History: First Stirrings

 Well, my car is still in the shop.  I have given up trying to get someone to come to the house.  So, instead of the usual post…something a little different.  I’ve been talking about writing it for some time, that is, attempting to write my personal sex history—those 50+ years before I started the blog.  It won’t be all at once.  It might not even be in sequence.  Just some snapshots from the past.  I’ll just keep adding some around the usual reporting…  

 

My family lived on my great-grandfather’s farm.  It had stopped being a working farm in the 1940’s, long before my parent’s moved in at the top of the 1960’s.  The farmhouse was old and drafty, built in the 1860’s.  My older brother (by 4.5 years) and I shared what was once the master bedroom upstairs.  (My parents, being smart, took the smaller, but warmer, bedroom downstairs.)  The only heat upstairs was through an open iron grate in the floor.

The grey stucco house was on six acres of land.  What once were fields of corn were now mostly high weeds.  There was a small stand of trees near the old chicken coop.  A huge maple stood in the back yard and the largest lilac bush I have ever seen grew on the site of the old privy.  But best of all was the barn.

It was painted grey to match the house.  The two family cars were able to be parked in it, but more importantly, it served as an amazing place to play.  Two creative boys could make it be anything:  a fort, a police station, a house, a castle, whatever we could think of next.  This was helped along by the hodge podge of things stored there: tables, chairs, china, a bed under a green tarp and a huge trunk that looked like a pirate’s chest.  (It was actually the trunk you tied on to the back of your Model T and it currently sits in my sun porch.)

We spent hours, well, weeks, cleaning that upper floor.  And playing.  And needing a bath before dinner we were so filthy.  (I still think my incredibly robust immune system benefitted from all that dirt I inhaled.)

But the barn also held the first inkling of sex.  Sometime during that cleaning, while my brother was out at the hose getting a drink, I found a brown paper bag wedged into a small space where the floor met the wall.  It held two paperback books.  They were porn, though I had never heard the word.  I was likely 9 years old.  I stared at them.  Unbelieving.  Then I heard my brother on the stairs.  I shoved them back in the bag and back into their hiding place. 

“Mom wants us to clean up and help with dinner.” 

I nodded and followed him into the house.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about those two books.  Were they Dad’s?  They must be, I reasoned.  I lay on the lower bunk of our bunk beds and thought back to what I had seen. Now, by this point, I’d looked at a copy of Playboy belonging to a friend’s dad, but this was different.  I closed my eyes and thought of the two covers.  The first one was a young woman running naked on a beach being chased by a naked man, ass shots of both.  The second was racier: a woman in garters and hose, with a black lace bra showing off for a half-naked hunk on the bed—all while another man was behind the head board snapping photos of her seduction of the guy.

Did my prepubescent dick get hard?  Probably.  I knew I had to go look at them again.  I did, of course.  Carefully.  Never sharing with my brother what I had found.  But I didn’t think to actually read them for almost a year.

But that summer held another surprise.  Just before we were headed back to school, my brother announced that a guy he knew was coming over.  I vaguely knew him, too; his younger brother was in my class (and the source of the Playboy.)  What was different, was that my brother said they’d be upstairs in the barn—and I was to stay out—and should go play in the house.

What!?!  I couldn’t believe it.  But I did what he told me to do.   I lasted maybe 30 minutes until the pull back to the barn was too strong.  I wanted to know what was going on.  I’m not even sure what I thought was going on; I just hated being excluded.  I went quietly in the big front door.  The sliding door to the stairs was partially closed, but my skinny body could slip between the door and the frame with no problem.  I paused on the first step.  I listened.

I heard murmuring.  I heard the guy laugh.  Then my brother did, too.  More low sounds. 

I started up the steps.  Softly.  Like a cat.  But I hit the step that was cracked and it squeaked loudly.

“Don’t come up here!”  My brother’s voice was loud.

I froze on the step.  “I just wanted…”

“Go inside,” he said firmly.

I turned and went down.

I heard the bed squeak, the noise the springs always made when we sat on it.  What were they doing?  And why couldn’t I join in?  Now they were laughing as I shut the sliding door.  I went into the backyard, climbed the huge maple tree and felt sorry for myself.  

The next day, the sliding door in the barn now had a lock on it from the inside.

Many years later, when I was no longer the pesky, inquisitive kid brother, I asked my sibling what they were doing upstairs.  He was indeed getting his first blow job that day from his friend.  Something that at the time I didn’t even know what it was…

Here we are a little younger. 

I have always loved this picture.  

The hero worship in my eyes. 

He was and is a great mentor.

A Grouchy FP

 My Desk—October, 2025

 

Well, hell.  For the first time since the height of the Covid epidemic, I have nothing to write about.  I have written up every meet I’ve had…

It didn’t help that I while I was away in Indiana, I couldn’t find time to play for eleven days—but I could on the last day in town (the bathhouse post).  And then again on the way home at a video store.

And the bookstore on Monday. 

A dental cleaning slowed me down the next day. 

And then my car died.  Radiator.  It is still in the shop.  That took care of my sexual road trip to the bathhouse in Cleveland.

But I had someone coming to the house the day after the car died.  He cancelled.

I had another man scheduled for this second week I’ve been home.  He needed to cancel.

My married cocksucker had a date set—and he cancelled.  Now he is back on.  He is coming in a few hours.  And an update:  he just cancelled!!

Until I didn’t have it, I hadn’t quite realized how dependent I am on my car to get me to places where sex is likely to happen.

Cross your fingers that I actually get it back next Monday…

 

Well, after this depressing post, a couple of pics to make me feel better….

Oiled Guy and the Old Man

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"You Don't Need the Condom..."

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Some Hot Pics as I Procrastinate

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The Man in the Parking Lot

 Northern Indiana—October, 2025

 

I drove home the day after my afternoon at the bathhouse.  You would have thought that the sex I had there would be enough.  Of course not.  I stopped at a dirty bookstore just before the Michigan border.  The lot had quite a few cars.  I parked…

 

There is a man sitting in the car to my right, as I get out of mine.  His eyes bore into me.  He’s mid-forties, Black and has a goatee.  I can’t see more—but he seems to like what he sees in me.  He smiles.  I smile, nod and continue in. 

I pay the clerk who hands me a wad of tokens.  This is the place that on one side of the back room there is a video theatre and there are booths on the other side—that still take tokens.  I start in the theatre.

I sit and take out my cock.  Behind me, a hot Black guy has his dick out and is jerking hard to the straight anal scene on the screen.  He is wearing camouflage pants and a tight, white A-shirt.  His muscles are huge.  He looks ex-military.  He glances over at me.  His face shows no expression at all.

A Latino comes in.  He is young and very average looking.  He comes over to me and sits on the other half of the bench.  In moments, he is stroking my cock.  And stroking it.

“You can suck it, if you want…”

But he just keeps stroking it.  Not offensively hard, but I want more.

The hot guy crams his dick into his pants and leaves.  I excuse myself from the stroker and go off to the booths.  There is the hot guy, scrolling on his phone, standing in the hallway near the restroom.  He gives me no more than a cursory look.  I go into a booth near him and leave the door open.  It is not one with a glory hole.  I find some porn to my liking and stroke to it.

The door opens and a man looks in.  “Here you are.”

It’s the guy from the parked car.  He is tall and instantly pulls his pants down to his ankles.  He goes to his knees just as fast and begins sucking me.  He’s good.  No, great.  One of those thick tongues I adore.  He clearly loves doing it.  He strokes himself while he sucks.  His free hand is caressing my balls, not working my shaft. 

He is now licking those balls.  Gently.  Reverently.  I sigh.  He digs in with a little more pressure.  I moan.  He slowly pulls one into his mouth.  He tongue-washes it.  Then the other one.  He releases the hairy orb and slowly licks his way up my shaft.

He repeats it all again.  Slowly.  And once more.

He pulls off me and sighs.  He needs to stretch.  He gets up.  I lean in and take his very hard cock into my mouth. He groans—but in moments it goes down.  He really is all about service.

We take a break.  I find a booth with a gloryhole that is not in use.  I go in.  Instantly a thick curved cock comes through it.  And it’s covered in a condom.  I jerk it a little.  I finally lean down and put it in mouth.  I can’t.  I can’t suck a latexed cock.  The guy had seemingly liked it, but it’s not for me.

I go back to the theatre.  The hot guy is there, just kneading his cock mound now.  I sit near him and stroke.  Then my cocksucker arrives.  He goes to work on me in front of others.  This pleases me a lot.  He’s good…and it shows that I am willing to play in public.  There are a few other men scattered around the room.  They watch, but don’t pull out their dicks.  Actually, it makes the hot guy put his cock away after a time.

Once again, I suck my sucker for a moment when he stands up.  I want the hot guy to know I am more than just a big dick to service.  But no.

A hot, young and ripped Latino comes in.  He’s been making the rounds since I got there.  Now he finally takes out his cock.  He’s rampant and he looks right at me.  And I lose out for lingering 20 seconds.  The Latin guy who gave me the hand job is on him and he’s sucking him, dammit.  Granted, it fits down his throat with ease. 

It takes the guy forever to get off.  I leave the room for another round with my sucker in the booth.  When we come back, the guy finally gets off.  And the sucker spits his load out.  Now I’m incensed…

I am treated to a quick sucking from an older man.  He’s fine, but nothing special after this guy who’s worked so hard on me.  When his knees tire, my sucker, who’s been watching us, goes down on me for the last time.  I take a hit of poppers, hoping it might send me over the edge.

Not today.

My sucker has to leave.  We exchange phone numbers.  He wants playroom time.

I use up my tokens.  And some others that men have left behind.  But nothing else is happening.  The hot black guy is back on his phone.  I haven’t seen his dick for an hour.

I realize that I need to continue my journey home.

It was a good diversion.  Just not explosive…

Bathhouse Relief!

 Indianapolis—October, 2025

I finally had a break from my work gig in Indiana.  I went to the bathhouse on a Saturday afternoon.  I am always amazed that a smaller city like Indianapolis, in a deeply red state, can support two bathhouses.  I have been to both and like both.  The Club, part of the chain, is right downtown and the clientele seems to be younger.  I go to the Works, which is on the north side and an independent bathhouse.  It has a new owner and major renovations were just beginning when I was last there in December.  I was intrigued to see what was new.

 

The changes are apparent from the moment I walk in.  You now buy your admission in a small lobby before being buzzed into the building proper.  I ask for a locker.  They are in a new location on the first floor and not the basement.  It was a room that once, back in the 90’s, had been a ‘movie theatre’ showing actual films for those who were staying for extended times and wanted a break from porn.  It has sat empty and unused for years.  It is a much more comfortable place to change than the crowded corridor the lockers were jammed into before down in the basement.  The first level has also changed the location of the vending machine to a small inhouse store for the usual lubes, jocks, etc.

I go to the basement first.  Everything here, minus the lockers, is the same.  Steam (working!) and the sauna, showers and a few rooms around the exercise equipment and four screens of porn.  There is still a glory hole room here. 

On the second floor is the biggest change.  The small television room and a room with a fuckbench are totally different. The rooms are combined.  There is a big screen television and three glory hole cubicles in the first area that connects to a four-screen viewing lounge, with comfortable seating, in the second.  It also has a flat padded space for play.  The bigger television room down the hall has gotten an upgrade, too.  Much more comfortable seating though not likely as playful an area because of it.  The sling remains in a separate playroom.

I am impressed.

There are not many men about yet.  I had undressed with a hot guy with what looked like a big dick.  We meet again in the sauna after my tour.  I have kept my uniform of boots and jock on.  He’s in a jock, too.  And he is stroking his dick to hardness.

A guy my age comes in from the steam room, lackadaisically drying himself and leaning against the wall.  He has huge, pronounced nipples.  Then a much younger man than any of us comes in and sits on the lower bench, just below me and off to the side.  He is a big man—a mix of thick, worked out arms and some extra weight he is obviously working to lose.  He is a talker and strikes up a conversation.  The two other men leave.  We converse about the new changes.  He hasn’t been upstairs yet.

Then: “If you’d ever like some head, let me know.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He moves around to kneel on the lower bench.  He opens wide and swallows me down.  Fuck!  He’s great.  It doesn’t hurt that I haven’t had sex in two weeks.  (I can’t believe that I just typed that, but it’s true!)  He adds his hand, a little too tight on my shaft, thinking he’ll get my load faster that way.

I ask him to ease up.  He does.  It feels so much better.  I lay my hand on the back of his head to urge him deeper.  He does it.  And chokes.  He comes up for air and attacks me again as soon as he’s filled his lungs.  He bops up and down rather shallowly and then goes deeper and deeper.  He chokes again.  This time bring up spittle.  He wraps it around my cock.  I let him clean it off, before I suggest he lick my balls.  He loves how sweaty they are from being in the warm sauna.

He finally needs a moment to catch his breath.  I suggest me meet up later after we both wander a little.

I sit along the side wall in the basement, stroking to the four-screen porn down here.  The guy with the big nipples comes over.  He drops his towel and kneels on it.  His head feels entirely different.  Maybe more suction and a tighter grip with his lips shielding his teeth.  It feels just as good.  He can’t keep away from my balls either (no urging for him to find them) and he leaves them wet and slimy.

He stands up.  I think he wants some reciprocation.  And I’m fine with that.  But as I go to my knees, he turns and leans against some of the equipment, jutting his ass out at me.  Yeah, I want him as my first fuck.  I move to rim his hole.

I can’t.  It’s totally foul.  I suggest a shower and he looks daggers at me…

I wander and end up in the new porn room upstairs with the four screens.  I stroke.  The big guy comes in and sits with me.  We chat some more.  He asks what I like to do sexually.  I tell him my fetishes.  All things he’s says he’s never tried…but is open to experience. 

We move on to fucking.  “I’d love to feel you in my hole.”

I nod and he gets on all fours on the new padded area next to the padded bench we were on before.  I get on my knees and pull his generous cheeks apart.  My face is truly buried by his mounds of ass as I tongue his hole.  I love it.  He loves it.  He keeps telling me to eat him out, get him ready for that big cock.  I do just as he asks.  Longer likely.  But both of us are right where we need to be.

I stand up and slide in.  He gasps, but adjusts quickly.  I fuck him.  Slow and deep.  Then hard and fast.  I pull out and taste his hole again.  The man is awash in his own juices.  I devour his fucked butt.  I reach down.  He has massive balls and his cock has retreated so far into his body I can just feel the head.  But he is leaking precum like crazy.  I cover my fingers and rub it on his ass. 

“You are so dirty…” he mumbles. 

I do it again.  His juices are so sweet, I can’t stop licking them up.

But I do, so I fuck him once more.

I keep licking and fucking him until I’m truly winded. 

We take a break.

I wander. 

I find a slim boy on all fours in his room.  He has a collar on and a chain leash that runs down his back, where the handle hangs down his ass crack.  (Was he blindfolded?  I don’t remember…)  I touch his ass.  There is so much lube in his hole I don’t rim him.  I just enter him.  Easily.  But he gasps and tells me to go slowly.  I do.  But he’s one of those men that needs to tell me how to fuck his ass.  After the complete surrender of the other man, this looks hotter than it feels.  I fuck him a little longer.  And go on my way.

I wander.

I end up in the same four-screen lounge.  A few men check in, but there is not the crowd in the daytime on the weekend like I have seen it during the week.

My big guy arrives for round two.  I have him suck me again.  I sit, legs splayed, on the platform.  He sucks me.  He knows I fucked the other guy, as he’d stood at the open door and watched.  He moans at the idea my cock has been in another man.

Soon we are fucking.  And the guy in the jock brings the other bottom into the room.  The fuck temperature of the room skyrockets.  I fuck the big guy on all fours, while the other top fucks the slim one.

“Wanna change?” I ask him.

“You bet.”

We pull out at the same time and slip into different asses.  He groans at the incredibly wet hole I’ve been in.  I like that I’m no longer being told how to fuck by the slim guy.

“I want to watch you fuck him,” says the other top.  He has pulled out and is moving so the big guy can suck him while I fuck.  He sits where I did and now the big guy has two dicks inside him.  The slim bottom comes over to watch—to his credit he’s supportive, not pissed off.

“Fuck him harder,” the other top instructs.  “Slam him so I can feel it.”

I do.  Hard and fast.

“Fuck him, daddy,” says the other bottom.

“That’s it!” crows the other top.  The room fills with the slapping sounds of wet flesh.

“Ah, fuck…” the top is shooting, convulsing in the mouth of the larger man.  He shoots and shoots, but he can’t take a cock cleaning.

The other two take off.

I slow the fuck and pull out.  I want to taste his hole again.

“I’d love to have your load in me…” he groans as I lick him out once again.  I use his precum again for more lube. 

And the act of wiping it on his ass makes me realize that I’m there.  I stand up and fuck it as deeply into his guts as I possibly can…

 

Saturday Night Expectations

 Near Home—September, 2025

 

My dick was fully recovered by the end of the month.  I was headed to do a two-week work gig down in Indiana for the first days of October.  I knew that I would not have much sex (if any) during that time, so I wanted to have fun on my last Saturday in Michigan.  I was thinking of driving to one of the bigger venues in the state, but I used up my travel time with packing for the trip.  I ended up at my usual haunt.  But it was Saturday night.  I felt confident…

 

The room feels cruisy with expectations.  Two older bikers are over on the short wall—where they can only see the straight porn.  One is stroking a long, slender cock.  The other kneads his crotch from time to time.   There are two other men on the long wall, looking at both screens.  One has his hand shoved down his pants.  The other man’s pants are tented, but he doesn’t touch himself.  I don’t know these guys either.

The bikers are clearly waiting for someone.  I assume someone has announced on FetLife that he is bringing his female partner tonight.  The guys wait and wait.  The straight video stops.  And stays on the menu card.  I go out to the store and tell the cashier to change to the next video.  A man is standing there with his wife.  He comes in after me; she stays and chats to the cashier.  The new video starts.  The husband is horny.  He nods to the bikers and convinces the guy with the tented pants to get sucked.  He is either really good with his mouth or tented pants has no stamina.  He shoots very fast.  The husband licks him clean.

He turns to the room.  “I’ll go get her.”  The bikers nod to each other as he goes out the door.  But the couple never return. 

I stroke.  The one biker strokes.  The man with his hand shoved down his pants finally frees his tiny dick.

Time passes.  The bikers seem to be sure the couple will be back.  Finally, the stroker of the two walks into the restroom.  I wait for the sound of the door to shut, but it doesn’t.  And he doesn’t come back.  I get up and head over like I need to piss, my big cock swinging.  The door is wide open and he is jerking over the toilet, desperate to get his load out.  His pants are around his knees.

I step in.  He turns and nods to me. 

I nod back and hear myself say: “If you want some help, my mouth is available…”

“Fuck, yes…”

He turns and presents me with his long slender dick that now, after all the stroking, is not nearly as hard as while watching the video.  I go to my knees.  He sighs as I take him into my mouth.  I notice I left the door open.  I mentally shrug.  Then I concentrate on getting him off.  But I can’t get him any harder with all my oral tricks.  My left hand moves from his tight balls to his ass.  My finger grazes his asshole.  He grunts.  His cock oozes.  I begin to work it into him.  I am rewarded with more precum.  He takes the first joint.  I work it up him and suck.  I find his prostate and he spews his cum, in a long drizzle, down my throat, with a muted sigh.

I go back to my chair.  He leaves.

I stroke. Tiny Dick strokes.  The remaining biker ignores us, focusing on the double fuck on the screen.

A hot man in his late 40’s comes in.  He sits next to me.  He watches me manhandle my dick more than the video.  I’m pretty confident of a blow job.  But just as suddenly he leaves.

I stroke.

He’s back with a bottle of poppers.  He sits in the same chair and watches me work my cock.  He opens his fly and takes out a meaty seven incher.  He huffs the poppers and jerks at top speed.  He leans towards me, still lost in the fumes.  “Do you suck?”

So much for that blow job.  But I’m more than willing to do him.  I go to my knees and take him deep into my throat.  He is twice the girth of the biker.  The poppers are used again.  I barely get to do much before he gives me a big load that coats my tongue.  He holds me in place and pumps into my face to get out the last drops.

I stand up.  The biker all but rolls his eyes at me.  The handsome guy takes off, stuffing that thick cock back in his pants.

I stroke.

Tiny Dick leaves.  The Biker does, too.  I am alone on a Saturday night.

The guy with the long mustache comes in.  I tell him I am completely healed.  He settles down and does to me what I did to the two other men, using that long facial hair to everyone’s satisfaction…

*

This is my last hook up from my file folder of notes.  I don’t know I have ever run out before in all these years.  Indiana has given me no time to play.  Until today.  I am posting this and heading to the bathhouse…

Cute College Kid Helps Me Heal

 Near Home—September, 2025

My penis healed.  Slowly.  One of my least favorite parts of aging is how much longer it takes my body to deal with cuts and scrapes.  I finally ventured back to the bookstore.  I was leery of just letting anyone deal with my dick—but maybe, I thought, I would have a session of just me doing the sucking.  Note to self:  Never Make Plans…

 

I get out of my car.  Parking at the same time is a man around my age.  He is a talker.  He is hailing me the moment he opens his car door while I am locking mine.  He walks in with me, telling me a story about a problematic cashier at a big box store.  I don’t have to respond.  He doesn’t give me any air space to do it, even if I wanted.  I pay.  He pays and is right on my heels, so we go into the theatre together.  He makes a beeline to sit near the gay screen.  I avoid my usual chair in the middle and sit as far away from him as possible on the opposite wall—which means I can only see the straight screen. 

I take out my hardening dick.  I lube it up well.  I stroke—and all is fine.

Except this new guy is now being vocal about what’s happening on the screen.  “Look at the size of his dick.  How can that guy take it so easily?”

Other men (there are maybe five more of us) look away, not wanting to engage.  Soon they physically move away from him. 

One of them is the guy with the long mustache.  He asks if he can suck me.  I tell him, in a low voice, what’s up with my dick.  He commiserates and wants reassurance it wasn’t his tooth that did it.  I reassure him that it’s not.

The talkative guy now comes over to join us.  He sits a chair away.

“Let me suck that beauty,” he volunteers.

I shake my head. 

He makes a few more comments, now about the women on the screen.  We all ignore him and minutes later, the guy falls asleep, emitting an occasional snore.

The whole room is relieved.  The guy with the long mustache finds a willing guy and goes to work.  I watch them and the screen.

The door opens.  In comes Cute College Kid—without his trademark black framed glasses.  His hair is slightly longer.  He is looking hotter than ever—no longer cute, but outright handsome.  He sits on the other side of the sleeping guy and takes out his cock.  He looks right at me.  Now at his dick.  And back at me.

Perfect.

I get up and kneel in front of him.  His cock is just above average, but he is a copious precummer.  I slurp away on him as he writhes in pleasure.  He stops me for a moment, so he can push his jeans down to his ankles.  Now I can get to his balls with ease.  They are fragrant after half a day in the hot weather.  I lick them clean—then suck his cock again.  But I want more of his ball scent.  I lick my way down again.  I lift them with my left hand and lick under them.  I spend a long time there before my tongue snakes down his perineum.  He scootches down in the chair so my tongue can touch his pucker.

He groans the moment I lick him there.  Loud enough I’m afraid he’ll wake the snoring talker.  But no.  I begin to lick up and down his ass crack.  But CCK wants more.  He motions for me to stop and we go around the corner to the gay screen.  He strips completely but for socks and kneels in the wide chair.

I pick up where I left off, my tongue all over his ass crack.  Now I can slowly zero in on his hole.  Soon, I am tongue fucking him and he is beating his cock.  He moans again.

“Please…” he mumbles.

I know what he wants.  The last thing I’d thought I’d do today is fuck…but I stand up and slide into him.  He grunts out his satisfaction.  He actually stops jerking himself so he won’t shoot.  His ass is super wet.  And hot. 

“I want it…” he murmurs. 

And I want it.  My cock is more than ready, even after this short time inside him.  I plunge deep and I can feel my balls empty into him.  It’s a weeks-worth of semen.  It is not an explosive orgasm, but it feels great, shooting inside him.  I fuck in it.  And churn it.  I pull out and go to my knees to felch some of it.

He starts stroking again as I eat his freshly fucked hole.  Suddenly, he wriggles around, rolling to sit—so he can feed me his dick.  He gets it into my mouth just before he spurts out a massive amount of cum.  Spurt and spurt.  I savor and swallow.  And swallow.  And lick him clean as he writhes in pleasure.

He pulls me up to look me square in the face.  “Thank you, Daddy,” he whispers.

I smile, before catching the last drool out of his dick…

*

When I got home, I checked my dick.  It was slightly red where the scrape had been…but just fine…