Here's a video I had never seen before that was sent in by a reader for the edification of you all. It's long and so is the video! This should give you a few, uh, pointers if you are into sensuous massage, large cocks or non-distracting quasi-Asian New Age music. Or if you have an oil fetish. A full service instructional video with a happy ending!
This is How You Massage A Penis
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
AUTUMN FALLING
I.
She said, “You could talk the pants off of me,”
I said, “But you aren’t wearing any.”
She said, “See.”
II.
“I met you when I was 14.”
I tried not to remind her how old I was now.
“I knew then we’d always be close.”
Years later, this conversation took place
She is jailbait no more.
She has kids
And an asshole ex
The type of which I encounter more often than not
These days
As a man about town
Where women have exs, children, bills
A smidgeon of spare time
Men have issues
And nights are long
In my arms confessing all.
In a town where my conquests, my flirtations
My formers and coulda-beens
Exist as much through the ether
As in real time face-to-face
Hip-to-hip horizontal bop.
Long distance lovers and dreamers and thieves
Who steal into my dreams and disappear
In the light of day
Or don’t.
She takes pictures for a living
Something I encouraged
A talented eye to try.
Now I look at shots of her
Through the years
And yearn for stories
And more.
We share sexy confessions late at night
She quietly listens
As my voices lowers near whisper
I hear her breath quicken
And she’ll coo in that warm musty voice of hers
Which strikes sparks
From my paused pontificating
As she murmurs
“I’m soaked. Tell me more…”
III.
Three dark sirens
And me strapped to the mast
Willing
Ready
Leaning into their songs.
The first doesn’t sing as much as scream
Panting at the slapping tide
Crashing against her hips
Stinging spots soft from neglect
Her eyes glazed in trance
Having waited for this storm
To rear up and spit its pent-up fury
In her anxious direction.
The second doesn’t sing
As much as dance the silent sound
Around
Serpentine ballet of illusion
Mystery
And pulls songs from around her
Where reflected
Become her own.
She is echo maker.
Creating bounceback
Riptide
Magnetic lunar tug
and light.
The sound that reaches
Here last
Shines as light vibrates
With sound
As creation is energized light
Fliting so quickly
Our eyes see nothing
But radiant
Blinding beauty
Youth of sound and movement
Danced and reflected
Spun like silk thru the tumultuous air
Shaking all still
In attentive embrace of the song.
But too fresh
To grasp the full effect.
Beauty reflects beauty
Reflects beauty
Dashed
To the ancient
Craggy sea.
IV.
Still autumn falls
In spite of our best efforts
In spite of hurried dreams
Storms brew and hit landfall
Floods, quakes
Minor heartbreaks
Blow up your inflatables
Man those paddles
We’re heading to the sea
On a river of you and me.
V.
There are healers
Squealers
Blatant revealers
Circling round my grizzled mop
Wallflowers
Awful towers
Of mismatched powers
Struggling over linguistics
Logistics
And wasted hours.
Tantalizing
Rope tricks
Some Willing Rogers lusty
Ribald
Knotty tales
Spinning captured
Words of rapturous
Love
Snakeskin boots
Apple corps.
Hanging
On this lion’s
Roar.
There are mysterians
Leaving c-c-cryptic massages
Red flesh handprint language
Moist code
To be deciphered
Mulled over
Questioned.
Just come clean.
Where were you on the night of…
Torturous inquisitions
Surveyed
Sexy
What ifs and what ares
Who dids and who didn’ts
Hands behind your back
Gimme some truth, baby
Confess
Melt down
Blab
What you need
Right now
All I ask
Amidst the charade
Is the ghost of reality
A taste on your lips.
~ September 8-10, BBC for Minx, Tiny, Ms. C, Ringer, SubB
She said, “You could talk the pants off of me,”
I said, “But you aren’t wearing any.”
She said, “See.”
II.
“I met you when I was 14.”
I tried not to remind her how old I was now.
“I knew then we’d always be close.”
Years later, this conversation took place
She is jailbait no more.
She has kids
And an asshole ex
The type of which I encounter more often than not
These days
As a man about town
Where women have exs, children, bills
A smidgeon of spare time
Men have issues
And nights are long
In my arms confessing all.
In a town where my conquests, my flirtations
My formers and coulda-beens
Exist as much through the ether
As in real time face-to-face
Hip-to-hip horizontal bop.
Long distance lovers and dreamers and thieves
Who steal into my dreams and disappear
In the light of day
Or don’t.
She takes pictures for a living
Something I encouraged
A talented eye to try.
Now I look at shots of her
Through the years
And yearn for stories
And more.
We share sexy confessions late at night
She quietly listens
As my voices lowers near whisper
I hear her breath quicken
And she’ll coo in that warm musty voice of hers
Which strikes sparks
From my paused pontificating
As she murmurs
“I’m soaked. Tell me more…”
III.
Three dark sirens
And me strapped to the mast
Willing
Ready
Leaning into their songs.
The first doesn’t sing as much as scream
Panting at the slapping tide
Crashing against her hips
Stinging spots soft from neglect
Her eyes glazed in trance
Having waited for this storm
To rear up and spit its pent-up fury
In her anxious direction.
The second doesn’t sing
As much as dance the silent sound
Around
Serpentine ballet of illusion
Mystery
And pulls songs from around her
Where reflected
Become her own.
She is echo maker.
Creating bounceback
Riptide
Magnetic lunar tug
and light.
The sound that reaches
Here last
Shines as light vibrates
With sound
As creation is energized light
Fliting so quickly
Our eyes see nothing
But radiant
Blinding beauty
Youth of sound and movement
Danced and reflected
Spun like silk thru the tumultuous air
Shaking all still
In attentive embrace of the song.
But too fresh
To grasp the full effect.
Beauty reflects beauty
Reflects beauty
Dashed
To the ancient
Craggy sea.
IV.
Still autumn falls
In spite of our best efforts
In spite of hurried dreams
Storms brew and hit landfall
Floods, quakes
Minor heartbreaks
Blow up your inflatables
Man those paddles
We’re heading to the sea
On a river of you and me.
V.
There are healers
Squealers
Blatant revealers
Circling round my grizzled mop
Wallflowers
Awful towers
Of mismatched powers
Struggling over linguistics
Logistics
And wasted hours.
Tantalizing
Rope tricks
Some Willing Rogers lusty
Ribald
Knotty tales
Spinning captured
Words of rapturous
Love
Snakeskin boots
Apple corps.
Hanging
On this lion’s
Roar.
There are mysterians
Leaving c-c-cryptic massages
Red flesh handprint language
Moist code
To be deciphered
Mulled over
Questioned.
Just come clean.
Where were you on the night of…
Torturous inquisitions
Surveyed
Sexy
What ifs and what ares
Who dids and who didn’ts
Hands behind your back
Gimme some truth, baby
Confess
Melt down
Blab
What you need
Right now
All I ask
Amidst the charade
Is the ghost of reality
A taste on your lips.
~ September 8-10, BBC for Minx, Tiny, Ms. C, Ringer, SubB
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
SMALL INSTRUCTIONS #5
As punishment for your not having read my previous message as of yet, tonight you will be forced to your knees, and as I take out my cock and stroke it in front of you, I may decide not to allow you to taste my warm tumescence. You must beg me for it with your eyes and if you aren't convincing enough I will punish you as I see fit. When I am through bringing you the pain that makes your body quiver with excitement, that hardens my stiffening wand to bursting, you will be requested to slowly ease your hand up my waiting ass. I want to feel your tiny hand inside me slowly coaxing my shivering body to respond. You will jerk and suck my cock down your waiting throat and when I am through having my pleasure satisfied you will receive a tender, deserved spanking until your tears are no longer yours but mine alone. Tonight, you are here for my pleasure. You will remember how you serve me and every day while I am gone, you will accept that your service will be missed and that when we next see each other all of our smoldering desire for each other will flow through us igniting the passion longed for over the miles.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
SMALL INSTRUCTIONS #4
Hello my little slut,
Future plans: You will meet me fresh from shower using sandalwood soap. I want every inch of you smelling of this. You will wear expendable clothes and bring along something to wear home. Sexy panties a must. Clothes that can be cut or torn off of you and taken as shredded souvenirs as I desire.
You will call me only Sir, or mister. "No" will mean "yes." I will take you as I please and I want some resistance verbally and physically but I would like to see you cower as you did in my loving room the first time. When I am with you I am in a space of surety entwined with ecstatic suffering as your pain brings me a pain drenched with love and trust. Your trust empowers me.
When you left on Sunday, I stayed up for four hours fantasizing about so many filthy things I want to put you through. I will teach you to hurt me as well. A wonderful start we had. I long to call you from California and tell you all of these filthy things while you get yourself off. I yearn to find a young man anxious for you who will be tied and blindfolded and listen to me slap and chastise you. Who will listen to me fuck your ass, slap your thighs, hear you crying.
And while you are restrained and spanked into a trance, I will slowly pinch and kiss and provoke his anxious skin, pull his hair and suck his cock as you watch us, torturing him with enticing words and thoughts of his filling you with hard, thick cock. But before he is allowed to violate you, he must first make slow deliberate love to me, following your every wish.
Finally, we will both fill you with our warm fullness and splash our excitement across you beautiful face.
In the meantime, you are mine slutty plaything and I am your dastardly puppet.
Future plans: You will meet me fresh from shower using sandalwood soap. I want every inch of you smelling of this. You will wear expendable clothes and bring along something to wear home. Sexy panties a must. Clothes that can be cut or torn off of you and taken as shredded souvenirs as I desire.
You will call me only Sir, or mister. "No" will mean "yes." I will take you as I please and I want some resistance verbally and physically but I would like to see you cower as you did in my loving room the first time. When I am with you I am in a space of surety entwined with ecstatic suffering as your pain brings me a pain drenched with love and trust. Your trust empowers me.
When you left on Sunday, I stayed up for four hours fantasizing about so many filthy things I want to put you through. I will teach you to hurt me as well. A wonderful start we had. I long to call you from California and tell you all of these filthy things while you get yourself off. I yearn to find a young man anxious for you who will be tied and blindfolded and listen to me slap and chastise you. Who will listen to me fuck your ass, slap your thighs, hear you crying.
And while you are restrained and spanked into a trance, I will slowly pinch and kiss and provoke his anxious skin, pull his hair and suck his cock as you watch us, torturing him with enticing words and thoughts of his filling you with hard, thick cock. But before he is allowed to violate you, he must first make slow deliberate love to me, following your every wish.
Finally, we will both fill you with our warm fullness and splash our excitement across you beautiful face.
In the meantime, you are mine slutty plaything and I am your dastardly puppet.
THE EYES HAVE IT
Concert at The Echo, bands I don't know. I crawl in solo and early, walking around before the show, making quick eye contact with a brunette in a hippie dress. Green eyes. Young. Half my age (isn’t everyone?). I get a drink at the bar, move around behind her 20 feet or so back. She’s obviously with some tall, galoot in a plaid shirt. He’s yammering at her about his job, what he does. Her eyes dart around the periphery and back to him when she thinks he’s looking at her, feigning interest. He never asks her a question, or even pauses to allow her a random innocuous comment. In fact, he doesn’t seem to really care if she is listening at all, he just presumes so. For the most part he keeps his eyes up in the rafters as he speaks. Glancing at the stage lights, the big, dark speakers hanging precariously in the corners of the room playing some decent, if non-descript CD of post-apocalyptic, West Coast, 80s punk.
She feels my eyes on her. I look up and down her body slowly, memorizing. She’s wearing a loose, hippie-type dress. Summery, muslin perhaps, short above her knees but low-cut with a little cleavage and a necklace I can’t quite see from 10 feet away in the darkened club. She feels my eyes on her, catching me looking her over. When he glances away from her, rambling, she smiles slightly and glances directly in my eyes. I do not avert. This goes on all during the first act, repeating like the incessant bass line. She seems to know the words to all of the songs. I know none of them. She’s obviously a regular and me just a newbie fan who hadn’t even heard of this band until the night before.
During the break I sit on edge of the stage and watch the crowd mill about. Some mating dances, lots of 20-somethings out for a night of rock n roll with packs of friends. She must be on a first date because who would hang with this moron more than once. Almost every time I look at her she is either already looking at me or turns her eyes slightly trying to be nonchalant and not obvious about it. Why her interest in me, I’m unsure. Other than the fact that my fearlessness at making eye contact might be a bit irregular for someone of her beauty and then again, perhaps I'm obviously just forward enough considering her hovering suitor.
During main band’s set, all sexy 70s harmonies and 90s grungy guitars with flashes of Bakersfield honky-tonk twang. She video tapes the whole thing. While the three guitarist front men are much closer to her age, she doesn’t sing along this set but keeps glancing away from her screen and out of the corner of her eye at me. She has positioned herself between the finally quiet boyfriend and the sweat-wet singers and her date is none the wiser. This has got to be a first date or perhaps the closing moments of something gone on too listlessly long.
Before the encore, he runs off with his peanut bladder, and I figure, impulsively, that I only have a minute or two. I take five steps to my left. Eyes locked on hers, her camera is at her side. Everyone else must presume I'm lurching, aching for rock star proximity in the pit when actually I’m scooching to the right over to her side to say, “Your red light is still on.”
“A-----”, she says her name softly, as if a forbidden secret shared.
“Hi. Who’s the guy? What’s is story?”
“He’s boring. He went to get one for the road. You really want HIS story?”
“No, just yours. You, live in town?”
“Yes, Silver Lake. I’m 25. You?”
“That’s two answers. I only asked one…I live in the mountains.”
“Nice…(she waits)”
“54, though I look MUCH younger.”
She giggles. “Older than my dad,” with a big beautiful smile.
Now it’s my turn to say, “Nice.” She laughs out loud.
“Great hiking up there waiting for you, come on up for a visit.” I smile big. She grins big back. I can’t believe how easy it is to just invite this stranger to my moungtain home, miles away. I’m kind of amazed myself. My balls hurt, they are so big. But I figured the dude would be back any minute. “Seen these guys before?” I ask, meaning the band.
“Seen the opener but not the other guys. You?”
“Nope. But they were awesome.” She giggles again. “You like Jeff Beck?...not Beck, Jeff Beck the guitarist?” Now, I’m throwing it out there fast. I am so sick of wasting time especially when I have nothing to lose.
“Sure, he’s got a girl on bass.” I don’t tell her it’s not that band anymore but I’m impressed she knows that.
“I thinking about trying to get tickets to see him in Pomona tomorrow night. Can I call you in the morning?”
She just recites me her number. Hold on…” I scramble for my phone. She repeats it and I get it in without area code, furtively glancing up to see “Mr. First Date” Coming from across the room, walking slowly concentrating to not spill his two full beers.
I start to ask a question, which she anticipates, “323.”
She was about 5’2”, natural, unpretentious looking girl, brunette, curly Joan Osborne type angelic hair. Pale skin. Curvy, dimpled smile. Eyes green like emerald pools. Nice body from what I could see. Not super skinny but not fat either. I liked that she was direct, only shy in the first 30 seconds of me approaching. She looked directly into my eyes when not casually looking around for her dude checking his whereabouts. She seemed very comfortable with my attentions. Quite nonchalant and natural. Wow.
Looking up, I see he’s about 10 feet away, and closing, hands soaked. She has both of their coats in her arms and he tries to hand her a beer and of course, doesn’t reach to help with the coats. Doofus.
Fortuitously, I get a call from my buddy who told me about the show. I turn and look down at my cell before the guy gets that I’m chatting up his girl. Stand there acting busy, texting, “I’m talking to a hottie.” I put my phone to my ear and then glance up at her and she mouths the words, “Call me,” as he leads her to one of the little tables that were emptying out over by the side wall. I head outside, leaning against a car parked curbside, hoping for one last glance. After about ten minutes, they get booted and stroll out into the night. As they pass my post, I look into her eyes and stick my hand against my chest and make it flutter. She smiles and walks by in Moron’s yammering wake.
I can barely sleep all night, anxious to call her. I wait until 11 a.m. the next morning, Sheer will power, I was thinking she was probably up late and didn’t want her to think I was too anxious. She answered on the second ring and said, before I had a chance to speak, “’Bout time you called.”
“How’d you know it was me?” I laughed.
“I recognized the area code. You sure were forward last night,” I hear the teasing under-her-breath smile curving the vorners of her mouth as she speaks.
“I apologize but I just couldn’t risk not seeing that look in your eyes again.”
“…or the chance of seeing me naked.” Boy, this girl was direct, pretty intense for a girl her age. I felt exhilarated but also a bit trepidatious thinking I should probably keep on my toes.
“So are we going to that concert tonight or is this a booty call?”
“Well, do you have a preference?” Two could play this game.
“How about you come over and fuck me and then we decide?” I had no problem agreeing to that but wanted to make her wonder for a moment. “What makes you presume I want to fuck you?” I queried, unconvincingly.
She hung up.
Oh shit. Now, who’s the doofus? But I could practically hear her laugh in the silence of her far-off room. On the tenth ring she picked up, torturing me.
“So that didn’t take long to decide, now did it?” she sounded reserved but playful, but what did I know, I hardly knew her. “Did it?” This time she said it a bit more forcefully.
“I will do whatever you want me to do, young lady.” She had me and I tested the waters to make sure she was ready and willing as she implied.
“In private, you call me Mistress Ann. I presume you know how to pay me proper respect when you address me?”
“Yes, Mistress Ann.”
“Good. Now when I am ready, I will text you my address and I will expect you there within the hour. I want you on your knees at my front door when I answer it. Barefoot. Now, go clean yourself up.”
“Yes, Mistress Ann.”
She feels my eyes on her. I look up and down her body slowly, memorizing. She’s wearing a loose, hippie-type dress. Summery, muslin perhaps, short above her knees but low-cut with a little cleavage and a necklace I can’t quite see from 10 feet away in the darkened club. She feels my eyes on her, catching me looking her over. When he glances away from her, rambling, she smiles slightly and glances directly in my eyes. I do not avert. This goes on all during the first act, repeating like the incessant bass line. She seems to know the words to all of the songs. I know none of them. She’s obviously a regular and me just a newbie fan who hadn’t even heard of this band until the night before.
During the break I sit on edge of the stage and watch the crowd mill about. Some mating dances, lots of 20-somethings out for a night of rock n roll with packs of friends. She must be on a first date because who would hang with this moron more than once. Almost every time I look at her she is either already looking at me or turns her eyes slightly trying to be nonchalant and not obvious about it. Why her interest in me, I’m unsure. Other than the fact that my fearlessness at making eye contact might be a bit irregular for someone of her beauty and then again, perhaps I'm obviously just forward enough considering her hovering suitor.
During main band’s set, all sexy 70s harmonies and 90s grungy guitars with flashes of Bakersfield honky-tonk twang. She video tapes the whole thing. While the three guitarist front men are much closer to her age, she doesn’t sing along this set but keeps glancing away from her screen and out of the corner of her eye at me. She has positioned herself between the finally quiet boyfriend and the sweat-wet singers and her date is none the wiser. This has got to be a first date or perhaps the closing moments of something gone on too listlessly long.
Before the encore, he runs off with his peanut bladder, and I figure, impulsively, that I only have a minute or two. I take five steps to my left. Eyes locked on hers, her camera is at her side. Everyone else must presume I'm lurching, aching for rock star proximity in the pit when actually I’m scooching to the right over to her side to say, “Your red light is still on.”
“A-----”, she says her name softly, as if a forbidden secret shared.
“Hi. Who’s the guy? What’s is story?”
“He’s boring. He went to get one for the road. You really want HIS story?”
“No, just yours. You, live in town?”
“Yes, Silver Lake. I’m 25. You?”
“That’s two answers. I only asked one…I live in the mountains.”
“Nice…(she waits)”
“54, though I look MUCH younger.”
She giggles. “Older than my dad,” with a big beautiful smile.
Now it’s my turn to say, “Nice.” She laughs out loud.
“Great hiking up there waiting for you, come on up for a visit.” I smile big. She grins big back. I can’t believe how easy it is to just invite this stranger to my moungtain home, miles away. I’m kind of amazed myself. My balls hurt, they are so big. But I figured the dude would be back any minute. “Seen these guys before?” I ask, meaning the band.
“Seen the opener but not the other guys. You?”
“Nope. But they were awesome.” She giggles again. “You like Jeff Beck?...not Beck, Jeff Beck the guitarist?” Now, I’m throwing it out there fast. I am so sick of wasting time especially when I have nothing to lose.
“Sure, he’s got a girl on bass.” I don’t tell her it’s not that band anymore but I’m impressed she knows that.
“I thinking about trying to get tickets to see him in Pomona tomorrow night. Can I call you in the morning?”
She just recites me her number. Hold on…” I scramble for my phone. She repeats it and I get it in without area code, furtively glancing up to see “Mr. First Date” Coming from across the room, walking slowly concentrating to not spill his two full beers.
I start to ask a question, which she anticipates, “323.”
She was about 5’2”, natural, unpretentious looking girl, brunette, curly Joan Osborne type angelic hair. Pale skin. Curvy, dimpled smile. Eyes green like emerald pools. Nice body from what I could see. Not super skinny but not fat either. I liked that she was direct, only shy in the first 30 seconds of me approaching. She looked directly into my eyes when not casually looking around for her dude checking his whereabouts. She seemed very comfortable with my attentions. Quite nonchalant and natural. Wow.
Looking up, I see he’s about 10 feet away, and closing, hands soaked. She has both of their coats in her arms and he tries to hand her a beer and of course, doesn’t reach to help with the coats. Doofus.
Fortuitously, I get a call from my buddy who told me about the show. I turn and look down at my cell before the guy gets that I’m chatting up his girl. Stand there acting busy, texting, “I’m talking to a hottie.” I put my phone to my ear and then glance up at her and she mouths the words, “Call me,” as he leads her to one of the little tables that were emptying out over by the side wall. I head outside, leaning against a car parked curbside, hoping for one last glance. After about ten minutes, they get booted and stroll out into the night. As they pass my post, I look into her eyes and stick my hand against my chest and make it flutter. She smiles and walks by in Moron’s yammering wake.
I can barely sleep all night, anxious to call her. I wait until 11 a.m. the next morning, Sheer will power, I was thinking she was probably up late and didn’t want her to think I was too anxious. She answered on the second ring and said, before I had a chance to speak, “’Bout time you called.”
“How’d you know it was me?” I laughed.
“I recognized the area code. You sure were forward last night,” I hear the teasing under-her-breath smile curving the vorners of her mouth as she speaks.
“I apologize but I just couldn’t risk not seeing that look in your eyes again.”
“…or the chance of seeing me naked.” Boy, this girl was direct, pretty intense for a girl her age. I felt exhilarated but also a bit trepidatious thinking I should probably keep on my toes.
“So are we going to that concert tonight or is this a booty call?”
“Well, do you have a preference?” Two could play this game.
“How about you come over and fuck me and then we decide?” I had no problem agreeing to that but wanted to make her wonder for a moment. “What makes you presume I want to fuck you?” I queried, unconvincingly.
She hung up.
Oh shit. Now, who’s the doofus? But I could practically hear her laugh in the silence of her far-off room. On the tenth ring she picked up, torturing me.
“So that didn’t take long to decide, now did it?” she sounded reserved but playful, but what did I know, I hardly knew her. “Did it?” This time she said it a bit more forcefully.
“I will do whatever you want me to do, young lady.” She had me and I tested the waters to make sure she was ready and willing as she implied.
“In private, you call me Mistress Ann. I presume you know how to pay me proper respect when you address me?”
“Yes, Mistress Ann.”
“Good. Now when I am ready, I will text you my address and I will expect you there within the hour. I want you on your knees at my front door when I answer it. Barefoot. Now, go clean yourself up.”
“Yes, Mistress Ann.”
Sunday, May 29, 2011
SHOOTER
DREAM -
P.O.V. is from the shooter…
Man in a room with an assault rifle. There are five-ten movie star guys, 20-30 yrs old on the floor of the room. He starts by first shooting one of them in the leg. He spins and falls silently. The others each stand up and start to beg for their lives, though there is no sound except for a click whenever the trigger is pulled. The victims are each wearing dollar bills stuck to their bare shoulders and chests. The only other thing they have on are sheer briefs. You can see their cocks and balls through the material. They each get shot once in the shoulder or neck and grab it and fall. Then the next guy gets shot.
P.o.v. shifts to dreamer…
The Shooter is a long-haired young guy looks sort of like actor Lukas Haas. He walks out of the room and is walking through a restaurant. He carries the gun openly and says or nods “good night” to a few people and no one seems shocked by the gun he is carrying. Nice place. 1/3 of the tables are full of late-night diners finishing their meals. Dark wood paneled walls and red leather banquettes. Wait staff wears white aprons.
Once outside, he thinks that this is quite a rifle. His two female buddies do too. He aims at a tall tower, like a lighthouse but industrial, maybe a smokestack, probably 500 yds away. He shoots and the light in the top of it goes it. “Wow. Great shot,” someone says. He shoots at a bldg a few blocks away and part of the neon sign sparks. He turns and points the gun at a big glass window on the front of the restaurant he just came out of across the street. Someone inside falls to the ground…for a moment everyone thinks he’s been shot but he gets up laughing. They are all dancing inside the window. The shooter leans the gun in a corner against the front of a bar they are standing in front of.
p.o.v. changes…to me.
The shooter is now gone and I’m standing with the two women. A guy walks up that we know. Tall, blond bearded. His name id DJ. He’s with an even taller, slightly older, short-bearded guy carrying a huge black backpack. DJ says, “This is Tom Mitchell. He directed Blittz II”. We all recognize the name of a famous film or video game. They walk in the door. DJ sticks his head back out and announces, “I think he’s my soul mate…too bad I’m not gay.”
The woman to my immediate right is a Gwyneth Paltrow look alike. She has a short quiet, exotic –looking girl and her right arm. ‘Gwyn’ says to the a girl who walked up with DJ, “Where’s the money?” For some reason I know she’s speaking code. DJ’s girl walks up and moves her white woolen thumb to Gwyn’s eye, wiping a white cocaine-like substance just under her lower eyelid. The woman turns to me and pokes the same thumb into my nostrils, first right, then left. I lean to Gwyn and whisper. “Bet you she’ll kiss me in 30 seconds.” She laughs. I look at the woman who is a stunning brunette with freckles and emerald green eyes. I silently look intently into her eyes for an endless 15 seconds and then I say softly, “What makes you need to kiss me so badly?” She leans in and our mouth s meet, wet and open. I take her bottom lip between my teeth for a moment. I take her hand and we quickly walk down the block.
A block down on our left, there is a small store front with no sign. The tall, narrow window is lit from behind by harsh fluorescent light. We walk in the door. The room is maybe 5’ x 5’. There is an Asian woman at a counter. Walking past her we move through a dark door into a large back room. Maybe 15’x15’, lined all in large white tiles. There are two young Asian women talking at a sink/counter in front of a mirror.
I put a hand on my new friend’s shoulder and she sits on a bench. I take a step towards her and look down to see the distinct outline of my hard cock jutting straight out towards her. She pulls open my pants and engulfs my stiffness down her throat. Taking her left hand, I pull her index finger into my mouth, wetting it well.
“Do it,” is all I say and she takes her hand away and slowly slides her finger into my waiting ass. In three or four slow pumps down her throat, I am ready to explode. She pulls her nose back away from my crotch and lays my cock head on her tongue so I can watch my hot excitement fill her mouth. I feel her eyes on mine, anticipating.
When she has taken it all and cleaned me off. I pull her standing by her long, soft hair, kiss a few stray drops from her lips and reach down between her legs. Under her short skirt her thin lace panties are drenched and easily move aside as I slip two fingers into her. We stare into each others eyes as she begins to move against my hand in slow undulating motion. Her eyes glaze over and I feel her shift her body weight against me, her arms around my neck becoming heavy. As her breathing quickens, she tightens her grip around my fingers and I sense a long wave of release coursing slowly up her body, followed quickly by a succession of repeated involuntary spasms. She never closes her eyes though they get thinner and nearly shut a couple of times. When she is sated, we lean heavily against the wall.
The ambient light which had dimmed and seemed tinged in red from a small window above us, now took on a warm but brighter glow. I hear the Asian women giggling and whispering behind us. I slide down onto the bench, my date never takes her arms from around my neck, eyes now shut, breathing slowly as if she is practically sleeping. I cradle her in my arms.
One of the women walks towards us and with a steaming dark towel gently wipes our hands while the other does the same to my cock, still protruding from my fly. She gently tucks me back in and zips me up. They leave us alone in the room.
p.o.v. is now third person/camera man…
I walk out of the room, carrying the woman in my arms. The girl at the front counter scurries quickly to open the front door. We are again on the same dark street vague traces of purple dawn showing themselves from around the corners of buildings.
P.O.V. is from the shooter…
Man in a room with an assault rifle. There are five-ten movie star guys, 20-30 yrs old on the floor of the room. He starts by first shooting one of them in the leg. He spins and falls silently. The others each stand up and start to beg for their lives, though there is no sound except for a click whenever the trigger is pulled. The victims are each wearing dollar bills stuck to their bare shoulders and chests. The only other thing they have on are sheer briefs. You can see their cocks and balls through the material. They each get shot once in the shoulder or neck and grab it and fall. Then the next guy gets shot.
P.o.v. shifts to dreamer…
The Shooter is a long-haired young guy looks sort of like actor Lukas Haas. He walks out of the room and is walking through a restaurant. He carries the gun openly and says or nods “good night” to a few people and no one seems shocked by the gun he is carrying. Nice place. 1/3 of the tables are full of late-night diners finishing their meals. Dark wood paneled walls and red leather banquettes. Wait staff wears white aprons.
Once outside, he thinks that this is quite a rifle. His two female buddies do too. He aims at a tall tower, like a lighthouse but industrial, maybe a smokestack, probably 500 yds away. He shoots and the light in the top of it goes it. “Wow. Great shot,” someone says. He shoots at a bldg a few blocks away and part of the neon sign sparks. He turns and points the gun at a big glass window on the front of the restaurant he just came out of across the street. Someone inside falls to the ground…for a moment everyone thinks he’s been shot but he gets up laughing. They are all dancing inside the window. The shooter leans the gun in a corner against the front of a bar they are standing in front of.
p.o.v. changes…to me.
The shooter is now gone and I’m standing with the two women. A guy walks up that we know. Tall, blond bearded. His name id DJ. He’s with an even taller, slightly older, short-bearded guy carrying a huge black backpack. DJ says, “This is Tom Mitchell. He directed Blittz II”. We all recognize the name of a famous film or video game. They walk in the door. DJ sticks his head back out and announces, “I think he’s my soul mate…too bad I’m not gay.”
The woman to my immediate right is a Gwyneth Paltrow look alike. She has a short quiet, exotic –looking girl and her right arm. ‘Gwyn’ says to the a girl who walked up with DJ, “Where’s the money?” For some reason I know she’s speaking code. DJ’s girl walks up and moves her white woolen thumb to Gwyn’s eye, wiping a white cocaine-like substance just under her lower eyelid. The woman turns to me and pokes the same thumb into my nostrils, first right, then left. I lean to Gwyn and whisper. “Bet you she’ll kiss me in 30 seconds.” She laughs. I look at the woman who is a stunning brunette with freckles and emerald green eyes. I silently look intently into her eyes for an endless 15 seconds and then I say softly, “What makes you need to kiss me so badly?” She leans in and our mouth s meet, wet and open. I take her bottom lip between my teeth for a moment. I take her hand and we quickly walk down the block.
A block down on our left, there is a small store front with no sign. The tall, narrow window is lit from behind by harsh fluorescent light. We walk in the door. The room is maybe 5’ x 5’. There is an Asian woman at a counter. Walking past her we move through a dark door into a large back room. Maybe 15’x15’, lined all in large white tiles. There are two young Asian women talking at a sink/counter in front of a mirror.
I put a hand on my new friend’s shoulder and she sits on a bench. I take a step towards her and look down to see the distinct outline of my hard cock jutting straight out towards her. She pulls open my pants and engulfs my stiffness down her throat. Taking her left hand, I pull her index finger into my mouth, wetting it well.
“Do it,” is all I say and she takes her hand away and slowly slides her finger into my waiting ass. In three or four slow pumps down her throat, I am ready to explode. She pulls her nose back away from my crotch and lays my cock head on her tongue so I can watch my hot excitement fill her mouth. I feel her eyes on mine, anticipating.
When she has taken it all and cleaned me off. I pull her standing by her long, soft hair, kiss a few stray drops from her lips and reach down between her legs. Under her short skirt her thin lace panties are drenched and easily move aside as I slip two fingers into her. We stare into each others eyes as she begins to move against my hand in slow undulating motion. Her eyes glaze over and I feel her shift her body weight against me, her arms around my neck becoming heavy. As her breathing quickens, she tightens her grip around my fingers and I sense a long wave of release coursing slowly up her body, followed quickly by a succession of repeated involuntary spasms. She never closes her eyes though they get thinner and nearly shut a couple of times. When she is sated, we lean heavily against the wall.
The ambient light which had dimmed and seemed tinged in red from a small window above us, now took on a warm but brighter glow. I hear the Asian women giggling and whispering behind us. I slide down onto the bench, my date never takes her arms from around my neck, eyes now shut, breathing slowly as if she is practically sleeping. I cradle her in my arms.
One of the women walks towards us and with a steaming dark towel gently wipes our hands while the other does the same to my cock, still protruding from my fly. She gently tucks me back in and zips me up. They leave us alone in the room.
p.o.v. is now third person/camera man…
I walk out of the room, carrying the woman in my arms. The girl at the front counter scurries quickly to open the front door. We are again on the same dark street vague traces of purple dawn showing themselves from around the corners of buildings.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
SEX MAP
A friend on FetLife sent me to this fun SEXMAP. Make your own here is mine, open to revision...!!!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
FIRST DATE FUCKS
Yeah, I've had a couple of first date fucks...not that I don't always HOPE for it...but since the first one I had way back in college was a nightmare, and I won't relive the details but let's just say it was ME who faked orgasm to get rid of her!!!
How many times in 15 minutes can you hear "Am I good? Am I good? Am I the best?" So I sort of purposefully steered clear of first date fucking for years until about a year and a half ago when on a first date things were just going swimmingly well. Actually, that's an appropriate choice of words as you will see.
We headed back to my place after a long dinner out and great flirty conversation. Needless to say, it turned into a 36 hour first date and other than the first 3 hours at dinner and about a 6-hour nap in the middle, we were naked and fucking and wildly insane the whole time.
She was my first squirter and I have never before desired a mask and a snorkle while having sex but it was wild. She claimed to have counted over 30 squirting orgasms and my drenched face, head and bed did not doubt her math skills. I was using the Taoist injaculation methods that I had practiced for about three years (see my blog INGASMS from 9/24/09) and came many times both many innies and a couple of outties as she liked to call them.
Pretty fucking intense, literally.
On our next date we fucked in the upper balcony of a 3/4 full concert hall right in our aisle seats and then she sucked my cock in the bathroom at the post-party. Needless to say, I will never forget this wild one.
My legs were actually shaking at the memory as I typed this. Unfortunately, part of her inhibitions and her fluid retention resulted from copious amounts of alcohol she ingested which made all other parts of having any kind of continuing relationship unfathomable. She's doing better now, I hear and happy in a new romance. I wonder if he's a Navy Seal?
How many times in 15 minutes can you hear "Am I good? Am I good? Am I the best?" So I sort of purposefully steered clear of first date fucking for years until about a year and a half ago when on a first date things were just going swimmingly well. Actually, that's an appropriate choice of words as you will see.
We headed back to my place after a long dinner out and great flirty conversation. Needless to say, it turned into a 36 hour first date and other than the first 3 hours at dinner and about a 6-hour nap in the middle, we were naked and fucking and wildly insane the whole time.
She was my first squirter and I have never before desired a mask and a snorkle while having sex but it was wild. She claimed to have counted over 30 squirting orgasms and my drenched face, head and bed did not doubt her math skills. I was using the Taoist injaculation methods that I had practiced for about three years (see my blog INGASMS from 9/24/09) and came many times both many innies and a couple of outties as she liked to call them.
Pretty fucking intense, literally.
On our next date we fucked in the upper balcony of a 3/4 full concert hall right in our aisle seats and then she sucked my cock in the bathroom at the post-party. Needless to say, I will never forget this wild one.
My legs were actually shaking at the memory as I typed this. Unfortunately, part of her inhibitions and her fluid retention resulted from copious amounts of alcohol she ingested which made all other parts of having any kind of continuing relationship unfathomable. She's doing better now, I hear and happy in a new romance. I wonder if he's a Navy Seal?
Monday, January 17, 2011
BATHROOM ENCOUNTER
MY 1st GAYFEST
So my bi EXP and her lesbian girlfriend invited me to come out to my first Gayfest, the annual street fair in the “GayTown” section of Philadelphia. A 4x3 block area is cordoned off and all of the bars and restaurants do a rousing business while street vendors sell everything from t-shirts festooned with gay-centric logos, toys and trinkets for the discriminating leather boys and girls, great food, cold beer, LGBTG social, health and political groups distributing pertinent info, travel clubs hawking all-gay getaways and cruises, you name it. There is live music around every corner, stand up comics, female impersonators on stages set up in the crossroads, beautiful couples and packs of sweet young things everywhere getting their gay pride on.
It was a wonderful day, walking hand in hand with these two fabulous women, grabbing a great slice of Philly pizza on the street while a small skirmish broke out between jilted and very drunk lovers…and an evening capping couple of hours dancing upstairs at Woody’s on 13th St. followed by some less than fabulous show tunes at a piano bar around the corner.
But the highlight for me was a long waiting line for a bathroom break early in the day. We'd stopped into a joint for a cocktail and pee break. While the girls bellied up to the bar for frosty beverages, I grabbed a spot in the line that ran around the corner of the bar, back towards the three individual unisex maxi-closets that housed the facilities. In line, a buzzed a vociferous hottie gave her equally stunning gf a sloppy kiss and then waited behind me bouncing around like she’d waited just a titch too long to run for the commode.
“C’mon, baby. Do your man stuff and push your way in front of these people. You’re a big guy, whose gonna stop ya.” I held my ground not wanting to ruin my consistently good bathroom karma. Eventually a couple of young twinks couldn't wait any longer and bolted and we eased up to the doors in no time.
Each of these rooms with their smoked glass door and fancy dark walnut walls, brass fixtures was A-list appointed and large enough for 2-3 friendly people to go into at a time though they were really supposed to house a single. So as I walked in, my "line wife" burst in behind me, locked the door and said, “Hope you don’t mind baby, but I’m bursting a gut.
"Look at you standing there with your dick out. It’s so easy for you guys, ya just aim and shoot. You don’t mind if I show you what we have to go through do ya…” She pulled down her pants, giving me a flash of her thin landing strip and squatted, hovering over the seat.
“See never touch a thing...Caught a glimpse did ya? Me too, sweet... You’re still pissing? I’ll probably be here a while but don’t leave ‘til I’m done okay.” I turned around and flushed but took my time tucking my now semi-hard cock back into my fly.
She looks directly at him and says, “We’ll I guess it’s good that I got nothing you want and you got nothing I want. We could get in trouble in here.” She just presumed I was gay and not interested in her. Little did she know how much I wanted to just stick my cock down her throat and shut her up for a few minutes. I’m a full-service guy. Hahaha…
I washed my hands and she was still making noise like a busted North Philly fire hydrant. She stands up, leans into me and sticks her hands under my running water with her pants still around her ankles. She eventually dries off, pulls her pants up over her perfect round ass and turns and throws her arms around my neck, gets on her tiptoes and gives me a nice soft, wet kiss. “Thanks for keeping me company, doll. See you in a half hour in a bar down the street I’m sure,” and BOOM, throws open the door and leaves me there with a huge …smile on my face.
So my bi EXP and her lesbian girlfriend invited me to come out to my first Gayfest, the annual street fair in the “GayTown” section of Philadelphia. A 4x3 block area is cordoned off and all of the bars and restaurants do a rousing business while street vendors sell everything from t-shirts festooned with gay-centric logos, toys and trinkets for the discriminating leather boys and girls, great food, cold beer, LGBTG social, health and political groups distributing pertinent info, travel clubs hawking all-gay getaways and cruises, you name it. There is live music around every corner, stand up comics, female impersonators on stages set up in the crossroads, beautiful couples and packs of sweet young things everywhere getting their gay pride on.
It was a wonderful day, walking hand in hand with these two fabulous women, grabbing a great slice of Philly pizza on the street while a small skirmish broke out between jilted and very drunk lovers…and an evening capping couple of hours dancing upstairs at Woody’s on 13th St. followed by some less than fabulous show tunes at a piano bar around the corner.
But the highlight for me was a long waiting line for a bathroom break early in the day. We'd stopped into a joint for a cocktail and pee break. While the girls bellied up to the bar for frosty beverages, I grabbed a spot in the line that ran around the corner of the bar, back towards the three individual unisex maxi-closets that housed the facilities. In line, a buzzed a vociferous hottie gave her equally stunning gf a sloppy kiss and then waited behind me bouncing around like she’d waited just a titch too long to run for the commode.
“C’mon, baby. Do your man stuff and push your way in front of these people. You’re a big guy, whose gonna stop ya.” I held my ground not wanting to ruin my consistently good bathroom karma. Eventually a couple of young twinks couldn't wait any longer and bolted and we eased up to the doors in no time.
Each of these rooms with their smoked glass door and fancy dark walnut walls, brass fixtures was A-list appointed and large enough for 2-3 friendly people to go into at a time though they were really supposed to house a single. So as I walked in, my "line wife" burst in behind me, locked the door and said, “Hope you don’t mind baby, but I’m bursting a gut.
"Look at you standing there with your dick out. It’s so easy for you guys, ya just aim and shoot. You don’t mind if I show you what we have to go through do ya…” She pulled down her pants, giving me a flash of her thin landing strip and squatted, hovering over the seat.
“See never touch a thing...Caught a glimpse did ya? Me too, sweet... You’re still pissing? I’ll probably be here a while but don’t leave ‘til I’m done okay.” I turned around and flushed but took my time tucking my now semi-hard cock back into my fly.
She looks directly at him and says, “We’ll I guess it’s good that I got nothing you want and you got nothing I want. We could get in trouble in here.” She just presumed I was gay and not interested in her. Little did she know how much I wanted to just stick my cock down her throat and shut her up for a few minutes. I’m a full-service guy. Hahaha…
I washed my hands and she was still making noise like a busted North Philly fire hydrant. She stands up, leans into me and sticks her hands under my running water with her pants still around her ankles. She eventually dries off, pulls her pants up over her perfect round ass and turns and throws her arms around my neck, gets on her tiptoes and gives me a nice soft, wet kiss. “Thanks for keeping me company, doll. See you in a half hour in a bar down the street I’m sure,” and BOOM, throws open the door and leaves me there with a huge …smile on my face.
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