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Q&A: The Real Problem Isn’t the Bottom

Q&A: The Real Problem Isn’t the Bottom

A ‘Top’ Asks for Advice

QuestionHey there Mark,

Sorry to bother you, sir.

I’ve been friends with this boy since we were kids and we are both gay. Well I’m gay and he is bi, he says, I think he is just addicted to sex. We fool around and stuff but I want more.

I always take him out to eat because he can’t pay rent. I always buy him clothes for job interviews even though he can’t hold a job. He is too young and dumb, he flunks out at school.

When we go to bars, guys lie to him all the time and he believes them and fights with me even though I feel like I am the only one protecting him.

(When we were 16, a group of forthysomething guys online invited him to a conversion party with him as the “guest of honor. He was going to go until I Googled what “conversion party” meant, then he didn’t go. That’s how dumb he is.)

I am annoyed because I feel like he owes me his pussy. I feel like I have put in the effort and I want what’s mine but he won’t bottom for me sober and he INSISTS on condoms.

Just typing that makes me mad.

I hate condoms, but he knows that and thinks I’m a whore. He gets way more action then me and he always leaves the bar with a different, masculine top (I am surprised they all adhere to his no bareback rule).

I don’t mind sharing his hole at all. In fact, the more the better! I just want in it.

Anyway, you are a true inspiration and I am hoping you have some advice for me, anything helps!

Frustrated Top, Tony in Minnesota

Answer from Mark

ATops are never “owed” ass. Tops take ass.

Nut up. Why are you taking this pussy’s bullshit?

You’re not a top. You’re worse than a pussy-whipped straight guy.

This little fucker is getting it raw. He’s a little demanding, bossy bottom and he gets away with it because no one has the balls to put the fucker in his place.

He needs fucked and bred. But you’re not the man to do it.

It’s time you admitted the truth. You’re a fucking bottom. Oh, I know it hurts a little when the cock slides inside. But you’re all weepy and lovey-dovey over a piece of ass.

And you haven’t owned it.

You do not have the capability or the instinct to be a true, natural top. It’s time you gave it up and started training your ass to take it.

Fuck, if you were paying for all my shit, I’d play dumb, coy and forbid you from fucking me raw. It keeps you chasing after me.

Hate (2 of 3)

Hate (2 of 3)

This post comes with a heavy heart because I write it about someone I considered a friend. In a way, we were loosely business partners, as I supported his products on my website. Business changed in the last couple of years and, growing vocal protests over me, forced my friend into an untenable position.

Or so it’s conveyed to me.

Look, I know there’s a bunch of flakes online and I’m all about exposing catfish Open-New-Window-External. And people lie. You can’t tell liars via e-mail or Twitter. But I have no reason to believe Jeff is telling a fib, as this issue has developed. I sort of feel sorry for the guy.

I’m also sorry Jeff couldn’t find the strength to stand up.

Exif_JPEG_PICTURE

Those of you online, especially on Twitter, will recognize Jeff as Str8Cam. He’s a hot, muscular straight guy who jacks off online to what was once thousands of horny admirers.

Those numbers have dwindled since the rise of Xtube.com, Tumblr.com and other free sources of porn. Jeff needed another source of income and since his gay-for-pay philosophy extended only so far as jerking off, he landed on a potential gold mine in the form of a lubricant that looked like, felt like and smelled like cum.

Jeff began marketing it at Str8Cam Lube.

Now Jeff isn’t the first to come up with such a thing. Bad-Dragon.com Open-New-Window-External, which offers unusually shaped dildos, also offers its own CumLube (even before Jeff). I’d ordered from them. But Jeff — being directly supportive of a the gay community despite his own disappointing heterosexuality — caused me to switch it up.

Being that I’m a barebacker (and many of my readers are fans of the raw sex and like some spunk), Jeff created a fan base for his product, which he started a second line called SpunkLube to attract a straighter audience.

In the course of my writings, I explain how Jeff’s product might be used as a tool in deceptive practices. By the way, I’ve also discussed the use of many other brand name products including Durex Rainbow Colored CondomsDurex Rainbow Condoms, Vaseline, etc., in similar methods.

Jeff didn’t know I included him. Neither did Bad Dragon nor Durex.

When Jeff started getting harassed, it was brought to his attention. He e-mailed me and I added a statement to the “offending” page Opens new window of a page on this blog.

Threats continued against Jeff and his products. Even though his products are condom safe (and plenty of lube makers create condom-unfriendly lubricants), Jeff is being punished for something I’ve written.

Jeff has asked me to take my posts down. He’s asked me to remove reference to his products. I won’t.

What I am doing is explaining to you all, dear readers, how someone has been unfairly maligned for something that they have no right to be.

Jeff-Str8CamJeff is a public figure and he gets naked and jerks off on camera practically daily. And while I may be suggesting his product be misused, it’s no different than someone not following the recipe on the back of a Duncan Hines cake box or playing Monopoly with my own set of rules.

Why people have chosen to single-out Jeff, I have no idea. It makes me wonder if there’s some retribution because Jeff, in his non-judgmental approach to all gays — even barebackers. He chats with us all on Twitter.

While I don’t make a dime from this, allow me to suggest you all still support Jeff. But please, do not purchase Str8Cam Lube Open-New-Window-External or SpunkLube Open-New-Window-External from a store. Purchase it directly from Jeff’s websites. And if you’re really feeling generous, join his jerk-off website at Str8Cam.com Open-New-Window-External.

If it upsets you a little too much, consider purchasing Bad Dragon’s CumLube Open-New-Window-External instead. It’s practically the same thing.

And if you’re one of the bullies fucking around with this muscleman’s wallet, fucking stop it.

Postscript

Show Jeff some love. Follow him on Twitter and tell him you support him, his products and his right to sell to whomever he pleases. And if you’re a barebacker, let him know that too. His Twitter name is @Str8Cam Follow on Twitter.

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Ramses or TheBestHands or TheBestHandsGa

TheBestHands Works Out the Knots

Ramses

Available on MasseurFinder.com as TheBestHandsGa Open-New-Window-External and TheBestHands Open-New-Window-External
Email Ramses at MassagesByRamses@gmail.com mail
Also advertises on Craigslist.org in Therapeutic Services Open-New-Window-External

ramses-chest Highlights

bullet 32 year old, Latino, smooth, toned, 5-foot 8-inch, black hair, light goatee, non-smoker
bullet Massages in his briefs
bullet Deep tissue & Swedish combination with hot stones, cranial sacral & trigger point elements
bullet Massages on a table in a clean, serene space dedicated to massage
bullet 60 minutes for $80 or 90 minutes for $120 (in call) every day but Sunday
bullet Located in northwestern Atlanta/Buckhead between I-85 and Highway 400 near Lenox inside a gated apartment community
bullet Ramses has roommates but good privacy
bullet Happy endings as a hand-job

four-out-of-five-stars rating

Sometimes it’s about the massage.

In the past, I’ve just been lucky in my distant past to have massage therapists who give great massage and happy endings Opens new window of a page on this blog, but it’s been a while since that happened. Since then, I’ve been on a search for the perfect combination.

I’ll admit. For a while, I settled on a straight therapist who gave great massage but never touched my dick. My happy ending happened to be when he cradled my head in his broad hands and did something with his finger tips to seemingly cause tingles down my spine then he’d balance my Chakras. Now I’m not much of one for such bullshit, but I’ll admit I actually felt something and I felt better.

ramses-IIWhen I saw Ramses ad, I felt a little tingle too, but not in the same places as the straight guy.

I always like the exotics, that’s no secret. Ramses didn’t seem stuck-up, like a lot of the other guys. His rates were reasonable and he answered all my questions, assuring he was indeed trained in massage.

His massage space was well-lit and warm with one of those running water meditation things. Ramses was shy, or so it seemed. He didn’t try to engage in conversation at all other than asking me if I had any issues.

He stripped down to briefs. But his large nipples and naturally smooth, taught body proved to be a joy to watch (at least when I was face up).

The room was warm, linens clean and smelled fresh without some overpowering scent.

His hands weren’t large but I’ve got to tell you, those fingers found their way into some deep knots. His deep tissue techniques were truly deep to the point of getting a little painful. But when he really reached into some painful moments with his fingers and elbow, he would let his other hand venture to my butt cheeks and down toward my taint.

Pain and pleasure.

That mixture truly worked and reminded me to take deep breaths through it.

As our time progressed, he progressively got more sensual. Unfortunately, my hand would brush against him as well and I could sense this was something he did not like (which I later confirmed). Although he would tolerate mutual touch, his preference was to work on his client.

No problem, of course except that he had one of those bodies one might want to touch.

He did venture into my crack but his fingers barely touched my bunghole, even as I’d told him that I showered prior to my arrival. This seems to be a trend among most massage therapists. Unless he advertises prostate massage, he’ll stay away from the asshole. I don’t get why just touching it is so verboten.

When I flipped over, Ramses provided some terrific cranial sacral therapy beginning with just a touch of aromatherapy to open up my sinuses (which can get clogged when you’re face-down for an hour). He also integrated a little trigger point into this and I found that I started to relax nicely.

He worked on my arms and legs more before heading toward my cock to get intensely sensual. I did ask him to take off his shorts at this point. He hesitated but obliged so I got a wonderful view of his ass. He clenched his ass so my fingertips never accidentally ventured too deep. His uncut cock never really inflated any, showing me just how uninterested he happened to be in me and why he seemed to pull away.

Nothing close to oral ever happened and despite my assurance that my nipples provided absolutely no stimulation, his non-jacking hand seemed to work on my upper body. I’d informed Ramses that my erotic spots were all around my nutsack but maybe the language barrier prevented him from getting my concept.

Nonetheless, after 90 minutes of relaxation, touching and attention by a man with a gorgeous body and his expert manipulation of my cock, I found myself on the edge without any poppers.

When I cum, I begin shooting copious amounts early before I actually experience the orgasm. My cockhead swells and a lot of white spunk begins to spill out. He suddenly wants to stop. I encourage him on. He barely jerks me though it before he’s out the door, headed to bathroom to clean his hands.

Um…. you can’t get anything from jerking a guy off.

The boy was afraid of cum.

Forget about fucking him (or him fucking you, although he’s definitely a bottom).

And I was a little disappointed by the ending. But as I considered the whole experience, I realized just how competent Ramses happened to be. Impressively so. His massage truly provides “relief” from life’s stresses. His handjob work got me off sans poppers and I enjoyed it. If he relaxed a little and didn’t fear the sperm, it would be perfect.

Who am I kidding? It would be perfect if he sat on my cock.

ramses-ad

3… 2… 1… BLAST-OFF! The Countdown to iBLASTinside’s Birthday    (1 of 3)

3… 2… 1… BLAST-OFF! The Countdown to iBLASTinside’s Birthday (1 of 3)

Forty-Five Random List…

…for Mark Bentson’s Forty-Fifth Year (Part 1 of 3)

To mark this moderately important milestone in my lifetime — halfway to 90, which means I’m most certainly over the hill and speeding toward a furnace to turn me into ashes that will then be scattered here, there and everywhere to celebrate the clandestine debauchery of my life. But let’s focus on the here and now, the hedonism of the moment. Here begins part one of three of my Forty-Five Random List.

45. Fuck a porn star

I can’t begin a list without the wish that continues on despite repeated tries. I want to fuck a porn star. Please. This past year has seen promising moments with opportunities that has come close including promises from two, rather significant big-name porn stars.

One with whom volunteered to take my load but fell in love and moved off to be with his new boyfriend. The other I bribed and he took the gifts and ran off to be with his new boyfriend with whom he’d just fallen in love.

Now  that I’m traveling to Northern California and the San Francisco Bay area, I’d hoped that perhaps I might just luck up on an actor or two. Nonesuch. So my desire goes on.

44. Get Medallion status on Delta

Okay, what an odd goal, but I’ve been flying so much and I’m stuck in steerage with everyone else. And so far, I have yet to sit by anyone hot or even a decent looking straight guy. Every plane ride seems to be another female, another old sixtysomething retiree with his golden-age wife, a mother with her four-year-old or a school mar’m. Why can’t I get one hottie?

I doubt Medallion status will help much with that, but it will at least help assure I get a little more legroom and a possible upgrade or two. Long-time readers will know I’ve been hoping for this for a while. I will achieve it (for sure) this year. But if anyone has the inside track on helping me get upgrades, show me some love!

43. More fucking on travel

As simple as that. I attempted something in Las Vegas that didn’t work: I solicited someone to be my regular cum dump. And while I had no trouble finding ass to fuck, sometimes the pursuit of ass gets boring. Good thing Vegas brought a stock of tourists and locals worth breeding (and even enough with whom to have an orgy).

Yet, still, I crave an easy come-over-bend-over-and-be-bred kind of guy. I’ve got a couple of men who I can contact if I’m ever in a lurch or a dry spell while at home. I’d like that on the road.

42. & 41.  Yoga & Weight Loss

I am not someone to goes to the local Y and signs up for a class. I don’t hit any old gym. Teaching me anything physical requires a special talent and I seek out people. Like my trainer late last year (as seen pictured here). I expect people helping me to be in shape themselves (yes, I’ve seen trainers who need a bit of help).

My former trainer was great, if not tragically straight. And despite some of my own misgivings, I signed up with him. But I have a few things that just do not work for me. First, he must keep me motivated. He did so, to a certain extent. But he never really followed through on additional promises to keep on me outside the gym (for which I paid him extra, I might add).

Second, he’s got to be the example I look up to every day. And when he started posting unhealthy things to his Facebook, I had to take a step back some. He stopped motivating me. It all came crashing down.

And my weight came up after losing so much.

But here’s what I learned about myself. The nutritional diet he put me on required a lot of psychological fortitude, which I somehow managed. And while my body didn’t always obey, it did provide some form of willingness to begin getting in shape. Shape which I have not lost completely.

And so, with both those, I want to step more into a yoga situation. But I want someone to work with me individually to set me on the right course for success. I’ve become convinced of the mind-body connection…

40. Stop chewing my nails

I know. Bad habit. I’d just about stopped it but some bumpy flights of late got me started again. I guess a nervous habit. Or I’m just nervous.

39. Upgrade my iPad

Have you seen the Retina display on the new one? (Although it’s not called an iPad 3, that’s basically what it is.) It makes my iPad, bought the first day of the original launch look like a low-resolution, piece of crap.

38. Massage me everywhere

When I lived in Washington, D.C., I had the hottest Filipino with the best muscle body who would come over once or twice a week and work out the kinks. Then in Georgia, I found a spa that had a lovely little Asian boy who helped me out too. Those two both gave great massages and both provided happy endings.

Love a good massage with a good happy endings.

Then I ended up with a great massage therapist but he was a straight Latino. Although very cool with the whole Gay thing, he wouldn’t bother to touch my cock and, no matter how much money was promised and how much goading. Nonetheless, I kept going to him and enjoying the massage part. It was therapeutic.

But he’s moved out of the area and now I’m without a decent massage therapist.

I’ve been looking and trying out a few people. Not a lot of luck so far. I’ve had decent results but nothing remarkable.

Moreover, when I visit other cities, am finding it very difficult to get therapists there to respond and be accommodating.

If you’re a therapist in the San Francisco Bay or Atlanta area (and you’re good), please let me know. Happy endings appreciated but not required. However, I do prefer good-looking non-smokers.

37. Better shoes

I need some. Hard to find. Right now I’m still in two-year-old Old Navy top-siders and six-year-old Rockport sandals.

36. “Read” more for work

Notice I put “read” in quotation marks, as my long commute to work allows me a lot of time to listen to books. Unfortunately, since getting my new car, I’ve been listening to Sirius XM more than anything (my favorite channel is Raw Dog comedy, Channel 99; coincidental it’s got “raw” in the title, huh?). I should be listening to more books.

35. Speaking of Sirius XM, please stop Derek & Romaine

They’re on OutQ, the Gay channel. They attempt to dispense advice to the masses about sex and gay life but neither of whom is qualified in any way, shape or form. Derek is just a prude. And he’s an asshole prude. Sometimes he’s so rude to people I’m amazed anyone bothers to listen to him. Both of them wouldn’t bother to even entertain the concept that barebacking is truly an option. I’ve even heard Romaine have a fit about men with hairy asses being horrible.

Additionally, they barely plan a show and talk about their personal lives as if anyone really gives a shit.

Please, they’ve been on the air too long. Get that shit off the air.

34. Going strong on no jacking off

Every load I’ve shot in 2012 has gone in someone. It’s gone in an ass or a mouth (and it’s rare for it to be a mouth).

33. It’s been 420 for me, finally

In my list of 43 Arbitrary Things when I turned 43, number 21 mentions I’ve never tried the infamous 420. Pot. Mary Jane. Wacky tabacky. Weed. And because of my opposition to smoking, I’ve never smoked pot. I still have never smoked pot. With research and some experimentation (hint to the right), I finally got to discover what the big deal was all about.

It wasn’t a big deal.

Made me even more convinced that (sorry for a little politics) that the stuff should be legalized.

32. More rollercoasters and amusement parks

It’s already been a good year for it. I want to make it a great year.

31. Did you read this?

Why haven’t my readers been commenting? I’m still getting almost 1,200 visitors a day but lately, you fuckers have been quiet. Speak up!

Don’t miss the next part… 30 to 16…. tomorrow.

Travel Diary: Bi or Straight?

Travel Diary: Bi or Straight?

I meet up with the man from We Hold These Truths to Be Evident.

◊   ◊   ◊

Running late, I rounded the corner to see him down the hall from my room. As I pushed the key card into my door, he bounded up and walked in behind me.

“Sorry,” I sheepishly apologized for being tardy.

“It’s okay.”

We stood staring at each other in the garish florescent light. The last time we’d seen each other, we’d not been able to see all that much other than darkened forms. Now I couldn’t hide my imperfections, my 43-year-old skin, my slight but noticeable graying sprigs spiking through my sprouting beard. Did he think I had a spare tire? A bicycle tire? Maybe a motorcycle?

I looked into his eyes. For all his thickly matted brown hair, his eyes stared at me in a starkly contrast blue. I’ve heard of steel blue, sky blue, crystal blue. But none of these adequately described his eye color. While the irises struck me as so sapphire that no description ever really said enough about blue.

Then it struck me the blue I saw. Not a cold one of steel or ice crystals. I saw hot blue, like the natural gas flame on those stupid television commercials with people snapping their fingers and dancing around. His eyes danced on fire.

Then it happened.

His kiss seemed tentative. His lips didn’t part and his eyes remained wide open, even wider if they could be. But he closed the distance, touched me and we kissed. And in that moment, I knew the gray hairs and extra pounds and decade beyond him didn’t matter as much as our touch.

Seems almost romantic now, knowing now that in about 10 minutes hence, we would be animals, grinding with my cock deep in his ass, the rawness of our skin touching each other, my fingernails scraping his back as I felt the fevered goosebumps rise.

After two months of correspondence and the confessions of his desires after our last encounter, I now had this man in my grasp, if only for the time until his girlfriend returned and he fled from my hotel room back into her feeble arms. But for now, his mouth parted for the first moment and I finally tasted his tongue with mine. A sigh escaped my lips.

Fuck.Bi or straight guy?

I pulled him away from the unforgiving light and into the shadows near the bed. Even there, his blue-flame eyes denied the darkness, looking at me with a mixture of lust and allure. We kissed again, pressing in tighter, urging him to crank open that jaw and let me sample the delights of his spit. He did.

An eternity. A moment. We parted. “Wow.” He smiled. I removed my shoes. He took off his shirt. We were both hard, the bulges in our pants so obvious. I took off my shirt. He took off his shoes. Then I undid his belt and pushed his shorts and underwear down. He did the same to me. Socks went flying and finally, we fell onto the bed, smiling, kissing and touching one another into a frenzy of nudity.

This stranger I’d fucked and bred once who held some bizarre attention for me. I had a name for him, but was it his really? Even in the naked tangle of kisses, sucking, licking and pleasures, my mind raced about just how long I’d have to indulge myself before he’d suddenly race away to his other life where no one knew that my DNA made up a part of this man.

We each take moments pleasuring one another. Yes, indeed, indulging him in just laying back and letting my mouth lick, my teeth nibble, my fingertips brush, my hands grip. I sucked on his thick cock. As a top, he would satisfy both guys and girls. The girth would seem massive and challenging even for the most adept bottom. And most girls would squeal in delight since his length stood remarkable rigid but not obscenely long. Even I, the top, felt my own asshole twitch as this man’s magic continued to bypass my defenses and reach into the weaker spaces of my psyche.

Inside my mouth, his cock seemed to find the ability to get harder, but still against my tongue the taste of his heart beat pulsed. Just a touch of his precum would leak and his sweet and salty essence hinted at so much more to come later.

Lower to his balls, lower still to his taint and finally to that beautiful hole. Turning him over, his cheeks spread, I now devoured the meal before me. Opening him up, my tongue just inside, feeling it tighten on the tip of my tongue. I licked on. Working it and opening it up. The complexity and subtle flavors delighted my palate. Injecting as much into his hole, he began to loosen and open up to the attention.

In another tangle of kisses and naked limbs, he maneuvered on top of me, lubed up my cock and began to sit on it. He didn’t flinch or pull out. He impaled himself steadily with no appearance of pain, no grunt of satisfaction, no sound of discomfort, no hint of enjoyment. But as his ass cheeks settled on my thighs and his sugar walls began to flex with my cock inside, this slow appearance of contentment began to flood his face. No, not contentment. Completeness.

In a moment, both our more basic needs — the desires we had expressed in e-mails to one another — would come flooding forth in passionate, rapid fucking that would be hot, frenzied and overwhelming. Neither of us would find it particularly perfect since our tempos were more steady and quiet. How unusual for me to find a matching bottom, not insistent on some porn-induced code of ass-slappy dirty talk or strange grunts to assure the dumb bottom that indeed, the cock in his ass was that of a man.

Our silent connection worked and, like a perfectly tuned V8, fired on so many levels.

We fucked in many positions. On his back, on his side, on his stomach. Each allowed me to feel my cock snaking into his practically virgin hole that he claimed so few had violated prior to my arrival. I somehow felt a little evil knowing how many men I’d entered raw before him. Him virginal compared to my experience, yet we meshed in this moment.

Soon he rode me again and started begging for my load. “Please explode in my ass!”

“You can’t have it,” I teased back.

“Why not?” his smile cocked to the side, his eyes flared as he clenched my cock tighter.

“You just can’t have it,” I winked.

“What do I need to get your load?”

“What do I need to get you?”

I said it before I knew it. The words shocked even me, my mouth agape as I realized what I’d just said.

He looked at me, a tenderness coated his face.

“Always maintaining control,” he said. “I’ve read your blog.”

I never told him about the blog.

What followed was a conversation that stopped our sex but stripped us both of the pretensions between us. I learned about his girlfriend and how unlikely it would be that I would ever take her place, although the unrealistic thoughts really hadn’t crossed my mind. This veil of mysteries between us finally folded and we began to see each other as true humans, although I still wanted to use his ass and he still wanted my cum. Our conversation remains private, the true moments of intimacy between two men.

I will say, though, I’d never known anyone to read their own encounter with me on my blog and jerk off to it. And cum. Hot.

After a while, we kissed more and the blood coursed back into our cocks and I proceeded to fuck him passionately with good measure, building to the moment we’d both waited and wanted until I released my seed into his ass. My load came a quick torrent, a short burst, but then released in small spurts over the next few minutes as he jerked: “I can still feel your cock releasing your cum in my ass.”

He shot his load across his perfect chest, this milky perfection that I couldn’t resist. My tongue scraped across it and I tasted him, truly him. I looked at him, his eyes still on fire. Staring still, I went in for another sample. Then I felt his hand on the back of my head and he pulled me in for a kiss.