Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Oh Captain...

Sorry once again for the lack of updates. I've been put under a lot of pressure by an unfortunate situation that I may or may not talk about in a different blog post (do you even want to hear me complain?). That being said, I have not forgotten my readers or the blogs that I read, even if I may have disappeared from the internet for a while. To be honest, last week I think I went on my computer maybe twice, and not for very long. The rest of my online time was using my cell phone. I guess when I pull away, I really pull away.

Anyway, before I go into full-on complain mode, I figured I'd wet your lips with a little something from very early in my childhood years...

His name, as far as I had been concerned, was Captain Craig. I knew his last name, of course, though even if I was willing to divulge it online, it was complex and I'm not really sure how you would spell it. I don't think I ever saw it written down.

I first met Captain Craig when I was very young. My dad and I would go out on the water in Captain Craig's boat, either to just tour the harbor, or on special days, go looking for wales in the deep ocean. Captain Craig and my father seemed to know each other relatively well from frequenting a local restaurant-slash-bar and chatting while there. I'm not sure how long they had known each other before I met him, but I was very young when I first went out on Captain Craig's boat, and it may even have been my first time out in the ocean.

The thing I remember the most about Captain Craig was how nice he always was to me. He would let me come in to the bridge and talk to him while he piloted the ship. He was somewhat of an idol to me when I was very young, though I don't mean that I wanted to be a captain or anything. When I was younger, however, I did always imagine that I would have a boat of my own one day. My father used to talk to me about getting one. A small schooner, or maybe a single sail ship with enough room for the two of us to have a fun sea adventure down the Atlantic coast. I loved the idea of being able to travel the open sea in the way that some children love the idea of flying.

One day when I was still very young, maybe six or seven at the most, I got the thrill of a lifetime. Captain Craig brought me up onto his lap and let me steer the ship while he controlled everything else (let's face it, I was never really in control). He showed me all the dials and equipment. Helped me learn to navigate with the compass, avoid land with a guidance too, check the barometer, note the direction of the wind and swell of the waves. For me, as a young boy, that was all I could ever want. He put his captain's hat on my head, almost covering my face as it slid down my much smaller skull, and my father took a few pictures of us.

That became a new thing every time I boarded the ship. My father and I would stay with the rest of the passengers until we were out over clear water and then walk up to the bridge and knock on the door. Captain Craig would smile at me and beckon me in, often with an apathetic crew member making the small cabin a tight fit. But nothing else really mattered to me as I rode the waves in his lap.

It was a sad day for me when I learned that Captain Craig was no longer the captain of that particular ship. In fact, he had gotten a job doing barge trips transporting various things like trash. It was hard to imagine the man I had admired so much in his crisp, white uniform, his tan face, and his coffee-stained smile as the captain of a ship loaded with trash. It was honestly a hard reality moment for me. The sea wasn't full of smiling captains all the time. Sometimes those captains get replaced by grumpy men with thick mustaches who don't appreciate young, adventurous boys looking in the door to the bridge. That's certainly what happened with Captain Craig.

I wouldn't see him again until years later as a teen, when I was having dinner at that same restaurant-slash-bar with my father, and who should walk in but a slightly tipsy Captain Craig. He sat down at the bar and ordered what I could only imagine was one on top of a previous pile of beers, and didn't recognize us at first. Then my dad went up to him and reintroduced himself. My father, who had not changed much beyond going grey and getting fatter, was easily recognized by the drunk captain. It took him a moment or two more to realize who I was.

"My god, you've grown so big!" he said in a comically breathless voice, his eyes open wide. I recall being unimpressed, as I had decided to always be when facing adults who had known me as a child and then dropped out of my life. The number of people by that point who had marveled at my growth had cooled me to the experience, and I honestly just wanted to eat my food and go home.

But then Captain Craig, even in his drunken state, did something none of my previous acquainted had managed: he turned on his old charm and actually brought back some of the happy, admiring boy that I had once been. I felt the same old stirrings inside of me as he told my father and I what he had been up to, though I managed to keep my goofy grin at bay as much as possible. I had a sullen reputation to keep, after all.

Captain Craig, apparently, also had some old stirrings going on, only in his intoxicated state, he was less able to keep them hidden. "You still look so great, just like when you were young," he told me.

"I remember when you were just a boy," he said, looking at me with a smile on his face. And in that moment I felt like a boy again. I felt like he was tall enough to still pull me up on his lap and have me steer the ship.

"I remember the first time your father brought you into the bridge and let me hold you in my lap. It was one of the best moments of my life." He was getting a little too excited, and I was having trouble matching his enthusiasm. "I had to keep myself in check, with you sitting there. I was having trouble not getting too aroused, worried you'd notice."

Wait. What? Did Captain Craig just tell me that he had been turned on by my young body sitting on top of him? Did Captain Craig just say out loud that he had been getting hard all those times I had been in my happy world of piloting the ship? I felt like my memories of those times had been tainted in some way. I didn't know how to react. And neither did my father. I could tell that he was asking himself the same questions, though I think he was also deciding to file it under misunderstood drunken ramblings. Still, my father ended the conversation quite abruptly, and I found myself thinking about Captain Craig, the man I remembered, and Captain Craig, the drunk man.

I knew that there were people who liked young boys. I was still fourteen or fifteen and I had given my young hole to enough men to understand that drive in them. But when I thought about just how young I had been when he felt turned on by me, and I wasn't sure I was entirely comfortable with him anymore. What had happened to this man I had once admired? Where did the white captain go?

But what may have bothered me even more, was that I started thinking about what might have happened if he had tried something with me. Would I have let him? Would I have been a victim? Would I have liked it? I started wondering what would have happened if he had never fallen out of my life, if he had seen me grow. I wondered if he would have been the one to take my virginity. Would my idol have been my first in other circumstances?

And then, when my father went to the bathroom before we left, I did something that I could hardly believe I was doing. I walked up to him and asked him for his number...

Monday, July 16, 2012

Taking Notes

"Oh, man, I have to get my dick up that ass," he said.
I might have been inside Paul's house all of five seconds when he said it, but I doubt it. I still had my book bag over my shoulder and spring mud on my boots and I was a little startled by his voice. I had come to expect strange men greeting me at Paul's house, but the bluntness and force of this man startled me a bit. Most of Paul's friends were more subdued and calm with me. At least the one's I had met so far. At halfway through my fourteenth year, I was feeling a little cocky about sex, and I was feeling good about the effect I had on men.
But this aggression, this was new. It wasn't just the normal sexually burst of aggressive heat I was used to from some of the men who fucked me. This guy wasn't only aggressive when he was pounding my ass. It was a constant for him. He even seemed to slightly overpower Paul, though I could tell that was just appearances. Paul was still in control, but he was letting this wild man be wild.
He came up to me and grabbed my ass in both his hands, and even at my tall height for my age, I still felt totally intimidated by him. Even now, as I recall that day, it seems as though he towered over me, and that I had to crane my neck to see him. It wasn't the case, of course. He simply had an incredible presence, a confidence and swagger that dwarfed me. It would take me years to develop anything like that confidence, and to this day it is not the same as this man.
"You better get in that room and get naked for me, boy, or else I'm going to have to fuck you through your clothes." I remember that line vividly. I've used it myself recently.
With just one look at Paul, who nodded to show it was OK, I walked into the bedroom and tossed my bag to the floor. And then I started undressing for this man I had barely even met.
There were a few items from Paul's toy chest on the bed, but I didn't pay them much attention. I was used to most of them at this point; the nipple clamps, the cuffs, the
leg spreader. The only one that gave me the slightest pause was the red ball gag. I had never been gagged before, though I had seen them used in porn plenty of times, thanks to my father's large collection of BDSM. The thought that I might be wearing one that afternoon turned me on.
Once I was naked, the aggressive man came in and walked past me to the bed and grabbed the nipple clamps and cuffs. With little pause he spun me around and cuffed my arms behind my back. Then I was facing him and he was clamping my nipples tightly, sending a wave of painful pleasure through me like it always did.
"Kneel," he said, and I did.
His cock was hard and while not incredibly huge, it was still bigger than average. He didn't waste any time forcing it down my throat. At first my coughing and gagging worried me, but I soon realized that this man knew exactly what he was doing. I didn't know how, but he could tell exactly when I needed to come up for air, and gave me as much time to breathe as I needed, but not a moment more.
When his cock was dripping with my spit, he pushed me onto the bed, face down, with my legs over the side. He propped the open with the spreader bar. He leaned over me, pressing his whole body on top of mine. He pulled my head back and then brought the ball gag to my mouth. I stiffened for a moment, but then he caught me totally off guard. He kissed and licked my ear and bit gently at my neck. Just the right amount of sensuality to get me to relax as his buckled the gag behind my head.
He pulled back and aimed his cock at my hole. In a moment I realized that he was about to push into me with no lube my the spit I had left on his dick. I was afraid but it was too late and he was pushing into me. My hole resisted, but he never backed off. He kept pushing in until it sprung open. My whole body jumped and I cried put into the gag. He held still for just a moment as I heaved in and out. My hole throbbed, but I knew I had taken bigger and I knew I could take him.
The moment he felt my hole start to loosen, he was pumping me. He took it easy at first, but kept bumping right against my threshold, pushing my line constantly. And somehow I wanted it. I wanted him to keep pushing me so I would be better. Something in the way he held me and enveloped me with his body spoke of experience and control. And I knew then that this was not just a wild man fucking me. This was an amazing lover.
He unloaded his sperm into me multiple times without stopping. He worked my hole over more than it had ever been before. And when he was spent and I was weak all over, he bent down to lick my leaking hole. His tongue was soothing and cool and as he unlocked me I felt every ache in my body creaking except where that coolness was.
I spent some time on Paul's bed after that. I was getting my strength back, but also thinking a lot about this wild man who had been totally in control all along. He had been confident, but not cocky. He had been sure, and he had been right. And the thought hit me that day: I want to be like him.
I spent some more time replaying the session in my head, focusing on how well he had known my responses and needs. How he had know just when to pull his cock from my sore throat and when to fuck my ass just a bit harder. I want to be able to do that.
I cleaned up a bit and joined Paul in the living room.
"When can I see him again?"

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Formspring--It has been a while

Wow! Been a lon time since I posted one of these babies. I wont go into it again how I've been busy lately, but basically when I found it harder to keep the blog regularly, I decided not to do the Formspring updates because I didn't want it to look like that was all I did. I've seen some blogs which are pretty much just people answering formspring over and over and I didn't want that to be me. It has, however, been a while so I figure now would be a great time.

As usual, I'll give you a little update on my life too. Remember that roommate who I was excited about getting an apartment with? Turns out he is a bit more flakey than I realized and I may be finding a place for myself soon. Honestly, I'm not even that upset about moving in alone again. I really just wanted the company and help with the rent. But if I have to, I will go another year by myself. I can deal.

I've also been having a lot of accidents recently which are so very, very not fun. For example, on Thursday I was at work doing some stocking of items and in back getting boxes. As I was bet over to pick a box up from the floor, I heard a creak from the shelf next to me. I had enough time to think, "Oh crap," before two rather heavy boxes tumbled and landed on my exposed back, giving me a nice bruise and a muscle ache. Then on Friday, as I was cleaning up for the night, I dropped something that weighs between thirty and forty pounds and barely caught it against my thigh where my wallet sits, and now have a nice bruise there too. Been doing good.

But not everything has been bad. Believe it or not, I've recently been seeing friends I hadn't seen in a while and getting out of my funk. Been having sex again, which is always good, and just generally getting back into the swing of my life. That's right, folks, Ace is coming back!

Now on to the Formspring questions for today. As always you can ask me anything on my Formspring page or send me an email. I am trying to keep as on top of emails as possible these days, but if I don't get back to you right away, I apologize.

If you shoot your load on your partner's face who's responsible for clean-up?

That really depends in the person I'm with. On an average, given day, I would prefer we share the clean-up duties and enjoy my cum together. However, if my partner isn't into cum, I will gladly eat it myself. And if we are in a Dom/sub situation, I will always expect my sub to take care of all cleaning.

What is the most romantic thing someone has done for you?

Honestly, I'm usually the one who is being romantic. Not sure if that's because I'm naturally romantic or because I don't pick especially amazing people to date, but that's beside the point. I would have to say that, at this stage of my life, the most romantic thing anyone has done for me is to greet me at the door when I come home with dinner almost ready and a nice massage. Then after dinner we cuddled and I got treated right.

What is your favorite position for sex?

I love a guy with his ass up on his knees for long-dicking. I can get into a great rhythm of pulling almost all the way out and slamming home that I love. And sometimes I will pull myself up into a crouch behind the guy and really go to town (been told that is called "froggy style"). When a guy is flat on his stomach I love the creative angles I can get with my penetration just with a simple shift on my part. I love to be at a 90 degree angle with our bodies so I am basically fucking him sideways.

I do like face-to-face with a guys legs on my shoulders, but I find that a hard position to keep long unless the guy can really bend. The ass just isn't in the right spot and I can't get as deep. I like that for vaginal sex though. My best position for face-to-face is with one leg up and one leg down so I'm splitting the guy. But again, if he isn't flexible and helping hold his legs up, I can't go long without getting hurt from the pressure. I've had pulled muscles in my groin area from guys pushing back with their legs.

Do you think Asian people are attractive?

Yes! :-D Both the men and women are just so incredibly attractive. I'm not entirely sure what it is, but I think I'm really attracted to their skin tone. Haven't had sex with too many though...

What play, opera, musical, or other shows would You like to see on stage?

I would love to see Hair on stage some time. I've already seen The Lion King, but I would love to see it again. Sweeney Todd would be fun too. For opera, well, I'm not sure. La Traviatta (which I think I spelled wrong) is always good, but I mostly like to LISTEN to opera, not watch it. The Golden Rings cycle would be fun though. For drama, I would love to see Sleuth and I've never seen Titus Andronicus before.

When riding a rollercoaster do You prefer to sit in the front, back, or does it matter to You?

I would like to go on enough times to get each spot. Unless I don't like the coaster. But when I like one, you best believe I will be riding it over and over again.

Describe your masturbation technique? Be as specific as possible. For example, do you concentrate o the shaft or rub the head, etc..

I'm going to assume this is for when I'm really serious about jerking off and not just shooting a load for the sake of getting off. In that case, I switch it up between the full shaft and just the head. Both things make me pour pre-cum like a leaky faucet (but then, I can pre-cum without touching my dick at all). I like to rub my pre-cum all over the shaft and my balls to really soak them. When I'm close to orgasm, I stroke quickly with one hand and the other is either pressing my lower abdomin or my perenium, both of which are hot spots for me.

That's all for this week. Hope you enjoyed and keep the questions coming. I love to answer them. It gives me a chance to touch on subjects that I don't normally write about in the blog. Thanks for everyone who has already asked, as well.

Friday, July 6, 2012


The recent amount of heat that we've been getting where I live (aided by the fact that my apartment seems to work like an oven) has had me stuck awake a lot these past few days. Sometimes I'm just uncomfortably sweating, other times it is a combination of the heat and my brain not being able to shut down. And it has reminded me a lot of the first ever dorm I lived in back in my Freshman year of college. That dorm was neatly tucked into a tight corner of the third floor next to the stairwell, a tube of brick walls that acted amazingly well as a chimney, by the way. My dorm room was smaller than most because it was shoved next to the stairs, actually, which meant my roommate and I had some pretty close quarters. Now, there was no A/C or central air in the Freshman dorms, and if you were on the third floor and didn't have a doctors note allowing you to use a window A/C, you were pretty much shit out of luck as far as the heat went. Even in the dead of winter, that top floor was warm enough that you'd easily be comfortable walking around in just your underwear.

And that's what a lot of guys did.

One particular guy I always remember was staying a few extra days into a break, like me. Those of us going to the college from out of state often had to wait a bit for flight plans, and the college was lenient about letting us stay. At first I thought I might have the hallway all to myself, the noise levels I had grown used to were gone and things felt dead quiet.

That first night, however, on my way to the showers, I bumped into him as he left his dorm. Literally. I slammed into him, muttered an embarrassed and slightly tired apology, and then noticed that he was just wearing a towel. And I noticed that the towel was no longer covering all of his lower body. His ginger-colored pubic hair was sticking out in the front and I was seeing some serious ass cleavage when he rotated.

I don't know if it was because I was tired or horny or a little bit of both, but I definitely stared longer than I should have. I also wasn't paying attention to the fact that he was staring at me in just my trunks. I was too busy thinking that I had just gotten caught and there was nothing that was going to stop him from telling everyone and soon I would be the guy no one talked to and avoided. Why I was worried about that after already having hooked up a few times on campus, I don't know. But I never really got along with the guys in my hallway and tried to stay out of the way when situations came up that would make them angry with me. Like when the Red Sox beat the Indians, for example. I had to keep my head low for a week after that.

I made my way to the showers quickly, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he was right behind me. Once I was in the shower stall I stopped worrying so much about it and just let the warm water wash off all the grease and sweat and grime from the day, relaxing my muscles in expectation of a relaxing few days before I went home. He finished showering before me, which I thought was good because it meant I could just slink back to my dorm room and hope to avoid him.

I didn't expect that he would still be at the sinks when I got out of the shower with a towel around my waist. He paused from whatever he was doing, brushing his teeth or scrubbing at pimples, to shoot me a, "Hey." I replied in kind and began to leave, but he said to me, "You wanna watch a movie in my room or something? I think we're the only guys left in the dorm right now."

"Sure," I said, practically blurted. And with that we were making our way to his dorm. I spared a few thoughts to the fact that all I had was my underwear and a towel, but I was used to hanging out with other guys in just my underwear at this point, so I didn't worry too much about it.

I have absolutely no memory of what movie we watched that night, side-by-side, with our legs propped up on his roommate's desk. I vividly remember, however, that it seemed like his curly red hair never seemed to dry that night, either because of the shower or the sweating in the close space. I remember watching it drip onto his forehead. Drops sliding down his back, making a line to that round ass I'd glimpsed under the towel earlier.

I remember the feeling of tension every time his leg brushed against mine. His were so much more smooth compared to my hairy, blond ones. Yet with his pale skin and bright fur, they look so much more hairy than mine. Every time we cracked a joke and looked at each other, there was a sense that something more was coming, something building, but neither one of us wanted to act on it. I wanted to wrestle and kiss him and order pizza and watch more movies. I didn't know what I wanted, or what he wanted.

Looking back, I think we were both confused as to whether we wanted a friendship or sex. Or both. And we were both a little tired and a little nervous. But back then it was exciting. It was new and it was discovery, and it was a little frightening. And I was captivated by the water dripping down his chest I shivered feeling the drips on my own skin as they raised my hairs and sent goosebumps over my body. The heat and the tension were electric.

Finally the movie was over and we were both tired, so I decided to go back to my dorm. As I was walking out of his room I turned and said, "I'm sorry, but I never got your name."

"James," he replied.

And then I did something that surprised both of us. I kissed him. Then I said goodnight and walked to my dorm.