Friday, March 21, 2014

Slut Phase Victim #3: The All-Nighter

I woke up at one point in the night, covered in sweat, and feeling the need to break away from the source of the heat. He was snoring behind me, spooning me, snuggle up close and when I remembered where I was I no longer minded. And when I felt his cock nestled up against my ass, I pushed back a little and enjoyed the company. I had never met this man before, and it was this night that had me firmly convinced I had indeed turned into a slut. We'd chatted a few times on Scruff. He came off as a nice guy. He was fully out, openly gay and unattached. He had blonde hair with blue eyes. Somewhat hairy. Almost a foot shorter than me. I knew I wanted to hook up with him almost immediately, but neither of us could host. Me, for obvious reasons. Him, because he was somewhat new to the area and was living with family. On the second night chatting with him, he mentioned going out of town for work in another week or so. And, if I really wanted to hook up, I should meet him, and spend the night in his hotel room. This wasn't a possibility; my situation doesn't lend itself to taking off for a night without much explanation or cause. However, as luck would have, over the next couple of days things started lining up to where I would actually need to be in the same town at the same time. It's as almost as if fate wanted us to meet. LOL. Admittedly, the idea of spending an entire night with a stranger is a bit scary. I could be brave, because I would have my own hotel room to escape too if needed. When I asked if he was serious about inviting me, he hesitated, understandably. Ultimately, obviously, he agreed. I think that part of his hesitation was actually due to me being married and closeted. I showed up at his hotel pretty late, after 9. I drove up after work, and after taking care of a few other errands. My work commitments were for the next day, while he had already been there a couple of days. When I arrived, things were a bit tenuous and nervous at first. After all, aside from texting one another and sending pics of ourselves, we'd never met. He invited me in, I lay down on his bed, fully dressed, while he was in boxers and a T, and we talked. We talked for a good hour, and got comfortable. Then he invited me to get undressed and to get into bed. I undressed down to my own boxers and T-shirt, and got under the covers. We talked for a bit more, after he had turned out the light, and he was cuddling up on me. Things progressed pretty quickly from there. He had my shirt off, kept rubbing my chest and shoulders. I pulled his shirt off and was rubbing his back while pulling him down on top of me. I could feel his rock solid cock pushing against my lower stomach. And we kissed.
I don't think the kissing stopped much during the activities of the night. Except, that I had his cock in my mouth for a good while, and he had mine in his for almost as long. We both worked up a serious sweat, rolling back and forth to him being on top, than me, than him, and so on. I learned that I liked to bite his nipples, though I honestly couldn't tell you if that did anything for him. I also learned that I loved sucking on his cock. My skills still need work, but they're improving. What he really wanted to do was to slide his cock up and down the crack of my ass, which I gladly agreed to. The next 15 to 20 minutes reminded me of the dream I had about being taken from behind, the one that I wrote about here. I was lying on my stomach, he was laying on top of me. I loved the feel of all of his weight. He slid his cock back and forth across my hole. At times, it felt as though it might just pop right in. At times his hands were on my back or shoulders, holding himself up. And at
another he'd collapse on top of me and just his hips would hump into me. When he got close, he jumped up on his knees and began stroking himself. I thought about turning over so that
he could cum on my chest, but thought better of it. He came all over my ass. After his orgasm subsided, he grabbed a towel and cleaned me up. I flipped over and began stroking myself while he sucked on my balls. It wasn't long before I was spurting all over my chest. Once the first wave passed, he moved my hand away and swallowed my cock. I was so sensitive, it almost felt like I had just cum a second time. We both collapsed into bed. I used the same towel to clean myself up again. It was long before we both passed out. I woke up several times throughout the night. Once, I was the big spoon, with my cock firmly nuzzled between his cheeks. Another, just as my story began, he was nuzzling me. I had to get up and out early the next morning. But that didn't stop us from having some more fun. After a lot of kissing and wrestling, he both settled on our backs, butt to butt, with our balls smashed against each other and our legs tangled in the other. I was stroking my cock was my other hand was tugging on his balls and massage anything I could reach. He was stroking his cock while staring at me and using one his hands to hold up one of my legs. My orgasm came quickly, and my cum shot straight into the air and splattered over the both of us. His came a little
slower, but put my own to shame. At that point, I was running late. I quickly hopped into the shower, then got dressed and ran a comb through my hair. Maybe only 5 minutes passed between jumping out of bed and walking out the door. The whole time he stayed naked, walking around the room, carrying on with the conversation. If I could have, I would have called in sick, dropped to my knees, and swallowed his cock. But I had to go. I grabbed his ass as we kissed goodbye, and took off. This rendezvous occurred about a month and a half ago. Since then, I've hooked up with this guy two or three more times. I'll call him Nate (Or Slut Victim #3) from here on out, and perhaps this can become a regular thing. Who knows.

Friday, February 28, 2014

Atlas Shrugged

I love that phrase, "Atlas Shrugged".  I don't know, it just conjures up so many thoughts and images.  I know it is the title of a book by Ayn Rand, which was later made into a movie.  But that's not what my past is about.  Atlas shrugged. Can you imagine?  Imagine the implications to both Atlas, and to the world.  In case you don't know, Atlas is a figure made most popular in Greek Mythology, a titan forced to hold up the heavens on his shoulders. For many, the myths have changed so that Atlas hold up the Earth on his shoulders. Either way, imagine what might happen if Atlas were to shrug.

For me, I think about the possibilities of letting your responsibilities and commitments go.  Of actually shrugging them off, even for a brief moment.  The immense relief one might feel if all the weight on their shoulders were to suddenly lift away.  But that's not all, almost immediately after the sense of relief would come a sense of fear, regret, or shame.  What would the affect be, to Atlas, when the very precious thing he is tasked to carry falls? What would happes to the heavens, or to the earth, when Atlas is no longer holding it up? What happens to all those people who are depending on you to carry your weight?

Many of you reading this would assume that I am cracking under the pressure.  That's not true.  Yes, I am under pressure and stress.  I have a lot of responsibilities.  Often it seems like I cannot get the space or the time to plan out how to get what I want, let alone the time to figure out what that is.  The pressure, the stress, is no more than normal, no more than any of my neighbors or any of you might be feeling at any given moment.  For some reason, perhaps as a Freudian slip, the phrase "Atlas Shrugged" popped into my head this morning, and I felt the need to write about it.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Fidelity

So this is one of those posts that I started a couple of month ago, but never finished.  I read back through it, and I decided to go ahead and post it even though it's incongruous with my current slut phase.

*****

Something has been on my mind lately. A dilemma. I can't decide if it's something that I want to deal with. Actually, I can't decide if it is something that I want to even think about whether it is something I want to deal with. Is that enough double speak for you? You should try living inside my head.

The dilemma has to do with my marriage and my fidelity. I've posted a bit about this before. What I'm worried about is to what degree have I been lying to myself. And, if I've been lying to myself, is there any hope for me and my marriage.

I saw something on Facebook that snapped this issue back into my face. It was one of those generic postings that several different people liked and shared, so I was forced to see it several times. It was a link to an article titled "Marriage is not for me".

The article starts off with the author, a man, explaining his fears about getting married. He was engaged to his best friend, a woman who had been with him for years. The man, despite his love for the woman, was doubting whether he was marrying the right one.

So the man confesses to his father his doubts. His father replies simply with, "you are being selfish, you don't get married for you. You get married to make the other person happy."

That thought hit home. Of course, the article plays on words and emotions so that you are expecting some revelation about how marriage isn't right for everyone. Perhaps this guy is meant to be a life long bachelor. But that's not the revelation. Once the author realized that it was more important to him that he devote his life to making his fiancé happy than making himself happy, it was a no brainer.

Did I enter into my marriage with the right expectations? With the right frame of mind? Was I thinking about making my wife happy? Or was I only trying to make myself happy.

When I chose, now a couple of years ago, to venture across the line, who was I really trying to satisfy? Well, jeez, I know the answer to that question is obvious. Little Jay was in control. But I rationalized, even to this day, that it was the best option for all involved. It allowed me to experience something I desperately wanted to experience, without threatening my current situation.

*****

Had I finished this post back when I started it, I would have written about how I was struggling with the decision of whether to keep doing what I'm doing.  I was seriously considering playing it straight, exclusively, from that point forward.  Well, I guess you know what happened to that line of thinking.  Not that I actually resolved anything, except that I resolved to put the question on hold for a time.  To be struggled with on another day.

Friday, February 21, 2014

Porn Rot

I am beginning to think that it is highly likely that porn has rotted my brain.

Since the invention of the world wide web, I have been somewhat addicted to downloading pictures of naked men off the internet. Since I began my blog, I've stepped up my collection process.  I've subscribed to more blogs and tumblrs than I can count.  I browse through them on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis, saving anything that peaks my interest to my google photos account.  The idea is that later, as I am writing posts, I will have a huge selection of photos to choose from. This began a couple of years ago.  Today I have tens of thousand of photos saved.  A few duplicates, yes, but more than I could possible use in a lifetime.  And it's not just naked men, it's groups of naked men.  And they're not just posing for the photo, they are sucking, rimming, 69'ing, fucking, you name it.  Men of all ages, body types, ethnic backgrounds, cultures.  I have entire libraries devoted to jocks, cowboys, bears, muscle-bears, and twinks.  Solos, duos, groups, men blowing, men kissing, men fucking.  And that doesn't even count those that include or are exclusively women. Lately, animated GIFs have completely taken over, so I don't even need to imagine what the scene is the photo is depicting.

So, why do I think porn has rotted my brain?

It used to be that I could enjoy some private time to myself, in bed, with nothing but some lube, something to

I've found that my imagination alone is no longer enough.  I can't hold a fantasy as well as before.  My mind wonders, and it doesn't get me as "hot and bothered".  I've found that I need the photos, or the videos, to really get me going.  I can't even "relive" any of my recent experiences, because they are not vivid enough. My time with slut phase victim #1 or #2 were so hot, I just be walking around with a perpetual boner.
clean up with, and my imagination. I would play out elaborate fantasies in my mind that could get me cumming in as little as a few minutes, or I could stretch them out to last over an hour.  I think my record is just under two hours. You'd think with my recent experiences and my slut phase, I'd have more spank-bank material than ever.

This could be due to my extremely advanced age of 38, I don't know.  I've certainly read in other places the affects of porn on people, but I never gave it much thought before.  Maybe I need to take a break from my constant photo collecting?  Or is this just what it's come to?  Thoughts?

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Slut Phase Victim #2

I have already plummeted deep into my slut phase, since I am now up to random encounters with 4 men, one of them twice.  Number 2 was Doug, I guy I met on Scruff (and Growlr simultaneously).  I was working out of town for the day, more than a 100 miles away from home.  I had Scruff, Growlr, and Grindr all running on my phone. (I mentioned the slut phase, right?)  I was actually working at a public event with several hundred people, and I got a little thrill out of the prospect that I might run into another guy at the event, who was also using one of these apps.

So I have all these apps running, and I'm having several simultaneous chats.  I actually told a couple of these guys that I would come over after the event. I don't know what I was thinking, I became one of those flakes I hear so much about.  One guy in particular was Doug. He was hot. Despite the fact that he dramatically shorter than I, he was almost exactly my type.  Well built, great smile, beard, dark hair and eyes.  I wasn't sure why he was so interested in me, but I was enjoying the chat.

I decided to meet up with him.  I should say, I accepted his invitation.  I had already cancelled on the others because I ended up leaving the event much later than I originally planned.  (Because, you know, I was actually going to have a couple of hookups in the same night before I was held up)  So Doug asked me to come over, I said yes, and then...  no response!

Well, I guess I got what I deserved, right?  I waited a bit, to see if he would answer.  I drove around in the general direction I thought I needed to go.  But I finally gave up and got on the freeway to head home.  It wasn't for another 10 minutes that he finally texted back.  He said his phone had died, and he apologized.  I didn't care, I only wanted to know how far away he was.  (Can you tell I was a bit horny?)  Fortunately he was close, only a couple of minutes away.  I quickly got off and back on the freeway going in the other direction.

I arrived at his apartment about 10 minutes later.  It was one of those places where I had to be buzzed in. Why do all the guys I meet live in better homes than I do?  He buzzed me in, and I went up to his fourth floor apartment and knocked on the door.

I was not disappointed by what I saw when he answered the door.  He had a proud chest, tight body, great face and smile.  He was wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.  Yeah, he was shorter than me.  When I say that he was shorter, I mean that he literally was a foot shorter.  But I didn't care.  We made some small talk, sitting on the couch of his dimly lit but nice apartment.  It wasn't very long before he was on top of me.  We made out of a few minutes, I could tell he loved shoving his tongue deep into my mouth, and he loved his when I shoved my tongue into his.

I had my hands on his ass, and fuck he has a nice ass!  It was a tight bubble butt that just felt perfect in my hands.  I loved squeezing them and pulling his groin in tighter against mine.  We slowly shed our clothes, first his shirt, then mine.  This his jeans, then mine.  Despite his smaller frame, his cock was larger than mine.  And I loved the feel of it, rock hard, sheathed in cotton, pressed against my belly button.  It wasn't long after that that all of our clothes were off and his mouth was on my cock.  He told me earlier in the evening that he was good with his tongue, and he wasn't kidding.  I definitely have a lot to learn when it comes to BJs.  After a few minutes of him slobbering on my cock, I pulled him up so that he could feed me his.

That was when I realized that he was uncut.  I was so proud, my first uncut cock!  LOL.  I can say with certainty now, I love an uncut cock.  He obviously took hygiene seriously, because I tasted nothing but sweet and smooth skin as his cock slid down my tongue in push slowly into my throat.  The extra skin changed something about the experience.  I've also loved how a cock can feel rock hard but soft at the same time, and this time was even more so.  The extra skin added even more silkiness.

He was back on my cock after only a couple of minutes.  I was moaning so loudly, I'm sure if he had neighbors they heard me.  It wasn't long before I was cumming in his mouth.  He took every drop and swallowed it.  He fed me his cock again, and I tried with all my might to bring him to orgasm.  Ultimately, he had to jack off while standing over me.  When he came, his shot all over my chest, neck and face.

The awkward moments afterwards have gotten to the point where they're comical.  I knew full well what was going to happen next, but I couldn't avoid it.  We'd clean up, and I'd try to get out of there as fast as I could.  Not only did I not really have the time to stop in the first place, but the strained small talk is so painful it's almost unbearable.  However, I can take pride in that he was already talking about the next time we'd get together, and how next time, he wanted more time.

I got dressed, and got out of there.  He knew I was short on time, so I didn't feel too bad about it.  We texted back and forth a couple of times on my way home, and a couple of times since.  I can't wait till my next trip out of town.