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The Not-So-Sleazy Information on Atlanta

I’m often asked where to stay or information on what else there is to do in Atlanta. Well, folks, God made Google for a reason. I’m not your concierge.

That said, I don’t want to leave you completely in the dark when it comes to visiting Atlanta. I know how much it sucks to try and figure out what the hell is going on, where in Waldo am I and how can I get people to fuck me or get me some people to fuck.

Allow me to help you out a little.

An Overall View of Atlanta

Atlanta-Overall

Atlanta was burned during the Civil War. While that may have little to do with what’s going on with you coming to town, that actually means something. Unlike Boston, New York or other northeastern major cities, Atlanta’s rebuilding came at a time when streets were widened for carriages and, not too long after, cars. This is a city for cars and practically everyone has one.

Unlike Washington, D.C., San Francisco or other such major cities, Atlanta’s public transportation system (known as MARTA) has not adapted well to the sprawling metropolis. The working public may take it for their 9-to-5 jobs, but only if it’s convenient and — for much of Atlanta’s population — MARTA is not convenient.

Because practically nothing is within walking distance and because Atlanta is a city of cars, our areas are largely little islands that MARTA does not connect. Other than the Tourist Center area, the sidewalks will mostly fold up after 6 p.m. unless you happen to be lucky enough to be staying next to a chain restaurant.

Taxi cabs aren’t cheap because, more than likely, you’ll be traveling dozens of miles to your location. Keep in mind when you see someone on Grindr or Scruff, it’s plotting the location as the bird flies. If you actually get an address, you’ll route it to find it two to three times the distance in driving. Therefore, something that seems like 13 miles — infinitely not that far — turns into a 45-minute drive.

Above, I’ve highlighted a few locations the map missed.

OTP and ITP

In Atlanta, we call the interstate around the city, “The Perimeter.” It’s also known as I-285. For short, people live either OTP or ITP, which stands for “outside the Perimeter” or “inside the Perimeter.”

Just as in other cities, there’s a bias by those who live ITP to those who live OTP. I live OTP. ITP bottoms think I have to drag my cock to them all the time. Oh well, there’s plenty of ass OTP too.

Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport and Fuck, I’m Lost, Which Way Is This Damn Subway Train Going?

They say when you die, whether you’re going to heaven, hell or purgatory, you’ll connect through the Atlanta airport.

I think Hartsfield-Jackson probably is purgatory.

I’ve traveled enough that maneuvering through ATL is easy for me and I don’t even pay attention much any more, but I know it’s confusing as hell. But I wanted you to see on the map just how fucking far the airport is from Downtown, Midtown, Buckhead or any place else you might be staying.

If you have any hint that you might take the MARTA train to some station then grab a bus or some such, don’t do it. Either rent a car (there’s a new fabulous rental terminal connected by above-ground train to the main domestic terminal near baggage claim) or get a car service. It’s worth the $20 to $30 you will pay because you will be traveling through some of the worse neighborhoods in Atlanta to get to your destination.

A Fuzzy Feeling About Peaches

Georgia is the Peach State and, even though South Carolina rivals in production of the fruit, Georgias take love the luscious flesh seriously. Don’t let some asshole tell you to go to “Peachtree” as if there’s only one such street. There’s more than 200 streets and roads with “peachtree” in the name in the Atlanta area. You’re seriously fucked.

Slut-Town

Let’s get it out of the way. Not everything slutty, sleazy and fun is located here but a fuck-ton is. You’re going to find Inserection Opens a new window from this blog, BJ Roosters Opens a new window from this blog, Bliss Opens a new window from this blog, Eros Opens a new window from this blog, Manifest Opens a new window from this blog, the Heretic Opens a new window from this blog and all the Hookup Hotels Opens a new window from this blog.

And these are the places I’ll go.

You will discover there’s other places you might like around there, although who knows. I’ve explored, but some parts of the underbelly I don’t have access to because (1) I don’t do drugs and (2) I’m not a minority.

Downtown

Atlanta-hotels-downtownIf you’re attending a conference, chances are you’ll end up in one of these four hotels. However, if you have a choice, do not stay in the Marriott Marquis, Hyatt Regency, Westin Peachtree Plaza or the W Hotel.

None of these have decent parking for your visiting fucks.

You’ll also pay a lot of cash per night for parking if you have a rental.

If you’re on the company expense account, I personally love the W. Well, any of the W Hotels are great. But unless it’s someone I really know already, I will not come down to meet someone because I generally believe there’s a 50-50 chance someone’s lying about who he is or where he’s located.

While there seems to be a lot to do around here and it thrives during the day, at night, it’s a ghost-town.

Just as a public service information, these hotels are the best in the city with the exception of the Four Seasons, Ritz-Carlton and Omni. This is also about the closest to the Flex Opens a new window from this blog bathhouse.

Tourist Center

Atlanta-hotels-tourist-centerThe only part of town that seems to come alive at night is around this section of Atlanta surrounding Centennial Olympic Park, the centerpiece of the 1996 Atlanta Olympics (what a clusterfuck). If you’re coming to town for a convention and you register early enough, you won’t be stuck in the Downtown hotels west of here and end up in the lovely Omni or perhaps the Embassy Suites.

Don’t miss the World of Coke and Georgia Aquarium (you can do them both in an afternoon) and the CNN Tour is great as well (CNN Center is adjacent to the Omni). The Falcons play at the Georgia Dome (although they just approved to build a new stadium). Americas Mart is nearby as well.

Buckhead

Buckhead has been trendy since I was a kid so, fuck, it really can’t be trendy. Yet it seems to always keep up. Likely you’ll be near Atlanta’s first mall, Lenox Square, which is catty-cornered across from the upscale Phipps Plaza.

Good news staying here: Lenox Road provides a straight shot to (and basically turns into) Cheshire Bridge Road, the main strip in Slut-Town. Therefore, if you want to stay Slut-Town adjacent, stay near Lenox Square in Buckhead.

Cumberland/Galleria

Reaching out into the suburbs but not quite getting there are another two malls, Cumberland and the Galleria, across the streets from each other and at the intersections of I-75 and I-285. At the border of Atlanta, Marietta and Smyrna, several businesses find this as a hub, so if you’re coming to town on a company, you might end up staying here.

There’s a Renaissance and a Marriott here at the top tier then a few others down to the Days Inn and a Red Roof. If there’s a fuck-and-go situation and someone isn’t staying on the east side of town, they’re likely over here, usually on Windy Hill Road. These are never as successful as the others in Slut-Town at the Hookup Hotels, but I find them more convenient.

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Behind Dead Eyes… A Return to Breed a Third Load

Behind Dead Eyes… A Return to Breed a Third Load

The text message appeared: “I’m horny.”

Let’s admit that I did like the bottom in my entries from Behind Dead Eyes Opens a new window from this blog. Perhaps that creeped him out a little or the fact he never liked that I implied he had “dead eyes.” Instead, it’s a metaphor for the protective wall he builds around himself and that inner being.

After our time of debauchery at the bookstore Opens a new window from this blog, we’d texted a bit but not met up again.

“I am too,” I responded.

“I want cum,” he wrote.

“I’ll give you some,” I typed back.

As it turned out, I was downtown and would be glad to hit the bookstore yet again. A few more of his coy questions and my to-the-bone answers.

I had an appointment but once it was over, I wanted to fuck him. That was the only reason to drive over and pay the $11 admission. Once I admitted to having my good poppers Opens a new window from this blog, I got the green light. I made a left instead of a right and headed toward one of the best asses ever.

And I mean best asses.

It’s usual for me to really look forward to seeing someone. I’ll admit my crush on this boy. There’s chemistry there, even if he can’t admit there’s any. And we fuck well.

I arrived, whipping into a parking place. I plunged into the darkness and throbbing environment of sexual scents, Pine Sol and satellite radio.

He stood along the edge of one of the banks of booths on the basement floor, not far from the entrance. Approaching him, he spoke under his breath, “You have to act like you don’t know me.”

My anticipation fluttered a little. I missed a beat, but I recovered and made the walk upstairs to the rooms.

Within moments, he joined me.

He wore a strange combination of a stretched out tank under a button down. This flashback to the Flash Dance 1980s look seemed strange to me since I recalled the original look. Here I am in jeans and a t-shirt and he appeared so perfectly coiffed. He walked past me into a room. I followed.

He started removing his clothing immediately and I did the same, inquiring whether I should lock the door. He shrugged, a hallmark of his usual indecision. But I didn’t care.

He stripped completely naked and went to sucking my cock, getting it hard. His oral skills undeniably good. Then he crouched on the mattress, ass in the air.

As I did before, I went in for food. I ate his ass, spreading my meal wide. Oh how delicious his hole proved to be. So good! I’ve ate many asses in my day. His just perfection, just lovely, just nice. The soft hairs never wiry and adding to the opening up, never detracting from the effort to open the hole.

With a little more spit as I pushed my tongue into his pucker and deep pink, I stood and began to push my cock into him.

I’d handed him the poppers earlier and he’d been sniffing them already, but now he really snorted them as my seven inches invaded his interior.

Oh my fucking God, how his ass was so damn tight and molded perfectly around my cock. In a way, it felt as if I was pushing my cock into clay.

He moaned. I pushed. I’d pull back a little and push farther in.

Soon, I made it all the way.

I looked down to see this almost perfect hourglass shape. His smooth body. His back and upper chest wide, his waist going smaller and then that ass, the widest of all. Not fat, but perfect. And as I plunged inside it, just wonderful.

And in a way, I just hit paydirt.

Pumping in him deep once, I felt something. Oh so warm. Oh. This was a new sensation. Like I’d popped through to a new place, this warmth began to trickle down past my cockhead and tickle my balls, some dripping off and some running down my legs.

I inquired to be sure and disappointingly discovered I was the first to be fucking his ass, so all I felt was water. Knowing this bottom’s routine, I knew it was clean and nothing to worry about. No scents or anything other than the unusual sensation that enthused me a little. If only I’d been squishing around a little extra cum as well.

The door to the room opened. I’d not locked in.

In walked an older white man and not at all attractive followed by an older African American who turned out to be a little fat. I didn’t mind the audience. He urged me on, wanting to eat the cum out of the bottom’s ass after I was done.

As I fucked more, the little trickle of water turned more into a gush of water and I really enjoyed that sensation of warm water along my balls that now cooled in the air. I borrowed the poppers and took a sniff.

I fucked harder. More gusto.

“You want my load?”

“Give it to me!” he said. “Give me your load.”

The trolls agreed.

And I went into a place where my cock and the bottom’s ass  just existed together. The water now emptied out, I replaced it with my flood into his guts with my cum. I throbbed. I buried to the hilt and stood still, letting my cock deposit all my seed into his ass. I pushed it in as deep as I could and then pulled it out as his ass sealed up behind my extracting rod.

My bottom friend objected to the trolls even touching him and we kicked them out, now the festivities were over. And he turned horrified at the splattered water on the mattress, not to mention me. Even with my promise that I enjoyed it, he just couldn’t believe how much came out.

I kissed him for the first time as he began putting on his clothes. Oh, how well he kissed.

“I’ll see you later,” I said.

“You’re leaving?”

“I came here just to fuck you,” I replied.

“Really?”

“Really,” I said. “Take care.”

And I left.

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