Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Richest Man in Town

Sorry I've been less present online recently. I've fallen behind in emails, comment responses, and reading other blogs. I'm working to get caught up. This happens every so often when I'm busy, so I apologize.

I don't know if he was actually the richest man in the town, but judging by his nice house and the great cars his kids had, he was definitely one of the top few. One of his kids was in my class, and I had been over to his house a few times at parties. I had also seen him around the school for sporting events or other meetings. He always wore an impeccably tailored suit and looked like he had plenty of free time to focus on how good he looked. He had undoubtedly seen me too, and passed me by much the same I had him.

But when I was face down, ass up on Paul's bed, my hands cuffed behind my back, my face red and my mouth stuffed full of my own underwear, he didn't seem to recognize me. He simply stepped forward and stuck his finger into my recently lubed hole and complement it. He then stepped to the side and began carefully removing his suit, folding it gently over a chair, matching the creases so they wouldn't look rumpled when he put them back on. I was watching him the entire time, wondering if he had any inkling that he was fucking someone who took a science class with one of his kids. He probably thought I was someone from one of the nearby towns. Someone Paul had picked up somewhere. I was worried as I watched him that he would see something he recognized and my secret would be out, but the fear didn't make me scramble to get away. It turned me on.

All my worries flew away when he finally finished stripping off and turned around, giving me a view of that body he always kept hidden in his suits. He was hung, and he had enough muscles to make it clear that the weight room I'd seen in his house did not go unused. And he was semi-hard and growing. I no longer cared if he recognized me or what he thought about me at all. I knew where his cock was going and that was something I could handle. I knew how to get fucked well, and I wasn't going to disappoint.

He stepped behind me, out of my field of vision, and began spanking my ass a bit, poking my hole--kicking the tires in a way. Then he pushed inside to the hilt in one sudden movement. His cock was big, but not nearly the biggest I had taken at the time. And Paul had opened me before. I moaned, though, long and loudly into my briefs as he began pumping me. He just laughed and angled himself to get as much in me as possible. He tugged on my cuffs, using them to lift me or maneuver me when he wanted, all while still pushing as far into me as possible.

When he finally decided to pick up the pace, I began moaning for real. He was good at topping, something I remember thinking every time I saw his kids after that. He had the stamina to keep up a pace and position longer than a lot of guys, and he was giving me at least as much pleasure as I was giving him. He pulled the briefs out of my mouth to hear my moans louder, and I played them up again, though not nearly as much as I had when he first entered me. He would reach under me every so often to jerk my cock off, bringing me close over and over again before I shot my load over his hand and the bed.

After a while I could tell he was getting close too. The pace that had been perfect enough to count music to shifted to something a bit more interesting. He shifted to a position that was easier to hold and pushed my face down into the bed. I could feel his sweat dripping on me and my own was stinging my eyes. I was wishing my hand were free so I could wipe them--something I always wished for when cuffed, as I tend to sweat a lot.

Then he came, pushing in deep again and shuddering on top of me. He stayed in a bit after, making sure I milked every drop from him. But all too soon he was off of me and jumping into Paul's shower. I was still cuffed on the bed when he walked back into my line of sight, dry and smoldering. I watched him carefully put his clothes back on and then he reached into his pocket, pulling a money clip out and counting some bills out. He threw them on the bed at me and walked out of the room.

I waited a bit longer before Paul came in and unlocked the cuffs. While he put them away I counted the money, and it was the most anyone had ever given me for sex. The most I've ever gotten out of one fuck to this day. I was ecstatic as I placed the bills in my jeans and laid back down and let Paul massage me and wipe me with a cloth until it was time for me to go home.

Monday, March 26, 2012

Low Energy

I probably should have known that we weren't going to have a really energetic fuck when he told me that he would call me after his basketball game to let me know he was ready. It isn't impossible to have a high-energy fuck after giving it your all in a sporting event, but it is hard. And I guess it has been way too long since I played or watched basketball, because no warning signs went off.

Not that I have any problems with a slower, gentler session. But after a really stressful and long week, I really wanted to get laid HARD. I wanted to fuck someone fast and relentlessly until I was totally spent.

It wasn't until I was already in his bed that I noticed he was not moving as fast as I was. I felt like I was poking and prodding him along, like I was having to give him more than obvious hints to what I wanted. I quickly got the sense that he was more interested in holding me and being close. Snuggling and kissing and enjoying each other's company. On any other day I might have been good with it, but I was having trouble transitioning to a less aggressive mode.

It wasn't that I was disappointed, but that I had been expecting to unload and explode and then feel like I had run the marathon until I was ready to go home and pass out for a bit. That was what I was after. I wanted the sweet release and then the crash. The perfect way to just black out for a peaceful rest. But fate had decided I was not going to get it.

The sex wasn't terrible once I adjusted myself and my tactics. I had honestly not known what to do with myself at first, but when he took a moment to get up and look for his lube, I took a moment to myself to breathe in and relax. So I wasn't going to get the hard sex I had wanted, that didn't mean I had to be an ass. That didn't mean I couldn't have fun and enjoy myself. When he returned to the bed, I returned with renewed vigor and a determination to make things very fun for both of us.

He had a wonderful preoccupation with my chest hair, which I enjoyed allowing him to play with. I had forgotten my hair tie at home, but he enjoyed me leaving it loose, letting it flop around and get in the way while we rolled around. He even apologized when he snagged it--the last guy who did that suggested the snagging was my fault, because, you know, I had the audacity to grow my hair out in the first place. One time, after I apologized for my hair getting in the way, he grabbed it and pulled it to the back in a pony tail and then let it loose again. "You look much better this way," he said. I have to admit I blushed to hear him say it.

When we finished I held him and he held me under the covers of his bed while we turned the TV on and listened to the rain outside. He was warm and I was cold, so it felt really natural to snuggle close to him. Pressing our hairy bodies together, I felt really good, and I felt totally comfortable. Neither of us was really interested in sleeping, but neither wanted to move for a while either. It was peaceful, and we talked a bit. We talked about what was on TV, about his basketball team, about a number of things, and I was totally comfortable opening up to him.

After I finally pulled myself out of the bed, I went to a movie and then came home. And after that, I enjoyed a quiet night to myself. When I finally got to bed, I slept straight through until late morning and had a slow start to what turned into a very calm day. It may not have been the extreme, sexy fuck I was looking for, but somehow I think it still did the trick. I came away feeling much better than I think I would have if it had just been a fast, hard, anonymous blow and go. Things didn't go as planned, but they went well anyway. And sometimes, that is really enough.

Saturday, March 24, 2012


Hi everyone! I'm making an unusual Saturday post (unusual for my current posting schedule, at least) to talk about a couple of milestones I have coming up soon.

The first--I assume it will come first--is hitting my first 100,000 page views! I know that may not seem like a lot compared to some other blogs that regularly get thousands of views a day, but it is well beyond what I ever expected to achieve when I first started my little blog in this corner of the internet. I know I have a core group of frequent readers and commentors to thank for a lot of those views, but I also know that there are readers out there I don't know about, so thank you all as well.

The second upcoming milestone is a little under two months away, but I figured I would mention it now as well: My one year blog anniversary! That's right, May 15th will be a year after my first ever post, and May 16th will be a year after my first sex post. I can hardly believe I've been keeping this blog up for so long. I had very limited expectations of myself, but I've done it (in spite of some hardships) and I'm very proud of that fact.

Now, these coming milestones leave me to wonder what I should do to celebrate them. I want to do something that will excite and involve my readers as well as gratify my own enjoyment of the blogging experience. But how to do that? I've thought that I might plan a give-away, or make a special post commemorating the dates, or some other fun thing that my readers might enjoy.

So now I'm giving you guys the opportunity to let me know what you think. Does anyone have any suggestions for something I should do for either (or both) of these events? Let me know in a comment or an email, and I will probably announce the one I choose as the event draws closer.

I'm looking forward to hearing your creative or sexy or creatively sexy ideas. Of course, if no one comes up with anything, I'll be forced to think of something myself, and I'm lazy, so please don't make me do that!

As always, I'm grateful for every single one of my readers and am looking forward to sharing these benchmark moments with you all.


Friday, March 23, 2012

My First Orgy Part 3: Threesome

This is the third and final part of my recounting my first orgy (parts one and two can be found at the links). I know some of you will be sad to see it ending, but rest assured, I was sad that it ended too! On the other hand, I'm sure some of you have been waiting eagerly for this. I apologize for the lateness, but the start of my week was a bit crazy and I needed some rest. When I last left you, I was dejected by a man doing his best to molest me, and had thrown most of my clothes on to leave...

I could hear the hot bottom guy moaning as the man who had tried to shove his way into my ass was getting a blow job. I was more interested in what was going on at the other side, though, as I watched the sexy man I'd bumped into earlier fingering the bottom's hole wider and wider. By the time I had all my clothes on and was stalling by checking my phone, he had all his fingers in and was moving his hand in, but wasn't getting in very far.

Fisting. It had been way too long since I had fisted a guy (the last time was over a year and a half ago) so I decided to stay and watch this play out. My annoying would-be fucker eventually shot his load and came around to watch too. Not much more progress had been made, however, and the bottom eventually pulled off a bit.

"Let me see," I said, as the man who had been opening him moved up the get blown.

The hole was clearly stretched, but not bulging out as can happen. It was actually still very tight, if not wet with cum and lube. I began fingering, but soon I was pushing more and more of my hand inside of him. I was all the way in, and pushing deep, deep up inside, feeling the velvet caress of his hole throbbing and wrapping around me. I made my fist, and announced to the other two men that I was fully fisting him. Then I started opening and closing my hand inside his hole. The bottom moaned his delight, took a hit of poppers, and started to ride my arm before one of us caused too much sensation and he pulled my hand out.

Things seemed to have wound down a bit. In the room it was just me, the bottom, and the sexy daddy (the molester guy was in the bathroom cleaning off). I started massaging the bottom, softly praising him for how good he had been as our bottom, thanking him for being so open. Thanking him for coming, really. The sexy daddy helped a bit, but it was really me doing most of the rubbing, and me making him groan in pleasure. I started taking my clothes off again. When I was naked, I pulled myself up the bottom's body and began rubbing him with my entire body, my cock getting hard again at the sensation.

I realized that I was going to fuck again, and knew that with the molester guy in the shower, now was the best time to do it and not have problems. I quickly pushed in and noticed that his hole had already started to close up. I did get the sexy daddy to stick his fingers in along with my cock, which was very pleasant, but not needed to make the hole tight. I came shortly, still thinking that I was close to leaving, and began massaging the bottom again, before pulling out and laying down beside him. We kissed and enjoyed rubbing each other, and I felt wonderful.

"Do you guys want to be alone?" the sexy daddy asked. I assured him that he was perfectly welcome to join in, and he slipped over to the other side of the bottom, allowing the two of us to sandwich him and hold each other as well.

Eventually the annoying guy got dressed and left, kissing us all good-bye. I hardly gave him the time, though. When he left and was clearly out of the door, I spoke up, "Can I just say that I really don't like that guy?" We all had a moment of agreement and rested again, all tired but not wanting to leave just then.

After a while I got up to piss and grabbed a wash cloth that hadn't been used yet, and soaked it in hot water. I went back to the bed and began wiping down the other two while they rested, hearing them both appreciate my efforts. Of course, this eventually led to more touching, more kissing, and renewed hard cocks, and we tangled ourselves up in a wonderful threesome.

This time I got to fuck the sexy daddy as well. His hole was tight, but it bloomed open for me, clean and tidy. I don't know if the guy had planned to get fucked, but he was taking my pounding like a champ. He was telling me that my cock was perfect, that it was made to fuck. I didn't say it out loud, but I agreed with what he was telling me; my cock is pretty great for fucking. I did, however, tell him that his ass was made to take cock, my cock especially. I told him that he belonged below me, as my bottom, taking what I gave him.

I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to come a fifth time, but I was still able to keep hard, so I fucked the super bottom again as well, his ass back to being very tight, but still supremely fuckable. Then he asked if the daddy and I could double penetrate him. I was unsure, my DP sessions have historically not been that pleasant for me, but I went with it, figuring I could pull out if I needed to stop. The daddy was on bottom and I slipped my cock in alongside his. It was clear from their moans that they were both enjoying it a lot more than I was, though I was still feeling pretty good inside that hole. Eventually, however, we hit a snag where the combined weight of two bodies plus a poorly timed popper hit made the sexy daddy have some trouble breathing.

We got off and the daddy pushed into the bottoms ass and I came up behind him, completing the train. We fucked like that for a while before I shifted my angle, fucking the daddy at a right angle so that from above our bodies would have made a cross. I think it was about this time that he came again, and his cock fell out of the bottom. Soon I was fucking him across the bed with my hard thrusts and I felt that I was getting close. Finally I shot my fifth load into his ass and got off him.

I was still hard (I know, I was amazed too, though I had been saving myself for that night) and plunged back into the bottom one last time and worked myself up to a final, if lackluster, orgasm. Once again, the three of us were beat. I grabbed the wash cloth, washed us all off, and we lay down together, enjoying the warmth of our shared bodies and wondering if we would get kicked out or not (we'd stayed a full half hour over the listed end of the orgy).

Eventually we got up and one-by-one showered. The sexy daddy went first while the bottom and I talked, swapped names, and then he wrapped himself around me from behind, licking my ear, using his tongue to drive me absolutely wild. I was moaning and feeling amazing when the sexy daddy walked out of the bathroom to find his stuff. He wrote down a way to contact him for me and then got dressed while I jumped into the shower. When I got out, he kissed me good-bye and I promised I'd contact him. When I got out of the shower, the bottom and I swapped emails as well, and then I dressed and said my good-bye and left.

As I walked out the door I said a quick "thank you" to the man who had hosted the orgy. I am reasonably sure that he never stepped a single foot inside the room the entire time I was there, instead staying out on his computer by the TV. As I left he gave me a strange, appraising look, and I wasn't sure I was getting a good vibe from him. Maybe it was the lighting, but I had a strange feeling he wasn't entirely happy. But I didn't really care. I was happy and that was all that mattered to me.

I was starving, my stomach reminding me that I'd eaten very little that day, so I stopped at a nearby Burger King and downed a chicken sandwich before heading home. I spent my entire ride back marveling at how well everything had turned out, and sure that I would have plenty more orgies to enjoy in the future.

Monday, March 19, 2012

My First Orgy Part 2: Things Get A Little Bad

This is a continuation of my post about my first orgy which happened last Thursday. You can find the first post here. As much as I would love to cover every moment of the night, unfortunately that would take too long, and as it is, I have one more post to make about this night. So if things seem to jump around, I apologize.

After fucking the runner for what felt like a very long and pleasureful time, I sat on the bed for a moment, surveying how the dynamic in the room had changed. Men had been coming and going the entire time I was there, and I was pretty sure that I was the longest person there at the moment. I could feel my cock was sticky and a bit gross and I was dripping sweat into my eyes, so I followed the runner into the bathroom to wash myself off before joining back in.While in there he thanked me again for the thorough fucking I had given him, and asked me if I had been to one of these orgies before. I said no, though I didn't let on that I had never been to ANY orgy before. He gave me some information about a guy who hosts orgies much more frequently and usually has a better turn out. I haven't gone looking yet, but it is definitely something I'm interested in. Especially if I get to hook up with that runner again.

After I wiped myself off, I left him to get dressed and started walking back into the room. I bumped into a guy who had just come in, still wearing some trunks and a shirt that had "Wrestle Me" written on the back of it in bold, black letters. He came me a quick up and down in the light coming from the open bathroom door and asked, "You aren't leaving, are you?"

"No," I replied, "Just taking a little break." I watched him undress before I walked over to the bed where a man was sitting and facing me. My cock was still hard, but not ready for much more action yet, and he wasn't that good at giving blow jobs anyway. I discovered that the ratio of good cock suckers to total men in the room was rather low, which was unfortunate, but also meant that I got more cock in my mouth than most other guys there, which I did not have a problem with.

I got on my knees to suck him off so that I could have a reasonable excuse for him to not be sucking on mine. Apparently I did a good job of it too, because within a few minutes of me going down on him, he was asking if I would take his load. I just moaned and kept sucking and in moments he was filling my mouth up with a respectable load. Enough that I had to swallow a few times. After I finished he pointed my head to another man sitting and watching us. "Looks like you've got another over there."

It was like that for a while, most men sucking and getting sucked. I was part of a large knot on the bed, taking loads as they came and I fired off two more of my own. I was still feeling hands all over my body the way I had before, but some of them were more insistent. Every so often a finger would find it's way to my hole. A guy would moan. I would hear, "You have a hot hole." Then the finger would try to enter, and I would swat it away. I also had a few questions about if I would bottom. I replied that no, I would not bottom. Most guys got the hint.

One troll, however, did not get the hint. Not from me, and not from a few of the other total tops in the room.

We were around a guy who was doing a great job of bottoming. He would frequently pull some poppers out of his kneepads and draw from them. Other than that, he didn't make much of a sound while he was passed around. I was waiting for my turn to try his hole while the guy I had bumped into coming out of the bathroom was currently deep inside. Another man was doing a passable job at sucking me off ("To get you nice and ready for that hole," he said). The troll kept trying to finger us all. We generally ignored him. After all, there was a perfectly good bottom right there. Why was he trying to fuck the tops?

I was trying not to let it bother me too much. I didn't want it to ruin my mood or the orgy. But when I moved to the bottom's mouth, the troll slid up beside me, his hand running to my ass crack. "Does that feel good?" he asked.

"Not really," I replied. "I'm not a bottom."

"I know," he said, "But it still feels good, right?"

"You want to make me feel good, then keep it outside the hole."

Finally it was my turn to fuck the bottom. His hole was wet with cum and I felched a bit out of him before lining up and pushing in to his puffy hole. I got into a good rhythm and was getting some nice moans out of the bottom when suddenly I felt the troll's invading hand again. He had just been told off by another guy, but had moved back to me. This time he was much more aggressive. I shoved his finger right into my hole, and it hurt, and I wasn't happy.

I told him to back off and moved to get blown again, but he came with me. "You gonna let me fuck that amazing hole of yours?" he asked.

"No. I don't get fucked."

The next thing I knew he had a bottle of poppers in my face, practically in my mouth, and he said to me, "Take a hit of this and it will change your mind." At the same time he pushed not one, but two fingers into my hole, as if to prove that I was open enough for him.

I roughly pushed his hand away and gave my loudest, most firm "No." I didn't care that his poppers probably spilled. I didn't care that I was in the middle of a great blow job. I decided that was it. I had already shot my load three times. I was good. I could leave for the night. With a little regret I got off the bed and went back into the bathroom to wash off again. I watched the guy I had bumped into fingering the bottom's hole open wider and wider as I dressed. I even slowed down so that I could watch. But as I tied my shoes and grabbed my coat, I had every intention of leaving for the night.

I didn't leave though, and I'm glad I didn't. Things were about to get a lot better for me.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Formspring and Sleep Deprevation

Wow. It has been a while since I posted a Formspring blog post, so I guess it is time for one. I've just been having a lot going on in my life recently, keeping me busy and sadly away from hook-ups. Among other problems.

For example, it has been well over a week, if not past a week and a half, since I was last able to get a good night of sleep. It seems that, no matter how tired I am when I get home, no matter how quickly I find myself falling asleep on the couch, when I set myself down to sleep in bed, I'm suddenly wide awake. Even after the orgy on Thursday, when I was physically, emotionally, and mentally tired to the bone, I still watched the hours tick by on my alarm clock. Friday night into yesterday morning was the worst, by far. I actually watched 6:30am come and go before I finally drifted off.

I have no idea what is causing it, but I suspect that it is stress-related, at least in some small way. The worst part is that I'm too tired during the day to do the things I need to do, so I get even more stressed out when the night rolls around. I'm hoping for a break soon, but who knows if I will get it. I did spend all yesterday relaxing, ignoring the calling of my Irish heritage to go out and drink myself stupid, so maybe that helped cut down my stress. We'll see. I'm working two extra days this week, so I'll either get myself reset, or I'll die. Either way, I'll let you know.

Enough griping about the problems of my life, and on to the questions you've asked! As always, you can ask me anything on my Formspring page, or send me an email asking any questions you have. I love answering them, and I believe it gives me a chance to show a side of my life that doesn't always come out in the blog. I look forward to answering your questions in the future.

What's one new thing you want to try -- sexual or other -- in 2012?

I would love to find myself somewhere with a sling so that I don't have to keep saying that I've not only never fucked a guy in a sling, but I've never even been in the same room as one. Unless you count a sex shop where one was on display.

Are you a fan of Tim Tebow?

Not really. I think he is an ok player and didn't really do a whole lot to live up to the hype that was built around him early this past season. Plus, I hate his voice. Every time he opens his mouth I just can't listen.     

Do you think Tim Tebow is gay?

No. I definitely do not. And I'm not even really sure why anyone else would, besides that form of cognitive dissonance that some guys have where they think any man they find attractive must be in some way gay.

If you're in a relationship, do you fuck around with other guys? Does your partner know?

I've hidden my playing around on the side before, but these days I make it pretty clear before I start a new relationship that I will probably be with others too. I figure honesty is the best pollicy in these situations.     

What's one goal you've set for yourself in 2012?

I would love to do something fun for myself, just for me, and something that I can be proud of. I would like to remind myself of what I am capable of when I'm dedicated.

When you are having sex, how important is kissing?

Kissing is usually really important to me. I love to kiss. I'm good at kissing and I love other good kissers. If someone sucks at it, I can go without, but if they try to keep kissing, I might say something. Of course, in pump-n-dump or gloryhole situations I usually don't kiss.     

On average, how often do you have sex? ( Not including solo masturbation)

Used to be a lot more than it has been recently. I'm not the kind of person who has sex every day, especially if I have work and school. But when I have time, I enjoy spending it having sex.     

Friday, March 16, 2012

My First Orgy Part 1: Center of Attention

I felt a little unsure as I entered the elevator with a group of women and another man. I knew I had the hotel right. I knew I had the floor right. I knew I had the room right. I was reasonably sure that the other man in the elevator was going the same place as me. I had left most of my valuables at home, but had brought some emergency transport money just in case something happened. I had planned for the worst, but was unsure about hoping for the best. Unsure about what to hope for, exactly.

I stood for a moment outside the door to the room, building up the courage I felt I would need. My first orgy. It was being organized by the same man who, this past summer, cancelled what I was hoping would be my first. When I got the invite earlier this week, I wasn't sure if it was worth it. Would everything work out? Would no one show up? And then Boston's Back Bay had a blackout and I wondered if we would be cancelled again, since the hotel was in the Back Bay area, right near where some of the serious issues with the blackout had been.

I knocked on the door and it opened for me, just a crack. I was ushered inside with a "hurry up" motion that I almost laughed at--the same motion a third base coach would use if he wanted you to round for home. But I got inside and was given a short, scrutinizing up and down by the large, black man hosting the party. As he took the $10 from me, I guess he decided that he liked what he saw because he smiled and said, "Hey, Shaggy," referencing my hair.

I finally laughed, suddenly I felt much less tense. I didn't have anything to worry about, I was in my prime. There are some things I do well, and breaking the ice before fucking is one of them. I feel perfectly comfortable knowing I'm about to get naked in front of a perfect stranger. I can easily make the first move.

But he thought I was laughing at him. "You've got the hair for it," he said.

"You're not the first person to call me 'Shaggy.'"

I stood with another guy around my age and Latino in the outer room before we both wandered through the closed door to the back where people were already engaged with each other.

There were five people besides the Latino and myself already in the room. Three on the bed and two sitting in chairs watching. One of the bed guys was getting fucked by an older, larger man, and the other was at the head of the bed, jerking off.

The party was supposed to be a blackout party, but I could see everything as if it were dim twilight. My eyes adjusted well and I was able to make out most everyone's features, even with my glasses off. I decided to get naked as quickly as my growing cock would let me and move over to where the action was. I was conscious of all eyes on me as I walked up to the couple fucking, even though I thought that the Latino I had entered with was much more attractive. The top quickly reached over and started to jerk my cock, but it was abundantly clear that the bottom was not interested in anyone but the top currently fucking him. He even ignored an offer to suck a cock and never got fucked by another man the entire time he was there.

I moved up to where the Latino was laying on the bed, still in his jeans, working his cock up to a nice, thick hardness. He was clearly unimpressed by the older, out of shape men that were in the room, which confused me for a bit. After all, what is the point of going to an orgy if you're going to be picky? He and I started fooling around, trading off blow jobs, and that seemed to break things up for the other guys just sitting and watching the fuckers.

Before I knew what was happening, everybody was crowding around me on the bed, running their hands through my chest hair, grabbing my cock, putting their lips where they could. I was offered up more cocks to suck than I had in a long time, and I traded off from one to the next and the next as often as I could. People were making it clear that I was the preferred cock sucker in the room, and their loud moans and grunts attracted the men still arriving in my direction. Soon the room had more than ten guys in it, and many of them were either around me or near enough to touch. I had guys whispering how hot I was, getting in close to watch me work, sucking me off two at a time. When I had tried to imagine what the orgy would be like, I certainly hadn't imagined this.

All too soon the Latino was shooting his load in my mouth and then dressing to leave. Another man shot his load too. But more men were coming in even as others left. One in particular struck my fancy, walking in wearing running tights and an athletic top with "Boston Marathon 2011" written on it. He was a hot older man and I immediately wanted him. He made a circuit of the room before finally getting over to me, first sucking me and then letting me suck him. While I gave him an expert blow job, I fingered his ass, first dry, and then with some spit. He was opening up for me and really enjoying riding my fingers. I got two and then three in before I kissed him hard on the lips and asked, "Want to get fucked?"

To say he sprung into action would be an understatement. In no time he had his ass and my cock lubed and assumed a doggy position. I looked around the room as I pushed in, and once again, all eyes were on me. The only other people fucking so far were the two who had been fucking when I showed up. But they were fucking slow and easy. I attacked this man's hole. I used his cries to get more attention to me. The men watching started saying things like, "Fuck yes!" and "Pound that hole!" while I did my best to comply.

I was fucking my runner bottom so hard that I was pushing him off the edge of the bed. The other fucking couple had disengaged and the top left, so the bottom, still not taking any other offers, was sitting in the chair by the bed. He soon found himself a support for my runner as I fucked his torso over the side and to the floor. With our bodies so close to the edge, we soon had men all around us, touching us, slapping my ass, rubbing their fingers in my crack, feeling me enter my bottom. We were both drenched in sweat now, and the guys around us began calling for me to shoot my load. But I was nowhere near done.

I pulled him back onto the bed after a severe round of fucking, and he flipped over onto his back, easily folding in half, his knees pressed to his chest. I started fucking him hard again, hoping that this new position would help me get closer to my first cum of the night. I started building and building, helped along by the mouths and hands of the men watching. I felt the first tingles when my bottom turned to the clock and said, "I have to leave soon."

I was a bit shocked out of my rhythm, first because he had taken the time to stop moaning like an animal to say that and second because he had only been there for maybe thirty minutes, and only getting fucked by me for maybe fifteen. "How soon do you have to leave?" I asked.

"I should be leaving now."

I decided he wasn't getting away until he finished what he started. "I'm not done with you yet."

I wrapped my arms around his crumpled, small frame and effectively held him in place while I resumed fucking him with long, fast strokes. He wasn't making any moves to get away, but I could tell my aggression was turning him on as much as it was turning me on. After just a few more minutes of relentlessly fucking his hole, I finally shot my first load of the night. The men around me cheered me on, and it felt a little bit like when I was younger and taking loads in a bathroom or outside or on Paul's bed. The men back then would cheer me on too, and cheer for the guys loading me up.

As I slipped out of my runner bottom, letting him get up to clean off, I rolled over, jerking my still-hard cock, and looked at the men around me. The smile on my face clearly asking, "Who wants it next?"

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Early Beginnings: Underwear

This is a post in the on-going but under-used "Early Beginnings" series. Click the link to see the other posts in the series.

When men or women ask me about fetishes I have, some of them are surprised to see "underwear" show up on my list. Some people don't really know what an underwear fetish is. I've been asked, "So do you, like, have sex with underwear then?" Not quite. How I define my underwear fetish is the way that I can get turned on by putting on a pair of underwear (or a jock--I count jocks as well) and the way a guy in a pair of tight undies can turn me on more than a guy standing in front of me naked and hard. And the arousal is different too. It feels different. For most people who have sex with me, it simply means that there is a longer period of time between the pants coming off and then the underwear coming off, and I may suck a guy through his boxer-briefs, if we both like it. But for other people with a similar fetish, it can mean one or both of us leaves our underwear of choice on the entire time during sex.

Out of all the various kinky and fetish-related things I do, this one might be the one I noticed and knew about first, though early on I didn't know what to call it or think about it.

I've mentioned before on this blog that I'm really not a fan of boxers. I don't like how they bunch up, I don't like how they feel, and I don't like how they look. Especially on me. I've also mentioned that when I was younger, it was pretty much all briefs, all the time for me. I had the white, FTL or Hanes variety, and that was it. For the longest time I didn't even know there were other kinds. When I was younger, I didn't shop for myself (obviously), and I hardly ever went with my parents to buy me clothes, unless I had recently outgrown some of my older stuff and needed to try things on. So I just had underwear in my drawer that my parents had bought me and that was it.

I don't remember exactly when it happened, it was so long ago, but there was a time when I did start to accompany my parents to shop for clothes. At first, I dreaded it. But I had grown to the point where I could shop in the adult clothing section (I grew fast), and that was when I discovered the pictures on the bags of underwear my parents were buying for me. Attractive men in nothing but a pair of white jockeys were staring up at me as I helped my mother carry things to the register, and I couldn't stop looking. Every time I did look, I got a sensation in my groin, I had an urge to jerk off to the pictures. I would get home, and under the pretense of putting my new clothes away, put on the underwear and pretend that I looked like the man in the picture. Then I would jerk off imagining the man in the picture.

Around this same time I started noticing what other guys were wearing for underwear. I was taking swim lessons (not yet old enough to join a swim team, but getting there) and in the locker room I would try to check out other guys, both the boys in my class with me and the older men changing. For the most part I wasn't quite able to get a good look. I was one of the older kids and those who hung around and didn't hide their changing with a towel generally all wore white briefs like I did.

But then one day I was talking with a boy who was in the same level as I was, but seemed to be at least a year younger than me, though he could have just been a late bloomer. While I was talking to him, he pulled out a pair of briefs. But these were different. They were colored. And I was floored. I may have let my eyes stay down a bit too long, but if he noticed, he didn't tell. I wanted to ask him where he got them, or why they were colored, or a whole manner of other questions. But I got the sense that I shouldn't ask things like that. Still, I was intrigued, and the memory didn't go away. Every time I looked in my drawer at the neatly folded white pairs, I would wish I had something more exciting. Something colored.

The next time I was at the store, I drifted away from my mom, which was not that unusual when shopping, and found my way to the underwear isle. It was like I had stumbled into a new world. There were briefs of ever color and pattern, there were bikinis, there were boxer briefs, there were pairs so small that the men on the cover may as well have been naked. And I was in heaven. I wanted, more than anything, to have all those different, colored pairs. I wanted to walk around the house in just them. Stand by the sink like the guy on one cover. Or be outside on some rocks in the desert like another. I would look and feels sexy, and I wanted to feel that way.

I started noticing underwear more and more, sneaking into lockers to see what guys were wearing. Fantasizing about men I saw in the locker room. Going through the drawers in my dad's dresser where he kept a lot of his porn and sexy underwear (which is an entirely different post) and trying on the thin pieces of cloth he had there, looking at the thongs and studded pouches advertised in the back of his Penthouses and other magazines. I even used a sewing kit to tailor a jock strap pouch just a bit tighter so I could feel like I was wearing something more like the sexy ones I have now, instead of the big, athletic pouches I had for baseball.

This was all very early on for me, back before I was twelve. I got much more into underwear later on, but those are stories for other posts.

Monday, March 12, 2012

Technology and Ace

It is entirely possible that technology hates me.

I'm not bad with technology, I'm actually quite fond of it. I would never claim to be on the cutting edge of technology, but when I was a Freshman in high school, some friends of mine and I all taught ourselves HTML and CSS and a little Java and started making our own web sites. Just for fun. We thought it was cool and entertaining and something to do when we were supposed to be doing homework. I sort of lost interest after a time and scrapped the whole project. But to this day, I keep fairly up-to-date on different tech things.

Recently, however, it seems like technology is out to get me. And the frequency of technological blips in the past few days has made me stop and wonder.

The first noticeable moment was when my blog post had trouble going up on Friday. I had to fight with Blogger for at least an hour (though it might have been more, and I certainly wasn't working at it the whole time) just to get it posted. For some reason I would click "Publish" and the blog would show up on my list of posts, but it was nowhere on my blog page. And when I tried to type in the address manually, it claimed there was no such page. Aggravating, to say the least. But eventually the problem was solved and I got things back on track.

But even at work things were on the fritz around me, and I didn't have any idea why that was. It was never anything major, just minor blips that caused problems or made something go a bit slower for me. Was it the full moon? Was it because I was stressed out at the end of a long week? Was it because I was tired but still had to work Saturday? Or did it have anything to do with me at all? I couldn't tell.

On Saturday things seemed to be going better. I bought a ticket online in the morning that didn't get sent to my email like it was supposed to, but the confirmation number was sent, so I felt secure as I went to work. Then, that night, while I was taking myself out for dinner and a movie (a new thing I'm starting with myself if I have a night off on the weekend; a solo date night), the movie didn't start until about twenty minutes after it was supposed to, and once it did finally start, the previews were all jumbled and skipped like a scratched DVD. When the movie proper started, everything was fine, but it was still annoying. I worried through the whole film if the subways would still be running when I got out. Luckily I was still able to catch one at about 1:15am, which I had not expected.

Then, yesterday, I had another fight with Blogger. This time, I was having trouble even getting a new post to open. I was tired from losing an hour the night before and didn't work on it for very long before just giving up. I apologize, I realize that I've now missed two Formspring posts in a row, but I was really in no mood to be fucking around with snippy technology. Then, last night, around a quarter after nine, I noticed that my phone's clock seemed to be wrong. By which I mean, it was three hours behind, telling me it was roughly a quarter past six. I hadn't ventured to the West Coast, so I knew there was something up with my phone. The strangest part was, when I looked at the world clocks widget, it knew that it was after nine in the Eastern Time Zone, and it knew I was in the Eastern Time Zone. Yet it was still wrong.

And even while I was typing this post up, I was suddenly logged out of all things related to my Google account on all tabs in my browser. Email, chat, Blogger, other people's blogs, YouTube, you name it. I had to log back in and pray that my draft had been saved. I was fortunate, but I'm thinking that maybe I need to give technology some space for a while. Before I accidentally blow up my computer or something.

Friday, March 9, 2012


The first time I saw his ass I was belaying him as he climbed a rock wall. There was a hole in the seat of the jeans he was wearing, and when he shifted in just the right way with his boxers hiking up, I could see an entire cheek and a glimpse of the furry crack. His thighs were powerful as he pushed his way up the wall, spidering out at incredible angles that seemed insane to me. He was a very skilled climber and and loved watching him work his way up the wall almost as much as I enjoyed watching for those flashes of ass as he climbed higher and higher away from me.

I was not as skilled at climbing as him, but he graciously belayed for me on an easier course in return. He was one of the most supportive belayers I'd had, encouraging me to keep pushing, calling out where the next hand or foot hold was. We got along amazingly well for people who had just met and had almost nothing in common other than a love of the athletic workout that rock climbing gave us. I hadn't even gotten his name yet, but halfway up the wall I realized that I was starting to crush on this built and masculine man.

The rock wall was at a college not too far away from my own, but far enough away that the trip involved carpooling and planning on the part of all of us involved. The rock climbing club at my college was small, but fun and we all got along well, and the car trips were not a problem. What was a problem was we were never assured on any given trip of even numbers. Being the odd man out can be annoying when climbing, as it is a two person sport, but that day it was working out for me. There was a group of students from the college climbing with us, and they had an odd man too. I just happened to be standing in the right place at the right time when he needed to be belayed. I obliged, and suddenly I had a climbing partner who pushed me more than I pushed myself, and who was helpful enough to give me tips on what was actually a very challenging wall, even at the easiest part.

I think it was his smile that I liked the most. It was part goofy grin, part something a bit more. He was handsome in a way that isn't traditionally handsome. His face wasn't square, he wasn't a model. But he was earnest, and when he smiled at me I always felt like it was me making him smile. He wasn't being polite, I was actually entertaining him.

We ended up as default partners that night, and even after both of us were totally sore in our arms and legs, and dying the rip our climbing shoes off, we sat and talked with each other. What about, I don't recall, but it was the kind of general, good-natured conversation that you usually have with people while working out. I imagine we groan about school a bit and talked about television, probably about climbing and other forms of exercise. I knew other people at that college, but it was a bigger one, and he wasn't familiar with any of them. That sort of thing. Still, I found myself unable to stop talking to him. Almost to the point where I was ignoring the friends I had come with.

We both walked to the locker room together to shower and change. The locker room at this college, as I had already discovered from a previous, more successful visit, was below ground and rather cavernous. He let me stash my stuff in his locker while we showered, as I didn't have a locker there, and we continued talking while soaping up. The whole time I was sneaking glances at his crotch and ass. His cock was pretty normal and stayed flaccid the whole time. His ass was perky and rounded and tight with the workout he had just given those muscles. I kept wondering if there was a way I could approach him, a way I could get him to spread those cheeks and let me lick his hole for everything it was worth, but he was totally oblivious to the show he was putting on. He gave every sign of being very straight. So I resigned myself to just being a watcher.

I changed and left, promising to let him know when I would be coming back to the wall again. But unfortunately with the way my senior year ended (I was busy), I only went back two more times, and neither time were we able to connect. Climbing that wall certainly didn't feel the same without my climber eye-candy helping me along. All I have is my memories, but I don't mean that in a sad way. I can easily close my eyes and perfectly picture his ass peaking out at me from that hole in his jeans, or him wet from the shower with soap on his body, of that smile. And honestly, if that is all I get to remember him by, that is certainly enough.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Strange Lies

I'm not a stranger to the lies that we sometimes tell to get sex. When I was younger I definitely lost my virginity a lot more often than is physically possible. I also lied about my age depending on the situation I was in (like saying I was 18 when I clearly wasn't). These days, however, I'm pretty much straight forward when I'm talking about myself. Some people question that I'm so experienced for my age, but honestly, I've been legal to have sex for four and a half years now. It isn't unreasonable that in that time I've been around a lot. And most guys aren't surprised to learn that I was having sex before I turned 18. I don't think many people live in a world where underage sex and exploration in high school are totally unheard of. So I've stopped hiding that much of myself from people.

I also don't lie about weight, size, height, or any other physical aspects. I don't use pictures that are from years ago, and I don't talk about doing things that I've never done. For them most part, guys online really appreciate my candor and I find that it helps me get more hook-ups and more repeats than I would otherwise. I really just don't see any reason to lie anyway. Most guys find my maturity and my experience to be a good thing. It means that I'm not some new twink off the bus who needs to be guided through everything and emotionally held at every stop on the way. There's nothing wrong with that, but when guys want a quick hook up or are twice my age, they are usually looking for someone a little bit more stable. And there's nothing wrong with that either. There are plenty of guys who would be happy to guide a virgin in his twenties, but my profiles and conversations make me more attractive to the guys who are looking for something different.

So it has been a while since I had to lie to someone.

Recently, however, a lot of the guys I talk to online have been a bit, well, intimidated by my level of experience. These are men in their thirties and forties who have trouble with the fact that a younger guy may have been with more men than they have. Or have tried more things in bed than they have. Or get a bit more kinky than they do. I don't mind and I don't judge. One of the first things I always say to people who are chatting with me is that I go from mild to wild, depending on the guy. I'm just as good at cuddling and slow, sensual sex as I am at face-paced pounding. It is all about the individual experience for me.

But for some guys I've been talking to recently, that's not reassuring enough. They seem to think that, because I'm so experienced on the more aggressive end of sex, that I won't be content with just their regular, vanilla sex. And, to a certain extent, they're right. I would not be content with just vanilla sex for the rest of my life, same way I wouldn't be content with only BDSM the rest of my life. I need a healthy mix. But, for all intents and purposes, with that one person, that one time, I would be perfectly fine to just slowly explore their body and gently do what it is I love to do.

Apparently that isn't good enough for them. I found myself, in the midst of the conversation, reverting to the old habit of lying about my experience. Obviously I didn't try to claim that I was still a virgin flower needing to be plucked, but I did end up downplaying my level of experience. "I haven't been with THAT many guys," I wrote at one point. At another I said, "Well, that's just something I'm interested in, I haven't done much with leather besides one or two trips to the bar." Both of those are lies. They aren't horrible lies that I should be ashamed of, and I am sure someone else online was telling lies much worse while I was giving my little white ones. But it still made me stop and think about what I was doing.

Why was I telling these strange half-lies? What exactly was behind me covering up a past that I've chosen not to regret? After all, don't I talk about it here in my blog often? My experiences are hardly hidden online, and anyone who asks when I'm chatting with them will get an honest (if not abbreviated) answer. I don't shout my experiences from the roof tops, and I don't talk about my slutty bottom years with all my friends, but if someone finds out or the topic comes up, I usually don't balk or shy away. What was making me do it in this case? Sure, I was horny and wanted to hook up, and sure, I was stuck in a string of these guys who seemed to not know what to do with my forwardness, but should that mean I lie about my desires and my past?

How much of ourselves are we willing to deny just to get laid? I used to think that, in my case, it was very little. But how different am I than those guys who post fake pictures or lie about age and weight? After all, they're probably just reacting to a long string of guys rejecting them, the same way I was.

I think the lesson we all need to learn is not to take rejection to heart, but not to reflect it back either. It is so easy to misrepresent ourselves online these days, that it almost isn't a conscious choice. But I am a firm believer that, no matter your body type, there is someone out there looking for you. And I know there are people out there looking for a sometimes soft, sometimes dirty, hairy guy like me. So why change myself or lie to fit the standards of a few guys that reject me? I should spend that time looking for the guy that will want me, right?

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Enjoying Life

I'm not doing my usual weekly Formspring post, though I do still want you all to send me more questions. I am going to keep today's post short because I have family obligations today that I need to get ready for. I did, however, want to mention that I have been on a bit of a loving myself kick recently and enjoying my life immensely because of it.

Yesterday I decided to do something fun for myself, since I had the time, so I went to the leather night at the bar again. I had a total blast, starting with watching the end of the second Pirates of the Caribbean movie on the TVs there (lame, I know). Soon after I met a few people I knew, got to talking, and started breaking out of my shell again. It can be very freeing to be at a place where people don't really care what you do or what you're into as long as you're not making a scene out of it. Plus there were tons of hot guys in leather that I got to meet and even make out with, so that was a huge plus.

I even got to meet International Mr. Deaf Leather and try out my (very) rusty sign language skills with him. It was an experience I would not give up for the world, and I'm incredible happy I did it. And as embarrassing as it was to realize that I couldn't spell properly, he and I had a really fun chat about his interest in fisting, which came about because I tried signing to him and he noticed that I have small hands for someone my height (I assured him they are the only parts that are small).

The night ended with me having my first glove-over-mouth experience, which I did not even really know was a thing. My friend who first got me to go to the bar noticed I was enjoying rubbing my face all over his leather and kindly covered my mouth and nose with it. He wasn't cutting off my air, but the effect was amazing. I was inhaling the scent of the gloves he had been wearing all night and I became very aroused. He turned me around so he was behind me, wrapping the glove around me, and it was all I could to to not grab on and drag him to the floor with me. I eventually jerked off twice once I was home remembering it. Even now, while writing about it, I'm starting to get hard.

I've decided make more time to enjoy my life and get out and have fun. I mean, look at what happens when I do. I'm not saying I'll get horny over every outing I take, but if I keep taking opportunities for fun instead of passing them up, I'm sure to come up with more.

Friday, March 2, 2012

Ace Candy: The Return

It has been entirely too long since I posted some Ace Candy, and for that, I apologize. But I recently saved a lot of pictures to my computer, and there were some of me that weren't completely crap. Trust me, there are some pictures currently on my computer that make me look like I'm drugged or sleepy or both. Pretty sure that's an honest opinion and not my self-image issues talking. But at least a few of them made the cut.

Here are some that I took when my boy was here. Some of them are of Christmas gifts I got (I still have to take more pictures to get the rest of my gifts from my readers), and some of them are of things that he brought and took back. Either way, I hope you enjoy them.

One of my gifts was a leather jockstrap by Colt

My cock bulging from the zipper in the pouch

My ass. I've been told it is worth seeing.

Leather jock, leather boots, rubber gas mask

Another shot of my ass

My fist on my boy's collar
That's all for this time. You guys got the cream of the crop here. I promise not to go an entire month before I post the rest of the pictures I have. I do want to go through them a bit first. And like I said, more gift pictures will be coming soon. If you sent me a Christmas gift and I haven't posted pictures yet, no worries, it will get done.

And if anyone is interested in sending me gifts for me to take pictures in, you can go to my wishlist on Amazon (the link is also on the side) and check out what I have there. I've already gotten more than I ever expected to, so thanks to all of you so much!