InsatiableSub

I'm guessing you're trying to emulate porn star pros by attempting to deep throat other guys. Kudos to you if you can. I cannot. Once I figured that out, I learned to concentrate in slow stroking movements, licking, running my lips up down his shaft, swirlimg my tongur around his cock head. When you realize hes gettimg into it, start using your lips and tongue to just go up and down in a smooth motion, taking as much into your mouth as yiure comfortable doing. He'll cum, trusy me.

During high school I tried, with limited success, to date girls. I was in denial, my sexuality locked in a closet so small and dark that I thought I was "safe". Dating girls was expected of me, of course, given my upbringing and social environment. Even in the early 80's, being gay in school was a real problem, being different in any way was a challenge. I suppose that's the same, today, but overall there is a much more permissible environment for expressing one's sexuality. My children probably won't be bothered one bit if they learn I am gay. Process that for a moment..... So, I dated, and eventually I lost my virginity at 17 to a girl I thought I loved. I graduated not much later and, lacking other viable options, enlisted in the Army. The Army was good for me, lots of discipline, hardship, I matured. I was still an insufferable little bitch when I let my guard down but I learned in the Army to further suppress my true nature. I almost convinced myself that I was "normal", except for the fact I wasn't getting laid. A thing happened that almost caused me to let my guard down, though. I was assigned as the driver for a brigade commander, an O-6, full bird Colonel. It's a pretty choice assignment for an E-3, got me my promotion to E-4 and an Army Commendation Medal. My roomie did something else, I can't remember now, but our schedules meant that we rarely saw each other. I don't know why but one day he left his wardrobe open so I decided to peek inside it. It was a mess but I noticed some magazines stashed on the upper shelf. Thinking they were Penthouse or something, I grabbed one to look at. They were all gay "art" magazines, just naked men posing, some erect, no sex, nothing overtly sexual beyond erections. I stroked to those magazines for almost a week, they revealed a whole new world I didn't know existed. I knew it was "wrong" and I'd get in trouble if anyone found out I was aroused by that sort of thing but I was, incredibly so, and I couldn't keep myself from jerking to them every single day. Well, like I said, I our schedules were really different and I didn't see him at all for that entire week. I was resolved to tell him what I'd found, what I'd been doing, thinking that maybe he'd....I don't know. I wanted to be a part of what I was seeing in the the magazines and I guess I thought he'd help me figure it out. Turns out, he went AWOL, missing for three days. Our platoon sergeant, a good guy I was on good terms with, did some sleuthing and found him at some house in a Tacoma suburb. Sarge told me there was a "gay fucking orgy going on, just naked dudes all over fucking". My roomie was one of them. Remember "don't ask, don't tell"? He was court martialed and dishonorably discharged. His possessions were cleared out before I had a chance to snag the magazines. I was so scared about what happened to him, I probably wouldn't have. I went back into my closet and stuffed my new-found feelings and emotions deeper down than ever before. My second, and last, duty assignment was in Germany. It's only mentionable because we lived in WWII-era barracks with one large shower room for everyone, maybe 9 nozzles total? There was a separate waiting area, where consensus had everyone keeping towels around their waists but once you were in the shower, it was swinging dicks, everywhere. It's probably a good thing I am near-sighted because all those naked men were just blurs to me. I knew nothing of the vibrant gay scene in many German cities and only learned about gay movie theaters shortly before my term of enlistment was up. I was honorably discharged in 1987 after a very long streak of missed opportunities and continued confusion and shame. After a couple of years of going to college while living with my parents, I accepted a job offer where I had been working as a temp, moved into my own apartment, and continued my life of celibacy (is it celibate if you jerk off every day?). It wasn't until three or four years later, at about age 25, I stretched my legs, so to speak.

I'm convinced that our lives are irrevocably shaped by our childhood experiences. No amount of willpower, education, or socialization will ever do more than slightly alter the course of our lives, a course set while we were quite young. I was born in 1965; at age four, my father enlisted in the Air Force to support his young family. My sister's birth probably had a lot to do with it. Delivering furniture wasn't much of a future for a young father but the military promised, at least, stability and surety for the future. It's funny, in the way that isn't, that during a time of societal upheaval, the Summer of Love, the Vietnam war and its protests, Woodstock, the Stonewall riots, the Civil Rights movement, the environmental movement, feminism....during all of this and into the 1980's, I grew up within a rigid and socially conservative environment known as the United States military. Specifically, I was an Air Force "brat", the child of a member of the Air Force. How can I describe it? It was safe, safe enough, at least, growing up in military housing complexes, living on military bases. Never once do I ever recall fearing for my physical safety, overall. School existed. I never wanted for food or clothing. My parents loved me or, at least, never ignored or harmed me. What difference did I know? Yet, for all the safety, there was an undefined requirement to fit in, to conform. Rush nailed it with their song "Subdivisions". And I didn't exactly fit in, I didn't precisely conform. I wasn't cool, and I was cast out. For starters, I was slender. Not small, not skinny, just slender. Blonde hair. Eyeglasses. I was a bookworm, and smart, sent to gifted programs, preferring to build model ships and airplanes over playing ball. I did not conform, I did not fit in (although I did have friends, I wasn't a loner). But I was different and called names because of it. The only name that mattered then was "faggot". It was a deadly insult. I wear it with pride, now, it's what I am. Then? Well, the only thing worse than losing a fight over being called "faggot" was not fighting at all, because not fighting at all meant that you accepted the moniker, it was a label that would stick with you and follow you from one of your father's duty stations to another because the world of military brats is pretty fucking small, all told. So, I fought. A lot. Generally, I lost or it was a draw. I won often enough that the insults and threats of fights became little more than posturing, until the next duty station. And here's the thing. I knew I was a faggot. No, I didn't understand the full implications of that word. I knew I was excited around other boys, though, and from about 11 to 13 I had five different encounters with other boys my age, basically touching, two gay boys who didn't quite know what it meant to be gay, playing some version of "doctor" they knew was both forbidden and so very, very exciting. Oh, but that oh-so-conservative military environment. Always in the background of everything I thought, said, and did was the knowledge that if I fucked up, my dad would get in trouble. I don't know how it is, now, but back in the mid-70's into the 80's if a service member's family member, spouse or whatever, got into serious trouble, the service member could be disciplined for it. Remember, this was back when the old policy of "Don't ask, don't tell" was simply "Don't". So I didn't. Only very furtively, very infrequently, and with an abiding and foreboding sense of guilt and shame and anxiety. That's the background, the childhood experiences and upbringing that has shaped my life. I was keeping a daily journal while seeing a therapist. She recommended that I write about my life, as catharsis, as outreach....I'm mainly doing it to help create a permanent, positive narrative for myself. Having it written down makes all the progress I've made over the years seem more....real. If it seems strange that I've finally settled on this particular site, this blog, to do it, it's not, I'm comfortable with myself, now, I'm a faggot and this site suits me and so I've chosen it to reveal all.

Sorry, I don't have any leads on gay-friendly waxing. I've been shaving myself in those areas for a couple decades, now. I can give you some tips on that, if you'd like.

I have played several times with a couple of different guys who were into BDSM. I enjoyed it. Each session was nothing more than beginner-level for me but I want to go further. I've posted my interest on various sites but no dice. Any advice on how to become a regular BDSM sub for an experienced man willing to train me?

My sister and I have always been very close. I think it's because we're four years apart in age, there was never any true sibling rivalry. She looked up to me as her big brother and I enjoyed playing that role. When I hit puberty and became interested in girls, Sara took an interest in my sudden infatuation with all things female. She was only nine but she seemed to instinctively understand my new attraction to the female body. We played “doctor”…many times. Nothing ever went beyond “show and tell” and some touching and kissing but, for me, it was an amazing introduction to female anatomy. I don’t know what she got out of it, at the time, being so young, but it left a lasting impact in my mind, and hers, as it turned out, years later. We both got through puberty, and high school, and each had our share of sexual partners. Sometimes we’d talk about the experiences, usually after a couple of glasses of wine or blunt or two. We shared everything, every fumbling detail, every climactic moment, the things that turned us on and the things that didn’t. Knowing what women liked…well, my sister…helped me to become a better lover and I absolutely boned my way through college. After graduation, I landed my dream job as a UX designer for a major software company. Around then, Sara graduated from high school and got her dream job working as a set designer for a major motion picture studio. We both were happy, until Covid came along. The first thing that happened to me was that I had to work from home all the time instead of about half the time. That wasn’t much of an imposition, really. I liked not having to fight traffic on days I was supposed to be in the office. Sara, on the other hand, ran into difficulties. At first, it seemed as if her job was secure, but that was an illusion brought about by the need to finish production on several movies close to finish. Once those dried up, she was laid off because of quarantine and social distancing restrictions. It didn’t take her long to do the math and realize she couldn’t make ends meet on unemployment, so she asked if she could move in with me. I had a two-bedroom, one bath bungalow big enough for the both of us, so it was easy for me to agree. I helped her move her stuff in on a Tuesday, in May. We never talked about rent or anything like that. But pretty quickly, Sara took on the role of the traditional housewife. She cleaned, she cooked, she did the little bit of yardwork necessary, and generally made my life very easy. I knew she wasn’t exactly looking for another job during those first several months, but I didn’t care. I easily made enough to support both us, I liked having her taking care of the house, and I liked having her around. By October, our lives were so intertwined, so attuned to each other’s rhythms, that it seemed like we’d been living together forever. We didn’t go out, obviously. She did all the shopping, we’d go on walks for exercise, but no bars, movies, theaters, nothing like that. We were like everyone else, forced to live closely together because of the pandemic, except we liked it. We joined an online exercise class together, we’d do stretches, lunges, body weight exercises. There was nothing sexual about our workouts but the scent of her body, watching her move, it was very sensual. That sensuality began creeping into our everyday lives. Neither one of us had much in the way of body modesty. We’d seen each other naked many times when were younger, after all. It became common for either of us to walk around in our underwear, sometimes Sara would be topless. Eventually, after our exercise classes, showers meant that we’d see each other nude. There still wasn’t anything overtly sexual about the situations but an undeniable sensuality began to take over our lives. It started by cuddling on the couch while watching a movie, casual touching, impromptu neck and back rubs…I don’t remember when the full-body hugs turned into mini grinding sessions, but I do remember the first time we kissed, really kissed, open mouth, tongues probing. I remember the first time, the second time, the fourth time. We were spooning on the couch one evening, it was after our workout session. We’d both taken showers. I was wearing boxers, Sara had on a pair of sheer bikini panties and a crop top that barely covered her nipples. I had an erection and was way past the point of trying to hide it from her, she’d seen enough of them during the previous six months. We were just cuddled there, the TV was off, the room was mostly dark, just we two relaxed and comfy. I was on the verge of dozing off when Sara said, “This is nice, isn’t it, Steven?” “Yeah, it’s really nice.” “It’s almost like we’re a couple, isn’t it?” “How’s that?”, I asked. “Well, I mean, you work and all and I take care of the house and cook and clean. It’s like we’re married, or something.” “I guess when you put it like that, yeah, it’s kinda like we’re married.” “Have you ever thought about what it would be like if we were really a couple?” “What do you mean?” “Do you remember when we were younger, how we played doctor and stuff?” “Yeah.” “What about if we did that now, only for real?” At that, Sara turned over on the couch and faced me, out bodies pressed tightly together on the small space, our legs intertwined. She smelled so good; our faces close together. She kissed me, slipping her tongue into my mouth. I responded the same as our hands began rubbing over each other’s bodies, going too far for siblings, but not too far, not yet. After an endless time, we broke the kiss, pulled back slightly. Our eyes locked; she had a pleading, vulnerable expression on her face. I said, “Would it be weird if we went all the way?” She leaned in and kissed me again, then reached down and caressed my erection through my underwear. “Does that feel weird?”, she asked. I reached up under her top, squeezed her right breast and pinched her nipple. Her gasp of pleasure was all the permission I needed. “No, baby, it doesn’t feel weird, at all. Let’s go to bed.” She rolled off the couch and stood up, I followed her. I took her hand and led her into my bedroom. At the foot of my bed, we embraced, kissed, and worked our clothes off. We’d seen each other naked, before, but something about this moment made it different. She stroked my cock, fondled my balls, kissed me and told me it was bigger than she’d remembered. My hand was busy between her legs, rubbing and fingering her shaved pussy, so wet and slick. We were on my bed before I knew it, our bodies pressed together, kissing deeply and passionately, our hands exploring each other’s bodies. As we moved together, I ended up on top of my sister, wet humping her. She spread her legs and drew her knees up, reaching down between us, she grabbed my cock and guided it into her pussy. The moment my cock head penetrated her, I thrust hard into her, pushing my cock deep into my sister’s wet, welcoming cunt. She let out a long, moaning sigh that matched my “fuuucckkkk” as I buried it deep inside her. There was an electric sensation, a tingling between us, a feeling that was so good, so very fucking awesome but also so wrong, so very wrong. After three or four thrusts, I paused, looked her in the eye and said, “This is wrong, isn’t it?” She didn’t say anything, just kind of gave me a small nod. “Should I stop? I mean, it feels good, but it also feels wrong, right?” She wrapped her legs around my waist and locked her ankles together and said, “I don’t’ know if it’s right or wrong but it doesn’t feel weird and it feels really good and I’m so goddamn horny, so please, big brother of mine, just fuck me hard!” So I fucked her. I fucked my little sister hard, I rammed my cock as far into her cunt as I could, we rocked and rolled and I made her cum three times before I lost it, I felt the pressure building in my balls and my abdomen, felt my cock swelling, then I let loose inside my little sister, I came inside her harder than any orgasm I’d ever had, I counted seven major ejaculations and I don’t know how many more dry ones while I continued pounding her pussy, she fingering her clit while my cock jackhammered inside her, the scent of our sex in the room, sweat, cum, pussy juice, our breath in each other’s ears, whispered promises….I lost track of time. I was laying on my back, Sara was on her side, her crotch slowly grinding against my hip bone as she fondled my cock. I felt her cum, grinding against me, and she moaned, this low, slow expression of orgasmic pleasure. I chubbed up, and said “You like that, huh?” “Yeah. I like it a lot…. you know you came inside me?” “That’s an understatement!”, I chuckled. “My cock felt like a firehose spraying semen all over the place!” “I’m not on birth control.” I was fully erect by then, so I rolled her onto her side, pulled her leg up over my hip, and slid my cock inside her. She backed up right onto it and we began grinding my dick all up inside her tight cunt. I whispered into her ear, “That’s Okay, baby, after you move your stuff into my bedroom, we’ll turn the spare room into a nursery for our babies.” She gave a startled reaction, her body jerked back against mine and her pussy contracted around my cock. “Really,” she asked. “Are you serious?” “Well, sure. Married couples share a bedroom, right?” “That’s not what I meant! Besides, siblings can’t get married!” “No, not officially, but we can live like we are…. if you want to. She wanted to, and we do.

I'm a middle-aged gay man, been married, divorced, four kids, came out in life very late, like 4 years ago, to my family. I suppressed my true nature for a long time while leading a double life of hookups and one-night stands. From my discussions with other gay men my age, my life history is pretty common. Anyway, I'm not looking for pity or commentary on all that, it's water under the bridge. I need advice. Following an amicable divorce and finally being on my own, I jumped right in to the gay "lifestyle". I'm a bottom so you can imagine what that means. I said and did everything I could to get fucked. I was on every gay hookup site including CL (RIP) every single day trying to get guys to fuck me. I was totally indiscriminate. There's a downward spiral here that's kind of hard to describe but basically I promised to do anything, be anything, and submit to anything as long as I could get fucked. This was all bareback, of course (I still do). During that time, I developed an HIV fetish, haven't been able to shake it but so far I have managed to keep it as a fantasy. I met a lot of guys into a lot of things and submitted to all of them. Some of it I enjoyed, some of it I'm ashamed of, but there it is. The problem is, and the reason that I'm asking for advice, is that I did meet a handful of nice guys during that time. One of them is on this site, I know his username but he won't recognize mine because I've burned through dozens over the years on as many sites, trying to hook up and present myself as being receptive to whatever scene or fetish other guys were into. I'm more stable now, I have a better grip on what I want in a relationship, in FWB, in casual sex, or whatever. I don't need to pretend to what I'm not and I'd really like to get together with some of those guys I felt comfortable with but I'm not sure how to do it. I ghosted each of them over a period of time because I was spiraling downward and didn't think they'd be into all the things I thought I'd be into. Should I try to contact any of them?

Hit me up when you get here.

Sorry for the typos.

I dont have a foot fetish but I was a sex party in a hotel room where one of the guys had a huge foot fetish. I was laying on the bed getting a blowjob and eating this other sudea was. My feet were hanging off the end of the bed (I'm prwrty tall). Next thing I know my feet were being massaged, kissed, licked, dude was sucking my toes. It was AMAZEBALLS! One of the most intense and deeply satisfying orgasms ive ever had.

is Club Philly open during Covid?

Hi, just your average, middle-age slutty bottom looking for any scene that results in one or more raw loads up my ass. Central Maryland and the DMV for the win!