Sunday, June 26, 2016

Nerd Fuck

The title of this post is a spoiler alert – no?

I bet you keep reading anyways.

You’ve heard my tales of blowing the big-dicked Nerd. This has been going on and off for a while now – maybe 6-8 months. Maybe longer, I’d have to go look.

I wish it would be more ‘on’ than ‘off’. I think he thinks it is just flattery when I coo and tell him I could suck his dick every single day of my life. It’s a fact.

It really is one of the most perfect cocks I’ve ever had the chance to play with. Sure, there have been bigger, but something about his solid 8 inches is just great. It hangs heavy but still stands up when fully aroused – which doesn’t take much… least from my experience.

The man has had trouble getting around, as he fractured his foot and leg. He is finally off crutches and into a boot, but still, it’s harder to move than usual. Even coming up the few stairs into my place is slow going.

Normally he just stands in the kitchen and leans against the counter. I go to my knees and orally service him.

It is unfortunate that he is easily excitable. Or maybe I just overexcite him. I am not one to pat myself on the back, but I have a really good mouth. It’s possible that he might not be able to fight off my superior skills. What mortal man could?

I kid – of course. Plenty can – and do.

Still, Nerd guy and I have a rapport. He loves playing with my tits because he know it gets me riled. And he knows when I’m riled, I provide excellent service.

Lately, we have been starting standing, face to face. Pants open up. Pants drop. There is some touchy- feely action going on. I get to weigh his cock in my hand. It’s heavy.

Our breathing gets heavy. We even get close physically, yet I feel kissing him is beyond his comfort level. It’s just a feeling, so lips have never met lips.

I tremble when he plays with my tits. He trembles if my mouth gets close to his ear. When I do suck him, his legs literally shake. I’d like to say I’m good – and I am – but the man is wired for sex, though by looking at him, you might not know it.

Nerd has felt my ass cheeks, even running his finger under my nuts and lightly running his finger over my hole. It feels good. The implication is that he’d like to fuck, but the times we’ve been together are haphazard scheduling and right after work - - there is no ‘prep’ time, if you know what I mean. …..and I think you do.

But this fateful day, I never went to my knees. We stood there playing with each other. He grabbed my ass – I didn’t stop him. I spit in my hand and put hand-to- cock. His cock.

With no fanfare, I was turned around. His pants fell further down his legs than they already were. He shuffled those few steps – pants were an issue as was the boot he was wearing.

If there was additional lube, I never heard him release spit into his hand or down onto his shaft. But I felt it. The lack of proper lube, but I’m not complaining.

For such a gentle soul – and you know at work and in social life he’s probably a wallflower – when it comes to fucking he is brutal. #I don’t mean that in a bad way.

I don’t think he knows he’s being rough. I don’t think he knows he has no finesse. He actually might have that, but his excitement level was high, and sometimes anything other than blind lust isn’t an option. And I really don’t think he understands how big and thick his cock are.

One thing I do know is that he likes being up the ass – all the way…..deep. To get a cock that size balls deep there is force behind it. And even partially incapacitated by that boot, he had some leverage.

Nerd had me pinned between him and the kitchen counter. There was no escape – not that I was looking for one. I was reaching for the other side of to hold onto just to steady myself from the pounding. That I did need.

He was slightly grunting. Mine was much more than ‘slightly’.

I felt the positioning was not right for this fuck, but I had zero intention of stopping this barreling locomotive. He wanted this. I wanted and needed this.

When I blow the Nerd, I feel I have more control over his orgasm than he does. That is if I’m doing my job correctly and looking for all the signs. But I can change my behavior based on those signs if the blowjob is to prolonged. That is only sometimes. There are a few that I was slightly unprepared for his release.

With the ass fucking, I had less control over how anything went. And in a way, that’s how it should be. Sure, I have my ass muscles to massage and milk his shaft, but we didn’t know each other “this way”, so I didn’t know what trigger points with which to work.

I know that Nerd somewhat cared if I was feeling good, but for the most part it was about how his cock was feeling. And going by his noises and movements, things were a-ok.

His cock is large and thick. It was completely filling my hole. I could feel my ass walls just hugging his shaft. Sure he could stretch the hole out a little, depending on how long he fucked, but for now, it was a nice grip, a nice fill.

Still, the man is a pounder.

Rough. Insistent. Now.

I swear I felt his cock hit different places than I had never been touched. I don’t think that was due to the size of his dick as much as it was the angle. Or maybe it was the combo.

I’d be lying if I said it was a pleasurable fuck from my end. I was getting immense pleasure that he was getting into it and eventually off on it. But there were jabs and strokes that made nerve twinge and not always in a good way.

Lest you think I am complaining, I am not. During this – and with other fucks and sucks – I am reminded that this is where I am meant to be. Their pleasure is more important than mine. My physical pleasure doesn’t even have to exist. However, my mental pleasure was off the charts….which is one reason I think I don’t have to physically get off myself that often.

I tried hitting the poppers to relax a little more, but I think we were too far into the fuck for them to effectively work. They might have been a momentary distraction, one that would give me a splitting headache later on, as they always do.

Fucking with Nerd lasted longer than sucking. Maybe he was better at controlling his orgasm when he’s putting pipe to butt.

But it was good. In most every way.

He was exhausted and a little sheepish when done. But that’s ok. That’s his nature. He went from aggressive fucker to wallflower in a matter of two minutes after cumming. It was a very empty feeling for me when he slid out.

We both enjoyed the entire event very much – on different levels, but that’s the way that works.

Not for nothing, but the KISS guy came by shortly thereafter – like 10 minutes after. Not a word was said about a previous visitor. I was wondering if a guy will truly notice another load up there or not, especially with as big of a one as the Nerd usually shoots

I’m not saying he noticed or not, but honest to god, the fuck lasted all of 90 seconds. Maybe it was his dire need, or maybe the feeling of an extra warm ass – mostly the load – just set him off.

Either way, I sat around with two loads deep in my hole.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Boston Bathroom Hottie at CLAW

It was the closing day of CLAW. It’s always a little sad on many levels. The folks are bleary-eyed from the night before. They wander the vendor floor in search of anything they might have seen but where holding off on purchasing. And worst of all, people are packing up and leaving.

It’s not so much that I’m sad to see them go, but packing up, having to check out by a certain time – coupled with their late waking time due to the night before – leaves little opportunity to find someone and to use their room. And you have to deal with their partners, boys, Sirs, or messy roommates, and hope they have somewhere else to be as well.

 ….and yet, everyone is looking for that one last hook-up. Myself included. Or maybe especially.

If I’m being honest, my area of the vendor mart was dead on Sunday. While I was slated to work and showed up, I didn’t really stick around. I too was working under that check-out time window, and it was

The hotel lobby on this day is the hubbub of activity. People passing through to load up their car, get breakfast or you know, cruise the lobby itself. I was doing the latter.

While there, I saw the guy who fucked me in the sling. And I saw the guy who fucked me all over his room the day before. But I sat there, watching the parade of leather, latex, uniforms and flesh. In my mind, I played the ‘would I’ game. You know the one – would I sleep with them? How about him? …and

But mostly it was just people watching. Including a few guys who were sitting on a sofa talking. I noticed them, but didn’t NOTICE them. At least from my vantage point, nothing stood out in any way. As I was just pacing and looking at my phone – because even here, folks use the hook-up apps all the time – a few guys walked past. One I noticed – older, maybe late 40s, great build as he clearly works out, short dark hair covered in a Boston Red Sox cap. Never seemingly looking my way, he passed with his posse and went toward the bank of elevators.

A minute later, there is a tap on my shoulder. It’s him. ….my first thought was “what the what…..?”

 He leans and tells me, “you are so fucking hot – I couldn’t just walk away without saying anything to
My second thought was, “what the what???????” It felt like I was being pranked.

He leaned in closely to speak. His voice was low, sexy and exciting. His talk was dirty. His touch was strong. His keys were clipped to the left side, I knew to end my sentences with “Sir”. The first time he heard me say it, his head moved away from mine to look at me with a knowing glance – non-verbally confirming that I was correct in my approach.

You see, I don’t necessarily label myself with a name, title or decorative wares. People hope I’m a top, and maybe a little surprised and disappointed when I’m not. I might be sexually submissive, but I’m not sure I’d say I’m a Sub and I’m most definitely not a slave.

I think he was pleased with me addressing him the way I did. He told me he wanted me – and I told him I wanted him to do whatever he needed. He liked that too. Alas, he had no place. Whomever he was with was in their room, packing up for the trip back to Beantown. I was dead serious when I said I would even do him in the hotel lobby bathroom.

He snickered, but I noticed he didn’t actually say ‘no’. He seemed to be contemplating things. And for the record, I was thinking of the rear of the lobby where there were two restrooms. But he asked if I was ok with one – and he pointed – over there, off to the side near the front of the lobby. I nodded. He led the way. I followed at a respectable distance, though any of the fags who were watching (and there were a few) had to know what we were doing.

When I entered, I saw him briefly in the handicapped stall, then he stood out of sight in case anyone else walked in the restroom. I entered the stall, closed and secured the door. A door that went fully to

Sir Joe – as by now he had told me to call him - pushed me over to the wall and planted his lips on mine. For a forceable kiss, he was good at it. He also pawed at my tits until finding the nipple and both got a very rough squeeze. I didn’t make a sound, save for maybe a slight gasp in the breath. More excitement than pain. He seemed to enjoy getting a reaction. With his mouth near my ear, he hissed, “right now, you’re mine”.

I was. And I was fucking thrilled to be.

While just in a t-shirt and jeans (and the ball cap) the man had an incredible body. Clearly he works out a lot and lifts, but is not ‘roided out. And he has rough hands, which is not a bad thing at all – and while he told me his profession, it’s not technically manual labor, though to look at him, that would be your

Soon his pants were opened and his cock came out. It was a nice cock, about 7” and thin. I don’t know what I was expecting, but you know, I was hoping it would be fatter and a little longer. I mean, a boy can dream.

I was guided to my knees. I took him in my mouth and did what I do oh so well. He seemed to love my mouth and he certainly went to town on my chest. Let’s just say by the time we were done – not to jump ahead – my tits were fucking sore. Well, more sore, as a lot of the guys this weekend really worked them over, to the point they were almost chapped, if that is possible.

The man knows how to fuck a mouth. He knows how to grasp a head. He knows how to use.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he can be completely selfish when it comes to sex – and I’m 100% completely fine with that. But this was more than that – he was being selfish not for being a dick reason, he was doing it because he knew he could and that I would be a very willing recipient – and he knew it even though it was not really discussed at that level. It’s all about how to read your partner.

While it was CLAW, it was still a public restroom, so we had to be as discreet as possible. People were coming and going, using the stall next to ours - for legitimate purposes - and the urinals. So we had to keep quiet. Any talk was right into each others ear, or silently conveyed with a look, a raise of an eyebrow or a finger, pointing for me to do something.

The only audible piece would have been Sir Joe's belt. The buckle would rhythmically hit the marble floor or wall. The sound was timed, as it was moving with his hips as he fucked my face. Any amateur sleuth could have deduced we were doing one of two things in there.

I SO wanted to do the second one, but Sir Joe, while being a sport, really wasn't into restroom / public sex this way. He was there for my benefit and I had to respect his wishes. And so I "settled" for giving him head.

With only a few minutes left - as I knew he had to check out - he held my head against the marble wall and shot his cum right into my mouth.

As I do with so many men, I then guided his hand to my throat, so he could feel me swallow that spunk. He smiled. Grinned, actually.

We got ourselves together. We left together. We exchanged digits, as he expected to hear from me later (and has).

If I'm ever in Boston, he'll know it.

Wednesday, June 08, 2016

Hump and Thump

He was on my Scruff ‘nearby’ listing. The picture wasn’t the best, but he showed a lot more promise than most. And I fully recognize that people don’t always capture the best selfie to promote themselves. I also get that people choose certain pics thinking those will funnel the kind of guys they want. It’s a crap shoot.

But his pic piqued my interest. And while he said he was ‘vers’, I directed my comments to “Sir”. This seemed to engage him in sporadic conversation. But he said he’d stop by my area at CLAW when time allowed. That Saturday, time allowed.

As I assumed, he was better looking in person, and taller than I imagined. 6’4” apparently. Maybe a little over 200lbs, shaved head, goatee – greying a bit, nice eyes that could smile and sneer depending on his mood. And a good 7” (or so I’d find out later) with a slight upward curve.

 He walked up to me, grabbed me by the back of the head and pulled me in for a kiss. It was a little surprising, as we hadn’t even exchanged names (ok, so maybe that part isn’t so strange). He told me what room he was in and that he was going up to take a little nap, but to just knock on the door when I was ready.

The thing about me and CLAW is, that I’m always working. And since I’d been there for 2 plus days with no play time during work time (all those other encounters happened before or after my work) I talked myself into that everyone else did sessions and whatnot, so why shouldn’t I just take an extended break.

So I did.

I gave him an hour to nap and then was knocking on room 725’s door.

He opened the door and escorted me in.

As this was in an Embassy Suites, if you’re familiar with the set-up, the front room has a sofa, table and chairs…..and a large window that looks out onto the hallway, should one not close the curtain. His curtain was partially open. And while I was just fine to have fun out there for the passers-by to watch, it was the housekeeping staff he could do without. I get that. So we took it back to the bedroom, though we didn’t shut the door.

The man was all over me, and me of him. I found him incredibly sexy. I shouldn’t wait to write some of these stories. I partially hold off to get some perspective (and to block time to really commit to writing the encounter), but I fear I lose some detail. I can’t remember if we kissed in the actual room. I remember the vendor floor, but not in the hotel room. I have to believe we did.

The other details I have down – so no worries there.

The man was rough. Or rough-ish. Harder than most could take, not as hard as some men I’ve known. He manhandled. Thinking of it now, I’m sure we kissed. As we did, he worked my nipples. Light and hard. He’d pull away from my face now and then and raise an eyebrow, as if to nonverbally ask if that was too much. My answer however was verbal: “you’re never going to hear me say the word ‘stop’”. He grinned. I wasn’t sure if that sneer was for a positive response to my reply, or if he were taking up some secret challenge. Or both.

Oddly, I did not use my oral skills on him. Not even briefly. Well, let me rephrase a bit – not on his cock. I did lick his shitter quite a bit. And he sat on my face. So, technically, that is oral sex, no? But for the most part, sex was relegated to the butt. Mine, in particular.

I loved his bedside table. Because apparently, you can never have too many poppers and some lube. Of course, it didn’t escape me from what was missing from the surface. And the joke is, we never touched the lube either. Spit was our friend. I like it better anyways.

We started with me bent over.

I won’t say the entry was rough, but he was determined. I wanted it. He wanted in it. And he was ready to plough the fields. I’m a trooper and I said I wouldn’t say ‘stop’ and I didn’t. And he was a trooper – the man knew how to pump ass. My lord, the man knew how to fuck.

He fucked me that way for a while. Then on my back. Then on all fours on the floor. One of the better – or at least more fun times – was up against the window from his room. To the outside, not the interior hallway. Alas, it was daylight, so anyone looking up would have had a harder time seeing than had it been night and we were backlit by his bedroom lights. But he had a great sense of humor talking to the people below – as if they could hear him (the windows didn’t open). But he had me splayed up against that window for a while, my left leg bent out and up, giving him easier access to what was now his hole – at least his hole to use.

While he was doing that, I noticed some heavy leather covered…..devices (?) on the table. Not being able to keep my mouth shut, I asked what they were. He called them ‘thumpy sticks’….or something like that. It seemed to be metal bar with one end having some sort of cushion, but then that was wrapped in a heavy duty leather. Well the name wasn’t enough for me, I had to ask what they were for – so he showed me.

He took one and hit my chest with it. Once was fine, Twice and three times were good. But I could see how this could and would progress and how thumpy could become hurty – but maybe in a good way.

One he was done, he proceeded to punch my chest. Hard. Very hard. And repeatedly.

I let this go one for a while, even wincing, but never saying the ‘stop’ word. Though that being said, I pulled a passive-aggressive dick move when I said, “not that I’m saying ‘stop’, but if I were ever to, this might be the place I would say it”. He laughed, hit me a few more times and quit.

I have to say, we never talked about hitting, but after the thumpy stick, I think he was testing limits. He chuckled when I mentioned he probably took a boxing class – though he denied it. He might be a natural at that though.

We took it back to the bed. This time he lay back. I licked his nuts, but not his cock. I don’t know why. I’m good with ass-to- mouth, but we weren’t about that. He told me to ride him, and I did. He just relaxed – well except for the erect penis – and I sat on him. And I fucked myself on his cock. He’d reach up and play with my tits – sometimes soft, sometimes not.

After a bit of that, he had to think about getting ready for some dinner and bar crawl. Sounds great when you’re 28, not 48. So he wanted to wrap it up – the session, not the cock – as he told me I was not leaving without his load.

Who the fuck am I to argue that point?

“Get face down on the bed”. It wasn’t a request. I hurried up and had my face down in the pillow, my legs apart. He spat into his hand, climbed on top and punched it in and went deep.

As much as we fucked before – in every other position – here he was unrelenting. Before it was for pleasure, his and mine (not that he cared about mine). But now, he had a goal. The goal was always there, but now it was in sight. And if it wasn’t in sight before – he was making damn sure he saw light at the end of the tunnel……even though the tunnel he was in had zero visibility.

I’m talking about my butthole……get it? Get it??

This went on for a good 10 minutes. We were both sweating, his chest sticking to my back. His balls slapping my ass. His thighs hitting mine. My teeth stereotypically biting the pillow.

The roar he made upon cumming would have scare your average hotel guest – as they would have heard it. At CLAW, someone probably stopped, shrugged their shoulders, and went on their way.

I remained in position long after he pulled out – or long in terms of post-fucking by a stranger. But I had to get up. He had to go and well, I had been away from my area now for 90 wonderful minutes.

He slapped my ass as I dressed, hoping we’d have another chance (we didn’t).

Upon getting back to my positon, someone asked where I was and did I do anything. I replied I didn’t do something, but I did do someone.

I was too much of a gentlemen to tell them what or who. But yet, you all know something the guy asking never got any 4-1-1 on.

I won’t say this was the best encounter I had. It’s in the top two. The next one might rival this – but for different reasons. Both have their merits.

Sunday, June 05, 2016


Yes, with all the men at CLAW, I had yet another repeat. It's the devil you think you know.

This Sir I had been corresponding with for a while and met up with three years ago. That was great and very memorable.

I saw him last year as well, but out schedules never meshed for a second go round. We both had competing opportunities. It's all good.

The plan was, this year, to meet up again. The plan was to have more frozen sperm for my asshole. And to add fresh to it as well. And while we texted and emailed, we had both been there a few days, but not crossed paths. And he was there with a boy.

Now, I will admit to be savvy in some things, but the Boy / Sir thing still throws me. I see it time and time again. Yes, he had a boy, but the boy was spending time with his Master. And to be clear, the Sir was not his Master. I always think of slavery - in the homo world - to be owned by a man. Maybe lent out, but not to have another dom in the non-polyamorous relationship.

Call me old-fashioned, if I had a true Sir, I'd answer only to him.

I'm sure they all have it worked out, I just do not understand all the dynamics. That's on me, not them.

We missed each other the first day or two, but one morning I was headed to his room. But the best laid plans......well, you know the rest of that phrase.

RC was there and still hot as ever. It did not bode well for me when he started off the conversation that he'd been out until late and got off with any number of guys. In the back of my head, I felt this would make it more difficult for me to ascertain his semen. But at least I'd have the frozen batches he had with him.

Well, I would have had them, had he brought them.  Semi-strike two.

The great thing with RC is that he still has his attitude - one of superiority, at least over me. He has the verbal chops. He has the right ideas. Or you could make an argument that they are the wrong ones. I like the wrong ones.

To start off, it was just him and myself. I thought a third would be there, but was not upon my arrival. Of course I sucked - at least that's how we started out. I also took a few fingers up my ass as well.

I did notice that RC was having trouble maintaining an erection while I sucked and while we played. I was hoping to change that, but I was having very little luck in that department.  Going by his schedule the previous day, I didn't fret to much that he wasn't excited about me.

When it came to fucking, he couldn't quite get his dick there. He kept saying how tight I was.

And where I'd like to be virgin tight sometimes, in all honesty, I am not. You read this blog - you know I can't be.

The reality was he wasn't hard enough. I didn't say anything, but was hoping our dirty talk and our history would get him to the point of penetration. It did, but not for long enough. While blowing him - again - he was texting his friend. Soon there was a knock on the door.

He came in - mixed race, average height and looks. His pants came off and his cock was meaty. Thick, long enough. Big nuts.

Soon my head was hanging off the bed while he plunged his shaft down my throat. With me taking it to the root.

The man made me gag. And I do like to be gagged. I swear I could taste his last night exploits on him. But I was having the same issues. Or he was - a full dick, but not a particularly hard one.

The second guy tried to fuck me too. Again, he said I was too tight, when I could feel a drooping noodle hitting my crack.

I get there is a certain stigma to not being able to get up, but when did the bottom being "too tight" become the cop out for that? I get it's not really a put-down to call me too tight, but they had no trouble saying it. And I wouldn't dare point out to them that it's not me - it's you, but clearly it wasn't reciprocal on their end.

I guess the ego needs to be protected. I get it. Especially when you're a top.

I tried sucking both again. I even ate ass.

Pulling cheeks apart to get to the pucker so my tongue would go in deeper. I tasted the funk and I was fine with that.

The second guy tried to fuck me again - with no success. But RC was hard-ish and jacking.  He told me to get on my stomach and I did. With a swift entry, he planted deep and unloaded.

I can't say I got fucked, but I was a depository for his load - and to him, that is all I was anyway. He's made that clear in the past.

That was enough to get guy two to unload on my hole and it was pushed in. All of it.

It seem for here, I wasn't a fuck, but a load collector. And that would just have to be ok.

It was firmly implanted.

And soon I was dressed and on my way.