AlB

I’m inferring that by sucking black guys that automatically means they wouldn’t be in your circle of friends? 🧐

You didn’t suck the worker guy?

If I’m the cock-sucker then it’s the cock-owner’s choice. But my preference is to feel the shaft and head thicken and harden and pulse as he pumps, taste the consistency and flavor of him, and swallow at my leisure and for my pleasure.

Thank you for your service. Army vet here; just saying! 😈🐷

Where’s this book store? 😈🐷

I had to travel to South Florida last week ahead of my husband’s arrival; he was finishing a work product when I excepted a consulting job out of the blue. The original plan was he would stay behind, finish his current gig, and join me Friday night or Saturday morning at the latest. CrowdStrike intervened and his planned flight to meet me was not only canceled he couldn’t get out until Sunday afternoon. Finding myself alone in South Beach I was a total slut the entire time until he finally arrived late last night. By the time he got in I had given 14 raw loads and I had taken six over those few days. In my defense, I didn’t know most of the guys names; both the top and the bottoms. Most. My ass was full of two strangers’ loads when he got in last night. My argument is that it made it easier for him to shove his huge cock in me; I was just being considerate right? I enjoyed the taste of him and the other guys on his dick when he was done unloading and I was cleaning him off. At least one of the other guy’s cum was unusually strong-tasting My last load? Both giving and taking were with him this morning as I left for my gig and he left to the pool. I spent the day with my ass full of his cum; I wonder if he’s been slutting around with any of the other hotel guests all day while I was working.

Enquiring minds want to know!

I was in the army. I’d had many men suck my dick but had never reciprocated. One night I was drunk on leave; I decided to suck a buddy’s dick but had no intention of taking his load in my mouth. Unfortunately he was very quick-triggered if he had a mouth around his dick; it was a complete surprise. I was further surprised that I not only didn’t mind it but also it didn’t fuck with my head that a guy had cum in me. It was a long time after the army that I used guys to get off again; even longer until I fucked one, even longer than that until I sucked another one, and finally I liked it and even tried taking it up my butt. And somewhere in there I really got into it; and here I am!

He has a beautiful thick long cock, huge balls, and shoots like a super soaker but he’s uncut. You’d know if you had his cock down your throat or up your butt.

And we all know paying attention is a rare trait in fellow homos and men in general. 🤣

Curious @BootmanLA if/how this resolved. I read a post this (frustrating for many reasons having nothing to do with this site) morning where someone (possibly you) analogized this to high school. Aside from once again being grateful that I did not experience such in high school I’m a new member here, learning the ropes, barely familiar with the controls in place, and have once or twice used the down-vote to express my opinion or displeasure. Now I wonder if that is more than a simple reaction and should be considered an RMD (Reaction of Mass Disrespect).

For most of my life before my husband the laughter was only if there was a malfunction of some sort; not any joyous laughter that I remember. The first time my husband (to be) fucked me we both laughed during and startled each other; it was joy for both of us. After the fourth time in a couple of hours we had nothing more in the tank(s) figuratively (and literally) we were laying back still panting on sweat-soaked sheets and at the same time both of us laughed. Then we were both startled. Then we broke into huge laughter. Finally when we got ourselves to where we could talk a little he looked at me and said, “FUCK we did that GOOD!” I asked him, “‘that’ meaning only one of the four?” And we were laughing hysterically again and it was explosions out of both of us of huge joy that had been only expressed in our fucks and sucks and kisses and touches but not enough to release and share it all. MANY times in the years since we have collapsed after sex; and then at some point we both laugh with that same joy. Rarely with a play-mate; usually à deux. And our persist use of “that GOOD” and “those GOOD” are our private jokes.

Which part “might” you have made-up @SpectreAgent; the part about being a stripper or the part about your audience’s reaction? 🧐

When I’m getting fucked I want a MAN fucking me; verbal and strong. That may not necessarily be dominant beyond in control of himself (or fighting to maintain control of himself); but it means him verbalizing his intent and his actions and following through!

I didn’t do it by choice; it happened by accident. I was well-indoctrinated as gay by then, several years after my divorce, and very single. I got a call out of the blue: “Sherbourne? It’s [his name changed] Carter. I’m in town and could use a place to stay.” It was a surprise, it was presumptuous, and it made my balls burn with desire. “Carter” was the hottest man I’d ever seen. He was as a captain when I was a lieutenant; and he was my immediate superior. He was tall, built, handsome, masculine as hell, hung, and tough as nails; he was tougher than the Marlboro man! Many gallons of my cum were shot at velocity fueled by fantasies of him years later; I might have blown a wad thinking of him that very morning in the shower. You see we had for some time had the odd circumstance of showering at the same time. At the time it didn’t arouse me; after my “awakening” those memories of his hands all over his soapy bod, his dick and balls hanging as heavily as mine, his deep unaffected voice as we talked like two guys which is what we were. The kids were in bed already. “I have a spare room that’s a total mess but the bed’s good.” He thanked me and said, “I’ll pick-up some beer” and asked me what my favorite was. Cut to the better part of two six-packs downed and neither of us was feeling any pain. He mentioned a guy we served with who got booted for being “a fairy.” And fueled by Anheuser Busch I told him he was talking to one. He didn’t miss a beat and told me he’d “used fags plenty” and proceeded to take his time adjusting himself. I’d seen the porn version of this scene; I knew what to do. I blew him while he sat back and never touched me or even moved other than his lips with derogatory dialogue about me loving his big fat rod and wanting his swimmers. It was true. Then … he passed out. Cold. No load; nothing just out. If he wondered in the morning how he’d gotten to the sofa-bed in the spare room (fireman carry) or why his pants were open and down and his dick was out he never said a word. The next night he declined a second beer; “Gotta watch myself or shit happens.” He left the third day and all I had was the taste and texture of his big dick.