Monday, February 19, 2018

Ben 5: Introduction to Friends


One of my friends was telling me how his fuck bud of choice at the moment just arranged a platonic introduction of him to his friends, which caused a raised eyebrow.  To me, it’s just an extension of the casual nature of the friendship.  It’s a harmless invite to cultivate the “bud” part of fuck bud.   Of course, it would be more harmless and trivial when you’re introducing your fuck bud to @spreadnaround1 of twitter fame, as was the case when I invited Ben to tag along with me to meet at a cumdump gang bang of a kid with daddy issues.

Me introducing Ben to @spreadnaround1 wasn’t totally whimsical in nature.  It was rather calculated, knowing what I know about them.  Both great guys in and out of bed.  Similar in attitude.  Both devious, subversive sex pigs masked by the conventions of civility.  You should hear the filth that comes out of their mouths as they exchange raw lust and then minutes later after those needs are satiated, a discussion about management principles and our allegiance to either the american or national leagues in baseball.  And there’s also the fact that Ben’s ass is fucking perfect and I knew @spreadnaround1 would want to plant his meat in that.

So there I am, fucking the cum dump’s well used hole.  He’s already got one load in him from a guy that’s starting to dress and bail.  Ben’s already artfully opened up his ass.  (I really don’t know how Ben does it.  He’s hard as a rock and can stay that way for hours without getting close to cumming.)  @spreadnaround1 also has had a turn.  The kid is on all fours and I have his throat in the crook of my arm with a sleeper hold as my cock is marinating in the warm, slick load that is coating his ass.  I pound the kid as he struggles.  Long, deliberate strokes punctuated by the sharp sound of flesh slapping on flesh.  And as I whisper into the cumdump’s ear how I’m going to wreck his hole so that he feels me for days to come, my eyes dart around to seek out my buds.

I see them, surreptitiously on the corner of the bed.  Ben leaning over with @spreadnaround1 grinning at me.  He’s silently telling me how hot Ben’s ass is while Ben sheepishly meets my eyes, feeling a little guilty for stealing a moment in what was supposed to be a focused cum dump gang bang.  There's that unspoken rule that you're supposed to focus on the one bottom in these types of scenes.  But yeah, I knew introducing Ben and @spreadnaround1 was the right choice.  They’re going to get along just fine.  

I tightened my sleeper hold on the kid.  “Don’t worry guys, I got this one preoccupied,” I wanted to say to them. And at the end of the day, the cum dump got each of our loads and he was weak-kneed and wobbly getting off the bed.  Yup.  Everyone is just fine and it worked out the way I thought it would.

Friday, January 26, 2018

Ben 4: Small World (of Hookups)

On the one hand, I'm terrible with names. On the other hand, I'm great at them. I can forget a name seconds after being introduced yet sometimes, if I see a name in print, I can recollect it years after even though we've only met in person briefly once.

So Ben and I were having our post-coital chit chat and got to talking about his partner. He gives me his partner's BBRT screen name so I look him up (and by the way, I've already forgotten what that screen name is). And since I'm too cheap to get the paid membership, all I get is a small thumbnail that doesn't immediately register anything. But then, in a microsecond that is going to take a lot longer to explain, I put some pieces together. His partner and I have already played together. 6 years ago. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've written about him though I can't find the entry. And I also remember writing about him in the comments of a fellow blogger's site, which is now defunct.

How I put it together: I know Ben. I get the small thumbnail of Ben's husband. The two together trigger a memory of just a few months ago where I was at a pride parade and there was this hot couple behind me that I'd love to play with. Both had fine bubble butts. Ben talked about having a lot of ass between the both of them. Ben used to live in a sleepy part of town that I used to live in. Ben told me his partner's name and digging back it jives with the screen name or something I saw in print of a hookup I had years ago in the same part of town. Back in the day when Craigslist and adam4adam were my go to for meeting guys.

So I ask. The same night. Over text right after I got back from our little tryst. I give Ben details of the guy's place (the place was seriously decked out for Halloween... epic) and ask if it's the same guy. And sure enough, it was. Ben's husband was either the first or the second cumslick hole I've fucked in. Definitely the one that got me hooked. That warmth. That velvet feel. And the fucking sight of him on all fours before me. Now if I can get the two of them, Ben and his partner, doggie, side by side would make me cry. I mean, so much beauty in the world…

Sorry. Lost my train of thought there for a moment. Honestly, don't think a threeway with them would ever work out. I'm not exactly the partner's type and there are also "couple" dynamics involved... lots to overcome to make the chemistry flow to each corner and create an energy that is new, not explode in destruction. It'd be like practicing alchemy.

Anyway, yeah. It took six years but I've fucked the pair of them. And Ben's response was to sigh in mock exasperation how his husband always gets the fresh meat before he does... well, at least the SMS equivalent of that sentiment.

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Ben 3: Open Desire

It early morning and I feel no shame as I openly stare at him. He's less than a half feet away from me, well beyond the borders that suburban sprawl has deemed appropriate for personal space. My eyes have to concentrate to focus on someone so close. I can feel my eyes focus on one eye and then dart to his other and back again, unsure of which one to land on to try to read what the next move is. And in the periphery, I see the muscle of his square jaw contract as if he's grinding his teeth but it's more akin to the instinctual act of a dog licking it's chops. Then his eyebrows furrow, upturned. A look of pure open and honest need. A plea. Desire. Right before he drops all of it and his face gives away and the undertow that is left in its wake pulls us together with such ferocity I'm scared we'll chip our teeth as our mouths meet in a kiss.

Nope, no shame at all. We've met up at a local hotel and even though we both spent the night with our respective partners, the bed is already rumpled. A couple used towels are thrown about haphazardly disrupting the carefully curated brand of tidiness that's pictured in travel sites. We entered the room that way and Ben is well-aware of my insatiable sexual needs that made me take advantage of having the room the evening prior to engage in a quick little romp with the guy I've deemed the QuintessentialBear in these pages. In fact, Ben's refreshingly so judgement-free that we often encourage each other's exploits and share stories and giggle over experiences like two teenaged girls fawning over the star quarterback… but a dirtier version of that where sperm flies all over the place in an orgy.

And that ebb and flow of delayed satisfaction and intense need rippled through the morning as we rumpled the used sheets even further. Teasing his cock with the flick of the tongue before all restraint is lost and I swallow the thing whole. Getting so close to his hole where the moisture from by breath visibly collects on the hairs of his hole before my tongue lashes out and buries itself between the two mounds. Teasing his hole a little with my cock, feeling his hole wink and beckon for the crown of my cock to be inside before pummeling his ass with full length strokes that's punctuated at the end with ball-slapping urgency and purpose.

But what I remember most is not the individual acts, but the giggles afterwards. We've just added yet another conquest to chat frivolously about and that crested wave only left an undertow that pulls us together in a kinship as unabashed fuck pig debauchery.

Tuesday, December 26, 2017

Ben 2

He fumbles with the keypad at his garage.  He’s searching for it, knows it’s there.  He just takes a second.

“To the right.  I think you have to open it,” I suggest lightly.

“Can you tell I don’t usually go in here?”

And with that, he flips the cover open and his hands trace an easy pattern across the keypad and enters in the digits that start a sudden, jarring mechanical whirl of an engine that contrasts significantly from the graceful dance of fingertips that triggered it.  An awkward pause as the door lifts with clatter and clash that is probably so mundane in the suburban surrounds but nevertheless causes alarm for the clandestine nature of the activities we have planned behind the door.

Ben casually strolls inside though, flicks on the light, and find the button to close the door again.

It’s a tight fit.  A one car garage with what I’m assuming is his husband’s car inside it, since he doesn’t use this garage much.  We work our way to the back, squeezing by the tight aisle between the car and the shelving against the wall.  Boxes sit in deliberately casual stacks along the shelf, varying sizes and heights that define a miniature city skyline that we tiptoe along until we settle upon a clearing.

And there, I look up and he has that quiet, piercing look again.  The one that draws you in.  And we inch together until we can delay no more and rush the final gap in an extreme embrace.  Lips lock and he forces the breath out of me as he draws me to him, hugs me close.  Soft, supple lips dissonant to the fervor in which we devour each other.  Definitely not a passive guy.  Active.  Aggressive.

I reach behind him, low.  Sliding underneath the elastic band of his shorts, each hand grabs a mound of ass and I’m impressed with what I feel.  The pics made him look beautiful, but my hands feel something that a picture can’t describe.  Each orb was perfectly round.  The quintessential bubble butt, an even layer of soft skin enveloping two perfectly round, firm mounds.

I rush it a bit more to yank those shorts down to see what my hands felt.  His cock obstructed a clean yank and as I looked down, I realized why.  The kinky bastard was wearing a cock ring all throughout our conversation in the coffee shop.  That explains the extra bounce as he walked and flopped in front of the gardeners.

I take him down my throat in one swallow.  A thick slab of meat that rivaled my own in terms of length.  I explore with my tongue, have it dance across the shaft.  Take the head to the back of my throat and partways down.  I suck in hard to let him feel my whole throat work his shaft.  I oval and form a ring with my lips.  I try all my tricks.  I even cheat and use my hand.  But with each moan, I could tell that none of these would easily get him off.

I grab his hips and start to turn them and notice a slight resistance before his legs, handcuffed by the shorts around his ankles, shuffle to allow me access to his ass.  He smells fresh of the shower, yet masculine.  There’s a faint musk.  And I dive in while he squirms.  This, I can tell, he truly enjoys, but he holds back.  And it’s funny how each ass is different.  His, I can trace the ring with my tongue.  It’s pronounced.  I can chew on it.  It drives him wild but I tell he’s not completely comfortable.  I’m pretty sure I know why.  He hasn’t completely prepped for ass play and that lack of confidence causes a barrier.

I rise back to my feet and make out with him, making him take in his musk that’s on my face and taste himself on my tongue.  He doesn’t hold back. Doesn’t flinch.  I can tell: he’s quite the liberated pig.

All too soon, he shoves my pants down to free my cock of the confines of my jeans.  He takes me into his throat with some skill, but it’s me that holds back this time.

It’s incredibly rare for me to be able to cum from oral alone.  I don’t know why.  Perhaps I’m too distracted with nothing to do.  The curve of my dick doesn’t allow for good face fucking except in very specific positions and it seems way too unnatural for me to sit back and just enjoy the sensations that a guy can pleasure me with.  I immediately think ahead of a guy’s ass.  And just those glimpses of an ass as a guy’s head bobs on my cock is enough for me to want to hold off until I can shoot my load deep inside a different hole.

But Ben persists.  He works hard for my load.  And that same nature that draws people in makes me give in and want to give it to him. I grip the sides of his head.  Slow him down to a rhythm where I can feel each muscle movement along my cock.  And when I feel an orgasm just in the horizon, I double-down on my grip and fuck him in deliberate strokes.  Ignoring any gagging or letting it add to my journey dominating his throat.  And with just a groan of a warning, I blast my pent up load down his throat.


I black out a little in the afterglow until his suckling makes me so sensitive I’m on the verge of losing bladder control.  And I chuckle.  Looking at him.  I’m sure this isn’t the last I’ll see of him.  And it isn’t…

Monday, December 11, 2017

Ben 1

His voice is intriguingly soft yet authoritative, complimenting his kind eyes that aren't afraid of making gentle eye content. I feel like I have to lean across the table sometimes to fully get what he's saying at times. A voice that draws you in. And though I can't read lips, my eyes lower to watch his lips sensually form words that reverberate through the air to lick my ears. Who knew that the light chit chat typical of LA (work, traffic, housing, occasionally weather but that becomes even more mundane as it doesn't change dramatically that often) could be so enticing, especially as my eyes lower even more to his full zip hoodie? My eyes trace the zipper line down to see how it softly lies on his skin. Yes, he's not wearing the customary shirt underneath. Shirtless under his hoodie, he chest hair curls out from underneath. The guy knows what he's doing. Casual hot dad vibes stopping for coffee after a quick run in the morning. It's a good look.

We're both early risers but also both coupled so hosting was a problem. So Ben suggested we meet at a coffee shop early in the morning to see how the chemistry is and, if favorable, let the sexual tension build until we are able to play properly.

The guy knows what he was doing. With such a casual, unaffected flair, he manages to get me hard as a rock the moment we sat down. I couldn't help but weave sexual innuendos into the conversation. Then just blatant admissions of how I wanted to violate his holes. And after every lewd outburst, I sheepishly eye the cop next to me. If we were in a gayer neighborhood, I would have guessed that the cop and the guy he was sitting with was grabbing a parting coffee after fucking all night long. But once again, I'm sure that is just the fantasy in my head from the intoxicating sexuality that Ben is oozing.

I can't hold back anymore.

"You're around the corner. Do you have a garage, cause we need to sneak some playtime in. Right now."

And as we walk to his garage, his cock obscenely bounces left to right with quite some heft. Apparently, the mild conversation and the build up got to him too. He is obviously freeballing it, but that didn't stop him from waving to the gardeners across the street. Casual, confident, sexual. we round the corner and got to the garage…

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

And I’m back...

So I'm going to try to tie in a bunch of thoughts that are probably all separate discrete entities to themselves but I have a tendency to try to wrap things up into a bow to better understand them, even though the knot is loose and the ribbon that binds them all together is completely inadequate and frail. And I'm going to try to get these thoughts out all in one pass, unedited. Just to get my writing hat on 'cause recently I've been inspired to pick this blog up again due to a very kind note from a reader. Beautiful French-Canadian that writes with humility of his poor English. Ironically, he does so in perfectly articulated eloquence. And when I say beautiful, he's a drop-dead gorgeous hunk, the one where you look behind you and then remark in disbelief that he's talking to you. But I digress…

So I've become quite smitten with Colby Jansen. I know nothing of the guy really, but he comes across my twitter feed often in the early mornings when I try to get myself motivated to get off the bed and go to work. So I'm watching it on mute and what strikes me is that he's versatile and doesn't totally follow the normal conventions of porn. He's a beefy, burly kid that fucks and gets fucked by guys of all sizes… and I mean that both in overall mass and the mass underneath the belt. And I love watching a smaller guy totally dominate a guy bigger than himself. I'm sure that's because it mirrors my preferences to open myself up to all sorts of experiences and not limit myself to the guys I play with. There's this tendency to follow some heteronormative conventions in porn where the more masculine guy is the top. Therefore, things that perpetuate masculine ideals are projected as top only: the guy with the bigger dick tops the smaller-docked guy, the guy with the bigger muscles, the bear over the twink, the daddy over the son, hairy over smooth. But that's not real life. Sometimes the daddy craves to ride his son. And some guys love a short fat cock punching their prostate cause let's face it, the prostate isn't ten inches deep and you don't need a foot-long schlong to reach it.

And that's what I fight with on my own twitter content: the need to filter and portray myself in a certain light. You know, sometimes my voice comes off as shrilly and bitchy and that's fuckin' okay. I don't have the biggest dick of the party and I still wanna top and that's fuckin' okay. I might ignore the fact that you're some butch burly top and wanna fuck you 'till you're speaking gibberish and that's cool too. As is me wanting the dick of a small, feminine top with glitter nail polish to fuck the living daylights out of me. 'Cause that's real life. And every now and then I meet some playbuds with some refreshing attitudes that makes sex so liberating and fun, not just a routine of more conventions to follow.

So, as a result, I tweeted an indirectly bitchy tweet about folks that ask for more retweets and likes before they post the whole video. Just do it. Make the porn that you like and send it off to the world. Some may love it. Some may hate it. And maybe some will just appreciate the honesty of the way it exists: real people having real sex in whatever context. But I may be totally attributing my own spin on things. 'Cause I like it real and honest rather than edited and curated. Some might like the fantasy of perfection but for me, I love it when it says "hey, this is me, beautiful in all my glory and imperfections".

At the same time I'm kinda torn. I mean, aren't I advocating a certain perspective? And in doing so, aren't I try to skew perspective. But what I've landed on is that I just need to get out there and do my thing. Eat my own dog food. And hence, I'm going to start writing more text blog entries. For some reason, even though a pic is worth a thousand words, it's just a fuckton of fun just to read about it instead.

Thursday, December 8, 2016

Wrapped up in thoughts

I've been in my head a lot... to the point where I was out with my teammates after a game and all I could do was think about how socially anxious I've become and how I really don't know my teammates that well. And it's just one of the many instances where I've been analyzing my relationship with other people instead of just living it.

I had a threeway with a couple recently. Apparently, I'm their first even though they have an open relationship and often play separately. And the first thing that happens is one guy points to his partner and says, "You're gonna have to work on him to get him comfortable. He gets really shy and body conscious sometimes." And as soon as he said it, I saw what he meant. It was nuts, cause he's an extremely handsome guy. But yeah, he stood there slightly tentatively with an expression of an aggressively masculine stoic nature. I couldn't tell if he wanted to fuck or to punch me in the face. But as soon as I pulled him into a kiss, I could feel him let go a little and eventually yield to being comfortable in his own skin and allowing himself to both desire and be desired.

He just emailed me recently and he told me he had some body dysmorphia issues and is just recently starting to feel what everyone is telling him: that he's a stunningly good-looking guy. And to encourage it even more, I told him even I don't get hit on as much as he does. He was surprised at that. After some reflection to make sure it just wasn't a hyperbole meant to encourage him to strut a little (he deserves to! And I don't think it will ever get to the point where he fundamentally changes and becomes cocky), I honestly don't know if it's true. It could be that I just don't get hit on by the guys I want to hit on me.

Here's the thing: to simplify our world, we've gotten so wrapped up into archetypes and conventions but I'm not sure I'm entirely conventional. The bigger beefier guy is often thought of to be more masculine and the more masculine is thought of to be the top. For some reasons, guys tend to think of Asians as more submissive which I can sorta understand on the cultural level where a lot of social situations are based on subtext instead of explicit instruction which can be seen as the opposite of dominant. Oh, and in porn, the guy with the bigger dick is always the top and I'm pretty average. Don't believe the guys I've been with. It's not big. They're just under a Jedi mind trick.

Anyway, so we generally use conventions to simplify our world so I tend to attract a lot of tops. And I generally don't let that stop me from playing with them. Sometimes I surprise them and they end up with my load buried in their ass. But here's the thing: I can't tell how much of my attractions are genuine and how much are social constructs. I'm really turned on by unexpected role reversals: the smaller guy topping the bigger guy, small cock with big egos, the younger kid manhandling an older daddy-type. Do I just have a natural affinity to older, beefier guys or is it some sort of constructed fetish? When I first came out, I spend a long time trying to figure out who I am, deconstructing things to get at my authentic self no matter how masculine or how feminine it was. And I kinda feel the same way about my physical attraction to others. How much of it is body dysmorphia leading me to like the opposite of me? How much of it is me trying to frustrate the status quo? And why can't I just get out of my head?