Friday, October 31, 2014

Closed For Cruising

On the Shore of Lake Ontario—September, 2014

I headed to the Niagara Wine Country the next day.  I pitched camp, blew up the large air mattress and carefully unrolled my sleeping bag in what the manufacturers optimistically called a “three man tent.” 

The moment I was done, I headed to the gay cruising park with a thick novel to read between blowjobs.  But when I got there, there was a chain across the drive.  Closed.  You could still park across the street, under some trees, and walk in.  I did.  Only one dedicated dog walker was around—a middle aged woman who was not looking for a quick hook up in the brush.  Gay men didn’t seem to want to make that much commitment—actually walk a couple hundred yards into their old stomping grounds.

The cliffs along Lake Ontario were eroding steeply—likely the reason for the closure.  One huge tree had fallen into the lake below.  The grass was no longer cut by the park service and was knee high this late in the summer. The paths into the secluded areas for play were still there among the trees away from the lake, but they also showed real signs of disuse. 

I walked out and went to the local library instead.  I chatted with James, the older man I had met in the park a few times over the years.  He told me what I had guessed—gay men had given up on the space—and there was no new site to take its place.  Occasionally, James had a fuck buddy meet him there, but he bemoaned the death of his only cruising spot.

Of course he and I met there twice.  It would have been three times during my week in the area, but our signals were crossed the first time.  I said I’d park and wait for him, thinking he’s bicycle past me in my car and then into the park.  Nope.  He went directly to the old entrance and I didn’t see him ride in.

We figured it out after another set of emails.  The sex was honestly nothing that special—though I was happy to relieve the man of a load each time—a man who rarely had any other contacts and was so in need.  And I did like his soft hands caressing my ears and the back of my head as I sucked him off.

And, also as before, he needed to talk. 

I listened. 

And nodded.

It mostly made me want to pack up and get back to Toronto.  And I did—for Cum Union.  

Cumming next post…

Monday, October 27, 2014

Hairy Bathhouse Pig

Toronto—September, 2014

My annual trip to Canada began on the first weekend of the month.  My first stop was a Saturday night at (arguably) the best bathhouse in Toronto.  I checked into my single room---once I could find it in the maze of look-alike doors in the low lit corridors.  I laced my boots back up, squirmed into my yellowing white jock and added my left wrist cuff.  I went off to explore.

There are three public play spaces if you don’t count the sauna and steam room.  Towards the front, opposite the wet area, there is a slurp ramp in a room that is almost pitch black.  At the ramp itself, there is enough light to see who is standing on the upper level and offering their cocks through the glory holes.  On the main floor, it’s darker.  There is a fuck bench there, too, hidden in an alcove.

In the middle of the complex is a mini maze.  There are two fuck benches there, tucked away, and a public sling that sits in the middle of it all.

The final area is really nothing more than a blacked out corridor.  There are maybe three cubicles with doors that have glory holes between them and some cut out to the main corridor.  Having made the circuit, I wanted some action…

I start back on the slurp ramp.  I push my jock pouch through a hole.  One faceless man noses at my cock, but decides it isn’t worth sucking to hardness.   He moves away.  The room is deserted.  I hang out for a moment or so.  A few very young guys parade through—they are sightseeing, not looking to play.  No one else. 

I check out the sling where a young Latin had been getting fucked on my first tour.  Empty.

I go into the corridor of booths.  They all seem empty.  I sit on the bench at one end.  Guys in towels move past me.  I am so deep in the shadows I suspect they don’t even see there is anyone here.  A tall and lanky Latino comes through the curtain wearing cut-off jeans.  He hangs out opposite, playing with his cock through the denim.  My cock stretches the jock pouch into a nice mound.  Across the way the jeans are now open.  He’s stroking a cock longer and thinner than mine.  He plays with the hood, rarely skinning it all the way back.  He moves toward me.  He grabs my head and guides it onto his brown meat.  I suck—making sure my tongue and lips pull the foreskin back so I connect with the ultra-sensitive head.  He groans.   He holds my ears and pumps into me.  He suddenly pulls out.  Have I gotten him too close?  He turns and grinds his lightly haired ass into my face. 

Oh, God.

I tongue his hole—working deeply into his tight pucker.  He pushes back onto my tongue, fucking himself.  Just as smoothly, he turns and feeds me his cock again.

Back and forth I go—servicing both sides of him—however he chooses.

At one point, he pulls his spit sodden hole away from my tongue and lowers it to my cock.  He takes my thick head with a grunt, but never stops in lowering himself all the way down.  He rides me, in total control, for about 30 seconds.  He stands up, turns and unloads in my mouth with one long sigh. 
He grins at me and I never see him again.

I move back to the slurp ramp.  With no one on either side of the ramp I care about, I notice a slightly bearish man on the fuck bench.  I move behind him.  There are no half opened condoms balanced on his ass.  He wants it raw.  I kneel and lick at the crevice between his full cheeks.  He squirms—but it feels like it’s more to get away than in pleasure.  I stand up.  I lube my cock and enter him.  He loves the first half—when I stop to let him get used to it.  As I push in more, I can tell he’s surprised and seemingly not pleased.  I hold, fully in.  A man appears and blocks what little light there is coming into our alcove.  The new arrival kneads his jock pouch as I begin to fuck.

But the guy on bench is having none of it.  “You’re too big,” he whines.  The observer reaches down and his fingers encircle my cock.  He grunts and pulls me out of the bottom on the bench and swiftly turns, offering me his ass.  I slip right in.  His ass is perfect—tight and velvety.  He grunts his approval and says, “Come to my sling room.”  He pulls off me, grabs my cock and leads me towards his room.

We hit the corridor and I can finally see what he looks like.  He is just under 6 foot tall, with big broad (and hairy) back.  He is wearing a jock and boots.  As he unlocks his door, I can see the rest.  He has as hairy a chest as I’ve ever had the pleasure to run my fingers through.  His shaved head glistens in the light.  The beard on his face is large and full and totally suits him.  I guess he’s in his early 50’s.  

It’s a big double bed room in the bathhouse.  The sling, currently folded against the wall, is on a set of cables that stretch over the bed.  In one brief pull it’s in place and the pig is up and in it.  I fall to my knees and eat the hairiest hole I think I’ve ever encountered.  I eat and spit.  His hole is used, but cum free.  I stand up and sink my cock back in him.  He’s a great fuck.  He plays with his nipples and tells me to fuck him hard.  Not get off—no, he’s all about the fuck, not the load.

After ten minutes of fucking, I pull out and climb up on the bed.   I can kneel right on it and feed him my cock.  He licks me clean with the true passion of the ATM obsessed.

“Open the door.”

I look at him.

“If you want to, Sir,” he backtracks.

I grin and turn the knob.

We get a lot of traffic as I go back to fucking him.  Some loiter and leave.  Some come in and fuck.  The best are:

A dirty blond in his 40’s, decent shape with a large slightly curved cock.

An Italian macho fucker with a thick-as-your-wrist beer can for a dick.

A young man, sculpted to perfection who needs to fuck with a condom.  He can’t stay hard—until I put a finger up his ass.

Once an onlooker bends over and tries to get the guys to fuck him, we shut the door.  I am fucking, the dirty blond is sucking the young man.  The Italian blows all over that hairy chest.  He leaves.  The young man soon after, without getting off.

“Let’s DP him,” says the blond.

I signal my bearded friend to get up.

“Naw, right here.” 

DP in sling?  Well, I’m game…

The Dirty Blond stands on the bed so he’s just above the sling.  He squats and slips his cock into the well fucked hole.  I am able to stand in normal sling position and slowly work my cock in, too.  It’s the most effortless DP I’ve ever experienced.  We fill him to the bursting point.

There is a lot of back and forth—first he’ll fuck, with me in the pig’s mouth, and then we reverse it.
At one point I am sitting on the floor, leaning against the end of the bed, watching the Dirty Blond fuck him.  He understands.   Without being told, he does two strokes into the pig’s ass and two into my mouth.  And repeat.

I slip down and lick the underside of his cock as he fucks into that hairy hole.  He calls me a fucking perv and tells me to lick him clean.

When he’s winded, we reverse.


Dirty Blond leaves.  I so want to taste his cum in the hole we’ve been fucking all night, but he’s promised to meet a regular.  With the door shut, I concentrate on cumming.  I give him his first load in his ass.  I leave the door open, with him still in the sling and his ass dripping…


In the dark corridor, unable to get hard so soon, I kneel.  A cute young man is fucking a mouth or an ass through the gloryhole.  When he sees me, he turns around.  His cock slaps my cheek and then he begins jerking his dick. 

“Open up.”

I do.  He spews a load onto my tongue.  He’s too sensitive for me to lick him clean.

I move up to the bench.

A young Latino comes in.  He sinks to his knees and takes my swollen, but soft cock in his mouth.

“Spit on me.” 

I do.  Right on his face.  He redoubles his efforts.  He wakes my dick up.  I spit on him at irregular intervals.  I rim him a little—I even get the head of my cock in him, but he wants to be degraded on his knees with his mouth on my balls or cock.  I spit on him and cock slap him until he shoots all over the floor.


I wake up with start.  My cock is full and ready again.  I leave my room.  I squint at the clock— I’ve napped for an hour or so.  I find the Hairy Man’s sling room.  The door is still open.  And he’s still in the sling.

“Loads?”  I ask.

“Oh, yeah.  I’ve been hoping you’d come back to clean me up.”

I kneel in front of the hairy ass.  It’s matted and wet with cum.  My tongue flicks out, connecting with his puffy, used hole…

Friday, October 24, 2014

An Outtake...

I hate the fact that I just wrote one of these apologies…but here’s another.

I have not had any time to write.  Every ounce of whatever creativity I need to capture my sex life for this blog has had to be used elsewhere.

This is one of the longest stretches I have not been posting.  

But I’m home now.

And ready.

So an out take from the group of the last two postings.

Assuming anyone still cares about my cock going into bare asses…   

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Party of Eight--Part Two

West  Michigan—September, 2014

(This picks up immediately following the last post.)

I ask the Young Bottom if I can taste the load in his ass.  He seems fine with that.  He kneels in a chair.  I bury my face between his full cheeks.  It’s a big load, seeping out.  I clean him up.

“Put your cock in him.”  It’s Joey, from across the room.

The Young Bottom looks over his shoulder at me.  I pull back and look at him, questioningly.  He slowly nods, unsure and wary.  I stand up.  My cock head slips in.  I have left enough cum in him so he feels amazing. The jizz in his ass is so slippery I have half my dick in him before I know it…

“Please---fuck, no!”

The Young Bottom pulls forward, his back arching up as much as he can in the over-stuffed chair.  My cock flops out.

“I can’t take that.”

I just kneel back down and eat some of the load my flared cock head has pulled out of his ass.  I thrust my tongue in as deeply as I can.  He squirms and moans into the fabric on the back of the chair.
Joey comes over.  “Try the sling.” He strokes the boy’s head tenderly. “You’ll be more comfortable.”

We do just that.  But the Young Bottom can’t seem to relax and is too nervous.  I get him out of the sling and go on to fuck Jack, sharing him with The Talker, once he can get hard again.

When we take a breather, I notice Joey and the Young Bottom are not in the room.  I assume they are out smoking—but then I hear groans from upstairs.  My cock leads me up the stairs—and swells when I see what I going on.

Joey is lying under the rimseat.  The Young Bottom is sitting on it, squirming in pleasure and being very vocal about the tonguing he is receiving.  He has also become quite verbal—telling Joey to get that tongue deep into his hole—to eat out the last of the load.

I watch and stroke.

I kneel between Joey’s legs.  His jock is bulging—he is rock hard eating the boy out.  I grab his knees and get them to my shoulders.  I inch forward and my rampant cock pushes into his asshole.  I hear him grunt.  Joey must have driven his tongue deeper into the Young Bottom for he grunts at the same moment.  I am in all him all the way.  My pubes smash into his butt.  

I fuck Joey hard.  It must not slow his tongue down for the Young Bottom is telling him how good it feels.  Then he focuses his eyes on me and tells me to plow his friend.  “Seed him, man.  Give him a load, too.”  It’s a hot moment, but there is no way I’m cumming yet. 

I fuck until my knees get a slight case of rub burn.  We switch around.  I lie down under the seat.  The Young Bottom sits back down.  His hole is so wet with saliva, ass lube and the remnants of the cum.  I dig in.  I get lost in the smooth skin of his young flesh.  I have to stop stroking—this is getting me close—and I’ll be damned if I’m going to jerk out a load.  When my hand leaves my cock, it stands straight for a moment, cooling in the air.

And then Joey sits on it.  He glides into place in one easy stroke.  I reach behind him and twist my balls.  I need to make sure I don’t blow at just the idea of the two hottest asses in the house on my cock and face.  I let Joey do the work at first, but soon I’m thrusting up into him.  I love hearing the smack of my hips against his sweaty flesh.

“Switch with me,” says Joey.  I’m pretty sure he’s not talking to me.  “You’ll be able to take him when you’re in control.”  From having both my tongue and cock buried deep in ass, I suddenly have neither as they stand up at the same time.  The guys switch.  Joey sits right down.  I love that he’s giving me his ass direct from my cock.  I plunge my tongue into him. 

The Young Bottom takes a moment to think about it, but in moments I feel him kneel on either side of my hips and thighs.  And it works.  With him in control, he has no problem taking me to the hilt.  He can only say “Jesus” as he hits the full length, but he starts bouncing on it instantly.  The boy has talent.  He’s squeezing me on each upstroke.  These two asses are pushing me over the edge.  I am sure I will shoot in a matter of moments.

But the Talker walks into the room.  I can’t see him, but I can hear him.  My potential orgasm disappears.  The Talker does contribute more than bad dialogue—he stands astride my chest and shoves his cock into Joey’s mouth.

We are happy pigs.  The Young Bottom is in the groove with my cock.  He can’t get enough—and tells me so.  Almost on every stroke.  I feel the Talker turn and feed the boy for a while.   We stop only when the Young Bottom’s legs need a break.

But I can’t stop.  I get up and push the boy onto the air mattress.  He lands on all fours, guessing just what I want.  I push into his ass…and blow the load that has been building all this time. 

“Oh, fuck, Daddy.  Fill me up.”  I am moaning directly into his ear.  And still shooting. “That is so hot.”  I hold on to him and tell him to milk every drop.  He does.  I only pull out of him so Joey can have a taste of my cum in this young, wet ass.

The rest of the evening was all about fisting Joey.  Having lost the coin toss to go first, I watched Leather Top open him up with his expert technique.  

I was able to get hard again that night.  All it took was for me to sink my hand into Joey’s ass alongside Leather Top’s big mitt.  I slid along his wrist until we were palm to palm and we could clasp our fingers deep in the man hole.

Monday, October 13, 2014

Party of Eight--Part One

West Michigan—September, 2014

The first part of September became all about a number of excellent sex parties and bathhouse visits.  I finally had the time to travel—so I got of town every chance I could.  The first place I went was back to Jack and Joey’s.  They were the couple who had invited me (along with my fuck bud Ryan) to ravage their holes back in March.  You may remember the illustrated entries “Four Pigs” or “Four Pigs—Toys, Fists andCum.”  Well, they were throwing a sex party and hoped I’d bring the back the sling.  I said I’d be there—and packed the rimseat as well.

I set up the sling in their living room.  The rimseat I took to the steeply gabled room upstairs where a huge air mattress dominated the space. 

And then I waited.

And waited

Eventually the cast assembled:

Jack—the older of the two hosts.  He might be in his middle 30’s but more likely has just hit 40.  He has a sizable dick, but lately prefers to get fucked.  It you restrain him first, he’s happier.

Joey—the other host.  He’s 8 to 10 years younger.  His job buffs him up.  He has one of the best self-trained holes I know. 

Leather Top—A former title holder who now lives in this area.  He’s the only other man I know at this gathering—he’d come to my playroom to fist Fritz, the guy who’d paid for my time.  He’s a fit  50 plus and dressed in his hides.

The Talker—he’s a top and in his early 30’s.  And let’s everyone know it.  Because he won’t stop talking.  Ever.  Usually I can shut guys up by putting my dick in their mouth---but he is not blessed with any oral skills.  Sometimes his fuck commentary is hot—often it’s like bad porn.

Safe Sex Guy—He says he’s a top and has to fuck safe.  The best body there—a perfect chest, furry in just the right places.  Late 30’s, dark blond.

Mr. “I Usually Top”—He’s 10 years younger than me with dark cropped hair covered by a ball cap.  He’s about my height, but he’s a much more solid man with a barrel chest.  He made the announcement the moment I confirmed my profile name:  “I usually top, but I decided to bottom when Jack said you were coming.”

The Young Bottom.  A late arrival, he’s a young man from their area who Joey and Jack have been training to take dick and toys.  He’s barely 24, with a greasy A-shirt and jeans vibe—as if he’d gotten horny while changing the oil in his junker.  Jack assures me I will love his ass.  “He saw your picture and said you were too big, but I bet he’ll take you,” Jack smirks.

The group never quite seems to get settled.  They smoke outside.  They drink.  Joey goes off to pick up the young bottom from across town.  Finally I have the Talker and I Usually Top in the same room.  I kick off my jeans.  They follow suit.  I retie my boots, leaving my jock on.  I kneel and suck on the Talker.  I get my first taste of his running monologue as he tells me how to suck his dick and how he’s going to fuck me.  He reaches around behind me to try and feel my hole.  I bat his hand away and move over to Mr. IUT, who is stroking a fatter than average cock.  We exchange blow jobs as others troop in from the smoking area.  Soon Leather Top is working Safe Sex Guy’s nipples, while Jack plays with the Talker.  Things settle down and the sexual temperature goes up.

I get IUT in the sling.  I eat his ass.  He strokes his own cock.  “Fuck me raw,” he tells me.  “I want to really feel you in my ass.”  I just keep eating.  I want to make sure he’s good and wet.  I stand up.  My cock head pokes at his pucker.  Once.  Twice.  He opens the third time. 


I just hold it in place.  I refuse to pull out.  He begins a rocking motion in the sling that impales me inch by inch as I stand still.  Safe Sex Guy is watching and stroking as he lets guys chew on his nips and lick his balls.  I am almost all the way in.  I push—the tiniest thrust—and I am balls deep.  It’s all it takes for IUT to plead with me to fuck him hard.  I do.  His cock is drooling buckets as I pummel his ass.  I scoop up some and smear it on my dick.  When I tell him what I’ve done, he pre-cums even more. 

I slow and pull out.  I offer his ass to Jack.  IUT wants every cock in the room now.  And tells them so.

Jack goes first.  The sexual tension builds.  We all watch the second raw cock slide into this occasional bottom.

The Talker goes next.  His chatter becomes hotter when he’s actually fucking raw in a hot ass.
Safe Sex Guy condoms up.  But his cock wilts the moment his latexed head touches the hole where three of us have been.  He goes back to nip play with the leather top. 

I slide back in.  I fuck hard against his full thighs.  The sound of fucking fills the living room.
Joey and the young bottom arrive.  

The young one takes one look at my cock.  He turns away with a “No way” and starts to suck every dick in the room.

I get IUT out of the sling.  He hands me his flogger.  I have him hold onto the frame.  I flog him briefly, but there are too many people around to do it properly and safely.  I suggest he lie face down in the sling with his feet on the floor.  I can fuck him and can use the flogger lightly on him at the same time.    I stop when he tells me he may cum.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the talker go from rimming the Young Bottom, to slipping his cock into him.  I really want to be in there…

I fuck I get restraints on IUT’s wrists.  I unhook the sling and truss him to the top of the frame.  He stands with his legs spread.  I work my cock up in him.  He grunts but takes me easily.  I use the flogger on him again.

When his arms look tired, I take him down and get Jack in the sling.

IUT is standing right there.  I think he wants to fuck Jack.  But he just shoots on Jack’s ass.  Safe Sex Guy jerks out a load at almost the same time which lands on IUT’s thigh.  I mop up both batches of oozing jizz and slather them on my dick--and fuck them into Jack.  His hole is becomes totally smooth and slick. 

I look to The Talker to see if he wants to fuck Jack.  That is the moment he announces he’s cumming and shoots his load inside the Young Bottom.

There is a moment as IUT and Safe Sex Guy dress and leave. 

The Talker comes over to taste the external loads I’ve fucked into Jack.  Leather Top has Joey on the sofa, stuffed with a massive toy.  I ask the Young Bottom if I can taste the load in his ass.  He seems fine with that.  He kneels in a chair.  I bury my face between his full cheeks.  It’s a big load, seeping out.  I clean him up.

“Put your cock in him.”  It’s Joey, from across the room.

The Young Bottom looks over his shoulder at me.  I pull back and look at him, questioningly.  He slowly nods, unsure and wary.  I stand up.  My cock head slips in.  I have left enough cum in him so he feels amazing. The jizz in his ass is so slippery I have half my dick in him before I know it…

“Please---fuck, no!”

Continued in the next post.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

A Medium Fist

My Playroom—August, 2014

He was coming a distance—from another country actually.  Business brought him to Michigan, but he was willing to travel even farther into the state for some play time.

“I am making my annual trip into Michigan to see friends,” Greg wrote.  “The sight of a sling drives me wild! I’m likely too vanilla for you…but no harm in reaching out.”

My house guests were gone.  The house was mine again.  I needed to get the playroom up and was itching to use it after the long summer hiatus.  “Sometimes vanilla is good,” I answered, “so you appreciate the other even more…”

We talked dates.  And limits.

“I do like to be fisted,” he closed with (as we’d met on Asspig) “but I have only taken a small hand.  You might not get your medium ones all the way in.”

There was only one answer to that.  “I’m a patient man.”

Greg is taller than I expect—though his height of 6’2” is right on his profile.  He is almost exactly my age, though I think he looks younger.  He has a trim waist, a very regulation sized dick and, what I really care about, a nicely rounded and firm ass.  I watch him step into his jock, with his back towards me.  He pulls it into place.  Sigh.  The straps frame the mounds of his ass perfectly.

I suggest the bench.  Grabbing his poppers, he climbs right into place.    I kneel and dive in.  He’s tight.  I pull the cheeks apart.  My tongue worms its way into his pucker.  I spit into his hole and push it in deep.  Again.  And again.  I push my right index finger into him.  It glides in smoothly with all the spit.  I add the one on my left hand.  A lateral stretch makes him groan in delight.  I hear the bottle cap open.

Fingers out.  Back to tongue.

Fingers in.  Spit.  Rim.

I condom up as I eat out his hole.  I have agreed to play covered.  I over-lube for the drag of the latex.  I stand.  He reaches back to feel if the Magnum is in place.

“If I say I will wear one, I will.” I snap, sounding a little more testily than I mean to sound.

I push in.  He’s tight.  But I get it into him on the first try…


I have to stop fucking.  I have been going for almost ten minutes, but my dick is telling me how much it hates being hermetically sealed in that Ziploc bag.  I pull out.  I use the egg headed dildo.  There is no question of my adding my cock along with it; I can barely pop the bulbous head of the toy into his hole.  But I do.  I slide it all the way in.  I add some fingers around the smaller shaft.

The cap unscrews again.  I do a few lateral stretches with the toy in place.  And work the toy all the way out and back in.  This time the over-sized head pops smoothly into his hole.

“Let’s get you off your knees.”

I help Greg off the bench.  He stands a little unsteadily. 

He grins at me and says only one word. “Wow.”

We move to me under the rimseat.  At first I’m disappointed that all I can taste is the latex from my condom.  But soon I’m back to tasting him.  My cock stands back up.  Now rampant.

I eat and spit.  Tonguing him deeply.  I hear the cap again. 

After the hit, he’s becomes verbal.  Telling me to tongue fuck him.  To eat his hole.  To push it in there deep. 

I do all those things.  And go deeper than a tongue has likely ever gone up his hole.

Greg is in the sling.

I make one more attempt at latexed fucking.  It starts fine, but my dick rebels again.  I give it up and just tuck the only slightly engorged meat away into the wet jock.

I don the black nitrile gloves.  And slather on a lot of Crisco.  One, two, three fingers to the knuckle.  Now four and five.  I’m right at bridge—the knuckles won’t quite go.  I repeat with the left.  I do a four finger stretch that makes him babble joyfully.

I spend a long time cranking him open with the speculum.  I show him the progress of his widening hole with a hand mirror.

I go back to hands.

And suddenly, when I try a second time with my left hand, I’m all the way inside him.  He can feel the snap of his hole around my wrist.  His eyes open.  He can see it in the mirror above.


I give a slight turn of my encased fist.  I hold it in place and then pull out.

In no time, with just a little pressure, he takes my greasy right hand as well.

“That’s the bigger hand,” I remind him.

He’s open now.  I don’t try for any depth.  I am glad I got him a step up in size. 

We play for almost three hours.


Greg is gone.  Back to his local motel so he can get an early start on his long drive in the morning.
I type up a few notes.  I like the guy.  I like the hole play. 

But then there is my cock deciding for me how much it now hates wearing a Magnum.  Just a few years ago, I used to play for hours suited up without any problem at all.  I know better than to say “never again.”  But I also know it will be a long time before I agree to a safer hook up.  I wonder how much Greg noticed or cared that there was not much fucking…

I needn’t have worried.

He wrote a glowing review about our long hours in the playroom. 

Sunday, October 5, 2014

Fucking Not Typing

I had such a good run of getting things written up and published in September, I guess it had to come to end.  Life is a little hectic right now as my job takes me out of state and to new place.  And last night, when I could have been writing, I was fucking instead.  I’ll be back soon.  

Here is pic I’ve never used from a leather photo shoot.  Maybe because I wasn't hard yet....