the things they say about him

musings of a sexual libertine

Thursday, October 26, 2006

the wonder (bread) fuck

H2 and i are at his job. it's after hours, so everyone is cleared out. he works at a non-profit - so the offices aren't fancy. the room we are currently in has a lot of side-by-side computers, so there's not a lot of chance of privacy if you work there. not that i need it for what we're up to.

H2 is an "all-american boy". 6'2 with a reasonably nice build - he's no gym rat but he's toned in the places that count. with skin like milk and big brown eyes, he looks 22 at the most - where in reality he's pushing 28. he's not quite twinky looking - but definitely looks more wonder bread than reefer. but i also realize it's these clean-cut types who will surprise you the most in the sack. i look wholesome...and i'm a total fucking whore.

what are we doing this office, you ask? currently, H2 is stripped naked in nothing save my jock strap. he asked me to wear it while working out so it would be sweaty and used. despite the cold linoleum, he's on his back, long legs thrown over my shoulders.

he's taking my raw cock like a pro.

let's rewind so i can show you how we got there.

we met on the ubiquitous manhunt a few days earlier. i had heard about H2 through two other tops. and a bottom i knew had taken the pix he had on his profile (in said pictures, he was getting plowed by a hulking leather daddy). i figured, why the hell not?

we meet for a drink. ten minutes in, its obvious we're both horny as shit. his office is right around the corner; amazingly, he suggested we fuck there.

and interestingly, he shows me around where he works. then we move into the room with the computers - and all niceties evaporate. we go at it. and even's rough. we're shoving each around - careening into desks - kissing all the while.

eventually, his shirt is off and his pants are bunched around his shoes (still on). i have him on all fours so i can rim him. i love to rim. and if the guy i'm rimming is into it - really, truly into it - it gets my dick hard. there's nothing like a guy twisting and whimpering from a good rim job; because you know that if they enjoy a tongue in their ass - they will go fucking crazy once you stick your dick in them.

so i'm rimming him. but not just licking his hole, i work my tongue into his hole. i don't know how he managed it right after work, but his hole is spotless. and inviting. as i work his ass, i play with his balls and the hot-spot between his balls and his hole.

also? i brought some accoutrement.

i work a dildo into his ass while alternately teasing it with my finger. with the right guy, i totally get into assplay. and this guy has flipped my assplay switch. i take long, slow strokes with the dildo - transfixed by how his hole is tightly puckered around it. just looking at that, i know his hole is going to be tight.

and it ever. my dick (8+ inches for those keeping track) curves downward. so unless the guy is a skilled power bottom, i've learned to stick it in slow initially so as not to hit the wrong sort of spot. due to that, i inadvertently learned that the a slow stroke (typcially) drives the boys quite wild. especially when it's raw.

i slide it in to mid-shift. pull it out - and then slide it in all the way. then back out so only my dick's head is ringed by his hole. and the heat from his hole on my bare dick as i drive it in is just incredible. he's audibly moaning. sweat beads have popped up on his back.

eventually, we get his shoes and his pants from off his ankles. he likes to be moderately Sub'ed and told what to do, so i strap a leather dog collar around his neck, put him in my jock, and tell him he's going to be face fucked. and he swallows it without a single gag reflex. his mouth is almost as good as his ass: hot, wet and hungry. and doing an excellent job at keeping me hard. at times, i push his head away - and swing my hard-on around for him to work to get. other times, i slap his mouth and face with it.

after a bit, i can't take it. the urge to drill his ass takes over. this time, i ease in for a moment - and then plunge right in. again, full strokes - all the way out to the very head, and then so far in my balls slap his ass. he's loudly groaning. plus, he earns points for reaching behind and grabbing my balls at just the right moments.

we try a few positions: doggy (my favorite). standard. bent 90 degrees on a table. but it's during 'standard' where we both shift into overdrive. we're kissing as we fuck. he moans. i moan. he starts flexing his hole and in response i pump harder. and we're both sweating - at one point he stops kissing me to lick some sweat off my shoulder.

i feel myself ready to pop. i pull my mouth away from his.

ME: ass or face, sport. your call.
H2: you promise to cum in my mouth next time?
ME: (reeeal close, but holding on) sport, if we do this next time i'll dump it wherever you need it.
H2: dump it in my ass, man. seed my hole.

which is exactly what i do. afterwards, we play around some more, slowly building back up to him cumming. using the dildo, i play with him slowly until he shoots his load.

we clean up the mess in the room, and while dressing, make small talk. he asks if we can meet up once he gets back from hilton head. i'm like, "fuck, yeah." and then, he starts to get shy. he's back to being wonder bread.

H2: maybe...maybe we can try some...stuff...when i get back.
ME: name your poison.
H2: (blushes) um...y', pig stuff.
ME: (enjoying this) yeah?...
H2: like, maybe...piss? and um...felching?"

it's always the quiet ones.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

the bottom('s) line

i met me friend, S1, for lunch to have some thai. i love S1. simply put, she's awesome. she's all stylish clothes, afro puff, and arid observations.

"do you get fucked?" she asked, after taking a sip of soda.
"hello. nice to meet ya."
she laughs. "i know. sorry. but we've never talked about it."
"why do you want to know?"
"curiosity," she shrugs. "so. do you get fucked?"
"why not?"

i pause. take a bite of my orange chicken.

"tried it. hated it."

i was 18. he was 38 y/o. this was during the dark ages of the internet (no aol, no, no manhunt). we met on an online 'bulletin board'. he was only seven inches - but wide. and impatient. and he wasn't so much excited about fucking an 18 y/o than the opportunity to brag about it to his online cronies. (which, incidentally, he did).

"would you ever?"
"never? never ever?" today? she's lois lane.
"the list of guys who are allowed to top me is short. for a dude to successfully top me, i would need vows of everlasting devotion. at the very least a credit check."

she laughs because she knows i'm serious.

we discuss the suspects. (butt) pirates from treasure island or the euro(trashy) tops from machofucker. chris meloni. henry rollins.

that said, there is one individual that i would bend over for with no questions asked - nor credit check required:

doyle wolfgang von frankenstein (of the misfits). i've often entertained a fairly hardcore scenario of having him farm me out as a pig bottom to his bandmates. me, in boots, collar and a jock - chained doggy style on top of an amp. they take multiple turns: verbal, piss, 'forced' fucking. and he, naturally, would have first rights to plug me and last rights to breed me. with his bandmates' cum (and spit. and sweat.) as lube.

for obvious reasons, i don't disclose this in the discussion.

"for you - that's a really obvious list," she finally says.
"i'm nothing but reliable," i tell her.

despite being secretive about the whole "wanting to be a cum dump for a hardcore punk band", i don't pussy-foot when it comes to my regular sexual m.o. getting off is not just an impulse for me. it's serious business. and i may look boy-next-door, but there is a 95% chance i will nail you if you look a criminal. otherwise you drop down to 90% (however, a big dick re-increases your chances).

after a few minutes, she finally says: "you just have issues in allowing someone to take sexual control."

i've heard this argument before. and i'm usually dismissive of it. however, coming from S1 i consider it worth discussing as she's (a) hetero + woman and (b) not saying this while simultaneously trying to insert.

i'm actually okay with letting a dude 'drive' in a non-topping capacity. i've let a few bottoms tie me up and/or blindfold me. and i love when a bottom is an aggressive bitch. that gets my blood hot and my dick harder. i've even Sub'ed a few times.

but of course there's a caveat. as long as i'm the one doing the poking in the end (har, har) - it's all good in the hood.

Friday, October 13, 2006

slap happy

with P1 on the couch. talking. i'm draped over him - our noses nearly touching.

during the conversation he gets lippy. not annoying-lippy, but playful in a manner you can only do with someone you know really well. or someone you fuck regularly. we fall into both slots.

as a result of said lippy-ness. i give him a light slap on the bottom. again - playful in a way you can only do in a specific type of relationship.

immediately, he's lippy again. but this time, even more so. whack - goes my hand on his bottom. there's a hint of a smile around his mouth.

this time, i slap his bottom without provocation. he looks me dead in the eye. daring me. my hand goes back to his ass. once more - with feeling.

he openly grins.

i lean back and away from him - and give a grin of my own.

"nuh-eh," i say, wagging a finger at him. "you gotta work for the rest of 'em."

Saturday, October 07, 2006

libertine's stock market

margaret atwood: i'm cheating by putting her on a 'rising stock' list because i always dig her work. everyone knows M.A for "the handmaid's tale"; but everyone should be required to read "the robber bride". it takes motifs from the "the robber bridegroom" folk tale and completely turns it on its head. it's a fucking phenomenal read about growing up, growing old and thwarted revenge.

also read: "alias grace" and "cat's eye" (no, not that one).

'worked up so sexual' (the faint). i dare you to say you can't help but a: dance and b: be drawn into the story the lyrics tell. if you can't do both - you have no soul. for real.

eric dane: enough said.

dateline nbc's "to catch a predator" stings: alternately hilarious and gross to see these fuckwits get caught with (wanting) their pants down. it amazes me that there are so many weirdos out there.

and it is so fucking embarrassing when they catch a gay pedophile. way to perpetuate, freaks (i'm talkin to you, mark foley).

antibacterial liquid: because even sluts can be germ-phobic.

myspace: ugh. i can't bring myself to get a myspace profile. it's friendster designed with unix. only uglier. and viewing a profile is like going to a college house party. the sort of house party where dave matthews is blaring from the speakers, drunk girls are doing boilermaker chug-a-lugs, and every conversation starts with 'what's your major?' annoyance.

express check out lanes: the lines are always 10 people deep. it takes more time to get out the store than via the conventional lane. and you inevitably are behind someone who can't grasp the 'express' concept and takes 20 minutes to scan a bottle of paprika and a package of watercress.

mtv: either i'm getting old(er) or mtv's programming is getting decidely stupider as times goes on. the few times i've watched their shows i swear i've felt my brain cells atomize. i will cop to watching "next" when it's on - but everything else sucks my asshole inside out.

x3: x-men united dvd commentary: hey brett ratner, when the two writers of the movies are doing commentary on why they wrote certain scenes, please shut the fuck up and let them finish their sentences.

and while you were no joel schumacher, you know fanboys hate you for fucking up the franchise. don't squander the opportunity to allow fans to know why scenes were written in a certain way because you need to talk over the writers. poor attemps to justify your dick size is always a bad move, hack.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

the brush up

on the train, coming home. worked late (very late), so seriously cranky.

at the stop that allows blue/red line transfers, the car i'm in gets flooded with people. a guy with a suitcase sits next to me. goatee. hairy arms. buzzed head. it's been humid the past couple of days: i get a vague whiff of (non-offensive) perspiration off him.

the moment he sits down - snap - i get a hard-on. like granite. my messenger bag is in my lap so i'm unfazed. i continue reading my book.

the train continues. i begin to have a hard time focusing on my book. the guy is so clearly in my nose. again, he doesn't smell funky or unwashed. just unquestionably male. out of the corner of my eye i find myself inspecting his forearms. they are slightly freckley and dusted with reddish blond hair

at one point, i glance over. no reaction. i contemplate 'brushing' my leg against his - but decide it's too pervy. i look over again - no reaction.

i shake it off, continue to read. but every so often i cut cut my eyes across. nothing. he hasn't shifted once in posture. he seems completely and absolutely oblivious.

a few stops later, he grabs his suitcase and gets off. i glance up at him, keeping my face neutral.

he looks dead at me and smiles widely. i wink.

he heads to the door, i look back down at my book but train my eyes to see what he does next. as he exits, he turns around to stare. i smile (no teeth).

he heads outside. as he passes the window where i'm most visible he waves. i nod and smile (still no teeth).

i continue on my way home.