Feeder Posted April 30, 2011 Report Share Posted April 30, 2011 To see iBLASTinside's original blog post, click here... Help make Mark’s birthday a little better while he’s out of work with a donation. Learn more about the gift-giving effort. I should have known. For months, this “muscle bottom” and I have gone round and round about meeting up and fucking. I’d actually driven to his address only to find the place was a condo surrounded by a locked gate that required a code. That prompted me to skip him since I couldn’t exactly e-mail him via one of the bareback sites and wait for his response while engine running in the fucking driveway. Later, another invitation was interrupted because, as I was getting the details, another top arrived and, well, first things first. So by the time he returned to our conversation, I’d moved on. This time, I started early. I got the address. I got the gate code and I got the condo number. He told me the back door would be unlocked so I thought we had it covered. Did I mention I had to ask for each one? It was a challenge. Fucking hell, no. I got there fine but the building in question only had one condo with an exterior door accessible to the outside of the building. The other eight entrances were not labeled and I looked suspicious enough going to doors and attempting to open after walking around the entire building once. So I went back and sent him a message. He repeated the first instructions. Fuck. Yes, I knew all that. I couldn’t get in the goddamned building. He finally wrote a paragraph explaining the door I should try. Indeed, it worked (when I got to it) and I made it to his place. As I stepped inside the condo into the unused kitchen, new smells bombarded me. The distinct scent of pot and something much crisper, sharper had been smoked here and then an attempt of patchouli to cover it up. I could see the smooth white ass in the bedroom beyond the tastefully decorated*living room. I stepped into the bedroom to discover mirrors, floor to ceiling and 8 feet wide in front of the bottom and to my right. Bareback porno played on a 52-inch flat screen. The brass bed had multiple restraints attached to it of many sorts*— leather, metal, chains. The bedside table included a selection of poppers and lube worthy of any adult store. For all this, I was struck by another scent. Now I know a lot of folks get into manscents*— the unwashed and undeoderized. I’m not someone that likes perfumes or even all that much cologne. But I doubt this man had showered in three days. I knew the lens trick often referred to by old Hollywood starlets as smearing petroleum jelly all over to give it a glow and slight lack of focus. Lord knows he had plenty of it anyway. I was prepared that he was at least 10 years senior his claim*— probably more. Didn’t bother me there. But that smell. My cock didn’t want to get hard but I wanted to get my weekend off with a bang and I was determined. So I watched the TV porn, which was some sort of gang bang with a bunch of performers I didn’t recognize. That got me halfway there to slide into his hole. A hole like his was easy to enter. So I started to fuck. He had a big chest and, for what I could feel, nice nips. I wanted to feel him up but, fuck, every time I bent over, I’d get a whiff of those pits and the jock he had on (now I figured out it was loaded with piss). I dared not do that any more for trying to avoid gagging. His ass felt good but my cock’s hardness did not improve all that much. Fuck. Watching the porn managed to build me into enough of a frenzy that it was popper time and I snorted some, went into top mode and eventually blew a small load into his ass. Pulling out with a tiny pop, you could see just a touch leaking out. He didn’t move. I left. 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