This holiday season, I’m thankful for clients who can give a blowjob until I can’t control shooting a load down their throat.  It’s not always easy to get me off orally, but for those who have the right technique, I remain in awe and truly thankful.  You’re the true heroes.  #SquirtResponders

The gay holiday cliche rings true… Every time a tramp swallows cum, an angel gets their butt plug.

 

 

Since we last spoke, I’ve been to a lot of fucking places as well as fucking IN a lot of places:  Mexico City, Orlando, Punta Cana (with credit to Gloria Gaynor- I survived), London, Barcelona, Provence, Nice, Monte Carlo, Florence, Pisa and all through Tuscany.  A nearly-solid two months of being away from Dallas and now, spending December in slow-mo mode, only having firm plans for Las Vegas and a quick trip back to San Antonio.  New Years Eve hasn’t been settled yet, so for the time being, no residual jet lag and happy to be here in my own bed, with my own pillows, my familiar gym and the springlike 65 degree days of a Dallas wintertime.

Mexico City has quickly become a favorite city to visit and perhaps my favorite city in the world.  Contrary to middle America’s belief, it’s perfectly safe as long as you use common sense, incredibly civilized and has a metro energy that’s 100% genuine and culturally on the cutting edge.  The peso remains weak against the dollar, so prices are affordable and chilangos go out of their way to be helpful and friendly if you smile, say hola and are open to the language (and possibly a shot or two of mezcal).

Over the last year, I’ve been spending a considerable amount of time there with one particular client and he’s always been cool about trying new things, pushing his sexual boundaries and enhancing mine.  This last trip, we hit up So.Do.Me, which is one of the newer gay saunas in the Polanco neighborhood.  It’s not Steamworks Chicago, but it gets the job done if you’re looking for a nice variety of ages and body types.  The age range skews younger, but everyone seems open to play.  I didn’t sense any major attitude.  It felt more like a European sauna.  Very social.  Lots of eye contact.  Actual conversations before and after sex.

 

Got a room and stripped down to my usual bath uniform: tight, white briefs, snapback cap and running shoes.  I’ve stepped on too many ugly-odd-squishy-unmentionable things in baths while barefoot to not have learned my lesson.  Tip: cross-trainers in a sex club aren’t only for keeping healthy feet, but they also give you better traction if you’re going to pound a guy down in a darkroom.  My number one suggestion is that you use a pair of shoes you can wash, like a pair of Nike Free Knits.  Easy to throw in a washer.  Cum (etc) doesn’t stand a chance.

My guy was staying put in the room to warm up with some bareback porn, but told me to roam around, have some fun and see what was out there.  Our only rule was that I couldn’t blow a load without him watching it, which left my solo time around the sauna really nothing more than prolonged sexual edging… Pretty hot, actually.  I kinda like that setup, knowing that when everyone was ready to nut, I’d just bring someone back to the room.

So, being the token white, tall, built, bleach-blond guy in a Mexican sauna has its advantages and disadvantages.  While the place was pretty big with lots of dark spaces, at some point I was being followed by, what felt like, almost everyone there.  Everyone wants to be wanted, but when you’ve got 20 people on your tail, stopping when you stop, all waiting for something to happen, it can get a little awkward.  It’s those moments that you basically have two options.  You either retreat or you say ‘what the fuck.’  If you haven’t gathered by now, I’m more of a what-the-fuck kind of guy.  You only live once…  And Risky Business is a favorite film.

The guy was mid-30s, compact, broad shoulders with a gymnast V-shaped taped.  Great legs and a high, tight muscle ass.  He had a sexy macho swagger, buzzed/fade haircut and light brown skin.  His towel was tight enough around him that I could tell he was neither Jewish nor embarrassed about letting people know he was gifted with a very thick piece of meat.

The goal here was to let him edge me in public, give the crowd a little show and then tag his hot ass back in private.  We got into a UV-lit dark space and I turned around and pushed the guy down into my bulge.  The universal language of slut clicked, he dropped his towel, put my dick in his mouth and started jerking his now fully-hard, incredibly gigantic dick.  Even in a black-lit room, I could see how big it was.  Easy 9 inches.  Thick with an upward curve, tailor-made for a bottom who enjoys hands-free orgasms.

I had to give it to the guy… He knew how to expertly work his hand into the blowjob, but what was turning me on most was watching the group of guys around us.  Some were just staring.  The smart ones were stroking.  My personal goal in all of this was to see how many guys would blow their loads while watching us, without actually cumming myself.  Not an easy thing when the guy swallowing your dick was this talented.  Like Mexico’s Got Talent talented.  It also didn’t help that I was seriously getting turned on by the exhibitionism angle to all of this, rubbing my armpits and flexing a little for the guys watching.

Within 30 seconds, We had the first couple of guys shoot huge loads in front of us.  The nut ended up landing on the guy blowing me and some splashed on my stomach.  He didn’t miss a beat, stayed on his knees and kept on working my dick.  Suddenly, this went from simple duo to a full-on bukkake dynamic.  I amped up the flex/pit/nip show for the crowd.  I wanted to see as many of the group blow their loads on this guy.  I wanted him to leave looking like an expertly glazed doughnut.

What was cool was watching the group suddenly realize that they could just let go and cum on this guy.  One-by-one, the 10 or so guys there all shot their loads, mostly onto the guy blowing me, some landing on me by proxy, which I was cool with.  The guy never stopped sucking my dick, even when some of the group’s cum crept down my stomach and into his mouth.

Fucking hot.

By the end of it, the dude was a sexy mess. I told him in spanish to shower up and meet me back at my room. This was far from over.

20 minutes later, he knocked at our door, squeaky clean and his gigantic meat still hard as a rock.  My client gave the thumbs up on my find and I had a pretty good idea of what scene I was wanting to happen.  In Spanish, I asked the guy if he was cool with fucking my guy and he said sure.  During this whole non-english conversation, my client wasn’t understanding a word of what we were saying, turning me on even more knowing that he was going to be in for a big, thick surprise.

9.5 inches of surprise, actually. 

When the guy took off his towel, his huge dick slapped heavily to the side of his thigh.  It was so hot that I considered asking him if I could record the sound to use as my ringtone.  As delicious as it looked and as fun as it would have been to try to fit it inside of me, I wasn’t playing bitch bottom that night and was only interested in directing him to pound out my client while I watched.  I told the guy to be verbal about how he wanted my client positioned and that I’d translate it into english.  Before I knew it, we had one gent on his hands and knees and a hung, grunting, sweaty Mexican who looked like he seriously wanted to fuck and fill this guy’s hole.

He asked for lube: I told him to get creative.  He dropped a nice, thick spit in his ass and worked his tool into my client’s ass slowly, clearly knowing what he was doing as he was able to get the whole thing in pretty quickly.  I positioned myself so my guy could keep his mouth busy with my dick.  Thanksgiving came early: client was stuffed on both ends, which based on the look on his face was exactly his happy place.  I’d have been perfectly cool getting to watch the Mexican fuck and seed my client while I came in his mouth, but a quick ‘hey, get the fuck over here and fuck my ass’ in Spanish changed that pretty fast.

 

Quiero que me folles el culo

 

Without missing a beat, I pulled out my now-lubed cock from client’s mouth, got behind the Mexican and pushed it into his hole.  See, the trick to a good daisy-chain is making sure the two guys doing the fucking can get into a rhythm…  And we did.  The goat-like bleating of ecstasy coming from my client meant he was going to cum soon, which meant I wanted to make sure the Mexican would also shoot his load.  I fucked him hard from just below so that I was directly hitting his prostate.  That’s a magic button for most guys.  He couldn’t take much before telling us that he was going to shoot.  I told him in Spanish to keep fucking until his load was in my client’s ass and then in english told my client he was getting seeded by this guy.  Funny as it seems now, I was talking dirty to both of them in two separate languages and they both were getting off on it.

I’m the jacked, hot, white version of Cesar Milan.  Please call me The Whore Whisperer. 

Mexican starts to blow his load.  Client can tell he’s cumming and squirts his own load.  I quickly ramp it up and make sure I get my nut inside the Mexican’s ass.  Everyone’s happy.  Everyone’s sweaty.  The cubicle smells like a locker room.  I could use a moist towelette.

Just writing about it now, it still turns me on.  It was great sex.  The kind of sex that I’ll remember for a long, long time.  The kind of sex you tell your grandchildren about and then immediately worry if you’ve possibly shared too much.  Caution be thrown to the wind…  I’m glad I could share it here with you.

 

So, we move onto Orlando, the city as uninteresting and plastic as a Southern debutante.  Sure, I criticize but I also still have a misplaced, wacky love for the theme parks and crappy Darden-chain eateries on I-Drive.  It’s a place I go at least once a year for the Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights event, so there’s a certain comfort in repetition.  For the past few years, I’ve been fortunate enough to have a base in Disney’s Golden Oak, which is a super controlled, wildly expensive bubble for homeowners and hotel guests who want the mouse to handle all of the dirty details.  It’s the only fully Disney-built, Disney-run development that you can live within.

Imagine a controlled-access country club that’s created by the Imagineers and managed by the Mouse: With that comes optional Club 33 access, VIP guides through the parks (no lines) and the feeling that no matter what ridiculous thing you ask for, the answer will always be an immediate ‘yes, of course.’  While it’s fantastical and easy to get caught up in it, I never let myself forget that I’m merely just a very fortunate visitor.  I remain in quiet awe of those here who live this as their daily life.

HHN 29 felt less scary with more emphasis on bottom line and the mechanics of quickly turning people over.  While still the largest, most complex Halloween event in the world, it’s fully moved past caring about the guest experience and is running solely as a profit machine.  The houses remain ultra detailed and incredibly atmospheric, but they’re herding you so fast through the sets that you can’t really appreciate any of it.  I call it the Comcast corp conga line.  At $3k+ for a private tour through the event, it’s not worth it to me anymore.  After 20+ years of going to this event, I’ll be heading somewhere new.  It’s time.

We also made the trek out to The Parliament House: The old-guard, former motel, gay bar complex in Orlando- but quickly realized that both the neighborhood and target market were bad news.  We stayed for a drink, a spin on the TouchTunes jukebox (a little Selena never hurt anyone) and then headed back to the Dis-bubble.  Sometimes trashy can be fun, but the crowd there was just too rough for that to happen.  It felt like a culture war was about to break out.  It was also one of the most racially segregated gay clubs I’ve ever been to.

 

Punta Cana was a last-minute thing, booked to check out a new property opening in Cap Cana, but also because prices were stupidly low.  Reason: American tourists still don’t seem comfortable about the coincidental string of deaths on the island last year, so tourism and spending are way down.  It’s tough seeing the Dominican struggle like this, but the best thing you can do right now is travel there, spend money and smile.

Cap Cana is a gated corner of Punta Cana, a little like a country club, making it tougher to get out of the tourist bubble and experience actual culture.  Taxis aren’t plentiful.  Uber has not made it past Santo Domingo.  You have to plan it out to leave, know how long you’ll be gone and have a plan to have someone pick you up to bring you back.  It’s a lot of work, but worth it if you want really delicious, authentic Dominican food and a chance to see how the locals live.

 

 

 

That said, it also made getting laid by a local near impossible, as they weren’t going to let someone not staying in Cap Cana through the gates.  Boo.  This sadly meant that if I was going to do anything other than compulsively jack off by myself, it was looking like my fellow guests were going to be the go-to choice.

I gave up on Grindr early on, as GPS wasn’t figuring me out.  It wasn’t until the third day in the resort’s gym that things got interesting.  Backstory: AC went out in the weights area, so I naturally took that as a perfect opportunity to strip off my tank top and lift shirtless.  The gym wasn’t seeing a lot of traffic, so I figured it wasn’t going to be an issue.  I was about twenty minutes into my set when two guys walked in and started working out.  Both totally not my type, but fuck…  When you gotta blow a load, sometime you’ve got to cast the net a little further.

Both were all-American looking white guys.  They looked like they could be brothers, but acted like boyfriends.  Sadly, they were that stereotypical gay couple who resembled each other.  Probably named ‘Tom’ or ‘Ryan.’  Something tells me they were a big hit at HRC luncheons.

The guys had decent builds, both runner-types.  Slim.  5’9ish. Same height. Both looked well-kept and in their mid-late thirties.  Good skin.  White teeth.  They could have been 1950s Colgate models or Mormon church lobbyists.

They immediately saw me.  Both guys zeroed in on me being shirtless and their eyes worked down to the compression gear hugging my bulge.

Pro tip: One of the first things I tend to do when I walk into a room is figure out if there are security cameras or devices that might be recording-  This gym was so new that they hadn’t put anything like that up yet.  The design of this gym was perfect for play, as it had one way in and out and a second exterior door that made enough noise to announce that someone was coming in.  Realizing all of this, I figured these two guys would be a nice way to christen this gym and to see how adventurous these two could be.

I finished up a shoulder set and laid down down on the bench to start chest.  By that point, my dick was rock solid and as soon as I laid down, these guys were well aware of where this was headed.   

I started to push out my first set.  Midway through, one of the Ryans grew some balls, came over and started rubbing my dick through the tights.  I was a little impressed with his gusto.  I’d never actually been in the act of lifting weights as I was getting jerked off and it hit all my hot buttons: Public play, gym gear and being watched by another guy.

When I put down my 60s, white guy number one pulled my dick out and started blowing me.  White guy two seemed too nervous about getting caught to enjoy any of this.  He kept fidgeting and looking around like a CSI: Salt Lake extra when he really should have been enjoying watching his boyfriend choke on a hot stranger’s cock.  I concentrated on the- excellent- blowjob, fully expecting to unload in this guy’s mouth before I was done, but white guy two kept killing the mood with his very verbal nervousness…  So much so, that white guy one ended up getting cold feet and they both ended up bolting.

 

Well, shit.  My balls were now a lovely shade of Ralph Lauren navy, but instead of bumming out over it, I decided to use the built up testosterone to have a killer workout. While I might not have been able to beat my meat, I was able to beat my best chest day weight by 20 lbs.  That’s what I’d call the slutty silver lining.

 

 

 

Next up, I plan on wrapping a Las Vegas visit and two weeks in Europe (including my first Viking ocean cruise experience).  I’m already a third of the way through a new blog, so I expect for it to go live sometime in mid-January.  Until then, you can always keep up with my travel shenanigans through Twitter and AskFM.  Also, if you’ve got a concern, a compliment, a naked photo or something you’d like for me to write about on future editions of 15MM, you can always email.  I get some of my best suggestions from those of you who write and really appreciate the time you take to give good feedback.  Simply put, you can’t keep a popular ongoing blog for over a decade by not listening to your readers.

 

My suggestion is to make sure you end 2019 and start 2020 with as much ho-ho-ho’ing as possible.

 

 

 

Here’s wishing all of you a safe, happy, horny holiday,

 

 

 

 

 

B