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Travel Diary: Velvet Vice

Travel Diary: Velvet Vice

I lived in Washington, D.C., for more than a decade. Then again, it was a decade ago when I lived here and bred asses here.

When I return on my visits, it’s always nice to check out the new crop to breed. And there are. What I forget about the D.C. area is the attitude.

When I first moved here as a graduate student in my early twenties, this city held hope for my social life. As began to frequent my first gay bars, I soon felt that hope dwindle into the embers of burning hatred for anything remotely close to social gathering places of gay men that lack any nudity.

On this visit, I am inaccessible by Metro, which means most people avoid such hook-ups like they’re somewhere 200 miles in orbit above the planet, where there’s a total lack of oxygen and inaccessible except via special dispensation from NASA.

deephole4loadsThe Velvet Vice Hole

This is impossibly good ass came to me, though.

This bottom has a hole that deserves a whole book. The perfect hole is a rare find. I do not find it. I find many asses to fuck. Many enjoyable.

Few cause me to lose it.

This one did.

His name on BarebackRT.com is DeepHole4Loads. You can see the perfection of the photo.

His ass. His muscular toned body. But great photos are a dime a dozen. I’ve seen hundreds of great photos only to fuck a mediocre ass.

His suck job on arrive was above average. He proved to be good. I tickled his ass with my finger. He’d told me two previous loads had been deposited earlier and he’d offered to have them cleaned out. But I told him to leave them in.

His hole lacked any hard ridge. With the pucker had a nice ring of hair, it could have been smooth… almost perfectly so.  My fingertip slipped inside and could feel the familiar warmth I’d associated with a nice ass.

No cum had leaked near the hole, which told me this little cunt soaked up all the cum he could.

As I prepared to fuck his as, I couldn’t help but lick it a little. He’d already spit on his hand to supply the lube for the ass for my cock. But I wanted to add mine to the mix.

His asshole opened as soon as my tongue touched it and I could hear him groan. He snorted some poppers. The way his ass grabbed at the tip of my tongue, I couldn’t hold off long before I mounted him.

My cock slipped inside. Easily. This man was a natural bottom. His ass immediately contoured to the shape of my cock. He didn’t need a moment to adjust. And he didn’t thrust one way or another. He let me set the pace.

I like a bottom who knows who is in control. I fucked him, but his ass just kept up the perfection in massaging my cock.

I couldn’t distinguish where his sphincter wrapped around me. His hole tightly grabbed my cock and held on. He wanted me.

“Use my dirty cunt,” he whispered.

“You like men to fuck you raw, don’t you?” I said.

“I like my cunt used,” he said.

“I love cum.”

I wrapped my arm around him and my hand around his throat. As I pumped his ass slowly and deliberately, I tried to hold off.

But his ass just held on to my cock like a velvet vice. Before I knew it, my cum began to boil and I began my orgasm.

I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t control it. I just… happened.

I felt his pulse quicken under my hand. He knew I was cumming, at least on a subconscious level.

He groaned. “You want my cum?” I asked.

“Pump it in my dirty cunt,” he said.

Through the blinding strain of my orgasm, I kept it up. “You’re getting my load man,” I said.

This man experienced jizzjoy. He wanted it. He got it.

I stayed inside him and pumped it deeper. He left later, off to find another load.

I would hope to pump him again.

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I've been on a bit of a dry spell

Dune… Desert Planet… Dry Spell While I’m Working to Find a New Job. Anyone Care to Help?

Coincidental that I’m rereading the Frank Herbert classic Dune and experiencing a dry spell at the same time.

Truth is I could get more ass if I tried but here lately, my focus as been finding another job — not that any of you give a shit about my mundane life. If you want to read about sex, go search some sex term or skip to another entry.

Help Me Find a New Job

For those of you who don’t know, I’m in marketing with a digital emphasis. I can do it all and am at a senior level. I’m just about ready to jump into a vice president role somewhere. If you know of anything out there, please let me know Opens a new window from this blog.

My career includes extraordinary work and let’s just say I know what I’m doing (after all, I am the man who established the #BBBH hashtag on Twitter). This blog is about my sexual escapades and I wouldn’t mind working in the sex industry or along the fringes. That said, I never have and I enjoy working in a more traditional medium. In fact, I’ve worked in computers, electronics, media, healthcare and manufacturing.

If you’ve ever heard the overly trite phrase “thinking outside the box,” I don’t even see a box. My creative ideas take great risks and almost always come with phenomenal rewards. Some of my results were so astounding that the manufacturing company for which I worked had a six-month backlog after a two-week promotion I ran. The company also went from no presence in social media to first place in its marketplace in less than a year.

Other highlights of my work…

  • Strong branding development and strategy throughout my career.
  • (Obviously) terrific writing, communication and adept at presentations (PowerPoint, Keynote, etc.).
  • Built multiple mobile applications for smart phones with fun and practical applications to further the brand.
  • Integrated the use of QR codes in retail point-of-presence materials and print advertisements.
  • Built and launched more than 500 websites — from tiny sites to blogs to personalized, database-driven, mammoth sites; always made sure those websites work with mobile browsers on tablets and phones; many websites are content management system-based and I’ve trained personnel how to best use the website.
  • Developed international websites with multiple languages using automatic detection of geographic location for best possible visitor experience.
  • Provided guidance through the basic discovery and design process including information architecture and search engine optimization (SEO) for websites.
  • Created strategies, especially for online growth. One consumer website grew from 1.1 million to 2 million visitors in one year using a combination of SEO, search engine marketing (SEM), microsites and social media.
  • Trained thousands of retailers in online marketing techniques to further their relationship with current consumer trends, bringing more consumers onto websites and into stores, significantly improving sales.
  • Developed and executed massive campaigns with multi-tiered aspects utilizing several third-party companies and hundreds of personnel successfully.
  • Ran public relations efforts including national satellite media tours.
  • Cast television personalities as spokespeople for brands successfully, maintaining multiple years in developing television commercials and online presence.
  • Developed YouTube channel for brand that now draws more than 300 viewers every day only two years after establishment.
  • Created unique social media approach taking a company from non-existent to first place in its marketplace category in about six months.
  • Flawless execution of events and convention, maintaining branding and delivering excitement.
  • Creative SEM and online advertising including conquesting and other strategies to best deliver new potential customers.
  • Developed web and social media syndication systems for major brands to help allow multilevel messaging from corporate to local.
  • Integrated all digital marketing aspects with traditional advertising for maximum boost to any campaign and seamless unification.
Okay, maybe that’s plenty to highlight my work. I’ve done a lot in my career and I’ve got a lot more I can do.

Sexual Harassment Positions Welcomed

You want to be my boss and get my cock and cum on occasion? I don’t mind. I’m glad to provide.

We can be colleagues and I’ll even fuck you.

I’m someone who doesn’t let sex get in the way of work. In fact, it would be great to have an on-site fuck or someone I travel with on occasion and we can fuck around together or just be each other’s wing-man.

I’m also willing to move practically anywhere in the U.S., Canada or the U.K. for a job. I’ll consider other parts of the world like Australia but not sure about non-English speaking or intolerant parts of the planet like the Middle East (for some reason, a lot of marketing jobs seem to be opening up there). Still, if it’s the right opportunity and the right fit, I’ll take it.

Now, Why I’m Looking for a New Job

Venting Here, So You May Want to Skip This Part

You might recall I was out of work for just three days short of a year when I finally got this job. A position with much promise and a fuckload of travel including visits to the San Francisco Bay area. That part I loved.

However, promises made to me were not promises kept.

Here comes some venting… something I really can’t put anywhere else.

My direct supervisor is not well liked among colleagues, although the C-level seems to approve. All of those colleagues — to whom I had responsibilities — made my work a living hell since they dislike my supervisor. One of my staff members appears to have had an inappropriate relationship with my supervisor and therefore refused to report to me.

Despite gallant efforts on my own part, I could never seem to get the management group to align with any concept on the most basic level. This meant that I couldn’t get all the managers to agree to a single branding message.

I made superb headway with the company website in a short period, increasing qualified visitors and decreasing a lot of the folks who came by mistake. The company purchases a lot of Google pay-per-click ads and I’d made significant headway in improving those results, making sure the clicks resulted in legitimate, potential customers rather than wasting between $2.50 to $14 per click. Before I arrived, some months more than 90 percent of the monthly online ad budget was wasted on bogus clicks. In two months, I’d gotten it down to less than 53 percent and it was dropping further.

Despite this empirical evidence, all the managers began freaking out when less people were clicking through — even though each click turned out to be a more qualified person. In other words, they’d rather see 1,000 clicks where less than 10 percent would be a potential customer instead of 600 clicks where 47 percent might make a sales inquiry.

Between that and the pure hatred between my supervisor and pretty much everyone else, and I had no chance to survive.

I haven’t lost my job, but I see the handwriting. It’s funny how everyone outside the situation can see my competence and respect my skills and experience. Seems to me anyone who has two decades under his or her belt brings something to the table. Everyone within my circle of influence doesn’t give a shit.

Therefore, yet another refresh on my resume and pinging all the recruiters again. Keeping my finger crossed this won’t be another 12-month ordeal since the handwriting is pretty damn plain and I likely won’t last that long.

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The Problem with Bisexuals

The Problem with Bisexuals

I’ve never truly believed in bisexuals. Okay, I believe people can be bisexual, but I don’t think men teeter-totter in the center between straight and gay.

As I wrote when I broke down the male population, Kinsey’s scale creates the only perfect spot in the middle of purely heterosexual (a zero) and purely homosexual (a six) if you place it at 3½. Most men will end up at a 3 or a 4, not directly in the middle.

Alas, that brings me to the spot I am now with a young man with whom I am debating. He so much wants to be used and abused as a bottom on his gay side yet maintain his use of women on his straight. He likes to think he can teeter-totter between the two worlds.

Or better yet, he thinks he can make a choice and then abide by it.

It’s as if someone who enjoys both pizza and cheeseburgers when, one day, he chooses to only eat cheeseburgers and avoid pizza for the rest of his life. Can he truly make such a transition?

Of course not.

I mean, bisexuals are pigs. There’s nothing hotter than a bi boy begging for your load — unless it’s a straight boy. But somehow fooling yourself into thinking you’ll actually join our club full-time is bullshit.

Now why am I not coming down hard on this little fucker and claiming he’s just another closet case who needs to get honest? Cause the honest truth is he’s fucked 10 times more girls than guys who have fucked him. It’s disappointing. If I had easy access, I’d try to train him into a cum-craving bottom like he should be.

But my best talent is a good read. And what I read is someone in conflict who won’t go quietly into a full-time life as a Kinsey 6.

This one, we lose.

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Straight Men Are Pigs…And Really Easy

Straight Men Are Pigs…And Really Easy

I’ve had my Android cell phone (and its associated number) for almost 18 months but I’ll still get text messages for “Mac.” Mac must be a big jokester because as I tell these fuckers that I’m not Mac, they never believe me. Never. So usually I begin spouting offensive Gay stuff a straight musclehead like Mac would never say.

I have no idea who Mac is but through all the text messages, I’ve learned about him because folks have asked training advice, asked about his girlfriend, suggested he checked out this or that band, etc.

The other day, I get a photo of a man holding a rather small large-mouth bass. I inform him that I’m not Mac and he’s got the wrong number.

“Sure thing, you Jack-Wagon. Whatever!” He responds.

“I’m not Jack either.” I answer back.

“Okay then, Mr. Wagon to you!”

The guy isn’t getting it. So I go blue: “Unless you’re someone who likes to suck cock, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Not my thing,” he sends back. “But you be proud of whatever you’re good at!”

I hate people who love exclamation points: “I hold my own. And I swallow cum. Do you cum a lot?”

“When I want to!” he responds.

“I fuck ass really well,” I shoot back. “Especially a beefy ass like yours.”

There was a long pause. He seemed to be getting that Mac might not be texting him now. Then I received an apology that indeed, he realized that I wasn’t Mac, that he was married and he thought we were just “joking around.”

“Well, I’m not joking,” I typed back. “I’ll give you the best, most intense time you’ll ever have.”

A pause, then: “My wife takes care of me. You should spend some time reading the bible. The lord can help change your life.”

Fuck. One of those closet cases taking refuge in religion. But I went for it.

“Does she swallow?”

He kept saying how his wife was wonderful and beautiful and took care of him but never answered the question, which I always pointed out. Sometimes these Bible-thumpers can’t help but be honest, even about the most offensive shit like this.

Finally he answered: “No. She won’t even put her mouth there.”

“I would,” I said. “And I’d enjoy it.”

The remaining content fluctuates between his religious guilt and the intrigue of having his cock sucked. I worked the details of my tongue and how it would feel, the sensation and how hard he would cum. How I would savor the flavor. How I would never say, “No,” to his requests.

It took a little magic, but the male testosterone took hold and soon I was driving toward the man’s house. His wife was out of town, thus giving him the chance to go fishing on a weekday. His home nestled near a local lake. I arrived and could see just off to the distance his little boat tied to a dock down the hill from the nondescript house in an older subdivision. A black, shiny Ford F-150 parked in the driveway and a dried-flower wreath on the door.

He answered the door, beefy, solid, dirty blond and about 5-foot-10. He hadn’t shaved but it seemed like he’d cleaned up a bit, wearing a fresh t-shirt and basketball shorts. His handshake was solid if a little hesitant. He invited me in and closed the door, locking it.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Just take me somewhere comfortable,” I said. “Maybe where you can watch porn.”

“We don’t have any,” he said. “My wife won’t allow it.”

“That’s cool,” I said. “Just someplace where you’re comfortable.”

We went upstairs to what I figure was a guest room and he sat on the edge of the bed. I closed the door. On the cloudy afternoon, the blinds and sheers cut much of the light. I knelt in front of him and began to move my hand toward his crotch. He started to move away and say something, but I stopped him.

“Close your eyes, lay back,” I said. “Just relax.”

I resumed my massage as he did as I commanded. Soon I could feel his cock thickening as I reached up inside his leg and touched his cock on the outside of his boxers. It took a few moments before I had him lifting his ass off the bed so I could strip his shorts off him and begin a proper blowjob. He chubbed up to a nice six inches and thick, not too hard but not completely soft. A mouthful. His fuzzy blondish brown hair all over and unkempt. But I sucked him and licked his balls. I varied the speed and worked him all over, licking places he’d never felt a tongue.

I moved my hands up under his shirt and touched his furry chest and found large nipples. One little touch and each stood firm and began to poke up. He even pulled up his shirt for easier access. He moaned and groaned as I began to work him into a frenzy.

But I did not come here to make him happy.

I did pause long enough to come up for air and actually lick his nipples. This was the first time I saw his eyes open and look at the man providing him so much pleasure and then clamp back closed. He kept his hands at his side, gripping the quilt on the bed.

Then I moved south, back to his cock, around it and down to his balls and finally down to his taint, scooping around the back of his legs and lifting his legs up. Before he could protest, my tongue went to work.

Pretty soon I was at his pucker and I worked it over well. He’d indeed showered and the smell of Zestfully clean along with the taste for he’d failed to wash away all the hint of soap. But I kept working the folds and added more magical spit in to filter out the flavor. His hole opened up like a natural bottom’s would, as I knew. And I poked a couple of fingers inside while flicking my tongue across the balls and other places that tickled his fancy.

When I returned to the head of his cock, a pool of precum nestled in the hairy treasure trail and I knew he’d only need one more trip around the world before I’d be able to shove my cock in his ass.

Nipples, cock, balls, taint, ass, taint, balls, cock and nips. By then, I’d pulled my cock out and lubed it with my spit.

When I was at his nipples, I had his legs up and teased his hole. I then replaced it with my cockhead which slid inside easily. When it hit the second sphincter was when his eyes opened a second time and he began to move away.

I was ready for this.

I grabbed his thighs and pulled down.

“No,” he whispered.

“Your cock says yes,” I whispered back.

“But…” he began, almost seeming to cry, but I could feel his throbbing cock — now harder than ever — against my belly.

“Just relax.”

I pushed inside him again and this time past that opening into him. And then I hit the prostate.

He gasped, as if he were dying and there were no air. This time he reached for my legs and actually pulled me toward him.

Natural bottom.

“OH MY GAWD!”

His eyes flew open, but the pupils seemed to roll into the back of his head.

Suddenly a torrent of clear liquid began to pour from his cockhead. I could feel a little throbbing inside his ass. I didn’t want him to cum yet so I remained perfectly still and purred at him to relax.

The tenseness of his body soon left him and I began a small hip motion, rocking my cock a bit and fucking my raw cock inside his virgin hole. As I fucked this little straight boy, I picked up pace and felt him beginning to move in concert with me, but opposite, to allow deeper penetration. His eyes had shut but he was enjoying the experience. I reached down to my poppers, knowing his distraction wouldn’t notice so I could take a firm whiff of them. I did and felt my cum boil in my balls.

I began fucking him like I meant it and he loved it. I spit on my hand as I neared by own orgasm and reached for his cock at the moment when I went blind with ecstasy. My sperm flooded his guts and I loaded him with my DNA as I grasped his thick, rigid cock and began to pump. My other hand found his right nipple and I pinched — a little too hard.

His ass clamped down as I pushed my spunk in him deeper. His first shot came as I opened my eyes. It went over his head, over the bed, across the room and splattered on the wall. The next six or seven came within short order and were less intense, but in the end a string of cum lined from his cockhead to the wall about seven feet away.

As his breathing began to normalize, his hands came up over his eyes and covered himself in shame.

I’d already zipped up and tucked away my softening cock, gently laying him down and leaving him in the darkened room. I didn’t speak to him as I left and I haven’t texted him. He hasn’t messaged me. Yet.

Yes, this is the real photo he texted me (just with the face blurred).

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Good Top, Bad Top, Evil Top, Glad Top

Good Top, Bad Top, Evil Top, Glad Top

Morality is a funny thing. I’m so used to being told that I’m bad, evil and going to hell by the radical right, it just seems to roll off me like I’m coated in Rain-X and it’s a light shower. It doesn’t even bother me. So when some members of the Gay community — even barebackers with their own questionable place to stand on a position of greater morality — begin to question whether I might be “good” or “bad,” one is left with a little Judge Not Lest Ye Be Judged in your soul.

Sometimes I feel like the slut about to be stoned.

Nonetheless, it’s not anything like the OTHER 99 PERCENT or a goodly chunk of the unemployed — of which I am one. We attempt to find work, fill out countless forms online, write, rewrite, rewrite, recast, alter, edit, reformat, update and rewrite our resumes again only to go on job interviews that look promising then some fucktard in the 1 percent decides his gold parachute needs more diamonds and platinum encrusting so he decides to announce a hiring freeze.

Sex is one of those things in which we have completely under our control. It’s not the color of our skin, our birthplace or luck. Sex isn’t a roll of the die. It is a choice whether we engage with a stranger or date for a time.

We have to remove the morality from fucking. It just simply doesn’t work. What does is personal accountability. Now you can run to a dictionary and splice terms with me but I’ll give you my basic lesson difference between responsibility and accountability.

Responsibility is being able to answer for one’s conduct and obligations to another person, group or entity.

Accountability is being able to answer for one’s conduct and obligations to oneself. 

We need not rely on anyone else. The choices are our own. With sex, you are accountable only to oneself.

If you’re fucked up enough to turn your back on someone holding a loaded gun who swears they won’t fire it into your backside, then you need to have your head examined.

Hate me if you want, but there’s a lesson to be learned here. Better you read and learn than fuck and regret.

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