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Fucking Draven Torres

Fantasy Fulfilled… Fucking Porn Performer Draven Torres

He messaged me.

Shocking, I know. After several years of hoping, wanting, even begging a porn performer or two to let me fuck and breed them, Draven Torres messages me out of the blue.

Now I’m not so presumptuous to think everyone knows me and he didn’t. He had no idea of this online persona. And, mind you, while this incredibly beautiful specimen of manliness does escort, he did not hit me up for cash.

He saw my cock and wanted fucked.

Hey, everyone gets horny.

I went over.

pornFirst, he is better looking in person. Now that’s odd to saw considering just how fucking hot he is in his photographs, but photos fail to relay how a smile can literally light up this guy’s face… or the room. He’s got a hint of deviousness with an underpinning of pure, smoldering masculinity.

Considering that I’m 6-foot-3 and he’s 5-foot-5, there’s a height difference but surely still he filled the room.

When we kissed — yes, I kissed him first — he proved to be incredibly talented there. His full lips knew how and where to move. He moved immediately to a blowjob, although I was already fully erect, with no hesitation to take my cockhead into his throat. Gag reflex? What the fuck was that? Silky and smooth, enough pressure, indeed this man was a pro.

He popped off my cock and asked a magic question: “Do you eat ass?”

“Are you fucking kidding?” I responded. And he presented me with his absolutely perfect mounds with the darker pucker.

I dove in, tasting the sweet perfection of his hole.

He began to groan.

I pushed my tongue deeper as his asshole began to grip at my hole, begging for it to move deeper. I sloppily dove in and made room, slobbering it up with my spit and making him open and ready.

Until I couldn’t wait any more. And I mounted up, positioning my cock at his hole, covering his deeply inked body with mine and beginning to insert my cock.

Draven knew how to work it. Tightening his sphincter and then relaxing, letting a little in. This proceeded until I was buried. He had twisted his head around and kissed me deeply, licking the taste of his ass off my tongue.

Over the course of the next hour, I would fuck his ass in a variety of positions, coming so close. Until we ended up in this position again… me mounting his back and thrusting inside him. This porn god begging for my cum and finally, in this tight hole, me unleashing a torrent of cum.

Draven Torres is one of my top 10 fucks in my life. Not because he was a porn star. That has absolutely nothing to do with it. His skills are well beyond porn performances.

He is a good human being. A great fuck. If you ever happen to catch him in your town, hire him.

Red Star      star_grey      star_green      Blue Star      gold star

Draven Torres on BBRT

Draven Torres on RentMen.com

Draven Torres on Twitter

Draven Torres on Facebook

 

 

 

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Where all the cum is in Atlanta

Get Fucking Sleazy in Atlanta…

When people visit Atlanta — or even those who live here — I’ll get an e-mail asking about getting cum. When can I get it? Where is best tonight? How can I get the most cum in my ass? Where’s the ass?

It’s always difficult to say when and where to give and get it in Atlanta. This town is about as fickle as a dill pickle. However, I did sit down and tried to capture it in a chart (that you can see above). If the place is open, it’s got color. If it’s closed (or closing down), it’s black. If I know it to be full of cum, you’ll see it cum white.

I’ve also created a new page, added to my Sleazy Guide to Atlanta Opens a new window from this blog. The Where to Find Cum When in Atlanta Opens a new window from this blog includes the chart but also offers some advice including a weekend suggestion of how a bottom can get the most loads. Of course, if you’re a bottom coming into town, let me know Opens a new window from this blog and I can help make any additional suggestions and might add to the mix you get.

I’ve also added the known fuck hotels and hook-up clubs to the Sleazy Atlanta Guide.

All in service of the cum freaks out there.

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Key West Postcard

Travel Diary: A Little Latin Spice to Make My Tropical Vacation Memorable

It’s funny how things don’t work out the way one plans.

I arrived in Key West on a Wednesday night. I expected a build up of ass to peak with a crescendo over the weekend and a tapering off until I left the following Wednesday.

Alas, that did not occur.

Not that I was hunting for hole. In a way, I expected it to find me. I had offers, but I decided to be a bit picky rather than accepting just any ass thrown my way. Interestingly, I think the whole relaxing and doing nothing actually calmed down my hormones and made me crave ass less. Plus I got my fill of naked boys and attention at clothing optional destinations including my B&B and the nightclubs I frequented.

After the weekend concluded and Monday inched along, that itch rose a bit and I realized I’d built a hefty load in my balls that needed to find a home — and soon.

Unfortunately, BarebackRT.com Link Opens in a New Window showed little sign of life, with Scruff and Grindr not too far behind and Jack’d so far netted me nothing. I posted on Craigslist using a generic top looking for bottom post and lucked up with a few potentials. I’d been posting on CL for a while — mostly my “top blogger coming to town and looking for bottom inspiration” ads with little luck (except for the hot guy who’d blown me off).

I got a mixture of responses, a few of which were legit among the flakes. One caught my eye and it wasn’t just the fact he was 20 years old Latino visiting the island. He’d offered his phone number early in the exchange and we began texting almost immediately after when he asked, out of the blue: “Are you the top blogger?”

“Blogger?”

“I figured you were,” he answered, without a confirmation. “It’s really cool if you are.”

“What are my chances if I am?” I wrote back.

“I’d say your chances are really good.”

Within a few minutes, we were meeting on Duval Street and headed back to my B&B.

In shorts, flip-flops and a Hollister t-shirt, he looked like the vision of someone from an advertisement. Smooth with very few specks to even call freckles dotting his face, he was perfectly tan and his wavy black hair just cropped perfectly against his scalp. His deep hazel eyes glanced me over as I took his broad hand into mine and we shook. He was warm — not as much in demeanor as in physically, like he’d just crawled out of a tanning bed.

Our chit chat seemed almost about nothing important as we compared our lodging choices. Soon we were walking through the gate and into the courtyard. I gave a little tour of the property and we ended up in my room. With the enthusiasm of his age, he soon removed all his clothes.

His body proved to be one of those not-an-ounce-of-extra-fat-or-flesh perfection. A mixture of tan and olive, his smooth skin was blemished rarely by a freckle. He didn’t contain any extra muscle either, so he didn’t pack on huge pectorals. His legs were almost hairless and he’d shaved his pubes off. His balls, drawn tight up into his cock, looked hairless as well.

I moved in closer but he pushed me away.

“I don’t really kiss,” he said.

I tried not to seem disappointed, but I was. His fat lips seemed too inviting for me not to lick just a little.

“You still suck, don’t you?” I motioned toward my cock.

He didn’t answer, instead moving toward my half hardness and  moving his mouth over its delicate skin.

He needed more practice but not bad. He kept his lips and mouth frozen while the bobbing of his head provided all the friction to bring me up to full mast. Still, I didn’t care. I played with the hair on the top of his head and then pulled him up and moved toward his cock. All the while I let my fingertips dance across his body until my mouth found the tip of his cock.

Yes, I sucked his cock and he inflated to an impressive 8 inches. Much larger than I dared reach. And fuck if he wasn’t thick with a slight bend to the left. The impressive size seemed even more humongous thanks to all the missing hair. Honestly, this boy wasn’t too hairy or had been shaving for a long while as I didn’t sense any prickly around his cock base.

I went for the balls — a little rougher, mind you, but still very smooth. Youth, it seems, can be so very tasty. As I began to lift his legs, he didn’t stop me and I went in search of his hole by taste.

My tongue found a crevice but it didn’t seem right. I pulled back.

What I saw happened to be among the most unique sights ever.

Most people have a ring around the rosie, so to speak. The external sphincter’s fleshtone appears a little darker or lighter, depending on the man. Sometimes it’s a few rings.

Not him. His skin maintained its perfectly olive bronzed tone up until his asshole, which appeared as nothing more than tiny folds like a quarter-inch crucifix. I’d never seen an ass like his. I wondered if he had any sensitivity in his ass.

As I returned my tongue to his ass, I soon discovered my answer.

His thick 8-incher had been hard but very pliable — like a dildo. But as I went to work and the cross-shaped pucker widened, his cock became more rigid — more similar to a vibrator. Soon it grew even thicker and longer. It stood in place, attention as the most dedicated soldier.

As with any 20-year-old, he hadn’t quite learned to share attention, used to the men who lathered upon him kudos on his good-looks and great body. But he took the subtle direction well as I reached for some Spunklube Link Opens in a New Window and began to spread it on his asshole and use my fingertips to tease that holy hole open just a bit more.

I righted myself, proceeding to poke my cockhead against the hole.

“Mind if I sit on it?” he asked.

“Works for me,” I said, rolling off and onto my back.

My cock too was rigid and pointing at my belly button. A string of precum dangled off in anticipation as he maneuvered in front and slowly lowered himself. But he did so without hesitation, with ease and sat down completely to the hilt within moments.

He was a natural bottom.

We’d never discussed condoms and, as he’d read this blog, knew I’d bareback. He seemed at ease with the fucking and enjoyed it, but didn’t vocalize a lot. Truth is, I’m not very loud either.

His chute adhered to my cock so smoothly, it was a fuck never to forget. Like a key sliding into a slot with just enough space for a perfect fit, his ass walls just seemed to fold into every skin fold of my cock. At first, he would move a lot to try to give me pleasure — something I found humorous since the movement seemed almost robotic, just like his sucking. However, thanks to his perfectly pliable ass, it didn’t feel robotic as the skin’s friction would give way just perfectly.

I soon found myself losing control of my own choice of when to cum.

I suggested he relax and let me do the fucking. Interestingly, he’d read my 11 Commandments for a True Bottom Opens a new window from this blog and attempted to adhere to at least some of them, even asking permission to play with his own cock.

“Just don’t cum first,” I said. “I want to be sure I get to cum.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “The fucking isn’t over if I do cum.”

That made me want to test it out by having him cum on my cock then letting me fuck him with his cum, but I dare not risk not being able to load this boy up.

We settled into a leisurely pace and soon I put him on his stomach, staring at his hairless and smooth bubble butt before shoving my cock inside and mounting up for the breeding of his life. I snorted poppers and let myself lose control, asking him only once if he wanted it.

“Yes,” he said. “Give it to me.”

That one positive response was enough that I lost it in that perfect hole and began to flood it. And when I say flood, I mean flood. Since I hadn’t cum in about a week, I let loose a torrent out of my balls that soon lubricated that space between my cock and his ass walls. I pushed it in deeper.

“Just don’t cum inside me,” he said.

Oops, I’m thinking. It’s a little too late.

As I’d mentioned, we’d been fucking very quietly so I hadn’t really done the whole, “I’m cumming,” and grunting thing. I just generally don’t make a show of it. And here I am, pushing my cum deeper inside him and he’s asking me not to cum inside him.

I pretend like I’m having a build up to cum and I pull out and grunt, pretending to cum with my head on his back. As he knows about the truth now, he’s probably thinking “did I or did I not feel the splash of cum on my back?”

The funny thing: As I rolled off of him, he climbed right back into my cock and rode it until he squirted. And let me tell you, he squirted all over. Some went over my head, some landed on my cheek, my chest, etc. He looked away for a moment and I tasted it, just to sample some from the fountain of youth. He’d never know. After all, we weren’t kissing.

We chatted for a bit. Luckily he never put on his shirt until he left. I’d gladly have kept him there all night. But I sure as hell missed the kissing part. He asked if I would write about him and I expressed that I wanted to, knowing that I’d bred him and wondering if he’d really noticed.

He requested I withhold his home state and where he was staying as well as any photos he’d sent me, which I reluctantly agreed in order for you, dear reader, to read this. The rest is basically true, most especially the part about me breeding his ass when he asked me not to do so.

If he’d really been reading my blog, he’d know I always make a deposit. I don’t fuck with condoms and I don’t pull out. No matter how hot, how young or how great your ass is. As a matter of fact, the hotter, younger or better your ass, the more I can guarantee I’m going to breed it.

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Swinging Richards: Is It Rape If She Gives a Blowjob First and Never Says to Stop?

Swinging Richards: Is It Rape If She Gives a Blowjob First and Never Says to Stop?

The Atlanta Gay Strip Club and one of my favorite destinations in town, Swinging Richards Opens a new window from this blog, made the local press lately. A woman patron accused two (or possibly three) dancers there of rape (GA Voice gay paper Link Opens in a New Window, WSB-TV Link Opens in a New Window). The police incident report is available too and I’ve included it Opens a new window from this blog.

The basic story goes like this:

A woman and her male friend has seven shots of some alcohol at that friend’s house before going to Blake’s on the Park, a local Gay bar. Then she recalls being at Swinging Richards, getting a lap dance from one of the dancers and being guided to the VIP area. She had “several things” in her hand including a debit card when “several” strippers guided her to the bar area. There was a discussion of numbers and she handed someone the debit card.

The next thing she recalled is being bent over a table and two or three males having sex with her. She doesn’t recall whether she told them to stop or whether they wore protection. Police interviewed the male friend who was with her. He said he never saw intercourse but he did see her give one of the dancers a blowjob.

She recalled following the sex being in a bathroom and throwing up. She was told she couldn’t stay in there. She doesn’t recall how she got home.

 Following the evening, she was quite disturbed. She took a “morning after” pill and reported it to police, who are investigating.

I know Swinging Richards well.

Is it rape if someone is intoxicated, provides oral sex beforehand and never says, "stop," during the act?

  • No, it's not rape. (56%, 41 Votes)
  • Maybe it's rape, maybe not. I can't be sure. (32%, 23 Votes)
  • Yes, it most definitely is rape. (12%, 9 Votes)

Total Voters: 73

Loading ... Loading ...

Did this happen? Scuttlebutt is an incident did occur, although not quite the way the woman has reported it to the police. Obviously, her status was one of inebriation and memory is quite disjointed. Moreover, her male friend’s recollection of her providing oral service doesn’t help. But if he witnessed such, he had to be in the private dancing room as well since such personal touching would not be allowed out in the main part of the VIP Room.

The report says he was taken to another area, which means another private room, I imagine, so as to not witness the dancers having their way with her — if indeed, this occurred.

It so happens, I stopped by last night and checked a few things out.

The experienced dancers well know where the big money comes from. It is not the female patrons. Women are notoriously bad tippers. For the most part, Swinging Richards prides itself on being a Gay bar and keeps it that way. While one can use a credit or debit card to pay, it’s easier to pay with cash and preferred.

Oh, let me also say that most strippers there claim to be straight. Now, I’d verify probably about half of them as truly straight but the ego boost they get from men and the money is well worth it for them. But the other 50 percent break down into some other groups. A few bisexuals and a couple of Gay men do wander the floor. However, it’s the other 30 percent or so that occupy the middle ground that become a concern.

This gray space of sexuality is where I tend to have the most concern. And perhaps Swinging Richards should as well.

In this space, men tend to struggle with the sensation of attraction to men and compensate with more activities with women. This is apparent not because there’s a perceived threat on his masculinity by rubbing up against a man, but by the sheer fact he actually enjoyed it. That inner conflict becomes ripe for more aggressive attempts at sexual adventures with women.

Believe me, I discuss with with some of the dancers and they get off their shift then “fuck the hell out of some bitch.”

Right.

The good dancers left their spooge somewhere else that night.

The dancers who perpetuated this act — if indeed it went down as it was reported — were plain stupid. Messing with women is never a good idea, especially when they’re intoxicated. And double-teaming just means there’s a witness. Stupid, stupid, stupid. One of you will get a chance to get a lesser charge and turn state’s witness on the other. Either way, you’ll both end up on the sex offenders’ list. Yuck.

The guys have closed ranks and aren’t talking much at the moment, but I know it will come out eventually. I have my guesses, but for now, I’ll keep them to myself.

Here’s my advice for Swinging Richards:

  1. Management already bans women from the VIP area but should extend that to the private rooms. I know that’s money in the pocket, but women can cause this kind of trouble.
  2. Consider a waiver before entering into the room, outlining it’s for “time” and “visual entertainment.” This will protect the club since this woman’s next move is filing a civil suit against the club. Dancer, patron and club must sign it.
  3. Only two people in a room at a time: The dancer and the patron. I’d be honest. The whole chair thing across the doorway sucks. I’d get a timed door lock or something along those lines (not a full door but a three-fourths). I’ve even consider investing in renovating the space in the back so there’s more but smaller rooms and a little more high-end space.
  4. If there’s a doubt that a patron isn’t sober, administer a Breathalyzer. I’ve seen these used at many clubs at exits so patrons can be assured they’re legal to drive. Above a designated amount, you will not allow a patron to purchase a dancer.

I’ve got some more ideas for Swinging Richards, but that’s another post.

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Go Go Go… Well, I Went to BJ Roosters

Go Go Go… Well, I Went to BJ Roosters

Ventured out this week to Atlanta’s go-go boy dancer bar, BJ Roosters. It’s my first time to check the place out. The review is now posted Opens a new window from this blog.

three-and-a-half-stars out of five rating

The bar ended up earning 3½ stars, loosing points for it’s extremely smoky (and not ventilated) interior, the sleazy and not-very-clean interior (especially the bathrooms) and a general poor space planning. On the plus side, the bar lacks the stuck up attitude of the only in-town competition of Swinging Richards, dancers are just as good looking and much more relaxed without the fear of fines and the overbearing thought/action police at the fully nude bar, the dancer diversity is greater for much more selection and it can be a little more fun.

Comparisons between the two places is inevitable. Both places have basically the same dancers, in fact. But BJ Roosters will take in a more diverse selection for people like me who enjoy the more exotic choices.

With the club’s move to a larger space rumored, I’m inclined especially to go back once my lungs recovered, especially since I don’t have to wait as long for my wallet to recover.

Again, don’t miss the review!

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