Tag Archives: molester

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.

Fast-forward

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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Dark Passengers Series

Dark Passenger: A Funeral I Did Not Attend

I did not go to a funeral this weekend.

My molester finally kicked the bucket and finds himself in descent to hell or whatever suffering in afterlife the asshole deserves. Truth is, I’m not sure I believe in much of an afterlife anymore. But nonetheless, he’s gone.

The funeral was yesterday and family friends attempted to pressure both me and my sister to attend.

Now you must realize most people do not know what this man did to us — more especially, what he did to me,

Today I was speaking with a friend who said he was “floored” by what my sister told him about this wonderful outstanding citizen of the community. My sister refused to attend the funeral because of inappropriate touching of her. This came from the friend as to scold me for not attending the funeral, not in an understanding way.

I then went ahead and gave a brief overview of my abuse. At first, there was disbelief, but I think the margarine incident clinched it.

He broke down into tears and asked me to stop talking. And I was forgiven for not attending the funeral.

But tell me why I cannot sleep tonight. Tell me why it is on my mind?

 

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Dark Passengers Series

Dark Passenger: The Return of Rage

rage

I need to admit the truth. After all, I occasionally run a Confessional here and this is a space for me to be myself.

When I heard of the impending death of my molester, I felt something not unfamiliar: Rage.

For a moment, time stood still, I heard my heart and the moments of my abuse — the pleasurable and the horrible — all came together. That evening, as I wrote, pouring the adrenalin rush into the typing, I wanted desperately to fuck out the bad feeling. I needed a bottom to abuse back. Someone to pummel.

Truth is, when I fuck, it is rare for me to lose  control. I control every movement. Very few men have ever experienced me unleashed. No. Unleashed is the wrong word. The word is unhinged.

If you are a bottom, you may be thinking how hot it would be to experience what might be a Rage Fuck from me. Knowing that physically, I am without the physical prowess to bench-press much or chin-up myself . I don’t have abs or pecs or guns or anything like that. I am not muscular. You’re thinking it wouldn’t be a big deal, especially if indeed you are muscular yourself.

But with almost 30 years of pent-up Rage, if I allowed that to pour out, my system would be overloaded with chemicals that would blind me. Wikipedia remarks that a person experiencing rage “is capable of doing things that may normally seem physically impossible. Those experiencing rage usually feel the effects of high adrenaline levels in the body. This increase in adrenal output raises the physical strength and endurance levels of the person. One’s senses become extremely acute due to the high amounts of adrenaline in the body, and, on the opposite end, this also reduces one’s sensation of pain. People in rage may also experience events in a sort of slow motion. An explanation of this ‘time dilation’ effect is that instead of actually slowing our perception of time, high levels of adrenaline increase our ability to recall specific minutae of an event after it occurs. Since humans gauge time based on the amount of things they can remember, high-adrenaline events such as those experienced during periods of rage seem to unfold more slowly.”

My Rage did not emerge. I did not fuck. I have not released my cum and likely, I won’t let myself release it except in controlled amounts.

I can smell my rage right now. It’s a smell. I can see blood pulse through my eyeballs. It’s returned now. It’s here. Now.

A blog on Men and Rage says, “Rage is commonly brought on by fear a threat to some part of yourself. When you are threatened, your brain instantly reacts with a fight, flight, or freeze response. Rage can also be a reaction to protect deep, deep shame.”

Maybe all of that is true. Maybe I am shamed. Does my shame come from the fact I want to dance on this fucker’s grave?

iBLASTinside Bareback Blog

Mark Bentson, the Raw Top who Breeds Ass Via Gloryholes, Stealthing, Anonymous Gay Sex, Hotel Hook-Ups, Etc.

Warning, This Blog Is Not Safe for Work (NSFW) Or the Humorless Or for Condom Nazis. And check out the Terms of Use.

Bareback Blog iBLASTinside

By Raw Top and Skin-to-Skin Sex Advocate Mark Bentson, Co-founder of the Bareback Brotherhood (#BBBH)

Mark is always looking for Cum Dumps, Porn Stars, Male Escorts, Sex Clubs, Male Strippers, Sleazy Atlanta Information and More

This is an Adult Website. In fact, this is an Adult Gay Website and Bareback Blog.

It’s also a Humorous Website, occasionally employing Sarcasm, Dry Wit and Satire. If your Humor Emulator and/or Tolerance Capabilities have been turned off, it is recommended you go

Oh, okay, it’s not only Adult and Gay, it’s not only Funny and Offensive, it also advocates sexual practices that freak some people out, so thoroughly read the warning below.

If you’re at all worried about anything stated, then you need to go somewhere else like here or here or possibly even here.

Otherwise, check things out.

I am a raw top. This means I stick my bare dick into an ass without a condom.

Bareback. BB. BBBH. #BBBH.

For lube, I prefer spit or someone else’s cum. I do not use condoms and if I do, I sabotage them.

A Quick Guide to iBLASTinside aka Mark Bentson

What you need to know, want to know or just in general I want you to know.

I am a top. I fuck ass any way I can. This isn’t a popular idea, as I get a variety of feedback from praise to detailed death threats.

My cock is a solid 7 inches. It is not huge. It’s not thick. It’s perfectly average (as seen here). The most extraordinary thing about my cock is that it’s rock hard and it tends to stay hard if I’m turned on by the bottom.me and my hard cock

I shoot huge loads. I do not pull out for you to see them. But many bottoms report you can feel me shoot.

I am 49 years old. Yes, that’s ancient, I realize that. But I’m honest. I’m 6 foot 2 inches tall and 255 pounds. I could stand to lose a few pounds but fuck, except for those perfect twentysomethings (and most of us seem perfect then), who shouldn’t?

I’ve got more gray than brown hair (to me, salt & pepper indicates black and gray hair). I’m usually clean-shaven in the spring and summer but usually grow a beard around November for the winter.

I look like a geek. I do not fuck like I look.

I’ve fucked and bred more than 5,000 asses since my first fuck at 15.

I will not simply take a blow job. I don’t jerk off. I don’t use condoms and, if forced to do so, I will take the condom off or worse.

I only breed ass. That’s all that I do. My cum belongs in a man’s ass.

What’s your status? 

I do not answer that question unless we are about to fuck. Sometimes I don’t even answer it then.

I will not fuck you if you smoke or are tweaked out.

Even if you’re a “considerate” or “social” smoker. It won’t happen. So don’t beg.

Want to contact me?

Here’s My BarebackRT profile and E-Mail contact.

Fuck Without Fear

Do you want my cock and cum in your ass? It can happen.

Controversial reading material. Not safe for work. #NSFW. But if you like to jerk off, there’s plenty of material here for you to enjoy. Chances are, you will.

Additionally, this site does have a serious side to it. Not only do I address my mid-life crisis and being sexually molested as a youth, I also cover being bullied and ultimately fired at work.

This is one of many bareback blogs, by an active barebacker who fucks raw on purpose. I’ve fucked thousands of men and this blog discusses how I mark my territory with DNA and the Jizzjoy experience that some bottoms feel.

Additionally, I’ve endorsed bottoms I’ve fucked as well men I want to fuck with my Broken Virginity Seal of Approval. So if you’ve got a problem with that, please go search for something else.

I believe plastic is terrific for storing food or protection on the pitch, but not when it comes to intimate acts between men. I write a blog with somewhat regular updates and I’ve also got some terrific tips on visiting a gay bathhouse, gloryhole etiquette, a guide to poppers and my own theories of how the male population breaks down.

I’m also quite controversial for stealthing. What is stealthing? Of course all the information is available here plus tips on how to stealth.

As a resident of the Atlanta area, I also review what the A-T-L offers when it comes to the sleazy side of things. I make sure to highlight sex clubs, adult bookstores and male stripper bars like Swinging Richards or go-go boy dancer bars like BJ Roosters. If I’m missing something, please let me know.

I’m even willing to endorse individuals with my Broken Virginity Seal of Approval, for those folks I know who are really willing to meet and fuck.

If you’re curious about me, you can always get in touch with me easily or follow me on Twitter. I’m also on BarebackRT under the same name. And I like getting to know my readers as well as meeting them and fucking them.

February 2014 Update: New Open Letter to Bottoms Interested in Getting Fucked by iBLASTinside

Why Do You Bareback?

Because condoms are for pussies and not for assholes.

What is Stealthing?We’ve created boner pills and made all sorts of medical advances, the one thing I can’t comprehend is why we’ve not found ways to allow intimacy between two men.

Instead, we continue to insist that a plastic barrier between two humans is the best protection.

Moreover, with everything else in the world that’s labeled dangerous, we make it optional — cigarettes, alcohol, fatty foods, seat belts, driving too fast, recreational drug use, etc. Instead, society — even gay men — demonize this one act.

An alcoholic, meth sniffing, smoker with syphilis who happens to use a condom is more accepted in the gay community that a healthy, negative, STD-free, HIV-negative barebacker.

That is fucked up.

I spent my youth paralyzed in fear with every sexual encounter, avoiding contact with any bodily fluids.

Then suffering for weeks (when it took longer) to get my tests back.

At some point, I decided to stop worrying and to start living.

If I got hit by a bus or some other tragic act, I would regret not having real sex with men.

Do You Believe in Monogamy?

In simple terms, no. Monogamy does not and cannot exist between two men. I will never dedicate myself to only one hole to fuck. And I prefer that any hole I fuck have had other men and their sperm inside it.

With any sexual encounter, you should always carefully consider your options and make conscious choices, knowing the possible results of your decisions. You should be fully aware of your surroundings and the activities of all participants, especially knowing that everyone is not trustworthy, no matter how many muscles he has or how big his cock is. If you choose to use condoms and you are the bottom, consider bringing your own condoms and compatible lube. Remember, the only truly “safe sex” is sex alone or no sex at all.

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Dark Passengers Series

Dark Passenger: The Beginning of Me

Ending the fucked up relationship with my molester caused me to develop an appetite for sex. After all, I was a 15-year-old boy. While my friendship with the straight classmate couldn’t endure school starting again, I had discovered the bathrooms at stores that would abate my sexual appetite.

Lucky for me, my parents went to “town” on a weekly basis — just like clockwork. Even better, the bathroom at the discount department store (a predecessor to modern-day Target) turned out to be frequented by cocksuckers.

So every week, we’d go and I’d wander through the store only to end up at the bathroom in the back. And usually every week, I’d get sucked off under the stall.

Weekly, this would happen. The quality of men turned out to be less than attractive. But even me — a thin, pimply faced, geeky kid — got sucked greedily by men. I’d come to recognize different shoes of the frequenters there (one old man I would never forget and always avoid) and quality of suck jobs (some better, some worse).

Rarely would I engage in a conversation and, since I relied heavily on my parents for transportation, my only choice in these circumstance turned out to be the blowjob. As I think back, I don’t recall having the desire to fuck ass or to suck cock in return. I used men, much the way I do now, but I didn’t recognize it as “using.”

I got off. Men wanted to suck me off. So I let them. In a way, I was a passive top. I got it hard and they could do what they liked. I still enjoy that scene on occasion — an aggressive bottom just using me as his play toy. My cock isn’t as big as all those dildos from porn stars, but it’s a helluva lot warmer and it spurts my own little joy juice.

And, in a way, I continued to be molested. I chose that path. I let it happen. Men continued it. Men wanted to. I wanted men to.

 

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