Sunday, February 28, 2016

I'm back...

I’m back.

Ok, I haven’t written anything yet, but I pulled up the blog for the first time in almost two weeks.

I want to thank everyone for taking the time to comment here, through my email and on a number of the hook up sites. 

Those cyber hugs were appreciated. 

I will get back to work—when it doesn’t feel like work.

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Re-Post: Country Matters

Today is the actual service.  The eulogy got finished last night after a long day at the funeral home--and I actually like it.

I could use something slightly lighter to read, so--

This was among the earliest posts.  Enjoy it here.

Sunday, February 14, 2016

Re-post: Motel Gangbang--Two Holes-No Waiting

Okay, I need to do something to avoid writing the eulogy...

Before all this happened, a Detroit area man wrote to me on BBRT and told me he was  an avid reader.  He said his favorite entry was Motel Gangbang--Two Holes-No Waiting. It's over a year old and retains a good portion of the heat I felt at the time.  To find it click here.

And thanks to all the readers here, on my email and on various hook up sites who have sent me a note about my Dad.

 It helps.  It really does.

Friday, February 12, 2016


I will likely need to take a small break from writing. 

My Dad finally died last night—right after my last visit.

Thursday, he didn’t recognize me.  The damned disease finally took that, too.

I feel an incredible mixture of relief, pain, grief…and calm.

There is this undercurrent of feeling incredibly old, and in the next moment more like a lost kid.

There is much that needs to be done with my family.  I will be with them.  Mostly.

 But I love this family of readers…

Thank you for understanding.

If I have the time, I will repost a few encounters from the early years of the blog.

Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Tossing the Salad

I had a few more adventures in December.  I use the term ‘adventure’ pretty loosely for four of them rather fizzled.

I have already mentioned in passing the distinguished looking man who took me to fuck his girlfriend.  It wasn’t until we were on the steps to their room did he tell me that he and I couldn’t indulge in any bisexual play in front of her.  I was glad to finally get to DP a woman, but the entire affair lacked heat.  And I didn’t cum.  I lost count of how many times I got her off, but once my former cock sucker got off all over her thigh, I excused myself gracefully and hit the road.


I didn’t play again until my birthday.   I hoped that would be a day where I might have some good karma in the closest bookstore.  Well, not really, as it turned out.  It was so bad that night that I have no notes at all about what I did.


Christmas.  I was back in the Saginaw Bay area of Michigan.  I went back to the bookstore where I had played at Thanksgiving with the hot, hot man I had fucked years before, but who wasn’t prepared to take it again that day.  I whipped out my dick.  It was sucked by a couple of guys—one in particular who kept twisting it—as if his unscrewing it from my body would turn me on.  I’m sure I sucked some dick, too, but it was a pretty abysmal visit.  I didn’t cum—and my dick hurt!


Cam, who often throws motel parties in my area, invited me to come fuck a new bottom at his home.  I went.  The bottom seemed nice enough.  To my surprise, there were other men there—including a man with whom I have to do business.  Even after all this time, that kind of surprise can freak me out.  And it did.  I let this business associate suck me for a bit, and then I bolted.
Blue balled for the fourth time.


So just before New Year’s Eve, I went back to Northwest Indiana to do some clean up at the job site where I’d been in October and November.  I made sure that I had the afternoon off so I could visit the bookstore furnished with all those couches again.

And it was horrid.  It was a totally different crop of men—all afraid to play in front of me (or, after I hauled out my dick, to do more than jack me.)  But, as often happens in these situations, the arrival of one man changed everything…

Northwest Indiana--December, 2015

I am stroking in the corner watching pretty average porn.  I am recovering from having to ask a man to stop his hand job of me.  His calloused hands—and tight grip—felt like he was shredding my cock.  I add extra lube and stroke carefully.

The curtained entrance from the retail area moves.   Every head turns to size up the new man.  I like what I see.  He’s likely around my age or slightly younger.  He’s second generation Greek:  olive skin, a full head of salt and pepper hair, that large nose that makes my cock drool, an Eastern Orthodox gold cross dangles from a chain into a forest of chest hair.

And he wants me.  

He walks directly to my chair, kneels and takes me into his mouth.  He groans.  I groan.  His mouth is perfect.  He gives me exquisite head—only pulling off me once to say “I love your cock.”

And two men having sex has ignited the rest of the room.  Blow jobs are taking place in various corners.  Four other hands are all over me, caressing my chest, the stubble on my head, and my balls.
My cocksucker occasionally kneads his own crotch, but I have yet to see his dick.  Without pulling out of his mouth, I stand up, making the other guys back off.  I make a show of driving my dick into the hot Greek’s mouth.  He takes me with ease—with delight, actually. 

I sit back down.

He stands to give his knees a moment off the hard tile.  I reach over and unzip his corduroys.  He helps free a nice thick, uncut beauty of a cock.  I lean forward and suck him.  I need to sink to my knees, to get the right angle.  I actually love looking up at this virile daddy—whose wedding ringed hand is guiding my head down the length of his dick.

He finally pulls me off him.  I get up.  He leans in, his meaty, thick fingered hands grasping my butt cheeks.  “Give me this ass of yours,” he whispers in my ear.

I shake my head.  “I don’t get fucked.”

“I don’t want to fuck it with my dick—I want to tongue fuck it.”

I hesitate.  He grabs the waistband of my pants and pulls them down.  And the boxer briefs.  He turns me around and just looks at my hairy butt.  “Damn,” he says in my ear.  “I can’t wait to taste that ass.”

My cock is dripping.  I don’t know if I have ever had a married man eat my hole out.  But this guy is all but licking his lips. 

“Sit down again.”  I do, in the same chair.  I sit on the edge, shuck off my pants and lean back--my legs going up in the air.  He’s right there.  Inhaling my sweaty crack.  I close my eyes and wait for the first prod of his tongue.  And there it is.  We both groan simultaneously.  Guys come watch us.  Two men hold my legs aloft, rolling me back farther on the seat of the chair so he has better access.

He is doing everything right.  I am rock hard and stroking as I am prodded and licked and drilled by his tongue.

We only stop when his knees give out and I need to get some blood back in my feet.  We stand.  We kiss.  We hold on to each other.

“I want to eat you out until you shoot.”

“Let’s go to the long couch,” I suggest.  I have him lie down on it.  I am able to rest my thighs on the arm of the sofa and to totally smother his face with wet, hairy ass.   He drills deeper yet.  He is jerking now.  I am pretty sure he’ll finish before I do.

One of my leg holders comes over.  His cock is sticking out of his pants.  I bend and take him in my mouth.   This presses my ass down tighter on the Greek.  He moans again.   A man tries to suck him, but the Greek bats him away and goes back to rimming and stroking.

I get the holder’s load down my throat.  I stand up and allow the Greek to breathe a little easier.  “Do you like to be rimmed as much as you like eating it?” I ask.

He looks at me in wonder.  Has no one ever offered to burrow into his butt?

“Do you like to rim?”  There is definitely a hint of incredulity in his voice.  I tell him to get on his knees and lean over the back of the couch.  He removes his pants and boxers.  His ass is a mass of dark, tight curls.  I can’t wait to bury my face there. 

So I don’t wait.  It’s his turn to groan.  And he starts calling me names, telling me to eat him out, telling me how good it feels.  A man comes by and tries to stick his dick in the Greek’s mouth.  He refuses it and continues to beat his cock—the foreskin revealing and covering his crimson dick head.
He finally stops me with “I need to eat you again.”

He eats me on all fours, in the same position he was just in.

He eats me sitting on his face again.

But he loves my long legs in the air with me on my back.

“This will make me cum,” he tells me as he kneels again.

“Just let me know and I’ll swallow your load.”

“You want it?” 

I nod and offer my ass to his tongue.

He eats me with abandon.  His 5 o’clock shadow is actually beginning to chafe—but I can tell he’s close.  After one last deep tonguing, he mutters “Shit!” and stands up.  I roll forward, my mouth going right for his dick.  He squirts out a terrific load.  I take the first two spurts before I start shooting as well. 

We hug. 

He actually kisses me, unafraid of the remnants of his semen in my mouth.

Sunday, February 7, 2016

Bryant Gets Wet

Chicago—December, 2015

It was that time again; time to head to Chicago, suck some dick, fuck some hot ass and drink a ton of piss.  It was the December piss party in Chicago.  I took the sling, picked up Ryan on the way and headed into the city.  We set the sling up in the back corner, as usual, and changed into our jocks and boots.  It was odd to see the bar in full light as the organizers finished getting the plastic taped up to protect the bar and the pictures on the wall.  At 5pm the lights dimmed and the men started to stream in---every pun intended…

The plastic wading pool is getting a work out.  The first pig to strip naked has jumped right in.  Every man who enters seems to stop there and unload on him before getting undressed and getting more to drink from the bar.  The pig is in heaven, wallowing in the various streams.  He drinks some, lets some splash down his chest.  He arches up when another stream hits him from behind.  He revels in the hot liquid running down his ass crack.  Ten minutes into the party and he has had 15 guys hose him down.  He rolls around in the excess, until a playmate joins him, and they get down to sucking each other’s cocks while sitting in the puddle.

I am leaning against the bar, drinking my Gatorade.  I hadn’t added much to the scene.  I am not nearly as hydrated as I thought.  It’s so hard to time it as you drive into the city.  You don’t want to drink too much too soon and be caught in Chicago traffic with an over full bladder.  I reach around and top up my bottle with the water in one of the huge insulated jugs sitting on the bar.  It is cool, not iced, and I can feel it go right through my system. 

I move into the shadows behind the back screen, near the sling.  I’m soon joined by a big bear of a man who I recognize from countless parties.  I sit on the ledge and spread my legs.  He hunkers down between them and begins an expert blow job.  It is the perfect way to start the night.  He knows better than to work to get me off.  He takes his time and soon the blood is engorging my dick.  It swells to fill my old metal cock ring. 

Once he’s gotten me good and hard, he moves to my balls.  They are soon wet and sopping, the hair matted.  Then he goes under my balls—to my not so secret place.    

“Yeah,” I mutter.  “Get your tongue between the ring and my balls.”  He does.  It’s wonderful.  It makes me so hard I can’t even think about pissing for the moment.  I wait until he stands up—his beer can of a dick waggling at me.  I stand, too.  I concentrate and send a few jets of piss spewing out over his cock.  He sighs.  I sink to my knees and clean his cock of my piss. 

And then his second piss load of the night goes down my throat.

After a little more mutual sucking we go our separate ways and do it again with someone else.


I am by the sling.  I have not been able to convince the Latino who loves to be rimmed to get into it.  I do by the end of the night, but for the moment he demurs.  He simply bends in the corner and lets me tongue fuck his hairy hole.  And cover it with piss. 

When he asks for a break I see a new arrival at the bar, ordering a soda.  It’s Bryant—who I used to call Red Trunks in these pages, named for a favorite pair of underwear that saw many a piss party.  I go over to him and run my hand down the hairy crack revealed by his new ass-less briefs with a “Hey, stranger.”

He turns.  “Hey, you.”  He kisses me and gives the bulging pouch of my jock a friendly squeeze.  I look at him.  He’s tan from his travels—all 5’8” of him.  He looks even younger than his 33 years with his time away.

We talk about our lives, his trip and our favorite fucks since we saw each other last as we move to the sling.   Bryant grabs a stirrup and rattles the chains.  “You brought it.”

“I did—hoping you might be here.”

He doesn’t answer; he just puts his drink down and hops in.  “Open me up, stud.  I’ve missed your dick.”

I fall to my knees and lick his ass crack.  I poke my tongue as deeply as I can into him.  He must have just walked in—he’s fresh from a shower.  I can never decide if I like to get to him first or after he’s been loaded.  Anytime I can eat his ass, it’s fine with me.

Just as I’m about to stand and fuck, some man comes along and hoses Bryant’s crack while my mouth is right there.  I tongue fuck his hole so it is even wetter.  Bryant is calling me a pig and urging me to get my dick in him.

I stand.  I know to go slowly.  He opens—but it takes concentration from both of us—him to relax and me to not push too fast.  Once I’m balls deep, I stop and hold it.  I look right into his handsome face.  I know he’ll give me a sign when he’s ready.  I can feel his super tight hole relax. Bryant’s grimace relaxes, too.  “Fuck me.  I want this hole destroyed.”

I am ready to do my part.

I fuck.

I pull out and piss on his chest.

I fuck.

I eat his hole again, savoring his copious ass lube.

I let another man fuck him.

I taste the hole again.

I enter him.  Bryant pisses himself with a groan that can be heard throughout the bar.

I fuck him until he stops pissing and let a third man get his dick in him.

Bryant is loaded.  I eat a little and fuck the rest deeper into him.

He calls me a cum pig.

I stand up, lean across him and snowball some of the man’s load into Bryant’s mouth to shut him up.

We kiss deeply.

It’s early in the evening, but I know where I want to plant my load.

My cock enters him again…and again…

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Leather Pride

I am ball bustingly busy at work.  I am not finding the time I need to write. 

So let’s be whimsical…

A friend—the one who took many of the pictures of me in leather—had too much time on his hands and got creative with Photo Shop.

My dick at full mast—sporting the leather flag:

Monday, February 1, 2016

No Tell Motel

Detroit—December, 2105

The Cum Hound reached out to me.  We were overdue for a meet.  He thought at first he might drive to the playroom, but it worked out to be easier for me to meet him at our usual sleazy motel in a Detroit suburb.

On the way there, I stopped to see my Dad at his assisted living facility.  There was still a glimmer of recognition as I greeted him.  We quickly slipped into a companionable silence as he now sleeps most of the day away.  I woke him in time for his early lunch and I slipped out while all his attention was switched to his grilled cheese sandwich. 

The motel was not busy.  Yet.  Plenty of parking.  I had brought the sling along.  CH helped me move the table and side chair, making room for it right by the door.  I set it up as he finished in the shower.  I ditched my clothes save for my jock and combat boots.  I watched the TIM porn on his computer.  It made my jock pouch chub nicely.

The bathroom door opened.  “I have two guys coming to load me for you.”  He mentioned a name of a man who has often played with us.  The other was a young Arab—whose cock excited the Cum Hound.  We didn’t wait for them—and a good thing, since neither showed up…

“Get up here and suck my dick.”

The Cum Hound, naked and radiating heat from the shower, crawls between my spread legs.  I push his face into my mounded jock.  He inhales deeply, sighs and begins mouthing the worn and stained fabric.  “Fuck,” he mutters, deep in the back of his throat.  I let him get my cock out—it’s beginning to hurt in the cramped pouch.  He swallows it down hungrily.

“Get it good and wet—it’s all the lube you’re getting.”

CH moans again and I pull out of his mouth. 

“Get on all fours—right by the edge.” 

He does.  I get up off the bed and kneel.  I eat his freshly showered hole.  It’s still sweet and slightly floral from the cheap soap.  I dig in.  CH groans.  I am so horned.  I need a hole.  I stand up and press in.  I slide all the way in in one stroke.  CH clutches a pillow and tells me to fuck him.

I keep a measured stroke.  Increasing it ever so slowly.  Suddenly the sound of my hips on his ass are matching the thumping of the fuck in the video.  I slow down. 



And do it all again.

This time when I pull out, I get up on the bed.  “Clean my cock,” I tell him.  I don’t have to ask twice.  He’s eager to taste his ass juices and my pre-cum.  I let him lap and swallow. 


The Cum Hound is in it and ready.  He’s one of those men who can get his ankles in the stirrups by himself—and with ease.  I taste his hole again.  He’s a self luber.  His hole is slick and ready.  I stand up and line myself up.

“Fuck me, Sir.”

I move in, agonizingly slow, even to me.  I want to just bang it into his guts. But I don’t for I love watching his eyes as his ass gets fuller and fuller and…I’m home.  I grind into him.

“…So good…” he mutters.  His eyes are now closed—concentrating on the throbbing flesh in his ass chute.  I stay shoved deep and twist his nipples.  He howls and I begin fucking. 

I am keeping a steady drilling going.  He feels great.  In one movement, I pull out and start pissing.  It coats his chest.  CH opens his mouth—but the big stream that would have reached it is now reduced to covering his pubes.

I spend a long time licking it off his upturned ass.  I tongue some into his hole.  I catch the drips off his nuts.  I even suck his cock until it is piss free.  I spit his pre-cum into his hole—and add my cock.
I fuck until the chains rattle.


We break.

He checks his phone and both men have at least cancelled with a note.

We watch the porn. 

I fuck him with the Hound on all fours again.

“Let’s get back in the sling.”  I know he has to either get back to work—or perhaps to his boyfriend.
I eat his hole, stroking all the time.  I really need to blow a load.  I eat and stroke so it will take no time at all.

I rise.

I enter.

Three or four strokes.

I look in his eyes again.  They tell me exactly how much he wants my load.

I erupt...