Between writing my fantasy story about the figure drawing and yesterday's post of some hot video clips, my sex drive is back in full swing. Once again I've been jerking off to pretty much only gay material, a few tranny and bisexual episodes in between; but for the most part it's been all gay. I think I'm intoxicated with the idea of experiencing what it's like to get a guy hard. To experience that power and control that women must feel over men, straight men anyway, that they could do something sexy and he'd just melt like putty in her hands. The power of subtle sexual control, by being the cause of his erection, the knowledge that grabbing hold of and massaging his cock would be a sensation he could not resist. I think a lot of why I am so attracted to gay fantasies is because of the aspect of envy, that I am jealous of women's control over men. If I was with a man, I might experience some of that power trip, and frankly it'd be just plain fun to have a man paralyzed with arousal. And being a guy, at least I know not to leave him hanging with blue balls, as a fellow guy I'd have enough sense to finish the job.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
What Is Gay Sex?
It seems the word sex has many meanings. Bill Clinton got caught in the shaded area of the definition, the classic heterosexual male train of thought: sex does not occur unless I fuck her pussy. When Clinton uttered those infamous words, "I did not have sexual relations with that woman," he was providing a window into the male paradigm, one that bases the definition of sex on committing the act of laying the pipe. There's a few problems with this way of thinking about sex, none the least of which being a charge of perjury when under oath.
My now-bisexual lesbian friend who helped me realize I'm bisexual, was telling me about this time she hooked up with one of her lesbian friends for a one night stand. In the telling the story she said, "we had sex" and at that moment I realized -- neither of them has a penis so sex must mean a lot more than penile penetration. She told me about their tryst, and to her, the sex was everything that happened that night. Licking, sucking, grinding, kissing, fingering, fisting... everything. The whole experience was the sex, and since there was no penis or dildo involved, the meaning of the word had little to do with vaginal penetration.
I just read a really hot true story that got me thinking about gay experiences (again) and the meaning of the word sex. In the story, the blog's author, orange108, talks about his "truth or dare" sleep overs with one of his stepbrothers. They started with little touches of each other's dicks, then progressed to jerking and sucking each other off. Although they never had anal sex, in my opinion what they had was gay sex. And I'm jealous.
Sex has many meanings. Considering that not everyone has a penis, or one that gets hard, or one that's big enough to penetrate anything at all, and that they have a right to have sex as much as anyone, the word sex therefore must mean more than penetrating a pussy or ass with one's cock.
My now-bisexual lesbian friend who helped me realize I'm bisexual, was telling me about this time she hooked up with one of her lesbian friends for a one night stand. In the telling the story she said, "we had sex" and at that moment I realized -- neither of them has a penis so sex must mean a lot more than penile penetration. She told me about their tryst, and to her, the sex was everything that happened that night. Licking, sucking, grinding, kissing, fingering, fisting... everything. The whole experience was the sex, and since there was no penis or dildo involved, the meaning of the word had little to do with vaginal penetration.
I just read a really hot true story that got me thinking about gay experiences (again) and the meaning of the word sex. In the story, the blog's author, orange108, talks about his "truth or dare" sleep overs with one of his stepbrothers. They started with little touches of each other's dicks, then progressed to jerking and sucking each other off. Although they never had anal sex, in my opinion what they had was gay sex. And I'm jealous.
Sex has many meanings. Considering that not everyone has a penis, or one that gets hard, or one that's big enough to penetrate anything at all, and that they have a right to have sex as much as anyone, the word sex therefore must mean more than penetrating a pussy or ass with one's cock.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Erotic Figure Drawing
I saw the ad in the back of our town’s alternative news. It said, “Figure Drawing for Adults. Experience Something New!” I’d taken figure drawing classes before, sometimes the model wore a body-suit, a swimsuit, or rarely nothing at all. This sounded a little different than what I was used to.
“For Adults?” I thought, as I called the number.
A very sweet sounding man answered the phone. He spoke in tender, lisped, feminine tones, and I could tell right away he was gay.
“We wanted to try a different approach to figure drawing, one that celebrates the human form in a more casual, open-minded kind of way.”
This was already sounding pretty interesting.
“We are encouraging all new participants to leave their inhibitions at the door. We will be drawing poses and… positions,” he said suggestively, “not typical of your average figure drawing class. We need to make sure that all new members are aware of and comfortable with the methods.”
“I’m not easily offended,” I offered, hoping to learn more.
“Well good, you may like what our class has to offer then.”
He told me the time and place, how much, how long it runs, and what to bring. “We also let those students that wish to pose do so as well, so bring a robe if you are so inclined.” That made my gut drop. The idea of disrobing and being visually inspected by a group had always seemed arousing to me, but the idea of getting a boner in front of a traditional art class killed that fantasy immediately. Would this really be different like he said?
The class was held in a private home, in a large game room with a draped chair on a large table, surrounded by easels. It was a large house in the fancy part of town, all decked out for a party with ours devours, champagne, and a stack of folded cards that said “TAKE ONE” on the front. Inside the card said, “You have been invited to a Spontaneous Erotic Figure Drawing Class. You may leave if Erotic Nudity doesn’t appeal to you.”
My cock let me know that we were definately going to stay by pressing up against my jeans in a sudden throb of excitement. This was going to be great, I smiled to myself.
Soon the class was underway, and the host stood up to welcome the group. He was a handsome and young-looking 45, in shape and well defined. I guess he was the first model. He had only a small towel wrapped around his waist, and acted comfortable and relaxed. It must have been his home.
"Hi everyone, welcome to Figure Drawing for Adults, I'm Daniel. It's nice to see some new faces, I hope you enjoy the session today." He let his towel drop, and my cock popped. I looked around the rrom to see if anyone else was enjoying this as much as me. The room was mostly men, a few women obviously there with their boyfriends, all my age and older. Except for one guy who acted ashamed at my glance toward him, everyone appeared calm and casual.
Daniel asked if ten minutes would be enough to start the first pose, everyone agreed, and he climbed up on the table, squatted, leaned back, and spread his legs. He was pointed directly at me, legs wide open, as if to welcome me with this delicious introduction. I thought he was looking directly at me, but for the full ten minutes his position and stare did not change, never responding to my smiles and obvious arousal.
He was circumcised, his cock held a meaty stance even soft and curved beautifully into his balls, all of which where perfectly shaved smooth and cropped by a tuft of trimmed hair above. As I focused on the detail of his cock in my drawing, I realized that I was fulfilling a long-time fantasy, and my heart was pounding as I struggled to keep control of my hand and ignore the bulging in my jeans. My cock roared to be let free, but I was still new, I wasn't sure what he meant by "some class members can pose."
After ten minutes an alarm he had set went off and he said, "on to another pose, ten minutes everyone?" And with that he flipped over,
spread his legs, and pushed his package down and back. The pose was so fucking hot I could barely draw it. His ass was perfectly smooth, he had an awesome physique, the cutest little asshole, smooth perineum and a wonderful drape to his balls. It was a picture of Greek perfection, and my underwear was wet with the precum dribbling from my cock hole, my shaft thick with excitement, caged behind my zipper.
I looked around the room, and to my surprise, one of the men had unzipped his pants and his fully erect cock was poking through his zipper hole, nearly purple with blood, engorged and looking in absolute desperation of some immediate attention. Obviously he was enjoying this as much as me, if not more. I looked around and no one seemed bothered by his outward advance. He just continued to draw, ignoring his erection intently. I found it hard to keep my eyes off his amazing display, despite the task at hand and the unbelievably candid pose shown by our host, Daniel.
When the ten minutes was up, I was too horny to go on, so I excused myself to the bathroom, and immediately jerked off into the sink. My mind raced, was this just a wet dream? If it was, I didn't want it to end. How could a group of people have a meeting like this, drawing cock-blowingly sexy things like this, remaining totally cool and calm? How could they not all be fucking on the floor by now? "This is making me so horny," I thought, looking at myself in the bathroom mirror. One damn toss into the sink wasn't going to do it. But I felt so shy, I had never ever been in this type of situation, and I was having a hard time just giving in to the urgings of my cock to rip off my clothes and fuck, blow, suck, and get fucked by everyone in the room. Fuck the drawing, I thought, let's just all fuck like wild dogs already.
Three deep breaths and I steeled the composure to return to the room. When I got back, things were the same pretty much, the guy still had his cock stiffly protruding from his pants, and he saw me look at it again and smiled when our eyes met. I gave him a playful wink and without any delay my dick was hard again in my jeans, which as many guys know can be a restrictive, uncomfortable compressing feeling. Some hard dicks simply don't fit into underwear and jeans.
Daniel had taken on another pose, this time turned on his back, legs spread, clenching his manhood, which had now become erect. He was squeezing it hard to keep the blood in for the full ten minutes. My cock, in the meantime, was having no trouble keeping the blood in, and the pressure was too much anymore, and I looked over jealously at the guy whose cock was pulled out, and feeling the increasing pulse unzipped my own pants and pulled out my aching cock. It throbbed at the glory of being free, and I met eyes of approval from the other guy. Daniel said from his pose, "I see our new member is enjoying the session," and everyone laughed, including me. What a great release to be in a room so exposed and feel so accepted and embraced really. It was awesome.
After his pose, he told us that the first half of the session was over, and that there would be a group pose for the second half. Some of the couples left, and the rest stayed, including me. I was wondering if we would get to pose, I looked down at my cock and looked over to my other cock-bearing class member. He winked.
Daniel went back to an open easel, stayed nude, and two guys walked in who I hadn't seen before. They were both muscular and both hard as a rock. They got onto the table
and assumed a gay bondage-shaving pose that engorged my cock even more. Now this was crazy. Here I was in a room of guys, one of them with their cock out, one nude, and two guys posing on the table. "Where has this type of figure drawing class been all my life?" I said to my neighbor, the guy with his cock out too.
"Where have YOU been?" he teased.
That sent me into orbit. I frantically finished my drawing, eagerly watching the clock for the end of the session. Daniel had given them 20 minutes for this pose, and my cock was dripping with juice. The timer rang, and at that moment the other guy walked over to me, knelt in front of me and gave me a blow job right there while I watched the models kiss and fondle each others dicks. I came in a flood down his throat, zipped up, and Daniel said, "I trust we'll be seeing you for next week's session?"
“For Adults?” I thought, as I called the number.
A very sweet sounding man answered the phone. He spoke in tender, lisped, feminine tones, and I could tell right away he was gay.
“We wanted to try a different approach to figure drawing, one that celebrates the human form in a more casual, open-minded kind of way.”
This was already sounding pretty interesting.
“We are encouraging all new participants to leave their inhibitions at the door. We will be drawing poses and… positions,” he said suggestively, “not typical of your average figure drawing class. We need to make sure that all new members are aware of and comfortable with the methods.”
“I’m not easily offended,” I offered, hoping to learn more.
“Well good, you may like what our class has to offer then.”
He told me the time and place, how much, how long it runs, and what to bring. “We also let those students that wish to pose do so as well, so bring a robe if you are so inclined.” That made my gut drop. The idea of disrobing and being visually inspected by a group had always seemed arousing to me, but the idea of getting a boner in front of a traditional art class killed that fantasy immediately. Would this really be different like he said?
The class was held in a private home, in a large game room with a draped chair on a large table, surrounded by easels. It was a large house in the fancy part of town, all decked out for a party with ours devours, champagne, and a stack of folded cards that said “TAKE ONE” on the front. Inside the card said, “You have been invited to a Spontaneous Erotic Figure Drawing Class. You may leave if Erotic Nudity doesn’t appeal to you.”
My cock let me know that we were definately going to stay by pressing up against my jeans in a sudden throb of excitement. This was going to be great, I smiled to myself.
Soon the class was underway, and the host stood up to welcome the group. He was a handsome and young-looking 45, in shape and well defined. I guess he was the first model. He had only a small towel wrapped around his waist, and acted comfortable and relaxed. It must have been his home.
"Hi everyone, welcome to Figure Drawing for Adults, I'm Daniel. It's nice to see some new faces, I hope you enjoy the session today." He let his towel drop, and my cock popped. I looked around the rrom to see if anyone else was enjoying this as much as me. The room was mostly men, a few women obviously there with their boyfriends, all my age and older. Except for one guy who acted ashamed at my glance toward him, everyone appeared calm and casual.Daniel asked if ten minutes would be enough to start the first pose, everyone agreed, and he climbed up on the table, squatted, leaned back, and spread his legs. He was pointed directly at me, legs wide open, as if to welcome me with this delicious introduction. I thought he was looking directly at me, but for the full ten minutes his position and stare did not change, never responding to my smiles and obvious arousal.
He was circumcised, his cock held a meaty stance even soft and curved beautifully into his balls, all of which where perfectly shaved smooth and cropped by a tuft of trimmed hair above. As I focused on the detail of his cock in my drawing, I realized that I was fulfilling a long-time fantasy, and my heart was pounding as I struggled to keep control of my hand and ignore the bulging in my jeans. My cock roared to be let free, but I was still new, I wasn't sure what he meant by "some class members can pose."
After ten minutes an alarm he had set went off and he said, "on to another pose, ten minutes everyone?" And with that he flipped over,
spread his legs, and pushed his package down and back. The pose was so fucking hot I could barely draw it. His ass was perfectly smooth, he had an awesome physique, the cutest little asshole, smooth perineum and a wonderful drape to his balls. It was a picture of Greek perfection, and my underwear was wet with the precum dribbling from my cock hole, my shaft thick with excitement, caged behind my zipper.I looked around the room, and to my surprise, one of the men had unzipped his pants and his fully erect cock was poking through his zipper hole, nearly purple with blood, engorged and looking in absolute desperation of some immediate attention. Obviously he was enjoying this as much as me, if not more. I looked around and no one seemed bothered by his outward advance. He just continued to draw, ignoring his erection intently. I found it hard to keep my eyes off his amazing display, despite the task at hand and the unbelievably candid pose shown by our host, Daniel.
When the ten minutes was up, I was too horny to go on, so I excused myself to the bathroom, and immediately jerked off into the sink. My mind raced, was this just a wet dream? If it was, I didn't want it to end. How could a group of people have a meeting like this, drawing cock-blowingly sexy things like this, remaining totally cool and calm? How could they not all be fucking on the floor by now? "This is making me so horny," I thought, looking at myself in the bathroom mirror. One damn toss into the sink wasn't going to do it. But I felt so shy, I had never ever been in this type of situation, and I was having a hard time just giving in to the urgings of my cock to rip off my clothes and fuck, blow, suck, and get fucked by everyone in the room. Fuck the drawing, I thought, let's just all fuck like wild dogs already.
Three deep breaths and I steeled the composure to return to the room. When I got back, things were the same pretty much, the guy still had his cock stiffly protruding from his pants, and he saw me look at it again and smiled when our eyes met. I gave him a playful wink and without any delay my dick was hard again in my jeans, which as many guys know can be a restrictive, uncomfortable compressing feeling. Some hard dicks simply don't fit into underwear and jeans.
Daniel had taken on another pose, this time turned on his back, legs spread, clenching his manhood, which had now become erect. He was squeezing it hard to keep the blood in for the full ten minutes. My cock, in the meantime, was having no trouble keeping the blood in, and the pressure was too much anymore, and I looked over jealously at the guy whose cock was pulled out, and feeling the increasing pulse unzipped my own pants and pulled out my aching cock. It throbbed at the glory of being free, and I met eyes of approval from the other guy. Daniel said from his pose, "I see our new member is enjoying the session," and everyone laughed, including me. What a great release to be in a room so exposed and feel so accepted and embraced really. It was awesome.After his pose, he told us that the first half of the session was over, and that there would be a group pose for the second half. Some of the couples left, and the rest stayed, including me. I was wondering if we would get to pose, I looked down at my cock and looked over to my other cock-bearing class member. He winked.
Daniel went back to an open easel, stayed nude, and two guys walked in who I hadn't seen before. They were both muscular and both hard as a rock. They got onto the table
and assumed a gay bondage-shaving pose that engorged my cock even more. Now this was crazy. Here I was in a room of guys, one of them with their cock out, one nude, and two guys posing on the table. "Where has this type of figure drawing class been all my life?" I said to my neighbor, the guy with his cock out too."Where have YOU been?" he teased.
That sent me into orbit. I frantically finished my drawing, eagerly watching the clock for the end of the session. Daniel had given them 20 minutes for this pose, and my cock was dripping with juice. The timer rang, and at that moment the other guy walked over to me, knelt in front of me and gave me a blow job right there while I watched the models kiss and fondle each others dicks. I came in a flood down his throat, zipped up, and Daniel said, "I trust we'll be seeing you for next week's session?"
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
Flaccid Phallic Ruminations
There is just something innocent and inherently cute about a flaccid cock. While soft, it poses no threat of penetration, has no sexual prowess, it's merely a cluster of flesh arranged as a bladder drain, nothing more than a utilitarian dangle tube.
Hairy flaccid dicks act like little turtle heads peeking out from scarfed necks, timid and trembling. They look like eels backing into a furry cave, acting simultaneously confident in, and terrified by, their surroundings. The natural state of male genitals is like an uprooted bush, a tangly mess of protective fur for the vulnerable package to take refuge.
Uncircumcised soft dicks conjure images of aardvarks and elephants, the tips having a nasal, woodwind-like cone of folded flesh, a carrot tip of epidermal overburden. Like a funky, skinny turnip with a pulse.
Uncircumcised soft dicks conjure images of aardvarks and elephants, the tips having a nasal, woodwind-like cone of folded flesh, a carrot tip of epidermal overburden. Like a funky, skinny turnip with a pulse.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Libido Shifts to Asexual
Last few days I can barely find a pic, clip, video or anything get off. I don't feel sexy. I'm turned off by the idea sex. I'm exhausted with trying to get my thoughts out on this blog, I feel totally asexual and I don't know how long this will last. Ho hum.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Cock Shot a Day
There's a popular YouTube video where a guy took a picture of himself for like three years and then compiled and posted it. The moment I saw it I wanted to do the same for my cock. A webcam shot a day for many months, then post on the web. This blog gives me the platform to do that.
So three days ago I started my project. I doubt I'll be able to get a shot a day - exactly - but the cumulative effect will be the same. It might actually be better, since the cock is much more expressive and takes on a variety of shapes, sizes, and positions daily, so I bet there'll be a sporadic, improvised quality to it.
I'm looking forward to completing my project, once there are enough pics for a small clip I will post a preview.
UPDATE: I just saw this post and said OH SHIT! It reminded me I'm supposed to be doing this damn project. I'm 5 days behind on my daily shots, so I'm not sure if I should start over, catch up and fake it, or give up entirely. There's few things I remember to do every single day, and taking a snapshot of my dick ain't one of 'em. I must be lazy. I want to see the end result -- a moving collage of 365 sequential cock photos -- but don't want to have to commit to what it's going to take to get there.
So three days ago I started my project. I doubt I'll be able to get a shot a day - exactly - but the cumulative effect will be the same. It might actually be better, since the cock is much more expressive and takes on a variety of shapes, sizes, and positions daily, so I bet there'll be a sporadic, improvised quality to it.
I'm looking forward to completing my project, once there are enough pics for a small clip I will post a preview.
UPDATE: I just saw this post and said OH SHIT! It reminded me I'm supposed to be doing this damn project. I'm 5 days behind on my daily shots, so I'm not sure if I should start over, catch up and fake it, or give up entirely. There's few things I remember to do every single day, and taking a snapshot of my dick ain't one of 'em. I must be lazy. I want to see the end result -- a moving collage of 365 sequential cock photos -- but don't want to have to commit to what it's going to take to get there.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
True Confessions: Video Snooper
I once rented a room in this large house with a bunch of guys living there. One day one of them said, "dude, Clint's gay."
"Gay?"
"Yeah man I looked in his room and found some fucking gay pornographic material, dude."
"Huh, I didn't know he was gay," I said nonchalantly. I didn't care if Clint was gay or not, but what first concerned me was my roommate's snooping. If he'd been in Clint's room, he'd certainly been in mine. The second thing that concerned me was that I immediately had an urge to go find the material for myself.
Within a day or two I gave in to my urges to go find the stuff. I hated the idea of sneaking into Clint's room, but this was nearly a full decade before I admitted my sexuality, so I hadn't yet wanted to go as so far as to actually buy gay porn, and this was my chance to check it out for free, without obligation. I couldn't resist.
In his closet I found a few photocopies of twinks shaving their assholes. It was kind of wild and kinky, I said to myself, "I didn't know they did that." But it didn't turn me on. Then I found a VHS cassette that said "Wrestling" on it and went to my room with it. I had gone this far so despite the sickening feelings of confusion, I wasn't going to not look at the video.
It started out just two beefy guys wrestling in a small gym. They were wearing typical wrestling trunks but no tops and soon they were wrangling on the floor. "This is weird shit," I thought, "Clint gets off on this kind of stuff?" Then one of the wrestlers spun around and stuffed his crotch in the other guys face and started humping. The match became more sexual, and turned into a domination contest of stuffing the other's face with their bulges through their shorts. Then they took off their shorts.
I couldn't tell if I was repulsed, repelled, or repressed, but I didn't really like it. I didn't get hard. So I put the video away, and figured I wasn't gay.
"Gay?"
"Yeah man I looked in his room and found some fucking gay pornographic material, dude."
"Huh, I didn't know he was gay," I said nonchalantly. I didn't care if Clint was gay or not, but what first concerned me was my roommate's snooping. If he'd been in Clint's room, he'd certainly been in mine. The second thing that concerned me was that I immediately had an urge to go find the material for myself.
Within a day or two I gave in to my urges to go find the stuff. I hated the idea of sneaking into Clint's room, but this was nearly a full decade before I admitted my sexuality, so I hadn't yet wanted to go as so far as to actually buy gay porn, and this was my chance to check it out for free, without obligation. I couldn't resist.
In his closet I found a few photocopies of twinks shaving their assholes. It was kind of wild and kinky, I said to myself, "I didn't know they did that." But it didn't turn me on. Then I found a VHS cassette that said "Wrestling" on it and went to my room with it. I had gone this far so despite the sickening feelings of confusion, I wasn't going to not look at the video.
It started out just two beefy guys wrestling in a small gym. They were wearing typical wrestling trunks but no tops and soon they were wrangling on the floor. "This is weird shit," I thought, "Clint gets off on this kind of stuff?" Then one of the wrestlers spun around and stuffed his crotch in the other guys face and started humping. The match became more sexual, and turned into a domination contest of stuffing the other's face with their bulges through their shorts. Then they took off their shorts.
I couldn't tell if I was repulsed, repelled, or repressed, but I didn't really like it. I didn't get hard. So I put the video away, and figured I wasn't gay.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Hiatus Needed
I've been so busy remodeling my house, I haven't had much time to devote to this blog. Here's some pics to hold you over while I get back up to speed. I've been too busy to masturbate, let alone offer a window into the psyche of one budding bisexual. I'll be back as soon as I can!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Gay Urges Explained
Lately I've been masturbating to gay material pretty much exclusively.
I don't know if this is because I'm becoming more gay, less bisexual, or if I'm gearing up for my first experience, or if I'm finally giving up on women or what. It's weird because usually I'm pretty self aware and clued-in to what's going on inside of me. This one is kind of confusing though. I've been on the gay/straight fence for so long, sometimes I wonder if I'm hanging on to bisexuality in the hopes that there's a women out there for me. It's like I'm afraid to give up on women, afraid to totally disavow my attraction to them, for fear that I'd be letting something go that I still want. But then the pain of failure surfaces again and I immediately feel the bitterness bubble up... They make it so hard! And I'm not just talking about my dick.
I simply want my cock worshiped. I don't care what gender gives it the attention it needs, just as long as I'm attracted to them, and as long as they treat my trouser snake like a friggin' king-god. Kneel before it, kiss it, lick it, suck it, shower it with love and affection. Treat it like an altar, a sacrament, show it respect and admiration. Force it down your throat, expertly guide it deep into your ass. Love every inch.
The most alluring thing about having a gay experience is the assumption that
my cock will be treated to the attentive affections of someone who knows what the hell they are doing. What makes dicks feel good is no mystery to gay men. They understand cock intimately, what it craves, what makes it tick. The penis is not an extraordinarily complex organ, yet it can shrivel in the hands of the inexperienced and the timid.
I want to be naked on a bed, lean back with my hands behind my head, and have some muscular masseuse oil my engine and coax out a cumload. I want an intimate massage from some hot beefcake, and see him get hard through high-cut silky gym shorts. Then reach out while he stands over me and stroke his cum out all over my chest and abs.
I don't know if this is because I'm becoming more gay, less bisexual, or if I'm gearing up for my first experience, or if I'm finally giving up on women or what. It's weird because usually I'm pretty self aware and clued-in to what's going on inside of me. This one is kind of confusing though. I've been on the gay/straight fence for so long, sometimes I wonder if I'm hanging on to bisexuality in the hopes that there's a women out there for me. It's like I'm afraid to give up on women, afraid to totally disavow my attraction to them, for fear that I'd be letting something go that I still want. But then the pain of failure surfaces again and I immediately feel the bitterness bubble up... They make it so hard! And I'm not just talking about my dick.
I simply want my cock worshiped. I don't care what gender gives it the attention it needs, just as long as I'm attracted to them, and as long as they treat my trouser snake like a friggin' king-god. Kneel before it, kiss it, lick it, suck it, shower it with love and affection. Treat it like an altar, a sacrament, show it respect and admiration. Force it down your throat, expertly guide it deep into your ass. Love every inch.The most alluring thing about having a gay experience is the assumption that
my cock will be treated to the attentive affections of someone who knows what the hell they are doing. What makes dicks feel good is no mystery to gay men. They understand cock intimately, what it craves, what makes it tick. The penis is not an extraordinarily complex organ, yet it can shrivel in the hands of the inexperienced and the timid.I want to be naked on a bed, lean back with my hands behind my head, and have some muscular masseuse oil my engine and coax out a cumload. I want an intimate massage from some hot beefcake, and see him get hard through high-cut silky gym shorts. Then reach out while he stands over me and stroke his cum out all over my chest and abs.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Gotta Go Gay To Get Off
A few months ago I was whacking off to hard core teens, and I simply could not get off. At the time my longing and loneliness for women seemed particularly strong, and I realized the residual pain was affecting my libido. I switched to naked men and cock closeups, and came to orgasm quickly. It occurred to me that because no man has broken my heart, it seems easier to get off on men sometimes.
I don't know if my interest in men purely sexual, I haven't had enough experience with them to know. And the notion that only women can break my heart is preposterous. I'm sure once I start seeing men they will hurt me just as much as women, but it hasn't happened yet. It's kind of nice, I'm living a gay-virgin innocence. It makes the idea of a gay encounter as exciting as my first sexual encounters in my late teens.
Because my heart is not involved in gay fantasies, men end up being more attractive than women. Jerking off to pictures of hot guys doesn't leave me feeling inadequate, thinking, "I could never get that," because guys I actually have a chance at getting. They have a more casual view of sex than most women. So for now, my sexual fantasies of men are pure and innocent, and haven't been spoiled by reality.
I don't know if my interest in men purely sexual, I haven't had enough experience with them to know. And the notion that only women can break my heart is preposterous. I'm sure once I start seeing men they will hurt me just as much as women, but it hasn't happened yet. It's kind of nice, I'm living a gay-virgin innocence. It makes the idea of a gay encounter as exciting as my first sexual encounters in my late teens.
Because my heart is not involved in gay fantasies, men end up being more attractive than women. Jerking off to pictures of hot guys doesn't leave me feeling inadequate, thinking, "I could never get that," because guys I actually have a chance at getting. They have a more casual view of sex than most women. So for now, my sexual fantasies of men are pure and innocent, and haven't been spoiled by reality.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Closet Dweller Blues
Wouldn't my life be easier out of the closet? I'd rather keep my personal business to myself, but at the same time all this sneaking around is bullshit. I have to worry about leaving out gay pornos or not closing 
gay-surfed browser windows, friends come over unannounced and might see the stuff by accident. So that makes me think that at least if they knew, it wouldn't be such a surprise if they saw that my screensaver is a closeup of a big hard cock.
And if I fell in love with a man, I'd have to hide it from my parents or come out. So it might be better to just explain to my mom and dad that my sexuality is open, that I might date a man or a woman, and I am open to all possibilities. Then if I did meet a guy, it wouldn't be a shock to them, and they would have much less chance of misunderstanding. I'm not afraid that they would disown me, just that we are so close that they might be hurt that I didn't tell them earlier, before I brought home a "serious interest" who turned out to be a dude.
My brother pretty much knows already, though I never officially told him my bisexual discovery. Years ago I told him I thought I might be gay, and he said if I didn't know for sure by thirty I was probably bisexual. He even said he kissed a boy in college. I was like, "what was that like?" He said, "pretty much just like kissing a girl."
My best friend probably wouldn't care, he has supported me no matter what I have ever done in my life. We have been friends for 22 years, and he's stuck with me through some fucked up phases in my life. I think he might be a little uncomfortable with it, but he's already primed - his wife's friend's ex-husband just came out as bisexual.
My good friend here in town is the one who thinks people are all gay or not. So he'd probably be OK with me being gay, that's the way he'd have to understand it, I think. Because he wouldn't understand bisexual. So whatever.
The only person in my life that I think would have a really big problem with it is my business partner. He considers me his best friend, and far as I know he's against
homosexuality. He was raised religiously, and thinks people can do whatever they want, but also thinks it's wrong. So coming out to him might put a strain on my professional life.
But other than that there's no one I can think of who is really important to me that would really have a serious problem. I have already disowned my most homophobic friends already for other reasons.
So I think I should probably come out, but since I'm only a theoretical bisexual - a virgin - how can I be sure I like gay sex? I like to jerk off to gay porn, and not much man-on-man action "bothers" be anymore. Not sure if I'm desensitized, or just found my inner gay; but I think I should have my first real gay experience to be sure that I don't false-alarm my friends and family.
gay-surfed browser windows, friends come over unannounced and might see the stuff by accident. So that makes me think that at least if they knew, it wouldn't be such a surprise if they saw that my screensaver is a closeup of a big hard cock.And if I fell in love with a man, I'd have to hide it from my parents or come out. So it might be better to just explain to my mom and dad that my sexuality is open, that I might date a man or a woman, and I am open to all possibilities. Then if I did meet a guy, it wouldn't be a shock to them, and they would have much less chance of misunderstanding. I'm not afraid that they would disown me, just that we are so close that they might be hurt that I didn't tell them earlier, before I brought home a "serious interest" who turned out to be a dude.
My brother pretty much knows already, though I never officially told him my bisexual discovery. Years ago I told him I thought I might be gay, and he said if I didn't know for sure by thirty I was probably bisexual. He even said he kissed a boy in college. I was like, "what was that like?" He said, "pretty much just like kissing a girl."
My best friend probably wouldn't care, he has supported me no matter what I have ever done in my life. We have been friends for 22 years, and he's stuck with me through some fucked up phases in my life. I think he might be a little uncomfortable with it, but he's already primed - his wife's friend's ex-husband just came out as bisexual.
My good friend here in town is the one who thinks people are all gay or not. So he'd probably be OK with me being gay, that's the way he'd have to understand it, I think. Because he wouldn't understand bisexual. So whatever.
The only person in my life that I think would have a really big problem with it is my business partner. He considers me his best friend, and far as I know he's against
homosexuality. He was raised religiously, and thinks people can do whatever they want, but also thinks it's wrong. So coming out to him might put a strain on my professional life.But other than that there's no one I can think of who is really important to me that would really have a serious problem. I have already disowned my most homophobic friends already for other reasons.
So I think I should probably come out, but since I'm only a theoretical bisexual - a virgin - how can I be sure I like gay sex? I like to jerk off to gay porn, and not much man-on-man action "bothers" be anymore. Not sure if I'm desensitized, or just found my inner gay; but I think I should have my first real gay experience to be sure that I don't false-alarm my friends and family.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
Forced Objectification
I was thinking more about misogyny and yesterday's post, and decided I had more to say to get my mind around this.
My bad luck with women has led to a total loss of faith in the female species. I keep telling myself that I can't blame all women for the heartache and pain cause by those in the past, and that I need to move on. But the problem is that my relationships with women have only gotten more fake, contrived, and more difficult to understand. Things have not gotten better as I've gotten older, which is contrary to my life philosophy. Life is supposed to improve. Relationships are supposed to grow from one to the next, only that hasn't been the case.
Seven years ago my heart was utterly destroyed by a woman whom I was madly in love with. Her callous, casual way of breaking it off really devalued what we had had together, from my perspective. She did not honor or respect our connection, and the pain from the way she left me has remained unhealed. After seven fucking years, I am still a shell of a man.
Since then I have been unable to secure so much as a second date, let alone have a deep and meaningful relationship to help steer me away from the despair that she left me in. Something to help restore my self confidence, and perhaps most importantly, restore my faith in women. Because from where I'm standing, looking back on this road I have traveled, it would be hard for me to believe any of them had a heart. And that leaves me in this ridiculous state of self-pity, desperately hoping some fantastic woman who truly cares about me will somehow come along, someone who will rescue me like on e-fucking-Harmony. But that is a pipe dream that I cannot continue.
So they see the bitterness and hatred, they see that I am jaded, and they must think, "ahh, no pussy for him." Then they might think to themselves that I objectify women once they see how desperate I am. And women do have this sixth sense for desperation, like dogs can smell fear, and as soon as she notices you staring at her cleavage, or catching a glimpse of other women in the room, she might call you a womanizer, a pig, or a jerk... or maybe she'll slap you, dump her drink over your head. Why not humiliate you? After all, it is her right.
Now this is where my misogynistic feelings really start to boil, when I realize that women objectify themselves, but then demonize men for reacting to it naturally. It is such a double edged sword, yet some men have learned to play the game masterfully. They get pussy by not acting like they want it. They get her to think getting laid was her idea. It's amazing. Only thing is I'm not that guy. That's too dishonest for me, too much of a charade. So instead I end up glancing too much, too often, or too long, at whatever irresistibly sexy part she's got out for display, and then I get placed squarely into the NO PUSSY ZONE.
It's like they're fishing without a hook. They'll tease me with the bait, but they don't really want to catch me. So I get no action once again, go to the strip club and then home to porn surf... and hey guess what, all I'm getting out of the deal is OBJECTS. Is there any question why women are objectified?
My bad luck with women has led to a total loss of faith in the female species. I keep telling myself that I can't blame all women for the heartache and pain cause by those in the past, and that I need to move on. But the problem is that my relationships with women have only gotten more fake, contrived, and more difficult to understand. Things have not gotten better as I've gotten older, which is contrary to my life philosophy. Life is supposed to improve. Relationships are supposed to grow from one to the next, only that hasn't been the case.
Seven years ago my heart was utterly destroyed by a woman whom I was madly in love with. Her callous, casual way of breaking it off really devalued what we had had together, from my perspective. She did not honor or respect our connection, and the pain from the way she left me has remained unhealed. After seven fucking years, I am still a shell of a man.
Since then I have been unable to secure so much as a second date, let alone have a deep and meaningful relationship to help steer me away from the despair that she left me in. Something to help restore my self confidence, and perhaps most importantly, restore my faith in women. Because from where I'm standing, looking back on this road I have traveled, it would be hard for me to believe any of them had a heart. And that leaves me in this ridiculous state of self-pity, desperately hoping some fantastic woman who truly cares about me will somehow come along, someone who will rescue me like on e-fucking-Harmony. But that is a pipe dream that I cannot continue.
So they see the bitterness and hatred, they see that I am jaded, and they must think, "ahh, no pussy for him." Then they might think to themselves that I objectify women once they see how desperate I am. And women do have this sixth sense for desperation, like dogs can smell fear, and as soon as she notices you staring at her cleavage, or catching a glimpse of other women in the room, she might call you a womanizer, a pig, or a jerk... or maybe she'll slap you, dump her drink over your head. Why not humiliate you? After all, it is her right.
Now this is where my misogynistic feelings really start to boil, when I realize that women objectify themselves, but then demonize men for reacting to it naturally. It is such a double edged sword, yet some men have learned to play the game masterfully. They get pussy by not acting like they want it. They get her to think getting laid was her idea. It's amazing. Only thing is I'm not that guy. That's too dishonest for me, too much of a charade. So instead I end up glancing too much, too often, or too long, at whatever irresistibly sexy part she's got out for display, and then I get placed squarely into the NO PUSSY ZONE.
It's like they're fishing without a hook. They'll tease me with the bait, but they don't really want to catch me. So I get no action once again, go to the strip club and then home to porn surf... and hey guess what, all I'm getting out of the deal is OBJECTS. Is there any question why women are objectified?
Thursday, September 11, 2008
On Gayness and Misogyny
Misogyny is defined as the hatred of women. So, what about sexual hatred of women? I had this thought the other day, as I was reflecting on my path to get where I am now with my sexuality. I wondered if my bisexuality is just a natural outcome of my failures with women. Am I so embittered and hurt that I'm intensifying my gay urges, focusing on them, when it's nothing more than pure, unmitigated desperation?
Women always seem threatened by me. I am an intense person, yes, but I think that my outward honesty and the fact that I "wear my emotions on my sleeve" just turns them off. Women have an uncanny way of being able to sniff out my desperation, so it has a snowball effect. The less I get laid, the less chance I have of getting laid. It is one of life's cruel ironies. I don't know if I have an angry or violent vibe (with what I've been through I suppose I do), but I always strike out with women. I have not had a relationship in seven years, though I have been "dating" this whole time, and that's a whole other tragic story too lengthy and off-topic for this post.
A few years ago when I was exploring my inner feelings, mustering the courage to face my gayness, I asked a gay friend of mine how and why he knew he was homosexual. He said, "I'm gay because of my mother." I didn't question his reason, or ask him to go into it further. I wish I had now, because I wonder if his gayness is an expression of misogyny. Did something happen to make him hate his mother, and that hatred now extends to all women? Or was he merely saying that she gave him the "gay gene"? Regardless, the whole idea of blame in being gay doesn't make sense to me anymore. Blame is nothing more than a transference of guilt.
As I become more distanced, more lonely, more desperate, I become less and less attractive to women. This leads to a feeling of helplessness, because each interaction with women becomes worse than the last. Soon I am practically weighing jail time against pussy. Should I just get a whore, or worse, rape my way to satisfaction? With the seemingly impossible task of ever getting any pussy again in my life, cock gets more attractive by the minute.
Women always seem threatened by me. I am an intense person, yes, but I think that my outward honesty and the fact that I "wear my emotions on my sleeve" just turns them off. Women have an uncanny way of being able to sniff out my desperation, so it has a snowball effect. The less I get laid, the less chance I have of getting laid. It is one of life's cruel ironies. I don't know if I have an angry or violent vibe (with what I've been through I suppose I do), but I always strike out with women. I have not had a relationship in seven years, though I have been "dating" this whole time, and that's a whole other tragic story too lengthy and off-topic for this post.
A few years ago when I was exploring my inner feelings, mustering the courage to face my gayness, I asked a gay friend of mine how and why he knew he was homosexual. He said, "I'm gay because of my mother." I didn't question his reason, or ask him to go into it further. I wish I had now, because I wonder if his gayness is an expression of misogyny. Did something happen to make him hate his mother, and that hatred now extends to all women? Or was he merely saying that she gave him the "gay gene"? Regardless, the whole idea of blame in being gay doesn't make sense to me anymore. Blame is nothing more than a transference of guilt.
As I become more distanced, more lonely, more desperate, I become less and less attractive to women. This leads to a feeling of helplessness, because each interaction with women becomes worse than the last. Soon I am practically weighing jail time against pussy. Should I just get a whore, or worse, rape my way to satisfaction? With the seemingly impossible task of ever getting any pussy again in my life, cock gets more attractive by the minute.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Gay Friendly TV
I like Bravo TV, they have fairly decent shows. I like Project Runway (Heidi Klum is so friggin hot!), Flipping Out, Million Dollar Listing, in particular. And Kathy Griffin's D-List show is pretty funny, but the other shows I don't pay all that much attention to.What I like about Bravo most is the gay friendly programming. A lot of the characters are gay, but they don't make a big deal out of it. It's just treated as a normal thing, and it is normal. My point is that most TV shows treat gayness as a joke, like Will & Grace, which is still essentially homophobic. Bravo, on the other hand, does not make gayness the focus of a joke, but treats it as a simple fact of life. Many of the characters who are obviously gay don't make a point of coming out on the show, like Tim Gunn. It's not about their gayness, it's about them, not the fact that they are gay. They are just regular people. That's why I like it.
Another program I've seen that's gay friendly is on MTV. It's a dating show called Next. They have straight, gay, and lesbian versions of the show, but treat each one equally the same, no difference except who is going after who. I think that's cool, that a network like MTV, that caters to young people, treats gay dating as no different than straight dating. Good for them.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Cocks Have Character!
I think male genitalia is beautiful. Cock, balls, yeah it's a beautiful thing. About ten years ago I hadn't realized this yet, although I had this overwhelming urge to photograph my own cock. It had been a
lingering fantasy for a long time, but this was before the days of digital technology. Photos had to be professionally printed at the time, and the technician was sure to see.The first closeup I took of myself naked was with film, outdoors, on top of a large rock outcrop. The feeling was amazing, my cock stiffened immediately under the attention of the lens. At that moment I realized that a lot of the thrill of watching pornos was imagining fucking someone under all those lights and cameras, that the exhibitionism aspect was that much more enhanced. Once my cock and balls got out there under the sun, exposed and scrutinized, knowing that the film technician would get an anonymous glimpse of my sunlit erection, I knew that I wanted more. I craved having my cock the focus of the lens.
My first digital camera was purchased practically with the sole intent of taking lurid closeups of my dick. I wanted to document every stage of erectness, every shape, size and character that my cock is capable of. But for years I couldn't even get a shot of it soft, because every time I reached for the camera to take a picture of it in that stage, it would bulge up before I 
could even turn the camera on. To this day I have not gotten a shot of my dick in the most flaccid, shrunken turtle head way it gets, because it always reacts a little bit before I get the picture off. That shot of my smallest state has alluded me like the giant squid alluded science.
could even turn the camera on. To this day I have not gotten a shot of my dick in the most flaccid, shrunken turtle head way it gets, because it always reacts a little bit before I get the picture off. That shot of my smallest state has alluded me like the giant squid alluded science.Erections are monumental symbols of power, strength and pride, standing tall and firm. They are like pillars of sex, a flesh obelisk of pulsing, throbbing, cum delivering passion. Cock is a pipe organ of pleasure, a heat seeking missile designed to fuck. The shape is purely penetrative, intended to deliver the payload as effectively as possible.
A cock wants to feel its head pushing against a wet hole, to feel the rim succumb to its stiff mass, to feel its head part open the entry and slide in. To be gripped on all sides, enveloped in warmth moisture, to be sliding in and out, plunging in balls deep, the smooth friction along the shaft and tickling of the head, this is why a cock exists in this world: to fuck.
Some cocks stick up, some straight out, some straight down, some one side or the other, some curved, some bent. Cocks come in as many shapes, types and sizes as trees, and each one has infinite stages of hard to soft, shriveled to swollen. Individualistic and unique veining, ripples along the shaft, a muscular thickness, aggressive character, and a sinewy, tenacious sexual physique.
The ball sack that accompanies the dick has just as many personality moods, stretching, bending, moving, adjusting. It is the temperature regulator, pulling the nuts in close when cold and letting them out when hot, constantly adapting to microscopic environmental factors.
It wasn't long after I started photographing and filming my own cock that I accepted the urge to see other guys cocks. Just to compare, I told myself at first, but soon I was collecting favorite cock shots off the internet. This is the first cock pic I ever saved (left), I just had to have this amazing beautiful black snake. Not long after that, having jerked off to my own masturbation videos so many times, I gave in to the urge to watch another guy jerk off, and I bought a gay masturbation video. Soon after that I bought my first gay prono.
It has all been a progression of acceptance, becoming self aware, and brave enough to admit that I love cock. And to not judge myself for that, but to embrace it, own it, love it, and act upon it.
A cock wants to feel its head pushing against a wet hole, to feel the rim succumb to its stiff mass, to feel its head part open the entry and slide in. To be gripped on all sides, enveloped in warmth moisture, to be sliding in and out, plunging in balls deep, the smooth friction along the shaft and tickling of the head, this is why a cock exists in this world: to fuck.
Some cocks stick up, some straight out, some straight down, some one side or the other, some curved, some bent. Cocks come in as many shapes, types and sizes as trees, and each one has infinite stages of hard to soft, shriveled to swollen. Individualistic and unique veining, ripples along the shaft, a muscular thickness, aggressive character, and a sinewy, tenacious sexual physique.
The ball sack that accompanies the dick has just as many personality moods, stretching, bending, moving, adjusting. It is the temperature regulator, pulling the nuts in close when cold and letting them out when hot, constantly adapting to microscopic environmental factors.
It wasn't long after I started photographing and filming my own cock that I accepted the urge to see other guys cocks. Just to compare, I told myself at first, but soon I was collecting favorite cock shots off the internet. This is the first cock pic I ever saved (left), I just had to have this amazing beautiful black snake. Not long after that, having jerked off to my own masturbation videos so many times, I gave in to the urge to watch another guy jerk off, and I bought a gay masturbation video. Soon after that I bought my first gay prono.It has all been a progression of acceptance, becoming self aware, and brave enough to admit that I love cock. And to not judge myself for that, but to embrace it, own it, love it, and act upon it.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Pendulum Away From the Pedestal
Since I've been writing this blog, I've been more clued in to my sex drive on a daily basis. Writing about sexy things every day has got me feeling horny most of the time. My posts are often spontaneous, but when I'm writing my stories, I usually take a few days to play out the scenarios in my head, and decide how I want the story to go. During this time I am constantly thinking about sexual fantasies and flirtatious situations.
I like to have photos accompany my short stories, so I'll do a lot of porn surfing looking for the right pic. Several times I have found something different than what I was looking for, but something so hot that I have to grab hold of my cock and jerk off right there. This constant stimulation can add days to when a story I'm writing actually gets published, as I keep getting distracted with all the porn surfing and wanking.
My libido has been swinging from straight to gay lately, leaving not much else in between. The other week when I was writing about ex-girlfriends and the pleasures of pussy, my sex drive was focused on women, all my porn surfing dedicated to jerking off to pictures of hot, young, naked women.
Last week, though, I have felt scantly the urge to stroke my love muscle to pictures of women. I've only been surfing for pictures of big beautiful cocks, cute fuckable guys, pert shaved little assholes,
muscular asses, shoulders, hips and thighs. My dreams have been consumed with a lust for cock. Pussy has barely even crossed my mind.
I'm generally a shy person, and I think that's what keeps me from going out and trying to hook up. Although I have only thus far fantasized about gay sex, somehow it doesn't seem like it would be that hard to get. Guys love to fuck. I'm sure women do too, but our society has this crazy prude/slut dilemma in which women use the prospect of sex for manipulation. My impression is that most women don't really like sex on a fundamental level, but they know men do, so they use it as a tool to manipulate men into doing what they want. They use pussy as leverage to control them.
Whereas between two men, they know the whole point is to get laid, there's no misunderstanding there. And they haven't had all this Cinderella, glass slipper, Knight in Shining Armor bullshit driven down their throats their whole life. They haven't been tricked by this damsel in distress imagery that makes American women think their cunts are the holy grail, a secret treasure only to be deployed when she thinks he might be her Prince Charming, a lure to get that ring on her finger. Then the majority of men who commit to traditional marriage have put the pussy on a pedestal, and rarely ever get to see it again. Countless married men have proven this theory.
Now, I'm sure there are exceptions to every rule, and sexual dynamics are greater than my atrophied perspective. I imagine much of my impetus for the development of this theory has been my overall difficulty in assuming the roles required of men to "get laid" by American women [Side note: American women are mostly prude in their home country, though I have heard they cut loose overseas]. The behavior publicly displayed by men to try to get in some chick's pants is nothing short of comical.
I'm looking forward to testing my theory at the gay bar. It's not a matter of not having the opportunity, it's a matter of going outside of my comfort range to allow the prospect to arise. But once I'm there, I have a feeling that talking to guys and hooking up will feel more natural and not as contrived as in the hetero world. Women demand a mind-boggling array of flips, jumps, hoops, performance tests, shell games, mystery and silent innuendo to get into their pants. Men will take yours off for you.
I like to have photos accompany my short stories, so I'll do a lot of porn surfing looking for the right pic. Several times I have found something different than what I was looking for, but something so hot that I have to grab hold of my cock and jerk off right there. This constant stimulation can add days to when a story I'm writing actually gets published, as I keep getting distracted with all the porn surfing and wanking.
My libido has been swinging from straight to gay lately, leaving not much else in between. The other week when I was writing about ex-girlfriends and the pleasures of pussy, my sex drive was focused on women, all my porn surfing dedicated to jerking off to pictures of hot, young, naked women.
Last week, though, I have felt scantly the urge to stroke my love muscle to pictures of women. I've only been surfing for pictures of big beautiful cocks, cute fuckable guys, pert shaved little assholes,
muscular asses, shoulders, hips and thighs. My dreams have been consumed with a lust for cock. Pussy has barely even crossed my mind.I'm generally a shy person, and I think that's what keeps me from going out and trying to hook up. Although I have only thus far fantasized about gay sex, somehow it doesn't seem like it would be that hard to get. Guys love to fuck. I'm sure women do too, but our society has this crazy prude/slut dilemma in which women use the prospect of sex for manipulation. My impression is that most women don't really like sex on a fundamental level, but they know men do, so they use it as a tool to manipulate men into doing what they want. They use pussy as leverage to control them.
Whereas between two men, they know the whole point is to get laid, there's no misunderstanding there. And they haven't had all this Cinderella, glass slipper, Knight in Shining Armor bullshit driven down their throats their whole life. They haven't been tricked by this damsel in distress imagery that makes American women think their cunts are the holy grail, a secret treasure only to be deployed when she thinks he might be her Prince Charming, a lure to get that ring on her finger. Then the majority of men who commit to traditional marriage have put the pussy on a pedestal, and rarely ever get to see it again. Countless married men have proven this theory.
Now, I'm sure there are exceptions to every rule, and sexual dynamics are greater than my atrophied perspective. I imagine much of my impetus for the development of this theory has been my overall difficulty in assuming the roles required of men to "get laid" by American women [Side note: American women are mostly prude in their home country, though I have heard they cut loose overseas]. The behavior publicly displayed by men to try to get in some chick's pants is nothing short of comical.
I'm looking forward to testing my theory at the gay bar. It's not a matter of not having the opportunity, it's a matter of going outside of my comfort range to allow the prospect to arise. But once I'm there, I have a feeling that talking to guys and hooking up will feel more natural and not as contrived as in the hetero world. Women demand a mind-boggling array of flips, jumps, hoops, performance tests, shell games, mystery and silent innuendo to get into their pants. Men will take yours off for you.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Japanese Spa Fantasy
I went to our local Japanese Spa for a soak in the hot springs. Once in the locker room, as I undressed and put my stuff in my locker and got on on my robe, I remembered that my cock and balls were perfectly groomed. That morning I had given myself a beautiful sculpted manscaping, and as I made my way to the clothing-optional hot tubs, I caught myself secretly hoping someone would notice.
I slipped off my robe and hung it on a peg. Fortunately there were only a few people in the main tub, no kids, just a young couple speaking quietly, some nude sunbathers on the benches, and one other man who appeared to be alone. The couple was in their own world and barely saw me getting into the tub, but I noticed the man catching a glimpse of my groomed package as I slid into the water. A knowing smile emerged from the corner of his lips, and he cast me a glance and raised his eyebrows. I rarely come to the spa, and I had heard straight guys
complain about being hit on by gay men there. Being the adventurous soul that I am, I wanted to see what that would be like. Looks like I was getting my wish.I sat next to the ladder, enjoying the warmth of the water and the cool air on my neck and shoulders. Within minutes the couple got out of the tub and went over to the sauna. Of course I sneaked a peek of them on their way out of the tub, it's simply my nature. The guy said as soon as they were out of earshot “I couldn’t help but notice your trim job... Are you gay?” I thought this was rather forward of him, but figured his curiosity was justified. Probably more gay men shave and groom their cocks than straight men, I thought.
“No, not exactly,” I tease, "but I'm not against it either."
We introduce, and he casually said, “I have a private tub reserved in ten minutes... care to join me?”
My dick perked up and swelled under the water with the offer. "I'll have to wait a few minutes... you just got me hard." I smiled coyly and he laughed.
We talked about this and that, current events, politics, just basically small talk. I kept the subjects off of anything that my dick might mistake for a reason to get hard again. Even at 38 my libido seems like it's just as strong as it was when I was 18. I never got over crude humor, never stopped thinking about sex constantly, never stopped jerking off daily. So my cock has this way of responding to titillating conversation and if I was going to get out of that tub, I wasn't going to have the patrons complaining to the office about erections, which I had heard about before at this place. Apparently some of the men weren't waiting until they got to the private tubs and some families had rightfully been offended. So the place was on high alert.
His name came over the intercom, "Paul, Paul, your private tub is ready." As we got out of the tub I was trying desperately to keep from dwelling on the opportunity I was about to have. I tried not to think about the people that would see us getting out together and the fact that I'm in the closet. I tried not to look up his ass at his nuts as he
got out. I tried so hard to stay cool but instead I got hard again, and I climbed up out of the pool with a half hard dick and grabbed for my robe and put it on as fast as I could. I don't think anyone noticed, but I'm sure he did.We walked down the path to the private tub. This Japanese Spa has themed private rooms and courtyards that have tubs at varying degrees with a sauna, a garden and places to lay out in the sun. This was the Jade Room, once we disrobed we got into the water. The time for talking had passed, it was clear why he had invited me here.
Sitting across the tub from each other on opposing benches, we looked into each other's eyes, silently flirting. Our feet met under the warm water and we touched, inching our feet up each other's legs, up to the knee and past the thigh, and soon our feet were in our crotches, massaging ourselves. It was very sensuous and different than anything I've experienced before, just casual touching and silent communication.
He floated over close to me and we embraced, our cocks entangling under the surface like water snakes. We kissed, he nibbled my neck and I tried hard not to let out a sigh, knowing that the outdoor private tub was still within earshot of the very public path. The spa was supposed to be a quiet place to meditate. Affection and sex were frowned upon there, after all it was a family establishment, not a wild gay sex club! It was important to stay calm, cool, and collected.
I reached under the water and cupped his balls with my hand, we kissed deeper, and he pushed himself on me in a subtly aggressive way. I could tell he was getting pretty horny and wanted to fuck me in the ass.
With the pressure of his physical advance, it was probably good that I told him I only top. He seemed disappointed, but said he understood, and asked if I wanted to go into the sauna so he could suck me off. It was clear he was looking for a little bit more action than just kissing and touching, so I backed away from him, got up out of the water and leaned back in the sun. "Let's just stay here."
He moved over to me and put his arms up on my thighs, took my cock in his hands and buried his face in my balls. As I leaned back, he licked and gently sucked my smooth shaved sack while slightly stroking my cock. It felt amazing to be out in the sun, with the feeling of the breeze and his arms weighing my thighs down, the mixture of sensations throbbed me to a thick, full erection. I looked down to double check I wasn't dreaming, and he looked deep into my eyes and without hesitation took me all the way into his throat. I gasped.
With the suction he was applying to my dick, it wasn't long before my cum was flooding his throat. He sucked me dry and swallowed every drop. Right then the front desk came over the intercom, "Paul, your half hour is almost up."
After I gathered my composure I said, "thanks for the private invitation." I winked. We put on our robes and made our way to the lockers. We quietly showered and dressed as if nothing had happened, and on his way out he handed me his number. "Call me if you want to soak again."
He moved over to me and put his arms up on my thighs, took my cock in his hands and buried his face in my balls. As I leaned back, he licked and gently sucked my smooth shaved sack while slightly stroking my cock. It felt amazing to be out in the sun, with the feeling of the breeze and his arms weighing my thighs down, the mixture of sensations throbbed me to a thick, full erection. I looked down to double check I wasn't dreaming, and he looked deep into my eyes and without hesitation took me all the way into his throat. I gasped.
With the suction he was applying to my dick, it wasn't long before my cum was flooding his throat. He sucked me dry and swallowed every drop. Right then the front desk came over the intercom, "Paul, your half hour is almost up."
After I gathered my composure I said, "thanks for the private invitation." I winked. We put on our robes and made our way to the lockers. We quietly showered and dressed as if nothing had happened, and on his way out he handed me his number. "Call me if you want to soak again."
Friday, September 5, 2008
Homo Erotic Massage
When I was in high school, I used to raid my dad's Playboys and Penthouses. The Penthouse magazines were more dirty so of course I always leaned more toward them. One had a story about a married man who had gotten a professional massage from his wife as a gift for their anniversary. The masseuse was a man, and in the story the guy got an erection during the massage, and the masseuse jerked him off and made him come, then quietly finished up the massage.
That story was so exciting because at that time I was completely in the closet to myself, so I was surprised to be turned on by it. Since then I have always wanted to get a massage from some hot guy and when I get hard he strokes me off, just like in the story.
I have only ever gotten professional massages from women, for fear of my cock reacting to this fantasy. It's against professional ethics to massage private parts, and I've only ever paid for a massage from a licensed massage therapist. I've never been to a massage parlor or erotic massage type place, just offices and spas.
Anyway, I'd love to get an erotic massage from some beautiful guy someday, like in the story I read as a teenager, and get stroked by some hunky sexy naked guy. It would be even more exciting if he got hard too, because then I'd know that he was turned on by massaging me and it would get me even harder. It would be great to have a handjob last as long as a paid massage, say, half an hour?
I recently bought a bottle of Astroglide. It's really slippery and lasts a long long time. I've been jerking off with it every once in a while, trying not to overuse it. I've wanted to save it for when I get some beginner anal toys, it's great for anal, I've been told.
That story was so exciting because at that time I was completely in the closet to myself, so I was surprised to be turned on by it. Since then I have always wanted to get a massage from some hot guy and when I get hard he strokes me off, just like in the story.
I have only ever gotten professional massages from women, for fear of my cock reacting to this fantasy. It's against professional ethics to massage private parts, and I've only ever paid for a massage from a licensed massage therapist. I've never been to a massage parlor or erotic massage type place, just offices and spas.
Anyway, I'd love to get an erotic massage from some beautiful guy someday, like in the story I read as a teenager, and get stroked by some hunky sexy naked guy. It would be even more exciting if he got hard too, because then I'd know that he was turned on by massaging me and it would get me even harder. It would be great to have a handjob last as long as a paid massage, say, half an hour?
I recently bought a bottle of Astroglide. It's really slippery and lasts a long long time. I've been jerking off with it every once in a while, trying not to overuse it. I've wanted to save it for when I get some beginner anal toys, it's great for anal, I've been told.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Cumming On Stuff
This post is for all of you bi guys out there, apologies to my gay friends, here's other posts for your pleasure.
I love to cum on things. Just seeing all that hot juicy cum splash and splooge all over skin, magazines, panties, leather, or lace - it doesn't matter - it's such a turn on. Sometimes I jerk off onto porno mags, whether they be straight or gay. Watching my cum squirt out and land on the pictures takes me away to a fantasy world, where the person in the photo comes alive in my imagination, helping to visualize my jism peppering their skin.
I love a woman that's not afraid of cum, loves to get it all over her tits and will let me cum onto her back, ass, face or pussy, anywhere I want to see it land. Facials in particular have this wonderful domination/submissive element to them. A chick that can keep a smile through that is truly a cum loving whore, in all the best sense of the word.
And ah yes, to cum on a beautiful cunt. Any chick that ever let me cum right onto her pussy was on the pill, otherwise the fear of getting pregnant was always there, not to mention HIV/AIDS, so usually this was off limits. Getting to do that is a rare treat, especially in non-monogamous relationships. Common sense dictates that you wrap it and trap it, but it sure is fun to unleash all that cum right onto a pussy, if she lets you do it.
I also want to see my cum splattered all over some guy's bare ass. I love porn surfing for gay cumshots. It's just so hot to see that milky jizz all over another guy's abs, balls, ass... whatever, just let me see it pooling up while I'm stroking along, ready to shoot my load onto that creamy mess.
It's such a strong fantasy to see my own cum surge out onto some cute guy's shaved asshole. I'm new to this bisexual thing so I don't really get off on hairy asses or big, gaping, greased, fisted, totally blown out asses. I like a puckered, healthy looking pinkstar. Maybe it's just my relative inexperience with them, as I've rimmed only a few female lovers, but I have to be honest, I've never fucked an ass. Two chicks I have dated were into anal, but they both said I was too big to fit. I dunno, I'm only 6.5 inches, so whatever. Anyway, someday I'm going to get to watch my own cum ejaculating out onto some guy's pretty little ass and I'm going to love every minute of it.
I love to cum on things. Just seeing all that hot juicy cum splash and splooge all over skin, magazines, panties, leather, or lace - it doesn't matter - it's such a turn on. Sometimes I jerk off onto porno mags, whether they be straight or gay. Watching my cum squirt out and land on the pictures takes me away to a fantasy world, where the person in the photo comes alive in my imagination, helping to visualize my jism peppering their skin.
I love a woman that's not afraid of cum, loves to get it all over her tits and will let me cum onto her back, ass, face or pussy, anywhere I want to see it land. Facials in particular have this wonderful domination/submissive element to them. A chick that can keep a smile through that is truly a cum loving whore, in all the best sense of the word.
And ah yes, to cum on a beautiful cunt. Any chick that ever let me cum right onto her pussy was on the pill, otherwise the fear of getting pregnant was always there, not to mention HIV/AIDS, so usually this was off limits. Getting to do that is a rare treat, especially in non-monogamous relationships. Common sense dictates that you wrap it and trap it, but it sure is fun to unleash all that cum right onto a pussy, if she lets you do it.
I also want to see my cum splattered all over some guy's bare ass. I love porn surfing for gay cumshots. It's just so hot to see that milky jizz all over another guy's abs, balls, ass... whatever, just let me see it pooling up while I'm stroking along, ready to shoot my load onto that creamy mess.
It's such a strong fantasy to see my own cum surge out onto some cute guy's shaved asshole. I'm new to this bisexual thing so I don't really get off on hairy asses or big, gaping, greased, fisted, totally blown out asses. I like a puckered, healthy looking pinkstar. Maybe it's just my relative inexperience with them, as I've rimmed only a few female lovers, but I have to be honest, I've never fucked an ass. Two chicks I have dated were into anal, but they both said I was too big to fit. I dunno, I'm only 6.5 inches, so whatever. Anyway, someday I'm going to get to watch my own cum ejaculating out onto some guy's pretty little ass and I'm going to love every minute of it.
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