Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Fetish Fun: Muscular Guys

Through most of my life I was a skinny guy who continually teetered near the low-end of what was considered healthy for a boy/man of my age. I had sharp, angular features and I was pretty bony. It was the natural result of a high metabolism from my mother's side and a personal dislike of eating. While this would all change once I moved into a university dorm and got properly introduced to the university cafeteria, it still affected me during my developing years and has influenced my personality.

I also think it's part of the reason why I'm highly attracted to muscular guys.

Ironaddict4555 on YouTube combines a great-looking, smooth physique 
with a wicked sexy beard-sideburns combo.

There's something about a muscular guy that just gets me, that makes me swoon over him and all that I associate with his muscularity. In part, it's the curvature of his muscles, clearly defining each muscle and hinting to the strength each muscle commands on its own and together with the others.

Evander Marius shows off his strength through people lifting.

I want to feel his muscles, to feel the strength within them, to take part in his strength by paying respect to it. I want him to dominate me with his presence, his assertiveness, and his physical force. I want to trace the lines of his muscles with my fingers, recognizing the work he's put into them. I want to flex them so that I may kiss them, feel them against my face, and hold and squeeze them between my (weaker) hands.

Zitronenquark has an impressive size, great tone,
and the kind of rough face that I find it so easy to melt for.

I'd love to be the skinnier guy "worshiping" such a great, muscular body
and attending to a big stud.

It's also the confidence so many muscular guys seem to exude. They know that they're bigger, stronger, and more intimidating that most. Some use that to make a persona that plays to those expectations (such as with the guys above) or even exaggerate them. It adds personality and complements the bodies they've built. Others play against those expectations, contrasting their big, hard bodies with goofiness or sweetness.

DJCire has a nice beefy build and his videos are noteworthy for
the humor he shows in them, such as the one above,
and his numerous dancing videos.

I just love this clip and its nice blend of humor and cockiness (and muscle!).

Whether tough or funny, I do love a guy who has taken the time and effort to build his body.

How about you, dear reader? Do you share any enjoyment of guys with muscular physiques? If so, what do you enjoy?

If you have a muscular physique, how do you feel about the enjoyment other guys have of it? Do you feel any different for having that physique?


Some other recommended YouTube channels if you enjoy muscular guys:
ChaosServer - lean, muscular, with a perpetual five o'clock beard
InvulnerableDR - big, muscular with a deliberately cocky attitude
TylerMuscleGod and NinjaTylerMuscleGod - extraordinarily big, young bodybuilder


Saturday, January 25, 2014

Sexual Hygiene: Basic Douching

Douching is the process of cleaning out the anal cavity in preparation for anal sex, whether penile fucking og fist fucking. It usually consists of inserting water or another liquid into the anus, letting the water loosen and gather fecal matter, and then forcing it out again as you would when taking a dump.  The process is then repeated until the liquid being pushed out is clear/brackish rather than brown.

As a bottom (vers, primarily bottom), douching is an important part of my preparation for a sexual encounter. Unfortunately, realizing you're gay doesn't come with an instruction manual, so it has taken me years to learn how to properly douche. I guess that, in a lot of the encounters I've had prior to learning how to properly douche, I was lucky with my natural bodily cleansing (or with very understanding tops).

To do my part in remedying this, I've prepared a video on basic douching:

I hope that you, dear reader, find the video useful (or that you already know how to douche).

Thursday, January 23, 2014

The Lighter Side: Foreskin Follies

Despite being born in the US, I am not circumcised. Circumcision is not part of family heritage on either side. I'm pretty much happy that I wasn't circumcised as there was no need for it and I like having the foreskin available to me when I jerk off (it also puts me in the uncut niche when I hook up in the US).

However, there are some times where my foreskin becomes a bother.

One major incident of this was in the summer of 2013 at the end of my weekend with PhillyBreeder. On my last morning there, he drove me to the airport where we said our goodbyes and I got ready for the next part of my US trip. After checking in my luggage, I had plenty of time to spare and figured that I'd hit the can first.

I found a stall, sat down, and went about my business...that is, until I discovered a problem.

If you have foreskin, you're probably aware that foreskin scrunches up when your dick is soft. If you piss while it's still scrunched up, the foreskin may divert the piss so that it shoots in a direction other than the one you're pointing your dick toward. That's just what happened in this case. My foreskin was scrunched and my piss missed its mark...by a lot.

The whole time I had been sitting and pissing and shitting, unbeknownst to me, I was shooting a parabola of piss out of the toilet bowl and straight into my boxers and shorts.

Once I discovered it, it was too late. Both my boxers and my shorts were soaked with piss.

On the upside, I had kept hydrated during my stay in Philadelphia so my piss was of the lighter colored, near odorless kind. On the downside, it was still piss, it was going to get worse with the smell, and I was at the start of a day of traveling from Philly to Albuquerque (with two stops in-between).

I tried drying up as much as I could, but the toilet paper could only soak so much and I was still left with piss-moistened legwear. Thus began the Hunt for Non-Piss-Soaked Legwear at Philadelphia International Airport.

I don't know if you, dear reader, have tried finding reasonably priced legwear at PHL to make up for your piss-soaked clothes before you have to board your flight, but it's an adventure of its own.

In the end, I was able to find a store that sold reasonably priced shorts (the first store I found was a clothes boutique, with prices to match). After securing the shorts, I cleaned as much the piss from my legs as I could, put on the new pair, and otherwise traveled commando across the continental US.

The lesson: if you have scrunchy foreskin, always pack extra legwear and keep it with you when traveling.

So, dear reader, have you had any accidents because of your foreskin?

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Blog Response: The Breeder's "Open Forum Friday: Selling It"

Back on Friday, the 25th of January, The Breeder published a post on the issue of exchanging sex for money or goods, on how some people react strongly against it and condemn it, and on his experience with it as someone who offers sexual experiences (largely as a dominator) in exchange for money. He has detailed this experiences and encounters in other posts and in this one he writes to counter the perception some people express about "johns" (guys who pay for sexual services). He points out how condemners of the practice accuse both the suppliers and the consumers of sex services of being pathetic, desperate, and fools, and offers his take on the buyers of sex based on his experiences as a sex provider.

Toward the end, he asks for input from his readers on the matter, their experiences and their thoughts.

I have not intentionally paid for sex or taken payment for sex. While I have looked at escort personals for pictures and food for fantasy, I haven't given much thought to intentionally paying in exchange for sex services. The primary reason for this is the illegality, I think; I'd be too worried about the encounter being a set-up either by law enforcement or someone intend of using the illegality of it against me later on.

However, if I look beyond the simple exchange of money or direct exchange of goods, then it gets fuzzier.

As I am usually the younger one (and the bottom) when I meet up with a guy for a hook-up (or more), the guys I'm with tend to buy me lunch or dinner (or even a movie ticket) as part of our meeting up. Is this an exchange of goods (food, entertainment) for services (my bottoming)? Should I consider this as a prostitution of myself? Typically, people do not consider this prostitution though the acts are particularly different.

I once, over a period of one to two weeks, kept paying for a guy I met with on a near-daily basis. In exchange, I had a form of boyfriend experience with him (where I covered all the tabs). The money I gave him wasn't explicitly in exchange for anything. Yet, I was in effect (as I am cynical enough to be sure he hung out with me because of my money) paying him for his company.

It matters little to me whether someone else exchanges money for sex, as long as the sex is consensual. If others are willing to put up cash for sexual services (or "keeping" a guy) that's their business and if others want to be compensated with money in exchange for their sexual services then that's their business as well. Their exchange does little to affect me or the rest of society as long as the exchange is mutually consented and neither party is being exploited in the exchange.

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Saturday pictures and video - 18th of January, 2014

Some pictures and video I shot with my Matthew Rush Supercock.

My hole after trying to take in the Supercock.


I had to lube up the Supercock as it's too big to fit into my lube jar. 


My attempt at getting the Supercock in. I had to throw in the towel as I reached my limit at the time.

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Encounter: Or the Lack Thereof - Part 3

The 26th of October started off as good a Tuesday as any other. I was attending Florida International University and lived in the dorms (a single efficiency with a door that went straight out to the yard). That particular day, I had no classes and instead spent the day with my brother, my mother who was visiting, and a family friend. My brother and I voted early and we all had lunch together.

That evening, I had arranged for a meeting with a muscular Cuban guy I'd been in touch with on Adam4Adam. We hadn't met yet and had worked out this evening as a time that fit for both of us.

I'm having a hard time writing about this. Unlike the other men I had previously met with, this guy did not respect my boundaries. Instead, he raped me.

The trauma of the rape is such that I cannot look back to that night without suffering a cold sweat, trembles, and an immense fear mixed with an intense, unwanted arousal. His dismissal of my right to withhold consent, his claiming of me against my wishes, and his penetration of my ass (which felt like a fist covered in thumbtacks) deranged me thoroughly. I was in a mental and emotional shock for a good while afterward, well aware that attempting to prosecute it would most likely backfire (I had, after all, invited him to my place through a site dedicated to sex and hook-ups). Where I had wanted to explore my sexuality, he was only interested in fucking and dominating me.

It should little surprise you, dear reader, that this experience severely dampened my desire to meet with new guys. While I did meet with a couple of guys (for example the Texan stud I mentioned in the previous entry), I was still shell-shocked and quite intent on protecting my then-fragile mind. Also, though I had now experienced giving oral and receiving anal from my rapist and thus broken that boundary, I had little desire to repeat it (though I did give oral to the Texan when I met up with him).

A self-portrait I took after taking my post-rape
shower. I knew the day and its events would
be significant and ought to be remembered.

I kept quiet about the rape for I knew that I had become extremely fragile (as well as deranged) and that the opinions and reactions of others, in that state, could very well break me. Unfortunately, my reservation and defensive stance would prove itself warranted in some cases where I later informed others of my rape. The trauma also led me to philosophically recognize and obsess about the fact that all is ultimately for naught and that all effort, no matter how good or well-intentioned, can be torn asunder by the acts of another man. This in turn derailed my efforts as a graduate student as I struggled to see any long-term point in writing.

It has taken me years to work through this trauma, primarily on my own (I had the assistance of a sexologist for a short time, though that was primarily with regard to my fear of STDs at the time) and it still affects me, as experienced and seen in writing even this text. The mihi nihil refert ("to me, nothing matters") philosophy remains a significant basis for much of my outlook on the world and life.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Fetish Fun: Self-Breeding

Thus far, I have been bred by two guys: the first guy who bred me, a Pakistani-Indian hook-up I met with in Miami, and PhillyBreeder, who I spent the weekend with back in the summer of 2013. I haven't made a habit of being bred or barebacking for that matter, as the increased risk for sexually transmitted diseases warns me off doing so. While it is nice to provide a breeding experience for a top, the possible consequences make it more of an exceptional treat rather than a routine for me.

However, after having been bred, I've found that there is a form of breeding I would really like to try: being bred with my own cum.

I enjoy being fucked after I've cum (as long as my ass hasn't gotten too sore). What I want to try is for a top to use my cum as the lube he fucks into my ass, to breed me with my own cum. What I think is hot about it is the combination of the breeding (cum makes an excellent lube) and the transgression of having one's own bodily fluids inserted into oneself by another.

I haven't found a top yet that has been up for this. I have asked a few, but the only one of them that I've hooked up with said that he wasn't interested in this. I'll just have to keep at it, asking tops as I come across them. Eventually I'll find some guy up for it or who may be as turned on by it as I am.

How about you, dear reader? Have you had your cum fucked into you? Have you fucked another guy's cum into him?

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Saturday pictures and video - 11th of January, 2014

Some pictures and a video I shot with my eight-inch replicock, Lieutenant Wood.

Thursday, January 9, 2014

Encounter: Or the Lack Thereof - Part 2

As I mentioned in the first part, once I came to acknowledge that I am gay I began a slow and gradual exploration of my being gay. The evening walks I had on the Key Biscayne beach introduced me to several guys and let me experience mutually attracted physical contact. We just talked and touched, as I was still too hesitant to get into kissing (it would be years until I really got into kissing).

One memorable exception was a guy I met through Adam4Adam, a Texan, toned stud with short hair. Instead of the usual evening walk, we met for a bike trip into the abandoned Key Biscayne Zoo (it was a zoo prior to Hurricane Andrew in 1992, after which it became a regular park). I showed him around in the park as we biked, ending up in a secluded part where we sat down and cuddled. I sat in his lap and he showed me how to kiss, using a bit of tongue. He also led my hand so that I could feel up his eight-incher through his shorts. We didn't go further than cuddling, kissing, and touching, but would meet again later on (and keep on-and-off in-touch after he moved from Miami).

Another exception was a guy I met through Manhunt, a Cuban man, a bit short than me. The first time we met was on one of the night-time beach walks. We hit it off well, and at a later date we met up at his place. We continued the cuddling and added some frottage to the mix. Then, one evening I visited him and I agreed to let him perform oral on me.

We were in his bed, which had a big memory foam mattress. We cuddled in the nude and, while I don't remember the details leading up to it, he began blowing me, tenderly and hungrily lapping at my dick with tongue and mouth, leading to my first ever conscious orgasm. That he swallowed my load probably help spur on my exclamations of "Oh God, oh God, oh God!"

Over the three years 2001-2004, I would occasionally feel the need to meet with another guy, though I always kept it at cuddling, frottage, and possibly being blown. I was in most ways exceedingly fortunate that the guys I met with respected my (in retrospect, overly strict) boundaries, letting me explore being gay at my own pace. I was on my conservative little way way to becoming the gay man I felt like being.

That is, until the 26th of October, 2004.

To be continued...

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Blog Response: The Breeder's "Open Forum Friday: I Hate 69"

Back on the 13th of July, 2013, Rob aka. Mr. Steed/The Breeder published a post on his dislike of 69, the sexual position where two partners perform oral sex on each other. He offered the reasons for his dislike, primarily that it leads to an sensation overload where it goes from being arousing to being an unbearable chore (though this overload only occurs when it's just him and another guy, and not when the guy he's sucking and the guy that's sucking him are two different guys). At the end of the post, he asks for the reader's opinion on the 69 position.

My take:
I agree with Rob. 69 is an over-hyped sexual position. The 69 ideal is great, one where partners simultaneously pleasure each other's dicks with lips, tongues, and suction. It's a mutual sex act. Unfortunately, it's demanding sex act where you have to keep your mind on performing oral on your partner, receiving oral from your partner (and staying hard so that he has something to suck on), and on positioning yourself so that you both have access without a distracting amount of strain.

My experience with 69 is such that I prefer just blowing dick or being blown. The tripartite focus of 69 kicks my mind of that sexual zone and into confusion and frustration. I'll participate in it if my sex partner signals that he wants to go for it, but when that happens I no longer care whether he is able to suck my dick nor do I put any focus on maintaining my erection; I simply concentrate on my performance on his dick.

If my sex partner wants to play with my nether region while I blow him, I'd much prefer for him to finger me. If he fingers me while I'm blowing him, it means we're both working toward the same goal: him fucking me anally. That alone gets me hard and helps me concentrate on my performance (and when I watch porn, I primarily enjoy those oral scenes where I know that the bottom is preparing the dick that will soon plow into his ass). In some ways, I'm inclined toward the idea of anal sex being end goal of my sexual encounters (ideally followed by cuddling). 69, in its mutual pleasuring of top and bottom, represents an ideal I just don't take on when I go into the bedroom.

Saturday, January 4, 2014

Saturday pictures and video - 4th of January, 2014

Some pictures and a video I shot with my six-inch replicock, Captain Cock.

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Encounter: Or the Lack Thereof - Part 1

I have, for most of my life, had very little sex.

I first learned to masturbate when I was 20 years old and I first started meeting guys when I was 19 years old. Up until that point, I was extremely sexually frustrated. I have a high sex drive (my first wet dream that I remember came when I was 9 years old), but due in part to my own self-repression, I had no way of releasing my build-up. I just recognized my arousal as a highly pleasant experience that would leave me bothered. I deliberately sought out arousal, looking up hot pictures on the Net (once it was available) and asking my friends to belch for me. At the same time, I was disgusted by dicks and asses as I considered them remarkably unclean and unsanitary. This disgust led to one of my most frustrating experiences of cognitive dissonance, when I happened upon a picture of a remarkably hot guy with a huge dick, which both disgusted me and aroused me to no end.

One night stands out in my memory as I was aroused to the point of temporary insanity, where I could not sleep because I was too aroused. I went online and looked up hot guys and prostitute ads and became temporarily obsessed with one particular gigolo, a muscular Latin man with blue eyes, and began an excessive fantasizing of how I dedicate myself to him and all his whims. The only thing preventing me from this was my shyness and lack of means to get to him (or pay him).

Me in May of 1999. 16 years old and 
quite self-repressed.

During this dissonance, I had some limited exploration of my sexuality. I joined Yahoo! Groups dedicated to muscular men, bodybuilding, dominance, carrying and lifting, and belching. I exposed myself to and consumed the pictures, videos, and text I found there...yet had no way of releasing the arousal I was deliberately building up.

This dissonance lasted until the end of my high school years, where my closest friend asked me straight-out whether I was gay. I took my time in considering and deliberating my answer as I was gay, yet believed all that is gay to be wrong (as established in so much of popular culture). Once I decided (accepted) that I was gay, it opened a world for me, one I took my sweet time in exploring.

Initially, I began by joining personals sites such as Yahoo! Personals to reach out to guys. When that didn't net much other than e-mailing buddies, I went to ManHunt, asked whether it was okay to use their site for looking for friends rather than just hook-ups (youth mixed with navieté) and joined after I received a yes from the admin. I went slowly forward, simply seeking guys who would meet with me to meet and then see where things went. The most common thing we did was take a nightime walk on the beach of Key Biscayne where we would talk and I could lightly explore what it is to be gay.

To be continued...