leatherpunk16

Thanks for your concern. My coach actually knew what he was doing, and it wasn't to get money out of me, but to see me succeed because he knew he couldn't dissuade me from it. I had the right supplements to take care of the internal economy, and the worst effects I had was a rash of REALLY bad acne on my back and chest. All clear now, has been for a while. I monitored my blood, and did all the precaution things. I am unlikely to experience long-term effects. It's a dangerous fetish with incredible results, but can be catastrophic when it's just done willynilly and recklessly.

Sure. Bottle that shit and we'll call it "Great Bluedini". LOL

Yep. Long been a fantasy of mine. For a couple short periods, the fantasy became reality. I've been a porn star, and a great majority of us are juiced so we can keep in great shape year-round. The beef is part of what sells, and is why you don't see overweight guys in films. I don't know much about the things I put in my body back then. I had a coach, and just did what he told me, and it worked. Took out the guesswork and it didn't give me reasons to pause and consider what I was doing. Never had Tren. But definitely D-bol, Deca, Masteron, and Test. I was fucking radioactive and I loved the feeling. Would totally do it again.

All right. Boner achieved.

Mine are sitting out also. They're on an upper shelf in my sling room. Most people don't look at it, although the Oxballs Alien Tail is prominently displayed in its packaging. But I shouldn't do that. It's why their covered in dust and cat hair, and always need a cleaning before use. If I EVER use them, lol.

It was on Fuckbook. He and I are friends, and I copied it directly.

Before anyone says something inappropriate, I'm going to copy in what Brian Bonds had to say on the matter. "Warning: Honest opinion. Over the past few months, we’ve lost some amazing performers; Colton Ford, Tim Krueger, Apollo Moon and Roman Mercury. And I see comments on our posts in memorandums that you’d normally make on a thirst trap post. It doesn’t matter if they’re sex workers, we are expressing the loss of a friend, co-worker, brother, significant other. So to make sexual comments on posts like these is not only way too soon, but to me shows a lack of compassion for our loss and the dead themselves. So when someone dies, it doesn’t matter how sexy they were, how many times you jacked off to them, even if you’ve been intimate with them, please keep your comments respectful. The mental gutter may be deep but it’s shallow enough for you to come out of it for a second to not sexualize the dead."

I remember such days when I was hooked on bareback like an addict. Once I started doing it raw in 2009, I couldn't fucking stop. My sex drive was at an all-time high because I had two fuckbuddies who encouraged me to be a slut, and showed me wonderful things. And I fucked everyone I possibly could in 2010 until I got gono. I slowed down after that because I had to suffer with the bug for nearly a month while I waited to get treatment (public health care really sucked where I was).

Or find a human urinal in the queue, but that's not always available.

Or any pooping! Some guys are into that, but not many. Carry your poppers. My own experience showed that they don't carry their own, and someone will borrow it and then share it with another, so it becomes hard to keep track of where your bottle actually is. One of those cords round the neck can help keep it from migrating or disappearing altogether (or worse, spilling everywhere).

I had one such experience many years ago after a summer event in Chicago (maybe Pride? I don't remember). I hooked up with a guy, we went to his room at the bathhouse, and quite out of nowhere, I lubed my hand and shoved it DEEP in him. He groaned with pleasure and woofed. Totally unexpected, and we had not discussed fisting. I don't know WHY i did that, and I didn't in the moment, either. I apologised and pulled it back out. Then we fucked. Still friends with him on Fuckbook, but we haven't been together since that night or even really talked. Fisting is fucking weird.

Be prepared for a wait. A couple years ago, I was going back to my hotel as I passed by SW. There were quite a few men outside the place, all waiting to get in. So be advised that this could happen, and you might want to be ready for that possibility. Bring a bottle of water and maybe a munchie in your sack, or whatever you feel you might need while you wait to enter.

I am right, I'm sure of it. But I have not heard from Lucky in a long time. But trust me - there is more to come.

It's coming. Work in progress.

Holy shit. Did that give you a false impression of what OTHER dicks look like?

Also want to point out that there are indeed "bottom poppers" and "topper poppers". If you're having trouble staying hard while huffing, then it is worth considering that your poppers may be intended for bottoms (who have no need to stay hard). Regertably, I can't remember which ones do what. But it a very real thing. Also, we're all bottoms when we just don't get it up...! LOL

I don't really keep track of loads and counts, so I'll share a story for something different. On Friday night, I went to a local fisting event at Steamworks. The party died down fairly early, and I went on the prowl around the place. I spotted a guy hanging out of his room - not really a looker, but what got my attention was the guy at his door. Tall, bald, shaved hairless like a swimmer. I stopped here and the three of us weighed the option of tag teaming the boy in his room. Baldy had a nice thick dong, and I felt really comfortable with him. The boy sucked on Baldy's dick, and Baldy leaned in for a kiss with me, but didn't follow through with it. He pulled back instead and announced he only just arrived like 15 minutes prior, and wanted to prowl a little before selecting a bottom. I kinda wanted the same, but also the Baldy. Neither of us played with the boy, and moved on to other conquests. That would have been the end of it, but it was really a beginning. Near 1am, I start gassing out, and I'm ready to be done for the night. I return to the locker area, and when I round the corner to get to my locker, Baldy is there, getting his own things. It surprises me, and we start talking. He's a vapist, a swimmer, came from Minneapolis for the weekend, and was here for the fisting party but evidently missed it because of a late arrival. His vape battery is dead, but I know mine certainly isn't. I get dressed with him, and ask him to wait for me and we'll walk out together. He can have a few hits off mine if he likes. I really didn't expect him to DO it. We leave, and I can see him in better lighting. He's ... decent-looking, to my great surprise (bathhouse lighting tends to distort and hide things). He takes a few grateful clouds, and we walk for a distance. He's stopping at a hostel near the lake, and his road takes him all downhill. He and I walk together about halfway back to my penthouse, talking all the way. We exchange names, and before we part, I don't want him to go. So I take a risk and ask for his number so we might play tomorrow. He gives it and texts me after we separated - he wants to get naked with me. I went to bed exhausted. I've been down this road before - I meet a hot guy, we do the phone tag thing, and I never see him again, and I certainly don't get the expected fun. This time turned out differently. Saturday saw us not getting together at all. We each did our separate Saturday activities, and at mid-day, I touched baritones with him. He's gonna take "a Power nap" and we'll play later when night comes. The long day starts catching up with me, and I go to bed early, saying "That would have been nice." I was down about it all Sunday morning. My guy was expected to fly back home on Sunday afternoon, and I felt ghosted. It happens, but it's always hard for me. Judge of my delight when he finally responds to me, and says he slept for 14 hours, and still wants to play! I'm not letting this get away again, so I agree to meet him. He pops on a scooter, and zips over here within ten minutes. The first thing I see of him is a huge cloud he blew into the glass as I'm approaching the door to let him in. He came upstairs, and I kissed him hard in the lift. He admits he needs a shower - the hostel couldn't provide one for some reason - so I let him use mine. While he bathes, I'm practically dancing around the penthouse with joy. We get naked, we chat some, and he's quickly putting my D in his mouth. He's also a decent kisser, and likes a lot of the same kinky shit I like. Baldy bends over and wants the D inside him but doesn't support himself with anything like furniture, so I offer him a variety of places to fuck: he can lean against the couch, or the piano, or we can get in the sling, or on the bed. He chose the bed. We go there, we fuck some, but he feels an urge, and we get back up. He returns to the bathroom, and before long, I hear the toilet flush. Probably extra water, so I suspect he used my douche nozzle while he was in there. We get in the sling this time, and resume fucking. I turn on a playlist of bathhouse "music", and continue plowing his hole. We kiss, we chat, we say dirty things, he asks me to choke him. And he gets off first, spraying cum all over himself. I stay inside him while bending over and licking it up and kissing him with it. He seems into this, and ask him where he wants my load. Inside him is his choice, and that's just what he gets. Bred him HARD. We get Baldy out of the sling, and he returns to the bathroom. I yell at him, "I worked hard to make those spermies, so you KEEP THEM!" He thought it was funny, but just emptied his bladder instead. "A waste of piss," said he. We had some cuddle time post-coital, and admitted he's single and just out having fun. I could see myself dating him if he lived in the city. He's a decent guy and great in the sack. But he had to go get his luggage and race to the airport. So I showed him out, got a hug, and asked him to come back someday. Baldy says it could happen, but if it doesn't, we have a perfect memory of this hookup. Wish he had allowed a photo of us as a souvenir, but he wasn't keen on the idea that I might share it with others (which I wouldn't, but he barely knows me, so I get his need for privacy). How 'bout that. Went from a pit of disappointment to the pinnacle of earthly joy in just under an hour. Really made my day. God, I hope I see him again. That meeting on Friday night was no accident.

On the few occasions where I bust my nut before the top does, I have found that my hole slams shut. There's so much going on with the sensitivity and nerve endings in that immediate area that it becomes overload. And I do NOT have a good time. Hurts far too much. Case in point: When Lance Charger was fucking me for SayUncle, he wanted to get me off and use my own spunk as his lube. Hot in theory, impossible in practice. I told him so, and he was disappointed as much as I was. Wish my body chemistry didn't work like that, because it would have added something good to our vid.

Green can be fun for a certain Irish holiday...!

I have never been fisted. Too damn tight, and although I would like to have a rosebud, I'm too lazy to work up to it. What got me into the sport was my buddy Jim. He lived and died a true pig. I had been visiting him regularly for a couple years, and one night, he was flying so high that he opened himself to even riskier behaviours. He had discovered German gay porn, and I found him watching something from Wurstfilm, I think. A guy was getting fisted. Jim asked, "Do you think you could do that to me?" I had ZERO experience with it, and knew it only by reputation. I don't think I'd even watched fisting porn. I was willing to give it a go - it looked pretty fucking insane, and Jim had corrupted me significantly, so I agreed to at least try it. We got on the dungeon bed, and I covered my hand and forearm in Crisco. His hole was pretty loose, and he could take several large toys at least halfway. (Not all at once, LOL.) And I just let instinct guide me. Jim was no help. I got grunts and moans and some incoherent words, and then... nothing. Before I knew it, nearly three-quarters of an hour had passed. I had just been drilling and pushing right along, and having fun, but my hand got sore and needed air. So I finally stood up and pulled my hand out of Jim. Covered in RED. And he had passed out. Or maybe fell asleep. Still breathing, so I didn't panic. Made sure he was clean with one hand, and then went upstairs to wash. Freaked out his partner when I showed him the bloody hand. We put Jim to bed eventually. I enquired the next day, and he said he was fine. No problems. But nearly every time after that, he asked me for my fists again. I learned about trimming and filing my nails after that first experience, and I managed to work him to my elbow in time. This was in 2011 and I was ... younger. LOL

A solid story. I especially like the detail, and how thorough it feels. Lots of possibility for growth and twists that keep a story interesting. The next instalment will likely be a ride, too.

My earliest fuckbuddy had this massive collection of toys. One of them was comically huge and smelled like vanilla bean. Neither of us could take it, but it was fun. Don't remember who made it.

It's probably the same. Sperm shouldn't know the difference. And maybe they ARE still alive, but perhaps frustrated they aren't finding the part they're supposed to go for fertilization. LOL

I've been to the Cumunion here a couple times. It's really just like any other night. Guys who want to fuck, guys who can't approach others, guys who ARE fucking but won't drop their loads, and a general feeling of "what am I doing here?". But that can happen anywhere, and it depends on the roll of the die. One person will feel like they wasted their night, another will have the night of their life. You take your chances and there's no surefire method of predicting which one you'll get.