Wednesday, November 30, 2011
I guess what I want to talk about first is my lack of any sort of a sex life to talk about recently. I have seen an increase in people asking me how things are going with that in my emails, and I wanted to address that issue in the blog because I'm sure more of you are wondering. I have not had sex since my post with the Professor at the beginning of the month. Once again, this is not because I have stopped being my usual horny self. If anything, I am way more horny because of my lack of sex. There just seems to be a constant barrage of things getting in my way, and I don't have the time I used to have to cruise for sex online.
In reality, I also don't have much of a social life these days. To the point where in a recent bout of depression I wondered if I had done something to run my friends away or upset them. There are certain people I talk to pretty regularly and when I don't hear anything from them it can really tweek me out and I start to worry. I know I sent more than one of them a message along the lines of, "Are you ok? I'm worried because I haven't heard from you in a while." I hate to admit it, but when I don't hear from people I really care about, I immediately assume I did something wrong and it grates on my nerves. I assume it is part of my constant struggle with that annoying depression voice in the back of my head. But something about it makes me believe it.
I think part of the problem is that, before I moved, I had a fairly active social life at school, and a group of people I was close to that I saw almost every day. Now I hardly hear from those people, and a few of them I haven't heard anything from in a while. And those I have heard from have mostly been through emails and other things like that. What I really miss is being able to talk to people face-to-face, or even just voice-to-voice. I've always been one for long phone conversations and I miss having them with certain people.
I can't help but think that with my old solid social network, I would be able to get past all the other stresses in my life a bit better. But these days I feel so disconnected it amazes me to remember that I live a rather short distance from people I know in the city. I talk about not liking my apartment, yet I have somehow (without even knowing it) allowed it to cut me off from the outside world. Some days I feel like I'm on an island off the coast instead of attached to the continent. It is a very strange and displaced feeling.
What makes it worse is that I already have all these strings pulling at my heart anyway. As I have said before on this blog, when I love someone deeply and unconditionally, that love doesn't just go away. It is forever. Yet, with my move and other circumstances, I feel myself very far away from those I love, and it affects me a lot more than I ever thought it would. Recently people who I don't usually think about except as fond memories have been weighing on my mind and I can't really explain why. But the pressure pushes the more recent and closer bonds down on me too.
I'm not sure if I'm making sense in what I'm saying anymore, and I don't want to come off like a crazy person. I'm actually functioning very well (thank you). But it is very difficult to explain how going from being a very social and in-the-moment person to the hermit-like man I have become can cause strife. I guess the best way to explain it is to imagine you are holding a bundle of balloons and each balloon is one of your friends and the strings are your communication. If the strings are cut, the balloons fly away, and you don't get them back. Obviously friendships don't work that way, but in my darker moments I have the irrational notion that they do. Add to that the equally irrational notion that all the strings have been cut at once, and you're left with Ace jumping around trying to grab at balloons that are flying everywhere. It isn't a pretty picture.
I'm sorry to vent into the blog like this. Once again, I never intended for this blog to be anything but a telling of my sexual adventures. But I suppose to talk about the ways and hows of sex, you have to talk about the ways and hows of the times when sex is one of the last things on your mind. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, right now, I would love to be fucking, but I don't need it. What I need is to make some friends.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Now on to the questions, which, like always, can be asked of me at my Formspring account or by emailing me.
Do you prefer a male or female doctor?
Thursday, November 24, 2011
This year I am incredibly thankful for you all, my readers. In the six months (half a year!) that I have been keeping this blog, you guys have kept me going through some tough transitions, moves, and general bad moods. You have all helped me carve out a small niche in the internet where I am able to share my experiences and thoughts with people I have grown to know, and readers who are so very nice and caring for me. Truly, you all have made the blogging experience so much easier and enjoyable for me. I know other bloggers have regular rude commentors, but other than a few rare bad seeds, all of my readers have been amazing to me. Thanks to you all, as of the writing of this post, I have 112 published blog entries, 942 comments, 70, 285 views (WOW!), and people reading from all parts of the world: America, Europe, Australia, and the Middle East have all made a huge dent in my statistics.
So today I want to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart all the way to the top. I have included in this post some extra-special Thanksgiving Ace Candy, which I hope you will all enjoy.
|You can tell this was in the mirror.|
|I tried to make my cock the exclamation point.|
|And then I covered it in my cum. Who wants to lick?|
Thank you all so much.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
It was my friend's birthday and I was recovering from mono. We were all staying the night in the beach house her parents rent out every year, the same thing we had done the year before. The idea was to give us a safe place to drink away from her parents and with plenty of bed and couches for us all to have a place to sleep. The previous year the party had been full of drunken antics by all of us, staying up until four in the morning drinking and playing games, and then half of us woke up again at seven to discover that those of us who had eaten potato skins had food poisoning. I can tell you from first-hand experience that being drunk, sick, tired, and a little hungover at the same time is not a good combo.
This year I did not want to make the same mistake. I knew I was sick going in. I had a cup in my hands, but I never finished the drink and I never filled it up more. I simply would hold on to it and act like I was drinking from it regularly. As my friends got progressively more drunk, they just assumed I was keeping up with them. In reality, I was way behind and enjoying the show to a great extent.
Something that seems to always happen when this particular group of friends gets drunk: we get naked and pile on top of each other. The previous year, after those of us dealing with food poisoning finished (to put it politely) expelling the bad food, those of the poisoned who were still drunk ended up passed out in a pile on one of the couches. I don't remember who I was on or who had their head in my crotch, but there are pictures if I ever want to know.
This year I didn't expect to be a part of the rough and tumble antics. Partly because I assumed that my friends, like me, had already gotten over their love of heavy party drinking and were more social drinkers; and partly because as the night wore on, those of us not drinking started to separate from those who were. I was wrong, of course, and soon found myself the center of attention of the three other guys there.
At this point in the night, all three were shirtless, making me the only dude there with a shirt on. They were ragging me about it and finally, in an effort to get them to leave me alone while I washed the dishes and put the leftover food in the fridge, I took my shirt off.
"Woah! You have nipple rings?" They all crowded around for a look, amazed at the metal rings in my chest. I was a little surprised by their reactions, considering two out of the three had already seen them before.
"Can we touch them?"
That was a mistake. They started groping and flipping my rings and all that did was send shock-waves of pleasure straight to my hardening cock. I quickly pulled myself away from their hands before my bulge got out of control, and they pouted and sulked like children losing a toy. Finally I told them to leave me alone so I could wash the dishes without breaking any. It wasn't a concern, but it was a believable excuse.
I continued with the dishes for maybe ten more minutes, cleaning up all the cake and ice cream and other strange alcoholic mixtures, when I was surprised by arms grabbing me from all sides. I was soon pulled to the ground and covered by three men. It took me a few moments to realize that all three were naked, and a few moments more to note that all three of them were working to get my pants off. Meanwhile all the girls of the party were sitting on the couch across the room, watching, and proving my theory that all ladies like to see some male-on-male action. I admit that I did not put up much of a fight, and soon I was naked and at the bottom of a four man pig pile.
I would love to tell you that we ended up in some kind of amazing orgy, but all the energy of wrestling and stripping me after being up all night had tuckered the guys out. After a while of all of us just laying there, I got them to roll off me and we were just four guys plopped out on the floor. I was the first to start putting my clothes back on, and the others followed, though none of them got fully dressed again.
Shortly after that one of the guys who was really wrecked threw up and we all got together for the clean up, considering the party to be pretty much over. Once he was safely washed off and in bed, a few of us walked to the beach where one of the guys and I strolled over to group of rocks. It was a cold night and the water was even colder, but we were still out there in very little clothes, just enjoying looking at the sky and talking. We started talking about sex and our first times, and he told me that for a while he used to make out with guys just to get girls to make out with him in what I assumed was some strange variation of the Truth of Dare game. I put my hand on either side of him on the rock and leaned in, letting my lips press against his under the cold starry sky.
Monday, November 21, 2011
There are some things I have picked up along my short life that seem to stick. Like the way I put my hands on my hips when I'm just doing nothing (as opposed to when I'm mad, which is when a lot of people put their hands on their hips). That I know I got from my mother. For years I bit my nails, another habit of my mother's, though I have been nail-biting free for over two years now. Then there are things I made a part of my life because of people I admired. I would take what I liked of other people and try on different guises, which eventually helped me become the self-styled man I am today. There were those late-90s goths who bordered on Cyberpunk that inspired me to dress in black with spikes and chains most days in the eighth grade. That look has stuck around, though I wear it less often. I've looked up to professional athletes, specifically swimmers, baseball players, and dancers, which has prompted me to continue my interest in those sports to this day (I like hockey now too, but that is newer). Kurt Cobain and other grunge artists are what inspired me to grow out my hair when I was younger, though I only recently was allowed to. It is interesting what small things have stuck and where they come from.
Then there was Kevin. Kevin was a guy who I met the summer between my Sophomore and Junior years of High School. He was a swimmer, and he came to practice over the summer on my club team as a way of staying in shape for swimming at college. Summers were frequently a time for college swimmers to come back, though most of them only talked and interacted with each other, ignoring the rest of us. Kevin was different, and he and I swam a lot of the same events, so we eventually developed a form of camaraderie. I would not call it "friendship" because every time I looked at him it was like looking up at an idol. I know I have mentioned being affected by older and better swimmers this way before, but with Kevin it was more than just the swimming. I saw Kevin as a perfect picture of the man I eventually wanted to grow up to be. He had a square jaw, masculine lines, he was muscular, but not thin, clearly very strong. Like all swimmers his shoulders were huge, and he had a way of rolling his swim cap up so it covered less of his head, but still looked very cool.
But what I liked best about him was his smile. The crooked way one side of his mouth would turn up when he smiled because he was truly happy. When his eyes were bright above that smile, I would melt in an instant.
I remember loving the moments that I had together with him. Frequently we were the only two men who would show up for the early morning swim practices that summer, and I would have plenty of time to chat with him. We talked about everything: college, swimming, family, friends, probably hitting on every subject imaginable. I was fiercely jealous whenever he would give his attention to other people on the team, though there was one female swimmer I enjoyed us hanging out with and I have no idea why I wasn't jealous of her. One other college swimmer, Eric, was there that summer. He was physically more attractive than Kevin, but a real prick. When the two of them were together, all I could do was imagine them fucking and then rage at my imagined injustice. I wasn't in love with Kevin, but I grew to live for the moments when we were close. Moments in the shower together when he made me feel like his equal, when he made me warm, when he touched me...
The physical ways Kevin touched me were fleeting moments, but the ways he touched and has touched my life can still be seen to this day. If I had to point out one way Kevin's impression has still stuck to me, I would point out my smile. I now smile in the same half-smile that Kevin would. I don't even remember if copying it was a conscious choice of mine, and I had actually forgotten all about the smile until recently someone described my smile to me. When they told me what my smile was like, my mind clicked and I realized it was Kevin's smile on my face. He has affected me in other, less visible, ways too. I think my generally easy-going demeanor is partial a fabrication based on his own beach-boy-like comfort in any situation. My ability to enter any room, regardless of how well I know the others there or what will happen, with a smile on my face and an easy step seems to come directly from him.
When I think about how he is still clearly a part of me, even though after that summer I never saw him again, I have to smile and feel good. There have been plenty people in my life who were just terrible to me, and who I would never want to see as a part of myself. That Kevin, this wonderful and kind man, has clearly been a huge influence on me makes me lucky. I'm happy to be molded partially from him.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
The second shout out goes to Rob the Breeder. Last night he posted on his Twitter account that it had been exactly a year since he had first met Spencer, the man who gave him so much joy last winter and spring while he packed up and sold his old house. Regardless of what you think of Rob's sex life (seriously, his more vocal detractors are a little scary), no one can deny the beauty of the relationship he and Spencer had. That kind of love is rare and should be celebrated by all those exposed to it. Yes, I realize I'm exposing my romantic side right now, but that is how I feel. We should all aspire to love someone so much.
Both men are really spectacular in their own way, and both are well worth knowing and supporting. Thanks for bearing with me while I show my appreciation to them.
As always, I welcome any and all questions to either my Formspring account, my e-mail, or the comments in my blog. I love answering these questions as it allows me to connect to my readers on a different level than just my regular blog posts. Enjoy.
For the 3 years that I've been having sex with men, I've always been a bottom boy. Lately I've really wanted to try and top, but it's too embarrassing to even try when I already know that in a matter of minutes I'll be soft. I need help.
If the softness issue is something that just happens when you have sex, however, you may need to talk to your doctor. Erectile dysfunction is nothing to be ashamed of, and it can be treated. If it is physiological, then some pills can help the problem. If it is mental, then a therapist might be able to help you overcome whatever is blocking your erection.
I think what you really need to do, though, is think about what your fantasies are when you jack off. What gets you the most hard when you picture it in your mind's eye? If you always imagine a large cock sliding in and out of your ass, then you might want to just stick with that. Sex is about discovery and learning and doing what it is you most want to do. So explore what it is you like and see if that helps you any.
Gay Math; “If the park ranger inspects the restrooms every 4 hours and it takes Glenn 12 minutes to get a stranger off, how many strangers can Glenn service between inspections?”
rate me on looks 1-10. and if you have the balls press the ask followers button[;
And this is probably the last time I'm going to answer one of these questions.
When you were younger, did you ever hookup with any of your friends' dads? Did you ever notice any of the dads checking you out?
How big is the equipment that you are packing in your pant? Okay how big is your damn cock?
Have you ever sexed someone on a trampoline while it was raining?
Are you a fan of the James Bond films?
If you heard that a child was being abused by a neighbour, how would you handle it?
If you had to estimate, how many people with whom have you had sexual relations? (Don't go all Bill Clinton and don't try to weasel out of the question. Give a number and be honest.)
How long since you cruised a park?
Saturday, November 19, 2011
If you would like to purchase something for me to model for the blog, I have a wishlist up at Amazon that I frequently fill with things I like but can't afford (especially in my current state of unemployment). While I don't require payment for the blog, I will post pictures of myself modeling anything bought for me by my readers. It is my humble way of saying thank-you to those who are ultra-generous, like today's VIP: FelchingPisser.
If you would like to see earlier Ace Candy posts, click the label at the bottom of the post. I hope you all enjoy.
|"The Spartan" by Don Harrison propped on my boots|
|"The Prince and the Pretender" by Vincent Lardo, boot, thong, and pit--All it one picture!|
|"China House" also by Vincent Lardo|
|"The Fourth Wall" by N. A. Diaman for you boot fans|
|"David at Olivet" by Wallace Hamilton tucked in my leg|
|I did a more "ahr-tis-tic" shot of the above|
|And ending with a nice full-body shot|
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
I have lived in Boston for two and a half months now, and while I have not been a social butterfly, I have been making my rounds. Sadly my personal issues (family, apartment, unemployment) have gotten int he way of me becoming an active part of the community here; part of any of the communities. I have been lurking around the parameter though, taking notes for my inevitable entrance into the gay community here. This is my normal tactic, being a wallflower first, before entering a group dynamic, but I usually am more active about doing it. As someone who doesn't fit very well into a set group (not gay, not straight, not a nerd, not a jock, not popular, not a loser) I have always needed to be flexible in my social movements, and I'm usually sucessful. By the time I enter a group dynamic actively, I know exactly what to expect, and that comforts me, I guess.
Here are some of my observations about gay life here in the city based on two and a half months of semi-active examining. Some of these observations may not be correct. They are all based on my experiences so far. I'm sure in a year's time I will have different things to say.
1. There isn't much of a defined gay community.
This is not to say that there isn't a gay community, there is. There are a lot of LGBTQ individuals in Boston, as one would expect in a larger population group. What I mean here is that the gay community doesn't separate itself wholely from the community at large. I don't actually see this as a bad thing, just a different thing. While there are definitely traits that set the LGBTQ Bostonians apart from the rest, you're more likely to find a mixed sexuality group of, say nerds (for example), than you are two groups of gay and straight nerds. Red Sox fans, aside from being awesome, don't segregate. I've seen gays down at the Cask N' Flagon as well as straights and once the beers are opened and the game is going, no one really cares who you are unless you support the wrong team.
2. Gay bars aren't what they say on the tin.
I haven't made my way to all the gay bars in Boston, but I have been checking things out as best I can. One thing I think goes for a lot of the trendier gay bars in the area is that you are not going to hook up there unless you are extremely attractive. This isn't because only shallow people populate them (though depending on the crowd, any bar can fall into this trap), but more because a lot of the club-like bars in the area are dominated by the young gay men who have brought their straight female friends for a night of drinking, dancing, and talking about boys. While this isn't a new thing (we all know about fag hags even if we hate the term), what it does is open the door to too many straight people. The gay bar no longer is a gay bar, just a bar that gay people like, and oh, they alway know what is trendy so we should go there while in town. So instead of dancing with some nice guy you're eager to buy a drink, you're shuffled around the floor by women there dancing with their gal pals because they are too scared to dance somewhere where guys might try to flirt with them.
I think the problem is more the age group than the city. By that I mean, when I go to the bars for the young twenties, this is what I see. I haven't been to any of the gay bars populated by the older crowds, though I definitely want to. I know there is a gay sports bar that sounds great, and I've been informed of various karaoke opportunities, which I love to take whenever I can get a drink in me first. So hopefully my take on this subject will change.
3. If you like bears, come check out our bears.
I am a fan of all body types, but can I just say, "Wow, look at all these handsome bears we have here!" I've managed to meet a bunch since moving here, and even become friends with a wonder bear of a man, and the bearcandy just doesn't stop. We've got thinner otter types, wolves, big and burly, chubby; we got it all. If you are shopping for bears, this is a great stop. If you like the idea of a sexy lumberjack, bearded with flannel, keeping you warm at night, you can probably find one around here. In fact, I have been entertaining notions of snatching myself one for the cold winter months ahead. Maybe it is just because I hang out with a handsome, charming, oh-so-sweet bear, but I really have been seeing more than a few of them. Even the straight guys have a nice muscular furry look. Scruff abounds in Bean Town, dear readers.
Those three observations are what I have so far. I'm sure you're thinking, "That's it? After two and a half months?" Let's just say the time spent on research is probably more like three-quarters of a month and leave it at that.
Monday, November 14, 2011
A friend of mine who organizes yearly summer trips to Ireland at a college was talking to me about his efforts to recruit students for the upcoming trip. Usually they have a table at a big opening festival on campus where they advertise to the students and just get people to sign up to learn more. He and his friend both try to get as many of the attractive college boys to sign up; according to him, running around after them if they have to. They don't have sex with any of them (that I know of) but they do like their eye candy on the multi-week trip. So the booth job also subs as a sort of boy-scouting campaign to find the hot guys who may be interested.
When he arrived at their first meeting, he told me, there were around twenty-five to thirty students who came back for more information, and almost all of them were women. Much to his dismay, of course. A few men did show up, but not that many. So in their next advertising campaign, they used signs that advertised sports and camping events as a means of attracting a more masculine crowd. However, at the second meeting, not a single male student showed up. His outrage was palpable as he related the story to me. He wondered what more he could possibly do to make sure that there was something nice to look at besides the Irish scenery.
"Maybe you should just come out with it," I suggested, meaning that they should say there is a shortage of male students for the trip.
"I think the problem is that we are too out with it," he replied.
He is not exactly the most masculine and manly of men, and I get the sense that his partner in this is even more fey. He worried that they had frightened potential male students away by being a bit too openly gay while discussing the trip. I tried to console him, telling him that he wasn't flirting with the boys, but he coughed in a way that suggested that maybe he was a bit. Then I pointed out that at least he wasn't running over and grabbing their asses and being totally obvious about it. Apparently that is how his friend gets guys to come home with him from the bar (see, confidence is sexy).
"Did you maybe try NOT flirting with the guys? Or not staring at them?"
Apparently that particular tactic was not one they employed.
But part of me thinks that there is no reason for them to hide their stares, as long as it is a quick look as opposed to a full-out drooling gaze. There is also no reason why a little flirty banter should put off the straights. After all, straight (and bi) men are socially allowed to look at and casually flirt with women who may or (more likely) may not be attracted to them. Why then, I wondered, should it be a problem for a gay man to do the same with other men, gay or straight?
There are other factors involved, of course, in the above scenario. Having recently been an undergraduate, I know that there is a level of awkwardness that builds the more the professors drop their hard-won authority and get friendly or even flirty. It wasn't until my senior year that I even started feeling comfortable enough with my own maturity to talk easily with a professor outside of the academic setting, and I was way ahead of my fellow students. But the student/professor aspect isn't what I want to explore. It is the social norms that I want to hit on today.
The question I really want to look at is one of double standards, I guess. We clearly expect women to be OK with the casual flirting (except, of course, in situations where it is clearly sexual harassment--but let's not go there) but do we expect the same of men? Obviously my male readers will have more experience with this, but I would like to hear from the women too. Why do men feel uncomfortable when they are the "object of scrutiny," so to speak? The Male Gaze is a well documented phenomenon involving men objectifying women, but what of the gaze that objectifies the men?
I think I may be the exception to this rule, honestly, because I always respond well to casual flirting, regardless of who engages me or their gender. If we are on friendly terms and you flirt with me, chances are you'll get it back; maybe doubled or tripled if I'm feeling frisky. But most men don't react that way. Why is that?
Please leave you thoughts in the comments. I really look forward to hearing what you all have to say, and throwing my own two cents in every so often.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
The good news is, I've been getting relatively more sleep recently than I was at the start of the week. In fact, my weekend has actually been very nice so far. From spending time with a loved one on his birthday to hanging out with some sexy bears in a local band last night, I have had a lot of fun. I certainly have been smiling more than frowning, and that is always a good sign.
With that, on to the questions. I'm going to start off today's post with a few that I received in my email before diving in to my Formspring account (both places where you can ask me anything). I honestly answer all questions that are too personal or insulting.
Have you even been in a 3-some where you were in the middle and gotten fucked while you were fucking someone else.
No, I have never been in the middle of a three-some. The closest I have come to that is getting my ass played with while I was fucking someone else. Or wearing a butt plug while fucking. But I've never been the meat of the sandwich.
What is your favorite type of foreplay?
It really would depend on my mood and the person I am with. Cuddling is great foreplay for me, but is just as likely to lead to me falling asleep if I'm not well-rested. I love kissing and am considered a great kisser. When I'm match with another skilled kisser, I'm guaranteed to get hard. I can get hard watching kissing.
What is your favorite position to fuck in?
I'm a fan of "Splitting the Bamboo" especially when the guy is rolled more onto the side of the bottom leg.
What is your favorite position to bottom in (I know you don't bottom much anymore)?
Doggy or laying face down is good these days because it hurts less. When I was a power bottom, I was also pretty flexible, so I got in some pretty fun positions with my legs up by my ears.
Do you use a cock ring and if yes, what kind?
I do. Mine is of the leather strap that snaps variety, which I like a lot except you have to be very careful about catching your pubes in it. Still, I like being able to control how tight it is without worrying about if it will get stuck.
What toys do you like to use? Do you use them on yourself, or your partner?
I love toys of all kinds. Nipple clamps, dildos, butt plugs, paddles, all are good. I love when a bottom wants me to work their hole over with some toys before I fuck them. Gets me hot and in the mood.
Now for some Formspring:
When you don't have the energy to do something, what do you use to motivate yourself?
Generally I use food as a motivation tool. Like if I finish I'll give myself a treat. Sometimes that doesn't work though. I've had papers or something I had to write where I was so unmotivated that I was struggling to write a paragraph at a time, each paragraph rewarded by one cute puppy or kitten video on YouTube.
In an ideal relationship, what would you spend the majority of your time doing?
Do you mean as a couple? Because in an ideal relationship I would spend most of my personal time doing what I do now: reading, writing, and watching movies. As a couple I guess chatting and touching. I like it when you are with someone so much that you stop noticing you are touching, only when you stop.
Age wise, what do you consider old?
I can't even see it as being an age thing. I know a guy who is 62, looks like he's in his 40s, and acts like he is even younger. And I know people who are in their 30s and act like they're dying. It really depends on a lot of things. There's not set age where I could say, "Dude's freaking old." Though 80 seems to be a pretty good cut-off. But I'm sure some day I'll meet a spritely 80 year old and be proven wrong.
What is your opinion on armpit hair?
Love it. I don't need a guy to have it, but I love when he does. And I really hate when I lift up a guy's arm and see a rash from shaving. As a former competitive swimmer who used to regularly shave his armpits, I have to say: Learn how to shave it right.
Would you give a homeless person CPR if they were dying?
Hmmm...My answer to this is complex. I would say yes, because I know how and I wouldn't want to let my neglect be the cause of any kind of death. However, I'm no longer certified to perform CPR, so really someone who is should do it. If there is a certified person around, they should do it. Other than that, I don't see why not.
What's your leather collection like and what would you like to get next?
Friday, November 11, 2011
I got back from the professor's house in the early hours of the morning. We had spent so much time talking that I hadn't noticed the time flying by. It was around four in the morning, even after the fall back, which meant that I had been at his house until almost five by my body clock. Where had the time gone? I was more than a little disoriented, but I guess I had been having more fun than I had thought.
I immediately stripped off my clothes and slid into my bed. I had already been awake to the point where it didn't matter that we had gained an hour, I had basically spent that extra hour and then some, guaranteeing that I was not going to feel good when I woke up. By the time I had slid into my covers, I had already been awake around twenty hours that day with little time to relax. I closed my eyes, expecting to quickly drift off to sleep.
Of course, that was not going to happen at all.
I live in a lighted basement apartment, meaning I'm in the basement but there are plenty of windows to make up for that fact. Still, on the other side of my bedroom wall where my head board rests is the laundry room, and on the other side of my bathroom wall is the area the furnace sits in. For whatever reason, the furnace was having a problem that night. It would turn on sporadically, intending to keep the building warm like usual, but this time it was shaking and rattling around. I don't mean just a few shakes and shivers, either. It was shaking so violently that the walls, floors, and ceiling of my apartment were all shaking and I couldn't get to sleep. I kept trying, hoping that if I drifted off I would sleep through the noise, but every time I fell asleep I would wake up moments later.
After 5:30 in the morning I decided that I would move into the living room and sleep on the couch. The sounds and shaking were still noticeable there, but less than in the bedroom. Twice while moving myself I called the management company (who have been less than gracious to me in the past) and told them what was happening. I also looked at the furnace and noticed some pieces were loose and then even went upstairs to notice that the first floor was shaking too.
I did finally fall asleep, though it was a hard-won sleep and I woke up as tired as I had been the night before.
The next day I still noticed the shaking, but it stopped happening after a while. Instinctively I knew that it was because the day was warmer, but I hoped that it was really because the management company had fixed it. Of course, they hadn't, and that night was another spent in the living room trying not to notice the horrible sensations running through my floor. And the worst was yet to come.
I was woken earlier than I wanted Monday morning by banging on the doors of the building. It was the firemen, and not the first time they have been to this building since I moved here. The other basement tenants let them in this time, but I opened the way to the basement to see what was up. What the fireman told me shocked me and pissed me off.
"We had to shut off the furnace," he said, "The venting wasn't hooked up. If it had stayed on more than twenty minutes at a time then it would have flooded the basement with carbon and your guys wouldn't have known it was happening." He was basically telling me that I almost died in my sleep.
I called the management company immediately and related what the firemen had told me. I soon received a call from the head of the company himself, a rude little man for whom I have no respect. As I told him everything I knew, he repeatedly tried to cut me off and even raised his voice to me. Me. His tenant. A client he is supposed to be taking care of. And I wasn't calling for a trivial matter either.
With that phone call done I jumped in the shower to get as much hot water as I could and then got ready for a job fair. But the whole time I was dressing nicely, I couldn't help but remember that this past Saturday, amid all the family stuff we had done, my mother had talked to me about the fact that we have enough leverage to break my lease early and move me to a new apartment. That was before the furnace broke. I should say that now there will not be any problem at all.
Of course, that means that on top of finding a job and everything else I'm trying to do, I need to look for a new apartment. Disillusionment, thy name is Ace. It has also become clear to me that, unless I suddenly find a well-paying job, I'm probably going to have to get a roommate to help pay rent. All of this is very frustrating. I'm enjoying being on my own. But, I suppose I have to do what I have to do. As it is, my savings are almost gone.
I should have titled this post "Le Sigh."
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
I only met up with him once while I was in college. He was staying at a nearby hotel and I drove out for a night of fun with him. He had what can only be described as a baby face, but not a totally proportionate one. His lips were a little too pouty and his eyes just a little too close together for him to be model-handsome, but he was good enough looking for me. He was an older man, probably in his mid-fifties, but definitely not near sixty. He had enticed me by renting a room with a hot tub. Dorm showers being what they are, a tub soak was just what I needed. We decided that we would tub it and then fool around.
The sex with him is not something I remember well. I was in mid-transition to top. I had already had my last bottoming experience with Married Nick and was becoming the total top man I am today. But I was still a bit submissive back then, not having discovered my natural topping abilities yet. There was no fucking in our night together, just a lot of petting, sucking, and cuddling to spread around.
When I first arrived we did the usual hook-up small talk while we waited for the hot tub to fill with water. It was the winter, so we waited until the tub was full and bubbling hot before we started taking our clothes off. He cuddled me under his arm and we played around naked in the heat for a while, staying in the tub until the temperature dropped from hot to luke-warm and then we got out to dry off. He stepped out first and walked over to the other side of the hotel room where the towels were to get us some.
This is the part I remember the most out of the time spent with him. On his lower back, roughly where a bar crawler might have her tramp stamp, he had scars on his skin that were clearly in the pattern of the number thirteen. At first I doubted what I was seeing, thinking that I must be just reading shapes into his skin, but I got to see that part of him a few more times during the night and it was definitely a scarred number in his flesh.
I couldn't help but wonder where he got that. Was it a tattoo he had removed? It looked like it could have been, especially if the removal was recent. But my thoughts quickly spread past that. Was he scarred as part of a gang? Some incident in jail? Did he have some dark past to him that I could not gleam from his smiling face and gentle touches? As we rolled around on the bed, a section of my mind was constantly spinning wild tails of his life, reasons why he had been branded with that number. I desperately wanted to know the reason.
But I never asked. I left that night, wondering if I could or should ask him. We barely knew each other. It would be awkward. But as I walked to my car, I wish I had. I was filled with regret at having missed this man's life story. I knew a lot about his recent history, about him running a movie theater in a nearby town, and many other things. But there was so much I had not known, things I don't normally think to ask a partner, things I would not have thought to ask had I not seen the number on his back. In a way that was the first time I acknowledged that the men I have sex with might have some kind of unsavory past I don't know about. What have my past conquests had in their closets? What secrets did they hide behind unfocused eyes and twitching jaws? When I have sex, I am not just trying to fuck someone, I'm trying to experience them. And there are times when I am shown that what I get is not the full experience. We don't always take a whole person into ourselves, they don't always give their all.
Maybe that is why I have been hurt in love and relationships so much. I don't hold back as much as others do. I explore every connection, both physical and emotional, in the short time I have with my partners. I give deeply, and I try to take just as much. It is definitely something to think about.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Saturday I spent most of my day at one of two family things. Both of them were stressful and tiring in their own way. In between I was dealing with my mom who was just as stressed as I was. The problem with my mom being stressed out is that it means I can't be, so I got to spend the day bottling up my emotions.
That night I got home and started being coaxed back out by a man I was chatting with. He wanted me to come over right then, but I balked a bit. I was tired, and he told me that he was a total top who had only bottomed a few times in his 50 plus years, and none of those times had been very good for him.
He pushed and pushed for me to come while the horny voice in the back of my head reminded me that it has been over two months since I had sex. Eventually I relented and told him I would walk over soon, with the understanding that I was tired and might not be up for more than just meeting and talking.
The talking was great. He had a slight Irish accent, lessened by his years in America, but held by his frequent trips back to Ireland. He told me about his job as a professor at one of the local colleges, which definitely piqued my interest. Those of my readers that have been around for a while will recall that one of my biggest regrets from college is that I never had sex with a professor, so the opportunity was definitely tantalizing.
We actually talked for a very long time. About different things. He was very interested in my classes and what I was doing at grad school. We talked about his past, his job, how he has to have two roommates to be able to live in his nice apartment in a pleasant neighborhood. We bonded over the love of some BBC shows and older films. It was really enjoyable to just talk to him, enjoy the company.
When he finally pulled me down on top of him, it felt like there wasn't much left for us to do but have sex. That isn't to say that the conversation had run out, but more to say that we had hit a point in our comfort with each other where sex was inevitable. And it was fun. He was not a great kisser, but adapted well to what I was doing with my mouth. By the end of my time with him he had gone from sloppy to enjoyable.
The fucking was more gentle and loving than what I am used to. I don't mean to make it sound like I am usually rough (though I certainly can be). But with him I was incredibly gentle, never moving more than and inch or maybe two at a time. When this guy said he was new to bottoming, he wasn't kidding. But he enjoyed it at the same time he grunted in pain. One time I asked him if it hurt and he replied, "I can't tell."
"Your ass is amazing," I said. It was the truth. "Thank you for letting me inside it."
"You are so good at what you do," he said with a shake of his head at one point while I added more lube. "Do I hurt all those guys I top this much?"
"It is always better the second time."
I didn't finish in his ass. It was too tight and I was not getting enough friction or speed to be reaching an orgasm. Instead, I shot all over his face, covering him in ropes of cum. When I finished, I looked down on him and started laughing. "You look like a glazed donut," I said, cracking us both up. It was early in the morning, I was allowed to have my silly moment. He was so impressed with the size of my load that he had me take a picture while we both cracked up, naked in front of his open windows.
With both of us spent, he dropped me back off at my apartment, and that was when the night (or early morning, I guess) took a turn for the worst. But I think that I will end this post with the happy ending of my first fuck since moving to Boston.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
So I once again must send out my apologies for a lack of recent updates. I am currently experiencing a problem with my computer dealing with "unknown networks" and "no valid IP address" being found that is essentially blocking me from getting online. I have spent some time researching the problem and have essentially learned that it is fairly common in the world of Windows PCs and there are multiple fixes being thrown around. As of typing this message (early Saturday morning) I have tried about half of them with no success. All this just makes it more obvious that I will need to eventually make the switch to Apple products when I have the cash.
I am going to keep at it, but for the time being I am giving up. I have a lot to do today, and I can't spend all my time trying to track down issues with my computer or my router or whatever. Somehow the wireless on my phone still works easily, which is what leads me to believe the problem lies either in the computer or the router. I am hoping I don't have to buy a new router, because that would be just one more expense I really can't afford in a long list of horrible expenses. I am hoping that if all my attempts fail, a quick call to my Internet Service Provider will reset my IP address and save the day.
For you techies that read my blog, I opened command prompt and ran ipconfig and saw that my current IP is a 169.254.x.x number, which I understand to be a problem...and also a unreal IP number. I also tried releasing and renewing in ipconfig, but it says it can't contact my DHCP server. I have tried accessing my router, but the numbers you usually type in to do so aren't opening my router functions. It isn't a firewall issue and I do not believe I have a virus (though it is conceivable). Any tech help I can get at this point would be splendid.
Again, sorry that this is happening. Posting from my phone is not fun for me and I am sure it is not fun for any of you. I wish I could solve this problem quicker than I am currently. But right now I am tired and must heave a great "le sigh" and flop into my bed. Hope this gets fixed soon.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
|I am rather fond of my look in this picture.|
|Spread open, chest exposed, nips pierced and hard as rock...|
|Fully zipped. I love how tightly it hugs my body.|
|The back unzips for easy access.|
|Get on your knees and start sucking, boy.|