Tag Archives: scene

What Is Rape?

What Is Rape?

I get a fucking lot of accusations in my inbox. Often. Here’s one of the more interesting:

When I was 18, a top I met off phone chat had me come to his place. When I arrived, he was much older than described…

I get inside he immediately grabs my head and slams it against door then rapes me raw. He degraded me racially, calling me nasty Asian slurs.

After he was done, he hid my cell phone and keys and kept me for 15 days.

I was used as sex slave to pay for his meth addiction and infected. A black man felt bad and freed me — the only one out of 65 RAPISTS.

I went to police and he was arrested. But [during my captivity], he sent texts to his cell from mine saying everything was consensual AND IT WASN’T.

He now walks free and I hate him and, because of [the AIDS] virus, I no longer date.

I hate you, Mark, and all other violent predators.

For some of you perverts out there (and you know I love you all), you’re jerking off just thinking about this scenario. But let’s get to this Asian gentleman’s message to me and splice it apart, step by step.

Rape Is Bad

I do not believe this story. Here’s why I don’t:

If this 18-year-old gentleman disappeared for 15 days, his family, friends or others would have noticed. Sure, this violent man might have created some text messages back and forth, but those messages would have occurred after the disappearance. Any cell phone records could show that.

Further, in many states, to knowingly pass along HIV is criminal. HIV maintains a portion of the DNA from the source. A test could determine whether the victim was indeed infected by the older man.

I believe the consent likely came from this young man before the disappearance. He told some friends and family he would be gone a while — probably not 15 days — and after a while, came not to like the scene he’d fantasized about because the reality wasn’t quite and fun as the jerk off images.

I’ve seen that often and any of you with any level of kinks would agree.

Nonetheless, if I suspend my disbelief, let me just say if this is true, this is bad.

Let me also suggest to the writer that — unlike my website, which is about sex — that the guy who kidnapped you and held you captive, did that violent act to you. It wasn’t the sex, but the power play that you didn’t like (and the fact he was older than he initially said).

Safety in Hook-Ups

The dear letter writer made a gigantic boo-boo, for which he fails to take accountability. And I get so fucking tired of hearing this shit from people who read some of my posts.

Every time someone goes to a stranger’s home or hotel room or wherever to fuck, you’re taking a risk. Didn’t mamma teach you not to talk to strangers, much less fuck them (or let them fuck you)?

Gay men … damn, all men … love casual sex. We let our cocks put us into places we shouldn’t be. I’ve been there. And this guy ended up some place he shouldn’t have been.

Do not blame anyone else for that.

I’m not saying he dressed slutty so he should have been raped or anything like that. He didn’t deserve to be held hostage for 15 days — if indeed, that’s what happened.

But he’s not innocent.

He want to blame the car for hitting him head on when he was already driving on the wrong side of the road. He did something dangerous.

Fucker beware

I No Longer Date

Oh. My. God. Being Poz prevents this little fucker from dating.

All of you Poz guys out there need to stop dating, stop fucking and curl up into a ball and just shit yourselves.

Another reason not to believe this story: The idea that life ends with seroconversion. Hell, for some, becoming Poz means life begins. No longer worried about when HIV might arrive, but knowing that it’s now there with you.

(As an aside, I’m impressed the dude also counted all 65 guys who fucked him.)

If indeed this is true, let me speak to you, my Asian letter writer:

You need to speak with a professional and go into counseling for this trauma.

You need to find a way to move on, date and find a way to heal. The amount of pent up hate you’ve gathered up into yourself is preventing you from seeing that life continues. You survived something terrible but not everyone is out to hurt you.

Jumping Off the Hate Cliff

Now he says I am out to hurt him. I’m some sort of predator.

I’m not. Never have been.

If you’re upset about the stealthing thing, I’ve explained it time and time again and don’t really need to do it again.

If you’re upset that I use bottoms, all tops do whether they admit it or not.

I just think you’re upset. And once the proper counseling is in place, you’ll be better off.

I didn’t fuck you. I didn’t abduct you. I didn’t hold you hostage. Don’t hate me.

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Friday Fuck Fun: Cheap Thrills Gets Your Rocks Off with UK’s Cum Pigs

Friday Fuck Fun: Cheap Thrills Gets Your Rocks Off with UK’s Cum Pigs

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Coming to you direct from the UK, Paul Morris & Treasure Island Media present the fourth fuckvid in the CHEAP THRILLS series, featuring a solid mix of London’s best fuck-pigs, in four cum-drenched scenes, this video is a guaranteed cheap ass way to get your rocks off again and again.

In CHEAP THRILLS 4, watch as notorious European ass destroyer, PETO COAST, exploits LEOMANN’s begging hole, FLORIAN MANN fancies an anonymous deep breeding from a furry, uncut fucker, ANTON DICKSON discretely breeds a sleeping flatmate’s insatiable ass, and TITCH JONES plows JAKE ASCOTT until they lay spent, filled with and covered in molten man juice.

 

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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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