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Showing results for tags 'sex'.
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How many things have you ticked off the list? Just something for a bit of fun... add up the scores... (1) Given/Received Blow Job (1) Fucked A Hole (1) Been Fucked (1) Kissed A Guy (1) Given a Handjob (1) Watched Porn (1) J/O With Others Watching (1) Watched a Guy J/O (1) Tasted Your Own Cum (1) Own a Jockstrap (2) Autofellatio/Self Suck (2) Used Craigslist to Hook Up with Stranger (2) J/O in a Public Place (Semi-Private E.G Bathroom Stall etc) (2) J/O in a Public Place (E.G in a Park/Field/Airport/Office etc) (2) Rimmed a Hole (2) Licked Armpits (2) Pissed on a Guy (2) Been Pissed On (2) Swallowed Small Amount of Piss/Urine (2) Tasted/Spit Out Piss (2) Had a Piss Enema (2) Been a Bondage Top (2) Had An Outdoor Fuck (2) Fucked Inside Car/Truck (2) Swallowed Spit (2) Used a Gloryhole (2) Been Gagged (2) Used a Dildo/Vibrator (2) Wrestled (2) Used a Penis Pump (2) Roleplayed (2) Had Sex with a Bi Guy (2) Had a Threesome (2) Used Hoods/Masks (2) Voyeur/Spied on Guys Having Sex (2) Been Face Fucked (2) Been Hot Wax Tortured (2) Been Shaved (2) Swallowed a Guys Cum (2) Smoked During Sex (2) Had Sex at the Gym (2) Swallowed Your Own Cum (2) Licked or Had Your Feet Licked (2) Used Another Guys Cum as Lube (2) Had Interracial Sex (2) Sploshed (2) Gone Commando at Work (3) Fucked Whilst Wearing Fetish Gear (3) Been Caught Having Sex (3) Had Sex with a Married Guy (3) Had an Orgy/Group Session (3) Pissed into a Beer Bottle & Given to Another Guy to Drink in a Bar/Club (3) Had an Anonymous Fuck (3) Been Fucked with Head in the Toilet (3) Fucked in a Public Restroom (3) Fucked in a Library (3) Dirty Talked (3) Hooked Up with a Trucker/Cowboy (3) Been Bound/Restrained (3) Spanked/Been Spanked (3) Been to a Bathhouse (3) Been to a Sex/Cruising Club (3) Been Fucked in a Sling (3) Fucked a Bottom so Hard He Can Hardly Walk/Cried (3) Been Fucked by 11"+ Cock (3) Used a 10"+ Dildo (3) Worn a Leather Harness (3) Used/Own Leather/PVC Clothing (3) Cum Kissed (3) Been in/Part of a Circle Jerk/Bukkake (3) Fucked a Neighbour (3) Fisted a Hole (3) Purposely Contracted an STD (Ghonno/Syphilis etc) (3) Been E-Stim/Electro Tortured (3) Watched Animal Porn (3) Had Really Aggressive/Rough Sex (3) Had Sex with Someone 20 Years Older/Younger (3) Had Sex with Someone 40+ Years Older/Younger (3) Forced a Guy To Do Something (5) Eaten Cum From a Used Condom (5) Lost Your Virginity Under 18 Years of Age (5) Made an Amateur Sex Tape (5) Felched a Hole (5) Been Fisted (5) Slammed Tina (5) Tongue Cleaned A Hole (5) Fucked a Married Guy (5) Fucked a Married Guy in a Family Bed (5) Sucked/Been Sucked on Train/Boat/Bus (5) Used a Fuck Machine (5) Been a Slave/Owned (5) Had Chem Sex (5) Fucked a Bottom into Submission (5) Used an Escort (5) Been an Escort (5) Own a Sling (5) Traveled a Long Distance to Fuck (5) Actively Chased HIV & converted (5) Been Gangbanged (5) Been/Fucked a Pornstar (5) Fucked a couple (5) Been Double Penetrated (5) Had Over 100+ Sexual partners (5) Used Sex to Get Something (Upgrade/Product/Job/Clothing/'Get out of Jail' type situation etc) (5) Been Exposed/Humilated By An Alpha Male (Been Photographed/Videoed/In Public) (5) Used a Sub For Your Pleasure (5) Have/Had a House Boy (5) Used a Chastity Cage (5) Own a Fuck Machine (5) Raped a Hole (5) Used a Cruel Condom (5) Been Fucked By a Cruel Condom (5) Fed a Guy Your Shit (5) Are An Alpha Dom Male (5) Take Any & All Loads - No Questions Asked (5) Fuck Any Hole (5) Had Sex at Inappropriate Time/Event/Location (E.G Funeral/Wake/HIV Clinic/Memorial etc) (5) Had Sex with a Friend's BF / Partner (5) Had Sex with Someone Who's Cheated on Their Boyfriend (10) Have a 10+ Cock (10) Fucked Twins (10) Had Sex with a Father & Son (Not related to you) (10) Fucked a Family Member (10) Have own Playroom/Dungeon (10) Made Hidden Camera Sex Tape (10) Fucked/Been Fucked By K9/Dog (10) Had Sex with AIDs Guy (Advanced/Wasted Look) (10) Swallowed K9/Horse Cum (10) Eaten Shit (10) Licked A Public Urinal/Toilet (10) Fucked on a Plane (10) Swallowed Large Amount of Piss/Urine (10) Starred in a Porn Film (Mainstream) (10) Been/Fucked By a Celebrity (10) Hooked Up Whilst in Uniform or with a Uniformed Guy (Cop/Firefighter/Doctor/UPS Guy etc) (10) Hooked Up With Homeless Guy (10) Own Other Fetish Furniture (Cage/Stocks/St Andrew's Cross/Rim Seat etc) (10) Had Sex with a Convict / Prisoner
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Hi live in Blackpool but often in York and Scarborough so looking in all 3 areas. Into being fucked indoor n outdoor, sucked, rimmed, piss on n in ass. Bareback, raw and safe. Hugs, kissing, spit, snowballing, Docking, trackies and sports gear, being sucked, chastity, chavs n scally, spunk, but open to new stuff just ask.
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I woke up to the warm, sticky sensation of his cum slowly leaking out of my asshole. The tang of it reminded me of the sweet, earthy flavor of freshly turned soil after spring rain. My body was sore and achy in the best possible way as if I had just gone for a run in the nude through a field of wildflowers. I smiled to myself, savoring the memories of the night before. It all started when I was out at the bar with some friends. I had been eyeing him across the room for a while, admiring his tall, broad frame and the way he moved. He was wearing a tight white T-shirt that hugged his muscular chest and showed off his defined abs, and a pair of worn-in jeans that fit his long, muscular legs like a glove. Something about him exuded an air of confidence and dominance that made me feel weak in the knees. As the night wore on, I summoned the courage to approach him. We struck up a conversation, and it turned out we had a lot in common. He told me he was an artist, and I was instantly drawn to his passion and creativity. Before I knew it, we were leaving the bar together, him leading me by the hand through the bustling streets. He lived in a modest, but cozy apartment just a few blocks away, and as we walked inside, I couldn't help but notice the way his dong swayed gently beneath his jeans. It was long and thick, and I found myself growing increasingly aroused by the sight of it. He offered me a drink, and we sat down on his comfortable, worn-in couch. As we talked, my eyes drifted down to his lap, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I couldn't take my eyes off of his dick, and before long, my pants had grown uncomfortably tight. It was then that he must have sensed my desire because he leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Do you want to see something special?" I nodded eagerly, my heart racing with anticipation
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Chubby Hole For A Top Clarkdale Arizona
PlanetJunk posted a topic in United States: Other: Southwest
Hey there thought I would reach out and just say hello and introduce myself. I don't know if anyone would be interested in having some fun with someone like myself sometime. I am a gay bottom I enjoy pleasing you I don't need any reciprocation. Get my satisfaction with you getting off. I can host as well. just looking for a good top and a good time. I'm pretty easy going and submissive with the right guy. On a personal note I can't drive due to an accident I was in. I use a walker mainly to get around or a wheelchair. I enjoy being a hole to be used. Group or 1 on 1. No dick is refused. I am in the Clarkdale Arizona area.
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Looking through the posts on this site and some of the shit you fags do makes me wonder why most women aren't the same (or more sluttier)..... they're literally designed to take d 🤔
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Does anyone here use cruel condoms?
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My name is Tyler. I'm am a 20 year old gay college kid. Since I don't have a lot of money, I'm home for the summer in Texas. Not only do I not have to pay rent, but my uncle runs a construction business and as a favor to my dad, he's letting me work there to earn some cash. The problem is, I'm not exactly that useful on a construction site. I'm skinny and can barely lift a hammer. It's also hot as hell and I can't stand to be outside very long at a time. I don't exactly look the part of a construction worker either. I'm short, dirty blonde hair, diamond studs in my ears, and two chains around my neck. My clothes are tight and leave little to the imagination. But since my uncle promised me a job, he finds something for me to do: support the workers. You see, he hires a lot of these big, strong Mexican guys to come over the border for a few months. He says they're the best workers and they never complain about the heat. He pays them well and they stay in motels while the construction projects are going on. My uncle told me that my job is to help these guys out. If they ask for something, I give it to them. This is a challenge because many of them don't speak English, but we find ways to communicate for things like food, water, etc. While the job is going okay, it's not that exciting. I spend a lot of my time in the air conditioned trailer while these guys work their asses off in the summer Texas heat. After a couple of weeks, it seems like the guys are starting to get depressed. They are still working hard but something is wrong. My uncle notices too and instructs me to fix the problem. After all, keeping them happy is my job. I notice Luis, one of the guys who speaks English decently, sitting alone in the trailer on a break. So I join him and start a conversation. It takes some prying, but I get him to admit what is bothering the guys: they are lonely. They're here working long days and not seeing their girlfriends and wives. But missing their faces isn't the real issue. When I suggest FaceTiming their women every day, Luis says that wouldn't solve the problem. Bottom line: these men are horny. They haven't had any sex since crossing the border, unless you count their hands. Hmm. This challenge will be harder than finding them food and drinks. What am I supposed to do? Hire some hookers? That would be expensive and illegal. If only they were gay, I'd help them out myself. I have a thing for the strong masculine type. I text my college friend Hector about the problem. He's gay like me but also Hispanic. After beating around the bush, he comes out and says it: I should let them use me. Hector knows I'm always horny for cock, so why not? Hector tells me something I didn't know: in Mexican culture, it's not considered gay to fuck or be sucked by a man. Only the man taking the cock is considered gay. Luis is still breaking alone in the trailer. It's time to test what Hector told me. I get down on my knees and climb under the table Luis is sitting at. He hasn't noticed because he is scrolling through his phone. He nearly jumps out of his seat when my hands begin to massage his crotch. He quickly looks down and smiles with approval. It takes mere seconds for his cock to grow rock hard. I am afraid his jeans are going to burst open. I gently unbutton and unzip his jeans. I am shocked when his massive meat springs out. No underwear! I put my face near his crotch and soak it all in. His cock is big and thick, attached to two meaty balls that are surely full of cum. He smells like a combination of testosterone and sweat. Luis' hands reach under the table. One grabs his meat and the other pushes the back of my head toward it. I know what to do. Since he only has a few minutes left in his break, there is no time to waste. I put my mouth around his cock head and begin sucking him down, inch by inch. He moans and says some things under his breath. I can't make it all out, but I hear "white whore" at some point. I bob my head up and down as his breathing and moaning pick up. He pushes my head all the way down on his cock. Then he lets out a roar as his cum begins splashing the back of my throat. I swallow every drop and continued to suck him until he goes soft and removes his hand from my head. He fastens his jeans, stands up, nods, and heads out the door. I smile and climb back to my feet.
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Does anyone else get turned off by condoms in porn? I’m sure this has been discussed before but it’s just such a turn off for me. I can be hard at and about to nut and all of a sudden I see a condom and I go limp. It’s an automatic turn off for me. Anyone else have the same opinion?
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When I top I think things like "damn, I'd love to eat your loaded pussy and breed it again" and "fuck, I wish my bf were a whore like you." When I bottom I think "damn, this feels so good - I cant believe I get to soak up his nut too!" Just curious to know what other men think about during actual penetrative, breeding sex situations. Cheers to good fucking!
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So I 44m he is a 20yo South American boy who I have dating for about a month now after chatting online for a year. Over the past year he has told me how he loves seeing my slam videos online and how sexy I was. I asked him a few times if he partied like that , his response was a stern “NO” but he didn’t mind that I did. In my head I thought to myself “. If I can get him to hang just one night , I will get him slamming and loving it . So finally after a year of begging to go on a date he finally messaged me and asked me on a date. We made plans for that Friday for me to come to his place and we order in and watch a movie and just chill. Friday finally came and as I was packing a bag a of course packed all my pointing supplies , hehe, in hopes I would get to convert him . When I got to his place I was so nervous I could barely even speak especially since he came to the door wearing just a jockstrap. I was in awww as a gazed over his young furry (in all the right places ) muscular frat type body and huge package . His reply was “I knew you had a jockstrap fetish so I wore this for you “. He then made me strip down to my jockstrap then brought me in to his living room, while he went to the kitchen to grab drinks . I sat on the couch waiting for him to come back with our drinks. He sits next to me and we immediately start talking about Tina , mainly him asking tons of questions and me answering til about the 10th one and was like “how about I just show you “. He got really shy and quick change the topic “so tell me about your ex’s” he said , I told him how my past bf’s we were in open relationships, we loved having our cake and eating it to . (Him being so young ,20 , of course didn’t understand that saying). So I just continued explaining my history. I especially loved hearing about their hookups , turned me on knowing they were out slamming with other guys and getting fucked by the entire city . My friends would text me pics of my bf getting fucked by them or getting fucked at the party they were both at . He stated he has never been in an open relationship, but it sounds fun and is very interested. Earlier in the evening I asked him if he wanted to slam , he says to me , he definitely wants to try tina just not tonight as he is fumbling with his jockstrap,trying to hide a massive boner . (The kid is 5”10 170lbs with a 10x8 massive uncut cock ). Ha by the looks of it something wants it now. He tells me that on Saturday mornings he takes care of his 80yo uncle , his uncle counts on him so much . I was like well that’s just an amazing act of goodness(definitely scored some points there ), It was getting late so I decided to call it night just go home then and try another time. But then as we were hugging he made the first move by sucking on my neck and before u knew I had him bent over the back of the sofa and was eating his hot 24yo hairy ass and him begging for my Cock. We fucked for a couple hours til we both shot our loads all over each other just as his roomate was coming in the front door. Which was fucking so hot! We ended up falling asleep naked on his deep oversized couch. I wake next morning to his roomate on the other end of the couch jerking his 20 something huge cock , (kids these days all have monster dicks). So of course I crawl over between his legs and just start deep throating the fuck out of this kids Dick , He cums in a matter of seconds , shoots ropes upon ropes of cum down my throat , so much that I couldn’t even swallow anymore , and as I pull away from his cock it’s still shooting all over the couch between his legs and i swear it kept using cum for 15 min . It was the hottest thing ever . He says “you should see this cum shot when he fucks my boys ass”. He finally wakes up an hour later , and the three of us fucked before I had to leave for work at 11. As I was leaving I told the boy that I get off at 7 so let’s hangout again. He said of course but had a shitty grin on his face as I walked away. I didn’t think much of him since he said he was going to help be helping his uncle til around 5pm when I hadn’t heard from him all afternoon even after texting him a couple times. 7pm rolls around and I am heading home , I decide to call him to see if we are still on for tonight, he answers but his voice sounds really different, now it’s a change of voice pitch that I am very familiar with since I am a slammer and I could here porn playing in the background. I was like hey what’s going on where are u ? He replied “I did it babe , Please don’t be mad “ Did what I replied “I slammed babe , “. I was instantly rock hard and told him “ fuck no I am not mad, it’s fuckn hot babe , and so hot that ur fucking honest “. He tells me that he was so turned on by our conversation last night that he met up with a 78yo muscle daddy that begged him to let him slam him for the first time. My boy told the man that he has a Bf ( which I thought was so fuckn hot ). And that the guy didn’t care and told my boy that I could join later . My boy knowing that it turns me on hearing my bf hooking up he ran with it. When I called they were getting ready to slam for third time , i asked for them to wait and the old man said no but he can watch via FaceTime . So I immediately FaceTime call my boy , only to see him naked hard as a rock in a sling and twacked the fuck out and here comes this hot old guy with a huge thick cock and syringe with a hefty amount of fluid in it. When I asked the size , the daddy replies .8 . I was like fuckkkkkk that’s so hot. I watched him stick the needle in my boys arm and then just rams the plunger down pushing all that meth it into my boys body.. My boy jolts up starts coughing and talking tweaker talk as his blasts off to another dimension, he’s coughing he’s thrashing around telling the daddy to fuck him , fist him , use him repeatedly over and over again and telling me to get over there now so I can fuck him up more. I got home ,stripped out of my clothes , and was sitting naked on the couch watching this video old man use and abuse my boy when my roommate walks out of his room into mine with needles in hand, hands me one and we slam up. I show him my boy in action, he says let go fuck him up with that guy . It was so hot hearing my friend wanting to do that with my bf . So we got dressed and went over to the guys house. A different guy answered the door and let us in , he was naked and rock hard and sweating profusely, he guided us back to the man cave where I met the old man and find my boy in a sling with three daddies around him. I went over and kissed him as well as praising him for doing this today . He smiled at me and begged me to slam him , I turned around and the old man had the slams already for me. They again were .8 and it was less than two hours since he last was slammed, I was hesitant at first til the old man ordered me to slam my boy again . So I did , and watched him go into total whore pig ecstasy. I fuckn loved it , watching him get plowed while I laid on the bed so the old man could slam me up and have his way me. Omg that .8 was amazing. We fucked and slammed two more times til morning everyone had left and the old man was past out on the couch . So we laid there in the old man’s bed tweaking out like crazy , he still rock hard with cum oozing out of his hole. I kept eating from my fingers . He kept telling me how this was the best night of his life and can’t wait to do it again. I was like fuck yeah we definitely will my little Chem whore. Stay horned for part 2
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Continuation of my bedroom pozbang story. This is fiction. After the wild night of having poz loads pumped into me, I was sleeping, sandwiched between my two black daddy bear lovers. I had a big butt plug in to keep all of the poz loads in and prevent them from leaking out. I was lightly awoken from my slumber when Robert whispered in my ear, "your surprise is here... they are here for your final neg loads." The doorbell rang and Robert and Bill got up and answered it. I looked at the clock. 9 am. My head was still spinning from all the cum and hands-free orgasms from the poz gangbang the previous night. Bill walked back into the master bedroom and pulled out a red cock ring. He stretched the silicone ring around the base of my cock. I could feel my cock beginning to swell and harden immediately. Bill also gave me some viagra as well and I was soon rock hard. Bill motioned for me stand with my legs spread wide in a power stance and display my hard cock for the guests to see. Bill also put a blindfold over my eyes to ensure the surprise. Bill left the room to bring Robert and the guests to the master bedroom as I stood there with my 7" cut cock jutting out like a flagpole. Robert and Bill returned with the guests and the two black men walked over to me and took off the blindfold. "Enjoy your final neg loads," Robert said to me as he and Bill walked out of the bedroom, leaving me with the guests. I was staring at four naked and stunning women. The first was a short, muscular Asian woman, who had to be in mid-thirties. Beautiful golden, tanned skin. Long, flowing black hair. Visible washboard abs, veins popping out on her biceps and triceps. Thick bodybuilder thighs, a large and engorged clit, a trimmed bush, and big fake tits, probably at least D-cups. Next to her was a tall white woman, built like a milf. Beautiful, tanned skin, a nice landing strip, legs that went on for days, large, all-natural c-cup tits. On her right was a big and beautiful, light brown skinned Indian woman. She was a curvaceous bbw with a thick ass and thighs with matching brood mother hips. Her breasts sagged, but were all natural and massive, at least F-cups. The final woman was a thick and curvy black woman. Big tits, big ass, thick thighs, the complete package. Each woman had biohazard and scorpion tattoos in various spots on their bodies. "So I heard from Bill and Robert you have some final neg loads to unload. Well, all four of us are poz and we want your last neg loads," the white woman said to me. "It's also each of our times of the month and we are all super fertile and even more horny. Make us pregnant," the black woman responded. "Yes, impregnate us in more ways than one. Give us your babies," the Indian woman said. The Asian female bodybuilder didn't say anything. She picked me up and threw me on the bed. My sore and plugged ass bounced as the Asian woman jumped on my cock. I watched and moaned as she effortlessly guided my cock into her soaking and hairy snatch. At first, she started grinding rhythmically, but then she started grinding me hard and passionate. It was as if she was trying to fuck me through the bed. The white milf climbed up and guided her trimmed pussy onto my awaiting mouth, while the other two women found fingers on both of my hands. I was drowning in the milf's cum as I lapped at her clit and her pussy. I could feel the other two women's pussies leaking on my hands. I could feel that the Asian bodybuilder grinding and riding me had cum twice in ten minutes. Her engorged clit looked like a small micropenis. I was getting close. The Asian woman moaned loud as I filled her hairy cunt with my neg load. I counted at least twenty spurts of cum inside her. "Me next," the milf responded as she laid on her back. I stood up, my cock still rock hard from the Viagra and cock ring. I laid on top of her in missionary and started thrusting inside her trimmed, wet snatch. As I was fucking the white milf, I could feel a sudden emptiness in my ass. The bodybuilder ripped the large plug from my ass. Suddenly, my ass was no longer empty. The bodybuilder plunged a 12" black strapless dildo into my ass and started fucking me like I was just some slut off the street. The sensation on my battered prostate caused me to explode inside the milf. It was a huge load, as I must have kept cumming for what seemed like a minute. The Asian bodybuilder didn't stop fucking my ass, even as the black bbw laid down in front of my cock and guided me in. By "guided" it was more or less shoved in, as the force from being fucked from behind pushed me into her cunt. We both cried out in pleasure as this mini fuck train was going at full steam. I got my thrusts into a rhythm and synced the timing of the bodybuilder's thrusts into me. As I fucked the black bbw, she wrapped her thick legs around me, which in turn caused me to go further into her cunt. "That's right, fuck my cunt. Suck on my tits, bitch!" she ordered me. I obeyed, sucking on her left tit. Twenty minutes into this session, the black bbw came three times and I blew my load twice. She wanted one final load from me, and she got it. The bodybuilder took off the strapless dildo, turned on the vibrator in it, and shoved it deep into my abused ass. I pumped a third and final load deep into the black bbw's greedy cunt. I was moaning like whore as we shared a make out session. My cock, still hard, slipped out of her cum filled cunt. I was tired and panting. Sweat and cum stained my body. The first three women left, leaving the Indian woman behind. I was expecting her to me rough, but she wasn't. She gently removed the dildo from my ass and gingerly inserted the butt plug back into my sore ass. "Let your Indian auntie make you feel amazing, babe." she told me as we made out. Our tongues danced with each other and in and out of each other's mouths. As we embraced in a hug, she slowly grinded against my cock. She laid down prone on the bed and I guided myself down towards her bottom, my cock finally resting at the entrance of her hairy pussy. She slowly backed up her thick ass and enveloped my cock in her dripping cunt. We made love. It wasn't brutal sex like the other three women, she made love to my cock and myself. It was rhythmic and passionate. Both of us came twice as we built up for a third one. I gently rolled her onto her back and fucked her passionately, making out and sucking her tits. As her hairy pussy clamped down in orgasm on my cock, I had one final explosive orgasm. She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me into her. We held that embrace for what seemed like an eternity as Bill and Robert walked back into the room. The woman kissed me on last time and wrote down her number for me. A week later, I had the most flu/sickness of my life. I went to my doctor and got tested. I was officially poz. Four weeks after that, all four of the women texted me pictures of their growing baby bumps.
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Hey men, Fully vers poz dude in the st Paul MN area seeking to host cocks to serve and or holes to breed now thru Wednesday. Pnp ok, 42 yo very uninhibited bearish dude here. Will mindlessly suck, fuck and or take your seed.
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so will be cool to anyone for post to what their last load was ...that will be so hot! if u need some help to unload,here you go 😉 [think before following links] https://es.xhamster.com/users/sexyylegsss
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I was just wondering if there's an actor/musician/athlete you would LOVE to have sex with, that whenever you see him on TV you just can't stop drooling over him. I would give ANYTHING to have this guys fucking my Latin boipussy Shemar Moore [invalid URL] and Idris Elba -
ready to be used aand abused, be as rough and pery as you like
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I don't travel to get bars much but I would like to experience it more. Does anyone have any tips or suggestions for a bottom pig whore. I'm unsure what to expect seeing how the bar in thinking of going to has a glory hole, back room fun, and bathroom fun. I'm into a lot so I'm open to WS, breeding of course, and lots more so if anyone has any tips or anything HMU please
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hello guys, I was wandering about that decision you ever took to have raw, unprotected natural bareback sex. What or who was it that makes you go for that option? Some boyfriend, some happening? Has it become your usual way to have sex for all occasions or only under certain circumstances? -
by Steve Berman Sberman8@yahoo.com Let's start with the truth: I was following him. There, now I can set the tone. Not that I usually stalked people, but he was different. Struck me hard and fast, like an accident, only the feeling was welcome. So I waited outside the shop, peering into the windows as if browsing from the street. I was more than a little surprised that he was making a purchase. Not the sort of person to frequent a gallery, especially not the sort of gallery that this was. Were weird masks crafted from tooled leather and animal bones along with crepe and burlap wings his taste? That thought almost made me walk away and leave the stare of that something--once a raccoon or perhaps a possum--perched atop a calfskin helm in the display that was accusing me through empty sockets. Yet I was held fast, watching as he purchased a mask, a wide piece with fluted edges and scrollwork around the lips. When he left the store, not even pausing to offer me a glance, I stood by, breathing in his smell. One more inhale and a minute's passing happened before I followed him. I was not aiming for capture, but merely the thrill of the hunt. I could let my eyes follow the length of his young frame, supposedly with little risk. He led me to Jackson Square; on this weekend, it was full of both tourists and regulars, the artists displaying their paintings and caricatures along the wrought iron fence binding the park. In my two years of living in the Crescent City, I had never seen anyone walk that park. A snack at L'Madeline's seemed his goal. I sat down outside on a metal bench and waited. Resting and inert, I felt little like a predator. Embarrassment for acting in such outlandish fashion crept over me. I had kept my secret too well, preventing any overt betrayals even if I wanted them to be shown. So if I ever was attracted to another guy, desire was kept locked away tight behind my eyes. But this one made me act, even to this little degree, for approaching him was still out of the question. I had caught him on a side street to Royal, standing there watching with a host of others at a one-man band playing in the middle of the street. How could you not be taken by him? With his slim physique and wild black hair that so contrasted with his pale skin. A night dweller that had crept out for some reason to take a glimpse of the sun and its crowd. His clothing was worn, jeans almost tattered to shreds. He was definitely not one of the university crowd I normally hung out with, and did not have the brashness of a local. What he did have was quiet and furtive eyes that I thought would never find me. "Dance," I whispered, "you were surely meant to dance," but only his foot moved in time with the music. He left the cafe to walk down the alleys that led back to Bourbon Street, an infamous thoroughfare of the Quarter, which was truthfully a disappointment during the day. Those walkways had the rare person traveling besides us, but still I followed, my mind often urging me to turn away, but never quite vehement enough for the rest of me to listen. Yet, I wondered why he did not turn around and confront me, as my footfalls were neither quiet nor calm. Perhaps he simply chose to ignore my existence. The thought did not have much appeal to me, but I was saved when he left the known parts of Bourbon. He passed the Line. All newcomers to the Quarter hear of the Line if they spend any time downtown. Eventually the tourist trappings fall aside, the restaurants fade back, and you are only left with gloomy looking buildings. Most are bars of some ill repute squatting down, ready to gorge themselves on sodden customers. I had learned from the classmates I occasionally socialized with that beyond the almost visible line were places a normal guy, a straight decent fellow, just shouldn't go. Gay bars, rough spots, leather dens, areas where your ass either got shoveled or kicked in. And though the warnings were tabu entreaties, I had never before had the courage, or that much inclination, to cross. I watched him go with a sigh of regret. He never looked back, and neither did I. The walk back to the streetcar stop seemed so bland in comparison. Somewhere, I heard that New Orleans has two different patron gods, each presiding over not different parts of the city but rather the times. During the day, it is the sly Mercantile, the one who stands grinning behind the counter. He may be met as a sophisticate selling artwork or antiques, or be the street dealer with lewd T-shirts and garish Mardi Gras posters. But he will try to sell you something, anything, ‘name your price littl' lady.’ But at night, well, New Orleans becomes the domain of the Truck Driver, an avatar cruel and crude, laughing while he spills his beer on your sleeve, promising to show you sights never seen before, but all guaranteed to arouse. His language is blunt and to the point. The Mercantile wants your business, thrives on it; the Truck Driver couldn't care less, because he knows you have come to watch and don't feel like going home early. Or hungry. And since I like to think of myself somewhat sophisticated if not downright neurotic, I often avoided offering myself to the Truck Driver. At night most of the French Quarter is alive and crawling down Canal and Bourbon streets, with the other streets asleep except for the rare insomniac. Normally I am of little mood for crowds of drunken folk, seeking only to lose myself in a book back at the dorm. But one night late this past semester I sought refuge in their madness; for three weeks, I had been barraged with papers and tests, and the notion of just once losing my identity seemed like the perfect medicine. Come morning, should I regret something, well, that was a New Orleans tradition, too. I had come down on the streetcar with friends, letting them act as faulty guides and chaperons. With my hurricane clutched firm, and my college sweatshirt on as a warning label to the locals, I was ready to drink in deep that night. All was fine, even the two hours spent in the strip joint. I enjoyed the rank smell of sweat and smoke more than the dancers, who seemed all too eager to leave the stage; their social security checks must have been waiting for them in the back. But I was a consummate actor, in part thanks to the no-cover-charge-but-necessary-three-drink-minimum rule, and my friends never saw my disinterest in flouncing breasts. Outside the club, I took a moment to clear my head of vapors. The brick walls here are great for this purpose; one can lean against them and feel the world coming back into focus. Perhaps I should suggest that a bit of powdered brick added to chicory coffee might serve as a hangover remedy. My renewed perception let me spot him down the street. The clothing was so similar to what he wore the night I first saw him, that I wondered if I wasn't having some weird Dixie-beer induced flashback. But no, it was through the passing mob that my eyes were teased with him standing in front of a trader's shop, one arm casually draped around one of the cast-iron horse heads, relics from when busy folk had to tie up their steeds. I rapped my head against the wall ever so slightly, letting my friends chuckle at the display. I was trapped. To simply leave them would invite questions, none of which I could readily answer. But the desire to go to him was strong, making me think recklessly. My mind on a rampage, I muttered something up getting a refill and wandered into the crowd. I prayed they would not follow as I waded past the doomsayers, smelling rank like bad bologna stuck between their sandwich board signs. When I could no longer see my pals and my last link to school and sanity was gone, I headed directly towards him. This time his eyes were on me, casually, as I approached. I nearly lost my nerve, but to have come so close and then break away was too disheartening to contemplate. So, we met besides the black horse head with its bit of rust peeking through the bad paint job. Never having been so close to him, I was a bit surprised at his age; I would have guessed him a couple of years younger than me, but his confident pose had not a drop of inexperience. And since I did not yet have the strength to stare him straight in that delicately featured face, I found myself watching his long fingers that were idly stroking the post's huge nostrils. "Whew, its good to get out of that crowd. Felt like I was going to be swept along the street." My voice had a nervous edge to it, making me cringe slightly as I finished. He shrugged. "Nights here are like that." He had a soft voice, barely above a whisper. "Surprised to see you here, thought you were more of a day walker." The remark was received and noted; so he had known I was following him that day. "Yeah, but something brought me out tonight. You seem to blend-in here." I added. "That's not a compliment." And he flashed me a grin. "Are you waiting for anyone?" Hope was at my fingers, ready to fly off to the river if he should answer yes, that he was waiting for someone else, someone better looking, perhaps taller or bigger, without an East Coast accent that betrays seduction. "Sort of, but seeing as you're here, guess I might not have to." I was confused, but merely nodded, feeling it the right thing to do. "Umm, you want to go somewhere and get a drink and talk?" "Sure, I know a place." I followed him as we made our way along the sidewalk, avoiding the packed street to make faster time. I was so nervous that one of my school chums would catch sight of me that I kept my eyes trained on his backside, which was not altogether a bad sight. Before I knew it, the crowd had thinned out to mere stragglers. We had reached the damned Line, again. He crossed it with ease, then turned back to see my passage. Again it was too late to turn back. I wished that a shock of sorts had traveled up and down my spine as I crossed into strange territory, but it felt all too slick and painless. Seeing me step over, he again flashed me that grin that was oh-so-promising. Farther down the street, we reached a small doorway. Beyond it, the room was dark with dim splotches of light from weak bulbs hanging in the rafters. Small tables and chairs were placed haphazardly about, each covered with what look like remnants of cloth. Several people sat close together on the floor, amid pillows and covers. The bar was low, with too many bartenders milling about, fighting over the odd customer who wanted something to drink. A dim chord of music hung in the air, supplied by an unseen guitar. It was mournfully apparent that conversation, offers and promises, perhaps even deals of flesh were the draw. What was the minimum here, I had to wonder. We sat at one of the few empty tables. It was odd how such a quiet place could be so crowded; amid all the whispering, mouths barely seemed to move. I was disappointed that all sorts of couples sat down with their drinks; I had expected, had even hoped for, something more blatantly gay as a site for my initiation. The drinks were set before us; there was no choosing apparently. I took a sip from the wet glass and found it bitter but strong. My companion seemed as relaxed as ever, just content to stare at me it seemed, yet ,as I was to learn, the demeanor I saw was actually a carefully constructed wall. In a subdued voice, I was forced to start the conversation. "My name's Preston." I felt that offering my hand would seem childish and utterly inappropriate for what I was hoping would happen that night. He was more than a moment in responding. "Brandon." My hand shook a little, but as I cast my eyes about the room to avoid dwelling upon it, I replied. "An interesting place. Never saw anything like it before. Almost Bohemian." With a slight smirk, he said. "A lot of the hustlers take the johns here to settle terms before going farther, and then there are a number of places nearby to go. Haitian cabbies drift about like checkered sharks in case it’s a hotel job." I took a hearty gulp of the drink after that. As my throat burned, the truth crashed down, taking everything apart like a dropped puzzle. I knew that ‘innocent’ was written on my hands, but never I thought ‘naïve.’ Where to look? The table, the floor, my arms, all covered with fragments of my fantasies. Odd that he was clean. "Don't tell me you didn't know." He playfully rolled his glass between those pale hands. "You approached me, after tracking me for a long time, the other day." I was still in shock, my mouth open, no doubt. I came to when I heard "Enough of this," and he rose to leave. My arm shot forth and grabbed ahold of his hand. His skin felt cold and clammy and my first instinct was to let go and rub warmth back into my fingers. "No. Please stay. It's all right with me. Really." He sat back down, but still I could feel that more brick-and-mortar had been added to the wall that separated us. I wanted to knock it down before sharing anything with him, but realized that sitting between us was the Truck Driver, squinting and hooting, offering to pull away Brandon's shirt and to let me see a little skin before I went further. On such unfamiliar ground, with no maps or guides, all I had left was one recourse. That was to feel my way around him and hope to find some crevice that would let me travel inside. My emotions seemed overwhelmed by him, traveling the gray area between simple lust and the yearning for intimacy. In all my twenty years, neither had ever been accomplished. "What are. . . what are your rates?" "Depends on your needs." He loomed closer, reaching across the small table so that his fingers brushed against my hand that held the drink. The touch was shocking, not only from the erotic stroke that traveled my skin, but also the clammy and cold nature, as if his temperature worked on a different scale than mine. I timidly enwrapped his hand my own fingers, ignoring the cold and damp. As I spoke, the words tasted as bitter as the drink, but they had to come out. "I want . . . I want to sleep with you. To spend the night, maybe the morning." I said the words quickly and then grabbed my glass to finish off my drink. The smirk was back in full force, making his face look almost bestial. "Not just sleep. . ." he intoned. He was enjoying making me squirm with my request. Damn, I wanted the waitress to bring me another glass so that I might speak some more, but now the bar looked empty, and the guitar sounded too loud. My mouth was open but only small, guttural sounds came out. I think I was shaking, perhaps a few drops of sweat fell onto the table. I forgot that my hand was still over his until he squeezed my fingers. "No problem, I see what you need. Pay for the drinks and let's get going." My open wallet was a siren cal, two waitresses showed at the table, each eyeing the other balefully over the bill. No words were said, so I threw down a twenty and leave them fighting over the paper. As I turned, I noticed Brandon was leaning against the doorway waiting for me. Now that an arrangement had been made--though I did not recall a price even mentioned--his stance had changed. Before, his slim build seemed ready to quiver, if not twist and dance about. Each step that he made, was made with wild abandon. Now, his hips were cocked like a gun, his tread slow. He languished about, his arms spread wide at times to stroke the buildings along his side. I had a nagging hard-on for him, and stuck my hands in my pockets to help conceal my interest. He noticed immediately and began to laugh, an oddly loud sound when compared to his normal low-level of speech. We went along a maze of streets and corridors until we came to a inner courtyard, a rare sight that most folk who walk the French Quarter never see. Often, they contain old fountains or lush gardens. This one was bare except for several crates stacked like precarious towers and a metal gate set before stone steps down one wall. Brandon had one foot on a slim staircase that led to the upper floors of an adjoining building. I gave one more glance to the odd gate, since basements were rare in New Orleans due to the below-sea level nature of the city, and I was pondered where those steps led. But all Brandon had to do was to call out my name once, and my raging interest returned to what could happen atop the other flight of stairs. Once inside, I found that the upper floor was riddled with rooms. Behind closed doors I could hear sounds and moans, but couldn’t tell if all were sounds of pleasure. Subconciously, I realized now how dangerous my situation was. I had come to an area of the city with no clear way of getting home, and led by a complete stranger. For a moment, the urge to run, break away and head back to the safety of my dorm room crept over met, but before it had time to act, I had followed Brandon into one of the rooms. The room was small and cramped, containing a futon and an old chest. A Salem Witchcraft poster hung on one wall, along with a bizarre display of slate shards. A pile of stones decorated the center of the room, seeming more than haphazard and was disturbing to look at. Other than a few clothes scattered about, the rest was old carpet. Brandon shut the door behind us and leaned against the wood. I waited for a few minutes basked the moonlight that streamed in through a window and feeling somewhat at a loss for words or actions. He just stared at me with those dark eyes. Reacting to my hesitation, he walked to me, stepping so close, I could feel his cool breath on my face. "Take off my clothes." His was a demand not a request. My hands trembled as they went to his shirt. The tips of my fingers brushed against smooth, cool skin as I pulled it off. His chest was slim but toned, nearly snow-white, except for the darker rings around his nipples. All I wanted to do was caress him there, but I know that would not be following whatever rules had to exist in such situations. I knew that he had to be naked completely, so his worn jeans were next. As I unzipped them, he stepped closer to me, until our bodies were nearly touching. I pushed down the denim to expose a pair of black boxers, which showed the strain of Brandon's erection. I pushed the jeans down further, passing, with admiration, firm, muscular legs with not a wisp of hair to be seen. I helped him out of his sneakers, peeled off his socks, and then his jeans. He stood there in his underwear, the darkness of which contrasted with his skin so that it looked like his body stopped at the waist only to begin again in mid-thigh. I was entranced by the contrast; and one of my fingers had to reach out and touch his boxers just to ensure that it was indeed fabric. My hand ended up on the inner side of his leg, and I began to lazily stroke skin that was as smooth as milk. I looked up to see a half-smile on Brandon's face, and realized even as I saw it that I could accept that. I brought my own face closer until we were brushing against each other. The sensuality between us rose and I became aware that my own dick was still constrained, which reminded me that I was still fully dressed. As I stood there, one of his hands went to my neck, cupping itself underneath my chin. To my flushed skin, it was a cool compress. I sucked in my breath, feeling the blood race around his touch. Then, that hand drifted down, over my shirt and to my waist. It hesitated a moment before sliding up between the fabric and my skin. That I could feel such pleasure in his stroking my chest was astounding, I feared that I would completely collapse into a quivering mass if and when his hand went lower. I could not help but sigh and softly moan. My eyes were closed. He never said a word as his hand left me. The loss of such contact was frightening; all of a sudden I was left disoriented. I opened one eye to see that he was stretched out on the futon, one hand stroking the front of his boxers as the other did a slow wave to bring me closer. The fact that I would have to undress myself caused a wave of disappointment. I saw again how immense and intact the wall that Brandon had built, remained. For the last few minutes, I had been lost in fantasy. The fact that I was paying for a night's passion, however exquisite it may turn out to be, returned and threatened to dull my desire with self-disgust. My hands fumbled in removing my clothes. If he noticed my inner turmoil, he said nothing to ease my thoughts. Stripped bare except for my briefs, I crawled onto the futon besides him. He still wore that almost-grin. Along with adrenaline, my blood carried doubt, the whole mixture making me feel weak and lost as I laid there. Brandon leaned towards me on one elbow and with his free hand began to brush his fingers through my hair. His touch was so gentle and comforting that it felt like I had just drunk a tonic to chase away my fears. He leaned in to kiss me. His mouth was chilled, but rather than disturbing, I found the sensation delightful. Wickedly I had to wonder what it would feel like if he went down on me with that cold tongue. I held my breath for as long as I could, letting him explore. My arms went around him, almost sliding along as they made their way to his back. I gripped him close, desperate to bring him closer to me. At some point, he was atop me, rubbing his whole body against me, bringing shivers along the length of my spine. Then he rolled over, disengaging himself. Rather than speak, he guided my hand down to his crotch. The nerves along my arm readied themselves for what my touch would find. I slid his boxers down, exposing his erection. Around the base was a sparse arrangement of black hair that curved down to his scrotum. I leaned in closer to marvel at the dichotomy: it was both the softest skin and yet it felt so hard. I let myself rub along the length, now and then gliding down to cup his sack in my palm. When his hand pressed against the back of my head, inching me closer to his cock, I knew what he wanted me to do. I expected his cock to have a taste, but instead there was just a certain firmness that was still delightful. Even here, there was the coolness of Brandon's flesh, and I wanted to warm him with my breath and throat. I had no idea if I was pleasing him; he just lay there calm, looking down at me as I slipped my lips again and again over him. Finally, he lifted my face from his crotch. I moved slowly, not realizing that Brandon had managed to slide behind me and that I was now facing the mattress. Moments later I felt something sliding slowly inside of me, and then withdraw. As the movement returned again and again, I was drew heaving breaths as a tide of pleasure and discomfort ebbed and ripped through me. I could not help but collapse forward and hug the edges of the futon, and I heard him laugh in delight to my response. How long it lasted is beyond me. With a massive moan, I came into the folds of the sheets below me. Soon after, he pulled out from me, then turned me over to watch as he jerked off. His semen sprayed all over his chest and groin, and I was held enthralled by the sight. As his labored breathing eased, he dipped a finger into the streaks of cum and held it up it to my face as an offering. I hesitated, and found him pressing it closer to my shut lips. I opened and took his finger in, tasting him deeply, feeling his salty seed lay on my tongue. We then slept together. Come morning, instead of a shared kiss, he had me go down on him again. I did so without complaint. Afterwards, I gave him whatever money I had left in my wallet, leaving myself only enough change for the streetcar ride back home. He led me back through the streets until we came to a part of Bourbon I recognized. I said good-bye, he merely nodded. But I was not left alone so easily. It seemed that I spent all my time was in remembrance of that night. Perhaps I should have been disgusted, for, to some, I was merely used. But I did not feel this way. Rather my attraction to Brandon had grown beyond the physical. I wanted to meet the challenge of piercing his wall, to find and love the true teen that lurked within. Are most defrocked virgins so naive? The very next night I returned to Bourbon Street to find him. Now that I knew what sort of person I was dealing with, the hunt was easier. He greeted me with only a smirk, but this time as we entered the brothel, he held onto my hand, guiding me back to the room. For the next two weeks it continued this way. Rarely did I fail to find him, once even chasing away another potential customer, though Brandon seemed little bothered by the loss. My studies suffered as the task of college paled in comparison to the task of creating a romance with a prostitute. My newfound dedication began to pay off. Brandon must have developed some fondness for me as he began to refuse my money in the morning. When he took it, it was half-hearted born of a need. Soon he was less demanding during sex, allowing me to slow down each caress and find time to savor each taste and touch. The next step was far too easy, and I found myself staying with him each night, together roaming the streets where he would show me parts of the city few had ever seen. The wall was crumbling; I could hear bits of masonry fall as he guided me about, holding my hand during these private tours of decayed courtyards and manses. During the day we would mostly sleep, venturing out only when bored. I abandoned most of my belonging back in my dorm room, taking only the essentials. The only way to embrace him was to turn my back upon the old life and walk a new path. Sometimes I worried that Brandon did not return my true feelings. Was I only a diversion in his life, one that would last only so long before apathy returned? If so, I drowned my concerns in bitter drink and his heady presence; I would mourn that loss when it was presented to me. Now as a night dweller, I met the other boys who lived in the building. Like some secret clan, they all spoke in whispers, each I saw holding back a frenzy threatening to come unleashed. All were hustlers, though some catered to more exotic clientele. At first I found them distant towards me, like I was only a shadow amongst them. Soon, as they saw how much time Brandon and I were sharing, they began to speak to me, confide in me the events in their lives. I wanted them to let their guard down and regard me as a friend, but no, there still existed a bit of that wall between me and their breed. The story of Remus was fresh from only last semester's teachings. Then one cloud-covered night, with the threat of rain driving most from the open street, Brandon led me not to the room to spend one more night in each other's heat, but to the building's courtyard. He was quiet, the only snatches of conversation he uttered were both vague and unsettling. Something was going to happen that night, besides the thick showers that so-often patronized New Orleans. I had begun to believe that this was my last night with him, that tomorrow he would tell me to return to my old ways, to sunlight and textbooks… and loneliness. There was some measure of truth and foresight in this, as now the old ways are lost for me. The courtyard looked different when lit by fire. All the boys were standing about, many of them carrying handmade torches. I counted several faces hidden behind a variety of sordid masks. Here one crafted from broken porcelain, there a leather bondage visage complete with zippered eyebrows and lips. One of the boys brought Brandon the odd mask he bought so long ago, which he donned without a word to me. It was almost as if I could physically see his wall rearing up to prevent me from reaching him. The brickwork was far older than the flesh it contained. A deep groaning of tortured metal sounded as the iron gate was unlocked and thrust wide open, and the procession began to climb down the steps. Brandon need not have pushed me ahead of him; I wanted to go down and see perhaps the one aspect of his life that had remained hidden from me. The descent was rough on my senses. Flickering torchlight revealed only dripping stone walls decorated with patches of repellent fungus. They were all so silent, only the crackling of the fires and the sound of our feet falling upon the tiles reached my ears. The stench of musty earth was thick in the cool air. How long we walked down those steps, I could not guess, but finally, we reached bottom. My teeth were chattering against the cold, and I dreaded brushing against the stonework around me. I followed the others, but was careful to stay near Brandon. I believe we passed a few unlit chambers, all looking archaic and unsafe to venture into. Someone from the lead of the procession had begun to hum a strange tune that rose and fell in time with our footsteps. Soon other voices joined ours, and I fear to say that some of them emanated from those dark rooms. The corridor ended in a large circular chamber, and the line of masked and unmasked wound its way around a huge pit set in the floor's center. In the dim light, I could just make out the remains of mosaic tiles surrounding the hole. But if they were to decorated with words or icons, I was unfamiliar with the language. Even though it looked more like a pool of black water than a hole of depth, I could hear wind whistling up from the mouth of the hole,. A voice close to me ripped the silence. "Ia Nyogtha! Erikthnar l'hor kadishtu . . . Ia Nyogtha! Ygnaiih Nyogtha k'yarnak!" I was horrified to see Brandon's mouth move beneath the mask, those lips that I had spent so much time touching with every part of my being, now twisted to spit out such obscene sounding words. His voice was no longer a whisper, but seemed like the hoarse screams of some dying animal pleading for release. The others around me took up the chant, hurling it from one to another, until the last shouted it down to the pit. Shards of slate were then tossed into the pit, making no noise, meeting silently with whatever lurked there. That something that dwelled in the darkness of the chasm responded to the entreaties. I could swear that above their hoarse shrieks I heard a terrible sound, like the lapping of thickened water. Their shouting intensified as they began to leap up and down, shaking their limbs. One boy held out his hand. . . and was touched by something from the pit! A stream of blackness, deeper and darker than any my eyes had ever seen issued forth and snaked around that boy's pale wrist. It moved like liquid; and sounded like poison. Each of the boys began to howl, stripping off whatever clothes they wore. I watched as they finally freed themselves to twist and jump, a dance both graceful and horrific. Tentacles of the black thing shot forth to touch their skin, stroke their naked bodies with a lover's touch as they laughed and cavorted. Their firm erections were jolted by the creature's lingering touch, as if it sought out the most potent heat of their bodies, wanting to steal it from them. Several came, showering the blackness with their pale cum, all the while howling with glee. I had not noticed until now that some of the boys had brought bags along the descent. From them they dumped animals into the pit, letting the darkness swallow up a grand course meal. I say animals, and resist dwelling on the few things that squirmed and bawled as they fell. My mind screamed for release and I ran from the room. Even as I stood hunched over in the hallway, my thoughts shrieked, wanting peace and forgetfulness. I trembled and cried, wondering if it would not be best to rip my eyes free and cast them aside for having betrayed the rest of the body. Before my clawed hands could move, I heard someone enter the corridor from that accursed room. I looked up to see Brandon standing over me, his mask slightly askew, his naked body glistening with an iridescent slime. Even then lust caught me, my eyes glancing downward to note how rigid he was. He lifted me up gently, to meet his face. Then I watched as one of his fingers reached down to his chest and brought back a daub of that muck. He held it before my eyes; I could see the oily sheen it had. Then he offered it to my lips. I could read nothing of his thoughts through the mask. But the decision was made, had been back in that bar past the Line weeks ago. Before he had a chance to withdraw the offer, I wrapped my mouth around the finger and sucked hard. The slime tasted acrid and felt like cold slush falling down my throat. But I did not gag or show any signs of suffering. Brandon let me taste his finger for several minutes, and then he withdrew it and returned to the festival, leaving me alone again in darkness. I slipped down the wall, knowing that something black had entered me and was festering in my gullet. When they brought me back to the surface, Brandon had to carry me back to his place. I sank into a deep sleep troubled with images of dripping black water. I awoke to the little sunlight that crept through the boarded windows. To my side, Brandon was still asleep, his face serene, so different from the mask he had worn the night before. I rose without disturbing him and, dressed only in underwear, took the stairs down to the courtyard. Here I am. The hours have passed, and I have been staring at the closed gate. What happened last night was no delusion, I am sure, but rather something like a wedding. But to what am I married? The night came upon me while still in this fugue. The air holds a slight breeze warm against my bare skin, and I wonder just how cool my touch is now. Nobody forced this path of corruption upon me, nor did they place my hands on the metal bars and aim my eyes to those dark steps. I am solely to blame. But to what end? A light touch on my shoulder does not startle me, and I find the fingers assuring. I turn to find Brandon before me, naked in the night. He takes one of my hands in his, guiding it to his bare chest, against the smooth skin. We come closer and know that inside we both share a black taint. Together we make our way back to our room. For the first time, I am master upon the bed, selfishly taking before I give any pleasure. Afterwards we lay together and now I know that for all my waking moments when I dreaded the path I walked, the companion I had found along the way has made the harsh price worth it.
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To what extent has the Covid-19 pandemic impacted your sexual activities over 2020 and now into 2021? Did you abstain from hookups for a time? Or reduce your numbers? For those who are into group sex/gangbangs/orgies, how much was your sex life affected by the shutdown of organized events and parties? Did you just stop that sort of activity or did you manage to find unofficial “underground” groups that were still going? -
When you have tested positive for an STI, do you continue to have sex while being for an STI? Or do you abstain?
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There's nothing quite like your first time. Let's see it from this perspective: Imagine being a young gay man, 24, still a virgin, and wanting to explore your sexuality. You scour hookup apps, something new to you, looking for a guy to fuck. After awhile, you find a hot, fuzzy-bodied jock with a sock fetish who agrees to meet you. He comes over that same morning and you both go into your bedroom and sit on the bed. You reach over to grab his crotch, and he does the same to you. You get hot and flustered, never having touched a man this way. Both of you grow harder as you rub each other's bulges. Next thing you know, his jeans and underwear are off, on the floor, and his hard, warm cock is in your hand. You feel how soft its skin is and how it pulsates as you slowly stroke it. The guy then tells you in a soft, sexy voice, "You can suck on it if you want". With that command, you lower your head, mouth open, and engulf the glans, tasting another man's meat for the first time. The texture is rubbery, the flavor juicy. He lays back and moans as you move your lips up and down the shaft, sucking it gently and rolling your tongue around the head. Your saliva coats his cock as you bob your head up and down, creating more friction. You go down further and want to suck his balls, but he says they're too sensitive, so you keep sucking his cock. After several minutes, he says he's about to cum, but you grip his cock tight, not wanting him to unload until you both have anal sex. With him edged, you take your shorts and underwear off and hunker down on the bed, your ass in the air. He puts lube on your hole, and the coldness makes you shake slightly. The next thing you feel is a pressure in your hole, then realize he's inside you. Your mouth falls open, feeling how easy it was to be penetrated and how wonderful it feels to be filled rectally with another guy's dick. You wrap your arms around a pillow and softly moan as he humps your ass, slowly, rocking back and forth. After slow fucking, you beg him to fuck you harder, so he obliges, and you bury your face in the pillow and moan, feeling your ass being pounded. The smell of sex is in the air and the warmth of your bodies makes the room more stifling. You become breathless as he keeps fucking you. Several minutes elapse, and he unloads in your ass. You catch your breath and feel mildly exhausted, but also feel such glee that you finally lost your virginity to a hot guy. Before he redresses, you sit up and inspect his firm ass, seeing that his hole is brown and sparsely-haired, but never get to rim it. He never comes back for more, but you now know that you're going to want dick and ass all the time from this point on. You'll always remember the one who took your cherry.
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So do you find it a turnoff if a guy is upfront and ready for sex/eager or is it better if he acts less interested/standoffish/has other options? I guess this might vary by top/bottom and also if you are wanting some kind of relationship or just a one off fuck. I tend to just be...you're hot...you're hung...i need fucked...let's go and i've had some guys say they like the chance more. So what are your thoughts?
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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.
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What was your most embarrassing moment during sex? Mine was recently fucking a bud in a hotel room and our loud sex noises had people banging on the walls yelling “we can hear you!” Great sex but after we were done we left down the stairs with big smiles and left by a side door. LOL You?
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Okay guys I have to tell you about this podcast I am addicted to. I am always looking for interesting audio stimulation and have tried to find gay erotica, which I have found, but to be honest its usually a yawner. Its the perils of loving piggy sex, I can not find erotic stories featuring bareback gangbangs, gloryholes, anonymous motel cumdumps and so on. At least I have not managed to find any. So I stumbled on this podcast called 'My Dad Wrote a Porno'. How could I not check it out. Turns out its AMAZING. First of all (spoiler alert) its not sexy, AT ALL, and the only gay action so far is Lesbian (barf). But what it is is some of the funniest shit you will ever hear. Lots of terrible sex read out by a British guy with a super sexy voice and his two best friends interjecting comments. This podcast is great therapy. If you are having a bad day, depressed, waiting at the doctors office for your next STI screening, whatever, it is the best at making you laugh. It will put you in a better mood guaranteed. And stick with it. The seasons just get better and better. I am still holding on to hope there will be some male on male action. By the way one of the commentators is gay and his lack of knowledge about female anatomy is adorable. Turns out I didn't know any more than him. I listen to it on Audible for free with commercials. I believe it is also available on iTunes and probably other platforms where podcasts are featured. I like to listen after a drink or two and I laugh myself silly. Anybody else on here addicted to "My Dad Wrote a Porno'?
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