December 25th, 2015

 

Thanks to the many messages asking (well, bombarding) where the hell the stories of sex disappeared to, I’m calling this a Christmas miracle and spilling some recent beans.  Don’t let my whoring around completely color the way you think about me…  I’m still an Irish Catholic in reform.  Years and years of reform.

 

Between New Orleans and Las Vegas, I don’t think I’ve ever seen each city so packed with hot guys looking to play.  It’s as if actually going out to clubs has been replaced by simply jumping onto Grindr or A4A and finding someone to fuck with…  And that’s a little sad.  Vegas nightlife was packed, but that’s only because there’s such a lack of decent gay clubs.  New Orleans was dead silent most nights (well, on the gay end, at least).  Both cities were a welcome change from Key West, where most of the guys looking to hook up are either weather-beaten, drunk or both.  Gone are the days of a younger, beautiful guy vacationing in KW as prices have skyrocketed and other, larger beach cities have taken the lead.  Sad, but true:  Young gays don’t or can’t afford Key West.

Found the perfect bottom in New Orleans except for the tiny problem of him being too coked out to perform, which he failed to mention before meeting up.  Beautiful body.  5’10.  Compact, tight muscle.  High, bubble butt.  An obvious runner.  He was the kind of guy made for just throwing around a bed.  I ended up not throwing him out of bed for eating cookies (er, cocaine) and just gave him exactly what he wanted:  A long, hard fuck.  When he grunted that he wanted my hands around his neck while I pounded him, I knew he was one of those bottoms who was into getting seriously dominated.  In the end, I punished his hole for not telling me he was coked out and used him like the piece of meat he wanted to be.  Hot, near-roleplay.  The highlight was pulling out of his ass and forcing my cock down his throat when I pumped out a load.  Any guy who’s willing to swallow my nut is a man I want to spend time in bed with.

 

He texted me a week later to say I was the best top he’d had.  And I quote… ‘I’m still sore, dude.’ LOL.

 

Las Vegas was full of guys who talked a lot, but never actually had the balls to meet.  Flake central.  Tons of guys on the DL who are wanting to sneak away for a little play.  I don’t have an issue with that, but you’ve got to be realistic about what you can do in a short amount of free time.  I’m not going to rush sex just because your girlfriend is out of her spa appointment in 45 minutes.  If I’m going to look for a ‘straight’ top to fuck the sarcasm out of me, I don’t want to hear the 60 Minutes clock in the background (nor do I want to think about Andy Rooney or his eyebrows).

The other thing I’ve noticed about Vegas is that saying you’re on prep is the new ‘let’s bareback’ lingo.  For those of us who still care about our bodies and long-term health, take note.

Fast-forward through the flakes, I found a 6’3″ 220 muscular latin guy. Said he was straight but curious. Hung 8”uc.  At the same hotel.  Serendipity.  I answered the door in a pair of running tights and he showed up in a perfectly tight ribbed tank, skin tight jeans and flip flops.  He was beautiful…  And no fucking way was he straight nor curious.  Dude knew his way around a man’s body and fucked like the ship was going down.  It’s funny how when you’re wanting to play, your eyes are always bigger than your stomach.  It took a little hole-cajoling, but he slid into me and knew exactly how to hit a prostate.  Best yet, 10 minutes after he blew a load from fucking me, he got hard again and dumped another huge load on my face, neck and chest.  Perfect sex for that moment.  2 hours of play.  We got off, he got out.

 

Best thing about the Vegas guy was that he had a sneaker/gear fetish- Nothing hotter than sneakers, socks and a snapback cap on the right guy….

 

 

 

 

See what I mean?  :)

 

 

 

 

 

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