verbalBTTM

So you're the boyish Walter White, huh? If you're where I think you are, I can see the beach house not being much of a draw, but a pool will always do that. I hate wearing clothes in the water; it seems pointless to me. Yeah, Chris Hansen isn't someone I'd want to accidentally meet on a hook-up, followed by a press conference featuring my picture and the sheriff's little story time. That just wouldn't be my ideal weekend plans. The mentoring aspect is a weird role to be in, especially if your ideal relationship is one of mutual life experiences. My past adventures were mostly positive because of the people I met and those I chose to refuse association with. I find that you really are the company you keep.

Most boys, especially twinks who hook up with much older men, do it for a few reasons, and it's usually not for the leathery signs of aging on a man. 1. Free drugs and dick 2. They're sugar babies 3. Have a daddy fetish 4. Prefer staying at a beach house for the weekend However, speaking for myself, when I first came out at the age of 22, I sought out the oldest men I could find to help me answer a burning question I had been wrestling with. I'd offer to buy them a drink and ask plainly, "How did you survive the AIDS epidemic?" They all responded with, "I was in a committed relationship," or "I was a strict top." They knew I wasn't hitting on them but rather seeking their guidance. They were all too happy to offer their insights to me, as most people my age ignored them in a mean-girl way. Once I had my question answered, I began hooking up here and there. Being a twink, I naturally sought out other twinks, but would dabble with some older men in their 30s and 40s. They were a little easier to deal with than my peers. After a time, when I was watching my friends dying off one by one, I decided to seek out something different and found recon.com, where I looked for an older Dom for protection from HIV and the wisdom a Dom man can offer (not that I really understood all of that at the time). He was in his mid-60s and taught me a lot. Not just in sex, but mentored me through his generous patience and understanding. He wasn't the stereotypical dirty old man that many twinks think of; instead, he was kind, patient, and understanding, like a perfect father is with his son. Only he had a sling, an Alpha sub boy, and a chest full of goodies to experiment with. He knew I wasn't a true sub, but gave me the space to experiment with that in a way that I could allow myself to be, given my limited mental capacities at the time. He saw me struggling and wouldn't allow me to retreat; instead, we would talk about my fears and help me process them. Just shy of a silver bullet, I was able to get back on the horse for a while. Now back in combat operational capacity, he saw my Dom side with the various boys we shared who craved the raw energy the BDSM lifestyle has to offer. We were a great Dom duo, which his Alpha sub was only too happy to lap up. The sex alone would have been worth it, but what I actually received by taking that leap was far more than I could have even fathomed. I learned about myself and how to recognize needs in someone's eyes. I became a quicker and more accurate read of people, to almost mystical psychic powers of understanding. In conclusion, there’s a phrase that I’m fond of: "May fortune favor the bold." For those who are willing to toss the dice, they’ve already looked past any physical imperfections an older man may have. Instead, their eyes are targeted on a grander prize that only older men can offer: love, appreciation, knowledge, wisdom, maturity, the safety and security wrapped around them like a warm blanket on a cold night. These things are never found in that perfect twink at the club, and they know it. Instead, they seek someone like you, sir. I hope that answers your question.

Ha ha ha, I said that as a tip of the hat to the moderators, however in truthfulness the sex with enhancements section alone is enough for me to do that. I've been there a little bit and the romanticization of meth is weird for me to read. I get the fun aspect of it as far as pigging out, they just always neglect to mention the come-down part.

Over the years, I've read plenty of content on this site that had me clutching my pearls. They do a good job while asking very little in terms of restrictions. The guidelines are fair and mostly for legal reasons. Considering the content on this site, I'm surprised at how much we get away with. For that alone, I am grateful for this site and the work the moderators do to keep everything going strong.

Being rimmed as a bottom allows me the time to properly prepare myself mentally to offer my submission to my top. As a top, communicating with each touch and probe of my tongue that I am now claiming your ass as my property, and that I’m about to rock your world. This can be an intensely intimate and dominating experience. This level of communication and intent deepens the connection and serve to heighten the pleasure for both parties involved

You've really captured how age provides us with wisdom from life experiences. At one point, we didn't appreciate the reasoning behind the limitations in age of consent laws. I suspect I'm not alone in saying that as we mature, we no longer view a younger person as our equal peer, but more as a recent recruit in the adventures of life. As a senior officer, it suddenly becomes our charge to guide and protect them, rather than capitalizing on the vulnerabilities of the situation.

Please don't hold back, I certainly would enjoy other angles or positions. Just saying

When we first began, none of us truly understood sex beyond what we gleaned from porn videos, and we were far from skilled. Our development with age-appropriate peers allowed for a gradual and steady growth, promising more with each experience if we persevered. These desires fueled my imagination and encouraged my explorations. However, significant age differences can create a profound imbalance. When one party, particularly someone under 18, hasn't had the opportunity to develop themselves, and the other has 30+ years of experience, it's challenging to see that dynamic as anything other than exploitation of the inexperienced. Once a young person, as in our case, reaches the age of maturity (18), they are better equipped to understand the consequences of their decisions. While we all develop at different rates, by 18, most have experienced enough of life to form a general understanding and are expected to take responsibility for their choices. Before this age, individuals are rightly viewed as children, as they lack the life experience to fully grasp the repercussions of their actions.

I don't know about supplements making cum taste better, but I can testify that when I take Zinc Ortate, my loads are bigger, giving more of that wonderful tingly sensation in my cock when I erupt.

The taste I've come to know, generally speaking, if I was part of a panel tasked with describing a new product the Unilever Corporation was thinking of launching, would be something like this: I'd take a swallow from the cup, swish it around a bit, and then swallow. I'd remark that the texture has a consistency of phlegm, with some thinner, runnier parts. It's salty mixed with savory, leaving a slight metallic aftertaste in my throat, making me want to drink more just for the creamy part to tickle a newly created itch in my throat. It's exciting in indescribable ways, leaving my thirst unquenched, compelling me to seek more of this strange taste sensation. Personal story here: Something my straight friends and I do is get each other to eat things that kinda make you gay. Knowing damn well that I'm a homo, they offered me this rare delicacy when we were in Sapporo. Open to new experiences and not suspecting anything, I gave it a go. My friend with a super Japanese name ordered lunch for us with a special item just for me. We had a toast of sake, and then he offered me this little cup, saying, "This is something special for you, my last name." I put it in my mouth, trying to experience it in its fullness, like when you sample a new wine. I saw them starting to crack apart in laughter. I gave a look of "what the fuck." And they said, "What's the matter, my last name, you've never had a load in your mouth before?" They saw me starting to gag a little, which didn't help contain their laughter. They said, "Don't you fucking dare spit that shit out, last name. That's $50.00." I swallowed it, and they remarked, while completely red in their faces with uncontrollable laughter, "You just drank Whale Cum, you multi-species faggot." This was their revenge for tricking them both into eating cow balls on a ski trip eight years prior. In conclusion, I can say without reservation that human cum tastes better.

I like the cumdump trainer

Good show, sir. Good show, and thank you. Absolutely, we need to rise above the purposeful division and come together as one. That's what made us a community before, and it was one of our finer hours. If we come together, like you and I did, with love in our hearts and a dash of humility, there is no obstacle that can stand in our way Brother

@PozBearWIin response to your down votes The conversation that I was a part of was about a first real poz scare, where I shared previous feelings, but you had to make it about politics. Then I tried to be uplifting and put things back on track, and we’re rather flippant about things when I wouldn’t entertain politics. Here’s a little story about why I was scared and why I protected myself, since you didn’t get it the first time. A picture that I keep, somewhat wrinkled and aged over the years, with parts of the image distorted by my tears, is a photo of 21 of us plus the photographer standing at Riis Beach in Queens, NY. We’re all young, naked, and full of life, without a care in the world except what we’re doing that night. I am number 18 in that photo if you count from left to right, with me at the back since I was one of the taller guys. All of them, except me, are deceased from HIV complications. ALL OF THEM. They weren’t just fair-weather friends; they were my everything. Sometimes a therapist, a banker, a chef, a comedian—just someone to share a moment of your life. They were more than all of that; they were my brothers. All of us were discarded as trash by our families just for being gay. Some of us had harder beginnings than others. I’ll speak now of three of them. Brian #2 was from Canton, Ohio. He was beaten up for being the school fag. Unfortunately, things weren’t much better for him at home, as his father made sure that lesson was reinforced every time he drank, especially with his belt. At age 16, Brian started prostituting himself to get enough scratch together for a bus ticket to NYC. Where, on a fateful night, he ran into my friend Mark and i. Covenant House wasn’t working out for him (a shelter for youth), so Mark and I, clearly understanding his needs, put him up and shared custody of him, if you will. He wasn’t cute by any measure, but loyal like a dog with a big heart who just wanted to be loved. Before long, we helped him get a job at a coffee house that was understanding of his situation, and with the help of a pro-bono lawyer, his emancipation papers so he could legally be on his own. Eventually, he obtained his GED. As a present, we got him a fake ID so he could walk into Kurfew an 18+ party. He was so happy that day; he finally was able to go out on his own, but always wanted to be with us. Life was looking up for him until one day all of his strength was just gone, and he looked like shit. We brought him to a doc-in-a-box who did a simple HIV test. Of course, it was positive, and he wasn’t Mr. Vitamin either, so he deteriorated pretty quickly. We spread his ashes on that very same beach a few days before his 21st birthday. Mark #8, who I mentioned before, was from Chicago. His parents abandoned him at three, so his lesbian aunt took him in, doing the best she could. Life wasn’t easy for Mark; there was tons of violence in his neck of the woods. So, the day after graduating high school, he moved to NYC, which is where I met him with a terrible fake ID at my bar. I cut it up in his face, telling him I’m doing you a favor, and then asked what he wanted to drink and offered him a job as a barback. Our friendship grew fast, and he took to the gang quickly, becoming a main pillar of support. In early June 2000, on a Tuesday, we went to have lunch in midtown at a straight titty bar that had free baked ziti with admission. Titties and lunch all for $10—fantastic deal, especially considering "Showgirls" was our movie. By that weekend, he was in the hospital, and we spread his ashes in Central Park the following Sunday. Nicolas #15 was a fun-spirited guy from Ronkonkoma, Long Island. His father was a disabled war vet with a terrible drinking problem, and he never mentioned anything about his mother. He ran for the big city the day he turned 18. I met him at a party called Kurfew; tall, slender, handsome—a real catch. He loved to drink and somehow would always be able to make you laugh. He just had a knack for that, even when he got sick; he’d still make a joke about everything. A little after his 23rd birthday, his father came to collect his things. So when I mentioned in a previous post that I was scared, I meant it. The 18 other people who were part of that photo weren’t the only ones who passed on because of HIV, but that photo encapsulates a moment before, when we were still innocent. Before anyone was diagnosed, before I helped them pass with some dignity. Before I cleaned their apartments out of porn and toys. Before any of my scares, before I was afraid. The years went on, and so did the number of people I lost to HIV, including the man I loved. Some hurt more than others; each one is a piece of me gone, a part of my life lost. After a while, it all became a blur, and I stopped going to funerals. I became voluntarily celibate. Alone and afraid, with almost everyone I know dead by the time I was 27. A little after my 31st birthday, I buried the man I loved, which I have never recovered from and never will. So when I say I was afraid, I have a ton of reasons why. Each one with a name, a face, and a story, and I knew them all. They were my brothers. So in conclusion, keep your self-righteous political opinions to the political section, ok. As far as me being honest and sharing, FUCK YOU. I hope you never went through any of what I had to endure. Thanks for the downvote; it really shows who you are when a man shares of himself. You just had to inject your fucking politics, didn’t you. Hope you learn from this drubbing and become the better man that I know of you through this site. After all, isn’t that the point of life?

That is really amazing, you got fucked like a whore who stole from him, to only later be sweetened up later. Sounds like a hot time that can't be beat.

In my writings known and not yet published; when I write about being fucked into submission to a drooling mess on the floor unable to move, comes from a past experience. He gave that experience to me and taught me how to take and give completely with men. Boys would be wise to humble themselves, and seak out experienced hands. It will only better them, and that's why Daddy is a term of endearment.