commercial enterprise gets a pass.

Blue Star Blue Star Blue Star Blue Star Blue Star

Mark Bentson, aka iBLASTinside, is a cofounder of the Bareback Brotherhood.

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Happy Ending Erotic Therapeutic Massage Atlanta

Chad: An LA Blond with a Caress of Gold

Chad Turns Blond into Gold-Star Service


Profile on MasseurFinder.com as Chad Open-New-Window-External
Inactive profile on MassageM4M.com as Chad Open-New-Window-External
His online cell is listed as (323) 899-7688


bullet 33 years old, 6 feet tall, 175 pounds, dirty blond with unshaven look, light blue eyes and 7 inches cut
bullet Massages in the nude with light body hair, nicely trimmed where it needs to be
bullet Mutual touch is allowed and the way he maneuvers, it’s practically encouraged
bullet His massage is Swedish based and on a bed in his hotel room, as he’s currently traveling the country
bullet In the Atlanta area, he’s currently staying
I-85 near Druid Hills Road but that could change
bullet When he leaves Atlanta, he’ll be in Nashville, Knoxville, Arkansas and eventually San Francisco


bullet Pissed off about this review; see his response Opens new window of a page on this blog
bullet Leaves Atlanta on March 17, 2013
bullet Chad does NOT bareback Opens new window of a page on this blog

four-out-of-five-stars rating

Atlanta’s massage therapists Opens new window of a page on this blog bring a certain lackluster approach to their skills. I’ve tried a few and am looking to try more. It’s a challenge because most massage therapists don’t seem to know a damn thing about customer service (but that’s another entry).

What I want to write about is Chad.

For the past month or so, I’ve been seeking a good therapist who knows a thing or two about connecting with a client. I’ve been able to get a decent massage — at least technically good. The therapist will find the knots, work it out for a while, make me feel some pain.

A little while later, the therapist will make me feel good.

But all the while, this gulf is between us. We are two people, going through motions and not sensing how the other feels.

I wrote a long while back about my two Filipino massage therapists Opens new window of a page on this blog, one of whom I had when I lived in Washington, D.C. This guy had the most incredible body, was half my age, but during our massage could find this weird space that created a kind of mindmeld where the two of us would synchronize.

Look, I do not get off on a blowjob, much less a handjob. But with a few strokes after his build up, this guy had be blasting all over myself.

Back to Chad.

Let’s just say things could have been rocky with Chad. I’d like to say he’s a little down on his luck, but his attitude seems so cheerful as he’s figuring out where he wants to go. Or maybe he’s just a wandering gypsy nowadays. He has some adventures to tell, I’m sure. But he made it easy to set things up and I met him.

Like me, his sense of humor is a little twisted. And since his hotel room is so damn small, he can’t really accommodate a massage table.

Chads-ass-Massage-TherapistThank God.

His technique allowed this kind of luxurious relaxed posed where he’d lounge next to me. It wasn’t so much trying to get his dick to touch my leg as the fact his body would just naturally seem to fit up against me.

He started with my legs, which seemed a little weird. Then he worked up to my back. When he got to my shoulders, he almost cradled me in his arms and across his smooth (and trimmed) chest.

Was it hot? Not. It was comfortable. And erotic. I mean, just felt right. Strangely so.

I truly enjoyed his skill, although he never really integrated deep tissue. He picked up intrinsically on those points of my body that provided more pleasure and worked them expertly.

He just connected with me. We connected together. It was unspoken. In fact, when we spoke, I don’t know if we got along. But when we didn’t speak, he could weave some magic between us.

The quality of the lotion could be much better, as it seemed to be generic and not meant to be for massage. And cleaning up with tissue paper rather than a towel didn’t really work for me. I think if those two had been in place, I’d definitely given him another half star to put him at 4½.

I hope Chad let’s me know where he’s going so I can see him again. It will be well worth visiting him again. And while he’s in the Atlanta area, I encourage you all to seek him out and book an appointment.

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Condom Versus Bareback Sex

Condom Versus Bareback Sex

I’ve received a couple of e-mails just today from men confronting a crossroads on which path to take. I’m going to share what each had to write.

Being gay is one thing. You are already different and somewhat an outcast for that.

Then if you are into older guys and not guys your own age it’s another thing and another form of alienation.

Oh and then there is leather if you are into kinks and being subservient and being someone’s slave or boy and wearing a collar people thing you are strange.

And add barebacking to the mix and you are basically a fucking alien.

I’d say the only thing you could do more then that is becoming poz then good luck ever finding acceptance.

This young man in his twenties experienced first hand the hatred coming from the gay community for being a barebacker. Unfortunately, someone discovered his enjoyment at raw cock and, poof, all his acceptance in his circle of friends dissipated so quickly, he felt abandoned and forced into burying his urge to go raw. Now, with animosity and a regret, he wrote me thinking I would reject him too because he no longer barebacked.

Peer pressure. What an odd thing.

The other man, in his mid-thirties, wrote to express his newness to fucking raw.

It took me a long time to get to the point of taking raw cock on purpose.  Haven’t moved to all-bare all the time yet.

I still remember the first loads I took.  Was really nervous about it.  But now, I crave my buddies’ loads.  Sometimes I really want to be a cum dump and take all loads.  Haven’t got to that point though.

My Own Journey

In the late 1980s and early 1990s as the AIDS epidemic brought more and more death upon the gay community, I happened to be a fledgling twentysomething myself in South Florida. I lived far away from the big cities and worked way too hard to get to date men, as at the time I thought a Prince Charming still existed on my horizon would come and take me to new heights of love and sex.

You can read of my own sexual exposures by my molester in the Dark Passenger Opens a new window from this blog entries, which at the time, I’d confronted but didn’t face head on as this blog allowed in the years since. Yet as a young journalist at a small newspaper in the heat of the Florida sun, I got to see the worst that can happen to humanity:

  • A 13-year-old middle school student stabbed, snipped and raped (after death)
  • A 19-year-old motorcyclist with his brain scattered a few hundred feet — now I know why they call it “gray matter”
  • Countless shootings and stabbings of people, often for no reason or for some drug deal gone bad
  • Lightning strikes of golfers, kids playing outside or just random people
  • Skinheads and KKK recruiting in the local high schools
  • Vagrants and drunks falling asleep on train tracks to have the locomotive run them over and sever off some body part
  • Whole families driving off roads into ditches and drowning, never exiting the minivan
  • Beach drownings and backyard pool drownings of old and young, accidental or otherwise
  • Wrecks where the jaws of life pried open bloody mangled messes of metal and human fused together
  • Coaches molesting his female players on his championship team
  • And an honors student and latchkey kid, sniffing a spray can protectant, getting high, barfing and dying his backyard

These were not odd occurrences. This happened daily. Sometimes twice or three times. Over the weekend. For more than two years, I watched this carnage and human destruction up close and personal. No college professor prepared me for real blood and body parts and coroners and victim tears and invading people’s privacy to get a few precious words for a quote.

In the midst of all this, I began my own medical issues. My doctor, at the time, asked me if I’d ever been tested for the virus that causes AIDS. I’d developed some odd rash and he had no idea why.

No cocktails existed. As I recall, AZT was even experimental. People I knew who had AIDS would suddenly disappear only to have their obituary appear later due to suicide or some other “illness.” And if my life, just starting out, began with a doctor suggesting that a fucking rash might be HIV.

The test in those days took more than a week to get the results. I worried the whole time. And the whole time I worried, I watched countless people drop dead around me from murder, accident, mayhem and more.

But I didn’t have HIV. I was fine. I would live!

Life seemed brighter. The world seemed better. I didn’t need to worry. Everything would be a-okay. I just needed to be careful. Right? No unsafe sex.

Fuck. I barely had sex anyway. The death and destruction at work kept making sure of that.

I would try to use a condom if sex ever popped up or just let a guy suck me off. And I tried to date. But something just seemed unsettling to me.


I’d sampled raw sex from the beginning — my first fuck ever Opens a new window from this blog — and a few momentous subsequent fucks Opens a new window from this blog. As I turned over my new leaf following the savior of coming out negative, I found myself slipping up from time to time. Often, it would be someone I really liked (or lusted after).

scruff-go-rawBarebacking happens. Any gay man who hooks up will likely bareback. A recent example to the right. I’ll tell someone I only fuck raw and they’ll change their tune quick.

Recent studies found that about half of all gay men will admit to having bareback sex. But that’s the admission. I believe that number is much higher. The study I’m citing was from a judgmental safer sex education effort and didn’t go at the study neutrally. Someone asked like I did — as you see in this pic or in a way that makes people feel “safe” to answer they’re okay with barebacking — you’ll find more people will admit to going raw.

While the fuck listed here didn’t hesitate, sometimes the bottom will wait a while and come back later with an “all right, I’ll let you fuck me” or “if you promise you’re DDF, you can fuck me.” Sometimes, if I follow through with the fuck, I’ll be asked to pull out.

I pull out…. after I blast inside.

Everyone knows my name, my e-mail address and usually this blog. Why they sometimes miss that fact, I don’t quite get it.

In my experience, those who eventually admit and will allow me to bareback — based on my photos — and knowing my information is about seven out of 10. I believe if I had a photo of an athletic body, younger age and a slightly larger cock, I’d get closer to nine out of 10.

And if I were to bottom, it would be close to 99 percent with those looks.

pornI wrote recently Opens a new window from this blog about a porn star who visited Atlanta during 2012. This performer, who is rather famous and qualifies as a true porn star, would have cost me a big chunk of change. He stars in condom-only porn. He refused to get fucked raw but would gladly fuck raw and, even knowing me and my blog, would breed my ass.

The schedules never meshed and I’m not messing up his career or the opportunity for him to breed me should he return to the ATL.

I believe that some people think it’s more acceptable to be a bareback top.

The more young, the more athletic, the more “healthy” looking, the more likely a raw fuck will happen.

Back to My Story

As I matured and had my experiences with dating and hookups, I had sex both with and without condoms. It’s not like I didn’t know the difference. It’s not like I ignored the choice before me. And every six months or so, I’d endure the long wait to determine if I happened to be HIV positive, worrying about what would happen, what other discrimination might confront me along with the homophobic hatred that already confronted my life.

Medical changes were happening and treatments were improving. People living with HIV didn’t die immediately. I had boyfriends, then partners. And my life progressed. When I would try to use a condom, it wouldn’t always be the most successful experience.

The difference between bareback and condom sex is like standard- and high-definition television. Once you’ve watched high-def, you really can’t stand to go back to the low-definition again. It’s fuzzy. You don’t get as much out of the experience. The sensations aren’t all there. You’re missing a big chunk of the fun. The experience is extremely lacking.

You crave the high-definition. You want to full-on overload that you get from the sensory inputs of going raw.

Anyone who pretends it’s “just as hot” or whatever else is lying.

My two writers know this. And this is the conflict they’re struggling with right now.

To the Twentysomething

You are a barebacker and you know the risks that come with it. You might pretend for the sake of your so-called friends that you want to wrap it up. However, what kind of friends are they really?

Maintaining a little separation of your sex life and your professional life makes a great deal of sense. But your gay friends cannot all say they hate you because you bareback. If they do, they’re not truly your friends (and it’s time to find some new ones). Barebacking is a choice.

I will say if you choose to use a condom, it’s fine with me. If I know someone makes a logical choice based on the facts in front of them, then I can only respect their choices.

Further, allow me to say Atlanta isn’t the best choice for the Leather Community. It is a small community and the choices are limiting, unlike larger cities where Leather has a larger presence — Chicago for one. I’d suggest you broaden your circle of friends and you’ll find several barebacking members in within BDSM circles.

And should you ever become poz, I promise you won’t be alienated either. There’s a special bond between poz men (I’m sure some of them will speak out).

To the Thirtysomething

You too are coming into your own, now that you’ve seen the greener grasses of barebacking. Even with your limited experience, you know that the sensory experience of going raw just can’t compare with wrapping plastic around a cock and sliding it into a hole. That separation blurs the enjoyment.

Can you truly make that choice?

Why I Made the Choice

As I wrote earlier, I was unprepared for the death, destruction and hatred I would see on a day-to-day experience. Compound that with my molestation, and you come to a place where I struggled to find intimacy and connections with men that simply didn’t not transfer through the plastic barriers of a condom.

Why would I choose to live a life hidden from those sensations I craved and deny myself the thing I wanted? Why especially when I knew it all could be snatched away in a moment due to lightning, an accident, a gunshot, a stabbing or some other act of fate that would take thousands every year but somehow spare me?

One of the oddest occurrences that still baffles me is the person who writes me and wants me to fuck him — but insists I use a condom. Oh, he’s  read my blog. He knows I only fuck raw. He’s aware that “I blast inside.” But he considers himself cute enough, muscular enough, hung enough, young enough, funny enough or some other talent enough that he will be the exception to my rule to fuck raw. He is special enough that he will escape my raw breeding. I won’t stealth him either. I’ll be honorable and fuck safely.

No chance in hell.

And if you think a car accident, a home invasion, a stray bullet, a blood clot, a drowning or some other death or destruction element will miss you — that you’re special enough that God will spare you — then I spent two years in South Florida meeting the people who thought the same thing.

Life is meant to be lives in high definition. That’s where I live it.

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