Monday, August 29, 2011

CHALLENGER: Elders' Beauty ...From Elders' Strength

My goal with this presumably final part of my "CHALLENGER" poetry series is to address the issue of ageism, while at the same time, tie in all parts of the series together.

You can try to deny it all you want, but the reality is that when gay media, especially gay male media, wants to give us a hero, they mostly shove either fashion labels or heterosexual females like Madonna, Kylie Minogue, and Lady Gaga down our throats as to being what and whom we gays should worship. However, when they finally decide to present us with some kind of gay male as a hero, gay media lately presents us with a younger, white male with model good looks.

Such as Dustin Lance Black, the screenwriter for the movie "Milk". While it is a sign of progress to win an Oscar award for a screenplay about a figure in the Gay Rights Movement, what I find troubling is how because of what I see of gay media now, Dustin Lance Black was treated as the more historic figure. Meanwhile, I'm sure many young gay males still, even after seeing the movie, don't know of the accomplishments of the man the film "Milk" is about, Harvey Milk.

Dustin Lance Black's notoriety overshadowing that of Harvey Milk's is not his fault, but of the modern gay media. A modern gay media that has overlooked females, young gays of color (male and female), and most importantly, our gay forefathers and  lesbian mothers who have said, done, or accomplished something of great significance for the LGBT community's progression long before Dustin Lance Black and other young white males gay media tries to label as "our best".

And speaking of our gay forefathers, it is not because of Dustin Lance Black that we can now get married in some U.S. states. It's not because of Ronnie Kroell that gays can throw some caution to the wind and publicly hold hands and kiss like I did while living in the Bronx, and with my playmate from my last blog post on a bright sunny day on a sidewalk in the Bushwick section of Brooklyn with ghetto trash neighbors with nothing but time on their hands looking on.

These are normal acts that members of the LGBT community can do publicly today because of Harvey Milk, Larry Kramer, the heroes of the Stonewall Riots who would no longer tolerate the police harassing them, and countless others. But sadly, because of modern gay media, many don't know much about the heroes of the Stonewall Riots and those countless others (many who are female and people of color). We only know the names Harvey Milk and Larry Kramer, and not many more.

How often do White (or to avoid charges of racism, light-complexioned non-White) males grace the cover of magazines like The Advocate, Instinct, or Out? In a country as color-diversified as America, ALL TOO OFTEN!

And how often do straight women instead of actual lesbians grace their covers? Again, ALL TOO OFTEN!

Instead, these underrated, if not completely overlooked heroes of the LGBT community are clumped into special issues' lists that makes people of color and females feel as if we are not seem as the important figures in the LGBT community that we are. Therefore, why bother with their magazine. If these magazine ever wonder why their sales suffer. This may very well be a BIG contribution as to why. 

The bottom line of the CHALLENGER series is to point out how gay media heads need to focus more on presenting people who have and continue to tell the truth of what we need to hear to better our community. This is done by being smart enough to be blind to age, color, and gender. That as opposed to what most media heads sadly show themselves to do now. Which is gay male media heads being ass-wipes thinking more with their dicks and assholes, and lesbian media heads being twits thinking more with their twats. And until this changes, and the community stops following, their bad leads we will as a whole continue to be our own worst enemy.

So on that note, I finally close the CHALLENGER series, ...or have I?

Friday, August 26, 2011

Long Overdue Screw

Some weeks ago, I went to the Friday night sex party that I used to volunteer for. I'm no longer associate myself with that party for reasons that are another story that I may or may not tell. But on to telling of one of the happier moments at that party.

This group thing was going on in a corner. I became part of it. I've mentioned before that I have an odd ability to see some degree well in the dark, and in the midst of that action, I saw a new face. He was gorgeous with a beautiful body, but he wasn't within my reach just yet. Once he was near me, someone else was feeling him up. He might have even been fucking him. By this time, we were closer. We saw each other and we locked in on each other. We started kissing. Then it became a situation that no matter what that other guy was doing to him already, he wanted more from me. So he left the other guy, and came to me. And instead of just kissing, we began hugging as well. Of course, not without the usual hands interrupting, on him mostly.

I couldn't tell if those hands were interrupting out of desperation to be accepted by this gorgeous man, or as much as I don't want to think it in 2011 (and even more so at that moment), were grabbing him because of them being White like he was, they felt "entitled" to have him more than I. Every Black man reading this that has been to a sex party with patrons of various ethnicities knows this to be a true occurrence at sex parties.

Anyway, I wasn't making it a contest, but he chose me. And we went over to the large chair, and I laid down on it. I may have been jumping the gun to think that he was a top, but as much as I liked the feel of groping his ass with my hands, at that moment I wanted my asshole and ass tunnel to grope his dick more.

He fucked me with everyone watching. The sex was mind-blowing. I'm not a drug-user, but that connection to one another's energy plus his strokes inside me made the sex feel as if I was high as a kite. Normally when I bottom, my dick isn't that hard if at all, but this time, it was harder than usual. And while groping his ass while he fucked me, a desire to flip the script was growing with my cock. I started fucking his ass, and laid him down on his stomach. His ass felt amazing. A warm fleshy cylinder wrapped around my dick in between 2 cushiony soft ass cheeks. Even though it felt amazing, I wanted more dick. He obliged and fucked me some more. This time with me on my stomach.

We were going at it so long we needed a break. We discussed getting each other's info so we could hook up outside of the party. Me and past playmates have made that agreement before, and missed out, but this time, even though I left him to go back to do my volunteering duties for a bit, I was determined to make sure we both would make good on that agreement.

There was one patron that night who at first seemed hot, but later turned out to be an annoyance. Because he was a definite candidate for my category, "Why You're Single" by trying to direct all the group action, instead of just letting it happen. Later on he wound up playing my with new playmate. And he obviously enjoyed him as I did. Because as the party closed, I saw him give my new playmate his info. I was hoping my playmate saw through the guy's control freakish and/or desperate behavior and never hooked up with him.

Well, a few weeks passed, and I wasn't able to get together with my new playmate. But a friend with benefits sent me a text message inviting me to be part of some group sex action on a Saturday night. Out of my craving for a reunion with my new playmate, and considering how it is a small world, my wishful thinking made me say to myself, "Wouldn't it be great if my new playmate from that sex party was there?"

As it turns out, of the 5 of us total, he wasn't there. Instead, Fate saw fit to play a cruel joke on me by letting the wannabe-porn director bossy bottom be there. By being introduced in the light of my FWB's living room, I thought it was him, but wasn't sure. But once the sex started, so did his "bossy bottom" routine again and the voice change that comes with it.  That's how I knew for sure. Maybe it wasn't so much a cruel joke by Fate after all. Because this run-in made me more desperate than ever to get a reunion with that playmate.

I'm often so busy, that it can become hard to maintain an if not totally clean, an at least presentable apartment. So that's what I spent the next week completing. Once done, I sent him a text letting him know that I was ready for him.

We made plans for us to meet that coming Friday afternoon. Then come that Friday, as we're sending texts to confirm, he sends a text telling me that he must be at a friend's party early that evening, which would give us a 1 hour 45 minutes or 2 hours at the most. Since I didn't want a rush-fuck, as much as I didn't want to, I offered to postpone. But he replied thinking the same as me ---- "Nooooo let's meet.... It's been too long".

So we met. When he got off the train, he called me. I told him how to get to my place from there, and I'd meet him halfway. Once I stepped outside of my building, I looked towards the corner, and saw him. Now, I have a next door neighbor who is every negative stereotype of an older Black woman living in a ghetto apartment complex, which is sad because I live in a brownstone. She spends her days doing nothing with her life but sitting on the steps of the building being loud and nosey. Well this day, she decided to get real leisure by having a chair and sitting out on the street and not on the stoop. So when I walk down the street to meet him, if she has good enough eyesight, she got a good look at him giving me a "hello" kiss on the mouth. Once realizing he wasn't in his own territory, he asked me if it we as gays were allowed to do public displays like that around my neighborhood. I told him that I've now gotten to the point with my sexuality as I am about the rest of my life with my motto being...."What you see is what you get. And I don't give a fuck."

As soon as we got into my studio apartment, he was greeted by the screen between the refrigerator and my bed to separating my kitchen from the bedroom. Once over by my bed, I reached across the side of it to my desk to go on my laptop for my iTunes playlist of The LXTreme Sex Mix. I never got a chance to be a proper host, and offer him something to drink before he put his stuff down and started stripping. Once his shirt was off, the only liquids I concerned with were from within him---- his sweat and then his cum.

Even without a fan or air-conditioning, it was a nice enough day that my apartment was a decent temperature. That is until we got together. We started feeling each other up. He felt and was impressed with the bulge in my jeans just from seeing him shirtless. Then he took off his jeans, and I was impressed by the pup tent in his teal underwear a shade lighter than his teal shirt. I took off my jeans, then we took off our underwear simultaneously. So now we were back to the way we met with no clothes blocking the good flow of energy that made us want each other. We got on my bed and kissed smiling at each other in between kisses.

I realized that the light in my room was still on. And it seems unlike most, I like it that way during sex. Because besides the fact that I love seeing my sex partners in all their erotic glory, we met at the dimly lit party that inspired my blog post, "Blackout Room = Troll Central Station". So that made me crave to see him in his erotic glory even more so.

While we loved kissing each other, we knew what we really wanted was to be inside each other. But before even getting there, I laid on my back and he started playing with my dick, remembering how I'm uncut and how much he liked it. His dick was up and ready to probe my ass, and while I may have been so drunk with lust that I can't recall, even though I'm not a fan of oral sex, after seeing his dick, I did want to taste it. But never got a chance to remind him of my oral prowess because in his enthusiasm over my uncut dick, his going down on me and reminding me of his prowess was more memorable for me.

He then turned me on my stomach. He looked down at my ass, and I could feel a smile was on his face as he said while massaging it, "Just as I remember it."

What was bringing a smile to my face before this moment was knowing that my ass tunnel was going to be filled wall-to-wall with his cock driving through it. So when he turned me on my stomach, laid down on top of me and started grinding his cock against my ass, my hole was twitching to open up just enough to let him in. When he got off my back enough for me to know that he was going in, I reached for my tube of WET Gellee. I put some on my ass and on his dick, and let him stick his cock in me. As soon as he got in, we both gave out a sigh of, "Ooooo yeah!"

Relief that this private fuck was finally happening.

His dick hit all the right places inside me to make me moan blissfully. Then he picked up speed in his thrusts. And because of those hard thrust, our moans weren't the only causes of noise. My bed was squeaking too. Since I live in a small studio, those moans and squeaks of the bed might have been drowned out by the music I had playing. And if it didn't, I could care less. So what? We're all adults in this building. At the moment, I just happened to have a hot guy fucking my brains out.

I then turned around with him on his knees. I straddled him, and put his cock back inside me and started riding him. Looking into each other's eyes smiling at how good it felt. The entire time I was riding him, I was running my hands all over his body that was now sweaty, which fueled that kink of mine. We stopped for a moment so he could straighten out his legs underneath him. and then I rode him some more. He then laid back as I continued riding him in a cowboy position. I considered turning around so I could see his fit legs and he could see my ass go up and down as it engulfed his big dick that showed no signs of shrinking anytime soon, but I thought to myself, "Hopefully, if there's a next time, then that will be another position we can try."

I started to lean back and he got up with me. I laid on my back to get in my favorite position - missionary. The beauty of the lights being on still showed itself by me being able to see his dick slide in and out, and I would look between his arm and side of his torso to see a profile view of that nice hill of an ass go up and down. And I when I would just lay back and take his dick, my hands were massaging that soft ass.

He then stopped, laid next to me, and asked if I wanted to fuck him. And I most certainly did. I got the lube again, but this time for my dick and his ass. I started fucking him doggy-style, and realized something I didn't at the sex party. He has such a soft ass, that when you fuck it from behind, bounces. I didn't realize that before because when I fucked him at the party, he was on his stomach, and not on all-fours like he was at that moment. I didn't know where to put my hands because every part of him is beautiful from head to toe. I think at one point while fucking him, I actually massaged his calves. I was getting so overwhelmed by it all that for a moment, I thought I was going to come. But I didn't. I pulled out, and let him fuck me some more.

By this point, there was almost nowhere to go on my bed that wasn't a big wet spot from our sweat. I laid on my stomach, grinding his dick, arching my back, then I could feel his dick swelling to shoot his load. I loved the feeling of his cock pulsing to squeeze out his cum. And all those text messages I sent to him over those weeks to let him know I still wanted him had finally paid off. For it led to me also feeling his body against my ass and hearing his breathing, as both shuttered from the release of built-up sexual tension.

We laid on my now drenched sheets exhausted. We talked for a bit, and he mentioned being concerned about me not shooting a load. I told him how I didn't need to. You see, I'm sexually satisfied when my top is sexually satisfied. So I don't need to come. In fact, my doing a cumshot in movies was only because directors wanted it. My movie cumshots had nothing to do with being driven to it by that movie's top. But if I was doing a movie with this guy, trust me, that had a great potential to change. Because what we had just done was nowhere near the "visualized prostitution" (as I call it) porn is today. It was so good, I'm sure people seeing just a little bit wouldn't dare try for a bootleg copy.

As with any guest to my place, I walked him to the train station. Afterwards, I went to do some grocery shopping. Whenever I stood still, I started doing my Kegels to get my tightness back that his deep, hard pounding might have undone. While doing my Kegels, I realized even more so how that fuck session was a definite workout. Because just like with a workout, especially when you work your legs, once I stood still, sure my asshole was getting tight again, but I felt like my legs could give way if I didn't consciously focus on standing up. When I initially felt that, I wondered to myself, "Why are my legs hurting? What did I do while fucking to make them feel like Jell-OOOOH!"

That's when I remembered.

Between stretching my legs apart, stretching to rest them on his shoulders, and pulling them in close during missionary, being on all-fours during doggy-style, intertwining mine with his while spooning, squatting when I was riding his dick, and balancing myself while topping him, I put my legs through the paces for a good 45 minutes non-stop. More so than usual because this was an extremely passionate fuck. One born of out that saying "absence makes the heart grow fonder". Only this time, it was "absence made our dicks and asses grow fonder". After all, it had been over a month, almost 2 months since we met at that party, fucked like savages there and wanting to hook up away from the party crowd. And now that it finally happened, it should be no surprise that we fucked so hard that we wet up my bed. Everywhere we positioned ourselves while fucking looked as if glasses of water was thrown in that spot on my bed.

So my jelly legs, sweat-drenched bed, and hope for another helping are all results of what happens when you endure the pleasures of a long overdue screw.

PHENOMENAL Sex Antennas?

I seem to have PHENOMENAL sex when me and a guy EQUALLY choose each other. Yet, the sex is lackluster if he chose me more than I chose him. Does this mean I know a good sex partner for myself, or am I being unbending to the possibility I may be wrong?
Answer here

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Paying (Ends---My "Friend")

Recently, I gave another guy a chance to become involved with me. Well, he got past a month. A week past to be exact. But there were too many issues that my perceptive eye knew would be a problem, yet not only did I gave it a go anyway. I also tried to deny the existence of these issues.

Such as his being so unable to let go of his long gone ex that even after taking me for a picnic in Central Park, he would not consider us dating. Now, while I'm 15 years older than him, his ex is 20 years older. I was well aware that our age difference was pushing it in me being a daddy-figure, but an ex 20 years older is a definite. This became more evident when you take into account that we met as volunteers at a sex party where he would initiate conversations with MOSTLY the older patrons. This plus him not having the best relationship with his father will show any mental health professional worthy of their degree exactly what it showed me...He has sexualized the love he felt void of from his father.

This is just one of the flaws I tried overlooking, and I felt early on that it along with the others that I saw early on would come back to haunt me. And so they have. In fact, my recent blog posts "Socializers & Escape...Um, Artists", "Write That Down #37", and "Blog Rep For Truth...TESTED" are all based on his insensitivity and shenanigans. And please don't try giving him the excuse saying "Well, he's young." Because getting by on that excuse is why so many young Americans grow up to be old Americans not worth a damn.

Now, you are probably asking yourself, if I saw this early on, why would I bother with him for even that long? It's because I see the potential in these people, and how they're so weak in one way or another that they've allowed life to beat them down. In short, they are my former self before my coming to terms with my orientation. Actually, they're even more beat down than I was. So since opposites attract, I guess I'm drawn to filling the void that I know of to some degree all too well.

So to be honest, all signs were there that it was going to fail early on, but I gave it a go anyway. Why would I do this? It's because I was testing myself to see if guys not getting beyond a month with me was really their fault, or was it me being too quick to judgement therefore not accepting their flaws - flaws being a trait that we all have as humans. Now, since I put myself in the line of fire, you may be wondering what right do I have to be angry? I am angry because I'm so often right in my initial assessment in thinking the worst of people (hence why my circle of friends is so small), that I on occasion put myself in the line of fire hoping that for once - FOR ONCE...someone would prove me wrong. Because when it comes to perceiving negativity, I am sick and tired of always being right. Sadly, this was another such case. I just took a little longer than usual to admit it.

Now, some of you may feel that it's cruel of me to post his picture. Well, first of all, his acts of insensitivity were cruel, uncalled for, and I by no means deserved them. And if I ever exhibited the same bad traits to someone, I want someone to put me on blast as a wake-up call for me to get my shit together. But while I know I'm not perfect, the truth is no one has because no one can. Why? It's because just as in my collage "Evil LeNair, Good LeNair", I gave the good. I gave of myself to where they experienced kindness that was the closet thing to heaven on Earth for them.
But now,...the fact that it was never grasped onto for dear life, unappreciated, therefore returned unlike I deserved it to be is why now, they get "the Evil in LeNair". So my dark side just makes me use my artistic talents to vent saying cruel but honest things where I don't care if  he laughs or cries, lives or dies in response to them. My normal human compassion...for him, is now dead.

At this point, there are some desperadoes (more old than young) who I'm sure are near to the point of drowning in their own saliva looking to save this "poor" soul. My advice to you is...Go ahead. Show your desperation after all that you've been told, and all that will be confirmed.

With all that said, the poem that came out of this is one I'm sure many of you could relate to on some level. For it tells how you get involved with someone hoping for the best, but as time goes on, you feel like you're paying for the crimes of the person's ex, and how a point comes where your self-respect makes it a must to say, "ENOUGH!!!!"

Of my many artistic talents, I like to draw, but I haven't done it for quite awhile. My time modeling for Leslie/Lohman has resurrected my desire to draw, and I decided to make this the project where I put my new work on display. So along with the poetry, all of the drawings in the video were mine. It's not my best talent, but if you're going to critique it, do take note that you should base critiquing of my drawing prowess on whether or not these drawings helped to tell the poem's story. Please do not base your critique on 1 particular drawing style. For it will lessen the validity of your critique. Thank you.

Now, moving on to make happier times hopefully meeting REAL men.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Peeping Tom's September Object

You might recall this paragraph from "Post-Poetry Salon, Then Getting Naked": shy self actually got up the nerve to make some new contacts on my own with a couple of LGBT publishing companies and magazines at the Rainbow Book Fair....I don't want to give away any names here as to who I spoke to, so I don't jinx my chances of something coming to fruition.

One of those magazines that my shy self made contact with was Next Door Magazine.

I was walking around the Rainbow Book Fair as I waited for my turn to present my poem in the Poetry Salon. I've seen Next Door Magazine before and always thought about modeling for it. When I first went to their table, I looked, but didn't say a word. I honestly don't know how many times I came to the table, but I'm sure the guy who was manning the table probably thought I was a stalker after seeing me so many times. But then I told myself, "If you don't speak up, nothing will happen."

I'm sure much of my apprehension is left over from my dealing with the bullshit excuses of porn studios like (rightfully defunct) Black Scorpion Video, Lucas Entertainment, Raging Stallion, Channel 1 Releasing and a few others where they see my picture, and/or meet me in person, make a big display about wanting me, then never hearing a word after. I have now reached a point where I am self-assured enough of my beauty and my talents beyond fucking to not care to anticipate a company’s voice on the phone or see their email address in my inbox.

So after all this, it shouldn't be a surprise that it was with a raised inner-eyebrow that I made my move.

I went up to their table, and asked the guy manning the table how they got their models. He told me that they sometimes put out casting calls, and then he asked me if I was interested. With the door now open, I told him, "Yes".

It turns out he was Stephen Fogg, the Creative Director for the magazine. He gave me his card, and told me to email him some photos. After sending my photos, I got a response telling me that he felt it would "be a great fit". After my previously mentioned dealings with most porn studios, my initial thought was, "I've heard that line before. So I won't hold my breath. I'll let time tell the tale."

And time did tell the tale. In a good way. I got emails from Next Door Magazine keeping me posted on the planned issue, planned time for a shoot, and then a date for me to confirm. With me responding to each one promptly.

One thing I was told for the shoot was to not do too much man-scaping. Because even though some porn stars have appeared in the magazine, with the magazine's slogan being "An Uncommon Magazine Celebrating The Common Man", Next Door Magazine isn't looking for their models to be pretty by unnatural means like shaving or photoshop. I got the email a bit late because I did already trim my pubic hair, because the Sunday before the shoot was Will Clark's Bad Boys On The Hudson Sea Tea, and I couldn't have my pubes peeking out from underneath my underwear. Yes, my pubic hair is that long if it's not trimmed, and it hides about an inch of my erect cock. I will admit that since the shoot, I've become less inclined to shave my chest hair.

Next Door Magazine also puts no pressure on their models to have an erection. Evidently, they go by the logic that I presented in a line from my presentation for "Sex Worker Literati" in December 2009 entitled "Size Queen: The On/Off Switch". The line reads:
" only question about a guy I consider plain and simple…..GOT DICK? ..."

This lack of pressure for a hard-on put me on the verge of growing a hard-on just because I was so relaxed. That's so unlike the stupidity I've experience on porn movie sets where the director's pressure for a hard-on can cause a sex scene to become a bad sense of the word.

One such occasion was during one of my scenes for porn director Tyson Cane, I was bottoming and my dick wasn't hard. Tyson Cane told me to cover my dick while I'm getting fucked yelling, "Nobody likes a limp dick!"

He would have been right...if I was a TOP in the scene. But he's such a size queen that the reality never dawned on him that when you're a bottom, people really don't care. And in all reality, what bottom covers their dick during sex. Jerk-off: yes, but cover: NO. Porn fans do notice these dumb moves, and it's the distancing himself from reality in such a way as to why he has failed, and other porn studios of various genres are slowly, surely, but secretly following suit in failure.

I think it's safe to say that I enjoyed this shoot. Working with Stephen Fogg and the photographer Britt Carpenter was an extremely pleasing departure from the many things I experienced in the video end of adult entertainment.  It's because all of the undisclosed groupings, rejections, cock-injections, pill-popping, and photoshopping  - things that have turned porn movies into parodies even when they're not trying to be parodies, were all gone from this shoot. And just think, after enduring all that in the gay porn video industry, I almost allowed myself to be discouraged and not give getting this shoot a try.

So here we are with the end result being you as my Peeping Tom. And it being my pleasure to be peeped by you. So make sure you get a copy of the September issue of Next Door Magazine, because from what I've seen, there's a little something for everyone in this issue. Enjoy.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

The Asian Experience, Part 2

My cell phone rang one summer night, and I knew who ever it was, had an Asian accent. I had no idea who it was because I didn't recognize the phone number.The guy sounded pleasant enough, somewhat familiar, and he knew my name. Then I asked, "Who is this?" 

When he said the name, he put me in shock once again. It was him. My Asian hottie who gave me a fuck I'll never forget in a single bathroom at Avalon. He then gave me another shock. He was planning on moving back to Hong Kong by the end of the year. 

We had a good conversation about what each of us were up to. Then he asked me, "You've never been to my apartment, have you?" 

I replied, "No". 

"So you want to come over", he said. "We can have dinner and watch a movie." 

I was all geared up to go to Splash and dance the night away, but I said, "Sure." 

We planned a time, and I went. Completely unsure if this invitation of dinner and a movie included sex. I arrived late, which being the perfectionist I am, bugged me, but he was cool about it. 

While eating the dinner that he cooked (very well might I add), he told me that he had been thinking about moving back to Hong Kong for a while now. In fact, he officially made the decision about just before he met me, which explained alot. Such as the reason I stopped calling him was because I felt he wasn't putting in enough effort to get to know me. At that point, I realized why. His plans for the future were pre-occupied. 

He also told me he was spending a lot of time at the beach. Then he proceeded to tell me he had a tan that I would get to see later. Well that answered my question. Sex was included in the invitation to dinner and a movie. 

After dinner, we took a shower together, and I got to see how his upper body and lower legs were darker than his butt and thighs. With my thing for wet male bodies, you know I enjoyed soaping him up and rubbing his entire back from the neck on down to his ankles. 

After the shower, he gave me a pair of bikini underwear to put on. It was a pair that matched his. He caught himself babbling about how good my ass looked in them. Which I enjoyed, because I knew the more excited he got about my ass, the more intense a fuck he was going to put on me. He then had me lay on a chair that was the width of a love-seat, but long like a twin-size bed. When I layed down, I noticed I could see myself - in a full-length mirror angled in the direction of the chair. Now, I was getting real antsy to get plugged with his rod, because I knew when he started fucking me, I would see his ass flex while he pounded me. 

And that's just the view I got when he started to fuck me. He would sometimes tell me to look in the mirror, which there was no need to. I was seeing just what I wanted to see. His light ass flexing and shaking with each thrust into me. And me constantly groping his ass. I kept moaning things like, "Oh give that dick", "let me squeeze that ass", and "Oh Baby, your ass looks so fuckin' good, work it while you work that dick in me." 

And I didn't lie. Meanwhile, he's moaning and sweating with drops falling on me. And when I saw the sweat in the mirror on his back and ass, I really started begging for his dick. And when he came, every final hard thrust was my cue to grab another sweaty body part. His thighs, his ass, his back, I wanted it all. 

Afterwards, we layed together on the chair and watched "Alien Resurrection". So it was a weird order of things. Instead of the usual: dinner, movie, then sex. This time it was - dinner, sex, then the movie. 

After the movie, we decided to go to bed. He let me sleep on that huge chair, and he opted to sleep on a day bed in the living room. But a little while later, he came back, and joined me on the chair getting in front of me to spoon with me. We were both laying there with the same pair of underwear on. And as he leaned against me, my dick started getting so hard. I wasn't a versatile bottom, then. Back then, I was only a bottom. But it was asses like his that made me start experimenting with guys later. For being a man of few regrets, one of those few regrets of mine is that I didn't grab a condom, slip my hard-on right in between those smooth round mounds, and fuck him senseless just as he pleasingly fucked me. Instead, I fell asleep with a smile on my face because of 1)his body warmth in front of me, 2)my hard cock that wanted to ravish his ass, and 3) even though his cock wasn't that big, he fucked me with such passion , it felt like his cock was still in my ass. 

The next morning, we got up and I wrote down my email address before he walked me out, but we kissed so much after I wrote it down, we both forgot to make him give me his. Before he finally left for Hong Kong, I did run into him a couple of times, and it always slipped my mind. I do however run into a friend of his when I go out dancing, so maybe one day I'll get it from him. And if I do, should I discover he's coming here to New York, I may invite him to another tryst, or maybe I'll just say "Hello". That's the funny thing about time passing. You never know.

Originally posted on ThugPornBlog in 2007

Monday, August 15, 2011

The Asian Experience, Part 1

I find all races sexy. And while the prowess and presence of Blacks in the porn industry are understated, therefore under-appreciated, thereby under-utilized, the sexiness of Asian men is practically completely unstated, therefore unappreciated, thereby not utilized at all. But I have a couple of experiences with 1 Asian that shows why that should not be the case.

This Asian was someone I dated very briefly. Only one date to be exact, but after that date, we remained friends. However, even hanging out as friends, I sensed some sexual tension, and confronted him about those feelings. He said we were friends, but that he does have friends that he hooks up with occasionally. Since he didn't mention me as one of those possible hook-ups, I thought the coast was clear. And just when I was about to go into another subject, he burst out with, "But I still think about it with you, too." 

A part of me knew it, but the other part of me was in shock, and unfortunately the part in shock is what took over my mouth, because I told him that we had a good thing as friends and I wouldn't want to ruin that. What makes it worse is that I knew I was lying even while saying it. Because as that lie flew out of my mouth, I was thinking back to how on the night I met him, while we danced, I enjoyed rubbing his smooth chest, feeling his well-toned arms, and sneaking a touch of the 1st inch of roundness of his ass, just below his waist. We never spoke of it again, but a few short months later, he got me. 

Back when Avalon had Sundays as their gay night, we once ran into each other. From 10 - 11, only the bar was open, then after 11 or 12, they opened the dance floor. We walked around all the levels together, then we got to one of the upper levels. We looked back, and we saw a dark area near the stairwell. 

He said, "It looks like a dark alley way. Maybe they meant for it to look that way." He then turned to me, and started rubbing my chest, and I showed my true feelings and returned the favor by rubbing on his. He then walked away, and went into what seemed to be a single bathroom near there. Now, I'm not one for bathroom sex, but I figured, it's clean, no one's been in there tonight, so go for it. And he must have been hoping I would because he left the door unlocked. I walked in and he asked if I had a condom. I told him I did, pulled one out of my pocket and gave it to him. I didn't even look down to see his dick, I just turned around dropped my pants, and waited for his cock, however big it was, to open my tight hole. 

From the second the tip of the head of his cock touched my asshole, I got completely relaxed. Because all the mysteries about him below the waist were about to be revealed. I reached back, and massaged his balls and played with his pubes while guiding his cock into me. Once he was in, I reached back to massage his ass, and I could feel it flex with each thrust into me. I didn't realize how much I wanted his cock until I became aggressive and started grinding up and down on his dick. But that was too much for him, because he told me, "Oooh, don't do that with your ass, because you're going to make me cum too soon, then I'll have to go home." 

So I had to for once, just be still and enjoy the sensation of a cock sliding in and out of my hole, and the moans that came from him, because he loved how my tight asshole wrapped around his cock. And it was AWESOME. 

Once he came. I started grinding up against his butt and fondling his sweaty balls and his dick still moist from the mixture of cum and lube from the condom, and massaging his thighs as well. I then squatted down, then kissed and licked both ass cheeks. 

I told him, "I've always wanted to know what they look like naked." 

As you can see, to make me reveal my sexual attraction to him like that, when I say 'he got me', he really got me. 

Afterwards, we went our separate ways. I hung out with someone else, and so did he. And we didn't talk to each other for a few months. That is until one summer night, when I was considering going out to Splash, my cell phone rang with the surprise of it being him on the other end.

Originally posted on ThugPornBlog in 2007

Be sure to read Part 2

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Blog Rep For Truth...TESTED

Last week, someone I was involved with for about a month found himself to be in what he alleges was a racist incident at a NYC bar. This person who is White alleges that he went into the bar which he frequents with no problem. He then alleges realizing that his friend who is half-Hispanic was nowhere to be seen. He said that he went outside to find his friend, and his friend was standing outside claiming that the bouncer said that he wouldn't let him in. This is the point when the person I was involved with realized that there was a bouncer at the door. He alleges that he politely asked the bouncer why his friend wasn't allowed in. With no explanation given beyond the words, "He's not allowed in", the person I was involved with took it as a racist incident. With that being the case, he said that he then got in the bouncer's face and said, "Ha!"
This was allegedly countered by the bouncer punching the person I was involved with in the chest. And 2 more punches to the chest after that.

The person I was involved with suggested that I write a post telling of this incident. Now, with racism being a possible motive as to why the half-Hispanic friend was not let into this bar, you would think I would be all over this story. But while I'm telling this much of the story, what is absent is my detail-orientated style of blogging by using names, photographs, and links. With my style of blogging, this story could put me on the map of the blogsphere more than I already am. So why am I refraining from doing this story in such a fashion when I have all the tools? It's because of something I heard Judge Judy once say...

...I LOVE Judge Judy. And I recall in one episode, she told a plaintiff that as a plaintiff, "when you come into court, you must come into court with clean hands."

The problem is that while this bar might have been practicing racism, the person I was involved with is the same person who was the "escape artist drinker" to inspire my recent post, "Socializers & Escape...Um, Artists", and he and his friends had already been drinking elsewhere when they arrived with him admitting to me that he had been a little intoxicated. So along with his getting in that bouncer's face yelling "Ha!", I have firsthand knowledge of his belligerence after drinking. For me and him have had verbal battles over the phone because of him giving me bitchy attitudes for no good reason. And God only knows what situations have transpired in his past because of his belligerence after drinking that he knows he can't honestly tell me he's in the right about. Regardless, there's a history that I know of personally that I can't in good faith support his story.

His bitchy attitudes after drinking always result in him needing to apologize to me after, hence the price of Regret I spoke of in "Socializers & Escape...Um, Artists". Now, one part of my Christian upbringing that I still try to maintain is forgiveness. And God forgives us repeatedly. And I try to do the same. But the fact is am not God. I am a human, and that gives me a limit to what I can and should tolerate. And with that limit, I can't keep putting myself in the scenario to forgive someone when they are repeatedly apologizing for the same crime in such a short span of time. And in this guy's case, it was him repeatedly apologizing for some verbally abusive outburst after some level of drinking.

In any case, because of the drinking he did that night and his drinking with a side order of apologies that he kept serving me, the guy I was involved with did not have the "clean hands" Judge Judy spoke of. Far from it.  His hands wreak of alcohol, and not the good cleaning kind you find in hand sanitizer. Therefore as a writer, representing his side of the story would be me putting my blog's reputation for truth on the line. And the same would hold true for an attorney agreeing to represent him in any court case that could have been conjured up because of that incident.

There is a reason I have never been sued. Especially when I write a post and either email or tweet the person I am speaking of in the post. It's because the truth I present is undeniable. So it should be no surprise that with using the word "alleges" as many times as I did in that 1st paragraph and this guy's history of belligerence after drinking that I would chance this blog's reputation for telling the truth by telling of that incident in any greater detail.

So with my blog's reputation for truth tested....I do believe that I have PASSED with flying colors.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Write That Down #37

I've had many people that I've felt the need to part ways with. Now, while going to the extent of saying "you're dead to me" is pretty harsh, it is sadly sometimes necessary. And this is usually most necessary when someone takes your kind heart for granted, and refuses to do the humane thing by giving nowhere near the same capacity in return. Hence why my latest "Write That Down" quote reads:

Becoming dead to me is easy. Just show me that you are dumb enough to be dead inside to someone who is alive with caring as I am. A case where opposites DO NOT attract. And if they do attract, they soon repel.

What makes it easy is the fact that regardless of how disheartening and spirit-breaking the person's wrong-doing may be, I must survive. And those of you who have been in such a predicament, must do the same for yourselves.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Socializers & Escape...Um, Artists

Look at that! Isn't it beautiful? The beautiful colors of a bar.
The properly placed bottles to show off the gorgeous variety of shapes and colors of the liquors. And in some bars, beautifully colored lighting around those bottles meant to enhance those shapes and colors.

Sad thing is there is a fool born not every minute, but every second that falls prey to those ingredients of appeal.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend had a birthday celebration at his place. We were all drinking, but after the cab ride we took to attempt to go to a bar, I found myself very much wasted the same way I was in "Fucked Up & Fucked So". And like in that blog post, I found my body rejecting the alcohol by constantly vomiting. Considering the fact of how I can actually put away a good number of drinks if I want, but choose not to, this new incident of drunkenness made me ask myself as to why when I get that wasted can my body no longer hold in alcohol, meanwhile others hold in the liquors and end up doing something stupid, like being belligerent to those in their circle of friends and loved ones.

Well, I may have very well figured it out. It's probably because I unlike them am a social drinker, while others are drinking for the reason most people do ---out of escapism.

There are sometimes when I'll go to a bar and won't drink at all. I just simply went there to get out of the house, get the energy of other people around me, and nothing more. If I do drink, I'll have an attitude similar to the one I've had in most of my drug experimentations of "well, since it's there...whatever." Then I'll proceed to ask for one of the most simple drinks or weakest beer. I do this because I'm not drinking for the sake of escapism. And I think my vomiting is for the same reason. It's because since I'm not using alcohol for escapism's sake, my body has no desire to hold on to a strong liquor.

You see, I am no different than anybody else when it comes to having problems. I have aplenty. But unlike aplenty of people, I don't run to alcohol, drugs, and/or even sex as tools for escape. If I do use sex, nowadays it's in the form of masturbation, because I've reached a point of maturity where I don't like to involve others in my form of temporarily getting away. I already know others suffer like I do. But to avoid bad karma, I have no need to show myself living by the credo "misery loves company" by using another person's presence to drink, snort, shoot up, pill-pop, fuck, suck, or lick the pain away. I'd much rather suffer, pray and figure out my way to a brighter tomorrow alone, because whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And having the strength to go it alone without a controlled substance or sexual intercourse as a crutch makes you even stronger.

That previous paragraph may make me seem as if I think I'm some kind of saint. Trust me, if you've read of my sexual exploits, you know that I am far from that. But I have made my mistakes and have learned from them. Such as using sex with someone as a crutch.

Whether your crutch is sex, drugs, and/or alcohol, there's a reason to rethink using these crutches. If more people consider these reasons, they wouldn't use them as much. Or maybe not at all:

1) Blackouts - It's no fun being unable to recall your actions. Because if you don't (or can't) become self-aware of your bad history by saying you lived it, you are doomed to repeat it;
2) Hangovers - that headache after heavy drinking is no fun either. Especially for an Aries like myself. Since the body part that rules an Aries is the head, a headache to us is like Kryptonite to Superman. And the worst the headache, the more weakening the Kryptonite is to the Superman we think we are.
In all seriousness, the real problem here is that while social drinkers like myself are more likely to throw up the alcohol, thereby lessen the impact of a hangover, those who drink out of escapism will be more likely to suffer a hangover because their bodies hold on to the alcohol. For the simple reason that the alcohol is their believed tool of escaping their problem. When in all actuality it's not. This leads to why before you think of getting wasted, you need to ask your problems...
3) Going somewhere? - Because the answer will be an echoing "NO!!!!" All due, Einstein, to the undeniable fact that whatever problem you called yourself running from,'s still going to be there when you come down from your high or booze binge. And in your foolishness, you've actually added
4) Regrets to your list.  Giving yourself more problems by all the apologies you have to now give out for what you may have said  or did because of your drunken lushy state....Congratulations, Dumb-ass!!!

What I have said here may seem harsh, but it is a harshness that's necessary. And I know this because I have used it on myself. In my moments of drunkenness, I have lost memories of fragments of time, my vomiting lessened the impact of a hangover, and do have regrets because while I may not have become a belligerent drunk, I do regret putting my friends in a situation where they had to take care of me by doing things like helping me to simply walk out of a bar. So the only thing on the list that I didn't have to deal with is me deluding myself that my problems were going anywhere.

Now, are all these pretty shapes and colors worth the list of prices one must pay for trying to run away from the problems life might throw your way?

Next time you go to a bar, take a drug, or use a lay to attempt to be an, artist, you might want to think about that list.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Secret To A Good Blowjob? (ANSWERED)

Dunkin St. Laurent, author of "Dunkin's Playground" recently asked:
While I to date gave the only answer, this leads to my follow-up question:
What do you think is the secret to a good blowjob, meaning one that'll make you come?
When I first posted this question yesterday, I said that after the 1st response that I'll give an answer to my own question. First off, it's a shame that after all the hits this post has gotten so far, that it was a woman who gave an answer. So kudos to the woman who commented.

Anyway, while enthusiasm and a love of doing it are components to a good blowjob, they are not the secrets to a good one. Because you can be enthused and like doing it all you want, but if you don't do it properly, you are of no good to the recipient. So if it takes forever (or never) for him to shoot a load from you giving a blowjob, lack of skill could be part of the reason why.

While it is called "sucking dick", just putting your mouth around the cock isn't going to do much but bore him. I know because that's what it does for me. Yet too many guys wrap their mouth around the dick and nothing more. I think with so few guys lacking the proper skill, most guys you hear moaning in an orgy, sex party, or porn scene are doing so because they taught themselves that this is what's expected of them when someone attempts to give them head. Well, I'm big on being honest with myself. And if you suck at giving head, don't expect a hard-on, don't expect moaning, don't expect a rubbing of your head....because it's not fucking happening!

The secret to making a guy come from getting a blowjob is to use all parts of the mouth. Along with your lips and saliva, use a little suction to let him know you're trying to suck that man-milk produced in his balls with a thick straw called "his dick", and also use the somehow most ignored part of the mouth needed to make the best of blowjobs----the tongue.

It might surprise you to know that even though you have one, you might not have realized that the main point of sensation for a blowjob or actual intercourse is the head of the penis, especially in uncut males. But even with that being the case, you need to work the shaft as well, with your lips and tongue giving it a good massage. But do take NOTE:

Any guy trying to shove his entire shaft down your throat is overcompensating for the lack of power he has in his character.

Now back to the importance of the tongue and the head as your target. You need to tongue the head of the penis by licking it, sucking it, and slurping on it, while making the head your main focus point for combining your lips, tongue, and suction. But the part of the head that really needs the attention of your tongue and saliva is the frenulum of the penis.
When I first became sexually active, I thought that this was a sensitive area for only uncut men like myself. However, I've learned over time by the throbbing sensations and eruptions of jizz that I've caused by playing with this area on circumcised men, that it's a sensitive area on them as well.

So now you have the secret to creating a nice man-milk bath for yourself. Or (if you swallow) a protein shake.

Now, if I missed anything, feel free to answer here or in the comments section.

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