September 29, 2005
The boy has been busy finding men for he and I to play with. (I think I like having a pimp.) One of them wants to ditch the usual SIR/boy thing and call me BOSS. I’ve been trying to figure out what I should call him. “boy” doesn’t seem quite right for the workplace. I asked my friend RAMMER009, since he’s more experienced in this kind of thing. He replied that if a guy calls me BOSS I should definitely call him Rochester! I thought I would die laughing.
September 26, 2005
Cigar sex, Part 2
Now where was I?
We switched. The boy knelt in front of me. He put a pair of tit clamps on my nipples and attached another pair to the chain and wound it around my balls. He used his spit to stroke me. With every stroke my nipples got a tug. Nice. The boy asked if SIR could take what he was dishing out. I sure could! We shared more cigar smoke. The boy would open his mouth hopefully every time I took a big puff.
Again the boy hoisted himself up and sat on my cock. He really wanted my load. He was positioned farther back on my legs so my dick was in him kind of sideways. It felt fucking great and I got really close.
We sat next to each other on the couch stroking each other’s dicks with SKOAL spit. The boy would get up every couple of minutes to concentrate on getting me off, playing with my nipples and again talking to me about giving me what I was giving him. “Fuck you, SIR!” he would say while I was fucking his hand. “Fuck me, boy? Fuck you!”
I wanted to fuck the boy’s ass again. I used the cuffs and some dog clips to bind his hands and feet to each other. The boy could just pull with his arms to raise his hairy hole up off the sofa nicely. I couldn’t really get comfortable and was losing my erection trying, so I gave up.
We ended up lying next to each other, in opposite directions on the couch, stroking each other. The boy’s filthy mouth and slick pumping got me rock hard again. Even trying by myself, though, I just couldn’t shoot for him. Damn.
We called it a night. The boy cleaned himself up with just a wet towel, leaving the smell of sweat, dip, and stale cigar smoke on himself for the ride home. I slept with the same stink on me.
September 24, 2005
Cigar sex, Part 1
Same old story: a guy I’ve been chatting with for a while. Turns out I had this guy, CigarBottom who was sexy, confused with another cigar guy who was not so appealing. Then one night I took another look at his picture and made a date for last Sunday night. He lives in West Chester which is a good hour from here and not somewhere I can get to very easily, so he came here.
Our online chats were full of “SIR” this and “boy” that which I can easily type but I’m not really comfortable with saying that kind of shit out loud. Maybe someday I will be but it ain’t today. I told him in advance that I wasn’t a very vocal SIR and he was cool with it—or said he was anyway. He said he’d arrive with a butt plug inserted and a bag full of stuff including cigars, tit clamps and wrist and ankle cuffs. And so he did. Early.
I wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. I sat on the sofa and ordered him to light a cigar for me. I smoked a little bit and let him take a couple of puffs. Then I told him to get to work sucking my dick while I sucked on my stogie. “Yes, SIR!” He got on his knees in front of me and worked on my cock. He worked on the head for a while and licked my balls and shaft before he started swallowing it whole. He was spectacularly good at it and looked like he was really enjoying himself. So was I. He put his mouth on mine to accept some cigar smoke whenever I told him.
I wanted to see his ass and I told him to stand up, turn around and take off his pants. Of course, the boy did as he was told. He bent over, bracing himself on a chair, giving me a nice view of his beautiful hairy ass. I twisted the butt plug around and he groaned, saying “Thank you, SIR.” I slowly pulled it out and pushed it in again, sometimes just a little, sometimes all the way. I took it out and set it aside. I leaned forward and blew cigar smoke into his hole. I spit on my fingers and rubbed his hole, getting it nice and wet. I rubbed the cigar on it and stuck it in so it stayed there smoking for a while before I removed it.
As ordered he turned around and got on his knees again. He tongued my nipples of a while and we kissed. My pits got a good cleaning and we kissed some more so I could taste it. He licked my neck and we rubbed our goatees together. Then CigarBottom got back on my dick and made it very wet. He climbed up on the sofa and lowered himself on my cock. Ahhh. I reached over, grabbed a air of his nipple clamps and put them on him. I held the chain and every time he raised himself off my dick, they’d pinch. He wanted only to smoke used my cigars and this stogie was just about done, so I stuck the chewed and wet butt in his mouth. “Thank you, SIR!” I buried my face in his pits while he rode me. He begged me for my load but I wasn’t ready yet. I told him to get up.
I knew he liked “edging” and I was ready to do some work. The nipple clamps were removed. I stuck a hunk of SKOAL in my mouth. With his wrist cuffs I secured his hands behind his back and told him to sit down. His dick was getting hard. I dripped some dip spit on his cock and started stroking. He talked as if I was torturing him with SKOAL backwash and said he would not shoot until I told him to. I squeezed the head of his cock really hard while I stroked it. No spit cup was needed because I used all the dip spit on his cock. I kissed him and pushed the used SKOAL in his mouth. As I continued to work the head of his dick he requested a spit cup. I got him one. Whenever he used it, I took it from him and poured it on his cock for lube. “Fuck! Not the spit again!”
To be continued…
September 23, 2005
Spam of the day
Subject: BREAKING NEWS: Anaylists Find New Microsoft Office 12 a Waste of Money
September 22, 2005
The Times goes cruising
“The parking lot’s use as a gay cruising spot goes back at least to the 1960’s, several older men said. ‘I spent the halcyon days of my youth here,’ one said. ‘This place was paradise back then.’”
Read all about it here. Thankfully, they don’t “blame” the internet or mention by name the web site where men find out about cruising spots. In fact the article is completely non-judgemental and that’s nice. Unfortunately, they do point out actual locations which always ends up being bad news for cruisers.
A mallrat in Bohemia
From a ManHunt profile:
Hot people, fast cars, and nakedness is what I am looking for...
Looking for some fun... of many varietys. I tend to enjoy the company the sophisticated, and I find myself attracted to the bohemian philosophy. I work at Express...
September 18, 2005
Man of the week
September 16, 2005
Man of the week
A previous man of the week, Trom from WorldLeathermen has posted some new pics. It’s unbelievable to believe, but he’s hotter than ever.
I was asked to tell my “story” at an AA meeting tonight. I have been sober since 1987. For the very first time I wasn’t nervous. Beats me why. Of course, I forgot most of the really significant events of my life, so I’ll bore you with one of them here.
My mother had COPD from years of smoking. Her illness was long and difficult as I’m sure mine will be. The last time she was taken to the hospital, in 1999, my stepfather, Ed, allowed them to put her on a respirator even though she had a DNR. After she regained consciousness, was obviously pretty angry about it and blamed my stepfather for the fact that she was still alive and so uncomfortable. I will never forget the first time I saw her on that horrible machine. I literally couldn’t talk. Every time I tried to ask the nurse a question, I would hyperventilate and the tears would flow.
We came to realize that this episode left her with a very small bit of brain damage. It wasn’t bad but she was having trouble remembering times of day. Since my mother was never anything but cooly efficient, I’m sure this really bothered her. She was a great person, very warm, loving, smart and lots of fun, but she expressed her love with actions and wasn’t big on extravagant shows of emotion. Consequently, whatever she thought was happening at the time, she tried not to let on. It was obviously difficult for her to contain her anger at this point, though. I swear, she didn’t speak,or try to, at least,to Ed for weeks. Thankfully for him, the respirator made her unable to speak.
I went to the hospital every day. (I had a cool Miata and an even cooler boss at the time.) One Sunday, after she had been on the respirator for a couple of weeks, she wrote me a note. “Tell them to take me off this thing and let me go home to die.” Gosh, thanks for choosing me to take care of this, mom. My sister, Eileen, is a fucking nurse but I get to be the lucky go-between. Sigh. Suddenly I had to act like a grown-up and, amazingly, it took no effort at all. First I asked my boyfriend, Cecilio, to go home. I’m sure he was grateful.
I found the doctor and explained what my mother wanted as well as the DNR situation. I got lucky. The doctor did was nice and understanding. (At the beginning of this hospitalization a doctor said to my sister, “I know this must be difficult for you but…” Eileen interrupted him with an explosive “How DARE you talk down to me, you pompous ass! I’ve been a nurse in a cardiac ward for ten years!” It was fucking hilarious.) He explained to me that, if we left my mom on the respirator for another week or so, she could really improve and might buy herself a good amount of time. If we disconnected her that day, she probably wouldn't even make it home. Well, that certainly made everything a lot less abstract. I asked him if he would explain that to my mother and I told him that he should be direct and not try to protect her from the facts.
When he told mom the possible consequences of disconnection, her eyes widened. She couldn’t hide her shock and fear. It was obvious she hadn’t realized how close to death she'd been in the first place. I asked her if she wanted me to call my sister. Of course, she said to call her and, of course, we all finally decided to keep the machine running. Whew. Crisis averted. I thought Ed was going to faint in relief.
My mom was in the hospital for a couple more weeks and then in a pulmo rehab for a while. They released her when she had made as much progress as she was able and they sent her home. She lasted a few weeks and was actually able to walk around, cook and pay bills for a while. I was amazed at her energy. Eileen and I decided that we should spend as much time with my parents as possible to help out. Ed, sweet as he is, was too overwhelmed and panicked to do it by himself. My brother, perhaps the angriest person alive, decided he wanted no part of it, the fucking coward.
It was shockingly easy for me to help my mother with things that I thought would be impossible for me to do, like helping her get on and off the toilet or getting her dressed and undressed. She certainly had more embarrassment about it than I did and I can’t say I blame her. She never liked to appear weak. (Years before, when I told her I was HIV positive, she waited until I left the room to cry and I didn’t politely return until she was done.) This was actually one of her better qualities. She took the three of us and left my alcoholic father to raise us on her own in the early 60’s when this just wasn’t done. Afterwards she endured incredible, insane harassment from him without ever showing us that she was afraid as she surely must have been. She was incredibly brave.
Eventually, she just ran out of strength and asked us angrily to just leave her the hell alone. She was dead within a day. We were all grateful for the extra time we got with her. (My sister has some issues with the timing to this day but that’s another, weirder story altogether.)
So what was the point of bringing this up at an AA meeting? Well, as depressing and sad and horrible as this period of time was, I treasure it like nothing else. I was able to help and comfort my family in ways I never could have if I had been drinking. I was able to be an adult when I had to be without even thinking about it. My parents and I had long since resolved our issues and we were able to spend time with each other comfortably. My mother's death didn’t leave me with things I regret never having said. We could enjoy the things we had in common and respect our differences. We were friends. What more could I ask?
OK, was that sappy enough??
September 11, 2005
I won’t even mention his glasses
This is why people like Grizzly Man get eaten.
I'm a total ass-pig pussyboy in Pittsburgh, PA. I'm mainly into fisting and big, butt-busting dildos, but also like WS, spanking, light B&D. I especially love VERBAL guys! The more dirty/lewd/filthy the talk is, the better! If you prefer quiet or silent assplay, then I'm not for you.
Repeat after me: My pets are NOT HOT.
September 10, 2005
And Jane Fonda invented outer space
More from gay.com chat:
DraynMyCawk: the traditional christmas, which comes from 1930s movies, is based on what was then were most Americans lived.....the midwest and northeast
DraynMyCawk: what's that Jimmy Stewart movie they run every year?
TheHighStrungLoner: funny, i thought charles dickens wrote about it long before the 30s
TheHighStrungLoner: so it was probably going on long before he wrote a christmas carol
DraynMyCawk: you're probably right again frank
DraynMyCawk: I suppose it was.
DraynMyCawk: but the would mean people would have to read
DraynMyCawk: did they make movies of any dicken's novels?
TheHighStrungLoner: people used to read
TheHighStrungLoner: before tv
September 8, 2005
“The good news is—and it’s hard for some to see it now—that out of this chaos is going to come a fantastic Gulf Coast, like it was before. Out of the rubbles of Trent Lott’s house—he’s lost his entire house—there's going to be a fantastic house. And I’m looking forward to sitting on the porch.”
--George W. Bush
I wonder if he means Barney and Betty Rubble?
September 7, 2005
From gay.com chat:
Sandorf: plus, no one can get me off orally. heheheh
SingleMonogamousBear: Someone can get me off orally if he's in retail and sells me an item below cost.
September 4, 2005
Help a refugee
September 3, 2005
How did it know?
September 1, 2005
So, later that same night, I chatted with a fairly recent online acquaintance from South Philly. I’ll call him The Plumber. I told him about my abortive attempt at sex during my earlier trip to his neighborhood. I asked him where he was located. He said, “Oh, I was in the next room!” What a small town.
I’m going to try to condense this one down to the bare essentials. He drove over here and was much better looking than his pictures. Very sexy. He brought a bag. I’m not sure what else was in it but he did take out a hefty supply of tina, a glass pipe and a butane torch. He prepared and smoked a pipeful of crystal before we got down to business. I have to say that The Plumber was charming, personable, smart and funny. I was instantly comfortable around him and he was really easy to talk to. A really nice guy.
When he was done, I put my arm around him and started playing with his nipple through his shirt. We kissed for a while and he was very good at it. He moved down my chest and bit my nipple through my t-shirt. We took off our shirts and kissed some more. He had great smelling pits, not overpowering, though. We lie facing each other on the sofa and he kept his mouth on my nipple for a long, long time. He was intensely into it and it made me very hard. We took breaks to kiss, hug and touch each other.
The Plumber indicated he wanted me to sit up sideways on the sofa with my legs stretched out. He got between my legs and started sucking my dick. He concentrated on the head for a while and then, when he moved on to the shaft, asked me to take out my PA. He was so good that I didn’t mind at all. (I later had to frantically search for the ball later but I eventually found it.) Then he really got into working on my cock. Up and down the shaft with his lips and tongue, deep throating, spitting on it. He rubbed his goatee along the whole length and on my balls. His unbuttoned pants were slipping down and I kept staring at his beautiful ass. This sight, along with the great blow job, got me close to shooting twice but he would slow down and just hold the head between his lips. Then it happened. He fell asleep with my dick in his mouth! It took me a minute to realize because his head lowered so very slowly.
Oddly, I was very comfortable with his head resting on my crotch. While he slept, I stroked his hair and thought about what to do. I let him sleep for about 15 minutes, woke him up and told him he should probably go. He didn’t seem bothered by it at all. I may be a fool but I let him fire up another pipe before he left and said I’d like to try again. What in the world is wrong with me?
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