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Open Letter: Putting Bottoms on Notice

breeding an ass
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Dear Bottoms:

I think there’s been a little confusion of late. Maybe the tops who you’ve found have been a little too nice, although I’d probably attribute it to the fact they’ve been sucked into the heterocentric sensitivity training of taking care of the wife or some other bullshit. Or maybe there’s too much of the Housewives of Wherever-The-Fuck on TV, showing the women getting all uppity on their men.

That or some queeny, bitch-ass bottom started a movement that they’ve got the hole so they get to be large and in charge.

As I’ve been communicating with a few of your compatriots who want cocks and cum, I’m getting these demands. I’m being told — not requested, but ordered — to provide certain items. These include but are not limited to the following:

  • Face photograph
  • Full body shots
  • Videos of me fucking
  • Recent paperwork showing my HIV and STI/STD status

In most if not all of these cases, the bitch who’s making these demands is not providing any of these to me and, for the most part, gives me some line of bullshit that he’s “assuming all the risk.”

If I could reach through the Internet lines and grab you by the balls, bend you over and rape you lubeless, I would.

Additionally, I am getting a lot of feedback with which the precision a bottom wishes to be fucked. One said that I must only fuck him on his back, I must kiss him and, of course, he wants me to pull out and cum on his face.

In all of the preceding cases, I have declined to fuck them.

While I might entertain an occasional request from a bottom, that ass and body is there for my pleasure. If the bottom gets something out of it, good for you. I rarely give a fuck. But if a bottom seems particularly receptive to my fucking, I’ll be glad to make sure he gets to cum.

Good news is if I’m really enjoying myself, often the bottom will just cum on his own.

Here’s a little reminder of the 11 Commandments for a True Bottom. These were written by a bottom for all bottoms.

If you have a problem with this, please do me the kindness and fuck off.

Otherwise, I look forward to hearing from you.

Mark-Signature-Black

Mark Bentson aka iBLASTinside
Twitter @iBLASTinside
BarebackRT Profile
E-mail iBLASTinside@gmail.com

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We Started at a Glory Hole

gloryhole-glow
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For some reason, Inserection proved to be a little busy that day. I’d been sucked by a few men. None stood out. He’d been running a little late. But eventually showed up and we secured a glory hole across from one another.

He sucked me some then slid his ass onto my hard cock through the hole.

The initial entry can always be different. Has he been fucked prior and opened up? That can be a very smooth, easy entry. If the cock was huge, then we’re talking about hot dog down a hallway smooth. Sometimes I don’t get enough friction to get off.

Then there’s the ones who are tighter than an unfucked preteen before the priest molestation. That can be painful, especially because my cock stands rock-hard and I can allow someone that tight to slide onto it.

With his, he’d messaged I’d be churning up a load already deposited a couple of hours earlier. That said, he’d be tightened up.

But his ass started with that resistance to entrance then began to open enough to allow my head to pop inside. His ass hugged my cock. Tight. And like a velvet wrap of warmth with the cum-soaked interior, I felt him back onto my cock.

After he had enough time to adjust, I began my assault on his ass. But it felt just too good to let myself cum too quickly. And I just wanted to get a little deeper. When he came off me and I felt a tap on my cock.

I pulled out and bent over, thinking he’d invite me to his booth.

“Want to go to the darkroom?”

The darkroom was just that… a darkened room with some sofas around the edge of the room. One couldn’t see very well in the space, just shadows, really. Since Inserection had decided to lock the rooms upstairs and charge for their use, the darkroom gained in popularity.

Unfortunately, some asshole will occasionally come in and turn on their cell phones to get a glimpse of what’s going on. Once, a man even punched someone for it. But I was fucking someone and didn’t bother to pay attention much.

I went in behind him, my pants barely cinched up around my hardon. Interestingly enough, he didn’t go far into the room. Right in the doorway, with the best of all possible views (with the light that filtered in), he dropped his pants and climbed onto the semi-sofa and presented his ass.

I opened my pants and aimed for his hole.

The entry this time was perfect. Just enough resistance for perfection in pleasure.

And I began fucking in earnest. Slowing down some. Speeding up. Pacing myself.

A crowd formed around us. I felt hands on my ass, even around my asshole. But no one dared step behind me, lest it dampen what little light came in.

Occasionally a hand would venture down to check and see whether I was wearing a condom. Of course I wasn’t.

I bent over, he arched up.

“You want my load?” I asked.

“Breed my negative ass,” he responded.

An odd response. This bottom hadn’t bothered to discuss status.

“You want my jizz, no matter what?”

“Give it to me!”

“You got it.”

I stood and began really fucking him, pounding him into that sofa. He started breathing harder.

“Here’s my fucking load,” I growled as I felt my balls tighten up.

As I normally do unless I’m stealthing, I plunged in and completely stopped moving for the initial pulse of my cock.

My cockhead swelled in his tight hole. As it did, he inhaled and gasped. My taint muscles then let loose the first giant pulse and my cum jetted into his guts. He started to practically scream.

I resumed my fucking, feeling my cum mix in the creamy Santorum already mucked up in this bottom’s ass. The crowd surged closer and one old troll lost his load on the floor.

Obviously, the bottom shot all over the sofa thing. He would tell me later he’d never felt anything like it.

“That’s why I’m called, ‘iBLASTinside.’”

Other men pulled at me to fuck them but, for the moment, I was satisfied. I left, headed home before the traffic got too bad.

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The Bareback Side of Chicago: The Beefy Ass Welcome

Chicago
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If you’re reading this day of publishing, I’m still in Chicago and looking for ass. Hit me up on BBRT (iBLASTinside) or via e-mail (iblastinside@gmail.com) and don’t make me beg for your pics. 

Red Star   Red Star   Red Star   Red Star   Red Star

It’s strange I’ve never made it here — at least that I recall. I’m sitting looking out my hotel window, trying to drown out the din of the streets below.

Chicago-AssThis is one fucking loud city. I’m 15 stories up and the noise is still deafening. I could have been on a higher floor, but I got this one because I wanted a king bed.

Fucking is always easier on a king bed rather than two doubles. I always prefer king beds.

Prior to my arrival, I set up my posting as being in Chicago and BarebackRT.com lit up. In fact, I made the front page of BBRT as a most-viewed profile.

It grew impossible for me to keep up with everyone pinging me with OINKs along with other questions. Please fuck me. Breed me.

Shit like that.

It still amazes me the number of people begging to be bred. Too many of these backwash assholes offer crappy profiles with blurry photos from 15 years ago, yet they’re still unflattering.

Me, breed your ass?

Naw, I’m good man.

I even saw one guy send me a pic of cum and shit leaking out of his ass. Not a good combination. Now I’m someone who believes if you’re going to fuck an ass raw, there’s bound to be some shit every once in a while.

But never on purpose.

Somehow, in the midst of all the fucking noise, I did manage the connection with the ass shown in this entry. I texted him when I landed and shortly after checking into my hotel, he arrived. With a kiss, he stripped and went to sucking my cock.

Slut.

Just the kind of bottom I like.

Before long, I was fucking him. I flipped him over and rode him until I shot a huge load into his ass. If he told it accurately, his fourth of the evening.

When I rolled off, he stuck a finger up his ass, pulled it out and tasted it.

“MMMM,” he  said.

He then sucked my cock clean. We had a nice deep kiss and off he went into the night.

Now I’m looking for ass number two. I’m thinking something a little tighter, smaller… not so beefy.

 

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Q&A: Is Jizzjoy Real? YES! Would I Be Less Uptight If I Went Raw? YES!

jizzjoy
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A “conversation” of comments recently broke out on a post Opens new window of a page on this blog that needed a little more oomph, so I’m bringing it over to its own post when Mikey asked the following:

QuestionOn a less serious (or maybe I am serious…) note I wonder what you or Robert (or anyone else for that matter) think about whether I’d feel better and less uptight generally if I went raw. Is jizzjoy real ? And does it maybe have lasting benefits?

AnswerAllow me to address the jizzjoy Open-New-Window-External issue. The answer is a definitive, “Yes.” I think even you answered the question, but I’ll start with other folks and we’ll come back to you in a moment.

A poor straight surgeon lost his job over a scientific study where he found that sperm contained “mood enhancers” when injected into a woman’s vagina. His colleagues — especially the women — got their douched twats in a twist over the whole thing and he went down Opens new window of a page on this blog like a cocksucker in a gay rugby team’s locker room.

I’ve also witnessed jizzjoy more than once, the most compelling being a young hairy beast Opens new window of a page on this blog who quivered and shook at my cum entering his ass.

What I’ve never written about is fucking him a second time, when I didn’t cum as much as the first time. I’d bred someone the night before and, well, if you want extra juice from me, you’ve got a little work to do. We didn’t have time for him to do it. When I shot, his reaction proved to be significantly muted.

I didn’t tell him I shot less. I didn’t indicate I’d fucked another raw ass the night before. I’d showered in between so he couldn’t have guessed.

His body just didn’t shudder like it did the first time when he got several days of built up cum flooding his cunt.

Not even a week ago, I fucked and bred a slut who’s had so many men, he’d rival my totals —although he’d never heard of me. He’s enjoyed the explosive warmth filling his guts numerous times.

As I let my cum go, he described the sensation like a “tree suddenly branching out and exploding into blossoms throughout his body.” He said he could feel it everywhere, from the curls in his toes to the tingling in his fingertips to the tip of his tongue.

a_me_cumI’m illustrating this, in a way, not to brag but to say some people may have more of the therapeutic sperm with the natural mood enhancers than others because when I breed, people seem to walk away feeling better.

Are there a lasting benefits?

When it comes to mood enhancers like Prozac or Zoloft, one must take them daily. Heck, for the full effect on some people, one must take the pharmaceuticals twice a day or extra large doses.

No mood enhancer stays in a patient’s system for an extended period of time.

If you choose to go with sperm therapy, I recommend regular breedings — once or twice a day. Of course, if you receive a massive overdose on the weekends, sometimes you can make it as far as Wednesday, but by Thursday, your mood will dictate a need for more.

Once you go bare, you’ll always be aware when a cock is wrapped in plastic. You’ll get little to no satisfaction with something between you and the man fucking you.

Uptight Condom Nazi Who Wants a Breeding

You wrote this response in our correspondence: “And we both know if he did stealth me I’d scream with pleasure.” Opens new window of a page on this blog

I don’t think I suggested you’re uptight. You did.

And you’ve divulged your true desire.

I don’t know why you haven’t gone ahead and took a load. You should. I don’t know why. Maybe the hesitation could be explained to me.

Further, I think you’ve discovered your true nature as a bareback bottom, but you just deny it. You can’t face it. Why not?

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Travel Diary: Bottoms Blah Blah Blah

Bareback top visiting New Hampshire
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Flakes are universal, along with fakes and catfish Open-New-Window-External. This I know.

But when it comes to superstar flaking out, New Hampshire takes the fucking cake. In fact, my visit to Concord might take the bakery.

Allow me to explain.

I always post future destinations in my travel plans on my BarebackRT.com profile Open-New-Window-External. I notify readers here Open-New-Window-External that I’m visiting. Of course, all this is tweeted Follow on Twitter and ends up on my Facebook Open-New-Window-External.

To enhance it all further, I post on Craigslist an add that looks something like the following:

TOP blogger visiting looking for bottom writing inspiration – m4m (Concord Area)

I’m a blogger who writes about my sexual experiences on the road with bottoms I encounter… My blog is read by thousands every single day, reproduced on several sites and even some entries end up on a famous porn studio’s website.

Perhaps you might like to be the inspiration for a piece when I slide into town next week?

I don’t identify the bottoms I fuck, just write about the experience…

Hit me up with your info — a pic, stats, etc. I’ll respond with my blog details so you can check it out. We’ll go from there.

The site contains a lot of information beyond my fucks. And if you happen to be a top, we can tag team or maybe you’d like to try sitting on my cock… it’s a perfect 7 inches cut.

Thanks!

P.S. The only major requirement (other than bottoming for me) is that you don’t smoke.

From all this, I do get a lot of inquiries. Most of them are lurkers who never intend to meet. This I get. It’s also an opportunity to find new people to read my blog since not all barebackers have found the Bareback Brotherhood or my blog.

With many there’s the “I just fuck safe,” and then more than half switch their story.  But some don’t. Yet, with my blog, it becomes a jerk-off destination for many.

When I do finally arrive, I e-mail the best back to see if they’re still up for that fuck.

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Arriving in Concord

My arrival in Concord allowed me to long in locally to BarebackRT.com, Grindr, Scruff and Manhunt.net, all of which use a geographic tool to notify one who’s closest. I also posted to Craigslist.

Two men of the many interested e-mailed me back saying they were still up for the fuck, but one 4 p.m. pump-and-dump session became a no-show with regrets arriving several hours later because he was “stuck somewhere.”

Flake.

All of my online activity netted me a lot of interest. A lot. I was fresh meat in a town that didn’t see a lot. Of course, I got the usuals…

People just wanting to collect photos, see my cock or face.

I had one prospect on BarebackRT… he was a fucking hot dude in his late twenties… seemed like a good one. But here’s where we begin one issue that baffled me for Concord.

He had no vehicle.

I needed to come to him and pick him up, bring him back to my hotel to fuck and then take him home.

Now please check out the map.

Concord is not a major city. It’s 1½ hours north of Boston. It’s not a walking city. How can you not have a car and survive, especially when you’re not in college?

This turned into a theme of the night. No car. No transportation. My car is in the shop. My car is in the shop due to the storm. I don’t have a car.

By the way, none of these bottoms ever asked where I was staying to see if I happened to be within walking distance.

I don’t guess Northeastern tops teach bottoms they’re the ones who need to make the effort Opens new window of a page on this blog.

While some of them were hot enough for me to go and fetch them, it turns out I didn’t rent the car but a colleague did. I simply wasn’t an option.

Then came the other morons.

I also get a collection of those who want to postpone. These guys appear in every city, without fail. I wonder if they ever fuck. All conversations go something like this.

THEM: “How long you in town?”

ME: Just tonight (no matter how long I’m in town, I always say I’m here “just tonight”)

THEM: “Damn! It’s getting late tonight.”

ME: It’s just 9:30.

THEM: “I know but I have to get up early. I wish you were here…” fill in the blank with “tomorrow night” or “this weekend”

In other words, they can never come over now or today.

Proximity Alert

My first promising opportunity looked like a threesome, which I won’t get into too much detail on. In his early thirties and a scruffy blond, wanted to know if I wanted to fuck both him and another guy, in his early twenties — both online at the same time. As if on cue, the younger one sends me a message.

The younger one asks if I’ve got poppers, which of course I do.

Then he asks if I’ve got anything “more fun.”

WTF.

“Dude,” I respond back. “You’re well aware I’ve come into town. That means I flew. That means I went through security. At an airport. Are you fucking kidding me? Why would I have any drugs?”

He responds, “Oh yea, I guess you’re right. But I still want to fuck.”

Anyway, the vibe is off and the duo then go even more weird. The young one claims the old one is stalking him. The old one claims they’re “together.”

I don’t want to get into the shit. Kick them both to the curb.

Right Downstairs

One last opportunity happens as a guy indicates he’s in a hotel. I ask which one and it turns out he’s in the same one as I am.

Bingo.

He won’t disclose his room, so I give him mine, knowing my colleague isn’t on that floor. He tells me he needs 10 minutes to shower and get cleaned up.

Those 10 minutes pass. Then another 10. Another 10. Yet another 10. And at 45 minutes, I finally message him.

He apologizes, saying it’s taking him longer than he thought to clean out his ass.

Whatever, I say, just get his ass to my room.

Then he says come to his.

I tell him I don’t have his room number.

He says okay, he’s now putting on his clothes.

At an hour after we started this exchange, he says he’s on his way.

Then I get a text asking me if I’ll suck his dick too.

I’m baffled. I just ask, “What?”

Then he writes, “I need to run by the front desk real quick.”

Fuck that.

This fucker is just playing me.

“Forget it.”

He gets all bent out of shape. Says he won’t go by the front desk. Blah blah blah.

After some back and forth, I say he can some to my room, but he has three minutes to get there.

He says he doesn’t like my attitude.

I tell him to fuck off.

The next morning, he begs me to come to his room to fuck him.

I tell him I’m not disturbing  guests actually staying in the hotel.

Postscript

Perhaps the little fucker actually was staying in the hotel or maybe he was one of the guys I’d e-mailed earlier and said I was in town and knew the hotel from that. I’ll never know. I’m proud I never knocked on anyone’s door. That shit pisses me off. He probably kept delaying things to try and get someone else to come over and knock on my door but, like me, couldn’t find anyone to do it.

My luck is your luck, fucker.

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