ErosWired

I draw a distinction that some here don’t between kissing and exchanging fluids by mouth. I don’t consider them the same act because the intent is different. Someone trying to felch loads out of my ass and then feed them into my mouth via a kiss - snowballing, I guess - is a bridge too far for me. I’m not sure why; I get squicky about certain things orally. I don’t mind French kissing or a Top penetrating my mouth deeply with his tongue (the deeper the better if he’s that dominant) but if he’s slobbery it shuts me down, and spitting into my mouth will get it spat back out. There’s something about someone else’s saliva, at least in quantity. If a Top eats my ass and then kisses me because he wants me to taste my own ass on his lips or tongue when he kisses me, that’s not really a problem; it’s still a kiss, just with flavor. Tops routinely tell me to suck them after they’ve fucked me so I’ll taste my own ass and their cum, so the issue isn’t the taste, or the concept. I’ve had plenty of Tops scrape my own cum off my belly with their fingers and put it straight into my mouth, again, not a problem. But combining a lot of it with their spit for me to swallow - by the time we’ve got to that extent the kissing itself isn’t the main event. Honestly, I wish it didn’t matter to me - anything that prevents me from tailoring my response to fit a given Top’s desire is something I consider a grievous shortcoming in my ability to perform my duty for other Men, but this is something I haven’t been able to get past.

Don’t worry, she won’t ask any questions - they do this all the time because men are constantly needing to unzip their pants in the back. Yeah. Expect raised eyebrows. In addition to what you wear and the excellent advice about attitude, I might suggest that you be conscious of the way you walk. Just incorporating a little sway that rocks your ass subtly back and forth as you walk by them can make a difference. There’s science behind this - the female pelvic/hip structure is more broadly centered than in males, thus producing a more ‘rocking’ gait. I use this to good effect at bathhouses. You don’t want to be obvious about it, but sashay that ass.

This blog entry marks my 2,000th posting on Breedingzone since I joined on this month in 2017. I would never have imagined I would have had that much to say on the subject of fucking, especially considering the kind of person I was in the beginning. That number 2,000 has a peculiar resonance around me just now - twelve days ago was the 20,000th day since I was born - I’ve been alive 2,000 to the tenth power days. I recently figured up that I had to have taken my 1,000th cock, so 2,000 is double my fuck tally. I’ve also ticked over my 2,000th day as an AIDS survivor about a little less than two years ago. I figured up that in the year before COVID struck, my travel to CumUnion in Indianapolis, round-trip, added up to about 2,000 miles of driving. That took a little time to sink in - I drove 2,000 miles for the express purpose of taking other men’s cocks up my ass. It’s funny how things add up on you before you realize it. But that’s the thing about this 2,000th post on a site about bareback gay sex - there was once a version of me who could never have imagined I would become what I am now, and is still in here somewhere, stunned at the way things overtook me. I went from a straight-arrow, starched-shirt, sexually clueless innocent (I was still a virgin when I graduated from my undergraduate years) to a trained sexual submissive for service to men, veteran of years of use in BDSM scenes, tortured, debauched, and devolved. In high school guys called me a fag and I didn’t even know what the word meant - now I realize that by some men’s definition, I am a faggot... and I can’t deny it. My body is owned by a man who cunts me at his pleasure. My former Master took a latent instinct and forced me to confront and accept that it was my true nature. Two thousand posts - practically a book in which I tell the whole world that I’m a cumdump for men. As statements go, that’s pretty unequivocal. There’s no way of knowing how many men have read what I’ve written and know what I am - for every member who posts, how many lurkers simply read? Slowly, the numbers accumulate, people who know the nature of me. I can’t tell whether this troubles me or not. Yes, there’s a sense of humiliation I feel when I have to accept that references to cumdump, faggot, cunt, pussyboi, all apply to me. I feel torn because I feel the shame of submitting to other men, yet feel in the core of my being that I am in my right place and being used as I was born to be used. 20,000 days have all led up to this moment. Or have they? Could I have simply turned left instead of right at some point and never become this at all? Or am I predestined to someday take my 2,000th load? Who knows? Except I’m already halfway there. And, I was fucked again three times last Saturday and once last night. These things add up on you, you know.

I was just thinking about this yesterday. When I slut at a bathhouse I always have my 7” dildo with me to open me up, and every time, once or twice during the visit guys will come in, not say a word, absolutely jackhammer my cunt with that dildo as hard and fast as they can, and then leave without fucking me themselves. I don’t get it. I mean, I don’t stop them; if that’s what they need from my hole then that’s what I provide. But I can’t explain it. I suppose it could be rival bottoms trying to wreck a hole to put it out of the competition, but that doesn’t explain the behavior you experienced. My weirdest hookup came, regrettably, at the end of a two-hour drive to meet the guy. This was years ago when I was still looking for guys on the basis of compatible interests, and this guy seemed promising - interested in science fiction, well-read, seemed friendly, wanted to tie me up. Green lights all the way down, so I made the drive to his apartment. ”Interested in science fiction” doesn’t begin to encompass what met me when I walked through his door. Practically every square inch of horizontal surface that wasn’t floor was occupied by figurines and statuettes from sci-fi shows and movies. Model starships hung from the ceiling. Posters papered the walls. He had items I never dreamed existed, from the most obscure shows and movies. As a collection, it was stunning. As a measure of the man, it was alarming. There was nowhere to set my toy bag, let alone sit down. Not that he allowed any time for that. As soon as I came in, the museum tour began, a quite thorough retrospective of the entire collection. The tour concluded in his bedroom, where one found the only horizontal space free from the denizens of a galaxy far, far away - his bed. You might think that well, at least I was able to get down to business. No. Suspended over his bed like a canopy hung a life-size figure of the wraithlike Ghostface from the Scream movie franchise: staring straight down at you in the bed. There was no. way. in. hell. I was letting that man tie me up. I complimented him on his collection, thanked him for the tour, and skedaddled.

My current regular local Top indicated a few weeks ago that he wanted to get his fist into me, which was fine by me as I has been wanting to find a fisting Top to experience it. On his first try he made significant progress, but told me that I was just a bit too tight and needed to practice opening myself up. I do what a Top says. I got a couple of quite nice toys - one with a circumference of 10” at the base - and set to work until I could take them all the way. I worked on self-fisting, but couldn’t get all the way in because my hand kept pressing against what feels like bone, but I assumed that was just because of the difficult angles in trying to do it yourself. This last weekend, the Top tried again. My hole opened just fine, but he still couldn’t get all the way in. He said he keeps coming up against bone. This man has fisted many guys, and his hands aren’t huge - just average size. He says it may be that the entry to my pelvis is simply too narrow to accept anything but a smaller hand. I did some study on the anatomy of the pelvic floor, however, and there doesn’t seem to be any bone that should be causing the problem - is it possible for the muscles and ligaments to be so tight in the pelvic floor that they feel as unyielding as bone? Have any of you experienced fisters encountered this issue, and is there a way you deal with it? Or is it possible that I may just be unfistable for the average hand?

Day before yesterday my current go-to Top had me on my side with one leg pushed way up so he could go for depth, and was hitting me so deep and hard that I was couldn’t help being really loud and vocal. In the middle of it all I kept hearing this weird sort of buzzing whooshing noise happen over and over. Later on, after he had finally finished emptying himself into me (three loads this time) I asked him what the noise had been. “Oh, that,” he said. “I was just using Snapchat.” It seems there’s a young hard-up guy who comes to this Top when he needs money and offers up his ass. This Top does not have to pay for sex, ever, but he gives the guy a $20 to help him out and fucks him, but he says the guy can’t really take it. So anyway, the sound I was hearing was him sending this pay-for-play bottom video clips of him fucking the hell out of me - for free - and me taking it balls-deep. He said the other guy was all to pieces over it. I couldn’t decide whether it was mean or hilarious, but the way he told it I couldn’t help laughing. I know he takes pics and video of himself fucking me all the time, and I know he shares them with people in real time while he’s doing it. I have no idea who’s seeing it, and I don’t ask - he owns the Deed to my body, if he wants to share what he does with it, it’s his prerogative. I don’t know whether my face is ever visible or not, but in the footage I’ve seen he tends to focus on cock/cunt penetration. My voice, though... I have no doubt they can hear that.

I would take that a step farther, in reference to the other sense of stealthing, i.e., intentionally infecting someone. Purposely attempting to infect others with a serious illness for any reason is morally indefensible. Disease causes harm to the human body, sometimes potentially grievous, lasting harm, sometimes permanent, irreversible harm. A man who acts with the intent to cause another person to contract disease perpetrates a physical assault as surely as if he had used a cudgel. One person does not ethically set out to harm another in such a way. Nor do the scenarios so often cited here of bugchasers and bathhouses absolve the intentional infector. Much, much is said in these forums (ad nauseam) about the sanctity of the rights of two individual men to make a decision for one man to infect another with disease - as if this were not insane. But at its core, the ethical question remains absolutely the same: Is it right to knowingly make another person ill? Some here would have us believe, “yes, if he wants to be ill,” but that doesn’t answer the question put to the infector: Is it right for you to knowingly make another person ill? No. It is not. The illness in your body is a weapon. You must not use it to harm. If a man knows he has Gono, is it morally acceptable for him to go to a bathhouse and fuck a dozen bottoms who don’t ask any questions because they obviously know the risks? No. For a Top who knows he has gono to go fucking, that means they’re no longer taking a risk, they’re facing a threat. The fact that safety wasn’t discussed does not translate into permission to intentionally harm. I will never know if the man who gave me HIV knew what he was doing when he did it. I choose to believe he was unaware of his status, because to think that someone would have intentionally given me the disease that nearly took my life seven years ago would blacken my outlook on humanity.

The cock gets hard because the brain, at some level, tells it to. Even Viagra only works if “the spirit is willing”. For some reason, therefore, your brain is shutting off the “hard” switch when another person enters the picture. An erection is actually a rather complicated process that requires a number of factors to be properly in place, any of which being off can cause a scrub of the mission (I sometimes compare getting and keeping a solid boner to launching the Space Shuttle.) Just this evening my go-to Top was telling me that the reason he hadn’t fucked me for two weeks was that his blood pressure had spiked and caused an ED problem. Blood pressure, lack of rest, performance anxiety, unwanted thoughts of your grandmother... lots of things can sink the ship. Try to think about the state of mind you’re in when you’re solo, and compare it to the state of mind you’re in when someone else is there. How are they different? What makes that feeling different? Try to narrow down the factor that separates success from failure. Do you, by any chance, use poppers when you’re with someone? It could be as simple as that - poppers kill erections, and nothing you can do will revive a poppered penis until it wears off. Have you tried taking Viagra (sildenafil) to assist with the problem? It might be worth talking to your doctor about trying a test dose or two to see if it helps - just don’t do it with poppers. One possible alternative if you just can’t get past whatever mental blockage is going on is to talk to your doctor about trying Caverject (alprostadil), an ED treatment that is injected directly into your cock (nowhere near as horrifying as it sounds, I’ve done it). This treatment will stiffen you up regardless of your mental state. You may, however, need a referral to a urologist in order to get it prescribed; some general practitioners may not go for it. Good luck - you can get past this.

Repeat after me: “Your Kink Is Not My Kink.” A ‘valid fetish’? Seriously? That’s what you hang your moral argument on? So if if I have a fetish for shocking guys in the balls with an electric cattle prod, it’s just fine for me to do it to some random bottom with his sack exposed as long as it’s anonymous? No, it isn’t, and neither is anonymous stealthing. Your argument is that maybe the other guy will get off on it? Yeah? Well you wouldn’t know one way or the other before you did it, would you, because he’s anonymous. So essentially, you would just be making a baseless assumption because it conveniently lets you get off on your ‘valid fetish’. Let me tell you something, as one guy who has serviced many, many, many anonymous cocks - you’re wrong. I wouldn’t get off on it, and nobody’s fetish is so ‘valid’ that it trumps my consent.

I’m sorry that happened to you. It’s really kind of reprehensible to be critical of someone’s intimacy. You deserved better. Still, the key phrase is “his expectations”. You’re not responsible for living up to whatever unreality he had created for himself. @funpozbottom is exactly right - if he doesn’t modify his own way of looking at things, he’s in for a lot of disappointment. I would add that although in fantasy a person usually controls all the variables, in reality often the only variable a person can control is his own expectations.

I like this question because it’s designed to cleverly lure out the assholes among us and show us how they think. Fortunately, they seem to be a minority. The ethical question of stealthing lies in two considerations - is an agreement being breached, and is the victim being subjected to potential harm? The first question can be answered definitively if the two parties agreed at the outset to protected sex. Stealthing is a clear violation, and ethically indefensible. The question becomes murkier if no discussion or explicit agreement occurred. If the bottom has a box of condoms on the table, it may indicate a preference rather than an insistence. If the bottom actually hands the Top a condom, and he accepts it and puts it on, does that constitute a non-verbal agreement? Legally you’d have to ask an attorney, but ethically, by doing so the Top represents his intentions and leads the bottom to believe he will behave a certain way, and when he does not, it becomes deception - again, indefensible. One thing that is unclear, and that I think would probably have to get ironed out if the new anti-stealthing laws are put into practice, is whether condom use is the universal unspoken standard of consent. That is, if there is no explicit agreement, can a Top be held liable simply for bare condomless penetration without explicit consent? Given that bare entry is the natural state, that sounds to me a difficult case to make as a standard, but I can imagine an argument being made. As to the second question, we must assess whether the stealther may harm the person stealthed by his action. A defense might be made that since no explicit agreement was entered into, the Top does not violate the first question (at least in the strict sense). But then we must turn our thought to whether the stealther causes harm, and harm comes in different forms. First, there is the risk of exposing the victim to any sexually transmitted disease the stealther may carry, and unless the stealther just came fresh from a doctor’s office with a clean bill of health, he can offer no guarantee of that - indeed, even tests give false negatives. Second, the psychological harm that derives from being betrayed and violated in such an intimate way can be substantial and lasting. And third, regardless of whether either of the first two harms occur, the stealther robs the victim of his personal agency and the right to decide what to allow to be done to his body. The fact that this third harm occurs automatically, and is inherent in the nature of stealthing, means that the second question is always answered in the positive - it’s just a question of whether either of the other two harms are heaped on top as well. For one person to knowingly bring harm to another to achieve his own gratification is unethical; to do so by deceit is odious, and unmanly. To suggest that it’s wrong to do so but then say that it’s fine to do it as long as the person is anonymous to you and as far as you’re concerned is “asking for it”...is monstrous.

Are you sure? I booked yesterday and didn’t have any problem securing a room, and had a choice of rooms. Were you using the hotel booking link on the IML website? You have to book via that link to book a room for the event. I imagine the event has most of the hotel’s rooms as a reserved block for attendees, so anyone trying to reserve from outside the event would find no vacancy.

It is at the Congress. @Swampboi - I’m going for the week. I’ve never really been to Chicago, so I thought I might as well make the most of it.

Peak? I don’t think I’ve ever reached a ‘peak’. I’ve been sore, and raw, and exhausted, and conquered before, but the second the next man appears and wants it, I’m back in the saddle. If I have anything, it’s endurance. Not that I wouldn’t love to have that stress-tested... 🙂

Well - I’ve never been, and a number of men on here have recommended it to me, so by gum, I took the plunge and got tickets and hotel reservation today. I have no idea whether I meet anybody’s standard of fuckability at an event where testosterone is worn as plumage, but at least I’ll be able to say ErosWired was at IML. Now I just have to run up to the leather shop and pick out a couple of nice quality pieces to make myself a new harness and jock - I need something a little more minimalist. A while back I made myself a full harness and a jock with detachable codpiece - that was fine for the kind of scening I was requested to do then, but might be a bit overwrought for an event. I could be wrong, though, having never been. Best to go prepared for all eventualities.

I live alone, so clothing is entirely a function of temperature for me in the house. If I don’t wear anything to bed, sometimes I don’t bother dressing when I get up. But if there’s a chill in the air, time to insulate. The cat doesn’t seem to care one way or the other. Nude beaches? In Kentucky? Ha. Ha. Ha. When I go to camp, absolutely I go naked. I only dress where necessary to enter certain spaces like the dining hall. Not part of a nudist group, but I was once invited to a gathering of a men’s nudist group in Louisville. Fascinating experience. The fact that everyone was naked turned out to be about as important as if no one had been. I had a lovely conversation with a guy about historic preservation of antebellum houses. The only thing thing that set it apart as a nudist event for me was that a couple of men inquired about my cock piercing. It wasn’t an orgy, just a social gathering without clothes. Do I get together naked with friends? No. I’ve never been fortunate enough to have friends I could be like that around. I have a theory that I didn’t get enough naked time when I was a child, and I’ve been operating under a deficit ever since - I really enjoy it. I think it’s why I love bathhouses so. A place where I get to be naked! I find that I never give a second thought to my physical appearance when I’m unclothed; nothing is concealed, anyone can see me for exactly what I am. They can take it or leave it, and there’s nothing I can do about what they think, so I’m not going to waste the energy worrying about it. I’ve never been one of the Beautiful People, so I don’t try to play their games. Sometimes being publicly naked feels like the most liberating thing I ever do.

“Unfinished” sounds like “uninsulated”, which can become uncomfortable for naked people depending on where it is at what time of year. It also translates into “not soundproof”, so something to consider if the sound of what’s happening inside might be heard in places you mightn’t want. I’ve had both an attic and an enclosed cellar in my house set up as playrooms in the past, and each had its own challenges. (Among other things, the St Andrew’s Cross is still in the cellar because I would have to completely disassemble it to get it out.) If you’re thinking in terms of anything involving suspension, make double sure the fittings you choose are rated for the weight they’re expected to handle, and make triple sure you’ve chosen a rock-solid means of securing them to the ceiling or walls. Like those above, I can’t offer too much specific detail without knowing your definition of ‘play’, but generally speaking if you’re going to outfit a space, don’t try to do it on the cheap. Quality materials, well-made restraints, durable hardware, high-grade leather, sturdy furniture. I promise you, when you choose cheap stuff, something is going to break, fall apart or otherwise let you down right in the middle of your play and spoil the mood - it never fails. Better to start small and quality and build on it than have a playroom full of cheap crap. Think not just about the kinky, but also the mundane - storage spaces, racks to hang and organize things, a place for cleaning supplies (and lube), a first-aid kit, a fire extinguisher (my former Master was into fire-flogging. With fire.) Think about whether you need a table for tools and toys, and whether that table needs to move around on wheels. You can get as fancy as your twisted imagination can go, believe you me. There are people who acquire complicated medical examination furniture for their setups. I was once ‘examined’ in a room set up as an exact duplicate of a proctologist’s examination room, complete with the equipment to perform a colonoscopy. (I did not receive the deluxe treatment.) Of course, you may just be thinking it would be cool to have a sling. For most people, that’s as much adventure as they’re looking for. @FelchingPisser above mentioned red lights - there’s some science to this - red wavelengths don’t inhibit night vision. Your eyes take less time to adapt to seeing in dark rooms.

Lol - Well, I suppose that’s possible, too. I’m such a pollyanna that I never think of anyone having an ulterior motive...

It strikes me as possible that this man may, in this unique circumstance, have only just discovered that that kind of stimulation was pleasurable. It’s possible that your ministrations were the first time in his life since infancy that anyone has ever touched him in that way. All people are capable of feeling pleasure from anal stimulation; it’s a biological adaptation that encourages our necessary elimination function. In the wild, some mother animals will lick the anuses of their newborns to stimulate defecation. I don’t necessarily think you may have discovered a latent faggot; I simply think he may have discovered something about his body. When he recovers, his obviously dutiful wife may discover that she’s acquired another duty...

I have had this happen once. He did it and then said, “I just pissed inside you.” Very matter-of-fact. I didn’t say anything, just went straight to the bathroom and expelled it immediately. And I never hooked up with him again, because piss is one if my (few) hard limits. It wasn’t his fault, really - because it was vanilla sex we hadn’t discussed limits, and I hadn’t expected him to get kinky on me. On the other hand, something like that is pretty radical to pull on a guy whose level of sexual adventurousness is unknown to you. It was a pity - he was beautiful, and he had an absolutely perfect cock that was every millimeter of the 9” he claimed. I’ll never forget him because I was mesmerized by the way his eyes rolled back in his head in pleasure when he hit me balls-deep. The incident happened the third time we fucked. Had he not done that, I might still be looking him up today. Admittedly, the problem lies with me, not him. I can’t explain why piss squicks me - probably the smell - and I should probably try to get over it so as to be able to ensure that I can don’t deny a Top his pleasure. But so far, I just can’t do it. Drink it? Out of the question.

What is this ‘underwear’ you speak of?

Well! I just read something very interesting along these science-y lines. The gas emitted by poppers that has the effect of relaxing smooth muscle tissue is nitric oxide (NO). Apparently, breathing through the nose naturally produces nitric oxide within the body, while breathing through the mouth does not. This obviously has implications with respect to poppers, and whether one gets the same effect inhaling by nose versus inhaling by mouth. Whether the fact that what you’re breathing in by nose is already nitric oxide reduces the natural effect from nose-breathing, I don’t know, but if not it suggests that one does indeed get a bigger bang per sniff through the nose.

Wow! You went above and beyond on that reply. Thanks very much!

I enjoy these kinds of statistics. Studies on the average volume in a human ejaculation, by the way, put the average volume at only 2.8mL, or just slightly over half a teaspoon for most men. So most guy who make withdrawals from the spank bank at your remarkably prodigious rate are probably not going to experience quite the level of output volume that you’re calculating. But I assume you’re basing your figures on how much you produce yourself - someone who produces a teaspoonful each time is still on the high end of the recorded average range at 5mL ~ 1 tsp. I know there are some men who produce exceptionally high volume of semen, but 36 gallons is impressive no matter how you look at it. Imagine 36 large milk jugs in a row, all full of cum...it certainly makes you look at a bowl of cereal very differently...

I’m on a crusade to convince Tops to quit using poppers, because I have yet to encounter a Top who doesn’t at least get softer from poppers, and the vast majority go limp. Some of them after no more than a single huff. ”Oh, that doesn’t happen to me.” Right. And you’re immune to gravity too, I suppose, since your body doesn’t respond to physics. This isn’t deep science - poppers work by relaxing soft muscle tissue. This relaxes the anus - useful for bottoms - but also allows expansion of blood vessels, which lowers blood pressure, and also relaxes the muscles needed to prevent blood outflow from the cock to maintain an erection. So, Mr. Top, if you can feel the effect of poppers in your head, it means your blood pressure is bring affected throughout your body, and even though you might feel hornier from the poppers, your cock is getting a whole different message. So is the bottom you’re suddenly having difficulty penetrating. Nowadays I solve the problem of Tops asking to sniff my poppers by leaving a little brown bottle on the table where they can find it. The bottle is nearly empty and its contents are flat an nearly spent, so they can snort away til the cows come home and let their sense of smell and their imagination actually turn them on. Which is the majority of what actually happens anyway.