Tuesday, January 31, 2012

The Heart Grows Fonder

I'm sorry that I've been seemingly gone recently, having missed Sunday's usual Formspring post and my usual Monday morning post, but I've been a little preoccupied. This morning my boy got on a plane heading back home, and I wanted to make sure his last three days with me were as full and eventful as possible for him. I wanted the trip to be totally worth the time he took off and money he spent. Every time I asked him if he was enjoying himself, if he was having fun, or whatever, he would respond that any time with me was time well spent. I would smile, kiss him, and let my insecurities slowly build back up until the next time I asked him.

I probably don't need to say that I miss him and that I was sad to say goodbye, I'm sure that has been made clear already. Having him around, supporting me, servicing me, and just holding me has made me happier than I have been in a long time. Having someone to come home to, having someone to take care of, having someone around to talk to, to be with...It has all been much better than I expected. I don't know how I'm going to go back to my regular life of living alone after two weeks with this wonderful man, but I know I must try.

The best part, and by far the part I will miss most, of having him around, was those moments when he told me how wonderful I am. That may sound a bit egocentric of me, but let me explain. Those of you who know me and have been long-term readers of my blog know that I have some self esteem issues I struggle with. Whether it is worrying that I'm doing something wrong, am upsetting someone, or am just a terrible and ugly person, I can be pretty down on myself. Every time that happened these past two weeks, my boy was there to tell me how foolish I was being, and how wonderful I really am. He would tell me that I deserve such amazing things, the best out of life, and the love of those around me. I agree with him, but it was nice hearing someone else say those things to me. As he said frequently while here, "You've spent so much of your life being told that you're not worth it. I want to tell you that you are."

And the best part was that, when he said it, I believed it.

Coming back to my apartment without him was hard. The entire trip on public transportation from the airport was hard. I am definitely in a melancholy mood now, and I realize that I also have a lot to think about. But while I sit and wait for his message that he has arrived home safely, I can look at the message he sent me while I was on my way home and he was waiting for his plane: "You are so special. i will never let You doubt that again."

I'll do my best not to.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Lost In It

Having someone staying with me who wants nothing more than to make me happy has a lot of benefits. The shoulder rubs and the amazing dinners are a big part of it. Having someone around when I get home after a long day at work, and a body waiting in bed when I finally finish up my classwork, it all adds up to what has been a great streak of days that I've been having recently. A streak that I'm sad to see ending soon. I try not to think about how things will change (or go back to normal) once my boy is gone back home, but every now and then I'm reminded that soon I'll be the one making my meals, brushing my hair, and keeping my body warm and comfortable. I'll be alone again.

There are other benefits to having my boy around, however. In the time we've been together, he has managed to learn a lot about what pleases me and makes me feel good. And he takes great joy in finding new ways to use that knowledge to surprise and arouse me. And man does it work.

We had just woken up together and were enjoying touching and caressing each other. I was still a little groggy, but he was doing a good job as waking me up as he fondled my growing cock. I had to decide what we'd do. Would I get up and go to the bathroom, leaving him frustrated and waiting on me to give him pleasure? Would I roll him over and fuck him hard? Would I press his head down hard on my cock and choke him with it? No. I decided that what I wanted was to lay back and have him service me.

I pulled my cock out of the sheets and put my hands up over my head. "Jerk me off," I said to him. "You can put your mouth anywhere but on my cock."

His first choice to lick while rubbing me was my pit, hairy and sweaty from the night before. He Sniffed and licked with abandon, only moving slightly down my body at first. But while his mouth was only lightly occupied, both his hands were busy working my cock. Every so often he would stop to spit for lube, but other than that it was an almost constant pleasuring barrage on my nerves there. It had been years since I had simply let someone else work me over like this, and my cock was enjoying being handled by another's hands.

After a while my boy couldn't resist himself, and he moved down to take my head into his mouth. I gasped at the sudden difference in sensation, but quickly pulled him off, not wanting him to do anything except wank. His hands roamed around my genitals, one hand always jerking me while the other fondled my balls, then pressed my taint, then creeped a finger back to my hole.

I moaned at the combined sensations. I was feeling things I hadn't felt in months. For a long time my ass has been an exit only, no admittance to anything, not even my own finger. But as my pelvis moved with a mind of its own around his hands, I felt his finger pushing in deeper and deeper. I was tight, boy was I tight. And there was nothing lubricating the way, making my hole sore. The pleasure my cock was feeling turned that soreness into more pleasure, like it so often does when I'm close to orgasm, and I felt myself thrusting to meet his finger, pushing it in deeper. The whole time a voice in my head was against what was happening, but it got quieter and quieter as my heart beat drowned it out in my ears.

As my orgasm grew closer my legs went stiff then limp, then stiff again, over and over. My eyes were closed and my head was thrown back, resting entirely on my arms. I felt the cum rising out of my cock and wanted to alert my boy that I was about to shoot, but I couldn't seem to form words or thoughts. I knew I should be saying something, but all that came out of my mouth was garbled moans. I couldn't even squeeze out a "yes," I was so excited. I was at a higher peak of pleasure than I had reached in a long time, and without thinking I tried to stop myself from coming, tried to hold on to that zenith as long as possible. But my boy could tell I was close, and he closed one hand, squeezing my balls, pressing my taint, and sticking my ass all at once. And that was all it took.

I came, shooting what felt like hard, painful pellets of cum. He moved his mouth to my head, eager to drink down my load, and I didn't have the energy or desire to push him back. I was too far gone, all my muscles contracting and relaxing at once, leaving me exhausted while he milked the rest out of me. And I crashed back in a pile of happy feelings. It was the best orgasm I'd had in a very long time, and all it had taken was laying back and letting someone else do the work.

In my exhaustion I felt him pull his finger out of my hole, and it was a rough exit, my ass clamping shut immediately after. But I still felt good. I wanted to drift back off to sleep and just ignore everything that I needed to do for the day. How do you keep going after the best part of your day is already over? With a shaking sensation still going through my limbs, I sat up, determined that we would do it again soon, but when we had more time after for me to simply be lost in all the pleasure.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

The Quick Visit

The higher-ups at my college, for whatever reason, decided a long time ago that our Spring Break would be a couple weeks earlier than most other colleges. This made it really hard to do much of anything over break, as often there would still be snow on the ground. If you had money to go to warmer climates, you still had to deal with the fact that even Florida gets cold in the winter time. Not as cold, of course, but trust me, when you're in Florida when there's snow and frost, you think twice about going in the winter months.

It also means that if I went home for Spring Break, most of my old friends were still at college and I was stuck at home with family, and then they come home and I'm back to work. But I was one of the few kids from my high school to venture away from New England, most stayed in the area. I had a few as close as an hours drive away at a small college in New Hampshire. One of them was a boy I had only met a few times, but had talked to frequently online, on the phone, and through text since. He was a small, thin boy with sparse facial hair, almost as if he were still stuck in puberty, though he was more than a year older than me. I don't mean to make him sound like a twink; he was much too grungy for that. He was the special kind of nerd who doesn't scurry around from book to book with a pocket protector and calculator in hand, as the stereotype would have it. He was a metal-band lover, Star Trek obsessed, bespectacled nerd. In other words, super cute and much my type. At least physically, but we won't get into that.

Patrick met me at the entrance to his dorm building, after helping me navigate the strange roads around the campus. He and I spent a fun evening in his dorm room, on his computer, doing something or another, though I don't really remember what. We were joined by his female friend at one point and the three of us went to dinner, then back to his room to hang out. It was fun talking to people my age and hanging out with them, but I had come for a different reason. I was here to fool around with Patrick.

We flirted as much as two people can without making the third person feel uncomfortable. Patrick sat his incredibly light frame on my lap while we were on his computer, and I wrapped my arms around him. He would wiggle and flex his bone-hard ass, keeping me at a permanent semi-hard state the whole time. At one point, the girl left us to use the bathroom, and while she was gone I lifted his shirt up and pushed one of my hands down into his pants, grabbing his cock and balls. As I fondled him I nibbled on his ear and whispered, "You like this, don't you?"

"Yes," he hissed out in a breath.

"What do you think would happen if she came back and saw us like this?"

He moaned and squirmed uncomfortably at the thought. His movements made my hand move around his crotch, and he started to chub up under the friction. I licked and kissed his neck to add to the building tension. All too soon the girl was opening the door back up. My hands shot out of his pants and I immediately began talking as if nothing had changed since she'd been gone, and she was none the wiser.

At some point during the night, the girl had to leave to go back to the women's dorm. Patrick's roommate was spending the night somewhere else (he and Patrick apparently didn't get along too well). We were going to be alone, finally, for a while.

Patrick, for all his talk to me about being a top and being dominant in bed, was doing absolutely none of the work, no matter how much I tried to coax the dirty boy out of him with my touch and gentle nibbling. I decided to step up my game. I lifted him bodily off my lap, and I pulled his pants down, leaving him in just his t-shirt and black briefs. I always like a guy in briefs, though my being able to see his ribs poking out above the elastic band ruined the effect a bit. I like men with a little meat on their bones.

His cock was fully hard now, and had a nice size and girth to it. Nothing too big, nothing to write home about, but bigger than average and it was clear that he knew how to use it. Once I pulled the shirt over his head and stripped down to my own briefs, he began to warm up to our play. And when I pressed my lips to his, he closed his eyes and began to reach my level of passion. By the time I had him pressed down to his bed, my nose pressed to his pubic hair and his cock down my throat, he was lost in the pleasure and groaning for more. Even in the throws of orgasm, though, his touch almost seemed tentative, as if he was unsure that I would be OK with him touching me. I wanted to show him how OK it was, cradling him in my arms, pressing as much of my body to him as I could and rubbing him all over.

After we had finished sucking each other off and cleaning up, he walked me back to my car where we made out for a few more minutes before I got in, promising that we would meet up again that summer and have a repeat performance. While it wasn't the last time that we saw each other, we never did get a chance to hook up again. And eventually we fell out of touch as he dropped out of school and I stopped coming home on breaks. It was a quick visit but definitely a memorable one, and much more so because I never got to do it again.

Monday, January 23, 2012


In retrospect, it almost seems like fate that this happened. Prior to starting the sexual activity I'm about to describe I had a short conversation with Rob the Breeder about writing up a book of sexual injuries. It was all in fun, but I guess making fun of sexual injuries was, in a way, like asking for one to happen sooner or later. And, eventually, it did.

Of course, the sex involved was great. Isn't that the way it goes? The sex can be as amazing as you want, it doesn't change the fact that you're human and suffer injuries like the rest of the mortals walking by outside, unaware of the fact that you're having fun fucking. Just another part of life, I guess.

It was the first time I would fuck my boy, something we'd unfortunately had to wait on due to a series of other circumstances that prevented us from getting as intimate with each other as we had wanted to from the start. But we were ready now, and it felt like something a long time coming. Both of us knew we wanted it, and without really communicating the desire to each other, we both nodded our readiness. I quickly ran to grab my cock ring and to open up a new bottle of Spunk Lube which is by the same guy who made Str8cam Lube (and is technically the same thing in a different package). I had only recently had the chance to try that lube this past summer, and it quickly became my favorite lube. But I digress.

I entered my boy quickly, but honestly I don't think he felt much pain. His hole opened right up and sucked me in the way his mouth had been sucking me in moments before. It had been way too long since I had been in another man's ass, and longer still since it was one that wasn't virginally tight and crushing my cock. To say it felt wonderful to be invading his hole would be like saying cake is rather nice to eat. And from the way he just gasped and groaned as I pushed my way in, it felt pretty nice for him too.

I wasn't very gentle, and I didn't go slow. He had put a nice leather chest harness on, so I grabbed the straps of that, pulled back hard, and started pumping quickly. I pushed in as deeply as I could. I was hitting all the right spots inside of him. His moans crescendoed to the point that, in difference to the neighbors I knew were walking by right outside my door, I decided to push his face down into the mattress to muffle his voice. I pressed him down, only slightly worried about him getting air, and renewed my onslaught. With his face covered and his cries quieter, I began driving in harder and harder, biting at his back and neck as I did.

I pressed his whole body down, still pumping in and out of him. I wasn't going as deep anymore, but it was still doing amazing things for him. I spread his checks, pulled him up, tossed him around a bit, and worked him over. Eventually we had to take a break, the sex having been a bit too vigorous for the both of us. I decided that a little toy play would be a fun plan and a great way to keep us both in the mood while we recovered.

My boy had brought a pair of nipple suckers from Fort Troff with him, and I really wanted to play with them a bit. I put on on his left nipple and one on my right. Sadly, the one on me didn't stick as well as I had hoped. We tried a couple more times and then placed it on my left nipple instead. It stuck a bit longer than before, but hurt a little bit. Of course, anyone used to nipple play knows that the pain can just bring the pleasure on harder and faster, so I didn't pay much attention to it. That is, I didn't until it fell off again.

That is when I noticed a little bit of blood. I felt like it was somewhat expected, since recently I've been dealing with the problem of my skin healing over the left ring a bit, causing a nasty scab that I'm hoping will go away sooner rather than later. I hadn't thought about that scab before placing the sucker on, and apparently the harder nipple play was a bit too much for my still-healing nipple. There was just a tiny bit of bleeding and a pain that was a bit too much to bring on pleasure.

We needed to end our sex a little quicker than expected, so I had my boy suck me off instead of opening his ass back up again. I jerked myself off into his mouth, and let the orgasm take me, washing away the pain of my bleeding nipple. Then my boy stood up and we hugged each other tightly, whispering sweetly in each other's ears. The tenderness that comes after rougher sex is some of the best moments I get to regularly experience, and I love having them. When I pulled away, however, I noticed a smear of blood on my boy's chest. I looked down at my nipple.

What had previously been just a little bit of blood, nothing to worry about, had turned into a rather steady flow, not healing as much as just bleeding out. I had to (reluctantly) end out tender moments in the interest of wiping up and clotting my wound. I had to wash it out. I had to wipe my blood stain up off his chest. As much fun as cleaning up after sex can be, the fun goes away when what you're cleaning up is your own blood. And yet, as far as sex injuries go, it certainly was not one of my worst. At least I was able to clean it up and stop the pain from spreading further. Still, it was not the most romantic way to end the moment, and certainly not how I would have wanted my first time with my boy. But it was so worth it.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Formspring and Where Did this Snow Come From?

Well, after a long season of very little snow, I guess it was bound to happen at some point. Still, I have to say that seeing all this white stuff on the ground makes me a little sad, even if my inner child wants to make snow men and throw snow balls. It is cold out, and I really don't like the cold. My fingers and toes freeze up quicker than an object floating in space, and my hands and feet follow quickly. So days with snow and cold generally see me retreating under my covers and shivering the hours away, even if I probably have better things to do. I'm a hibernator by nature, I guess, and a snow storm is the quickest way to get me to sleep for hours on end. As such, my day yesterday was pretty lazy, except for when I finally dragged my ass out of bed and went for a fun stroll through Boston Common, bringing my boy along with me. Even as my extremities went numb, I have to admit that I really enjoyed walking through the winterscape with my boy, stopping to kiss him at different intervals, pointing out various scenic spots to visit. That being said, getting back to my cool apartment and snuggling in with him to warm up was probably my favorite part of the adventure.

But seriously, can it warm up and be summer already?

I guess it is time to slide on over to my Formspring inbox for some questions to answer. Hope you all are ready to ask me some new ones. As always, you can also send me any questions you have in an email as well. I'm happy to answer questions on any topic. I really enjoy letting you guys get to know me beyond the sex-blog aspect of my life, and I think you all enjoy it as well (go on, admit it). Now, here we go!

To write a successful novel versus a successful sex blog: Does one require more skill, are the two skills different but equal, or are they basically the same?

There are multiple layers to this question, but I will try to answer as succinctly as possible:

There are some skills that are the same, some that are different, and some that are absent to each form. For example, to write a successful anything you really have to be commited to writing regularly. There are a lot of bloggers and authors out there who do not have the commitment it takes to be a true writer (there is a difference between writer and author, by the way). When people ask me if they have what it takes to be a writer, I will usually pose to them this question: If you had everything you could want, all the money you needed to live, and never had to work or do anything again, what would you do? If the answer is that you would still write, then you are probably on the right track. That's actually a good technique for figuring out what you really want to do with your life, by the way.

Then, of course, there are things that are dissimilar. For example, to write a novel, you have to be able to carry plots and characters along in a (for the most part) linear narrative, with all the ups and downs that comes with. You can't just drop characters and plot lines, and you can't have people suddenly change their minds without notice. A sex blog, however, is about real life. In real life people drop away unexpectedly, or you just stop with a certain relationship, effectively ending that "plotline." So writing small portions of your life out is an entire different kind of writing, though I hope I have demonstrated that it can be just as poetic and meaningful as the other kinds of writing.

BĂ©arnaise or Hollandaise?

I don't really use either in my cooking or eating, though I know when they are commonly used. I am just not a big fan of sauces. And I don't eat poached fish, so hollandaise kind of loses purpose.

Have you ever been in a sling?

No, in spite of the fact that from the first time I saw one used in porn many years ago I have fantasied about it. I have also never fucked a guy in a sling, no matter how much I have wanted that too. I really need to get on that at some point. It seems almost wrong that I have done so much but a sling is something I missed out on.

A nasty form of syphilis is said to be on the rise. Has this affected your sexual behavior?

First of all, all forms of syphilis are nasty, as it isn't a virus you can just shake off. However, I am under the understanding that those who are most at risk are the recently incarcerated, due to the fact that many prisons don't test inmates for STDs (something I have a HUGE problem with, but that is a conversation for another day). That, mixed with the fact that I haven't had much of any sex since my last test makes me pretty unworried. If it were actually becomming a problem, you would hear more about it.

In the candy store of life, what confection is Ace?

Good question. I think I am probably something that is universally sweet, as I am generally a very sweet person to all I meet (unless you piss me off). But I would say I am also something that excites the taste buds, makes the tongue tingle with flavor. Not sure what kind of sweet matches that (I surprisingly don't eat many sweets), but that's what I would be.

Silicone or water-based lube?

I would have to say that I prefer non-water-based lubes simply because of the way it dries up quickly, and it can cause a bit more mess than other lubes (to be blunt: crap doesn't stick to a dick slicked with silicone). However, there are the obvious problems of silicone lube when dealing with toys or condoms during safer sex. Honestly, my favorite lubricant is Str8Cam Lube which you can get at http://str8camlube.com// The lube is great, feels great, doesn't dry up, and is very safe to use. Plus Jeff, the guy who makes it, is incredibly nice as well as sexy and has frequent cam shows. What more can you ask for?

Do you have a favorite flower or plant? If so, do you care about scent?

I honestly don't know that much about flowers/plants. I have a certain sentimental attachment to chrysanthemums, and I do like roses (red is my favorite color, after all). I also used to have a cactus that I loved, until my mom threw it away.

What is your favorite ethnic cuisine?

If I had to say "favorite," does American count? Sorry, but I love my hamburgers and hot dogs and cakes. For non-American food; I like Thai food a lot. I recently was taken to Cambodian food, and that was nice too. Over-all, if it has some kind of yummy meat in it, I like it. Or if it is pizza. I love pizza.

That's all for this week. To all my fellow Northerners, I hope you are all staying warm and safe in the snow. To everyone down South, I'm very, very jealous.

Friday, January 20, 2012

Stumbled Upon

For the first two years of my college education, I would frequent a well-hidden, but also frequently-occupied glory hole on campus. Things slowed down the third year I was there, and my last year I never actually got any action there, and the hole even got patched up a bit (though anyone with a screwdriver could have opened it back up). Initially, however, the hole was merely covered by a hanging toilet paper roll that could be lifted off easily. The location was frequented by students and faculty alike, and I wouldn't be surprised to learn that some townies knew about it too. It was in one of the men's rooms in the library, a place that would have served well as a creepy bathroom in a dark thriller. For whatever reason, that particular bathroom had low lighting, heavy doors, and a long, corridor-like shape that made it perfect for hiding out and getting some action.

And the best part was, I stumbled upon it completely by accident. I didn't like studying in the library, but my area of my dorm that first year was for some reason the Mecca for video game playing. The three rooms around mine would all be playing whatever new game was out, and they would be playing each other. And then a large group of guys would show up and stand in the hallway, trying their best to watch all three screens at once, and commenting loudly on what was happening. This was a fairly nightly activity, and my roommate and I certainly didn't enjoy being around it. He coped by talking to his girlfriend on the phone while doing his work, and I coped by grabbing a table at the library and doing whatever it was I needed to do.

I wound up at the library late at night more often than I needed to be there, simply because I needed an out. It didn't take me long to notice guys I recognized as being campus gays spending a lot of time in the bathroom, and eventually, on a very boring night when the library was practically empty, and I was just staring at the pages of a book, curiosity got the best of me. I walked in. I don't know what I thought might be going on, but I'm not sure I expected what I found.

As I walked in, a guy left one of the stalls, clearly in the process of closing up his jeans, his still hard cock making that a little difficult. He tried to act inconspicuous at first, but then guessed I wasn't going to tell on him and graced me with a knowing smile as he went through the motions of washing his hands. I walked up to the stall he had left and shut the door, looking around at what appeared to be a regular stall. Unsure of how to proceed, I did the usual foot-tap, hoping that would let my neighbor know I was interested, but a little confused of the etiquette in this new place.

I was a little shocked by the toilet paper holder bumping lightly off the stall wall, but quickly figured out that was how I was to take it off. I removed it and placed it on the floor, revealing a nice hole in the stall that wasn't drilled or smashed. If anything, it seemed like the hole had once held a bar or pipe of some kind, but no longer was required for the task. Instead, it was currently framing a set of lips that opened into an eager mouth.

I quickly began to jerk my already mostly-hard cock, pushing it forward to the awaiting man on the other side. He was a great cock sucker too. It didn't take me long (not that it ever did back then) to get worked up by his mouth to the point that I was pulling out because I didn't want to cum too soon. I poked my fingers through, offering to suck the guy off as well, but instead of feeling his cock, I felt his mouth performing fellatio on my fingers. That was all the suggestion I needed, and I quickly pushed my cock back through.

Within no time I was biting on my fist to keep as quite and still as possible as I came. I zipped up and left fairly quickly, having left my school stuff sitting out in the library the entire time I was in the bathroom. I don't think anyone ever lost anything like a book in that library, but I wasn't about to take chances. Outside I contemplated sitting and waiting to see who I had just had the benefit of feeding, but thought better of it, instead packing up my things and heading back to my dorm. My roommate looked up as I came in and made some comment about me being back a bit early. I made up some excuse about being bored and turned on the TV.

I got to spend a lot of time in that bathroom, both servicing and being serviced. I eventually even met some of the other guys who frequented the spot. It was probably the safest and surest place to cruise on my campus, and I was really sad that it died out towards the end of my time there. I don't think the library workers were cracking down or getting wise (honestly, very few guys went in there without intending to get sucked off). I think it had more to do with my college attracting less new students. With the campus population down, the amount of guys interested in dick dropped too. But at least I have some good memories of my time there.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

More of My Boy

Ignoring the inordinently long time since I last had sex; how long has it been since I was so comfortable lying next to someone I loved that I cried tears of joy? How long has it been since I spent an entire day focusing just on what makes me happy, and discovering that my joy fits perfectly in line with the joy of the person I'm with? The answer is months. It has been months since I fell asleep and woke up happy knowing I was with someone I cared for. The last time was before I had even started this blog.

And when was the last time I got to wake up happy next to someone I loved two days in a row? I don't even want to think about it. The term "forever" comes to mind, as does the phrase "I don't remember the last time."

These past few days with my boy have shown me not only that I am capable of being happy, but that I deserve to be as happy as I am in this very moment. I deserve to have a smile stapled to my face, and I deserve to walk around like a furry goof-ball. And I deserve to be able to reach out and touch someone every time I feel the least bit lonely. I have wanted that feeling for so long now, after quite some time of relationship-free sex; I have wanted to remember that I am worth it. And I guess I have had too many recent disappointments to remember it on my own.

For anyone who is wondering, I'll clear the issue right now: I am not embarking on a monogamous relationship my boy, we are not settling down and getting married. What we are doing for each other, however, is just as important to both of us, if not more so. That is, of course, we are caring for each other. Holding each other when we are sad, cooking for each other, kissing one another...It is wonderful.

But if I am so deserving of this happiness, why does that niggling voice in the back of my head still show up (and at the worst times). It is the voice that calmly and gently whispers in my ear when I am hugging my boy. When he is in my arms or rubbing my back, the voice simply says, "This won't last. He will leave you. Like everyone else."

Seriously, what is that all about? Why in my moments of total happiness, do I still feel like I don't deserve happiness? I am being shown how easy I am to love, but everything inside of me still finds it hard to believe that I am lovable. I can't help but ponder what a crazy mess I am, no matter how often my boy tells me I'm perfect. And these moments of pondering are when my boy truly comes through for me. One look from his smiling face and all doubts I have vanish, and I find myself kissing him, holding him tight, and feeling totally blessed that I know this man who can make me feel like a whole person.

It may seem like I am running away from the problem by using his love for me. If that is the case, though, I must run away once again. Knowing that there is a man waiting in the other room for me, not expecting anything of me, not wanting me to be someone I am not, just hoping that I will hold him; that knowledge makes it hard to stay away from him for long. And so I am cutting this blog post here, leaving to go be happy some more.

Monday, January 16, 2012

My Boy

I am rarely at a lost for words with what to say about a person, but when I try to write about my time so far with my boy, the words fill my head to near overflowing and I can hardly pick out the right ones.

My boy had hardly been in my apartment for a full minute, just long enough to push all his bags into a spot in the corner, and I was on top of him. We were both incredibly happy to see each other and be in each other's presence. We had been planning his trip to come visit me for a while, and in the week before our nerves had been on edge waiting for the chance to finally hold each other. After some slight hiccups with his travel plans, being home at my apartment in the modest warmth and comfort that I get here was more than we could have asked for, and I must admit that I was unable to keep my hands off of him.

I kissed him first. Maybe the first time his smile had left his lips since spotting me earlier that evening. My kisses were short at first; I hadn't decided on what would happen next. But soon my desire took over me. My kisses became more forceful, more demanding of him, and he submitted his mouth willingly to my urges.

We were still standing in our coats and shoes from the outside, and my first goal was to remove as many of those as possible. The more that my skin touched his, the more undressed we got, the more my desire to have him in that moment grew. I couldn't restrain myself, surprised at how badly I wanted to take him right there, in that particular spot of my floor. It felt like it took us forever to take our clothes off, but it could not have been that long. I think we were both slightly amazed at the fact that we were finally together. Amazed that we had any kind of contact at all. When we had spoken before, both of us had mentioned that we would be happy that first night to simply hold each other in bed, waiting until the next day to finally fuck around. That was no longer an option. We had started and we were not going to stop.

It all seems like a blur now, though I know that in the moment I was feeling every single sensation, present in every moment, and loving everything. My boy got down on his knees to start worshiping my cock, and his skills were amazing. Not only was he easily able to take my cock all the way down his throat, making that wonderful gulping sound while he did, his skills with just the tip left me breathless. His tongue on my balls made me gasp and moan in pleasure. All the while, he was smiling up at me.

I got behind him while he was on his knees and I rubbed my naked, hard body over his back, whispering dirty things in his ear, nibbling on his rings, his lobe. I nibbled on his neck. I pressed every part of myself against him that I could. I rubbed myself all over him, like a cat marking my territory with my scent.

Eventually I moved back up to his mouth, intending on finishing there, as he hadn't had a chance to clean out due to all the traveling  and the long day. I don't think it took me much longer, he had me worked into a frenzy by just being there for me to use. Within minutes (or was it longer? I can't tell) I was shooting my load, I was exploding out over him, and then I was bent, wiping my cum away from his eye with care not to hurt him, feeling waves of warmth wash over me as he smiled up at me and I down at him. Wonderful.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Formspring and Where Has Ace Been?

I do realize that I had promised to be back to regular posting this past week, and then I posted twice and disappeared. To gloss over why this happened, we can have a fun little tete-a-tete about how my week ended. It is one of those fun city stories, and I don't have many of those yet, so I'm going to tell it, even if there is no sex involved.

Thursday night I plopped down on my couch after dinner to watch a little TV before bed like I always do. That was around 10pm. Before the episode I was watching finished, I was passed out, and I didn't wake up until hours later, managed to drag myself into my bed, and then I woke up later than normal the next morning. Hence, no blog post on Friday. While out with a friend on Thursday, I had been invited to a party after I got off of work Friday night at a nice gay couple's apartment in one of the outer areas of the city. So after work, I grabbed the subway out, and dug in to a fun night of drinking and flirting with this group of people I had just met. It was a ton of fun, and I really enjoyed myself. A little too much, perhaps, because I ended up staying much past when public transportation in Boston shuts down, and I did not have the money for a cab that would need to go past tolls and clear to the other side of the city just to get me home. The hosts of the party were very kind and let me and another guest who had stayed too long crash at their apartment, and we slept off our drunken antics until late yesterday morning. When we finally were up, my fellow couch guest and I rode back into the city in the clothes we had been wearing for over twenty-four hours to do some shopping. She had work and I had to be at the airport in time to pick up my sexy leather boy, so neither of us had time to go to our apartments. Long story short (too late, I know) my boy's flight was delayed and I ended up spending a long time shopping and even went to see an IMAX 3D presentation on sharks at the aquarium before heading to the airport to pick him up. He was kind enough to pay for a cab ride to my apartment, almost thirty hours after I had left it the day before.

Would it be pushing the point too hard to mention that I have been busy? I know: city boy problems. I'll get over it.

Now that the excuses have been made, we can progress to the portion of the week where I open myself up to your scrutiny. As always, you can ask me anything on my Formspring page or by sending me an email. I love answering questions, so if there's anything you're dying to ask, ask away!

Is there a car you'd really like to own? Would it be manual or automatic, and why?

This might sound strange, but I really like the RAV4. I got to drive one once and it handles really well and has plenty of room for my long legs without cramping anyone who might be sitting behind me. Also great trunk space. I also really want a cherry red Mustang convertible, but not a newer model. I generally drive automatic, but I would put up with manual if I needed to. I just prefer automatic for highway driving and back in Ohio that was pretty much all I did.

Do you have any hobbies? Are there any hobbies you're interested in but haven't had the chance to try yet?

Is eating a hobby? I used to build models when I was younger, both naval replicas as well as for Warhammer games. I stopped because it got a bit more expensive and I had a lot less time. Every so often I pick up dancing as a hobby. I've taken classes in latin dance, bellydancing, and one bollywood dance class. You could probably say my obsure TV and movie watching is a bit of a hobby too.

Do you think the country will be better off economically in a year, worse off, or about the same?

I'm not an economist, so I really don't know much about this, but I think better off. Obama will likely do everything he can to end this four year term well, regardless of whether or not he gets reelected. Also, I think that a lot of lower level politicians are starting to get the idea that people are upset and some states are doing their best to help on a smaller level.

What is your opinion about the case involving the former Penn State University defensive coach being charged with molesting boys?

I don't know a lot about it, but based on the fact that he was reported by an eyewitness sodomizing a ten year old boy in the team showers in 2002 and nothing was done, I think more heads than just his should be rolling.

Despite my own past having sex with men much older than me, I in no way advocate for sexual crimes, especially those against the underaged. Besides, there is no way you can tell me that a ten year old knew what he was doing and understood the rammifications of that situation. I have listened to too many men justify underaged sex (thanks to my criminal sociology classes) and I really don't approve. So that's my two cents.

Stuffing or potatoes?

Definitely prefer potatoes over stuffing.

Are you getting enough sleep?

It comes and goes, but there's a good chance that I'm not. I'm working on fixing that, but it is difficult with school and everything to really get into a set pattern for sleep. I envy people out in the working world who at least know when to sleep and when to get up each day. For me, it is a day-by-day thing. (To add to this: at this point in my life, it is hard to expect me to get regular sleep every night as my work and school schedules fluctuate, as does my regular life. Pretty normal for someone my age, though.)

Mayonaise or Miracle Whip?

I was always a Miracle Whip fan, but now I can't have either in abundance because of my lactose intollerance. Which is fine because I kind of had stopped eating mayo on my food anyway. I only ever had it with tuna fish sandwiches in the first place.

How (if at all) do you think electronic media (Internet, cell phone, ebook, i-pad, ETC) have affected traditional literary forms?

I think that the fact that you can get most older books (like Jane Austen, Sir Arthur Conan Doyal, and Jules Verne) for free on most (if not all) electronic forms has likely opened them up to a whole group of people who would never have read them if they were made to pay to buy and carry around a book. I think also it has allowed some people to write shorter texts, self publish or publish online, and then release only electronically, thus flooding the market with inexpensive and quick reads, meaning that people will have to search harder for the gems in the inevitable coal pile that is literature.

However, I also think that there will always be those of us who love books and love owning and having and smelling books who won't give it up. I don't have any e-readers, though I do have the Kindle app on my phone. But I use it only for books that I want to be able to pick up and put down whenever. In fact, most of the books I have on there are favorites I know very well. So I think I don't use the program the same way as everyone else.

That's all the questions for this week! Thanks to everyone for sending them, and thanks to you all for reading.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Kissing Ace

I start my kisses off lightly. I want to taste the lips I'm about to kiss before I get too caught up in what is behind and between them. But this sweet, chaste moment doesn't last long. Unless I detect some terribly bad breath, I dive right in, opening my mouth and sliding my tongue out, getting ready to allow my partner's tongue in as well. This isn't an invitation to invade my mouth with a tongue spread out, choking me with a kiss. In fact, that is the easiest way to cause me to stop kissing immediately, and is a huge turn off to me.

My hands will travel up to the face and hair of the person I'm kissing, stroking the ears, the temples, gently massaging the scalp. I hope to stimulate more than just the lips when I kiss. Eventually I will start tugging on the lips every now and then, first by simply sucking on them, but then with my teeth holding them, biting into them slightly. I suck on the tongue like it is a hard cock and then trap it in my mouth. When I am kissing someone with full, juicy lips, I can spend long, sensual minutes sucking on the lower lip, enjoying the flavor and texture. My ministrations eventually cause the lips to bloom and swell pleasantly, but I am just getting started.

My hands will move down from the head, rubbing the chest (with some extra focus on the nipples) and down to the crotch and ass. While this may seem like it is leading to sex, my wandering hands are still all just a part of the continuing kiss. While I grope the rest of the body, my mouth moves to one side of the neck or the other, kissing and licking my way up to the ear lobe. Nibbling and licking at the ear, I will pause ever so slightly to whisper compliments into my partner's ear. I tell them everything about them that turns me on. I tell them about how much I'm enjoying kissing them. I tell them how badly I want them. Then, without hesitation, I plunge my tongue into the ear, licking around it, over it, below it. I press my hardening cock against them, letting them know exactly the effect they are having on me. Then I kiss my way back to their mouth, eager to share the flavor I've picked up with them. I am happy when they enjoy themselves on my lips and tongue.

Kissing for me is an art form, and one that I love to cultivate with many different partners. I enjoy making out with people who see it in the same way. When I meet someone who is skilled with their lips, I never want to stop kissing them. For me, a long session of kissing can be just as good, or even better, than the sex that may or may not follow. I can kiss someone and never cum, never pull my cock out, never even hump the person a little, and still feel fully sated and happily sexed up for the night. Do I have to kiss while fucking? No. Does it make the experience a hell of a lot more enjoyable for me? You bet!

What can I say? I'm an orally inclined kind of guy.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Amid the Leather Men

This is the promised report of my leather bar night trip this Saturday. Various issues caused my tardiness in posting it. I wanted to do it right, however, and not just post something half-assed. So here is my (hopefully full-assed) post about the first truly fun night I have had in a while.

I wasn't entirely ready when he walked into my apartment. I had been more than a little behind schedule all day, and now that it was night, I was still a little bit behind schedule. To say that my thoughts of time flew away while staring at him, clad head to foot in leather, would be an accurate statement. I was still only in my leather pants and a t-shirt I had been wearing all day. We had decided that I would show him some of my gear and talk a while before we left.

This tall, handsome man is a reader and friend, though this was the first time we were meeting in person, and he had invited me to join him at the local leather club's monthly bar night, even offering to drive me to the bar and back so that I wouldn't have to stick to the public transportation timetable. He also kindly was willing to show up at my apartment a few hours before the event to help assuage my nerves. As much as I have done in my short life, I had never before been to a leather event or a meeting of leather men. The most interaction I'd had on that front was meeting up with one or two other guys with leather fetishes for some play time. But at the bar night, I would be around a lot of men, both in gear and out, who I had never met before and that worried me a bit.

I'm not terrible in crowds when I don't know people, and I'm certainly not one to hide in a corner, but I always find it much easier when there is at least one person I know well, someone I can cling to if my mingling skills are overwhelmed or not up to snuff. That is why I had a guy dressed in full leather sitting on my couch. He had graciously come over early to talk with me and help me feel like I wasn't diving into a crowd without a friendly face. Even though we had been talking online for quite a while, I didn't feel comfortable just jumping in the car of a man I had yet to meet in person, no because I was worried I would be kidnapped, but more because I felt it would be socially awkward to do so. If this is painting me as someone who way over-thinks things, then you're starting to get an idea of how my mind works. I'm not crazy, I'm just constantly doubting myself.

It didn't take long to realize that I wasn't going to make a fool of myself in front of this man or his friends, so after I chowed down on some quick spaghetti, we were in his car and on our way to meet some guys at the bar. I was dressed in leather pants tucked into my tall boots, a black, geeky shirt, a leather vest and a leather coat. The shirt was mainly there because I was very cold and wanted the extra layer of warmth. I expected it to leave my body at some point in the evening.

We arrived at the bar and were miraculously able to park in a very convenient location, considering it was a Saturday and we were in a very busy area of Boston. After I almost walked past the door while not paying attention (I was more worried that my boots were cutting my ankle up a bit), I stepped inside for the first time. The bar was much like any other bar, with plenty of bottles lined up and places to site right inside the door. There was then a second area to the back with more bar space and a dance floor. Beyond that was a pool table and (strangely enough) a claw machine with stuffed toys and porn DVDs inside. The people we were meeting were right inside the door, and after names were exchanged we were off into the night to go to a pizza place.

We five men in leather were well aware of how we looked in that pizza place, but it was more of a joke to us than anything we were actually concerned about. No one gave us much notice beyond when we walked in the door. The meal was great and I had a ton of fun talking with these new men I had met moments before. Even though they were all older than me, I felt like I fit in with them well, and I felt like they were warming up to me too. One guy in particular, who was dressed in just jeans and a buttoned shirt, seemed to really enjoy talking to me, and taking a vested interest in me.

Later on at the bar when he stripped his shirt off and put on the harness he had been carrying in his pocket (leading me to question what else he had in there), he and I played tongue hockey for a bit while the club music played in the background. We weren't the only couple of guys making out, but he was the kind of kisser that makes you forget your surroundings and focus entirely on the kiss, the kind of kisser I happen to be, if I'm not patting myself on the back too hard. I don't mean to make that sound overly romantic in any way, I just mean that when you are a great kisser and are presented with another great kisser, you get so involved in how wonderful of a kiss you are sharing that you lose track of everything else. It is almost like playing tennis with an opponent as skilled as you are, you want to throw in everything you've got, while at the same time keeping some tricks hidden until the perfect moment to spring them, just to see how the other guy reacts.

This guy reacted well, and I felt wonderful when our lips finally parted to a shout of, "Get a room." I thought very happily that, even if nothing but that kiss happened that night, it would be a great night indeed. I wasn't planning on fooling around with anyone from the bar that night, and hadn't even thought the night through to that point in my preparations. But it was clear to me from the multiple times this guy offered me a ride home that he had other things on his mind. Little did he know, he was slowly barking up the wrong tree. It wasn't that I wasn't interested in him. It was that he clearly thought I was a bottom, and had every expectation of fucking me if we went home together.

Instead of doing the right thing and letting him down easily that I was a total top except on a very, very rare occasion, I slipped into Tease Mode and let him think he was sweeping me off my feet. I have no idea where the impulse to tantalize this man with something he couldn't have came from, but I played it up good, even sitting on his lap for a while, letting him rub my furry chest under my leather vest.

Eventually I let him loose and made more introductions with more members of the leather club. I met and exchanged more names that I will ever remember, and there were more people who came and left without me being introduced to them. Overall the atmosphere was very fun, these guys were here to relax and enjoy a night, regardless of how many college-aged queens and their hags came up from the club downstairs. There was even a short, brown skinned man dancing in yellow underwear, his cock and balls clearly tied off with something to bulge out, up on a raised surface by the dance floor, something I was told was very unusual for the bar. I have a thing for darker skinned guys, be they Latino or Middle Eastern, so his gyrating ass was a nice juxtaposition to the hunky leather daddies I spent the night talking to.

Eventually (after sharing some kisses with some more fine men) I found my way back over to the sexy man who had driven me to the bar, and grabbed him by his vest and pulled him in for another amazing make-out session. I was almost drunk with the feeling of his leather pressing against me, and my hands wandered everywhere, my hardening cock pressing into his thigh as I groped both his ass and his crotch. I started unbuttoning his top so I could get at his nipples and chest, inhaling the scent of him deeply. Then he did something that I found incredibly erotic: he took his hat and glasses off and rubbed his face and head through my chest hair. I wrapped my hands around his head, bending a few times to nibble at his ear when it came close to me. I could feel my ever-leaky cock pumping pre-cum down my leg as he kept at it, and for the second time that night the entire bar melted away for me. When we finally finished with each other, the bar was noticeably emptier, and I hadn't seen anyone leave.

When we finally left the bar my head was throbbing hard and I wasn't quite sure why, as I hadn't had any alcohol that night. I was still enjoying myself, though, and the ride back was full of me talking about how much fun I'd had. How much I wanted to come back. It had been the first time I'd had any kind of social interaction that wasn't either with family or the people I work with, and I didn't want it to end. When I got out of his car and walked to my apartment, my head was still aching, and I was very tired, but I would have given anything to still be at that bar surrounded by those sexy men in their leather.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

First Formspring of the New Year

As part of my whole "get back into the swing of blogging" kick I'm on these days, I am officially doing my first Formspring post of 2012. I hope we are all enjoying the new year so far, and I hope that everyone who made resolutions (honestly, I never do) haven't given up on them yet. Anyone make any good resolutions? I know some people who yearly resolve to work out more and then quit by the end of January. I myself am thinking of starting up p90x again, but that is pretty time-consuming so I'm not sure yet. I might try something else.

Also, for those of you wondering if I went to the leather meeting at the bar last night, the answer is yes. And for those of you wondering how it was, don't worry, there will be a full report waiting for you in my blog soon. I will say that I haven't had a chance to enjoy so many sexy leather men in various states of undress ever in my life. I certainly had plenty of fun images to take home with me.

Anyway, on to the questions! As always, if you would like, you can ask me anything on Formsrping (whether or not you're a member) or send me some questions in an email. I really enjoy answering them because it gives me a chance to sort of open up a side of me that would show if all I ever posted about was my sex life. So keep them coming, and I'll keep answering them.

(I apologize for the way the font is all messed up for these questions. I'm not sure why it looks like this and editing the font doesn't seem to change anything. I'm giving up for now.)

Someone older and wiser once claimed that effective artists, in their personal lives, "wallow in excess". Do you agree, disagree, or reserve judgment?

That is a really interesting quote and I would be interested in learning who said it. I think what the quote may be saying that we creatives suffer from excessive personal lives that can actually be a detriment to our work. But I suppose it could be saying that every creative person has something they do to excess. Either way I definitely know some people who fill those roles. But I don't see anything wrong with excess. It is when we let it control us that we have problems.

Is it possible to create something without destroying something else, be it a thing, an idea, or an old order?

I would say yes, unless you think change is equivalent to destruction. I think you can create by building off of what others have done. I don't believe in originality. There is no way to argue that you have come up with a totally unique work of art.

Have you ever dated an FTM?

Yes I have. It was only for a short while, but yep. Gay man trapped in a woman's body.

Is it always easier to destroy rather than create?

I guess that would depend on what you made it out of in the first place and how strong your will to destroy was compared to your will to create. I don't want to make a dichotomy between people here, but there are definitely those who are better and more excited doing one over the other.

Do you think France is wrong to ban the burka?

Oh, definitely. I think it is one thing to pass a law saying you can't force a woman to wear one, and another thing entirely to pass one saying she absolutely can't. That goes beyond helping a perceived injustice to women and defeats its own purpose by being just as restrictive as the problem it was trying to solve. Plus, I can't see it as anything more than another case of anti-Muslim attitudes that (so I have seen) are pretty rampant in France.

When you write, do you work from an outline, a synopsis, or just go for it?

For the most part I just go for it. Most of the time when I write, there is some force pushing me to write, be it a scene, a line, or just an image, and I hold on to that thing and begin writing. Eventually, when you look at that thing long enough, the story begins to form around it. At least, that's how it works with me. I have heard others say the same, though, so I think I'm in good company.

Do you prefer digital or analog clocks? Why do you prefer one over the other?

I prefer clocks that are correct and near by at all times. I have a distinct lack of clocks in my life, other than my alarm clock, so I kind of use my watch and cell phone more than anything else. I certainly don't mind analog clocks, and I don't mind digital ones. Except I hate that my current alarm clock's digital time is in bright blue and can keep me up at night.

What are some of things you feel you couldn't live without?

Internet, definitely, though I can go without it for extended periods of time (a few days) and not have a problem. I might even find it comfortable. But I do need some form of entertainment, whether it is TV, movies, a book, the internet, my cell phone, a notebook, anything. I don't tend to enjoy long moments where I'm not doing anything unless I'm sleeping or meditating.

Do you have a passport?

Yes. I've been out of the country a few times and needed it for a secondary ID a few times as well.

What's the longest you've ever gone without taking a shower?

A few days at a time. I think four might be my most. Usually if I'm skipping a shower it is because a guy asked me to or I'm too tired to take one before bed. I do go long times between washing my hair, however. There are plenty of times when I should wash it, but I don't have the time or energy to do so. I have gone entire weeks without opening a bottle of shampoo. 

On "wallowing in excess": The quote is from a PR/publishing/advertising consultant I knew at work. The thought was hers. She made the observation with regard to Truman Capote and all good artists.

Ah. A very interesting quote and one that certainly fits Capote and his contemporaries. I once dealt with a professor who somewhat idolized Capote the way some idolize Che Guevara.

Friday, January 6, 2012

Don't Fucking Tickle Me

In one of my first ever college classes I made the acquaintance of a rather flamboyant ballerino who was in his Junior year as a Performance Art major, with a focus on dance. And when I describe Marcel as flamboyant, I don't mean he was effeminate, but that he was just everywhere and always the center of attention when he was there, with his following of younger girls who shifted regularly, and who I never really spoke a single word to. You probably know the type: he was a Junior, but I knew I had a good chance of seeing him in the lounge of my Freshman dorm if I waited around long enough. If he saw me there I would surely be bugged by him regardless of what homework I was doing or who else I was with, and I would usually have to make it very clear and obvious to him that I wanted him to leave me alone before he actually would.

Even though Marcel's personality was not something I liked overly much, he was rather handsome, and someone I definitely would have enjoyed having sex with, if he had ever gotten past his social issues. For example, there was one time that he followed me back to my dorm room, even though I made repeated attempts to shake him loose, and even tried to force his way in, prompting me to rudely slam my body into the door to lock him out. I'm not sure what made him keep trying to push his way in, or on what level he thought that showed my interest in him, but not only did he not get the hint, he kept trying to make problems for me.

It got to the point hat I was almost positive that he was following me around and knew when I regularly showed up at certain areas of campus. He would show up in the dining hall when I was having dinner with my friends, sneaking in so he wouldn't have to pay, and interrupt my meals. He was frequently in the field house around the times I had swim practice, though he fortunately never tried to follow me into the swim team locker room. As cool as the guys on that team were about gay guys, I'm pretty sure they would not have been cool with Marcel's aggressive behavior.

He would also spend time regaling me with stories of his life while I was stuck in a social situation with him, wishing I could pull myself away. I'm not sure if he thought that the stories would make me like him more or not, but if he did, he picked the wrong stories. He could have enthralled me with stories of his dancing, or how he came to that particular creative choice. Maybe he could have asked me about myself a couple of times and actually gotten to know me. However, after hearing him whine and bitch about someone he knew (but I didn't) a few times I learned to just generally tune him out, or turn the conversation to something he knew nothing about, and continue talking with my friends as if he weren't there. I ignored his excesses, disparage his achievements in class (which, honestly, were few), and outright turn down any offers he gave me to join him at parties. I began to distance myself from him, leaving whenever he entered a room, pretending I wasn't in my dorm when he knocked (my roommate really appreciated that), the whole nine yards. I thought this would convince him that I wasn't interested, but he seemed to treat me like a scampering rabbit, he the wolf trying to dig me out of the woods. As far as he was concerned, I was prey to be hunted.

The thing about prey, of course, is that there is only so long a hunted animal will run before it lashes out at the hunter. Things came to a head between Marcel and I one afternoon when I was working on some homework in the lounge with two friends and he showed up to make a nuisance of himself. At this point, my friends, who at first had found his attentions towards me hilarious, were also getting annoyed by his almost constant presence, and we were all trying to ignore him as much as possible when he practically launched himself on me. He pushed me down on the couch and began tickling me everywhere he could. I've learned that I'm only ticklish with people I don't trust or who I don't want touching me. At that moment I really didn't want him touching me, and I definitely did not want him tickling me.

I tried to squirm away, but he was remarkably strong and I was incapacitated by trying to protect myself from his attack. He had tickled me in the past, something I abhorred, but he apparently found it a cute trait in me. Normally he would do it for a short while before stopping and letting me up, but this time he didn't stop. He kept tickling me even as I crawled off the couch and onto the floor, trying to slide away from him as best I could while telling him to stop. He ignored my pleas, even as I slammed my head into a nearby chair hard enough to see stars and skinned my elbow on the dirty rug. Even as I told him I was bleeding and hurt he kept going at me.

I felt time slow down and something shift inside of me. This was not the first time someone had forced their body upon me, though this was certainly the first time it was done with tickling. Past experience had taught me that there was something I could do to stop it, something I could do to get him off of me. In that moment I shifted from what had been a generally passive treatment of him to an outright aggressive attack. I took one moment to warn him off me, another to line up the shot, and then I punched him. I punched him in the nose hard enough to send his head flying back, and his surprised body followed. I stood up immediately and clenched my fists, ready to keep attacking if I had to. Experience had taught me to fight back, but it had also taught me to prepare for the fight to last longer than just one punch.

Marcel didn't fight back. He just sat back and blinked up at me, gaping in surprise. His nose was bleeding. I thought that I might have broken it, but really didn't care if I had. I simply glared down at him and said with every ounce of menace I could gather, "Don't fucking tickle me ever again. And don't you ever touch me without my permission." Without giving him a chance to respond, I turned to my two friends who had sat and watched the entire exchange without coming to my aid once and said, "I'm going to my room. Later." I made a quick stop to rinse out my still-bleeding elbow, and then went to my room and told my roommate we probably wouldn't have to worry about Marcel bothering us anymore.

That wasn't the very last time I saw him, but I didn't see much of him at all after that. It appeared that after getting punched in the face, he finally caught on that he had overstepped his bounds and backed off. He certainly stopped conveniently showing up wherever I was, and he never tried to tickle me ever again. Sometimes I wondered if I had overreacted to the situation, but I know that I had every right to punch him that day. I'm not saying he would have tried to sexually assault me. I did, however, feel that it was in my best interests to nip his aggression in the bud before it became something I couldn't deal with.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Excuses for the Inexcusable Absence

I feel like a chick cautiously emerging from the shell here, but yes, I am back from my extended leave of sorts and finally getting back into blogging. I apologize to anyone who has emailed, commented, messaged, whatevered me since I kind of fell off the internet, but the opening of 2012 found me a lot busier than I had expected, and not in the ways I had expected either. I am slowly but surely getting around to replying to everyone. I am also slowly but surely getting around to reading and commenting on all the blogs I have missed reading recently. I worked overtime a lot of the last two weeks and on the days I wasn't working, I was traveling and dealing with the inevitable drama of my family, so when I finally made it back to Boston and got some time off, I spent most of it resting and trying to get the constant ache in my feet to go away. In fact, after working a solid 10.5 hour shift with no break to rest or eat on NYE, and ringing in 2012 with my lonely bottle of rum that I bought on the way home, I spent most of January 1st sleeping, then waking, then sleeping more. Glamorous, I know.

So what have I been up to lately, besides work? Kind of you to ask, but if you're expecting some fun sex story to follow, I'm sorry to disappoint. I had some casual texts with the professor I fucked back in November, but nothing came of that, and I somewhat suspect that he is either busy or not interested anymore. Not sure which. I also made a few tentative plans that all fell through. In other words: not much is going on at the moment.

But I'm hoping that there is much fun to be had in the near future. I've got some plans set up to go to a leather bar on Saturday, if I don't have work and if I can still catch a ride with the guy offering. If that all works out, I am sure I'll have at least SOME hot story to tell. I also have some wonderful plans to spend time making all kinds of sex with an amazing man I'm meeting up with halfway through January. He is a sexy submissive I have been talking to for a very long time and finally meeting him will be an amazing culmination and release of sexual tension for the both of us. Can't wait to share all the hot times with you guys.

I also managed to get a lot of fun books to read and review for you guys like I did back in September with The Complete Gay and Lesbian Manners. That was a popular feature, and I haven't had a chance to do much more with it since then. I blame my graduate studies for that one.

Anyway, I am planning on getting back into the swing of things with the blog now that things have settled down for me for the time being. I just hope they stay settled. Then again, they say that how you spend Jan 1 predicts the year to come, and I spent it sleeping. So that must mean something good, right?