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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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By a Cell Phone Light…

By a Cell Phone Light…

The choices in an adult bookstore — at least the adult bookstore here in Atlanta Opens a new window from this blog — includes gloryholes Opens a new window from this blog, private rooms and a darkroom. Those are one’s three choices to indulge in the hedonism.

The holiday season hadn’t invaded this place. Not even the music bothered to pulse with any musical beat beyond the normal dance jams with more urban tones. I’d made a couple of loops. My cock had been stroked and sucked through a gloryhole or two. The private rooms had been occupied a lot. I’d had enough time to find the men in whom I wanted to see my cock slide first.

Among them, a beefy Latino, wide chest, short and stout. Look like a good chest. But his favorite destination seemed to be the darkroom.

Now I don’t tend to favor the darkroom. It isn’t because I don’t enjoy darkrooms. However, trolls lurk there.

Some of you younger bucks may be asking, “What are trolls?”

Trolls tend to be older men (but can be of any age) who horn in on others having good sex and make it bad.

Age honestly has nothing to do with a troll, but trolls simply suck at sex (not in a good way) and they can’t figure out how to improve their sexual prowess. Yet they insist on entering into others’ fun and ruining it for all. In fact, trolls seem to delight in this.

No matter how ugly, how old, how black, how brown, how young or whatever one’s lot in life, your ass should be pink and juicy on the inside. Within certain constraints Opens a new window from this blog, I will fuck and breed you. But trolls are off limits.

I politely push them away. Some are more persistent than others. Those will ruin a fuck.

Back to the hot, stout Latino in the military haircut wearing the unfortunate white, striped sweater.

A little tip: If you’re going a place with a darkroom, choose dark clothes and don’t wear anything with a logo so people can recognize you.

I followed him into the room. As I entered, it took a moment for me to make out the shadows of the men. His was the shortest, of course, over near the corner and I moved toward him, brushing up against him. He responded in kind and reached for my crotch. I unbuttoned and before long he was down on his knees sucking.

His technique lacked focus and he couldn’t go deep, even with someone like me who didn’t really challenge anyone. My cock is just at seven inches, so my cockhead will just touch the back of most people’s throats. Sure, you’ll gag but it’s not like I’ll really stop you from breathing.

He kept his head bobbing shallow, supplementing with his hands and even licked my balls, which I loved. I completely dropped my trousers (all my valuables were locked in the car) so other men were feeling my ass and even one went down to share a lick on my balls. It wasn’t bad.

I tried to hint to my little guy I wanted ass, bending over and reaching into the gap in his jeans where his ass crack happened to be. I would touch his smooth ass. But he kept sucking.

In this darkness, I wasn’t the only one getting sucked. Darkness inspires whispers and silence for some reason. I’m a quiet guy anyway.

But there arose such a clatter, I snapped my head around to see what’s the matter.

A black man with an obviously large cock snapped on his cell phone to look down at his huge pipe entering the ass of a beefy white man wearing what looked like a black jockstrap.

“Yea, man, give me that fucking ass,” he exclaimed in a deep, gravely voice. A masculine man, the kind of downlow fucker you’d see on Sally Jesse Raphel and fucking this quiet white bottom raw. “This is a good fucking ass!”

It was across the room from me with four or five other men between me, so shadows would occasionally obscure what I could see. But the fuck noises were obvious. My little Latino continued to suck but I had my eyes firmly planted on what was going on across the room.

And I wanted that ass next.

The black fucker just got to pummeling that ass. The slapping of thighs to ass got louder and I pulled my cock away, bored by the half-hearted ministrations by the Latino. If he were smart, he’d stand, then bend over and drop his jeans.

He stood and continued to reach for my cock. I zipped up and moved toward the light of the door, but keeping an eye on the fucking.

The grunt and fuck noises just got louder. In the pale light, you could see the bottom now bracing himself against the wall and the top just letting the fucker have it.

“You’re going to get my nut!” the black man practically yelled. And then he did. “ARRRRRHHHHGGGGG!!!”

He let loose what had to be a torrent of cum into that white booty. He fucked it a few more times.

“Fuck man, I gotta sit down,” he said. “I’m fucking weak in the knees from that.”

The cell phone switched off at that moment but he sat down where the light from the doorway showed his cock, a thick nine inches, as the bottom turned around, hefted it up and sucked it clean.

By now, my Latino had moved next to me and was reaching inside my zipper. But I wanted that loaded ass.

Fortunately for me, afterward, the white bottom moved by me to go toward the corner I’d vacated. I reached out and brushed my hand against his ass and followed.

It proved enough to get his attention.

The Latino had kept my cock up if the action hadn’t. The bottom reached around and gave my cock a tug, recognizing another hard cock. He then lined it up with his hole.

I just fucking love cum sluts.

The entry was smooth and easy after that other monster had vacated. And I moaned. As that escaped my lips, a familiar light came on. The black top hadn’t left and now his cell phone illuminated my cock inside this white ass.

It wasn’t going to be a long fuck.

“That’s a nice ass, ain’t it man?” He egged me on.

Truth is, I’ve had better. I don’t mind loose asses. This one was just nondescript. And the bottom had never learned to flex his muscles. I had to do all the work. As I reached up to get a grip, I grabbed what I thought would be his jock.

T’weren’t no jock. It was some cheap, polyester lingerie garter belt. Fuck, I’m so not into men dressing as women. And this guy is totally not the type of guy who would.

But my cock is in an ass, raw, and I’m churning up cum.

“Dude,” the black man spoke. “You fucking push me again, I’m going to knock your goddamned head off! You fucking understand me?”

Troll alert.

“Stand back and let the dude nut in his butt and we all can fucking watch.”

That’s my cue.

I snort some poppers and I let it go. I know I’m not as turned on as I should be but I keep my hands on the fleshy cakes and I try to tune out the trolls, knowing that I’m protected for the time being. I focus on popping and mixing it up in this bottom’s ass. Picking up the pace, slamming harder, giving it to him, punishing him for being a pussy in women’s underwear.

I cascade over the side and grunt a few times as my Latino is there, tickling my balls. Yes, he still wants my dick.

I cum. I half cum really. I shoot a load but it’s not fulfilling. I give the audience a good performance, knowing that I am injecting into his ass but I beef it up making sure it seems good, although more understated than my black ally.

By the time I pop out, another hard dick is lined up and he’s shooting by the time I’ve zipped up and left.

A little disgusted with myself that my powers of perception probably hoped that it was a black jockstrap rather than a black garter belt. I make another loop and I fuck a guy’s face for a while. He won’t offer me his ass, even telling me he watched me fuck that guy and that I can fuck him any other place but here.

And I bump into the black guy as he comments, “That was a mighty fine ass, wasn’t it man?”

“Yea, man,” I nod in agreement, now completely lying to him. “You have a good one.”

I head out. Half satisfied.

A Full-Moon Headache… No CumUnion for Me

A Full-Moon Headache… No CumUnion for Me

As I considered heading the 35 miles downtown last night for CumUnion, the headache medicine just didn’t kick in and couldn’t see myself hanging around for more than the time to find an ass or two.

You see, I work 10-hour days Monday through Wednesday with a 50-mile commute each way. Wednesday is essentially my Friday. I should end the week relieved, but I’m all tense after my asshole boss screams like a fucking banshee at me about bullshit. In his world, the sky isn’t up and water isn’t wet. For some reason, it’s my fault.

My week doesn’t end in relief. It ends in stress with the thought, “I’ve got to find a way to get the fuck out of here.”

Any optimism is sucked from my world as I sit in a windowless office and slog through mindless tasks. What friends I do have in the office would be scolded if they visit me to relieve the monotony. And then there’s the two “straights” who are scared I’ll out them.

It’s a glimpse into the strange world of my life.

My trapezius muscles on either side of my neck and upper back seem to tighten over the week and just create a stress headache I cannot relieve.

After the commute home through terrible traffic, picking up a PowerBall ticket (I lost, of course) and having a quick dinner, I settled in for a little news and just didn’t get to the point that I wanted to get up, shower, groom and head back downtown.

It’s nothing personal guys. Absolutely. I have ambitions on going but I just lost momentum at some point. Even two or three hot guys with whom I chatted bowed out saying the expense of getting into the venue made it less likely for their attendance.

In my mood, I would have made a beeline for the best and first ass, bred and it bolted for home. With a 70-mile round trip and the entry fee, it wouldn’t have been worth my time. I need to fuck a LOT more ass, spend a lot more time and breed at least a few times. Don’t you agree?

Today, I’ve got my cute, bisexual massage therapist lined up to work those traps and see if I can feel a little better for the weekend.

Causes of U.S. Deaths in 2009

What’s Killing People … It’s Not Sex

“It’s good to see a DDF guy on here. There aren’t that many in Atlanta.”

His message popped up on Scruff following a common, “Hello, How are you?”

Of all the things. My profile on Scruff calls myself “healthy, non-smoker” but doesn’t really plunge that much further into the “drug and disease free” issue. As I read the guy’s profile further, he said he was looking for a man who “didn’t think monogamy was a type of wood.”

Funny.

But this fortysomething asshole was alone for a reason. He hadn’t figured out some fundamental truths.

“You, sir, need an attitude adjustment,” I replied.

“Oh,” he replied. “You must be POZ.”

“I have too much to live for than to waste my life with someone who will kill me.”

What the fuck?

“First,” I replied. “I never said what my status happened to be.”

“Second, you need to get the facts about what’s killing Americans.”

I began to cite the statistics included below here. He messaged the word, “nut” before blocking me after the first couple.

Let me tell you some truths:

Causes of U.S. Deaths in 2009

Red Bullet HIV/AIDS: 17,000
Red Bullet Heart Disease: 599,000
Red Bullet Cancer: 468,000
Red Bullet Smoking: 430,000
Red Bullet Gunshots: 298,000
Red Bullet Stroke: 129,000
Red Bullet Alcohol/Drinking: 85,000
Red Bullet Alzheimer’s Disease: 79,000
Red Bullet Diabetes: 71,300
Red Bullet Flu and Pneumonia: 53,700
Red Bullet Drugs: 38,300
Red Bullet Suicide: 34,000
Red Bullet Vehicle Accidents: 33,800
Red Bullet Murder: 15,200

Even though 100 percent of all HIV/AIDS cases are not Gays, you could attribute all 17,000 are to Gay men and assign the 10 percent to the other diseases. It’s not until after gunshots and before stroke that there’s less deaths from HIV/AIDS.

No one has an uproar over processed foods or smoking. Just consider the facts.

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What Does It Feel Like to Be Filled With Cum?

Cum Inside

What Does It Feel Like to Be Filled with Cum?

A Question from a Virgin for Experienced Bareback Bottoms

I was on Kik Opens a new window from this blog earlier today and a virgin bottom from another continent asked me a question that I could answer in theory but I felt it best answered by my readers — especially the thousands of bottoms who read my blog.

His question is a simple one: What does it feel like to be filled with cum?

We’ve created the collective term jizzjoy Opens a new window from this blog to describe the overall sensation for a bottom, from the psychological to the physical. However, I know from breeding the thousands upon thousands who’ve taken my loads, each man’s reaction to getting cum is different.

Some men notice me shooting Opens a new window from this blog (fuck, I decided on “iBLASTinside” as an online name for a reason; I used it on AOL around 15 years ago). I throb like a motherfucker and I tend to shoot a lot and with some force.

Others don’t noticed so much, but they’re just collectors — really looking to get as much cock as possible. It’s not as much about the DNA. If they happen to net some cum, cool. Cock drives them more than anything.

The question is simple: What does it feel like to be filled with cum?

However, I need a detailed description as a response. I need all aspects of what it feels like to you as a bottom. What does it feel like physically to have the cum spurt inside you as the cock swells and shoots the sticky white goo. Then what’s the sensation in your brain, your heart, your gut.

If you want to be anonymous, visit the form on the Contact page Opens a new window from this blog. If you’re a bit more adventurous, send me directly at iblastinside@gmail.com  and include a photo or video of you getting bred. I’ll include it. I’ll only use your e-mail if you say I can. I can’t edit videos but I can blur out faces in photos.

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