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Hello beautiful, I’ll make you a deal: we won’t be talking about Phil today. I’ve been chatting with this guy on Hinge. His name is Suf, and the really cool thing we’ve started doing is sending voice memos. He’s pretty good at texting too, but I wanted to use voice more—to express my thoughts in a raw and intimate way—and he was on board with it from the beginning. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m learning piano and singing, which makes me more focused on sound these days, but he’s got a really great talking voice. Warm, safe, comfy. It’s the kind of voice I wouldn’t mind listening to while lying beside him in bed as he talks about his day. I want to share something else with you, buddy. Our old man is going to tell us one day to let love surprise us. In the past, we’ve always dated people close by, and they’ve all been Vietnamese, haven’t they? Lately, I’ve been more open—to people who live further away, even to those from different backgrounds. It’s not because I think the local Vietnamese dating pool is limited. I just think the person we’ll fall for might not be who we expect. They might fall outside our age bracket, come from a different culture, or be something else entirely. I’m learning to open the door to whoever decides to walk through it and meet me where I am—with warmth and kindness. And on that topic, we need to talk about appearance too. I’ve been pretty picky so far, swiping left or right based on looks. But I’m easing up on that now. Of course appearance matters, but we’ve known for a long time that it fades. That’s why we chose Kevin, isn’t it? Not because he was a model, but because he loved us more than anyone else did. When we’re old and wrinkly, only love will outlast what we look like. So now, I’m choosing based on how people make me feel. It’s as simple as that. In other news, I think I’ll defer my singing lessons for a term. I’ve tried doing both piano and singing at once, and I’m struggling hard to balance the two. They’re both new to me, and I’m leaning more toward piano right now. The plan is to finish off this half-term with singing, take the remaining term off to focus solely on piano, and then resume both in term four. I think that’s a smart move. I’m still in the honeymoon phase with piano, and it’s already hard enough trying to remember where the F key is, let alone singing on pitch while I play. Let’s see where this messy ride takes us. Love you, buddy. Chat soon xx

My Playroom—June, 2024 So, it was now two trips to my usual sexual haunts—and two rather mediocre experiences. Neither were horrible, but neither really got off the ground (or got me off.) On the trip home from the second one, I realized that some of it was just that odd period of adjustment I always get when I come home from something like Fornication Weekend (or IML or CLAW.) At those weekend events, everything is focused on sex and pleasure. One of the great things about those weekends is the feeling that sex is everywhere around you. Every man you see may be a possible partner. Everyone is looking and hoping…and connecting. And I think it’s fair to say that the attendees of such weekends (who usually play more often even in their normal lives) are likely to have greater skills—certainly better than one of the men at the lounge who told me he got away from his wife only once a month so he could try to find a cock to suck. Practice! Practice!! Practice!!! Fortunately for me, the hot bottom who’d attended the group session at the top of the month, had contacted me. He wanted some one-on-one time. He was eager to see the playroom. He made the drive down on the very last day of June… He looks great. We are likely around the same age. He is shorter than I remember, now that I see him out of the sling. He has maintained with a regular gym routine. His chest is defined and covered in that salt and pepper fur that drives me crazy. He strips down in the playroom to a well-worn blue jock and black boots. “I remembered your boots at the party, so I brought these along.” He looks great. And I love that he’d been observant about my kinks and fetishes… I am in the dirtiest of my jocks, stained from its heavy use at Fornication Weekend with all that cum that was in David-SF’s ass during our climatic fuck. I lean against the fuck bench, my legs spread. Salt & Pepper, as I christened him in the group write-up, comes over. He kneels, eye level with the obscene bulge in my jock. He inhales. And sighs. He buries his nose in the fabric. “You’ve been busy.” I tell him a little about Fornication Weekend as he begins tonguing the rough, fragrant fabric. He moans a little, recognizing some of the pornsters. He peels back the cloth and my dick springs out, slapping his nose. He gobbles me down. He’s good. His mouth is wet. At our first meeting, he only sucked me after each time we fucked. Now I’m getting the full treatment—and I am loving it. He moves to my balls with no direction from me. He leaves them wet and slimy, as he licks up my column of flesh and swallows me down once more. “Get up on the bench.” He does. He mentions the mirror dead ahead of him. I point out the one to the side, that shows him his whole body. He watches as my face is buried between his downy ass cheeks. I burrow into his hole. He opens easily. He is a hot mixture of not loose, but not tight. I lick and spit. My cock is raging. I stand up and fuck him for the first time today. He moans. He babbles a little, caught up in the overload of feelings. I fuck him slowly. Deliberately. Making him take my full length with every stroke. “Fuck me hard!” I speed up. Faster and faster. I pull out. He instantly cranes around, letting me know he wants his ass juices on his tongue. I move to his head and feed him. He moans. I fuck him again. Harder, from the moment I enter him. He cleans me once more. I move to the bed and sit. I grab the exercise mat I use for the rimseat and spread it between my feet. He knows to kneel. And his mouth is all over my cock and balls. He licks up his juices on my balls and our combined fluids on my cock head. I tell him to try to get his tongue between my balls and my cock ring. He tries. I moan. He loves this. “So hot…” He spends a lot of time there, occasionally dipping a little lower on my perineum. Does he want to rim me? I can’t quite tell. We move to the sling. I check the timing on the porn I turned on as he undressed. 35 minutes. We agreed to the meet, knowing it would be slightly rushed as he had some other commitment in the evening. I kneel between his stirruped ankles and eat his hole once more. His asslips are now slightly puffy. And delicious. I tongue fuck him. Over and over. Only stopping to stand up and slip my cock into him. His eyes are on the overhead mirror. He sees my cock slide in and out. His cock half-erects inside his jock, twisting the blue fabric. I free his cock. I bend and lick up his pre-cum. I go to my knees and shove it into his ass. My cock fucks him again, using his own natural lube. When I pause the fuck, I bring my wet cock to his mouth. He cleans me off—swallowing our combined juices. We take a quick water break. I jump in the sling, telling him it’s easy access to get his tongue once more between my cockring and tight ball sack. I also want to see if he wants to tongue anything else. He sticks to my balls—and that is just fine. I swear his tongue is making them work harder; my precum is gushing. I pull out the rimseat. We start with him sitting on my face. Delicious. He knows he can bounce on my cock anytime he wants—as long as he comes back up to my tongue for my pleasure. He waits a long time, reveling in how deep my tongue is in him. “I should have sat on your face at the party, not just your dick!” he groans. I lap at his puffy asslips, before going deep inside him repeatedly. He moves. He fucks himself on my cock. First facing me. Then, a longer time, riding me and facing the television. He dutifully pulls off my cock with his ass making a hot, wet sucking sound. He settles back on my face, his ass dripping his natural lube onto my tongue. Neither of us want to go anywhere—we are very happy right where we are… * S&P finally stands up. I ask him to lean on the fuck bench. He does as I get up. I kneel behind him and eat his hole. He moans as I stand up thinking I’m about to fuck him. But I piss his ass crack instead. I don’t know how he’ll react, but he loves it. “Shove some in me.” I do, just a little as I my flow recedes. I fuck him with the piss in his hole. “Now let me eat it out.” We go back to the rimseat. I can taste the piss on his crack, but there is not enough in his ass to even drip into my mouth. But it is still a hot moment as I lick out his butt. I know I need to get him on the road home. But I want it to be on the road home with my load deep inside him. We go back to the sling. I am so ready to paint his ass with my cum. He wants it, too. He is talking in really hot, dirty terms about my load and how he’ll keep it in him all the way home. I am so damn close. I fuck him harder. “I want to feel your cum leak out of me as I drive…” That does it. I fire off all the pent-up loads since I got home. A week’s worth of cum coats his insides. His eyes never leave my contorted face as I fire off volley after volley. I marinate inside him for a long time. I want him to clean my cock, but not until I can stand it. I slowly pull out. I push the trickle of cum back into him. I take my cock to his mouth. He cleans me thoroughly—his cock finally fully erecting as he does it… * My first meet of Salt & Pepper is detailed in: Group Sex: Two Tongues Share a Wet Ass The original is here: From My Side of the Sling: Salt & Pepper Offers his Ass in the Playroom July 18, 2024

Adeels thick black stubble sent scraping up and my smooth ass crack and against my swollen cummy hole sent shock waves through my body as did his tounge deep in side lapping up Dean's cum. Two fingers from each of his manly hands pried my sphincter apart. "Their's more in there, push it out." I pushed out my rosebud but no cum. "Fuuuck" Adeel sucked on my rosebud then shoved 3 fingers inside knuckle deep. "I'm gonna get those loads out." With his cummy fingers in my mouth I pushed out the remaining cum from my rosebud onto his toungue which he shared with me as we passionately kissed. We made our way to the bedroom and spent ages exploring each others bodies , kissing, chatting, laughing. We had the whole weekend so wide had time to experiment. We took videos and pics of us having sex and sent them to Dean. Half way through the weekend after giving him a full body massage I slewad apart his hairy ass cheeks and buried my face in his hairier asscrack again. He spread his legs further apart and raised his ass and held his ass apart leaving my hands free to tend to his balls. He really verbal, I wasn't as my mouth and toungue were busy. "That feels so good, I want your cock, fuck me" as my thumb was also working his hole. He had never been fucked so I took my time, the journey to fuck him was so hot. I was teasing him and he wanted it so bad. After an hour he took it like a champ. We fell asleep for short while with me spooning him. When we woke up he lubed his hole and my cock and nudged his hole onto my cock but it was too painful for him. We hadn't done any enhancements yet as he wanted to us to enjoy each other sober but he wanted my cock so bad he changed his mind. We blew some clouds and I relaxed his hole with some k and lube. I gave him his first slam and a second load. His T dick really turned him on, as an adult he had never sent it so small and pathetically limp. Itt wasn't that small, still at least 4 inches long and reasonably thick. I was loving this unexpected turn of events. I turned this masculine Arab man into a degraded and humiliated cumdump faggot pig

So you are curious about being exposed or perhaps you've seen some...things surfing the web & now you have some questions. What is an online exposure fetish? What the hell is an "Exposed Faggot"? Well lets refer to a few definitions from UrbanDictionary.com . No worries, I can attest to their authenticity because I'm the one who wrote & submitted them. (Wow guys. These have been on UD.com for years and I only just realized the typos I made. What a flop! My bad.) The hardcore truth about an "Exposure" fetish is that it is largely a combination of Exhibitionism, Humiliation, & in the more advanced cases tend to mix in elements of Doxing. Like everything else in the human experience it exists on a spectrum. From just a picture of a naked dude showing face & boner up through an image showing full Sissification with embedded text displaying extremely personal details. This can also range from blurry, out of focus pics taken in a dark room where you can barely see the guy on up through fags who have multiple surveillance cameras operating throughout their home where you can watch them 24/7/365. If you are looking for more examples run a search (obviously with Safe Search off) for "Exposed Faggots". Check out the links & make sure to check out the Images as well. If you would like to see a specific individual please feel free to copy & paste this into the search engine of your choice & you can see mine. Faggot Justin Keith Anglin Exposed I personally prefer the results I get from Yandex.com* as Google is going to shit at the moment. I have also been using this site* [ [think before following links] https://udm14.com/ ] which allows you to run a search through Google without the AI bullshit. Hopefully this post has given you a bit of insight into this burgeoning fetish, well as far as the gay version of it is concerned. I'm gonna do at least a small series of posts here going more in depth into this topic so look out for those. Thanks for reading this all the way to the end. I hope you have a great day/night & I'll see you in the next one! -Justin Keith *- Sorry my dude. I inserted links at these spots so you could just click on the words but for some reason once I published they didn't work. I must have done something wrong. My bad!

Hello beautiful, Alright, so the biggest news of today was me going out and buying the piano, even after having to stay back overtime because one of the machines at work broke down. That’s dedication, buddy! The whole trip lasted three hours. I went into the shop and told the girl at the counter that I was looking for a digital piano and didn’t know anything about it, and she basically went through a number of pianos including her recommendations. She mentioned that I should choose it based on the feel of the keys (which I thought all felt the same at first). When she left me to my own devices, I tried every single one of them and settled for this lesser-known brand called Kawai. It’s not a Casio or a Yamaha, but I don’t really mind because it felt and sounded really good to me, so I went with my gut feeling. This one also comes with a stand and pedals too, and I had to buy a chair separately, so I got the complete package, buddy! I have to say though, the packaging was intense and now I have a lot of rubbish to dispose of. I’ve been playing the piano for a bit and I noticed that my wrist and my hands, especially the left non-dominant one, got tired very quickly. I think this is just something that I’ll get used to. Also, remember when we first started learning how to touch type? It was a very slow process because we were trying to remember where each of the keys were? This is exactly the same process for learning the piano as well, where we have to get used to the finger placement. And the songs so far, at least, require me to remember where each finger is on the keys. I also have to know where each of the notes are on the treble or bass staff so I can play the notes. I think I’ll approach it systematically, by saying out the letters first and then trying to remember where my fingers are. I used to enjoy playing video games, and now I feel very addicted to learning the piano as my own sort of game. Both are rewarding in their own way, but I find myself much more excited to get home and start playing the piano as opposed to playing the Switch 2 when it was released. I am also struggling to balance everything in my life at the moment, buddy. It seems like a struggle right now to do both piano and singing practice on the same day. I’m leaning much more on practicing the piano after work, but I do find myself singing randomly at work more often now, so I guess that counts as practice, right? Actually, it’s a bit more conscious than that. When I’m singing at work, I’m listening very carefully to how each of my notes sounds, especially when there’s only a difference of one note between the words. That’s the part where I need to practice a lot more. You are going to have the time of your life soon, buddy. Chat soon xx

TURNS ME ON, HAS ME HAS ND HIM A PIPE ASS UP AND I TAKE HIS RAW COCK AND CUMWHILE HE BLOWS CLOUDS AND CUMS IN MY HOLE AND I TASTE HIS CUM ASS TO MOUTH ROUTINE IS HIS THING AND I STILL ENJOY THE FUCK

Hello beautiful, Just a quick message today, as there wasn’t too much that happened. At work, I was practicing my pitch training. I’m getting quite used to it now and can do eight notes while hitting each one fairly consistently. Sometimes, while aiming for the C note, I’ll hit a C sharp instead, but I’m getting better at correcting myself. It’s just using sounds like “Na” and “La” at the moment, since replacing them with words makes me hit a different note. But I’m reminded of what my teacher said about being patient and kind to myself. I also remind myself that I’ve only had one lesson with her so far—and I think this is already a pretty good improvement! I’m trying to set aside about two hours a day for dedicated practice. Sometimes it’s frustrating, but I do believe that consistent effort over time will pay off. I’m also listening to this book called Sweet Bean Paste by Tetsuya Akikawa, a story about—well—making sweet bean paste. It’s set in Japan and follows a man and an elderly woman making the paste for his pancake shop. I’m about 20% through and apparently there’s more to the story, but so far, it’s written quite beautifully. I’m quite picky with my book selection these days. Usually, I’ll listen to a book for about an hour before deciding whether to continue with it. Even if a book has a good review or is highly recommended by others, I’ve found that if it doesn’t resonate with me, I’m not afraid to drop it. To fill the silence, I just revisit old books. They’re very comforting to me. I also made a phone call to Agia today for the first time, and we talked for an hour. I reckon we could’ve talked a little longer, but he had to end it because he needed to sleep, which was fair enough. He’s got a very calming voice, and he’s patient too. I find that we’re able to talk freely about life. He did hint at a difficult past year or so, which we didn’t go into detail about. I’ll let him share when the time feels right for him. He also mentioned having trouble sleeping and trying a lot of different things to help—like avoiding his phone before bed, eating well, exercising, and practicing mindfulness like journaling. I’m fortunate not to suffer from troubled sleep. In fact, these days, if I do have trouble falling asleep, it’s usually because my mind is active—thinking about home renovations or exciting plans for the future. And plus, our current job isn’t very stressful, is it? We have to remind ourselves daily how grateful we are for the comfortable life we’re living right now and to enjoy it while it lasts. Like everything in life, these good times won’t last forever. But I have faith that we’ll be able to walk through the fog with grace whenever it falls on us. Have a good night, buddy. Chat soon. xx

Hello beautiful, Today at work, I was listening to this book called The Happiest Man on Earth by Eddie Jaku. I didn’t really know what it was about going into it, so imagine my surprise when I realised it was an autobiography about the Holocaust. Now, I’ve read a lot of books over the years about this tragic event, but the way the writer retold his story really struck me. I think he wrote it in a way that wasn’t showing off his vocabulary—just raw, honest words—and I really liked that. It really landed with me. Both his parents died in the event, and he was arrested several times, beaten up, had a number of life-altering injuries, and still managed to live to the age of 100, becoming a parent and a grandparent. It was an amazing account of his life. There’s a paragraph toward the end that I really liked, and it goes something like this: “But I ask myself, what will happen when we are all gone? What will happen when all of us survivors have passed away? Will our story fade out of history? Or will we be remembered?” And it’s sad to think about that—because you and I, for so long, have always thought about death and the legacy we might leave behind someday. What will people remember us by when we’re gone? What impact did we leave on this earth in our short time here? Hearing his struggles while I listened at work, I looked around at all the other workers—how some of them complain that the work is hard, or that their hands hurt, or that they’re not earning enough money—and all those problems seem like peanuts compared to the real struggles people face around the world. I mean, there are people out there who are fearful of not knowing if they’ll live to see another day, god dammit. So I’m always grateful for the sacrifice our parents made to get me and my sister here to Australia—to live the comfortable life we have now. The best I can do is to show kindness to the people around me, and help whenever I can. I also realised that I’m starting to enjoy winter now. Don’t get me wrong, buddy—autumn is still our favourite season—but I like winter, not for the cold, but for what it represents. It’s usually seen as a slow season, but I’m starting to use it as the time to get ready for spring and summer by building the foundation early. It’s the season of home improvements and starting new projects, so that when spring and summer come around, everything is in full swing. I’m planting the seeds now, so that when the time comes, the flowers will bloom—instead of planting them late and harvesting too late. Then, when summer comes, I want to try and save as much money as possible so I can prepare again in the next winter. I think that’s a smart strategy. And it’s kind of an advantage too, because most people just try to survive the winter. They have all their fun and joy in the summer, but then they have nothing planned for the winter. We’re reversing that—and I think it’ll work in our favour. Keep moving through life with that signature Philip style. Chat soon. xx

Near Home—July, 2024 Braydon, the cubby cum pig I often meet at the bookstore, sent me a text. He wanted to fuck—either at the bookstore or my playroom. We both love incorporating other men into our play so we chose the bookstore. I asked if he’d been there since it had re-opened, with both screens in one room. He had—but thought we needed to christen it with our type of play. I agreed. We met there on a Friday afternoon… I get there first. The room seems empty. No, I’m wrong; there is action in the back corner near the gay screen. A very attractive young Black man is being blown by an older, naked white guy. The guy in a ball cap, who I last saw text a bottom to find him here, is standing, feeding his cock into the younger man’s mouth. It’s a hot scene. I sit opposite them and undo my fly. The men across from me shift. Ball Cap now sucks the young man and the naked older guy stands up and puts his semi-hard dick in the young man’s mouth. Then he sees me for the first time. He comes over and goes to his knees. He takes me deep into his throat, wiggling his naked ass in the direction of the other two men. He finally pulls off me. I think he was expecting an instant load. He chatters about my thick cock and how he’d love it up his ass. I tell him that’s possible, but I am waiting for a fuck bud who’s due any minute. He goes back to sucking me, but as soon as another man comes in, he makes a beeline for the newbie and is soon sucking him to completion. As the naked guy leaves for the new dick, the other two men move to me. Jamal, (though I didn’t learn his name until I left) is mid 30’s. His hair is medium length and the curls move as he sucks cock. He is short and thin and has a hot, tight body. He is sitting next to me now. He leans over and begins to suck my cock. I turn slightly to give him a better angle. Ball Cap fists Jamal’s thick cock and strokes it. I am loving his talented mouth on my precum-oozing dick. I am so wrapped up in the sex, I don’t notice Braydon arrive until he is standing in front of me. He grins, goes to his knees and begins sucking Ball Cap. Jamal pulls off my dick and goes for my balls. He spits on them and licks it all up. Braydon comes up for air. Jamal does, too. He seems to recognize Braydon. Braydon crawls over and sucks Jamal. Ball Cap and I stand up on either side of Braydon, stroking. Never stopping his sucking, Braydon reaches back and pulls his shorts down, revealing his hairy jock strapped ass. I kneel and rim him a little, though the angle is awkward. Ball Cap is totally turned on by the scene. “Fuck him,” I say, coming up for air. Ball Cap replaces me, kneeling behind Brayden. He sinks his dick into the furry hole. He gasps as he sinks to the hilt. He fucks him hard. In moments, he’s groaning as his load shoots into Braydon. Braydon spins around to clean Ball Cap as he stands up. He goes back to sucking Jamal as I kneel behind him. I push a drop of stray cum back into him and fuck. I love the look on Jamal’s face as my dick sinks in. “I’m fucking that cum deeper,” I tell him. He groans. “You want a turn up his butt?” He nods. I fuck for a few more minutes, than move to let him fuck Braydon. I move so Braydon can clean my cock as Jamal pushes into him. “Ooooh….” croons Jamal. He loves the feel of another man’s cum for lube. I glance to my left. Ball Cap is still here. His cock has not deflated. He is jerking it. Jamal pulls out. He brings me his dick to clean. It’s the first time I have had his cock in my mouth and it is coated in another man’s cum. It’s thick, with a slight bend down near the head. And uncut. His foreskin is filled with ass jizz and cum. I lick him clean. He fucks Braydon again. When he pulls out, I want it in my mouth again, but tell Braydon to clean him up as I fuck him. Braydon loves being filled at both ends with big dicks. We switch off in Braydon’s ass, fucking him hard and fast. I clean Jamal up after the next round. Braydon is panting and blissed out. I fuck him once more. Then Jamal. “I can shoot again!” Ball Cap stands up. Jamal pulls out. Ball Cap pushes in and fires off another round, after only a few strokes. Jamal and I take turns pushing the new load deeper into Braydon with our cocks. Jamal pants. Hard. “Did you shoot?” “A little—taste it.” He pulls out and I rim Braydon’s gaping ass. Braydon groans. I keep going until my knees give out. “I want you to eat my hole,” I tell him. I drop my pants and sit in the chair, tilting my pelvis to give him a good angle. Jamal sits to my side. He idly strokes my dick (and his own) as Braydon begins a deep tonguing of my tight ass. “That looks hot,” he tells me. “You like to be rimmed?” He shrugs. “Sure.” “I should do your ass when he’s done with me.” Jamal stops jerking me. He stands up. Shit, have I offended him? He strips naked. The new chairs here are big and comfortable—and have arms. Jamal steps up on the chair next to me, then across my chest, resting his foot on the arms of the chair. Then the other. He straddles me—and sits on my face. Holy fuck! I am in overload. I have a tongue in my ass and this hot black bubble butt is grinding down on my tongue. I’m not sure that I have ever rimmed while being rimmed before. Certainly not here. It is an electric moment for us all. And Jamal is not going anywhere. He loves my tongue and says so. He also vocally encourages Braydon to eat out ‘this big-dicked daddy.’ Time stops and I just keep slobbering all over his tight hole. Braydon moves before we do. He stands up, then bends to suck my dick as I keep rimming. Jamal finally needs to stretch, too. He gets off, his dick drooling. Braydon doesn’t let it go to waste. “I need to breed your ass.” Braydon nods. I haul a chair out to the middle of the room so he can kneel on it and I won’t pound his head into the cinder block wall. Jamal watches, seated where I was. Braydon climbs up and I kneel. I eat his butt out. The two and a half loads are dribbling down his hairy crack. I catch them and push them back in with my tongue. I am so close. I stand up and fuck. Hard. Fast. I glance over at Jamal. He has found another white daddy to suck, but he occasionally comes up for air to watch us. Braydon groans out a “Breed me.” That does it. With just a few more thrusts, I am giving him everything pent up in my balls… The original is here: From My Side of the Sling: Braydon Fires Up the Room August 1, 2024

Good evening beautiful, I think I’m getting old. I mean, I had the whole Friday night to myself and really wanted to play some video games, but you know what the problem with games these days is? It’s the hours of commitment you have to put in. I don’t think I can fit in a 70-hour game anymore unless I dedicate a couple of weeks off just to play it. So I ended up watching a movie on my own—on the iPad, of course. The movie I chose for tonight was called Flow, about a cat who makes friends with wild animals as the forest gets flooded. Honestly, I almost fell asleep because it wasn’t very engaging, even though it got a great rating on Rotten Tomatoes. To be fair, it was a beautiful movie, but we both know we’re more of the action-oriented, slow-motion, explosion-fueled movie types, right? Yeah, that hasn’t changed at all. These days, I’m learning to show up for myself and becoming more comfortable just being by myself. I definitely would love to hang out with my friends more, but I find that they’re quite busy. Most of them are actually partnered up, which makes it harder for them to find time for me—especially on weekends. I imagine they’d rather spend time with their partners. I know I would. We both did that when we were in a relationship. It’s understandable. So now I enjoy time on my own, and it feels pretty normal. I’m getting used to it. I’ve been having thoughts lately, especially after going to my vocal coach session. I feel like if she can teach people and provide value to their lives—and earn money doing it—then I can too. I have skills. I can help people through fitness. The lessons I’m paying for are expensive at $150 an hour, but I’m enjoying them. I have the resources to improve myself, and there are people out there—I’m sure—who could benefit from what I offer. And there’s this guy I showed you before, the one I have a crush on—Brock Ashby, a personal trainer in Sydney. If he, an ordinary guy, can help people and make a living from it, then so can we. We’re all human. He’s just more focused and motivated than I probably am right now, but with a bit of focus and dedication, I’m sure I can get there too. I think it’s a good thing I’ve got a couple of things going on right now, between work and singing, because it keeps my time filled. I think I need to put massage on the backseat for now and dedicate more time to my fitness project—to actually get that up and running. There’s this voice in the back of my head that keeps saying, as long as I keep moving, the good things will come my way—including finding my partner. I have a feeling he’ll show up somewhere along this path, which is another reason I want to pursue it. So just to clarify: gaming and massage are on the backseat, and the fitness course comes first for now. Oh, and before I forget—remember the study room with that giant white wall we’ve been unsure what to do with? I think I’ve found the best solution. I’m going to Ikea tomorrow to get some nice shelves and pot plants and deck it out. The room’s going to look like a lowkey greenhouse by the time I’m done. I think it’s going to look pretty good. Chat soon. xx

Good evening beautiful bastard, You know, it’s getting quite late for me, and I was contemplating whether I should send you a message, but I told myself I wanted this to be a daily habit—so here I am. Lucky you. Firstly, I’ve got some good news. I started talking to Kevin again. Our YouTube Premium account expired after the one-year subscription, and he was kind enough to update it for us. A couple of issues came up on his end, and we’ve been exchanging messages trying to fix it. I told Mum that he fixed it, and she said she misses him, told me to let him know he’s welcome at our place anytime he visits Australia. (He moved to Vietnam for good.) Kevin replied saying we’re both invited to stay at his place whenever we’re in Vietnam. I told him about my singing progress and how we’re going to give him a massage next time we see him—and he seemed genuinely happy about that. Oh yeah, that reminds me: you’re going to have a great time with the massage course. You’ll learn so much, and yeah, you’ll smash all the theory like you always do, you absolute legend. Now, to be honest, I’m still not perfect—even a year on from where you are now. I’m still struggling to handle a few things. You’re going to meet this wonderful man in the future named Phil. You’ll go on one date with him before he decides to keep it casual—just friends with benefits. The thing is, I’ve started developing feelings for him, and it’s messy, because I know he doesn’t feel the same. So I’m pulling back, just enough, to protect my heart. And you know what I realised today? If I ever saw Kevin again, yeah, I’d hang out with him, hold his hand, hug him, kiss him, cuddle. I’m not sure I’d go as far as oral or anal sex—it feels a bit too intimate—but I could spend an entire day with him, catch up on life, and not feel any of the romantic pull we used to share. I’d stop just before that line. And I think that’s what Phil might be doing with me. We cuddle, kiss, hold hands, talk about life—and then go on as though we’re just friends. It’s confusing as hell, but I think I’m starting to get it now. He’s going to be a very special person in our life, always. The kind of person time disappears with. The kind of person you feel completely safe with. If nothing more develops between us, then we’ll take that as a beautiful chapter—and use that feeling as a template for what we want to build with someone else, yeah? Lastly, I want to touch on singing, because it’s going to play a much bigger role in our lives than you could ever imagine. You’re going to start singing with Mum more often. It’s endearing. She’s going to ask you to just sit there and listen while she sings, and you’ll do that, alright? Then you’ll pick up the mic and start duetting with her. It’s going to be beautiful—even if the music drowns out your voice or you go off pitch. No one’s going to care. It’s going to be priceless. Today, I sat in our study room and sang for three hours straight. I’m getting into improv singing now—can you believe it? In English too! Yes! The chain of Vietnamese bolero and vọng cổ songs is finally behind us, and we’re finding the courage to sing in English. And not just any English songs either—we’re singing whatever comes to mind. And honestly? It sounds kind of beautiful, if I do say so myself. Right now, I have this thought. I feel like I just want to sing freely. I’m not sure if mastering one song at a time is the path forward. When you sing a song, you’re tied to its pitch, its melody. There’s not much creative freedom in that. Not like improv singing. I’ll talk to the vocal coach about it and keep you updated. Enjoy life, buddy. You’re doing great. Everything’s going to be alright. I promise. Chat soon. xx

Good morning, dipshit. I don’t know why I just called you that. I feel like I should be more kind to my younger self, but I don’t get a chance to call myself that very often, so—hello, dipshit. I wonder what you’d call me if you could respond to these messages. Hehe. I want to talk about confidence for a second. If you think you’re confident now, wait until a year from now. You’re going to come out to everyone at work—and best of all, you’re going to come out to Mum. I’m not going to go through all the details of how it happens. It feels like a stack of dominos that all fall at once. It’s beautiful. And very anticlimactic. No drama, no fireworks. The day just keeps going like it always does. Mum loves us just for being us—maybe even more now. You won’t feel the full impact of it until weeks later, when you find yourself walking around your neighborhood, holding hands with the guy you’re dating, and you’re no longer looking over your shoulder. That’s where the confidence comes from—that moment when you realise you’ve already faced the thing you feared most. You’ve stood in your truth. And there’s nothing left to lose anymore. Everyone at work? They’ll love you. You’ll realise that Michelin is a second home—a harbour, really. That’s what I call it now. A place you go to recharge. Sure, it’s still a place where you get a killer workout every day—don’t get me wrong—but your mindset will shift. Oh, and the people? Still wildly incompetent. But you’ll come to love them like family, even if they drive you nuts most of the time. Right now, I’m taking singing lessons. That’s right. You’re actually doing it. You’re going to keep pursuing that little itch you’ve always had. You’ll start singing at work—first quietly, then way too loud. And you know what? No one’s going to care. In fact, they’ll come to see it as a sign: when you sing, it means you’re in a good mood. When you don’t sing, it means you’re stressed. That’s how well people will know you, Philip. You sing because it’s how you express your feelings. And right now, you’re really into musicals. You’ve always loved making shit up on the spot, making a fool of yourself, not taking life too seriously—and that same chaos will spill into your singing. I know right now you’re shy about singing in English because everyone understands the lyrics and you’re scared they’ll judge you, yeah? But remember what I said about confidence? That wall—you’ll break through it faster than you think. You’re going to fall in love with the sound of your own voice. Even if it’s not technically perfect, it’ll be emotionally honest. And isn’t that what great storytelling is all about? Oh—and here’s another thing. I’m bulking again. And this time, I think I’m finally doing it right. I’m 71kg now and I don’t have a belly. It’s been six months and I’ve gained 10kg, slow and steady. I’m aiming to gain another 15kg by the end of this year. I’m going to the gym six times a week, but only for 30 minutes each time. That’s it. I recently learned that’s just 2% of your entire day. Can you imagine that? Two percent—and it changes everything. We look great. We feel great too. Chat soon xx *** *** *** Good evening, beautiful. I guess I can send multiple messages a day now. Hehe. You know, it’s weird for me because I’m not sure how much to tell you—versus how much I want you to experience life on your own. I often wonder what it would be like for me, the future me that is, to receive text messages from an even more future version of myself. To be honest, I think I’d be terrified. Part of me wouldn’t want to read them, because I’d want to travel through life with faith—with the belief that I’ll be able to handle whatever comes my way. But it’s tempting, isn’t it? To want to know what life has in store. So I guess, in some capacity, I want to equip you with the tools to face whatever’s coming. But we know each other very well. And you know I can’t help myself. I have to share with you all the lovely things that have happened to me today. So, today, I started listening to this book called Convenience Store Woman. It’s about a Japanese woman who works at a convenience store. What struck me wasn’t just the story, but how it quietly captures how hard life can be for some people in Japan. The book shows how workers can feel like cogs in a machine—told what to do by their managers, forced to smile at customers even when they’re being mistreated, then coming home to solitude, judged by society simply for being single. And yet, there’s a quiet resilience in the main character. She navigates a difficult life in her own way. The book’s short—just over three hours—and I’m already halfway through. It made me feel lucky, really lucky. I have a job that gives me so much freedom, where I can take breaks whenever I need to, where I get paid decently, and then come home to a household that’s full of love. Not everyone has that. Not everyone is as lucky as we are. Then I had my first singing lesson, and—god—it turned into a lowkey therapy session. I learned that singing isn’t just technique. It’s part technique, part feeling, and part belief. Would you look at that? I realised a big part of my singing hang-up is being a perfectionist. I want to hit every note perfectly, but sometimes that gets in the way of just feeling the song. There’s a lot to work on, but I’m excited. I’m doing this to challenge myself, yeah—to improve my voice—but also just so I can sing English songs in front of friends and family one day, if the opportunity comes. I think that would be lovely. I don’t know if I’ll ever perform in front of judges. Maybe I will—just for fun, or as a confidence boost. But mostly, I just want to keep learning new things. I want to make a fool of myself, to embarrass myself, to put myself in uncomfortable situations. Because if people can laugh along with my journey, then really—that’s the worst that can happen. And if that’s the worst, then it can’t get any worse than that, right? Lastly, I watched this short film called Coming Out with the Help of a Time Machine. It’s about an Indian man who comes out to his parents. They’re furious. They nearly disown him. It’s such a common struggle for so many gay men. His parents say they gave him everything, and this was how he repaid them. But beneath all that was fear—fear that the world would judge them. The story wasn’t really about him. It was about their shame. And all he wanted was their love. Thankfully, it has a happy ending. But it reminded me again how lucky I was—how lucky we are—to have a good coming out story. To have a very cool mum. Not everyone gets that. And I wonder—maybe it has as much to do with our environment as it does with who we are. Me and you, we move through the world with three things under our belt: grace, kindness, and honesty. We touch people in ways that change them. And maybe—just maybe—that’s why people meet us differently. Maybe that’s why coming out landed softly. Maybe that’s why love has returned to us in ways we couldn’t have planned. Don’t forget those three things, yeah? Especially grace. It will come back to you tenfold. I believe that. I really, truly do. Chat soon xx

To the memories we will all cherish one day. I met Phil for the third time today, two weeks after our last catch-up. Again, it was at his place. We kiss and cuddle when I step out of the car, and again once the door closes in his apartment. We lay there on the sofa, catching up on what’s been happening in our lives, even though we’ve been texting each other daily. It feels nice to have him in my arms. After a while, we get up, and he suggests we smoke some weed. We planned this ahead of time—it’s my first time—so we do. I don’t feel anything at first. Then it hits me. We go to the bedroom. Clothes off. Skin to skin. He sits on my cock and rides it like a pro, but there are voices in my head that get in the way of my enjoyment. I have a confession to make. I don’t usually top. I’m mainly a bottom, but I have topped before in past relationships. I remember, back then, I had a lot of trouble getting hard—performance anxiety—but I overcame it because I loved him. I wanted to make love to him. I’ve topped other guys before while cruising too, rarely, and I managed to get hard by thinking they’re nothing more than just a body. A body to use. A body to get off. But Phil—he’s different. I’ve set a ceiling on my emotions to protect my heart, so I can’t fuck him like he’s the love of my life. At the same time, he’s more than just a body I can use and throw away. So my head is stuck. In a space I can’t define. The effect of the weed makes it worse. And sure enough, I get soft mid-fuck. We stop. Cuddle. Kiss. And in the back of my mind, I’m disappointed with myself. I really wanted to finish inside him. To make him mine. And it didn’t happen. I end up making a series of bad decisions after that. Just to see how far I can push my body. Turns out—not very far. I mix white wine with pear cider. I smoke more. My body shuts down and Phil has to carry me to bed. We fall asleep in each other’s arms until the morning, where we just lay there and talk about life. I ask him how he feels if I start dating other people. He’s cool with it. After all, he was the one who set the boundaries—friends with benefits—and it’s not fair if that holds me back from being with someone else. He asks me how I’d feel if he starts dating someone new. I tell him I’d be happy for him. As long as he calls me if that guy doesn’t treat him right, and I’ll personally beat that guy up for him. Sweet, Phil says. I confess that I like him. He asks me what I like about him. I tell him: I like that you’re beautiful. Beautiful on the outside, yes. But more so on the inside. I love the way you think. Your philosophy on life. The way you move through the world. And any guy who dates you next—whether it’s me or anyone else—he needs to know this side of you. The beautiful side. And he needs to appreciate it. He has to. Then Phil gets shy. Smiles in that way only a few people get to see. That vulnerable side. And I know I did good. I know I said something that stuck with him. So there it is. I lay all my cards on the table. I’ve confessed how I feel. I let him know that once he’s done healing, if the universe aligns and we both happen to be single, I’m happy to give us another shot. I feel like I’ve set up all the dominoes in a beautiful way. Now it’s up to him if he wants to knock them down and start an adventure with me. Or maybe not. In the meantime, we live our own lives. Our lives don’t pause for each other. They keep moving. We won’t text each other daily anymore. We don’t have to. The foundation we’ve built is strong. Solid enough that it doesn’t need constant reinforcement. We won’t see each other as often. That’s okay too. I hold him tight in my arms. I give him a hundred kisses. Because I don’t know how many more times we’ll get to do this. If we both find someone else, then the cuddles, the kisses, the hand-holding, his head on my chest—someday it’ll fade. Someday it will all just be a distant memory. And it’s sad to think like that. But that is life, isn’t it? I drive home. I think this is the closure we both needed. A breather from each other. I think I’ll see him again in a couple of weeks, just to see where life takes us. I think we’ll be different people by then. A lot can happen in a few weeks. We’ll have new stories. New experiences. New outlooks on life. Let’s see where this wild road takes us, yeah?

My alpha top at our last chem session got me to make a life changing promise to never use condoms again and to take any cock and load. He also knows I am addicted to risk and that I have to ride his cock after all the raw holes he fucks. We were chatting about the local gay spa and I said I average 2 loads for the £20 entry so not bad but I always want more. He's now suggested we cut out the middle man and I pay guys direct. We used his pad, advertise £10 for each DNA load that is pumped into hole. He will check I get loaded and will organise guys if he can film and use it online. Must admit, the thought has me rock hard, paying for guys to fuck me and him selling the films online.

Near Home—June, 2024 My trip home from Tennessee was the exact opposite of my trip down: it was smooth sailing all the way. I started to drive early in the day and stopped as the sun really started to bake my front seat. I had no delays, not even much highway construction. I got home by noon on Tuesday. I thought I wouldn’t be ready for more sex for a little while. I had taken Sunday off—even as Fornication Weekend wound up. And both my driving days. But by Wednesday I was ready. I went to the newly remodeled theatre in my oldest haunt, curious as to how men were settling into the new space… There are a number of men here. I sit against the long wall, where I can turn to either the straight video or switch to the gay one on the opposite wall. There are half a dozen men here. And one, sitting opposite to me is getting a blow job. The guy sucking didn’t even pause with the opening of the door. (My kind of sucker!) Two men are watching and stroking themselves. I pull mine out. Rock hard. I add just a hint of lube so my hand glides over my erection. I realize that sucking dick, after the marathon fuckings of the long weekend, is exactly what I want. I am just about to get up and make my move, when… “Look who’s here.” I am so taken with the idea of a cock in my mouth I didn’t bother to look who’d just walked in. It’s the man who finally took two inches of me in his ass and swore he had it all the way in. He is handsome, maybe in his 40’s, his ebony skin shining from the reflected light of the two screens. He sits down next to me and instantly his hand is around my hard cock. He jerks me for a bit, not pleased with the sheen of lube on me. But he gets on his knees and sucks my cock. His way. His fist around the shaft leaving a couple of inches for him to ‘suck.’ Which for him means lick. Occasionally he ovals up and sinks down on the few inches not in his hand. Over and over. It feels good. At first. It quickly grows monotonous. As he begins, I stroke his shoulder or his closely cropped hair. Soon, I watch the other blowjob. The guy shoots soon enough with a grunt and a grimace. The sucker swallows and moves to the next guy who’s stroking. The cock I was aiming for… I suggest we take a break. But he doesn’t stop. He is between my legs as the second guy across from me shoots down the sucker’s throat. The marathon sucker instantly goes for number three. And gets the last man off in a millisecond. The guy stands, looks at me and licks his lips. And leaves. We are alone. Now, my sucker takes a break. Did he know what I wanted to do? We chat. The door opens. A very large Black man comes in. I know him, too. He is always an eager sucker—and guys know he gives good head. He sits right next to me. Instantly, my suck-just-the-head guy is back on his knees. The large guy shrugs and strips naked. He is soon sucking a new arrival, a young white man half his age. And taking the load. The door opens. It is a hot white daddy. Likely early 50’s. His wedding ring glints in the ambient light. He sits a few chairs away from me, far away from the naked man licking the young man’s cock clean. Surprisingly, the white daddy takes out his cock and strokes to what is happening to me. He watches intently as my sucker ovals up and takes just my big helmet head into his mouth. The straight movie changes. It is one of those really forcefully fucks by James Deen and a very sub-ish woman. White Daddy is all about that. He turns his attentions avidly to Mr. Deen putting the young woman through her fist anal sex scene. The guy on my dick takes a second break. He can’t watch the on-screen rutting to our left. He looks at the cute Yugoslavian college kids frolicking in a Bavarian swimming pool, instead. His hand stays firmly wrapped around my cock—likely afraid his larger rival will make a move for it. The James Deen scene ends with a massive cum shot on the young woman’s face. White Daddy turns his attention back to the room. I idly wonder if White Daddy is horny enough to let the bigger cocksucker do him… My head sucker is back on his knees. I need more of me in his mouth. I stand up and fuck the his face. He is totally unprepared for this. I am good, I just give him a couple of more inches to deal with, knowing he can’t possible take all of me. His eyes widen, but to his credit, he takes it. White Daddy stands up and moves to us. He stands next to us. I know I can’t move my sucker’s head to his cock. Instead, I cup the big, hairy balls of White Daddy with my free hand—the other one is holding my sucker in line for my thrusting. He groans at the human touch. My sucker has had enough. He pulls away and gets up, heading to the bathroom. “If you hold my balls like that, I’ll cum.” Instead of pulling away, I go to my knees. And swallow him. “I’m gonna…” and he pulls abruptly out of my mouth. “I swallow.” Magic words. The guy pushes his dripping dick deep into my throat. I suck for a moment—before he begins firing off his pent-up load. His gut wrenching orgasm goes on for a good minute. I am licking him clean as my head sucker returns from the bathroom. He knows I love to suck—but he can’t stand to see me do it. He turns on his heel and leaves. White Daddy holds onto my shoulder. When his cock runs dry, and I have cleaned up two stray drops oozing out of his large piss slit, he gives my shoulder a squeeze and does himself up. The naked man looks at my cock, but somehow, after all that shallow sucking, I don’t want anything more, even better and deeper. Making dinner seems the better option—and I button up and go home… The original is here: From My Side of the Sling: Back to My Home Away From Home July 14, 2024

He was 19. He was innocent. He was a virgin. He told me he wasn’t into risky play. He is a cute white twink. Raised in a conservative home where men like me were to be feared, never trusted, never touched, never worshipped. But deep down, he wanted it. You could see it in the way he talked. The way he needed a breeding top to take control. The hesitation that didn’t quite hide the hunger. We didn’t talk about condoms. He assumed one would appear. But when the moment came, I didn’t offer—and he didn’t ask. He lay back, legs open, body trembling with the kind of tension that comes from years of repression. I stroked myself slowly—thick, bare, ready—and pressed the head of my cock against his virgin hole. He stiffened. I looked him dead in the eyes and asked, “Are you sure you want it like this?” He nodded. That was it. Not a word about safe. Not a plea for protection. Just a silent, shaky nod—his whole body screaming for something his mind still didn’t know how to accept. So I pushed in. Bare. Hard. Deep. He gasped as my cock broke through—tight and untouched, and suddenly filled. He didn’t stop me. Didn’t push me away. Didn’t even blink when I pushed my raw dark cock deep in him, buried to the base. I pounded and bred him, like he was a whore. Because in that moment, he was. I moved slowly at first, watching his face shift—fear melting into shock, then surrender. His fingers pushing into the sheets, his thighs quivered, and his hole… God, his hole opened. Soft. Wet. Eager to be used. Like it had waited its whole life to serve a dark dick raw. And when I came inside him—deep, raw, no warning—he moaned like he’d just been unlocked. Later, I asked him if he knew what I meant when I said “are you sure you want it like this” and he thought I meant “are you sure about sex?” That he’d expected a condom. I told him the truth: His body gave me a better answer than words ever could. That was his first time. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t safe. It was rough and raw. And now, he doesn’t hesitate. He opens. He serves. He drips with cum. He knows. He was raised to say no. But his body has learned to say yes—especially to MEN of colour.

When I was very young, like kindergarten age, I accidentally saw a snippet of one of my mom's boyfriend's porn vhs tape and I was immediately hooked. From then on, I was into any porn I saw and any porn I could get my little hands on, like really REALLY into it. Since most porn was run-of-the-mill porn then that's what I was into for the time being. I loved and still love big tits, big dicks, creampies, gangbangs, etc. I started down the extreme and deviant path when I was twelve years of age and was introduced to family love and eating cum by my uncle, who was 10 years older than me. Then, I was into homo action (fucking said uncle) at fifteen y.o. I lost my hetero cherry and loved hetero sex and fisting with a girlfriend at 16. I explored a few things with her, such as pee games and piss drinking, and also with various gfs soon thereafter. As time passed I fell deeper and deeper into the well of depravity that is my sexuality and I've loved it. Since then, I've developed a taste for the extreme and depraved. Most recently, I've been into urethra stretching and urethra sex. If you're curious, there are numerous videos covering my latest interest by searching "urethra sex" or "peehole fucking" on Google. Over the past 25 years, I've developed some pretty extreme tastes. See my photo albums for content of me doing what I love.

When the party ended it was still dark. More accurately, I should say it was dark again. The host ordered Gibron to slam another load of tina in my vein and they shoved me out the front door, poured my ass into the back seat of a vehicle, and we sped off. They drove around for a while before the door opened and I was pushed out into the gutter of some street in the city. I was totally high, totally disoriented, and didn't care who or where I was. I was exhausted, feeling sick to my stomach from all the drugs, and just wanted to sleep. I passed out right where they left me. I woke up sometime later when some homeless guy was checking me to see if I was dead. He gave me some water and when I asked him what day it was, I realized that 48 hours had passed since I had ventured out to find the dance club. I still had my wallet and ID, and plenty of cash to pay for a cab. The homeless guy helped me find a cab and I gave him my excess cash as a thank you for helping me out. As I lay in the back of the cab on the way to my hotel, I realized that my life had been changed forever by that experience. For one thing, I no longer feel fear in the presence of danger. Instead, adrenaline makes my dick hard and makes me wanna fuck. I also discovered my purpose in life. I exist to bring pleasure to dominant men and their cocks, to submissively take any and all cum loads as often as possible. I get off being force-chemmed and raped, gangbanged, and made to service one or more guy's darkest needs. That's why I travel to big cities like Berlin, Amsterdam, LA, New York, Houston, Miami and such, hang out in the darkest seediest areas, clubs, parks, and bars I can find, looking for straight or gay guys who get off on power and control who will fuck me up and use me as their sex-whore cum-dump for a few nights. Do you want to get force-chemmed and whored out? That's the way you do it. Put yourself out there, submit yourself to the dark side, and see where it takes you. Just make sure you are ready for the consequences, because once you start, you're committed to the end. There is no safe word. There is no turning back. You're at THEIR mercy, until THEY decide THEY have had enough. You are THEIR fuck-toy for THEIR pleasure and nothing more. You don’t matter and you may not make it out alive. But for a danger junkie, that's the whole idea. It’s the danger, the unknown, and the total loss of control that beckons us and draws us in. Embrace your dark side and hang on for the ride, faggot.

I woke up horny and snuck outta bed. turned grindr on and started looking. Immediately a boy answered with a hot pic of him pushing out his ass. we traded pics and he told me he wanted my cock bad. I told him he'd have to host, but he said he lived with his parents. I convinced him to sneak me in and he agreed after seeing a few more cock pics. he opened the door wearing a tight tshirt and trunk underwear. He was 5'2 slim stud like latin boy. from the minute he closed the door to his lil boy bed room we couldn't stop kissing. his lips were amazing and his body even more so. we rolled around kissing and stripping each others clothes off. I began pulling out all the stops sucking up and down his body, finding out all the spots that made his toes curl and eyes roll back. I kissed down his legs and even sucked on his toes which he had to muffle his moans with a pillow cuz it was driving him over the edge Then i turned him over and told him to push his ass out. He jumped for it spread his ass for me. Such a willing baby boy. I began eating him out deep and crazy. his ass was perfectly clean and his hole was so tite and pink it was perfect. He was losing it with my tongue in his hole, but i wanted more. I slapped my cock on his crack, and he looked over this shoulder at me saying he didn't think he could take it. that maybe we should just jack off. I lined up my cock head on his hole and began massaging a spot on his hips i'd figured out earlier which made his head roll back. i dropped some spit on his crack and began lubing up my cock. and pushed the head on his hole. He was right he was super tite, he was clenching scared of my cock. "I'm not gonna have an ass left" he finally said. I wrapped my arms around him from behind and began kissing him slow and passionately, he was so beautiful. "Focus on my hands" I told him and I ran them all over the map I made of his body earlier. his head rolled back we kissed and I licked him up and down his neck and lower ear my hands moving from his hips to dick to balls to nips up his arms and down his thighs, and his ass relaxed only a bit, which let the tip of my head push in his hole. He went rigid. Then felt the pressure and relaxed again. A 1/4 of an inch of my head pushed up and he moaned again and then went back to focus on my hands. "Relax baby boy" I coaxed him and he moaned more and relaxed his hole and my whole head popped in and his whole body reacted. I'd never seen a reaction like this before. He fell forward and just rotated his hips on the head of my cock. "Oh my god" He moaned and he began fucking himself only on the head of my cock. Then just when i was gonna try pushing deeper he jumped off turned around and began sucking it deep and hard giving me an amazingly deepthroat. I moaned and went to grab his head to fuck his face. and he turned around pushed his ass on my cock again fucking himself on the head. This went on for a little while, and finally he stopped and began making out with me for a while saying this had been his fantasy for sometime and he was loving my big cock. "love if all the way babe" I said "I can't take that" was his automatic reply, "no way" I convinced him to let me rim him somemore and walked him through pushing out his ass like he was taking cock. Within seconds he was holding his sexy cheeks apart and pushing his hole begging me to go deeper and deeper in his hole with my tongue while i lubed up my dick. I slapped my dick again on his hole, and he kept his ass spread as i pushed the head in and he moaned trying to get into positiong to control the fuck but i pulled him to me grabbed his balls in my hand and pulled a little. rubbing them. Instantly his attempt at clenching stopped he relaxed completely and my dick slid in a good 3 inches. he freaked out and tried to move foward but i held him and touched him and he relaxed letting me pump him. deeper and deeper and deeper till my balls were slapping his ass his mouth was wide open and the only word were yes yes yes and omg. My dick was the hardest i'd felt in a while and i wasn't sure i was gonna cum but the boy didn't seem to mind. soon he was in doggy style impaling himself on my cock . We flipped different positions and he moaned with each turn of my cock in him. Neither of us were concerned about cumming and it felt like we would never get close we just kept fucking and fucking and fucking Till finally when i had his legs in the air and was fucking him deep he grabbed my hands and said he felt like he was gonna cum. I picked up speed and his eyes rolled. I knew I was hitting the spot everytime I pounded his face of eurphoria and chills went over him and he looked at me holding my hands feelign the sensation of about to cum in his dick without even touching himself. I kept speeding up and fucking harder now without mercy trying to slam the cum out of him but after about two minutes of the sensation he couldn't take it anymore, he grabbed his dick, and after two pumps he shot a load it sprayed all over himself and he couldn't stop cumming it seemed his ass gripped me and tugged my cock but only barely got me close I pulled out and before i could do anymore the boy jumped his mouth on my dick and sucked. I ended up jacking off into his mouth and he swallowed. We made out for abotu another hour and had sex one more time, and shit i thought i was in love. But after i left home, he stopped returning my messages. Probably the most amazing fuck I'd had in my life, I shit hope it was for him too. He had told me before i left, that it had been his first.