leatherpunk16

What's it like these days? Much the same. Touche uses their backroom for club-specific events. Waterbuddies, BLUF night, MAFIA night (although I've never seen anyone getting fisted at those events), that sort of thing. Sometimes it's open to the public, but if you find a guy you like and want to fuck RIGHT MEOW, you can go behind the fence and no one gives two shits. Jackhammer is for those guys who want to fuck and don't care who it is, and it's not tied to a specific fetish. At Touche, the back room is frequently limited to a leather/fetish gear requirement, but not so at Jackhammer. If you have only a Nasty Pig jockstrap, just strip down and you're in. There is a space for socializing and grabbing a drink, but the primary focus is on play. They've got a St Andrews Cross, some benches, a couple slings, a piss trough, and I forget what else. The Cumunion parties are definitely there, and it's a tight space for those. You fuck where you stand because of the wall-to-wall people. If you're looking to roll about and screw on every piece of furniture, you'll be well disappointed. Also it's damn hard to see. If your eyes aren't good with red light, I don't recommend a visit. I went to the Cumunion party over IML 2019, and they had the red lights on full down there. It was like looking into a Virtual Boy screen. I had trouble making out faces and figures, and because I rely on sight to pick out sexual partners, I didn't have a great time or score with anyone who was "my type". The upshot is that the clothing check is free and gives prompt service. There's just not a good place to get dressed (or undressed as the case may be). And it's stiflingly hot. If you have breathing issues, you might find yourself a bit compromised. It's too loud to have any conversation, even of status or position, but that can be shewn through gestures and body language.

I can confirm this. When I was a horny teenage boy, I would jerk off into a pair of briefs and store it in my sock drawer. I also kept a record of how often I did this with tally marks on a small piece of stationary, and at the end of the year, I'd staple that to the briefs to say how many loads deposited. They got nice and crusty over a year. But I kept doing this until I turned 21. I took that year's pair with me to university, and so my roommate wouldn't find them by accident, I stuck a moist pair into a plastic bag and hid it in my closet. A few days later, I smelled something gross and moldy in our room. I ignored it, and after a couple weeks, I couldn't anymore. I pulled them out, and found green spots all over. It was putrid. Tossed that into the nearest dorm garbage where my homophobic neighbours found it and left it at my door with a note "You forgot these, faggot". Man, I hated university life. Anyway, never collected the loads like that again. Well, not in the BRIEFS, anyway. Now I collect them in a safer place. 😉 Or is it NOT safer? ☣️ 😜

I've been to SW Chicago a few times. The staff CAN be disrespectful, but who could expect to find nobility in such a place? That doesn't make it okay, but they know we can't take our business elsewhere. Mans Country is closed and gone, and the only other option is RAM (an adult bookstore). I once went into SW during Chicago Pride. It was late at night and I was totally knackered. When I was paying, I tried to show that the inflated fee was no big deal to me, and said "Whatever, I just want a place to lie low for the night and get a little rest." The attendant at the counter heard this, and thinking I just wanted a cheap motel, said "You're not getting in here tonight." I was a little dumbstruck. He pushed my photo ID back through the window opening and told me to hit the road. I was kinda stunned. First the rudeness, and second the presumption that I intended to sleep there and not fuck. I *might* have slept - I was certainly tired enough - and now I definitely had no place to go. Maybe I shouldn't have been so free and easy with the tongue, but still. That wasn't the end. While I stood a little frozen and dumbfounded, he served someone else. When he saw I was still here, he pointed toward the street and told me "It's not happening tonight. We don't cater to bums. Get out before I call the police for loitering." Not needing more stress and drama, I left. Was a long time before I went back. Most of the experiences I've had were more positive. The staff is fairly helpful, but English is not their first language, so they don't understand things as clearly as we Westerners do. Part of the problem is a communication barrier. The other part is that they aren't obliged to show respect to you.

In 1999, I was producing my first show. It wasn't a performance - I hadn't the number of people to give a performance - but it was a studio recording, and I booked a local studio to make this recording. I met this tall black dude in his early 40s. Great smile and positive personality, and I was just 18. We became friends, and for a couple years, we had a good business relationship. I recorded another album in the summer of 2001 with him, and shortly before we made the album, he confessed that he was attracted to me. He's married and got kids, and wants to get in my pants. I was just discovering my sexuality, and eager for a partner, I let him jerk me off. It wasn't until 2002 that he pushed it a little further. I let him suck my dick and I returned the favour. During my jack off sessions at college in 2003, I would fantasize about letting at my hole the next time. And I made that a reality the following autumn. I drove over to his place after school, and we went into his basement where the studio was. He pulled my pants down, and started fingering my hole. Totally dry. Then he started kissing me and fondling me. I went with it, and before long, he had me bent over a bar stool with a BBC in my ass. This dude was kinda big, I'd say 8 inches tops, and THICK. He was happily pounding away and being very vocal and I was seeing stars. I had never bottomed in my life and it was the best thing ever. Just before he reached the climax, there was a knock from upstairs. His student - he taught guitar lessons - had arrived nearly 20 minutes early for his lesson. We had to stop at once, throw on some clothes, and get me out of the house. As he let his student in through the front door, I was sneaking out the garage door and running back to my car. This guy and I continued to fuck and suck until the summer of 2005 when he started having issues with getting an erection. 😟

It's hard to tell who is speaking in this chapter.

Despite bottoming a number of times, I have never actually FELT the cum inside me. Guys have certainly unloaded there, and I felt the spasm, but that was it. Mostly I feel the sensation of having been fucked in the ass, and once in a while, I get a cum fart. But nothing more. I don't feel moist or sticky or anything. Maybe I'm broken?

Barely related story: The first time I saw a sling was at the Chicago Steamworks either in 2012 or 13. I didn't know what this was for, and I walked around it several times trying to determine its function and purpose. Eventually someone saw me doing laps and told me "Just get in already!" So I sat on it and damn near fell out. I had slipped on old lube as I was sitting and grabbed the chain as I fell. The guy came over and said "Here, let me show you." He could see I didn't know where the hell I was, so he kindly demonstrated how to get in, and put the feet up, and that was it. He asked me if I would fuck him. I tried, but I'm so damn tall that squatting that far down made it murder my knees. He asked me if he could have it for a while. I left him to his prize. In hindsight, I think my weirdness annoyed him and he just wanted the sling but used the opportunity to educate. Cut to me a few years later, and I'm reassembling my late husband's sling in the basement. No idea how it goes together. I'll stop posting now, LOL

If your room is already booked, I don't think you can change from one tower to the other if all the rooms have been let for the event. They're pretty much the same, except one (I forget which) has wider hallways and rooms that are more like a studio apartment.

I know this feel. I dated casually for years without finding a good man for me. Wasn't until I hit 34 that I met my first boyfriend. That was more sex-based than compatibility, and didn't last more than 13 months. But I met my late husband shortly after that, and if were still alive, we'd still be together. I went through a lot of shit to find him, and get to a place where I was happy with things. I think everyone does this. It's part of life. I am not the person to ask for dating advice. But I will say that you must love yourself first, and based on what you've said, you're struggling with that. Keep collecting loads, keep seeing the guys who give you good lovin (it's good to look under the hood before you buy the car), and let it come to you. Go out and see what's out there. You live in New York, which sets the bar a little high, but sometimes it's the undiscovered gems that shine the brightest. Don't give up.

Yeah, take it, Brandon!

I think I'll take the record for the lowest tally of the thread, and claim only two loads all year. There was the black guy who bred me at IML Cumunion, and then a fellow mohawk bro at MIR last November. And that is IT, I swear! LOL I don't get loads very often, can you tell? Maybe 2020 will change that.

I've been playing with my dick since the age of 10. Knew when I was done by how it became painful at the end of a stroke session. Then I was doing it at the age of 12. I was home and from school and feeling ... different, so I took my dick out and played out of boredom. Midway through, I felt the sensation to piss. So I got up and went into the bathroom to relieve myself. Left the bathroom disappointed and went back to my activity. The urge to piss hit me a second time, and this time, it kinda hurt. So I jumped up again to go piss this time, but I didn't get there. I felt a throbbing pain in my dick and there was moisture. I fell on the kitchen floor when it happened. When I sat up and looked at my dick, it was super red and I had wet in my underwear. (Yes I jerked off in my underwear back then, lol.) I didn't really know what happened. I got up and went to piss after all, but still nothing came out. My boner went down, and that was that. I had never seen this mess before. I thought I broke my dick. Got really scared. I didn't say anything about it for a couple days, just let it stew in my mind. Then I did it again - pulled out, jerked off, and this time, the discharge of cum felt REALLY GOOD. Wasn't long before I figured it out. LOL

December 23rd, right here in my home. The person I share this house with has been spending most of December in the hospital for a multitude of sicknesses and injuries, so I've got the place to myself. I was unusually horny, but I'm picky about who I play with. I have to like something about them. On this occasion, I chose to forego that standard, and decided "a hole is a hole". So I messaged someone I knew would be interested. This local, "Max", who I had played with before. He did not impress me on our previous fuck sessions. I had him once last year but he was not that good. He came twice before I did once, and spilled the seed out when I got it into him, plus he's a cum-and-run kind of guy. Another time I was the 7th load in a hotel gangbang where he just surfed his phone the whole time trying to score his 8th load. I remembered his hole as being a little thorny, and not that pleasurable. I gave him another try because I *needed* to dump this load. He came over, and this time I went all out. Almost as soon as he got in the door, I nailed him to the wall and kissed him hard. We quickly went into my basement to fuck. This is where I keep my sling. We quickly got undressed, and after adjusting the seat a couple times, we went to it. I fucked him as hard as I could, and furiously dumped that load in his hole. This time he held on to it, and I had Max moaning and begging for that "sweet creamy jizz". I also got all my fingers inside his hole, and he says he'd be open to try fisting even though he doesn't know what a prolapse is. And he came twice again during the pounding. I really let him have it. That was our best fuck - considering how low the bar was set the previous two times, it's kind of an accomplishment. Next time he comes early, I'm going to collect that spunk and use it as lube to impregnate him.

In the autumn of 1997, I had to move to an apartment with my grandmother. It was a cheap-looking affair: a one-story building with four apartments in it, and we all shared one basement. There were no walls in the basement to signify which corner belonged to which tenant. I wasn't there very long before I noticed that my neighbour had a private room in this basement. His name was Jeff and he was just a couple years younger. I finally met him one night while I was doing laundry downstairs. He and his twerpy little brother marched up to me in that weird way teenagers do when they are on a mission, and started a conversation. I remember very little about it - mostly getting to know one another. This boy was CUTE and his name was Jeff. By this point in my growth, I knew I was gay, but I never had any opportunities to do anything about it. In fact, I wasn't even sure of my inclinations toward men. I hadn't really decided, and it was 'uncool' to be gay at my school, so I kept up appearances when I had to. Jeff was in fairly good shape, slender and defined, and had sweet eyes and lips. Since I had few friends and he was right next door, Jeff and I hung out quite often. We played video games in his basement, talked about school things and life issues, watched straight porn, and smoked quite an unhealthy number of cigarettes. We would also share a bottle of liquor from time to time. One night in the early spring of 1998, we really pounded the bottle hard, and were drunk as skunks. The room got really quiet, and Jeff was stroking himself a bit and watching me silently. Then he suddenly asked me, "Wanna fuck?" Just bluntly like that. My dick instantly stood up and I said "sure". He broke out the lotion, put some on my dick, and bent over for me. I just went with instinct. We agreed on a time limit - just a few seconds to "see what it's like". A few seconds turned into several minutes, and neither one of us wanted to stop. He muffled his moans into a pillow and I just slowly screwed him. Took my sweet time with it, but my inexperience kept telling me to just jackrabbit his hole. Jeff was surprisingly loose for a virgin. I don't remember my thoughts at the time. Eventually I felt that shudder when the climax is about to be reached. I kept it quiet so no one would guess what we were up to, and gave a few hard thrusts, and planted that seed deep. Jeff's demeanour suddenly shifted, like he didn't expect me to actually cum inside him. He just lay on the bed, shocked and silent, and I leaned against a wall, totally spent. My mind was blown, and so was my load. I lit a smoke, and just enjoyed the come-down. Jeff quietly withdrew himself, and went out of the room to "spit out a goober", but I think he actually went to the floor drain to squeeze that cum back out. He was gone way too long for just a spit. He came back in, sat down, and joined me in a post-fuck high. He rolled a blunt and smoked it, and just continued to look toward me, but not AT me. Almost no words exchanged. Hot story, right? I knew I was gay right then, and I had just bred my friend on a spur of the moment. Evidently, Jeff didn't think it was so hot. A week later, he tried to kill himself. When he came back from the hospital, I offered it to him again, and he absolutely refused. I think he couldn't handle his new-found sexuality, even though he initiated the whole thing. And by the end of the month, he was going to start going to the Catholic school across town, and suddenly moved his home over there. I never saw him again. I'm glad I made this discovery with a trusted friend, even if he didn't take it too well. I hope he's okay, and that he accepted his sexuality when he was ready to. I'll probably never know what happened to him.

Coyote, see what you can do about switching to Descovy. Might work out better for your overall health. Or, if it's something you really want, you can get bugged instead.

I loved my first boyfriend, and he loved me. The sex was okay - not great, but enough that we kept doing it. His skill as a top was nil. At least I didn't have to suffer long when he tried, and he tried SO HARD. When I stopped being the porn star who was also his boyfriend, he seemed to lose interest. Our sex became less frequent, and I felt like a weekend boyfriend, or a friend with a benefit. Eventually I had to get pegged by someone else. I had an itch that my boyfriend couldn't scratch because his dick was too small. When I told him, we broke up exactly as I expected. After my husband's death, we got back together for a couple months, but it was the same old shit. The sex was better than ever, but that's all it ever was. I couldn't love him, not after he disrespected my dead husband. If ever I fall in love again, it won't be because of great sex. That's just a bonus. I'm more attuned to the soul and having a lifelong pal who indulges what I need.

Yeah, pretty much. I've been on it for years, but seldom get any action. Only three times over the past decade has it really turned out to be worth my time. I once got a sexy daddy with a huge dong who fucked me senseless and gave me gono (so worth it); another time my first boyfriend asked me out on that site; and then my summer romance this past year. As of today, I talk to none of those people. 😞 But it's mostly flakes or guys who are too far away or are lousy in bed.

LOL, I might have to try that next time I go to a Waterbuddies party! Should the beer be room temperature or fresh and cold from the tap? I'm thinking mostly about the bottom's comfort.

- I finally finished my film for AlternaDudes, "Horny Strangers Meet and Fuck", after nearly four years since getting the engagement. As a side note, it's up for a Ravens Eden award for Best Niche Film. - Got bred by a black guy for the first time. All my previous men of colour have been bottoms, and the one top insisted on condoms. - Started PreP in January but had to give it up by July. My insurance changed, and I wasn't going to pay $1000 for a single bottle. I told the pharmacist I'd rather be poz than pay that outrageous price. She was not amused. - Got gono and spread it to one confirmed guy. He's totally cool with it. Not sure who gave it to me. - Made a few Just-For-Fans films but nothing spectacular. - Bought a new dildo that I *LOVE* to ride upon! I think that's as far as I got. Only one fisting given, and not much else that's noteworthy. Next year will be better.

Thank you for all the help, guys. This has given me immense insight to my difficulty. I'm over the worst of the grief - didn't weep at all on our anniversary, so that's a plus. No matter what I decide to do, one thing is an absolute and cannot be changed. Mark isn't coming back.

All very good advice. Thank you, gentlemen, for your counsel. I've had almost no one to talk to about this matter since it began, apart from friends and family who could only hold me and let me cry. You want to know what's really fucked up? Mark has a son, and he did not seem interested in pursuing any line of action, even prior to receiving the autopsy report. I've tried to get his support, but without success. It's like he doesn't care what happened to his dad. Based on what was earlier explained, the clincher is that he might be the only person who has a legal right to make any kind of claim to initiate the case. And that sucks most of all. I may have to forego my desire to punish Carl because the son won't take action. I will try to locate a representative who knows more about the legal ramifications of this. Thank you for hearing my story.