ErosWired

We certainly won’t, if you omit the details. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.

In the context, there’s something disturbing about the phrase “happy baby position”...

Lube is important. I find that if I ever have an issue that could get in the way of continued fucking, it’s almost always to do with irritation of the skin around the anus. I stay ahead of most problems by making sure I stay well lubed for heavy use, and make sure I avoid lubes that I know cause a burning feeling. As others have said, relaxation is key, and poppers used sensibly and tactically can make a big difference.

I’m always interested to hear such accounts because it simply never occurs to me to ogle other people. I don’t often look at other people in general, let alone their bulges. On the rare occasion that I might observe some winsome attribute of another person, my auto-responder instantly kicks in with: “Don’t be absurd. He would never even glance at you. Quit wasting time.” And the notion of touching someone...? Inconceivable. Which is really ironic, considering that I don’t give a second thought to touching a stranger’s body - or wrapping my lips around his cock - once he enters my room and takes off his clothes. I guess for me there’s just no point in entertaining wishful thinking in place of the reality that’s actually accessible to me. I know that there are guys out there who look each other over, lock eyeballs, some inexplicable wordless communication takes place, and within three minutes they’re fucking in an elevator. I don’t have that ability or anything remotely like it. So I guess my stranger-touching is going to have to stay in the baths or a hotel room... where they touch me first, and usually starting with the most intimate spot in reach.

Look before you leap. What does he mean by “a few Tops”? If he means three or four, that’s a lot different than if he means seven or eight. Or twelve. If you’ve never been gangbanged before, be aware that even though it’s pretty much every bottom’s fantasy, most bottoms couldn’t actually take the anal trauma of that kind of use. Only you can estimate how your ass would feel if you were rough-fucked five times, with five more expected of you. For a lot of bottoms, that would be a solid Nope. For me, as a dedicated cumdump with hundreds of cocks up my ass, that’s a night at the baths. You say you are not into rough fucking sessions. In a group scene like this, things tend to run rough as Tops encourage and goad each other on. The bottom often finds he has no control in these situations, and just has to take it, sometimes while being held down. If the thought of this excites you - beware. Think with the big head, not the little head. The fantasy could become a nightmare if it doesn’t fit your reality. Oh, and even if you do decide to go through with it, don’t be disappointed if you show up and it’s just the guy and maybe one or two others, or just him. Big gangbangs are notoriously difficult to arrange, and it’s uncommon that anyone actually pulls one off.

I’m not sure I understand what’s wrong with that. To me, it sounds like a move toward simplification of the taxonomy. There aren’t actually that many of us absolutely-never-for-fucks-sake-Top-total-bottoms, so as far as I’m concerned having the bottoms who will even occasionally Top switch to considering themselves versatile - which in fact, they are - would be all to the good. The only difference between Vers Top, versatile, and vers bottom is a question of degree, and why should a man who is not on one of the dedicated ends have to limit himself? It would be such a pleasure to be able to say I’m a bottom and know that no man would ever expect me to Top him, ever.

A useful illustrated (with video) guide to every conceivable arrangement for homosexual buggery is to be found at the Gay Sex Positions Guide (www.gaysexpositions.guide). They range from the practical to the absurd to the kind that sort of make you tilt your head sideways and think, How the hell did they...?

*sigh* I think anyone who decides that he or she has a calling to work in a sexual health clinic should be required to study the online Urban Dictionary.

A little vein starts to pulse at the side of my head every time I get “Are you clean?” Does he mean: 1. Have I showered? 2. Have I cleaned out my colon? 3. Am I free of STDs? 4. Am I free of HIV? The whole question sort of chaps my ass, because the implication is that this guy is asking whether I’m too “dirty” for him to shove his penis into my anus and leave his bodily fluid inside me. I’m not sure the right person is asking the question...

It’s not so much that racism is what springs to mind when a black man bottoms - it’s that it’s what springs to mind when a white man is seen to be Topping a black bottom. As is and was always the case, what constitutes racism is not what the oppressed individual does or thinks, but rather what is done to or thought about him. I actually think your point about a presumption of black “deviant dominance” (I quote it only because I’m not sure I agree that the ‘deviant’ part is as prevalent as the ‘dominant part) and fetishism of black tops fits in very well with my argument - it’s perceived as “acceptable” - i.e., not racist - to fetishize a black man dominating a white man sexually because that somehow reverses the dominant/submissive power structure that led to black disenfranchisement in the first place. Naturally, from the point of view of a man of color, it’s just another way of being judged by the color of his skin, and no less offensive, but that, I think, is probably the rationale behind it. I struggle greatly with how to explain the phenomenon in my personal experience that a very significant majority of the most superior breedings I have ever recieved have been by black Tops. I am very much of a scientific turn of mind, and reject stereotypes. A black man is first a man, an individual with a mind, tastes, thoughts, experiences, hopes, loves and desires, and somewhere, way farther down the line of importance, his skin also has a higher proportion of melatonin. As I mentioned previously, my Autism leaves me “colorblind” to some degree in terms if race, so I can safely say I neither fetishize black Tops nor believe that the fact that a Top is black automatically means that he will have a big cock, have a large group of friends he can call for group sex at a moment’s notice, or likes his sex in any particular way. Yet there it is - over hundreds of fucks, my observation has been that the men of color have provided the most memorable sex, by a significant margin. Can any inference be drawn from this? Should we scrupulously avoid drawing any inference for fear of applying racial bias to the interpretation of the empirical data? Is there even a “safe” way to suggest that for whatever reason black men seem more at ease with their bodies, without automatically injecting race into it? I’m not sure there is.

When I was young I read lots of books. My parents let me read what I wanted, which was good, because I had zero interest in sports or any of the other things that usually make boys boys. (I wasn’t into the things that make girls girls, either, in case you’re wondering.) Star Wars had just premiered and in a few years I would discover Dungeons & Dragons and computers, but the books were always at the center. They were stories about heroes and heroines, protagonists who had to face uncertain situations or dangerous enemies, find advice from the wise, struggle with their own inner weaknesses, and find a way to emerge ethically victorious at the end. There were a lot of such stories, and if you read enough of them at a certain formative time in your life, they shape you. Principle among these for me were the works of Tolkien, with their epic depictions of the noble Men of Numenor and others great and good. I found later in life that I had no real-life idols I looked up to or wanted to emulate - mine were all in books. The real human ones - like my father - failed to meet the noble standard of my heroes, the standard I set for myself to reach. Therein lay the seed of the problem. I hadn’t hit puberty - I bloomed late, and being Autistic, I didn’t catch on to what was happening to me when it did happen. And why would I? You see, in all those books, all those stories, and especially in Tolkien - there is no sex. I grew up in a home where sex wasn’t discussed. My Dad’s birds-and-bees talk with me consisted of “mutter mutter mutter keep it in your pants” and I didn’t even understand what “it” he was referring to. So, like Queen Victoria, I determined that I was going to be Good. And I was. I strove to be perfect in everything I did - “Be perfect even as your Father in Heaven is perfect”. My father cussed like a sailor, yet not one off-color word passed my lips. I was a straight arrow, square as a cube, insufferably correct, and ethically anchored. I was also socially inept and sexually clueless, but I didn’t know that. All I knew was that most people didn’t like me even though I tried hard to be a good person, and the people who didn’t like me liked pop culture and had started going on about this “sex” thing. Fine. If they were going to reject me, I would reject them, and everything they liked. Fast-forward to college. Sex at last made itself understood to my brain, and it was incompatible with everything I ever read about, admired, aspired to, or wanted. It as carnal, animal, messy. It wasn’t Good. And there was this word associated with it, the word that, then, I considered the worst thing I could say: fuck. Still more confusing, I found that my curiosity about sex revolved around sex with other men. As a freshman, I went to my first AVS and bought my first gay video. It changed me. Fuck me! Fuck me! God yes, fuck me! Men actually did the thing my rebel body was shouting for! But not me. I resisted the rebellion with all of my reason and my willpower. I destroyed the porn tape, glad to be rid of the damn thing... then, before too very long, I bought another. After I purged the indecency from my body I destroyed that one in its turn. But eventually I would get another. I was still a coital virgin. In high school I had had a girlfriend who would work my cock with her hand until I came, but I didn’t understand what was happening and certainly didn’t have sex with her. Now I was on a campus where 95% of the students belonged to one of the fraternities or sororities, and sex was everywhere around me. I was a ΓΔΙ (Gamma Delta Iota) - a God Damned Independent - so I wasn’t marinated in sex and alcohol like the rest of the idiots. Yet I had a need in common with them, a drive at that time of life screaming to be met, and I ensured I had no opportunity. The struggle became a kind of inner warfare that split my mind in two - two different facets of me so incompatible and so consumed with mutual loathing that they persist to this day. It was only the year after I graduated that a very kind and dear friend ended at least a part of my conflict by seducing me and taking my virginity. I will always be grateful for her mercy, even though the act left me even more confused - was that what everyone got so worked up over? But that’s irrational... Fast-forward. Graduate school, job, no sex again until marriage (to a gal with a record of some 74 guys she had been with). Sex was expected, and sanctioned, and she had a potty mouth and I suddenly found my resolve slipping. During the moment, to my shock, I even used the F-word. The sex was good enough to produce two children - my son’s conception was one of the most unusual and memorable ejaculations I’ve ever had - but not good enough to keep her happy. After 11 years, it was over, and at age 37 I looked at myself and found a wreckage of all my early asperations and resolve. I had been dragged down into divorce like any regular person, prey to emotion and physical appetites that I had had to concede to in order to meet her needs. Now there was no her, just me, horny and prone to swear, and now actively thinking of finding out if I really was attracted to other men, and what that would be like. I went to Louisville to a gay bar even though I didn’t drink, got picked up by a guy and fucked the first night, and loved it. Loved it. Loved. It. Eros was god of love and sex in the ancient Greek world. Among other things, he was said to be the protector of homosexual love between men. Though originally a primordial god, later tradition makes him the offspring of Aphrodite, goddess of love, beauty, pleasure and procreation. He carried a bow with arrows that could cause mortals to feel passion beyond reason; the Romans called him Cupid. I am convinced that the son of a bitch found me early on and realized that here was a mortal who made a mockery of him and his power (erotic power, named after him). He made his plans right there and then that he was going to take me down about 300 notches by hitting me with arrows at just the right times. By the time he was done with me, he figured, this good, upright, uptight boy would be a sex-addicted slut happily wrapping his tongue around men’s phalluses and taking their seed in his hole so often he would surpass even that whore Messalina. Fast-forward to now. His arrows don’t miss, and one offends the gods at his peril. The person I was in the beginning would have been unable to contemplate what he - I - have actually become. Far from his ideals, I have now been trained, and my mind shaped, to accept that I am intended for the random sexual use of strangers, a willing and eager receptacle for their fluid, my body conditioned to accept their rutting, excited by the sound of squishing juice and slapping skin, grunts and groans, and the scent of copulation. He still lives in my mind, proud and undeterred, but pinned down by arrows, while his hated rival has his way with my body and takes full advantage of the corruption Eros wrought. Had it not been for sex and its nearly irresistible power over the mind, I might have reached some aspect of the refinement I aspired to as a human being. Because of sex, my mind is corrupted, my body has been enjoyed by hundreds of men in degrading ways and I will gladly allow the same from hundreds more, and men know and use me now for what I am... unrepentantly, and as of this post, a whore. Thanks a heap, Eros. You motherfucker.

I’ve read through all the posts so far on this thread about black/white racism in porn, and I’m astonished that nobody has mentioned the obvious, I mean, really obvious, reason there isn’t much porn depicting white Tops on black bottoms. Topping is an inherently dominant, and often aggressive, act. Bottoming is generally a passive, sometimes submissive act. Now, picture a white man dominating a black man, and what instantly springs to mind? Racism. In today’s social climate (thank God) it’s not acceptable - and apparently worse, not “cool” - to be a racist, bigoted douche. While many white people, still endowed with “privilege”, continue to have an awareness that somehow black is not the same as white, many also consciously suppress that idea in favor of the idea of equality, and thus become sensitized and uncomfortable with depictions of white-on-black racism. Why would a porn producer make content in this atmosphere that could be somehow construed in that context? Imagine sitting down to some porn like this with a black friend and that black friend saying, “That’s racist, man.” Mood-killer. Nobody wants to be accused of being racist, especially when they’re trying their best not to be. It’s partially for the same reason, I believe, that black bottoms have a hard time finding white Tops. If black bottoms can’t find black Tops, I have no explanation, and perhaps all the previous discussion of personal taste comes into play, but I still think there’s a conscious awareness of racial roles that comes into play. I am reminded of a black Top who had me twice several years ago near Fort Knox. He was military, built like a linebacker, and his cock was thick and the longest I’ve ever taken - a good 11” (and no, those are not ‘Internet inches’ because I had just recently taken a confirmed 10” that I could compare it to). There was no question of who had control of the encounter - he Dominated me from the moment I passed through his door. Each time he had me ride him and pulled m down onto his cock, then flipped me over onto my belly, penetrated me balls-deep with a single thrust, and bred me to his satisfaction. But the other thing I recall from those memorable encounters was that each time I came in, he had interracial porn playing on his TV - of a big black man brutally fucking a smaller white man. He had, it seems, a racial preference. Could that be called racism? Personally, I’m glad I’m Autistic, because the color of a man’s skin basically doesn’t even register in my head unless someone points it out. I don’t automatically consider it a significant feature.

Bear in mind that some dildoes are made of materials that are porous or potentially porous and therefore impossible to clean and sterilize sufficiently to be used safely by others. Also, depending on the age of the items in question, some breakdown of the original integrity of the materials may have occurred. I would inspect them very carefully, and look into what they’re made of, before foisting them off on someone else. If any of them don’t pass muster, you can always turn them into edgy modern art... or just chuck them in the bin.

Nonsense. That’s like saying their should suffice for they’re and there as well. In terms of discreet, if I say: A gentleman may use a word with two discreet meanings is a very different sentence than A gentleman may use a word with two discrete meanings. Part of our problem in “today’s simplified world” is that we seem more willing to dumb everything down for the idiots rather than educating them. Smart is sexy.

Driving 60 miles is basically a minimum for me, but for me that’s no big deal - you have to drive half an hour just to get to civilization from where I live. And that’s nothing at all compared to the first guy who ever traveled to hook up with me. He came to central Kentucky all the way - I kid you not - from the Yukon Territory in Canada. (He was a little bit nuts.)

Ah, the foot fetishists. I avoid them like plague. The few I’ve encountered seem to view the foot as genitalia and care less about the real thing. Extremely tiresome sessions. A lot of putting on and taking off of socks. And I am not ticklish in the slightest. When a man’s version of a dick pic is a shot of two shins ending at a pair of feet, that sets off my nope sensor.

His wristwatch? Dentures? Hearing aid? Toupée? Glass eyeball? Toenail clippings? Spectacles? Damn that’s freaky, but I’m not judging...

That’s dedication to kink, right there. That a man would be so true to his kink that he would offer up his last three hard-boiled eggs to get it... that’s inspiring. Of course, this guy’s particular kink strongly suggests a need for psychotherapy, but I’m not judging. On the other hand, maybe the eggs were laced with some kind of knockout drug, and the guy’s real kink was to pretend to use the first guy’s naked body for a runway for his little toy plane over and over again until the guy woke up, or until the foreign slave dealers arrived to take him away. The mind races.

This ^. As a rule I don’t “play” with toys solo because they impart an empty feeling - they actually seem to magnify for me the fact that there isn’t a real person in their place. Alone, I use them strictly as tools, to coax flesh into a desired form. When I’m slutting, I’ll leave my dildo out for Men to use on me if they wish, and some of them do, some brutally (which I always look forward to). Now the toy instantly gains warmth and meaning, because it is an extension of the Top and his intent. Four nights ago a Top DP’d me using my dildo and his cock, which really emphasized his intent to use it on me (he said I “took it like a champ” 🙂). Yet even if a Top uses my dildo on me and his cock is significantly smaller than my dildo, the moment he enters me with the real thing the difference is overwhelming. I would take that cock, no matter its size, over any dildo of any size or length, any day.

A positive Top with a detectable HIV viral load or an untreated STD steps up to a gloryhole. He finds a cunt waiting on the other side. At this point, nothing is going to happen that the Top does not personally, actively choose to do. He knows his condition and knows he has the capacity to transfer his condition to the guy on the other side of that hole simply by inserting his cock through it and into the ass that’s waiting. He positively knows this to be true. The guy on the other side knows only that such a thing is possible, if he’s been educated about the risks, and considered them - but he could be naïve and unaware. If no infectious Top that evening chooses to use that ass through that hole, the guy on the other side will go home unharmed. But not this time. The Top standing on this side is a stealther. He holds other human beings in contempt if they somehow don’t measure up to his standards, and so to him it’s absolutely okay to poz up their dirty worthless cunts - somebody’s going to do it, so it might as well be him. In fact, it’s better than okay, because this dumb, cumslut piece of human trash is sitting there with his bitch twat pressed up against the GH begging for it! So he pulls out his cock and fucks the guy on the other side he can’t even see, and ejaculates his infected fluids into the other man. He pulls out and walks away with a smirk - he just scored another one. Now - I defy any of you to defend this Top and the decision he made, or to explain some way in which the bottom was actually responsible for that Top’s decision. I’ll be waiting for someone to explain how the bottom’s behavior made him less a human being than the Top, or more deserving of having his body wracked with disease. I’ll be waiting for someone to provide a convincing argument that a bottom’s ability to take protective medications makes it acceptable for any Top to attempt to give him a disease. I’ll be waiting to hear how the Top was enacting some primal, instinctual ritual, or demonstrating his dominance, or really any nonsensical justifying shit I can laugh to scorn. Do I feel morally superior to anyone else? No. But some things are simply wrong by any ethical, logical standard, and this is one of them.

There are men posting in this very thread about how they’ve stealthed other guys. I would like to believe they’re not all sociopaths, but rather, haven’t thought it through, or don’t realize that most of their peers here consider it an especially dick move. I’d like to think that such guys might be willing to rethink their stand on stealthing - and their intent to stealth in future - based on our community discussion here. Maybe I’m being naïve. I do that sometimes (I even let guys I totally do not know push their penis into my asshole, if you can believe that). But I still believe that the only way we make any headway in getting rid of this kind of behavior and making bareback sex safer for everyone is by speaking out about what is acceptable and what isn’t. Quit fetishizing it as well, for fucksake. When some fucker talks about stealthing someone, don’t encourage it by saying something ridiculous like “That’s hot”. No, it isn’t, it’s sinister as fuck, and what’s the matter with him that he would do that to someone? (By the way, my sexual past is chock-full of experiences where sick bastards did all manner of sick sexual shit to me as a submissive both in and out of bondage, so it’s not Polyanna talking here.) Let’s just decide as a subculture that it’s not something that we accept, and make it known.

Good advice - except that what it means is that anyone negative who wants to stay that way should stay condomed up, never have spontaneous sex, and never go to any place where men have public sex because stealthing is an expected thing. But it shouldn’t be, and it doesn’t have to be. It persists because there are men - and your earlier post in this thread places you among them - that accept, legitimize, and justify stealthing as a practice, even if only under certain circumstances. Stealthing will continue its insidious presence among us until we as a community adopt a united stance that it is unacceptable and spurn those who commit it. Only then will it cease. Would you swim in a public pool if it were known that some individuals were known to jump in and then intentionally open up vials of E. coli into the water? Of course not - those persons would be expelled and banned from the pool (and likely arrested). You wouldn’t just say, “Well, sometimes these guys show up, so if you don’t want to get sick, just don’t come to the public pool.” The advice above, while sound, places all the burden of mitigating the problem of stealthing on the potential victims, and makes no effort to address the problem at its malicious root.

Last year a very hot young Top who was doing me the honor of fucking me for the second time with a nice thick 9” cock paused and then pulled out and informed me, “There. I just pissed in your ass.” I didn’t say anything, just excused myself immediately to the bathroom and expelled it into the toilet. I don’t do piss, inside or out, ever. Hard limit. If he had asked me, or even just told me what he planned to do, I would have had the opportunity to explain my limit. He did neither, so in effect he stole away my right to enforce my limits. He’s a nice guy, so I didn’t hold it against him, but if we ever fuck again, we’re going to have a come-to-Jesus meeting beforehand...

I made a serendipitous discovery a few months back after a couple of Tops had seriously rough-fucked me in succession and my cunt was burning so badly I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to continue service for that trip. I had no balms or creams or ointments, but I did have some tablets of ibuprofen. I took one, crushed it into very fine powder, mixed it with a little water-based lube, and applied the mixture to my cunt. Within about 15 minutes, the swelling and the burn were both gone, and I was able to keep taking cock that night with no trouble. I’m not saying to do this, or that it doesn’t have any negatives as a technique - I just don’t know. But I do know that it quite literally saved my ass that night.

I’ve had the exact opposite experience every single time I’ve tried the sling at Indy Cumunion - empty room except for two or three idiots I have to swat away because they just want to fiddle with my cock. What’s your secret?