Convention Center Suck

I love going to conventions. I'm out of the office. I'm business casual. I'm anonymous.

Different city. Different men. Usually 1000s of men. They're anonymous.

The conference I attend are not small. Usually upwards of 10,000 folks (including the vendor exhibit). Trolling on-line prior to leaving you can always find guys from whatever city you're going to and make some plans for encounters. Sometimes those same guys are in town for the exact same dates you are.

Last year I was in Orlando for an annual meeting and their new convention center is HUGE - even by convention center standards. There were work stations in the place for users to retrieve their email. Logging on to mine, I found I had a response from a well-placed internet ad and the guy happened to be at the same meeting. Convenient!

Before responding, I took a lay of the land and scoped out every fuckin restroom at the center. Coordinated those places with sessions being held (or not) to see what we could get away with. I found a number of them and proceeded to reply to the email, providing my cell number.

Within minutes my phone was ringing. It was him and he was interested. Great for me - he wasn't hesitant about using a bathroom stall do dump his seed, so that was the big hurdle. The other one was - these places were dead during the vendor exhibit. Unfortunately, he was a vendor.

It took some coaxing, but I told him to break free from his co-workers and join me for 10 minutes. I mean - what bathroom blowjob is taking longer than that? Luckily he worked for a major player and they had an overflow of guys working the crowd.

He shows at the appointed time. And for those who have dealt with vendors - he's the kind of guy you love to hate. Slick. Cocky. Arrogant. But it's everything I love about a feeder. (plus he wore a wedding band.)

There were two stalls prior to the handicapped one, which I chose, since you couldn't see any feet from underneath if someone walked in. He followed me in and latched the door. In no time flat he unzipped and pulled out a beautifully fat 7" dick. I went in and took out his nuts which were huge. "Hurry up - I don't got all fuckin day" he said.....so down I went. Sitting on the toilet I took him all the way down and he groaned as softly as he could.

I can only imagine a vendor's life. On the road away from the wife - which could be bad - or he could be a complete player, which could be great. And this was working for me. He immediately started to pump my face and i was WAY into it.

Just then someone came in to use a urinal. My feeder stopped for minute then slid himself back in my mouth. I looked up at him and he had his fingers to his lips, like for me to be quiet, but clearly he wanted me to continue. I did. I kept my sucking noises to a minimum while the guy pissed....and pisssed and pissed. He went forever.

As he was zipping up and went to wash his hands, my feeder grabbed my head tight. Without a sound he started dumping his load in my mouth. The water running in the sink was the only sound in the bathroom.

My guy pulls out. Winks at me....zips up and leaves.

I love conventions.

Sex Pig & the City

Remember the days before Guliani? The days before NYC became, if only by it's own standards, cleaned-up?

I do. I loved the 'dirty' days. Bookstores were around. Adult theatres (the 'Adonis'...anyone? anyone?) were where I spent my afterwork hours.

Of course, being a broke student in the city on an internship - sometimes I couldn't afford the theatres and the enviornment they provided. Sometimes you just had to endure the showiness of nature. And for that - I thank g-d for Central Park.

The Rambles in particular. For the uninitated it's hard to describe. Winding paths near the lake and through wooded (sometimes heavily) areas and rock formations. The paths were very winding that sometimes brought you back to where you started or dumped you out someplace completely unfamiliar. Let's face it - even when I had money, I still did a tour through the park.

I'm sure at night it could be dangerous and even more cruisy. But really - any time of the day didn't lack for activity. All walks of life - suits to blue collar. White-black-hispanic. All good. All with one thing on their mind. How they achieved that ending all varied.

But for a young guy who needed (and still does) to be able to please sexually, it was the place for me. First going through there w/a pit in my stomach not knowing what to expect. But there was this guy (isn't there always) whose sexuality just oozed out of his pores - and a type of guy who could talk you into anything. Late 20s. Dark hair and lots of it.

Oddly enough though, he talked ME into letting him go down on me. That's ususally not my M.O., but I obliged, well....b/c he could talk me into anything. I was big and hard and he loved being down on his knees on top of this tree covered knoll. Me leaning against a tree - him taking me to the root while he stroked his own piece. Unfortunately - I never came, but he popped his nut all over the dirt. Then I was history. He was gone in a flash.

The great thing about CP - there is always someone else around. I never even had to move. After #1 left, there was a guy a dozen yards away, watching...stroking. Late 50s I guess. Impeccably dressed...salt and pepper hair carrying a fucking Bergdorf bag. He walked over, still exposed and I dropped to my knees - which is what he was looking for. He dropped the bag. His hand went to the back of my head and guided me along.

Another great thing about CP is - it's about the moment. No long encounters. You can't afford those. Not there. In 5-7 min he just said....'baby, it is ALL yours!' and fed me my afterwork meal. Gushes of cum - none of it I missed. I cleaned him off quickly and he pulled back. As he picked up his bag - he says, 'you've got an audience'. And I did (well, we did, but he removed himself from that equation). 3 guys watching. Some stroking. One w/out a word just stepped up and took over from Bergdorf man. Not a word from him the entire time - but I took a nice load from his u/c dick in a matter of minutes.

The next guy I had to signal over. Not sure why he thought he wasn't worthy - but I finally coaxed him. He came over and took out his own member - though I am always happy to help a guy out. But whatever trepidation he had pretty much went away after I got him in my mouth. He started bucking his hips and fucking my face in ernest. And loud. No issue about who might hear him - telling me to take every inch and make him feel good. Starting to demand 'shoot it!!!'. Turns out it wasn't for me, but the other guy watching, who ended up stroking off while watching the entire series of events. That pushed shy guy (HA!) over the edge and he filled my throat w/cream.

It's all I could do to pull away quick enough to ejaculate w/out cumming on his shoes. I got all his load, but didn't get to clean him off the way I would have liked to.

But that's the great thing about NYC and CP - always another time and another guy(s).

Bad Attitude I

There's something to be said for a guy with a bad attitude. And maybe that's the wrong phrase. Cocky. Self-Assured. Either might be more appropriate. Clearly something in life has these guys thinking they are the shit. You'd think it's about dick size - but that's not always the case. As you'll see throughout my posts - these are the types of guys I am drawn to. It has nothing to do w/looks or dick size. Those are always pluses.....but never the motivating factor.

I met this guy one night in an adult bookstore. Sweat pants, tshirt. Balding. Pock-marked face. But I will say, I was immediately drawn to him. He wasted no time locking the door behind us and pulling down his sweats. Nothing between his boys and the athletic pants. Biggest dick I had seen on a white guy. Maybe 10" but FAT FAT FAT. Oh - and uncut.

Without hesitation or a word he pushed me to my knees. I was happy to go there. Turns out it might BE my happy place. At the beginning, going down on his was not an issue. The closer I got to his bush - the harder I struggled. He didn't care. He pushed me down on it further - making me gag....making my eyes water.

When he realized I wasn't going to get it all down, he picked me up by my armpits and turned me around and pushed my shorts around my ankles then told me to put one foot up on the bench. I did as told w/out hesitation or question.

Also w/out hesitation, he placed taht monster at my hole and shoved in. I knew enough not to yelp out loud (since it was supposed to be one person per booth). He got all the way in and did the deed. No finesse. Nothing about me. All about him. And he kept it up until I heard him grunt once. The deed was done.

A minute later he unceremoniously pulled out of my ass and his sweats were back in place. Without looking back at me, he unlatched the door and walked out.

Me being the pathetic pig I was tried to get myself together and headed to the parking lot - but he was long gone.

Luckily for me - it was not my last encounter with him. Nor was it the nastiest or most impersonal.

Charlie & me

By the time I was 17, I was regularly having sex of some kind - though not w/a regular person/persons. The entire events were very transient.

One guy was a hot mf and clearly into just getting his nut anyway he could. His name was Charlie - and he had a weird weird relationship (i thought) with a neighbor of ours. Mr. Porter was divorced and in his 40s. This was the '70s an Mr. Porter was the first person anyone in our neighborhood knew to ever be divorced.

Anyway - Charlie, who was in his mid-20s, would stay at the Porter's house. Mr. Porter had sole custody of his 3 teenage kids too. I figured (or was it wished?) that Charlie was some kind of 'son' to Mr. Porter (who was not bad looking at all), but never got the clear scoop on that.

I'm not sure how it ever started, but around this time I started giving Charlie head in their house. He'd have me suck it....he'd hold me down on it when he came. After I swallowed every drop, he'd tell me what a good boy I was and send me on my way.

Eventually Charlie took to fucking me. He wasn't the first and he figured that out right quick. He'd like me laying on my stomach while he took me from behind. Maybe he didn't like to be reminded that he was fucking a guy. Or a kid. Or both. Gentle he was not....and it didnt' matter. His 7" would violate me (or so he thought) and he'd get to ejaculate the way guys in their 20s like to.

During what would become one of our last sessions, he was pumping me and says into my ear: 'you know, Bernie knows everything that goes on in his house!' That got me excited b/c not only were we doing it in Mr. Porter's bed, but I somehow thought we were being watched and that Mr. Porter would be next to fuck my ass.

Unfortunatey, that did not happen. Not long after, Charlie moved out to g-d knows where. If Mr. Porter really did know what went on - he never said, nor did he ever seem interested. Damn.

I only bring any of this up b/c last week, a driver on a freeway cut Mr. Porter off and he went left of center and was killed. I almost showed to the viewing - since I knew the family, but also for the perverse pleasure of seeing if Charlie would be there.

Intro

Nothing too exciting - well.....for some.

But some housekeeping notes:

• You should be of legal age while reading this
• This site is (or can be) sexually explicit at times. I aim to excite - not offend.
• The sexually exlicit items to which I refer in the above deals with man-on-man action. Find another site if you are offended.
• 13 does not refer to either my age or the size of my member. It's a number. Let's just say that some of 1-12 were taken years ago when setting up an account on mIRC (remember that, people?).
• Bike in BikeGuy refers to a few things: I like to ride (bicycle) and I love wearing Bike jockstraps. At this time, I do not have a motorcycle.