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Note: This entry relates to issues I’m still thinking about, and may be later revised if I do any more braining. —— As I read the topics and posts of this forum, I am often struck with a sense that there are two different communities here, existing side-by-side, intermingling as though they were one, yet profoundly different. I’m not talking about the poz/neg divide, or the Top/bottom divide, or the chaser/non-chaser divide, or the divide between CD/TG and M/M attraction. I’m referring to the divide between those who live this lifestyle and those who live it vicariously - those for whom this is fantasy. Fantasy has been defined as “the faculty or activity of imagining things, especially things that are impossible or improbable”. A related concept is Cloud Cuckoo-Land, which is a calque of the ancient Greek Νεφελοκοκκυγία, coined by Aristophanes to describe an imaginary place where unrealistic people metaphorically reside. A discerning reader of these boards comes in time to develop a sense that some accounts of sexual adventure have the ring of truth; others, the stamp of fiction. This is not to say that there is anything wrong with those writings that express an aspiration rather than an experience - each heart must have its voice. But there are points at which the two currents cross where the difference is illuminated in contrast. For instance, on the question of “whether a true cumdump should be on PrEP”, the discussion is peppered with opinions to the effect that ‘a cumdump should take ANY and ALL toxic loads’. This is not a statement of a reasoned view; it does not consider the realistic human elements of the question that occur naturally to a person who has lived the experience; they are expressions of an imagined situational model, constructed to titillate the imaginer. Within the confines of the imaginer’s mind, this presents no issue. But injected into the arena of public discourse in the guise of experience, it muddies the waters of debate. A similar phenomenon bedevils the entire world of online gay cruising. Two groups are in the same arena, at first glance all in pursuit of the same objective, but in fact incompatibly dissimilar. On the one hand are those men genuinely attempting to meet others for real, person-to-person contact; and on the other, those whose goal is to achieve titillation by purely virtual means. The result is that the second group gets its satisfaction at the expense of the first. In a hypothetical scenario in which this forum could be successfully segregated into discrete areas, one for those discussing their actual lived experiences, and the other for those expressing their unlived fantasies, what would be the result? Would each group flourish, enabled to grow through purity of purpose? Or would the groups falter, each needing something that the other provides? Can the fantasists fully indulge in their internal creations without a voyeur’s ingestion of accounts from a real world where truth excites more than fiction? Would those who have made the choices to live sexually adventurous lives have done so without original exposure to the products of fantasy? For my part, I find the problem particularly difficult in that the true narrative of my sexual life over the last 15 years is so outside the norm that it reads like fiction. Because of the hyperbolic statements and writings men make in expression of their sexual fantasies, I run the distinct risk of my real story being dismissed as fantasy. It is as though I have encountered an actual minotaur in an actual labyrinth and been actually fucked by him with his 11” bull-cock (true story; just substitute ‘marine’ for ‘minotaur’ and ‘Fort Knox’ for ‘labyrinth’) and nobody on earth will believe that it happened to me because, well, that’s outrageous, for God’s sake. I’m actually going to try to publish an explicit written account of my experiences, but I’ll have no choice but to change the names of people and places to protect the... well, to protect the complicit. And that will do nothing but give it more of the flavor of fantasy. It makes me want to climb onto the roof of the bathhouse and shout to all the world - “I HAVE BEEN FUCKED BY MORE MEN IN MORE WAYS IN MORE PLACES THAN YOU COULD POSSIBLY BELIEVE AND I WANT TO DO EVERY BIT OF IT AGAIN TOMORROW AFTER A GANGBANG TONIGHT - I LOVE COCK AND CUM AND I GIVE SWEET, SWEET ASS, I’M A SLUTTY CUMDUMP SLUT AND I’M NOT ASHAMED OF IT ONE FUCKING BIT!” And I can hear the guys in the parking lot below going, “Pft. Listen to that. He’s probably never had his lips around a cock in his life. Bless.” So I guess those of us who are really, truly, bravely, boldly living the dream must take our satisfaction in the experiences themselves, separated from the world of sexual fantasy that swirls around us. Isn’t that ironic? This is ErosWired, reporting from Cloud Cuckoo-Land.

So, I was caught in the act. My hotel neighbour was out on his balcony having a simple phone call and he glanced over to watch me getting plowed in numerous positions before having my top guy blast inside me. Certainly not what he expected when he stepped outside. I admit, I was slightly embarrassed at the fact that I left the curtain open, unaware that anyone could have been watching. When he saw my shocked face once I went to the door afterwards, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Instead, he grabbed his bulge and gave me a quick wink. Standing there in my grey boxer-briefs, I nodded back. He disappeared back in his room, and I could only hope he was going to make his way over. I heard a knock on my door a minute later, and let him in. I still looked very sheepish, as if I had done such a bad thing by putting myself in a position to be watched. Gladly, it didn't seem to bother him one bit. The door shut behind him, and I was immediately ordered on my knees. I unsnapped his trousers to find a sizeable bulge wrapped in tight white briefs. I was instantly turned on - I failed to mention that my neighbour was a dark-skinned black guy and the contrast of the white against his dark skin was more than enough to whet my appetite. I barely pulled his jeans over his front protrusion, and he grabbed the back of my head and pushed me onto his bulge. "Sniff it boy." My mouth right up against it and I took a waft of cock and started licking the outline of his ball sack. I started working my way onto his shaft and followed the leftward tilt of his protrusion before being yanked back front-and-centre. "Not yet. I'll tell you when." I kept my place, opening my mouth a bit to take a mouthful of cotton-wrapped testicles in, licking all around. A couple minutes in, he asked if I wanted it. I replied back "Yes, sir!" and he moved my head over to the side and pulled his hangers out. I took the left one into my mouth and worked it for a bit, hearing his gentle moans; then moved over to the right one to repeat. I then licked the base of his shaft, my mouth practically begging for the taste of his cock. He tugged his waistband upwards just enough to where the rest of it fell out in front of me - all 9 inches of it, cut and thick. I worked my mouth up the shaft to the head and engulfed the tip inside my lips. A cock this big was going to take some practice, but I was fully prepared for it. A deep breath, and then I went down as far as I possibly could. I couldn't make it all the way down, but maybe about 7 or 8 inches of it, where my ears were greeted with a big sigh of pleasure. I did my usual oral magic on it; started out relatively slow and working my way more intensely. Every few minutes, going all the way down on it (or as much as I could) and holding position. Soon, it was more than he could bear. "Now it's my turn slut boy" Having seen my previous encounter, he knew what I liked and how. He flipped me over onto the bed and noticed the bottle of brand new poppers. Grabbing them, he twisted the cap open and held to my right nostril. "Til the count of 10. One, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.....9 1/2....10" I heard him spit into his hand, which he used to rub against my already jizzed hole. Then the left nostril, where he counted slightly slower. "One, 2, 3....4.....5.....6....7, 8, 9........Ten" My brain was swirling. This is a brand new bottle, so they were still quite strong. He then took a deep hit of his own and pushed his way in. It felt absolutely massive! At least 2 inches longer than my previous guy and a bit thicker. I could feel him opening me up even more, pushing the wad of cream already there deeper inside. I can tell when he felt it too, as his moaning got louder as his dick sunk deeper in. Thank god for those poppers, though. His cock was so big that my moans and grunts were quite loud. He grabbed my shoulder and kept my upper body pressed against the bed while he worked my upturned ass. He fucked quite aggressively and with purpose; owning my hole the entire time. "Take that big dick, slut. Let me breed that cunt." I couldn't control my noises while he pounded away. The pillows didn't dampen it much. He just kept laying it in me, grunting and talking dirty to me for the next 10 minutes. At a certain point, I felt the head get more plump and rigid. He was ready to spray. "Take my cum bitch! You want it?" "PLEASE, sir. Cum inside me!" "Fuck yeah, fuck yeah, FUUUCK!" I felt a really warm sensation deep inside me as I heard some of the loudest orgasmic grunts in my life. All nine inches pulsing, dumping a second load in my already wet cunt. At least seven strong squirts before somewhat subsiding, he kept it in for another minute and I could feel the minor spurts every 5 seconds or so. He didn't take it out until I milked every last drop. After he did, I felt a strong slap on my ass-check and could hear him pull up his jeans and button up. Without words, he left while I still lay face down on the bed in total ecstasy. It was easily five minutes before I could stand back up. Once I did, my legs were practically like jelly. I'd barely been there three hours and had some of the most intense sex of my life. It had only just now gotten dark outside. I made my way over to the shower wondering if I should go out that night to try and get more dick; but a part of me didn't think I could beat the experience of the last two guys who came over. After a little bit of time, I threw on a tanktop, jockstrap, and jeans and made my way down the street. I figure I'll have a couple of drinks first and decide from there. If this is how the first day went, I couldn't have imagined how the rest of it would go... **to be continued**

Five years ago, I uprooted my entire life in America for the opportunity of a lifetime: the chance to live and work in London! I met with a fuckbuddy of mine stateside not long after finding out. He was a bit disappointed, as we would no longer be having sex so often, but he mentioned that once I got settled in, I should take a trip to Berlin and really pig out. Specifically, he suggested I turn up during Folsom week and I did just that. Booked my trip that year, and planned on staying around a few days and tour around (as I'd never been there before). I had a plan: spend the first few days taking cock after cock until I couldn't take it anymore and blast my pent up load into some lucky bottom boy on the last day. Good plans, though, never seem to pan out as you'd think though. Leading up to the week of Folsom, I had some hot action with a couple guys in London. Both, as it turned out, lived in Berlin for brief periods of time and gave me the lowdown of what to do and where to go. That turned out to be far more helpful than I could imagine. They were also some hot fucks, too, but I'll save that for a later post. ? Turning up on Thursday afternoon, the Folsom weekend was just getting started. After needing to catch my flight out of London at an obscenely early time of the day, I checked into my hotel near Schoneberg and took a small cat-nap. I awoke to the most torrential rainstorm I'd seen in ages. Thankfully, it didn't last too long. I made my way down to the centre of Schoneberg and started exploring. Popped into a few shops that sold various leather and fetish gear. I had to get myself ready for the weekend that would ensue. Picked up some lube, a harness, a new black jockstrap, and two t-shirts: one that just said "bottom" and a second that said "toxic". I had plans for both >:-) It was a few hours until the evening events started, so I fired up the apps to check out the potential. One guy asked if I was headed to the naked party that night at Lab.oratory. I wasn't aware of that one, and I also had a fear of just being nude. At this time, I wasn't too in-shape, but not too out-of-shape either. I figured to just throw caution to the wind, though, and make my way there, having no expectations. I arrived where I was handed a bag for my things and directed to the changing room where I undressed to everything but my shoes. A hot young attendant then wrote a number on my shoulder in black marker and sent me on my way to enjoy the evening. I really had no idea where to begin. This place was HUGE! And the men kept flowing in, one by one. Many different ages, shapes, and body types. I think that put me a little more at ease. It wasn't long before a younger guy approached me, and started stroking my cock. He was definitely looking to bottom, which I wasn't planning to do so early in the weekend. That didn't stop a bit slut like me though, and we found a spot and ravished each other for a bit. I made it a point to stop short before blasting off, though, as once I shoot my wad it's very difficult and painful for me to bottom right afterwards. We took a breather, and I told him to find me later on; figure if he really wanted my load, he'd find me at the end of the night when I was ready to blast it off. The night continued and soon enough, an older guy came up to me and started chatting me up a bit. We snuck off to a corner, and again started stroking me like the bottom he was. So far, my weekend wasn't going according to plan. I didn't turn him down, though, and gladly fucked him for a while - making sure not to blast off a load too early. Many bottom men abound that night. I continued on for a bit where I was mostly topping. Carried on until I was ready to go, and found my young boy from earlier. We found a small corner, and I resumed working his tight perky hole. I'm sure like most bottoms that evening, he was expecting me to get close and then stop again. He was wrong. I did tease him a bit, though, and stopped stroking once I got close, but left my cock inside. Once coming off the edge, I slowly started again. He moaned in mild pleasure that I didn't just pull out and move on. I kept going, slowly working up the pace until edging again. As before, I thrusted my whole cock inside and stopped until the feeling of bursting subsided. Then I started the slow fucking again. It was at this second go that my bottom boy knew something was different. He started to think he was finally going to have a man go all the way and blast him with the sticky goodness we both knew he wanted so badly. I wasn't going to let him go without a tease and edged myself a third time before backing down. It was then that my boy knew I was going to breed him and started begging. I started slow fuck #4 and worked my way up slower than before. It's at this point that I must say that since I grew up in America, I obviously am circumcised. One benefit of that is that it seems that once my cock gets close to cumming hard, the cock head gets super firm. If you're a bottom, you definitely notice this. My bottom boy could feel after each edging session that my head was feeling more and more plump. Stroking a little more definitively on my fourth round, this was VERY noticeable. I looked him in the eye, gave him a slight nod and whispered "yeah". Even with a language barrier, a bottom knows when this means. I start working myself up more and more and then slammed my whole shaft in and let loose. Each intense spurt emptying inside his ass painting his insides milky white. He exclaimed in passion feeling every last drop of my seed emptying into him. We gave each other a finishing kiss, and I sent him on his way, whispering "now you're lubed up for the next one" as I let him walk off. I went back to the changing room and got dressed. Made the long trek back to the hotel and went to sleep hoping that tomorrow would deliver the action I desperately wanted and deserved. To my excitement, it did.... **to be continued""