Wednesday, February 29, 2012

A Unexpected Change

T.J. was the brother of a friend of a friend when I first met him. The friend of a friend is now a full friend, but T.J. has always been on the sidelines of my attention. This was mostly because he and I only ran into each other about three times a year, including a long weekend in the summer when a large group of teens would get together and hang out. He was younger by about a year, and way less mature than the rest of us. So when we were in a large group together, he would frequently be on the outskirts, always leaving at the earliest chance he had to hang out with his own friends. It was no big loss, he wasn't very close to me or my friends. He was funny, but not exactly blessed with common sense when it came to the right things to do and say.

In fact, the only real impression T.J. ever really had on my life was a really fun afternoon we spent together having sex one summer a few years ago. It was one of those quick flings that happen every now and then when a person you sort of know just happens to be in the right place at the right time. This time it happened to be the hotel room when no one else was around and we were both sweaty and needing a shower. Sitting around in just towels turned into a fun look through the hotel's on-demand porn, which turned into a realization that T.J. was very interested in cock.

It was news to me, though apparently people that knew him well pretty much knew that he was no stranger to sucking and fucking other guys. I had just never spent enough time with him or shown enough attention to him to figure it out.

We started jerking off while watching a (fairly bad) porn. But soon all that pretense was dropped and we were making out and rolling around on the bed. I loved grabbing his afro in my hands and pulling. It was so soft and so squishy that I kept the make out session going a little long just so I could play with it a while more. Not the worst reason I've made out with someone, but definitely one of the more unusual.

He was a rather attractive guy. Thin, but not too skinny. His ass was nice and plump and screaming to be spanked. He had big nipples that were very sensitive, and his lips left big wet marks on my skin. His cock was a nice, thick piece of meat with a head that stayed under his long foreskin even when rock hard.

The sex itself was not great. Neither one of us was prepared to bottom, nor did we want to in case one of our friends showed up. So it came down to us on the bed in a sixty-nine while I gave my usual good blowjob and he struggled to suck on half of my cock. He had experience with guys, but by this time in my life I had a ton of experience and was showing him up. But we both came and that was enough to get us both relaxed.

Unfortunately we were sort of walked in on together a little while later while sitting on the bed in just our underwear. Because of the way our group was (read: overly-interested in drama) we became the token couple for the rest of the time there. It even got to the point where one mutual friend who was engaged began talking about us going to her wedding together, even going so far as to talk about how handsome we both would look dancing together in our matching tuxes. Things got a little awkward when we had to explain to everyone that we were not an item. Things got more awkward when I had to explain to his current boyfriend that he and I were not an item. Eventually we said good-bye at the end of the weekend, and moved on with our lives.

Ironically that was the last time I saw him in person. He went off to college and I went back to college, and we just never bothered to stay in contact. Very recently, however, I learned that he has gotten fairly ugly recently, apparently because he drinks a lot of iced coffee every day and no longer works out. He has also flunked out of college and basically stated that he has no interest in furthering his education. Oh, and he is also engaged to marry a girl who is said to be a real bitch by just about everyone who has met her.

Learning this was kind of a surprise. I thought, "Where is the cute gay guy I once had a nice afternoon with?" What could have happened to this kid who, while not incredibly smart, still was intelligent and funny? How did he go from the guy I connected with for that short time to this man who is hitting every boulder on his way to rock bottom? It isn't the first time an old lover has turned up married or engaged or even with kids. It is the first time that the change has been so shocking and dramatic.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Dude Looks Like a Lady

"You look so good with long hair," he says to me, clearly a little drunk.

"Thanks," I respond with a smile. I'm not against giving a guy a smile when he compliments me, even if half the time I get a compliment I think the person must be lying to me.

"You don't look like a girl at all," he says a little louder. It is less of a compliment and more of a statement of awe at this stage.

I roll my eyes before turning again. This is something I hear quite a bit, the surprise that a guy with long hair might actually look masculine. The idea seems to be new for some people. Strangely enough, I got it less out in Ohio and the Midwest where I was one of the only guys with long hair than I do here in New England. And here, I'm not in much of a minority. I frequently see at least one guy with long hair when I'm out and about, but people still seem surprised.

"Yeah, I know. Strange how something that is supposed to be girlie can actually make a guy look more manly," I reply to him. My standard reply for that statement.

He paused and I thought he was going to walk away, so I turned back to my own business. But he wasn't finished. "Why do you put it in a pony tail? You should let it hang down."

I was starting to get bugged with this guy. I looked him up and down quickly, taking in the smell of him, which wasn't pleasant, and the sight, which was definitely a mess. He was wearing a coat and a hoodie, neither of which were on straight. His eyes were glazed over, and his pants were sagging down further than anyone could ever have wanted. I didn't know if he was flirting with me or not, but either way, I wanted nothing from him.

"I tie it back so it doesn't get in the way, or if it is windy. I don't like it blowing in my face."

"Oh," he said. I waited a moment to see if he had anything else to throw at me, but he shuffled away. I once again ignored him and, after settling myself a bit from my irritation, even began to forget about him. But he hadn't gone for good. He left his group of friends and came back up to me, this time tapping me on he shoulder to get my attention before asking, "What would you do if I cut your pony tail off?" He had a dumb grin on his face suggesting he was barely holding back some laughter, and he breath was making a quick line for my nose.

I looked him in the eye and very calmly said, "I would punch you so hard that you'd swallow your teeth."

At that moment a few of his friends came to save him from himself, dragging him away from me. One of them stayed to apologize to me, however. This guy was handsome. He had a nice square jaw, one that you used to see on all the old movie stars. His black hair was playfully mussed and just begging me to run my hands through it. His shoulders were broad and his clothes fit in all the right places, giving me a nice hint as to what might lie inside his jeans, waiting to be set free.

I started fumbling my words in my acceptance of his apology. Of course I forgave his friend, he just had too much to drink. We all do blah blah blah. I was babbling. Saying as much as possible to keep him there. When I realized this fact, I had to stop and wonder why I was doing it. I awkwardly told him to have a good night, and stared at his ass while he walked away, and then it hit me. I had a crush on him. It wasn't just that I wanted to fuck him, but I was actually charmed out of my pants by him. I felt like a school girl. And then I was struck again, this time by the realization that I was comparing myself to a school girl when the whole incident had started with the drunk guy telling me I looked like a man. I started laughing out loud and went through the rest of the night with a smile on my face and a chubby in my pants thinking about that sexy guy.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Formspring and Where is the Cake?

This may seem very strange and random to my readers, but it is something that has been weighing on my mind a lot recently. I want cake. I would specifically like a vanilla cake with strawberry frosting. I have no idea where this drive is coming from, but I have been craving that particular cake for well over a week now. And it isn't the normal, "Oh, that would be nice to have," craving that we all get once and a while. It is a strong, constant background craving. And certain things will bring it right to the front of my mind.

Take last night, for instance. I was riding home on the subway after taking myself out on a date to a nice movie, and someone near me was wearing a vanilla scent. Normally I try not to think about the smells I encounter on the subway, but it was like this scent had rose off the person in a cartoon cloud and wobbled over to my face where it turned into a hand and cocked a finger at me. Immediately it was as if I could taste the cake in my mouth, sliding down my throat. It was like a taste hullucination. And it didn't help my craving at all.

Let's face it, boys and girls, Ace has to make a cake. I must become the Ace of Cakes, if you will. I'm going to get downright Betty Crocker up in here. Just talking about this is making me drool a bit. So I should probably stop. But hey, now you guys know the easiest way to Ace's heart is through his stomach. Preferably with cake.

So on to this week's set of questions, which have absolutely nothing to do with cake. As always, you can ask me anything at my Formspring page, or send me a friendly email (I don't bite...unless that's what you're looking for). I love answering these, so please, ask anything you really want to know. I would recommend you not ask things you don't want to know, as I'll probably still answer them.

I have no idea why I'm being so silly today. Probably a despirate need for cake. Anyway, here are this week's questions:


Do you have any regrets about 2011?

Yes. Many. I don't want to talk about it.

Was 2011 a good or bad year for you?

There were certainly some very good points and I met some very good people. But there were also a lot of bad things, more than usual for me. So it is possibly a toss-up.

How often do you masturbate?

Depends on how much sex I have had that day. Good rule of thumb is at least once a day, though I do sometimes go long periods without jerking off or fucking.

If you have a brother, did the two of you ever fool around? Do you consider that hot or gross?

Don't have a brother, but I did have sex with a friend and his brother. Not at the same time, though. I think it can be hot if both guys are into it.

What is your age and what is the oldest person in which you've had sex ?

I'm 22 and I have had sex with guys in their 60s. I don't tend to descriminate based on age.

While getting your cock sucked, do you like the sucker to go deep or concentrate more on the head?

I prefer the cocksucker to be skilled in a variety of techniques. It takes a lot for me to cum just from a blow job, and if the sucker only does one trick the entire time, he is going to be really disappointed when I don't cum. Usually I have to jack myself to a finish anyway.

What's your favorite reality tv show?

I like Tabitha's Salon Takeover or I guess it is just Tabitha Takes Over now. I really don't watch much of any other reality show, though. So it isn't so much my favorite, as it is the only one I watch.

Your christmas was not as naughty as you would have liked, it seems. Were any of your presents nice (my hope)?

I gave myself a lot of nice gifts, and I got some very nice things from readers (thank you!). However, I have hit that age where family gifts become more practical things to start your home and friends are too busy paying for food to pay for gifts. So mostly my gifts were thoughtful and that's more than I expected anyway.


That's all the questions for this week. Thanks for asking them. Oh, and someone bake me a cake, please.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Weekend Recovery Part 2: The Exhausting

As I said in Wednesday's post, my hook-up with the Professor left me feeling more relaxed and happy than I had been in a long time. Physically I was still a bit on edge from all the work I had been doing the past couple of weeks, but mentally the night was like a deep tissue massage in all the right places. He had asked me to stay over, but I felt it would be better to sleep in my own bed that night to take the most advantage of how blissfully tired I was, as I never sleep well in a new bed. Especially with a body next to mine.

I woke up late the next morning, skipping my usual Sunday morning Formspring post in the interest of taking advantage of the chance to be lazy and slow waking up. But shortly after I woke up, I was getting hit up by an attractive bear cub interested in hooking up. I was very turned on by his pictures, some of which included him in a nice, tight baseball uniform. He also sent me pictures of his hairy chest and nice, round ass. He complimented my ass as well, and told me that even though he was a bottom, he loved to rim a hairy hole. Perfect. I was definitely interested in meeting up with him, and thinking that I had nothing else going on, I made plans to meet up with him that day.

I had just gotten naked to shower and wash my hair before my hook-up when I got a call from a friend telling me about a party that night a short trip out of the city. I had known about the party, but not really made any plans to go. My friend, however, was begging me, relying on my sense of chivalry by saying that she was either going to get lost on the bus or make some bad life choices at the party if I wasn't accompanying her. I sighed, but eventually gave in, knowing that it was probably a mistake to go to a party immediately after a hook-up, but partially not caring at all.

Remembering the baseball pictures, I wore a jockstrap under my jeans and pulled on my new pair of brown harness boots. I met Dillon outside the apartment and hopped in his car to make the short trip to his place which took us through a lot of interesting back roads I probably would never have gone down otherwise. I'm not convinced it got us there faster, but he seemed to think so.

Getting into his apartment was very interesting. He lives on the second floor of a house, and the steps leading up to his level didn't end in a porch, but actually onto the roof of the first floor's entryway. I was torn between thinking it was very strange and very cool to split a house in that way. His apartment, like mine and most that I ever go to, was packed tightly with more furniture and items than one would reasonably expect to keep in there. But it also had that lived-in feeling that makes you feel at home. It was cluttered, but you weren't worried about sitting in anything nasty. You got the feeling that he knew where everything was, even if no one else would.

It didn't take us long to get into his bedroom, which was dominated to one side by a king sized bed, and to the other side by a desk and the usual closet clutter that inevitably ends up on the floor in a bachelor's place. The headboard of his bed had a mirror on it, which I took a moment to privately smile at, never mentioning it to him. Once we were both comfortable on the bed, I quickly turned all my attentions to kissing him and taking his clothes off. He wasted no time in matching me with each piece of clothing, making it almost a race to see who could get the other naked first. We stopped with me wearing just my jockstrap and him wearing just his slider shorts (padded shorts to make sliding hurt less in baseball), both of us stopping for a breathless moment to take joy in what the other was wearing.

When we were both naked, he got on top of me, his weight a comfortable pressure on me. He rubbed his body on mine and my hand snaked its way back to his ass. My pointer finger, newly clipped, met very little resistance as it slid dry into his hole. It was warm and inviting, but also not nearly as cleaned out as I would have liked. We both quickly figured out that I was probably not going to fuck him, even if we didn't say anything to each other.

But that didn't stop the heat of the moment. Eventually we found ourselves in a sixty-nine position with his uncut cock pressed deep in my mouth and throat, and his tongue doing amazing things to my asshole. He had been skilled at sucking my cock, but his ass-eating skills is what I remember most, even days later. He chowed down on my hole, almost never pulling up for air, for a good forty minutes. I'll be damned if it didn't feel like longer though. And every so often he would pull out a new trick or angle that would make me moan and take his cock down to the root, my quick breath filling me with his clean, sweaty scent.

I started riding his tongue hard, amazed at the sensations. He even started pressing a finger to my hole, though it did not get very far in. I was in anal heaven. I lifted myself off of him, pulling his head up to meet mine, my tongue swabbing at his, trying to get the heady taste of my own ass out of him. He pulled back and with a smile that was all about desire he said, "You're a dirty boy, aren't you?"

"Was I not clear about that from the start?" I replied as I pushed my ass back over his mouth.

Shortly after that exchange my hole and balls started to throb pleasantly and I realized that I was getting close to an orgasm. It was a shock, considering my only stimulus had been his mouth on my hole and my hand occasionally grabbing my dick. I spewed my seed all over his chest and stomach, moaning and still managing to keep my sucking rhythm up. Shortly after I came to a jerking finish, his cum began pouring into my mouth. He shot a load with good volume, filling my mouth up twice, and then giving me still more cum. I held on to the last bit and once again pulled his head to mine, kissing his ass-flavored mouth with my cum-filled mouth. I fed him his own cum and he fed me my ass, and we both fell to the bed exhausted in each others arms.

He dropped me off at my friends apartment, and she and I began the bus trip to the party. I was overly aware, as I walked into the party, that my breath still smelled of cock and ass, and I immediately began to drink in an attempt to hide the scent, hoping that no one noticed. The early drinking never really ended, and eventually I had to be helped out of my clothes and into a guest bed by a couple of the guys at the party. I slept for a bit while things wound down, but woke up early enough to catch my friend talking her way into the bedroom of the brother of our host, and she didn't emerge again until early in the morning. I was no longer worried about my breath smelling like cock. I wasn't the only one with that issue anymore.

I went out with the others who had stuck around at the party for a brunch the next morning, and then didn't find myself back at my own apartment until three in the afternoon. I was tired, I was spent, I was still a little sick to my stomach, and I was totally and completely empty of the stress of the previous weeks. Of course, it meant that I needed some major recovery time. I'm glad to say that, almost a week later, I am finally back to my regular self. You could almost say I'm ready for another weekend just like it.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Weekend Recovery Part 1: The Romantic

It is almost ironic that when I am finally past my long streak of extra work hours I still get yanked away from my blog readers for much longer than I would ever want. I do apologize for the lack of posts recently, and I promise I am alive and well, and looking forward to getting back to a regular schedule with posts. A lot sort of fell behind on this blog with me entertaining my boy and then the work schedule explosion, and I am hoping to pick up some of those pieces and get things going. Last weekend was somewhat of an extended hiccup, and I'm still recovering from everything that went down.

As I entered last weekend, all I really was hoping for was a relaxing weekend in to get rid of the stress and body pains that had built up. I was cruising guys online, hoping to find someone who might be interested, and even catching a few. But I've sadly had more guys string me along recently than actually have desire to meet up. In fact, I had two guys chatting with me who were clearly just jerking off. The first one was asking me about whether I liked to tie guys up. I was open, explaining that I like to be dominant, and thinking that he was a newbie looking for some training. But he soon started asking me about forced sex and even forced fisting, and I eventually just ended the conversation by telling him I wasn't interested in cyber sex. The second guy was a bit more subtle, and I didn't catch on at first. But his frequent remarks about his "straight friend" who wears sweat pants and jock straps all the time soon made it clear to me that some fantasy situation was being developed. I never got fully let in on it, but it involved being in a sweaty jock, that's for sure.

But then I got hit up by somewhat of a blast from the past. The Professor, who I had sex with (giving him his first real bottoming experience) this past November contacted me. We had both been very busy lately, but both had been thinking about each other as well. The contact came at a time when I was joking with a friend about my own college's lack of attractive professors, as well as my ability to seek them out at other colleges. As if summoned, a few hours later, I was making plans to see the Professor Saturday evening.

He picked me up at my apartment in his older car. It is one of those cars that look like they are falling apart, but are actually in perfect working condition on the inside. I love cars like that. Cars that are dependable, but maybe not the most flashy of cars to have. I'm not sure what it is, but they always seem to have smells and stories to them. It seemed a fitting car for the Professor, also maybe not the most attractive man on the outside, but so wonderful on the inside. He protests when I tell him he is a good person, arguing the exact opposite, in fact. But it is clear if you take a moment to look at him that there is an amazing person just a layer below, and he is almost constantly poking his head out.

When we got to the Professor's place, he and I caught up while he prepared a wonderful pasta dinner for the two of us. It was wonderful, though I felt a little bad that my dietary restrictions prevented us from eating the cheese-filled ravioli he had planned on making. It was the first time in weeks that either one of us had sat down at a table and actually had a good dinner with another person, and we both relished the moment even as we felt unaccustomed and almost uncomfortable in it. It was like we had both been busy for so long that we couldn't quite remember how to relax. But we were reminding each other at that table.

After dinner he fussed about a bit as a good host will do. We ended up cuddling on his couch, watching an older BBC comedy he has on DVD. As the night wore on and the episodes went by, our positions went from sitting and cuddling to more and more reclined, until I was basically laying on top of him as he gently breathed in and out. I could tell that he was getting a little tired, and we were both so comfortable that it would have been so easy to sleep. It was also very easy for me to lift my head, look into his eyes, and bend down to kiss him, my hand opening his shirt and reaching in. So easy that it was almost hard to end our romantic make-out session to move to a more comfortable location.

By the time he dropped me off back at my apartment I was feeling peaceful and almost high. I had been talking for a while that I needed to blow off the steam from my long work hours, but had always expected it to be blown in a much more aggressive, almost violent fucking. I had no idea that a romantic night with the Professor was exactly what I needed to wander off to an amazing sleep, having shucked off my clothes and my stress along the way.

The rest of the weekend, however, was not so slow and not so gentle. On me or those I was with.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Eating Ass 101

Yesterday I had the pleasure of exchanging emails with one of my female readers (yes, I have some, and they rock) on the topic of eating ass. To summarize her email, she is currently in a relationship with a man who is encouraging her to play with him anally. She wanted to start with some analingus, and she wanted some tips on how to go about it. I gave her my tips, and then I thought to myself, "Why not write a blog about how you go about eating ass?" So here is my attempt at describing how I eat ass. Obviously this will differ with the situation and the people involved, so this is certainly not a perfect guide for it, but it is a start. If I come up with any other hints, I'll put them in a later post.

To start off with, I should mention that I am tongue tied (meaning the thing that connects my tongue to the bottom of my mouth is shorter than normal). While this doesn't stop me from eating ass and kissing well, it does change up my strategy from what I know others use and have used on me. In a lot of ways, the only major difference between what I can do and what others can do is that I can't penetrate as deeply with my tongue. Still, I don't get many complaints with my technique. I also should mention that I went down on a girl long before I ever ate an ass, so my technique is somewhat similar to how I go about cunnilingus.

How I always start, is I will spread the cheeks apart so that I can get a good look at the hole I'm about to work on. This serves two purposes. The first, is it gets me horned up looking at a hole I'm about to play with, knowing that I'm going to have the lips quivering with pleasure shortly. The other purpose is to get a good look at how clean the outside of the hole is. If I see any mess or some toilet paper stuck to the outside, I will ask the guy to clean up a little better before I continue. Remember, eating fecal matter is not good for you and can lead to serious illness. Eating ass is great, but you have to do it smart.

After I get a good look, I'll bend in and gently blow some cool air over the hole, enjoying the body jumping that usually causes. After I'll inhale through my nose, making sure to note if there is any nasty smell. The man who first got me to eat ass told me that if it doesn't smell clean, chances are that it isn't. Even if you can't see it, the mess might be just inside and you want to be cautious. A clean ass will still have a scent, but it is a heady, earthy scent that you should and will learn to love. That smell is connected to the wonderful flavor of the hole, that metallic tinge that turns me on so much.

If I have time and can hold myself back, I like to lick around the hole, not coming in contact with it at first. The teasing will make the man shake in anticipation, and maybe even try to shift position to get your tongue in that sweet spot. Don't let him. Analingus is as much about your own oral pleasure as it is his anal pleasure. I have a bit of an oral fixation, so I like to drag this part out, maybe nibble on the cheeks a bit, or give him a hickey on the meaty part. I'll blow more cool air over the hole and even graze it with my fingers a bit. Tease and tantalize and he'll be going crazy.

When you are finally ready to dive in, don't waste time. Go for it without any warning. I like to push as far in as possible at once, wiggling the tongue around between the outer and inner lips, rubbing around the hole. Stroking the tongue across the hole and around the sides keeps things in motion, as does rubbing with hands, your body, whatever. Every so often, I like to draw back and admire my handy work, see how the hole looks. And when I do I may blow more air on the hole, experimenting with speed and warmth. I also would take this time to play with depth, speed, all the little variables. Really get into it and enjoy the moment. Moaning and humming will cause fun vibrations to course over the hole. There is a lot to do, and shifting into a new position will open up even more opportunities. If he likes getting fingered, push a finger in and keep licking and spitting around it. Try and see if you can get your tongue in along your finger.

And of course, make sure that you're both having fun. The man being licked can be vocal either with words or just moaning. Be attentive to what elicits the most moans and do more. Always be willing to experiment. Like with every other part of sex, the more open minded you are, the more fun you are likely to have. And trust me, the happy guy will be more than willing to return the kindness when it is time for your pleasure to take center stage.

Hope that was helpful to you all. If anyone has any questions or wants to know more, feel free to ask either in the comments section or in an email. I'm always happy to help.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Happy Valentine's Day!


OK, OK, I give in. Have a happy Valentine's Day, all of you in relationships. While I may not LOVE the idea of Valentine's Day, and I may not have any plans due to work, I do wish everyone a special day. And even if you don't have any special man or woman in your life, please take some time to show love to the person who matters most: you. I know we don't always give ourselves the love we need and deserve, so I encourage you all to take some time today to love yourself. I promise to do the same.


Because I don't have many great Valentine's Day stories (I'm not lucky; even in relationships something usually causes a problem with making things happen), I am reposting the blog I wrote about last year's Valentine's Day with my Romeo (click the link for other posts about him). Honestly, it was probably the best Valentine's Day so far in my life. I would be remiss if I didn't pay the proper attention to what happened between him and I only a year ago. For those who have read it before, thanks for indulging me. For those who haven't, I hope you enjoy.


This last winter was a fairly slow one for me. I got caught up in a lot of problems that stem from applying to graduate schools, like the INSANELY long essays about yourself and your likes and dislikes or the fact that they all seem to want the same thing, just in a totally different way. I had a fairly regular fuck in the form of a boy on my campus who is almost not worth mentioning. I don't mean to lessen his impact on my life, he just really didn't have any. He was one of those guys who really just doesn't understand sex too well, always trying to move into uncomfortable positions and either talking about school and homework during sex or not giving me any verbal contact at all. Obviously not the ideal person to fuck around with, but in the winter, for states that have fairly bad winters, it can be really hard to find someone to fuck with. So a lot of us get with who we can and stick out the cold months. I remember that Rob the Breeder began writing about Spencer around the time that I started pulling away from my easy fuck, and I remember wishing someone that special would appear in my life.

He did. At first I didn't realize it, but he was there. He and I had many conversations about our mutual attraction (though, initially he was more attracted to me than I to him). He was very caring and had just gotten out of a very serious relationship on his end that turned out to be a fling for the other guy. I was upfront with him about my situation. I didn't know where I was going to be once the school year was over, but there was a good chance I wouldn't stay in Ohio, even if no grad schools accepted me. I told him that I would never expect him to get serious with me because he had two kids already and I would not have him follow me out of state and leave them behind. He kept telling me it was ok, but I balked and avoided him. I said that I wasn't interested in a long term relationship at that time. And I wasn't. I was going to be leaving the state for good in May. What would have been the point of starting anything in January?

So we remained mostly friends while I continued applying to different colleges. My last due date for an application was in early February, and once that was done, I felt like I had time to breathe. My Romeo had asked about Valentine's Day, but like I had been, I said no. I didn't want a date, I didn't want a boyfriend, I just wanted to be alone. My roommate was spending the night at his girlfriend's dorm so I would have until early morning to be alone (my roommate, being a good Christian, never stayed the night). I turned on the TV and got ready for a stress-free evening.

There was a knock at my door. I walked over, not sure who it was. Most of my friends would text before coming over, so I half-assumed it was just my roommate back early after a fight with his girlfriend. But when I opened the door there was Romeo, standing there with a stuffed gorilla holding a red heart and a fake rose. "I know you don't want a boyfriend," he said, "But I would still like it if you would be my Valentine."

I melted. Here was this man, standing vulnerable outside my apartment, holding the sweetest, cheap gift anyone had ever given me. I pulled him inside and immediately began making out with him, holding him to me, happy to have a receptive body around my own. I had wanted a boyfriend, I had wanted romance. Hell, I had probably wanted a long term relationship after being single for so long. It almost hurt to let him hold me, but I loved every moment of it. He had seduced me so instantaneously that I hadn't had a chance to block it. All I knew was that we were on my couch passionately kissing and loving.

We ended up at his apartment where he made us dinner of spaghetti and garlic bread. It was delicious even though I was not super hungry having eaten a ton of chocolate before he showed up. After dinner we climbed the stairs to his room and we made love. There was no fucking or being fucked, there was just two bodies rolling around on top of each other and two men deeply in love exploring everywhere they could. He was a little chubby, but not in an unattractive way. His warmth felt good after the cold walk over, and his tongue ring clacked the inside of my teeth, sending strange shivers into my body every time. He enjoyed my hair and my nipples and could hardly keep his hands off my cock.

After what felt like hours of us rolling around together we both came to powerful orgasms, and I licked our mixed cum off his belly. In the dying minutes of Valentine's day we lay together in his bed, holding hands and looking in each other's eyes. In that moment I was very much in love with him and I knew that we would be great together. But that moment did not last, and neither did our relationship. After all, he was still looking to settle down with a man and I was on my way out. Neither of us were going to change in the coming months together. But in that moment, on that night, we were perfectly together and happier than I could remember being. The rest is a story for another day.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Formspring and Single Awareness Day





It is that time of the year again. That day we all wait for anxiously. The day after Valentine's Day when all the drug stores have the candy for 50% price! OK, OK, I admit it. I'm not much of a romantic when it comes to Valentine's Day. If commercials never reminded me, I think I would forget it existed. I just find the idea of people worrying about what they're doing romantically on a specific day to be, well, unromantic. After all, it is just a day, same as any other. We should tell those we love that we love them regularly. Not just on and special day. I think that the most romantic thing ever to happen to me on Valentine's Day was last year, and that was my Romeo's doing, not my own (you can look in the tags for the post on him).

That does not mean, however, that I am not romantic. In fact, I was watching the Graham Norton show last night, excited that one of the guests was Dame Judy Dench (a favorite actress of mine). The musical guest was Will Young, a singer I had never heard of before, though apparently he was the first winner of the Idol show in England. He sang a song that resonnated with me because of how much it reminded me of my loves past. Not just Romeo, who truly will always be on my mind on Valentine's day, but all the people I have loved and lost. And those I love now. The song is called "Silent Valentine," and I recommend you all give it a listen.


Life is, after all, about love, and I am never sorry to have loved people. I refuse to regret that emotion.

Anyway, enough of that. Today is my only day off until I finish this large chunk of extra work days and long hours I'm still stuck in. My plans are to relax and try to have some fun before going in to work early tomorrow morning and leaving whenever they finally decide to let me escape. So without too much further ado, here are the Formspring questions I have lined up for this week.

As always, you can ask me anything on my Fromspring page, whether you have an account or not. I also take questions in my email, if you prefer to ask me there. I love answering these questions, they give me a chance to expose a side of myself that might not normally come out. So please, ask anything on your mind!


Did you have a favorite holiday gift as a kid? What was it?

If I did, I honestly can't remember what it was. I had some Lego sets that I think were gifts and a matchbox car road set I loved to play with. Honestly, after a while my family started giving me those basic gifts and then I would go get myself something after.

Have you ever found yourself in the position of willingly giving up something you never thought you'd give up? if so, what was it?

Yes, I have, and I hate to say this because of how it sounds, but I have given up friends and loved ones before. Sadly part of the package when moving far away every few years like I have. Even in this era of easy communication, some people are hard to keep in touch with, and you end up having to let them go.

Would you say that people with high IQs are typically more, no more, or less sexed than average? Do you see any erotic characteristics that appear more or less often in bright people? ("Bright" needn't apply only to those who test well -- though it cert

Honestly, I have known people with very high IQs who had no social skills whatsoever. Unfortunately for them, social skills are pretty important to getting sex, even if it is just skills like recognizing when someone is flirting with you and being able to flirt back. That being said, I'm not sure intelligence has much to do with sexual prowess, but I definitely prefer smart guys as bed partners to dumb eye candy.

Do you cook or eat a traditional New Year's meal? here in the South I am having fresh collard greens, black eye peas, cream style corn, homemade baked macaroni and cheese and BBQ pork chops.

I have honestly never heard of have a traditional meal on New Years. It has always been a low-key day for me. I rarely do anything of consequence.

Do you have any New Years resolutions you are making this year?

Nope. It has been years since I made one. I find the idea a little schmaltzy and silly with the whole starting anew and whatnot. I generally am of the mindset that you should just start bettering yourself, regardless of what day it is.

Do you live near your family?

If by "near" you mean a few hours drive, then yes. I actually live closer to my family than I really like, but I love Boston so there isn't much to do about it.

Did you buy yourself anything special for Christmas this year?

Generally if I get anything "special" for Christmas, it is something I bought for myself. I'm at the age where people really don't buy me things anymore. I will say, however, that I got some really nice gifts from readers of my blog, and I did get myself a few movies and books I wanted. So it was a nice haul this year.


That's all for this week. I'm off to relax, maybe clean up some of the mess I have made, and get ready for more work. Yay!

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Mirrors

I have to admit that I'm very, very unlikely to meet up with anyone looking just to J/O. Most guys that say that fall in to one of two categories: 1) they are honestly looking just for a buddy to jack off to porn with, someone they'll only sneak looks at and make very little, if any, contact with; 2) they start out just jacking off but then quickly shift to oral and then right on down to fucking. I'm not a huge fan of playing games like that, I like knowing ahead of time what to expect. If someone has set up a fantasy, I'm more than happy to let it play out. But if the intention is to lie to me about what will happen, and then blame me for taking things up a notch (trust me, it happens) then I really am not interested.

There is, however, a third category of experience that can make the J/O-only guys at least worth a closer look. When you do hit the gold that is this third category, the results can be amazingly sexy.

Kent's skin was a lot darker in person than it had been in his pictures, and I got the full look of it as his answered the door in just his boxers. My skin, always a pasty, pale no matter how much time I spend in the sun, was a perfect juxtaposition to his. His hair was much shorter than mine, and his eyes were like jade in the sockets. We were right about the same height, however, and both of us had a slim, slightly muscled build, though he was smooth to my fur. It made us seem almost like total opposites to each other. I really enjoy the way my body looks when I am beside black or tan guys. There is a stark contrast that makes the lines of our bodies almost glow. I knew just by looking at him that I was going to enjoy his company very much.

When we had spoken before, Kent had told me that he wanted to only jerk off. But he didn't want to jerk off to porn, he wanted to watch me jerk off. I was to be like live porn for him. Like a cam2cam session, only in person. I had been hesitant, but his excitement at the prospect had come through while he was talking about it. I had gotten excited just listening to him. And I do tend to get turned on by people watching me.

We stripped naked a stood in front of each other, just looking at each other. I kept thinking about brushing my hand over his body, and the thought of that alone was enough to get me rock hard. His own cock was throbbing out from his hips while he looked me over. I almost felt embarrassed by the openness with which he looked at me. It was a strange experience, knowing I had come to be seen, but then worrying about what I was showing. His black eyes bored into me in the sunlit room, and I felt like even if I were covered, I'd still be naked to him. Whatever he saw in me, however, he must have liked. He licked his lips and began to feel his body up.

I watched him closely too. At first trying to match the intense gaze that he had given me. But I knew I liked Kent. I had known I would like him just by talking to him. So instead of matching his gaze, I began to match his movements. He would run his right hand up and down his torso, pinching a nipple at the top and stopping just shy of his cock at the bottom. I did the same thing, only with my left hand. His left hand stroked his face and ears, my right hand stroked mine. I was determined to mirror his every move, allowing him to pull me into his pleasure, to fall in sync with him. I let his pleasure be my pleasure, and when his movements did something that really made me feel good, I let him know with an appreciative moan. He would do the same.

At some point we became so locked in to each other's pleasure that I was no longer sure if he was leading and I was the mirror or if I were taking control. Or, maybe, no one was in control. We had somehow, in our mirror play, actually become mirrors of each other, anticipating the next move the other would make so that it felt seamless when we moved to match. I was incredibly hard with this realization and dripping precum at my usual intense level. His own cock would throb and let a string of precum dangle tantalizingly from the tip, stretching with a bobbing motion.

We had moved closer. Close enough to touch very easily, but neither of us made the connection. I could feel his heat matching mine and his movements brushed the air against my body. Every time his eyes locked with mine it was another pull, another chain hooking us together in our mounting passion. I was getting more and more lost in the moment, allowing myself to stop questioning what was so hot about what we were doing and just experience it. It was very freeing to just let his soft sounds block out my own inner thoughts and doubts. I knew I was doing something good because he was clearly aroused, and my own pleasure was clear. I could stop worrying, stop thinking, and just focus on the pleasure.

Once I finally let myself go, I felt my orgasm build quickly. I could tell he was getting close too. His entire body had broken out in a sheet of sweat and his balls had pulled up tightly. He and I were both focusing on our cocks more, and making our strokes more rapid. Our breathing sped up, no longer in sync simply because we were hitting the frenzy point.

Then, right as I was about to announce my orgasm, his hand flashed out and grabbed my cock. I quickly grabbed his too, and then there was no time for words. We both shot our loads, our legs buckling, I stumbled and our bodies finally touched, making my cock shoot out even more at the relief of contact. He caught me and we held each other, sticky with sweat and cum. We eventually came to the floor, resting together on his rug, both completely exhausted. Both with huge, matching grins.

Monday, February 6, 2012

The Last Day with My Boy

Before we dive in to this blog post, I would like to wish my amazingly good (and good-looking) friend Rob the Breeder a very happy birthday today. If you aren't already a reader of his blog (as I know a lot of you cross over between us), please take the time to visit his blog and leave him a nice birthday comment. Or even a birthday email. And if you're feeling really generous, send him a gift from his Amazon wishlist. I sent him one. Not going to tell which. It is a surprise. If you are new to his blog, please let him know I sent you, I'm sure he'll love that. And while you're there, check his labels for "Ace" to read his take on the couple of hot sessions we had with each other.


The last night my boy and I had together could have been an incredibly sad night. It could have been just a night of us slipping under the covers early so that we could get up in time to meet his early flight. It could have been a tedious effort to fight the coming dawn. It could have been a lot of things. But what we ended up doing was making our last night together the most memorable night of our time together. Sure, we would be tired in the morning when we had to make the sad trip to the airport, but we would have the wonderful memories to hold us through the day and cradle us into the night.

What did we do to make the night so memorable? We broke out the fetish gear.

My boy had brought quite a few items with him, ranging in levels of kink. One thing that I absolutely loved that he brought with him was a gas mask. I think gas masks are hot. I know some people aren't that into them, and can even find it annoying that their partner's face is obscured. Honestly, I can understand that, and I can even agree that there is a communication barrier when you put one on. They make it harder to see, hear, and very hard to be heard. But even with all that, what I really liked was the smell of the latex and the feeling of something closely gripping my face. It was very sexy. And I'm not ashamed to admit to making Darth Vader sounds when I first put it on.

We also both broke out our leathers, going through various outfits during the evening. I wore the harness in my top picture along with my leather vest, and a fun leather piece I own which can only be described as a cross between and apron and a long kilt--with buckles and chains, of course. Later I wore the vest with just the harness, and then the vest with a new leather jock my boy had bought for me, complete with zipper pouch. My boy had a sexy cotton jock on, and I believe it was red, though he has a few colors. He also had a vest with him, one that I was a little jealous of, as it put my less expensive vest to shame. He also had a pair of leather cuffs, lined with the softest red fabric. They locked in a few key places, and were tight, but comfortable on him. I was very impressed with their craftsmanship, as well as how sexy they looked clasped to his wrist.

While we were changing outfits and feeling each other up, we were taking pictures of each other, posing in ways that we hoped were sexy (I'm still not convinced many of mine were that sexy at all). Then, when the pictures were done, I pushed my boy up against the wall hard and started grinding myself into him. I pulled on his collar, his harness, whatever I could get my hands on, hitting him in different places. "You're my boy," I said. "You belong to me. You exist only to serve me. To worship me. To serve this cock."

I had him kneel and blow me while I continued my physical and verbal assaults on him. I didn't hit him hard, and I didn't say anything that was really hurtful to him. But the right words and the right strike in the moment can elevate the heat and tension in a Dom/sub situation. I would pull his head down on my cock, holding it at the root for as long as I thought he could handle without starting to black out. I would slap his face with it, smearing his own spittle around. Finally, when I felt my orgasm arriving, I had him move to the bed and lean over it, sticking his ass out at me while I jacked my cock.

My boy has a tattoo on his lower back, in the area that one usually refers to as a "tramp stamp" when seen on the girls in the bar with the shirts up just slightly too high. I have no idea if that terminology crosses genders, but that isn't really important. What was important was that I was aiming to shoot my load of cum all over his tattoo, covering it and smearing it around. When I was done, I took a picture of the glistening skin of his tattoo, where I had just rubbed my cum in, making his skin absorb it. After I was finished, I wiped my cock off a bit, but I told him not to clean himself up. I wanted the cum to dry there over night so that his skin would get stiff and pull with it, not letting him forget the ending to our wonderful night together.

And, of course, we both have the pictures.


Sunday, February 5, 2012

Formspring and the Superbowl

Well, it is that time of the year again, when we all crowd around the TV with beer, chips, and popcorn, and vote for our favorite over-price commercials and go take a piss while some guys run around on a feild. OK, OK, I'm kidding. I actually don't watch the commercials that much during the game or after it. In a lot of ways, I don't find them memorable at all. Same with the half time shows (I know some people are looking forward to seeing Maddona). I think the last one I actually remember watching was when Janet Jackson had her infamous wardrobe malfunction. I also remember the Superbowl my Freshman year of college, when I spent the entire game at my campus job supervising the weight room at the gym. You can guess that there was no one there (actually only two people came to work out the entire shift) so I opened my laptop up and got game updates online. That one was pretty boring.

And for those of you wondering, yes, like every good son of New England, I am a Patriots fan. But I'm not as aggressive about it as a lot of people in the Boston area are. Football isn't really my sport, and I don't enjoy watching it that much. I know some people think it is worth it just to see sexy men in tight clothes, but as someone who was a competative swimmer for most of his life, I can tell you there are better looking people in tighter outfits in other sports. Water polo? That's where it is at, my friends.

Sadly I'm probably going to miss at least the first half of the game this year because of those extra hours I told you all about in my last post. I strongly suspect a lot of my coworkers are taking game day off, and that is why I'm being called in to work on a Sunday. On a normal Sunday, I would be an extra person on staff and probably in the way. I suspect tomorrow I'll be needed a lot more. I'm even going in earlier than normal, which is why I'm wrapping up this intro and segueing shakily into the question and answer section of the post.

As always you can ask me anything on my formspring page, and also read through my backlog of questions and answers. You can also ask me a question through email, and I will happily answer it for you and post it up on the next Sunday.



Your writing is so exemplary. When i read Your blog i am often taken into my own mind and can picture everything so clearly. Have You always been a fabulous writer or is it something You have had to work at?

Why, thank you very much. I have to admit, I am honestly and frequently humbled when people tell me that my writing is good. For some reason it never seems that good to me, but I think I am just a perfectionist. And to answer your question, yes, it has taken me many years from realizing that I wanted to be a writer to getting to the level of writing I am at today. There have been multiple writing projects I've done that were not great and then there have been others I have started and stopped because I was not at the level I needed to be at to tackle them. I am always developing and growing in that area. Then again, it is much more than a hobby for me. Writing is my life.

How often do you encounter men who like vibrators? You mentioned one not too long ago. But it was pretty much in passing.

There are definitely a lot of guys out there who like vibrators. I think it really depends on the man and on the vibrator in question. I have used a few in my time, and found that some definitely feel good while others simply felt like something was shaking in my ass. I knew a guy who had a hand-held wand that felt really good if you rubbed it on your cock, balls, and taint.

RE "party drugs" like cannabis and MDMA: Are you approving, disapproving, or indifferent?

Far be it from me to tell someone what to do with their lives, but aside from the obvious health problems, I have some reasons why I don't play with guys that are huge into drugs. One is that they tend to get high and just lay there, waiting for you to finish. I like submissives, but even they participate in the moment a bit. Some tweaks are so far gone that you might as well be jerking off. Another is that sometimes the sex is just part of the high, like some people only smoke when they drink. I don't want to just be a means to making your high better, I want to actually mean something to you.

IQ: Be all and end all, something worth considering, or much ado about little?

IQ really doesn't matter as much as people seem to think. I have known people with genious level IQ scores who wasted their talents making and then taking drugs, and I know people with normal IQ scores that make the most out of their skill set. Plus, I believe strongly in cultivating both book and street smarts.

You are from OHIO? I, too, have been called a worthless nut being the buckeye that I am. What part and do you ever get back?

I'm not from Ohio, but I did spend the last four years of my life there while at college. I haven't really been gone long enough to "get back" but I'm sure I will from time to time.

Suppose you won a 9-figure lottery and never had to worry about money again. Suppose you could also conceal your wealth. Would you ever pay for sex, or would you feel that anyone who expects payment would never be worth their price? Semper Anonymous

I don't have an intellectual or moral issue with paying for sex, having taken money for sex a few times in the past. I am not sure if I would pay for sex, as I generally can get it without paying, but I'm not going to say "no" to this question either. If I ever become rich, I will let you know.


That's all for this week. I look forward to answering more questions soon. And I do plan to post more this week, in spite of my busier-than-usual schedule. Hope those of you watching the game enjoy and are safe about it. For my non-football/superbowl minded, have a wonderful end to your weekend.

Friday, February 3, 2012

We Interrupt this Program

Ladies and gentlemen, I have been busy. It actually feels a bit like saying good-bye to my boy and writing about my jumbled mess of thoughts happened a week ago, instead of earlier this week. I have taken on a lot of extra hours at work these next few weeks, and I spent all day yesterday up North doing some on-the-side work on my day off. Coupled with school being back in gear and my lack of sleep recently, I'm definitely in a different place now than I was the last time I posted. I'm still a jumbled mess, but now I'm a jumbled mess with things to do.

I wanted to let you all know about my coming extra hours as it may cause some interruptions in my posting. I'm working eleven of the next fourteen days, and some of those days I'm working extended shifts, so it is entirely possible that I will fall behind on my blogging for a bit. I apologize if I do. I actually have some stuff that I know I have to write about and want to write about when I get time (like my last night with my boy, which was very hot) and a few other things to post (like more pictures of me in various states of undress). So I hope you will all bare with me while I get all of that out.

Meanwhile, I am ever searching for the next person who will make an appearance in my blog. In fact, I spent some time last night while doing homework online talking to people to mixed results. I say mixed, but what I really mean is "positive in all but one category." I accidentally stumbled across one of those rude trolls that haunt the cyber realms, and boy did he rear his ugly head. Here's how our correspondence went:

Ace: UNLOCKED PICTURES
Ace: How's it going? I really like your profile and pictures (especially your furry chest). Would love to hook up some time. 
DickHead: Cut the hair and then we'll talk.
 Really? I mean, I know that my long hair isn't for everyone, that's something I knew would be the case the day I decided to grow it out. But come on guy. At least pretend like you aren't being shallow about it. And I love how there's the implication that, once I cut my hair, he would deign to have sex with me. Well, trust me, if you're the kind of person who can look at someone and say, "He's hot but that hair has to go for me to talk to him," the I don't want to talk to you. And if you're rude enough to say it, I DEFINITELY don't want to talk to you.

I immediately put the guy on my ignore list and moved on. Honestly, his opinion of my hair doesn't bother me (I don't know him, so how could it). But things like that always make me heave out a heavy "le sigh" at the way people seem to feel that they can be so nit-picky in online sex partners. In my time using the internet to hook up with guys, I would say that most men online at any given moment are not actually on to have sex. They may think they are, but every time someone approaches them, they will find a fault. These people will sift through pages of guys and not find a single one who fits the perfect fantasy mold they have, and then log off dejected.

These are, for obvious reasons, not the people I usually end up having sex with. Oh well. Their loss. I moved on and had a wonderful time talking with a few new people and even Rob the Breeder before heading to bed. When I logged off, the guy who had told me to cut my hair was still on, and he was still complaining about not finding anyone to mess around with. There's a moral to that story.