Tag Archives: hooker

Helping You Out

Helping You Out

Here’s a collection of miscellaneous things that bug me about online profiles:

“Not to be racist but…” or “It’s just a matter of taste…”

Truth is, you’re about to be racist. When’s the last time you read, “Not to be racist but I really only fuck Asians.”

Too much of what men write is what they exclude, not what they include.

Men can’t be blondes

Men are only blonds. It’s one of the few examples where the masculine and feminine matters in the English language. Females are blonde, men are blond. Fucking kills me every time I see it. And speaking of color…

No one’s 50 shades of grey

Unfortunately, our language is getting fucked up thanks to people being unable to figure out Grey is normally a name (it is in the book as it is for anatomy, both the original book and the television show). The official color is gray with an “A.”

HMU DTF

So “hit me up” I’m “down to fuck”? Really? Up and down? I want to go in and out.

“Breeding” means raw

It amazes me when I post an ad somewhere about “loading” or “breeding” an ass and then I get the “safe only” response. Even more amazing is the request that they “just suck me off.”

Uh, no. I’m here for the ass, not for the mouth.

When I say “potent cum,” what do you think I mean?

I’m just asking.

Sup

Fuck you.

What’s up with the abbreviation for etcetera?

If you’re going to go on and on, it’s etc. not ect.

The contractions get me

Please, if you will not go somewhere, you won’t go there… And you want to go elsewhere.

Also, there is no way that there are people out there who don’t understands there’s some contractions out there that the masses seem to misunderstand.

For the most part, I find barebackers are good people; they are often misunderstood and they’re accused of being spreaders of disease and woe. Truth is, barebackers just know their cocks and asses provide a gateway to happiness. Theirs is a life of freedom.

Don’t cry to yo mama

I make it extraordinarily clear that I say some nasty shit when I breed ass. I’m verbal as I approach orgasm.

Just recently it happened again, but this time the fucker didn’t have a choice. I’d mounted him and his little 5-foot-7 frame couldn’t go anywhere. As I am thrusting inside him, I began some of the most horrific things you can say to a bottom.

I’d warned him. Clearly. He knew I’d say things.

He didn’t respond or beg or even whimper. I knew he just wanted it over.

I growled and let it go in his ass, leaning over into his ear: “You asked for this.”

smokerAnd don’t try to lie

I know when someone lies to me. Sometimes I choose to ignore it. Other times, I call the fucker out.

Another thing I make clear is no smokers. All the time, people try to get around it.

“Oh damn,” a guy says the other day after begging me to fuck him. He’d claimed to be a fan and, well, sent me a pic of himself, of all things… smoking. “I quit in May. You won’t smell it on me. I promise.”

Men are known for their veracity. I’m always telling the truth to fuck ass. And I’m sure you’re telling the truth to get cock.

May? Why didn’t you go for last June?

Anyway, he got cut off.

Yes, you fuckers can go ahead and try to mask the smell with cologne and mouthwash, but allow me to point out a couple of salient points:

  • You’ve dulled your senses with smoking so you can’t fucking smell the shit on you.
  • Because the smell adheres everywhere, it’s usually on you in someway.
  • And even more apparent, your lungs are saturated so when you exhale, it can be smelled.
  • It’s even within your bodily fluids like spit, sweat and especially cum (which can stink like a mutherfucker).

Grindr is for babies

What the fuck is up with Grindr?

  1. It doesn’t work.
  2. It has children on it.
  3. It doesn’t work.
  4. The children on it aren’t interested in “hooking up.”
  5. It doesn’t work.

You’re a hooker if you’re shirtless without wildlife

I live in the South, so it’s not odd for me to see photos of people holding up fish, frogs or other creatures from some Redneck hunting expedition while being shirtless. Some gay men post these images as proof of butchness, although when you’re sucking my cock or taking my raw, rockhard cock up your ass and begging for my cum like the little bitch you are, you’re not so butch.

However, if you’re shirtless on any hook-up site or app — this means you, you little Grindr children — and then you add that you’re not here to “hook up,” you’re a hypocrite and a liar.

I don’t shave my balls because I don’t like hair

Lick the sack for larger snack.

My hairy sack tends to get in the way of allowing people to find my spots to give me a lot more pleasure. And the more pleasure I get, the bigger the load they get.

And I shoot big loads, with or without a little licky licky.

Why do you think a barebacker should compromise?

Sometimes I get a horny bottom who insists on a condom, who wants me to fuck them but expects me to be the one to compromise with a condom.

No.

Why should I be the one to compromise?

DDF? Of course!

Everyone online is DDF and clean. Fuck. I’m clean. I took a shower yesterday.

I’ve never seen anyone ever answer other than, “Yes, I’m DDF.” It’s a useless stat. I’ve seen people proudly declare they’re poz or “poz and undetectable,” but I’ve never, ever seen anyone answer the truth when it comes to status.

“Oh I’ve got the clap and a small case of the crabs. It will clear up in a few days.”

“Look, the Valtrex seems to be working. Don’t worry about the Herpes. It’s not like I’m gonna give you the nose-falling-off syphilis.”

Seriously, guys. If you’re “DDF and looking for same,” all you’re going to get is lies.

Understand the status

I’m glad to see more and more people who get the difference between “undetectable and on meds” and “neg, tested 1/13/14.”

Which would you rather fuck?

The answer should be undetectable.

The neg guy hasn’t been tested in more than six months. Cum on.

Curious about the Truvada whores

How many of you “Neg+PrEP” are really on PrEP and how many of you are “Now Neg + Taking Meds”?

 

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The Catfish Phenomenon

The Catfish Phenomenon

Manti Te'o ShirtlessPoor football player. A big athlete falls in love with a “girl” and gets fooled into a three-year “relationship” over the internet and phone, then we all discover it’s fake. The humiliation of this isn’t enough, but to find out later the jock’s been fooled by a male “Christian singer who tried out for ‘The Voice.'”

Shocking?

Fuck no.

It just finally happened prominently, in the public eye. And Manti Te’o, the Notre Dame football player eventually to turn pro and hoping to save his career, got forced to admit his ignorance publicly.

He’s just a dumb jock.

I’ve had catfish galore. You would think I have a catfish farm and raise them.

Here’s a pic of the most recent attempt to dupe me. When I told the little fucker that no, his picture was all over the Internet and that it first appeared on a particular website, this was the porn name it appeared under, etc., the guy admitted the truth.

That’s not always the case.

My Most Recent Catfish Attempt

Catfish are, for the most part, dedicated to their craft. The most recent one that really caught my attention supposedly lived in Washington, D.C., with a Pennsylvania phone number. He served as a hooker, allowing older men to pound his ass mercilessly or some would pay simply to beat the shit out of him — according to the stories he would tell.

He was introduced to the world of escorting by, none other than his father, who taught him to take cock around 9 years old. Now at 19, he was a cumslut. Men would come over and pay upward of $200 each to dump a load in his smooth ass.

Problem is, three years ago, according to his Twitter account, he was 19 then also. Of course, his explanation to me was at that time he was lying. Now he was telling me the truth.

I’d figured out early on he lied a lot, but I carried on the “relationship” much longer than I wanted or even could tolerate simply to see how dedicated he would be to his character. He was unrelenting. Excuses for every inconsistency of his story and, when I asked for explanation, he would turn around to attack me for not trusting him.

So very clever.

I successfully got three photos out of him over about a month, but I could never get him to produce a candid photo in a pose I requested. That, to me, is the tell-tell sign of someone almost real. Of course, one of the original catfish I dealt with was a female Wal-Mart manager who had a minor male employee pose for her photos. She would have him call to leave voice mails as well. But I never spoke to him live.

How do you determine a catfish?

  1. Surprise phone calls. Calls should be answered at all times. If you’re in a “relationship” then a 3 a.m. emergency call shouldn’t be a big deal once in a while. If your calls seem to go to voice mails whenever you call, then you’ve got an issue.
  2. Special requests. Send them a t-shirt or red shorts or something like that in the mail. The day they get it, ask them to wear it, take a photo of themselves doing some sort of pose. Expect the photo within 5 minutes. Excuses like, “I’m at work right now,” or, “I work for the government, they don’t allow me to do that,” or, “I’m on my work phone, I can’t do that,” or, “My cell phone camera is broken, I need to do it at home,” is a sure sign that something is wrong! (Think about it, you sent the gift to their home; they received it at home; why are they suddenly at work?)
  3. Google. Google names, numbers, address and photos. Keep in mind you do need to pay for anything (there will be offers that pop up). Generally, you can glean enough information to find out whether a phone number is a cellular provider or whether it’s a virtual number that’s forwarding to a cell (using Skype or Google Voice). Be smart about phone numbers and locations. Talk about the weather. My guy in D.C. did keep up with the weather in Washington, even though his number was in Pennsylvania. If there’s a delay about what the weather happens to be, you know it’s the case. When searching the name, which many are common, check to determine whether someone has all the common accounts, not just the ones with whom you connect. Sure, creating a fake Facebook is one thing. Is he on LinkedIn? Unless he’s a hooker, you should find a LinkedIn account. And had Manti Te’o searched his “girlfriend’s” photo, he would have found she wasn’t real.
  4. Use logic and track the stories. On detective shows, you’ll often see the big bulletin boards with people’s photos and strings. You must create a virtual one of your own. Who’s his father and mother? What’s their names? Where do they live? Google. Brothers and sisters? Names? Google. College? Google. Old friends. Nowadays, we all leave a trace. For my D.C. catfish, he’d not been out at local bars for about a year. He made the mistake of being friends with a bouncer at a local gay bar — one that had closed recently. When I asked about the crowd, the bouncer, with whom I was supposedly texting while the hooker got fucked in another room, answered like he’d been working. Told me about his bosses. Stupid stuff. Yet I knew the club was closed and had been. Of course, the catfish denied the whole thing and said I was speaking with someone else who lied to me. Both entities just had a tendency to misspell the same words.
  5. Surprise visits. Nothing else shocks the shit out of a catfish like a live visit Opens a new window from this blog. Just telling one you’re coming to visit and that you’ve booked a trip will get the response you need to know. If the suspected catfish is prepared to meet, then maybe it’s for real. But likely, they’re “not ready” for that face-to-face encounter, even just for lunch. Hang the fuck up and move on.

Catfish are people too

Manti Te'o Hoaxer Ronaiah Tuiasosopo ShirtlessI get dozens of e-mails and IMs and text messages from people who want to meet me. I am so very flattered. But far too many never truly want to meet. We call them flakes, of course. We all know them for how they really treat us because, legitimately, they’re not willing to meet.

I cannot begin to shrink them. Too many people have tried to shrink me, to diagnose my own dysfunctions. However, within this world, something is missing that current relationships just cannot seem to meet so they need to create a persona to find a way to fulfill that need.

With Ronaiah Tuiasosopo, the catfish for Manti Te’o, he’s attempting a career in the Christian singing world and he’s a former football player. My guess — and I am speaking with no special knowledge — is he can’t find a way to reconcile his homosexuality with his Christianity yet. By creating a female, it worked. As angry as people are at Ronaiah Tuiasosopo, I hope he figures out he’s gay and finds a big, butch man to fuck him the way he needs it.

Catfish will thrive

[alert style=”white”] They used to tank cod from Alaska all the way to China. They’d keep them in vats in the ship. By the time the codfish reached China, the flesh was mush and tasteless. So this guy came up with the idea that if you put these cods in these big vats, put some catfish in with them and the catfish will keep the cod agile. And there are those people who are catfish in life. And they keep you on your toes. They keep you guessing, they keep you thinking, they keep you fresh. And I thank god for the catfish because we would be droll, boring and dull if we didn’t have somebody nipping at our fin.
—”Catfish,” 2010[/alert]

Catfish are here to keep us on our toes, or that’s what the documentary that originated the pop culture term suggests. I’m not so convinced. But in today’s impersonal, digital world, it seems to me we all need those connections that cannot be achieved in person for fear of reprisals.

How do you deal with catfish when you discover one? A true catfish can never be trusted. Never. You can’t. And generally, I’ve found the catfish never breaks character. They’re bound to their character. When I discovered one catfish and their real life, I contacted many people from real life including significant other, friends, relatives and more. A catfish is convincing in their real life too and stays dedicated to that character. Each did not believe the strange story I told.

But eventually, they would see it was true. I hope that catfish found a way to get some help and to stop living in fantasy land.

Like everyone else, I crave realness. I think if you bareback, that may be another reason why we do so. We don’t want to keep the distance between two human beings, even if it’s two-millimeters thick in plastic. We want that connection. For barebackers, we put it all out there, exposed. For catfish, they don’t. It’s all murky.

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Older than a 40-Year-Old Virgin

Older than a 40-Year-Old Virgin

When I post on Craigslist, I’ll often get messages from virgins. Generally, that doesn’t bother me. Popping a cherry can be enjoyable in more ways than one.

More often than not, I’ll be the “first” to break a hole in bareback. True that I don’t believe this. While I’m out about my stealthing Opens a new window from this blog, I believe many more tops do it and don’t confess their sin (and I’ve heard from them).

Among the weirdest requests I’ll receive: Break in my 50-year-old virgin ass.

I got such a request today.

First, I cannot fathom someone denying themselves the urge to fill their carnal desires for what amounts to 36 or so years (depending when puberty really kicked in). There’s a societal norm that urges men toward marrying a woman and fucking her pussy, but if you’re a bottom (or a top), I just can’t see keeping your ass (or dick) dry all that time and not experiencing it.

Second, denying yourself that urge through your teens, twenties, thirties and forties to end up in your fifties and beyond, when your ass sags just seems wrong (FYI, my ass is starting to sag, so don’t give me shit about saying that). There’s something mentally deranged about now, in your fifties, thinking, “I’m ready to get fucked.”

Third, do you think I’d think you’re serious after denying those urges for so long that now you’re really going to let some anonymous Craigslist hookup breed your ass? Some guys tend to respond to almost everything. And after a minute, I recognize them so much, I employ filters to weed out their replies. One such replier I did today. He was in his mid-forties, asking for his first fucking. Over the past few years, he’d replied to my ads over a dozen times. I’ve engaged him a few only for him to disappear.

While he might not be into barebacking, between 2009 and today, he’d likely found someone in the Atlanta area to fuck him. He’s not a virgin (unless he’s pretending). I think it’s more likely he’s jerking off to the fantasy of being fucked and not going through with it.

In the end, I have a policy on men older than 40 asking for their rotten cherries to be popped: Hire a hooker. I’m not available to teach you.

It’s nothing to do with being ageist. As I’ve indicated, I’m an equal opportunity fucker Opens a new window from this blog  and, if you match my basics Opens a new window from this blog, I’ll breed you. However, I don’t want to teach old men how to take cock because at their beyond ripe years, they’re probably not serious about it. The only way to prove seriousness — pay for it.

               

I do have one unusual note here. I knew a man who waited until his wife and kids were dead before starting his Gay life. In his seventies, we called him the “lizard man” because of the lizard boots he wore. He had the most horrible smell since he smoked so much. How he made it so long, we never knew. We also never quite figured out what happened that his kids were dead before him.

Nonetheless, the lesson here… don’t wait. Fuck now.

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