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Update!

 

 

There’s something really fucking sexy about an extended tease: Look, but don’t touch.  It’s sort of the same feeling I get about seeing a guy shirtless, or in briefs or really form-fitting workout gear.  You have the outline of his physique, perhaps some skin, but not the whole enchilada.  With it being relatively easy to go online and find full-on porn, there’s something to be said for leaving just enough to the imagination to make your mind go into overdrive.

Attention spans being what they are nowadays, I don’t think I’m in the majority on this, but it’s definitely one of the reasons why I don’t readily float XXX of myself out there.  Why give everything up front… What’s the fun in that?  To me, a thick bulge is a lot more sexy than watching some guy fully naked.  My motto is that sex (and being sexy) is really just great theater.  Too many guys can’t understand that…  And ultimately don’t have very interesting sex lives because of it.  Missionary position, rinse, repeat.  Familiarity breeds contempt, no?

 

For me, this week’s theatrical performance began at the end of a really killer legs day at the gym.  I had just paid handsomely to be beaten up by my bastard trainer and then hit the showers.  These particular showers are spotlit from above and separated using really thin, made-in-China frosted privacy glass.  It’s a great set of showers for exhibitionists and hell for those of you who grew up praying you’d never have to shower after climbing rope in gym class.  You can clearly see body outlines between stalls.  I can’t imagine this design wasn’t intentional: I remain convinced that Kevin Spacey was the lead designer on this locker room.

Stripped down. Walked to the showers (no towel, more fun that way). Cold as it’ll go (easier than coffee and better for muscle recovery). Lay back against the wall and mentally ask myself why the fuck I still beat myself up like this.  As I’m starting to soap up, the stall next to me opens and a tall, muscular looking form steps into the light.  His outline tells me he puts as much work into his workouts as I do.  I realize he can see as much of me as I can of him, so I try not to slouch like a tired slob and decide to slow down the soaping up just a little.  What’s life without some slo-mo action?

 

‘Ivory… So gentle, even gingers can jack off using it!’

 

Watching his body, it was clear he was dealing with a growing problem, which in turn meant I was dealing with a growing problem…  Which really meant there was no problem about this whole situation at all.  The shadow of his cock was impressive.  Thick and probably about 8 long.  He used long, slow strokes, staying turned to the side, knowing I’d get the best view of him that way.  I upped the ante by rubbing my now-rock hard dick against the glass wall between us.  By the sounds of it, that little horse & pony show put him over the edge.  He was a classic blow and go guy.  Never saw the dude’s face.  Wouldn’t know him in the gym if I bumped into him.  And that’s fine with me.  It was the tease and the barely-there glass partition that made it so fucking sexy in the first place.

 

 

 

So, what was the common denominator with all the guys I had sex with while I was recently in Puerto Vallarta?  They all had super hot armpits.  Seriously.

I’ve always had a fetish for the pec muscles that extend into the armpit and bicep, creating this incredibly sexy symmetry on a guy’s body when his arms are above his head.  Developed lats also help.  Put a nice pair of shoulders into the equation and you’ve basically got at least a guaranteed few loads out of me already.  I’m equally into other guy’s pits as I am with guys playing with mine.  A couple of weeks ago, I had a guy licking my armpits as I was jacking off and I couldn’t have cum any quicker.  It was wild.  When people talk about having a hot button, I never really understood it…  Until now.

 

 

Honestly, I’ve met a ton of guys who are turned on by things like feet, armpits, socks, shoes, gym gear…  Anything having to do with an athlete or being athletic.  It’s not that uncommon, really.  At the very base level of this, it’s being attracted to a guy’s guy.  For me, it’s one of the reasons I identify as being gay:  I like men who look and act like men.  It’s just what turns me on and what I personally gravitate towards.  While I’ve been with plenty of guys who might be considered ‘straight acting,’ I don’t usually go for men who are on the down-low or totally out of touch with who they really are.  There have been times I’ve gone for guys who serve a specific purpose, but on the whole, I want an interactive, comfortable-with-himself fuck bud.

 

 

This Vallarta visit actually had me shacking up in the Southern fishing village Mismaloya, about 30 minutes away from the main part of PV.  It’s the authentic, relaxing, basic Mexico you read about in adjective-laden T&L.  I learned how to use the bus system, which ended up being awesome (and cheap. 10 pesos).  It was always on-time and could get me into PV centro in about 25 minutes.  You can also take it further South and hit some truly beautiful, quiet local beaches.  Colomitos and Boca beach are perfect if you want to hear the waves, have a cheap, cold Michelada and learn to speak a little Spanish.  The first step in any intrepid traveler’s playbook is learning to get over the fear of speaking another language…  Just try.  You’ll be surprised how quickly locals will warm up and go out of their way to help you out.

 

 

The sexual lure of Mexico, specifically PV, is strong.  Probably the most gay friendly city in the country, the sunny, warm weather and constantly semi-clothed, humid nature of the beach town makes it a natural fit for fun.  I’ve always felt safe going solo to the bars, the baths and the beach, even though at 6’3”, 195 lbs (and a ginger), I stand out like Michael Moore at GM plant.

My only issue with PV is the increasingly young gay visitor who mainly uses Grindr to hook up…  Usually one white guy looking for another white guy (as per usual).  The nightlife scene there used to be a diverse mix of all kinds of guys, but it’s quickly turning into the standardized whiteguy4whiteguy only crowd.  I don’t know how to combat this kind of thing, but the level of homosexual homogenization is concerning.  Truth be told, it’s not as if inner-discrimination is a new thing for us.  The gay community tends to be the worst amongst their own.

If you’re into muscular, hung Mexican guys, PV is your spot.  Bottom line: They don’t waste a lot of time with small talk and tend to either be strict tops or power bottoms.  Rarely have I found a guy there who can fuck and get fucked in one go.  Most of my play in PV has been with built Mexican guys, hung and about a 50/50 split of activo and passive.  The top guys I’ve played with have all been what I would consider hardcore, fuck-cum-and-go kind of situations which usually works for me when I’m in the mood for that.  To be frank, when I’m wanting to put a dick in me, I’m usually looking for a dude to just pound the fuck outta my ass, drop his load and get the fuck on with it.  As a top, I’m all over the board.  It’s really about what the bottom wants and taking his verbal/non-verbal cues.  My goal is to make sure he can’t help but have an insane orgasm.  When the timing’s right, the best thing in the world is pounding a load into his ass while watching him squirt across his chest and stomach.

A quick look at some of the guys I met on the last visit…  All fun dudes.  All super chill and open to a wide variety of things.

 

 

As much fun as they were, they didn’t compare to the wacky night I spent at Wet Dreams, a strip club in La Zona Romantica with naked gents, seriously overpriced drinks and a sexy shower show setup behind the bar.  Cover can vary, but if you speak Spanish, it seems like they charge you a lot less ($5USD).  I’d recommend going in with a fair amount of cash, as they only take USD and pesos, no plastic.  There are small private cubicles in the back for dances.  Expect to tip the bouncer in the back as well as negotiating the dancer’s per-song price.  Oddly enough, this was the first time I had ever done anything ‘back room’ with a stripper and was pretty green about the whole thing.  Luckily for me, the guy I went back with was a real pro.

He was 6’, blue eyes and had a lean, muscled body.  He looked like a lot of chilangos I know in Mexico City: Possibly mistaken for a white guy, but with exotic features, light brown skin and light eyes.  As soon as I got into the bar, he made it clear that if I was going back for a private dance, it was going to be with him.  His confidence was sexy.  His cock, girthy and a rock-hard 8.5, hit my upper leg with a nice thud as I sat at the bar to order a beer.  Solid sales tactic.  Okay…  He had himself a deal.

Chugged the beer and a took a quick shot of Casa Dragones for courage-  I was headed to the back with this guy.  I told him in Spanish no tengo ni idea de lo que estoy haciendo.  He laughed and immediately peeled off my shirt, sat me down in the booth and started grinding against my dick, which was kinda counter-productive as I had been rock hard since walking into the bar.  Naturally, I knew I was on a clock with this, but this guy took such effortless control of the situation that I just laid back and let him do his thing.  Sexual autopilot.

I don’t remember what song was playing.  I don’t know how long I was there for.  In hindsight, I probably should have worried more about that.  All I can safely say is that at some point, he unbuttoned my shorts and put my dick in his mouth.  Wasn’t expecting that one.  It was as he was blowing me that I knew for sure he was gay…  No straight man deep throats dick that well.  He had that expert combo of throat, lips, tongue and hand usage that put me on the edge of unloading much faster than I wanted. 

He kept going. 

Mom always taught me to be a thoughtful, polite slut, so I told him me estoy viniendo! 

He kept going.  My kinda dedication.

Six intense shots of cum later, he swallowed it all, smiled and directed me to the convenient wall-mounted Purell dispenser on my left.  I tipped him well and hit the door.

What I enjoyed most about the rest of the night was that as he continued to work the club, he also continued to work me, whispering some seriously dirty shit in my ear as I was having a drink at the bar and encouraging me to take him back into the back for round two.  For some people, that might be too much, but for me- in that environment- it was perfect.  I’m not at a strip bar or a bathhouse to hold hands, cuddle and take part in a rose ceremony.  It’s places like these where a man’s natural instinct to fuck as much as possible should be accepted and encouraged.  No judgement.

I don’t know if this kind of experience is the norm in strip clubs, but damn if I didn’t enjoy it.  Viva Mexico!

 

I had a recent back and forth with another well-known, highly-reviewed guy in the industry.  It was a warm, complimentary exchange, but one thing about it left me a little perplexed:  It felt scripted.  Insincere.  A crocodile wide, toothy grin of a message.  While I’m sure he meant what he said, I also think that he’s become so accustomed to the public ‘face’ he puts on that everything now comes across as saccharine a Make-A-Wish press release.  I wanted to reply and ask him how he really felt about the situation- all bullshit aside- but knew that it would probably have made him uncomfortable.

I fell into this trap early on in my career and for a time, I let it control how I communicated with people.  It wasn’t the real me: It was who I thought ‘Benjamin Nicholas’ should be at that point. In creating the name- and if you’re smart and have some sense of marketing savvy- you also create the persona. People only know what you show them.  At some point, you’ve got to marry the persona and the person or you’ll end up leading an incredibly tiring double-life.  This isn’t Hollywood where we all have large teams of people managing our image.  For most of us, it’s a one-man-show that involves a lot of time on the backend.  Like any good Broadway show, the best of us make it look effortless.  Our job isn’t to remind you how tough life is…  It’s showing you the great adventures ahead.

Ultimately, I found my no bullshit voice and was able to curb the Pollyanna routine.  It not only made me more in-demand as an escort, but allowed me to be me all of the time. I’m a healthier, happier person because of it.

 

I recently updated my online pic archive.  Most day-to-day snapshots and smart ass commentary can be found on Twitter.  Click on the icons above to check me out and keep up with BN across the web.  I still have the anonymous Q&A site, but since implementing their restrictive TOS, it’s tough for me to be as honest as I’d like to be.  They seriously inhibit what I can post.  Frankly, I see it dying a slow, uneventful death.

I’m not a huge watcher of online porn, but lately my taste for straight porn is a little odd.  Granted, I’m picking the vids of hot guys fucking girls, a welcome change from old-school porn where the guys all looked like five miles of rough road.  Anyone else into watching straight guys fuck?

These two videos are just plain sexy. 

Hot Straight Guy Uno

Hot Straight Guy Dos

 

I hope to get another post up on 15MM very early in May, as my mid-late May starts again with back-to-back travel and doesn’t let up until late August.  Trips include London, Mykonos, Bangkok, Las Vegas, NYC, Tel Aviv and happily back to Tokyo.  I’m excited and exhausted just thinking about it.

 

 

 

 

As always, I appreciate you stopping by.  Be well,

 

 

 

 

 

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