Thursday, September 29, 2011

The Happiest Place on Earth

Hey, I just want to say (yet again) that things are starting to look up on my end of the spectrum. Life is being slightly less of a giant bitch to me so I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. As promised, I'm updating whenever I can. Thanks for sticking around.


It isn't really a secret that I love Disney World. At least, it shouldn't be with the amount I talk about my trips there and the amount of Disney shirts I own. I love to go there when I have the extra cash and the time to relax. It is really nice. The first few times I went, both my parents came, and it got increasingly awkward as I grew away from my father to be stuck in a hotel with him and wandering a park with him. So the last two times it was just my mother and I. This story is my second to last trip, taking place between Christmas Day and New Years Day of my Sophomore year of college. First though, I want to recommend that time as a perfect time to go. The parks are open late (some nights until 3am) and the atmosphere is wonderful, especially if you've already been on all the rides and don't mind waiting in line for your favorites. My mother and I would get up late, choose a park for lunch, go back to the hotel, wake up for dinner, and stay out until early morning. A wonderful week, to be sure.

The hotel we stayed at was Coronado Springs, one where each section of the hotel has it's own smaller pool away from the large family pool. This resort has jogging paths, a workout room, and everything you would need for multiple weeks of stay. Now, obviously the week I was there was very busy, but the hotel placed us in the back of the resort where they were keeping the adults. It was away from the family areas and therefore a much quieter and more interesting area.

I would go jogging commando style in the early mornings or at night and enjoy men and women staring at my bouncing package. I spent most of my time not at the park or sleeping in just a Speedo or the short jogging shorts I was using. If it got cold (winter in Florida is still winter) I had some sweats or jeans I would toss on. It was wonderful.

One day in the middle of the week when most people were at the parks, I was out by the small pool in my tight Speedo, trying to get as much of a tan as possible in the somewhat cloudy day. Back then I had only just stopped swimming competitively, so I still shaved my full body daily and had some good muscles to show for it. It didn't take long for me to realize that I was being watched by a couple, the only other people at the pool. One was a middle aged man, maybe in his mid to late forties, and the other was a woman, younger, in her thirties. I knew they were watching and put on a show, a good enough one that they knew I was putting it on for them. With my legs spread and my cock hardening in the tight spandex, I watched them walk over to me. The man was wearing some simple shorts and a tank top, the woman just a bikini. The man was clearly hard in his shorts staring at me.

"Do you like what you see?" I asked as they came up. I was asking both, genuinely interested in having sex with either one. Both were in great shape and showed their bodies well.

"You're great to watch," the woman told me. "I want to watch you with my husband."

"Oh?" I was very interested, but tried to act casual.

"I won't be involved, but I want to watch you fuck my husband. He's open enough, don't worry." The way she stood and showed him off made me think that she might be the Dom in a D/s couple, but I never really found out the true extent of their relationship.

In stead I found out that her husband was, indeed, open and ready. They had not even tried to hide the strap-on she clearly used on him earlier. He was still lubed up, that's how recent it had been. It didn't take long for him to be pulling my Speedo off of me and leading me to the bed. He sucked me off for a while, doing a very good job of it. His wife stripped and sat in a chair, watching us as she touched herself. This was not the first time I had put on a show for a woman, but it was definitely the first time where the woman had been in charge. She told him what to do, and sometimes would order me around as well. We were two men doing everything we could to please each other, but really it was all about pleasing her.

When I slid inside of him, he offered no resistance, but groaned like my cock was filling a deep hunger. His wife was still in the chair, asking him how it felt. "You like that cock, honey? You like having a real cock in you? It is better than my fake one, isn't it." It was hot to hear her egging him on like that. I was new to the world of the top (this was only a month and change after my last bottom experience with Married Nick after all) and I was not as into the aggressive dirty talk. But she knew her way around it and every time her husband cried a response I fucked him harder.

"That's right, you fuck my husband. You show him what your young cock can do to his old hole." She fingered herself watching us and I watched the fingers enter and exit, imagining that I could get in there. I love women that get off watching two men fuck. I think that there is something entirely erotic about a woman watching the wild pig sex of two guys. I rode that excitement and erotic electricity to an orgasm with the husband ass clamped on my cock. We kissed deeply as I moaned my load into him. When he shot his load shortly after, his wife told me to lick it up and feed it to him. I was in piggy boy heaven being told to do what I wanted to do anyway.

They let me shower and clean up in their bathroom before I went back to the pool. When I left, the husband had fingered himself open again and the wife was no where to be seen. He didn't invite me to join him in the bed, so I said my good-bye and left. I saw them at the pool a few more times before they left, but sadly never got to repeat that hot session.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Book Review: The Complete Gay and Lesbian Manners


Today I'm doing something a little different with the blog, something that I hop to do more in the future: a review of a book that might be of interest to my blog readers. Obviously some of you are going to get more out of this than others, but I would like to give this type of post a try and see how you all like it. As I'm still getting over all the life pressures I've been facing recently, I figured I deserve to switch things up a bit on the blog. It will be fun.

Steven Petrow's Complete Gay and Lesbian Manners is a great book not just for members of the LGBT community, but also straight allies and people who generally work or interact with LGBT identifying individuals on a regular basis. This book covers many topics from coming out to family, friends, and at work, to how to ask your two lesbian friends about how they chose the sperm donor for their child. There are transgender issues, safe sex issues, and gay marriage issues, all discussed under the umbrella of proper etiquette. Petrow even includes tips for cruising and picking up tricks at bars.

This book does not pull punches either. While it is clinical in presentation, the situations described within are ones we all have had to deal with, if it is coming out, dating, or negotiating sex with multiple partners. I found some sections to be more related to my life than others (the marriage chapter was one I kind of glossed over without retaining much as few of my friends are in serious relationships), but the fact that all the events described WILL relate to my life at some point or another is what makes this book worth buying. At some point I am probably going to have to deal with the proper etiquette for a lesbian wedding, or the correct way to handle my sexuality in an office environment. And if I don't ever have to worry about that, one of my friends probably will, and I'll have this book to assist them.

Probably one of the best aspects of this book is the questions from actual people Petrow collected on his website. Some of these issues are common (how to react to learning a friend's lover is cheating on him) to more complex problems. These questions are scattered throughout, and for the most part are answered exactly the way I would likely have answered them. I'm not saying that I'm a manners king like Petrow is, but I know my way around good social interaction. Being a part of a well-to-do Southern family means that I'm always very conscious of fitting what is considered polite for the specific social situation. This book really fed in to that desire to fit in.

I don't really have any complaints about this book. A few topics are ones I would probably have handled a little differently were I the one writing it (the topic of bareback sex and what to do if a partner attempts it with you is a little heavy on the side of safe sex), but I really enjoyed reading his take on the issues, even if I disagreed. Like I said earlier, there were some sections that I let just slide by as I read the book from cover-to-cover, but they are ones that I will likely come back to specifically at some point. Who knows, I may have to deal with etiquette around children very soon, depending on how much like rabbits some of my friends are.

There are plenty of references for more information included, if you have further questions. And while some of the topics are ones that seem pretty easy for anyone who has spent any time interacting with the LGBT community, keep in mind that this book was also written to help parents and friends of LGBT people. Petrow has bitten off a lot with this project, and he proves that he can metaphorically chew it all. He really does a good job of providing a Miss Manners-esque book for those of alternative sexualities. I would recommend this book to anyone (gay or straight) who is interested in equalizing social situations.

If you would like to purchase this book, you can buy it for a relatively low price at Amazon, and there is even a kindle edition if you don't want to have the over four hundred page book shipped to you. I would strongly recommend that you buy this book. I enjoyed it, and you will too. Also, let me know if this book review feature is one you would be interested in seeing again. I won't focus only on manners guides, I promise.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Nipple Rings

Ok, I'm finally getting some of my momentum back. While I'm likely not going to be able to post regularly yet, I will try to write when the clouds part and I have the drive. Once I get out of my funk, I should be able to get back on a regular schedule. For now, here is a post about a topic I love very much: My nipple rings.


I remember how spontaneous it felt when I went to get them. Spontaneous even though I had been thinking about getting them pierced since I knew that was an option. I've always been a lover of nipple play, and I had tugged on nipple rings with my teeth before. Everything I read and saw about them made me want them more, made them seem more erotic and inviting. It got to the point where I couldn't imagine not getting it done. I knew it would hurt, and I knew they would take time to heal, but I also knew I would love the way they look and feel. I just had to do it.

I finally got the nerve to go to the tattoo and piercing parlor when I was staying on campus over Thanksgiving break my Junior year. A friend of mine who lived on the floor below me was staying too, and I grabbed her on my way out, not really knowing if I was actually going to go through with it. I believe I told her that I was just going to see how much it would cost and make sure that the place was clean. Maybe schedule a time if everything seemed like it was going to be safe.

When I got to the shop, however, I knew I was going the whole way. I was in it.

The man at the counter told me that the place was closing in twenty minutes, but that he didn't mind doing me. The rest of the people working there were apparently in the back giving each other tattoos for fun. It had been a slow night.

I explained to him that I wanted to pierce my nipples. He showed me my options for first rings, suggesting full circles because they apparently heal better than the bars I had wanted. He lifted his shirt up, exposing his beautifully tattooed chest to show me his own rings. He told me that it would cost me $45 for the piercing and the stainless steel rings. Back then I didn't have a job (had lost my on campus job the year before when my college decided to cut financial aid options) so I was taken aback by the price for a moment, but decided that I deserved a gift.

"Have you ever gotten a piercing before?" he asked, casually glancing at my ears.

"Not permanently," I said, "I've had needles stuck through me before. Just no rings."

He looked somewhat shocked at that revelation, but he also was impressed that I was going for nipples with my first piercing. "My dad has told me that he will rip out any piercings he sees on me," I explained, "So I've gotta get them done where he can't see. That leaves pretty much three places." He laughed and took me and my friend out back.

He was extremely careful and methodical in everything he did. He cleaned off the table before I got on it. He changed gloves every time he finished something. Everything was clean and neat. I felt very safe as he pulled the needle and ring out of the first bag, getting everything ready for my right nipple.

I was a little nervous as I waited for him to start, but I also was excited to go through it. I was ready. He clamped my nipple tightly, and the sharp pain surprised me a bit. It took longer than I thought to become a dull ache. From years of subjecting my nipples to a lot of pain, I knew I could adjust, but I rarely went from just the air to a hard clamp. My breath caught for a moment.

Then I saw him grab the needle. This is it, I thought, Bring it on. When the needle went in I gripped the side of the table hard and my legs went stiff and shook a bit. But, much to the surprise of me, the piercer, and my friend, I started laughing. As I laughed I realized that the pain was not bad at all, and even when I felt the sharp pain again as he pushed the needle out and the ring through, I was beyond excited.

As evidenced by the erection I was now sporting.

I jumped up under the pretense of checking the piercing in the mirror, but I have little doubt that he saw my cock pressing against from my jeans before I had the chance. The realization that I was that hard came too late. But he didn't say a thing.

When I felt that I had gone down enough to resume, he did the left one. It hurt a bit more, but again it was not anything I couldn't handle. This time I didn't even bother to hide my erection. Not only had I gotten hard again from the pain in my nipples, but I had started leaking pre-cum enough to leave a nice dark spot in my crotch. The exhilaration of the pain and the pleasure I felt with it had brought me very close to an orgasm. I didn't even have time to think about the implications of the fact that four puncture wounds in my chest turned me on. I was too busy listening to all the health tips from the guy and admiring the new accessories I had sticking out of my body.

I can't lie: I thought about paying him more to just go ahead and do my cock with it. But I was able to step back from the piercing euphoria for long enough to just leave. I had felt the same after getting my tattoo the year earlier (I got hard for that too). When it was over I just wanted to get more and more. Body modification had become like an addiction to me in that moment. It isn't a real addiction in that I constantly think about it and perform it on myself, but it can get that way in the moment.

I can't wait for my next piercing and my next tattoo. When I have the money I'm going in for a double job: getting an industrial in my ear and a tattoo on my shoulder at the same time. What can I say? I'm a glutten for punishment.

Friday, September 16, 2011

A Thousand Apologies

Everyone, I am so amazingly sorry that I have still not been able to post a blog recently. I actually thought I was going to have some time yesterday to work on one, thought that I was decreasing my stress and getting a breather. But then life decided it would be a good time to slap me in the face. Hard. And it hurt.

We've all had these times in our life where the shit just keeps piling up and up until we feel like we are drowning, but I think that time should be over for me soon. At least, that's my opinion on the subject. Who knows what the universe still has in store for me. I have been dealing with more crap in my life just this summer than I have dealt with before. Things I haven't even mentioned on here because they're stupid or icky or just not worth mentioning. I have, however, decided that I am not going to let it get me down. Last night when I was on the verge of a mental break down, I inhaled deeply and instead said, "I'm not going to lose this. I refuse to be beaten. I am going to come out of this on top, and I am going to prove to whoever is watching that I am better than them. They don't know who they're fucking with."

That's right, boys and girls, Ace has found new steam. All these obstacles may be slowing me down, but I'll be damned if I let them stop me. This is all just a minor set back, and when I get past it all, I am going to be better than ever.

So again, I am so incredibly sorry about how my life has gotten in the way of not just this blog, but everything really. I'm working through it all and I will emerge victorious. In the mean time, please stand by and I will resume the regularly scheduled programming soon.

Thank you so much for your support and love. You are all very dear to me, readers.

-Ace

Monday, September 12, 2011

My Birthday!

Hey, everyone! Thanks for hanging around and not leaving me during all the transitions that have been going on in my life. The stress has sort of continued to pile up with different things from running all over the city on a daily basis to a very close friend of mine who also lives here getting ringworm from her roommates cat (which I have also recently played with, so I'm a little worried too). Not to mention that the tenant before me in my apartment was a total slob. I've only just yesterday cleaned out the oven so that I can make dinner in it. And don't even get me started with the fire alarm malfunction that woke me up Sunday morning at 7:15am. That's a little early to be worried about evacuation and dealing with two firetrucks showing up only to learn that only one fire alarm was going off. Annoyingly, the one right outside my door. There are so many other things going wrong or stressing me out at this time that I can hardly think straight at moments.

I'd like to thank all of you who commented, emailed, tweeted, Facebook-ed, etc., to wish me well and support me during the move. I'll be getting back to posting soon, but expect posts to be irregular as I am still settling in to a routine here. A routine that I'm sure will be messed up once more when I finally land a job. So once again I must ask that you all bare with me on this as I work through my own problems.

I wanted to post today because, as some of you know already, today is my birthday. That's right, Ace has turned twenty-two. Man, it constantly strikes me how young I am. I'm shocked some times. And I'm not the only one. As I stood out in Boston Common at midnight this morning, enjoying the first moments of my twenty-second year, my sadly ringworm-infested friend turned to me and said, "God, I forget that you're so young." She's not really much older than me, but I think what she really meant was to say I act way more mature than most people my age. I can't say I do it on purpose, but I am proud of that praise when I get it.

And I have to send a special thanks to everyone who sent me gifts for my birthday. I have a few more pictures to post in a while of the other gifts I have received. I have loved every one of them. You guys rock and get golden star stickers!

And finally I want to end this post with my birthday wish. I know some people believe that if you tell your wish, it won't come true. But I am a firm believer in the theory that sending out positive energy will bring back positive results. So here is my birthday wish:
I wish that, this day next year, I will be healthy, happy, enjoying school, working at a job I enjoy, finishing moving to a nicer apartment, surrounded by my friends old and new, and content with that path my life is set on. Because, while life's road can be filled with obstacles, you are still living, and that is all anyone can ask for.

Thanks for sharing my life with me. I appreciate all my readers and fans very much.

-Ace

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Gonna Take A Bit Longer Guys

Hey guys, this is just a short, quick post to tell you all that I'm not dead, I'm just having a really stressful time of things right now. I know I promised to be on Twitter as much as possible while I was offline, and I really have, even if it has been practically never. The move has been a rough one for more reasons than one. Yes, moving is usually stressful, but when the person who lived here before you is a giant slob, then a weekend of cleaning is not hard to understand. Also a lot of very sad things have happened while I was moving. For example, on Friday I found out that a man I have known since I was five died of throat cancer at the age of fifty-eight. So sadly I must be away from the blog for a while longer while I get everything sorted out. I truly hope that you all can understand and I am sorry.

-Ace

Friday, September 2, 2011

End of an Era

I am currently in the process of moving to my new apartment. I have pre-written some posts to give you something to have while I make the move, but it may be a while before I am able to post regularly again. I'll try to keep you informed about when that will happen, but the best way to find out about my goings-on is to follow me on Twitter and Facebook.


The last man I fucked while I still called Maine my home definitely felt like the right way to leave things with the state. Maine has not always been a great friend to me. I often have felt ostracized and unloved within its borders. The darkest of my memories all take place in Maine. But I also have some great memories tied to Maine as well. I grew up here and lived almost all of my life here. Even when I was out in Ohio, Maine was technically still my home. I've made amazing friends and had some amazing sex here. I've fucked in some of the beautiful Maine houses, as well as some of the shacks common in the poorer areas. I've fucked on the shore and I've fucked in the mountains. I've also loved some amazing people. Some of those I loved here have actually already left Maine. In a lot of ways, I'm behind some of the people I used to spend time with. Even my mentor, Paul, who had lived here his whole life, left for the other coast around this time last year.

While a lot has happened to me here, I feel like it is my turn to move on. Maybe I'm overdue to move on. I can't be sure, but if I had to go by the interesting circumstances of the man I had sex with Wednesday afternoon, I would say that this is probably the right time for me. I don't put a whole lot of faith in omens or portents, and I'm not one of the people who see deep significant meaning in everything they do. If anything, I see day-to-day life as totally meaningless on a grand scale. But I guess in this case, I couldn't help but see signs.

His condo was in a fairly large neighborhood that sits less than a mile away from my childhood home. It is a neighborhood that I used to go for walks in with my mom. A little past it sits the hill that I used to go sledding down every winter. Down a road that runs perpendicular to the one his place is on, sits the building my dad used to have an apartment in until he married my step-mother. And even farther away, but still close, is the house my parents shared the first few years of my life before their divorce. But it was the closeness to the first house I have solid memories in, the house I lived in right after my mom left my dad. I only have scattered memories of a time before that house, so as far as I'm concerned, that house is like the start of my life. If for no other reason than because it is the beginning of the series of remembered events that have turned me into the man I am today.

Coming to this man's condo to fuck him was like coming full circle. Ending where I started. Like every good epic, the story of my life in Maine shared the same scene. Of course, on Wednesday things were much different than they were when I was three. For one thing, I was there to fuck a man and breed his hole.

He reminded me a lot of myself, especially sexually (which I took as another good sign). He is a top, normally, who enjoys bareback sex whenever he can get some. He seemed to mix things up between passion and and kink, though we did not get nearly as kinky as I sometimes like. But that was fine. There are times for kink, but Wednesday afternoon was not one of those times. Besides, our play was meant to be a means of scratching a hot top's bottom itch, much like my meeting with Rob Steed from A Breeder's Journal. Care is needed when reintroducing us tops to the world of bottoming. While we know intuitively that it will be very pleasurable (we see your faces, bottoms), we also know that in unskilled hands it can hurt a lot. The fact that tops seek me out and allow me to help them is an honor. They trust me to be skilled enough not only to fuck them, but to reopen them and make the experience as pain-free as possible.

It was hard that day. This man was muscular. Not like a body-builder, but strong. He clearly spends a lot of time honing his body. His ass was no exception, and even his sphincter muscles were strong. There were a few times when my fingers hurt bad from the pressure his hole was putting on them. Even with just two fingers, he was crushing them together painfully. He seemed either unaware or unable to control how hard he was squeezing his ass. Even after using more lube than I usually need to for even virgin holes, he still was struggling to take my fingers. But every time I asked him if he was doing OK he said, "Yes." When I asked if he wanted to keep going, he nodded. When he sharply inhaled as I wiggled inside of him, he also pushed my fingers in further. He was a study in contrasts.

He was also very distracted by what was going on outside. After the hurricane a lot of places were getting work done and his neighborhood was no different. But he seemed unable to ignore what was happening. His lack of attention to the sex hit the highest and most annoying point when right after I first pushed all the way into him, down to my base, he asked if I could pull out so that he could close the blinds in case the workers saw into his second story window and caught us fucking. I was of the opinion that if they want to look inside the house, we might as well be giving them a show, but he wanted none of that. So I pulled out and he went to take care of it. When he got back into the bed, I made sure there was no mistaking that my intent was to take that ass. His legs were on my shoulder and I was buried in to the hilt.

His attention shifted back to me and only me. His hands massaged my back as I fucked him. His warmth spread around me as we held each other close. Every once in a while he would demand, "Kiss me," which I would do grudgingly. This man's idea of kissing was the passionately smush our lips together. No tongue, no open mouth. He didn't respond to my attempts to open either. Which was fine, I guess. It just gave my little incentive. The hardest part, though, was the pain on my end. Remember how he was crushing my two fingers painfully with his ass? Now look at my cock at the top of the blog. Wider than two fingers, right? Yeah. It hurt when he squeezed his ass. Not as much as before, as he had loosened up, but still bad.

Fortunately a little pain can go a long way to making me fuck more aggressively. I took the pain and used to to pound his ass, punishing him with a particularly deep, hard jab every time the pain in my cock threatened to make me go soft. This had the double effect of being rough on him and keeping my dick hard. But it wasn't until I convinced him to flip into doggy position that I was finally able to have an easier fuck. Doggy style is when it got good. This man knew how to arch his back, and I happened to be the right size to meld my body to his, keeping my hairy chest to his smooth back while still pumping away at him. In this position I came in him twice, filling him up with the cum he so needed.

After we finished he jumped up again, distracted by the sounds of work outside. He went to his windows to look out while I just leaned back and rested. When he finally settled back down, we were on opposite sides of his bed, talking and looking at each other. He was staring at me as if confused. "I don't know what it is about you," he said, "I shouldn't find you attractive. I don't like the long hair thing, though I like the hairy chest. And I usually don't go for guys under thirty, definitely not under twenty-five. But there's something about you..."

"I'm pretty mature for my age," I offered. I was not really sure how to react to his words. They were almost like backwards compliments: telling me how I was attractive even though I had supposedly unattractive qualities.

He never did figure it out, but by the time I left and he was running back up stairs to get underwear to help with my cum leaking from his hole, he had come to peace with the fact that he found me attractive. He knew that I was moving the next day, but he told me to look him up again some time. If I ever came to Maine for a visit. I told him to do the same if he came to Boston. No idea if either of us ever will, but as I walked away from his door I looked at the area around me, seeing it through the young eyes of memory and the adult eyes I have now. It was peaceful. I knew that what had just happened was the end of an era for me, and that every step I took from that point on was another beginning for me.