I hate when things get fuzzy.
My post about M had one of the most comment responses from my readership than any other post I’ve done. This is post #2 about M. It's not my standard sex post. Some will appreciate it. Others - not so much.
But things are fuzzy.
I’ve been blessed/cursed with an incredible memory – but things with M get me blurry from the word “go”. I think I am so distracted by this man, that I am finding it hard to separate fact from fantasy. Maybe there isn’t a separation and I need there to be. As comfortable I am in my own skin, M might push me to uncomfortable places. This post won’t be as clear and concise as many of you would like.
It’s not that I don’t remember the events – I do. Kind of. Sequence of events are hazed. Things actually said are vague memories – and were immediately after they happened. Actions and demeanor are spot-on. At least in my mind. He’d have to confirm his take on my take.
M knew I was coming to town and with our busy schedules we had some overlap time. My door was open for him, I was on my knees, stripped, head hung down, next to the bed when he arrived. He never asked this of me – not verbally. It was expected – from both of us.
I was instructed to rise – and then M sat on the edge of the bed. I knelt and removed his shoes and socks, being careful to place them just so when they were off. All the while he sat their looking down at me. Appropriate.
Sooner than later, my face was directed to his crotch. It felt good. It felt right.
Clearly, I am a man made for sucking cock – and other things – but some feel more right there than others. While this can be a physical thing, it can also be more a mental or psychological one. Sometimes it is the perfect storm.
This is where things get muddled. The haze of what we did, what we said, etc. I think I opened myself up to so much and tried to take everything in, none of the specifics stuck. Well….not all of them. Some of them did.
M likes poppers. M likes me to like poppers. As with everything else I did with him, I took it one step further. If he held the popper bottle to each nostril for 30-45 seconds, I would inhale that long. The glee on his face that I would do that because he wanted was intense.
As with last time, if you read, M does not exhibit a lot of emotion. It’s not that he doesn’t have it - it is that he knows he doesn’t need to with someone like me. He knows that I know what he is thinking and feeling – at first meeting we both know we were on that same wavelength. There are/were so many things not said, that when they were, it was this overflow of weird feelings on my part.
Sounds corny when I write it out – right? It does to me.
There were moments of lust – his and mine. There were moments of needing and wanting to please (mine). There were moments of needing to be feel superior (his).
There were times as his hand held or cradled my head that it was very parental. I don’t know how to describe it any other way. It was commanding and yet still comforting. M encouraged me to ‘let go’. It was vague and yet not. He wanted to see what I could emote – verbally and none. It wasn’t a ploy (I don’t think) or a farce. He was flexing some mental muscle – but it was, in his own way, sincere.
I wanted to. I even might have. Emoted, that is. At least to a degree. As you can read in the previous 270+ posts, emotions are not my strong suit – at least displaying them. It is not that I’m a cold hard bastard (ok…maybe!), but there is a time and place for those and it is usually not during sex in hotel rooms with men I barely know.
Sex is an act, not an emotion.
So yes, not only have I learned to suppress that for most anyone – I have conditioned myself to not send or receive mixed messages. If nothing else, on “date” 2 – it would (and should?) scare the shit out of most guys – myself included.
But honestly, I don’t think M thinks that way. Having a guy open up leaves them vulnerable. This can be used for good or evil. I have no idea what he wants or what he wants to use it for. I just know I had to try to please him. At one point, when between his legs looking up (always me looking up!), he had a grin/sneer on his face. Hard to describe (again) but totally hot. I can’t remember why he had it, or what caused it, but he did.
I didn’t make anything up – but whatever came out of my mouth so weird (to me), but he seemed to dig it. Enough so, that I got his load in my mouth.
He dressed, again with my help. I resumed my position kneeling next to the bed, just like he found me. But like last time, our discussions as he was poised to leave turned him on enough to elicit another erection. He pulled out and stroked. And stroked.
M asked for the underwear I was going to wear that day. I retrieved them. He had me hold the inside of the pouch out for him. He unloaded his 2nd ejaculation into them. I wore them all day – just as he knew I would.
There wasn’t enough to make a mess of my pants or to show my clients, but anytime I went into a restroom, unzipping or unbuckling my pants, I could smell him. It lingered in my briefs and in my nostrils.
Just as he continues to linger in my thoughts.
My post about M had one of the most comment responses from my readership than any other post I’ve done. This is post #2 about M. It's not my standard sex post. Some will appreciate it. Others - not so much.
But things are fuzzy.
I’ve been blessed/cursed with an incredible memory – but things with M get me blurry from the word “go”. I think I am so distracted by this man, that I am finding it hard to separate fact from fantasy. Maybe there isn’t a separation and I need there to be. As comfortable I am in my own skin, M might push me to uncomfortable places. This post won’t be as clear and concise as many of you would like.
It’s not that I don’t remember the events – I do. Kind of. Sequence of events are hazed. Things actually said are vague memories – and were immediately after they happened. Actions and demeanor are spot-on. At least in my mind. He’d have to confirm his take on my take.
M knew I was coming to town and with our busy schedules we had some overlap time. My door was open for him, I was on my knees, stripped, head hung down, next to the bed when he arrived. He never asked this of me – not verbally. It was expected – from both of us.
I was instructed to rise – and then M sat on the edge of the bed. I knelt and removed his shoes and socks, being careful to place them just so when they were off. All the while he sat their looking down at me. Appropriate.
Sooner than later, my face was directed to his crotch. It felt good. It felt right.
Clearly, I am a man made for sucking cock – and other things – but some feel more right there than others. While this can be a physical thing, it can also be more a mental or psychological one. Sometimes it is the perfect storm.
This is where things get muddled. The haze of what we did, what we said, etc. I think I opened myself up to so much and tried to take everything in, none of the specifics stuck. Well….not all of them. Some of them did.
M likes poppers. M likes me to like poppers. As with everything else I did with him, I took it one step further. If he held the popper bottle to each nostril for 30-45 seconds, I would inhale that long. The glee on his face that I would do that because he wanted was intense.
As with last time, if you read, M does not exhibit a lot of emotion. It’s not that he doesn’t have it - it is that he knows he doesn’t need to with someone like me. He knows that I know what he is thinking and feeling – at first meeting we both know we were on that same wavelength. There are/were so many things not said, that when they were, it was this overflow of weird feelings on my part.
Sounds corny when I write it out – right? It does to me.
There were moments of lust – his and mine. There were moments of needing and wanting to please (mine). There were moments of needing to be feel superior (his).
There were times as his hand held or cradled my head that it was very parental. I don’t know how to describe it any other way. It was commanding and yet still comforting. M encouraged me to ‘let go’. It was vague and yet not. He wanted to see what I could emote – verbally and none. It wasn’t a ploy (I don’t think) or a farce. He was flexing some mental muscle – but it was, in his own way, sincere.
I wanted to. I even might have. Emoted, that is. At least to a degree. As you can read in the previous 270+ posts, emotions are not my strong suit – at least displaying them. It is not that I’m a cold hard bastard (ok…maybe!), but there is a time and place for those and it is usually not during sex in hotel rooms with men I barely know.
Sex is an act, not an emotion.
So yes, not only have I learned to suppress that for most anyone – I have conditioned myself to not send or receive mixed messages. If nothing else, on “date” 2 – it would (and should?) scare the shit out of most guys – myself included.
But honestly, I don’t think M thinks that way. Having a guy open up leaves them vulnerable. This can be used for good or evil. I have no idea what he wants or what he wants to use it for. I just know I had to try to please him. At one point, when between his legs looking up (always me looking up!), he had a grin/sneer on his face. Hard to describe (again) but totally hot. I can’t remember why he had it, or what caused it, but he did.
I didn’t make anything up – but whatever came out of my mouth so weird (to me), but he seemed to dig it. Enough so, that I got his load in my mouth.
He dressed, again with my help. I resumed my position kneeling next to the bed, just like he found me. But like last time, our discussions as he was poised to leave turned him on enough to elicit another erection. He pulled out and stroked. And stroked.
M asked for the underwear I was going to wear that day. I retrieved them. He had me hold the inside of the pouch out for him. He unloaded his 2nd ejaculation into them. I wore them all day – just as he knew I would.
There wasn’t enough to make a mess of my pants or to show my clients, but anytime I went into a restroom, unzipping or unbuckling my pants, I could smell him. It lingered in my briefs and in my nostrils.
Just as he continues to linger in my thoughts.
4 comments:
Well done--the post, the interaction. As someone who has read your blog for some time, and someone who knows you reasonably well, this is different. Unexpected, a departure from the norm. Emoting? In a hotel room? With this same guy, and for the second time? I must admit, I'm intrigued by this turn of events, this "interaction," that you're having with M. If you read my most recent blog post, then you should realize that I understand need to please. I will give your post more thought--it deserves it.
I once wore a guy's load, dried on my chest, all day for just the same reason, to have him and his scent on my body as long as possible.
M here ...
I would encourage others to comment on the this post .... I enjoying reading how BikeGuy sees himself vis a vis me and how others react to it.
OK, M, I'll take my thoughts a little bit further. What catches my attention is the ritual quality of this sexual encounter. BG13 knows what you want and he works to give it. he brings it full circle to end it (or so he thinks) with him in the same position by the bed as when you entered.
Ritual during sex doesn't work for me. I require both variety and spontaneity in my men and in how we fuck. I want to find out new things about him and let him explore me. If we do it doggie on the floor one time, then I want it standing, with him bent over his pool table the next time.
But I can understand a ritual approach because sex is part of my spiritual life. When two men are totally in sync, and preferably not in love but believe in sex as a shared and collaborative activity, I believe that their fuck can become a portal to the divine that's within us all.
He seems to have placed himself in a submissive position to you for reasons that I don't yet understand but to want to serve you and satisfy your needs--a fairly traditional role that religion demands of its followers.
Understand that I just found BG13's blog two days ago, so these are very first impressions.
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