Tag Archives: Vegas…

Headed Back to the Peach State

Travel Diary: Headed Home

Three nights and four loaded asses later, I’m headed home. Interestingly enough, I’d written the “Lies Men Tell” Parts One, Two and Three a little while back but hadn’t scheduled them to run. In fact, I’d written the first drafts before Las Vegas and my first big Catfish.

Of the four men I bred this trip, two had one of the lies and one had two lies in their pocket.

Still, I bred them for whatever reason. Quick and dirty, pump and dump. Not proud and it fucking pisses me off a little.

All men lie. I lie too to get ass. They lie to get dick. I’m not surprised.

Beyond that, this trip to the San Francisco Bay area was a buffet of boy ass. I had lots of options, just chose the wrong ones. There was a private gloryhole of which I wish I’d taken advantage.

Anyway, Atlanta, here I come again. My next trip will be interesting. If you haven’t checked out my travel schedule on BarebackRT.com, you should. It’s not in the U.S. Here’s a graphical hint.

Travel Diary: My First Scruff Fuck

Travel Diary: My First Scruff Fuck

Despite the promise of these new smart phone applications, neither Scruff nor Grindr net me much ass. Generally, I find them somewhere between mildly entertaining and irritating, as the guys on there generally want photos, photos and more photos. One bottom near me in Georgia can’t seem to recall what I look like despite the fucking full-frontal face pic on the front of my profile.

For some reason, one day in Vegas, my Scruff was simply blowing up. Grindr also worked, although what I got was a cute lady-boy escort (in male drag) hinting he wanted “dinner and conversation.” I declined. The pancake makeup with the petroleum jelly lens effect on his photo was just too much. If I wanted to fuck a girl, I’d fuck a girl. I don’t.

So on Scruff, which seems a less twinkie place, presented a Montana man for me, I got the urge to merge.

He stood on the beefy side of things, which proved fine by me. He was just a couple of hotels over — still a hike in Vegas, but close enough — with wavy brown hair and a goatee, standing tall as me but with wider shoulders.

We shook hands then proceeded to kiss and strip quickly. Right down to business. I imagine the men at home in the mountains were just as quick to fuck.

He laid on the edge of the bed, his head over it and positioned my cock to fuck his face. I was already hard so no problem there. I worked my knob down his throat but he never even made a gagging noise and, after the first few penetrations, his throat opened up like a charm.

After slobbering all over, I pulled completely out and he got the message, flipping over and presenting his ass. I lubed up just enough and entered his slowly, as his ass was very tight. We’d not discussed condoms, safe sex or anything else.

As I rode his ass, he grunted in pleasure. He enjoyed it.

“Damn that feels so good!” he said. “Fuck it as long as you want!”

“I will.”

“Just make sure I get what I came here for,” he said.

“And what’s that?” I asked.

“A big load in my ass,” he said.

Now that made my cock jump too.

“You want my load?” I asked.

“Oh yea!” he said. “Please breed my fucking hole!”

Of course that begging puts me on a path and before long, I was arching my back and plunging my back into his tenderloin mounds, giving him a marination of my massive DNA like no other cowboy from his parts had gotten.

“Oh fuck!”

I added several more thrusts to assure my juices penetrated deep before pulling out. And he headed home to his corral, feeling okay.

Travel Diary: Introducing My Las Vegas ‘Catfish’

Travel Diary: Introducing My Las Vegas ‘Catfish’

It is without a doubt among my biggest thrills to meet (and occasionally seed) those who read my blog. I get “fan” mail often. A lot of people ask inane questions. Others engage me in conversation. With the exception of those who I get to fuck (and with their permission), I’ll write my experiences on these virtual pages.

Then there’s those who lie.

If you’ve ever seen the documentary movie, “Catfish,” Link Opens in a New Window you begin to unravel the kind of delusions some people develop. They build a life of a lie and they double-down on it. They exist within this lie and develop it so much further. It’s a cocoon of lies around them so deep, so interwoven and so swollen with guilt, sex and altered reality, you can’t quite find your way to the truth.

This has happened to me before.

It was a sixty-something woman pretending to be a young gay man — quite convincingly. She was a manager at a major retailer and would take photos of her young, hot, male employees — sometimes not even 18 years old — to lure  in unsuspecting multiple men. As most people tend to do, she neglected to pay attention to the background of images and her store information including awards were plainly visible in these pics she sent.

Eventually, a group of men made sure she stopped and the major retailer was none-too-pleased by the publicity it received.

I would have let it go myself had it not been for the fact one photo I knew was a 17-year-old employee who turned out to be quite straight. But that, my friends, doesn’t get to our Las Vegas Liar.

An Introduction to ‘Mike’

I am generally not a vengeful person. And I expect a certain degree of, shall we say, stretching the truth. Your first name is likely different and you’re probably a little older, a little heavier and the photo you originally sent is a few years in the past when you were on that great diet or taken from an angle that just looked especially good.

But overall, it’s you.

A young man who had been chatting with me for a while lived in Vegas. I’ll speak honestly. We did share some affinity for certain sexual proclivities that I rather enjoy. As with any of my early correspondence, I’d asked for a photo exchange, in which he reluctantly obliged. That always makes me a bit suspicious, so here we already had a problem because he always seemed to be at work and unable to send me photos of himself — even G-rated ones. Yet our conversations would venture into clearly XXX-rated territory.

On occasion, I neglect to tell the poor idiots who use “work phones” and “work computers” without photos that their explicit messaging is just as much a problem for them if the workplace monitors IP traffic. If their nasty text messages or IMs are making it through, so can some photos.

Eventually, photos arrived, in which he claimed to be Person #1 in the images shown here, composed of three photos: Two nude and one just shirtless but showing his face originally.

As the conversation deepened, he then mentioned his boyfriend, who he eventually introduced as Person #2 and pointed to an Adam4Adam.com profile, “VegasNewHotBoi.” He also mentioned that his boyfriend wanted to join in the bareback fun.

I realized the photos were a little off (but not as off as I’ll explain in a moment) but I let it go and we chatted more.

Fast Forward Several Months

Several months later, I got word that I needed to travel to Las Vegas for a week. I saw it as an opportunity to see Mike and use his ass. We began to explore what might become an interesting adventure between the two of us. He would line up men for me to fuck, along with volunteering to get fucked. As he was versatile, we would tag team and it would be quite a round of fucking.

In the course of the conversation, we ended up trading photos again, largely because he wanted to see me. I asked for more of him.

This is where it gets interesting.

When he sent photos of himself to me, this time he sent me photos of Person #2.

As we chatted, his stats changed from his original 5-foot-8, dirty blond at 24 years old to a 30-year-old, 6-foot tall guy.

Fresh, new photos were not to be had. He used a “work phone.” Even as he texted me his exploits of giving blowjobs and getting fucked raw in Excalibur Resort bathrooms (according to him, they’re quite cruisy), he couldn’t seem to point the iPhone at the mirror to snap even a G-rated photo. Again, this excuse of it’s a “work phone.” Yet he could send texts all about the huge cock that just shot a cumload into his raw ass.

Suspicions mounted.

In all this time, this “boyfriend” of months past no longer was mentioned. In fact, it seemed as if he had no such man in his life as he existed to get cum. Every night, he basically told me of his search for cum and how he got it. I played along, also discussing how we might meet up.

Arrival in Sin City

I didn’t find it odd that “Mike” went silent the few days before my arrival. Despite being online (something he would later attribute to his computer going to “sleep,” but something I know also forces his G-Talk status to “not available” or even “off line,” neither of which occurred), Mike never responded to IMs or e-mails until I sent the first one from my hotel room.

“I’m here,” was all it said.

“In Vegas?” he responded. “Where?”

“In my room,” I answered.

“Okay,” he messaged back. “When do you leave?”

Now I found this an odd question. I just got here and he’s asking when I’m leaving? Beside the fact I’d been talking about being in town a whole week and using bottoms for that period of time (he was a blog reader, after all), I usually see the “when do you leave” question from people who postpone sex until it’s too late to have it. In other words, they never had the intention to fuck.

I remained silent to this little turn of events.

“I  got suck flu,” he wrote, finally breaking the silence. “Two days ago. It seems to be going away. Feeling better. I haven’t had the flu like this in years.”

I’d remained stoically silent until finally typing, “Uh huh.”

“Can we meet tomorrow?” he now asked. “Anytime! Off work until Tuesday.”

I’m guessing that the flu was indeed improving. Further, he knew that tomorrow, that Monday, I had a little event planned. I’d advertised on BarebackRT.com for gathering to occur. He’d asked if he could attend via the site and I’d confirmed him.

In the last few hours prior to the party, he disappeared off line. IMs on G-Talk and messages on G-Mail and BBRT went unanswered.

He would be “bummed” at missing the party (which turned out to be great fun with some hot, hot, hot guys). I began asking about responses I’d expected from him and he’d deny ever receiving such messages. Even when I sent screenshots from BBRT showing the messages, he’d send others back showing such messages didn’t exist. As if someone wiped them away completely.

As I tried to nail down a time and place to meet, it became apparent it would not actually occur. Whoever this person happened to be, he would not let me pin him into the snare he’d created for himself. So allow me to share with all of you in Vegas what you’re up against.

Confronting a Catfish

I began by pointing out the confusion of who he really was. His response proved to be denial. He and his boyfriend (who re-emerged in a convenient heartbeat) often pretended to be one another. It just wasn’t a big deal. They did it all the time. Since at the initial time they were both planning on having sex with me, he didn’t think it was all that big of a deal to play a switcharoo.

In his words, “I may have misled you a little. I really didn’t lie. You were going to be able to fuck me. You were going to be able to fuck the guys in the photos. The only question was who really was me.”

Well, that my friends leads us to a more interesting question as to who these photos might be because I do not believe the folks in the face photos match the images that are naked.

CSI: Photo Flesh XXX

Consider the three photos presented as Person #1. Images #1A and #1B were clearly taken of the same person and in sequence. However, we begin to plot the inconsistencies:

  1. The camera device varies between 1A/1B and 1C
  2. Room and background setting varies significantly between 1A/1B and 1C
  3. Clothing represented is significantly different between 1A/1B and 1C.
  4. The man in 1A/1B is much more thin and less muscularly defined that the man in 1C.
  5. The man in 1A/1B is much more tan carries a significantly different skin-tone than the man in 1C.
  6. The man in 1A/1B has much more chest hair naturally occurring than the man in 1C.
  7. As outlined in the blow-up images below image #1A, the nipple shapes vary significantly.
  8. As outlines in the blow-up images below image #1B, the person in 1A/1B has a shoulder tattoo on his left tattoooo. The person in 1C clearly does not.
For all these reasons, I believe that there are two people depicted here. One in photos #1A and #1B; another person in photo #1C.

We have a similar situation in Person #2.

The two color photos provided — image #2A and #2B — clearly show a largely smooth guy, tall and thin, with a delightful bush restricted to just above his cock. While the man in image #2C, presents with rather hairy legs and a bush that extends to the inner thighs.

Clearly, again, we have two people. One in photos #2A and #2B; another person is in photo #2C.

Why Bother?

I bother because I care. Ha. Not really.

I honestly don’t give a shit if the fucker who’s been communicating with me was some old fart sitting at home stroking his cock for the umpteenth time in this little fantasy world. What bothers me is, when confronted with the truth, this delusional bastard tried to stick to the lie. I got excuse after excuse for hair, for inconsistencies and for obvious problems. Seriously, you’re just going to shave the sides of your bush but not the bush itself? 

Whoever is in these photos might be innocent (that’s why the faces are blurred) but someone is guilty. So gentlemen, keep an eye out for the following people:

  • OutInVegas on BarebackRT
  • LVSuckNSwallow@Gmail.com and LVSuckNSwallow on G-Talk
  • OutinVegas@Gmail.com and OutinVegas on G-Talk
  • VegasNewHotBoi@Yahoo.com or VegasNewHotBoi on Yahoo! Messenger
  • VegasNewHotBoi on Adam4Adam

Of course, these are just the ones I know about.

You make your own judgment. I’ve made mine.


P.S. If you run across who’s really in these photos, please let me know. I know there’s an asshole on Manhunt in Boston using my photo.

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Travel Diary: Fuck Fest in Sin City

Travel Diary: Fuck Fest in Sin City

I began my little adventure in Vegas with a fuck fest, inviting several over to my hotel room.

An orgy is something like a soup. You dump a lot of ingredients into a pot, add some heat and hope the flavors meld together.

Asian AssAs with any culinary experiment, some things don’t go perfectly the first time around. But some things do. The Asian and his top friend (I believe more like a boyfriend) who arrived first turned out to be quite a pair. If you find the ass photo appealing, you don’t know the half of it.

I’ve had bossy bottoms before. Generally, they break down into two categories:

  • Prissy.
  • Prissy bitchy.

He was neither. All man. All Asian. All bottom. All smooth. All hot. And he knew what he wanted. Three of us in the room, two of them tops. There were way too many people with clothes and fuck if he was going to put up with that shit.

His humor was captivating. I really enjoy someone who knows that sex can’t be too serious.

The other top, like me, had a geekish appeal. But in this case, he had a much larger cock. A little shorter than me with glasses and a bit socially awkward.

And both these guys had invited others over to join the fun.

I was starting to like them both.

We were admiring the view out of my 24th floor windows. Naked. My cock brushing up against Asian’s ass.

“You’re getting right down to business, aren’t you?” the Top remarked.

“We’re here to fuck,” Asian snapped back.

About that time, a light knock came at the door.

“It’s Room Service!” the Asian said with delight and headed over to answer.

Malaysian CockIn walked a 22-year-old Malaysian. He was thin, small-framed with extraordinarily large nipples and a decent sized cock. He claimed to be versatile in the correspondence we’d had.

He proceeded to disrobe as we moved to the bed. Asian had added lube to my cock and I’d just barely entered inside him when the initial knock came. But now I laid on my back and Asian sat down firmly on my cock.

If I’ve said it once, I will say it again. There’s nothing so wonderful as Asian ass. Smooth on the outside, incredibly tight and warm on the inside. As I glided inside, I reached up and played with his wide, muscular chest and tweaked his dark brown nipples.

Soon the Top friend kneeled behind him and I felt his cock near mine.

It’s one of those sensations I truly enjoy. Two cocks, together, probing the same hole. His pube hairs tickling mine. Oh fuck. It brought me so damn close as we each took turns sliding into the Asian’s ass.

Asian proved to be a talented bottom but not accommodating enough to be double fucked.

Meanwhile, the Malaysian lounged on the bed, stroking. He didn’t engage closely. The Top encouraged him into play at one point, hoping him to fuck the Asian, when suddenly the bottom needed a break.

A knock at the door.

“Room Service!” this time, the chime came from the Top, who answered it.

A slender Black top entered. He began to disrobe as I fucked as I attempted to engage the Malaysian. We kissed. His lips were full and his kisses were indeed amazing. His lithe body squirmed in delight as I stroked his respectable seven inches and brushed against his balls. But when I tapped at his backdoor, he backed away.

“Not my asshole,” he said.

So much for versatility.

I stepped away and re-engaged with the Asian, who by now was hungry for cock again. I’d heard him mumbling with his Top friend about me cumming in his ass.

“No, I’m sure he shot a load in there,” the Asian had said.

So as I entered him, I asked him about it.

He acknowledged he thought he had a load. I told him not yet.

“Haven’t you wondered why I call myself, ‘I blast inside’?” I said.

I pushed him down on the bed, flat onto his stomach, and began to pump him proper. He found the poppers and handed them to me. I took a big snort. Top appeared out of no where. And we both began asking questions.

“Do —you want my load?” I said.

“Yes,” Asian said.

“Tell me you want my load,” I insisted.

“I want you to fuck your cum into my ass,” Asian said.

“Can you feel his raw cock in your ass?” Top asked.

“Oh yea!” Asian said.

“You know he’s going to breed you, right?” Top asked.

“Please!!!” Asian said.

Through all this, I’m pumping and pumping even harder. And soon I am there.

“You’re about to get a really big cumload!” I grunted.

“Oh fuck yea!” Asian said, as he arched his back and thrust his ass up toward my cock.

I went deep and began to throb as I let loose a torrent of cum, coating the insides of his chute and then pumping a little to make sure anyone else — anyone who came along in the future — would know that I had been here and bred this Asian ass.

In this moment, in the silence between seconds, the Asian let out this little sigh.

This boy was made for breeding.

As I recovered, three more men entered. An older white man and his young dark black man. They would stand in a corner and kiss before leaving on their own, ever attempting to integrate with the main group.

The other was a tall, dirty blond versatile with one of those wide, junk-in-the-trunk asses we all know and love. He soon stripped down while the duo went to kissing in a corner.

Now, as I said, an orgy is all about melding of flavors and we had plenty of flavors in the room. At this point, the duo were stuck like glue to one another. I sat between the naked Malaysian and recent Black arrival. And the new tall Dirty Blond was kissing on Top and Asian in a third group. I needed to see some cross-pollination.

I sucked on the Black guy a bit and he sucked on me. I encouraged him toward the center of the room when the duo, who’d barely disrobed, now announced they were leaving.

That prompted Malaysian to start putting on his clothes.

But I successfully got Black man and his nine-incher to the center of the room. While my Asian — already with a nut up his butt — didn’t seem inclined to take him, the Dirty Blond soon was getting fucked and, well, the versatile produced a respectable thick eight-incher that Asian did bend over for in a flash.

The three-way fuck was hot as hell but the duo and Malaysian still left.

Within moments, the Black top let it be known he was close. And soon the grunts were matched and the Black man let loose a gigantic load into Dirty Blond’s ass.

How do I know?

Well, fuck, now I was hard again! I churned that shit up.  His ass was such a cummy mess when I entered it and I fucked it more into him. My Asian bottom, hearing the comments, came around to check it out, popped and boner and displaced me. He rammed his cock inside and within moments, added his spunk to the mix.

The Black man fucked the Dirty Blond some more as I licked one nipple and the Asian the other to try and help the Dirty Blond cum, but it just wasn’t his day. Still, I think we all went home very, very happy.

Or at least, that’s how it seemed to me.

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Goodbye Sin City…

Goodbye Sin City…

As I sign off and bid Sin City a fond farewell, I reflect back. The funny thing reflecting back includes whipping out my cock for a piss at the airport and discovering my little man still cum crusted from the last ass I’d bruised.

God, I love Vegas.

Finding ass this time around proved to be plentiful and easy. I had my pick of the litter every time. One man offered me $300 for my load but I turned him down in favor of fucking a hot Filipino ass, plump and round, and filling his delightful young ass up.

I think my location on the Central Strip with the Monorail made it handy. Two of my tricks used it (of which I know) and I was within walking distance of other major hotels.

Writing about the exploits will be an adventure, to say the least. And I’ve got a few things to say about this city of Sin when it comes to the sins I attempted to commit.


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