Hat Trick Of Sorts

(As a bit of an offset to the navel-gazing of the previous post...)

Speaking of "threes", I managed a bit of a "hat trick" of sorts this last Friday night: three orgasms in the span of 90 minutes or so. Considering I was just three days away from turning 40, and that I'm in terrible shape still, that's no mean feat.

I'd started the evening by hooking up with someone off of Craigslist. Went over to his place, and got a pretty decent BJ. Then, even though he had made it clear that he wasn't expecting reciprocation, I figured I could use more practice so I returned the favor. Thing is, I noticed that I had never really gone soft after my orgasm. He noticed this, too, and we ended by both jerking off. There was some hot porn on the TV, and it was generally just a pretty good scene overall.

Then I went home, and realized I was still about half-hard, so I figured why not try? I pulled up some favorite video clips from YouPorn (which I like because they give you download-links for the clips, so you can save your own copies of the ones you like the most). Next thing I know, I'm shooting a third time. I honestly can't remember the last time I was able to do that (maybe at the end of the "33 Days" experiment last year, I'm not sure).

I sure felt young again, I say that much!

-D

In Which I (Almost) Get My First Facial

Usual warning here: this post contains bi content. It is, in fact, almost 100% man-on-man. So if that takes you to the scary place, just move along and I'll try to put up some safe (hetero) content soon(-ish).

OK.

So, I haven't written in quite a while. It's hard to blog about sex that I'm not having. For reasons that I'll expound upon in a later entry, I'm not indulging in commercial sex these days, nor am I cruising Craigslist as often as I was earlier this year. But occasionally I do skim over the CL ads, and rarer still I'll send out an answer or two. Last Saturday was one such time.

I've been interested in exploring my bi side for the last few months. Part of the reason I haven't been doing the CL thing as much is that I'm actually more interested in finding someone I can do more with than just get blown. Even after the experiences I've had, I'm still surprised at how many people (at least on CL) are interested in giving head while not wanting any reciprocation. Well, don't get me wrong... I still love getting head. Love it love it love it. But, and I never thought I'd see the day when I am the one saying this, but: there's more to sex than just getting blown.

So Saturday, late, I saw and answered an ad. Someone fairly close to my age, close to my locale, who wanted to trade head. Had a picture of his erection, and it looked pretty suckable. I mean, when I say that I'm speaking from a vantage of only having had my mouth around a dick four times previously. Two of those were cross-dressers, and one was a pre-op transsexual (who was more hung than I am, while still being fully feminine in terms of facial features, skin, etc., and possessing an awesome rack... WTF is up with that?). So I get directions and head (heh heh) over.

Sorry, I can't start in with the sex part yet, because he was apparently more nervous than I was. His last email had said he'd be waiting for me while "watching movies". I figure I'll get there and there'll be some decent porn on. Nope. He's watching SpikeTV, and it's a lame cop-caper flick with Stephen Dorff and Natasha Henstridge. So we sit and watch for a bit. Play with his cat a bit. Finally, in an uncharacteristically-bold gesture, I chuckle (at least, I think it came out as a chuckle) and say that when he said he was watching movies, I thought he meant porn. He says he does have a couple of new pornos, but the only working DVD player is in the bedroom. Cool. Works on two levels.

We move on in, and he starts it up. Straight porn, of course. A M/F/M threesome with no M/M contact. He's into it, so we sit on the bed and watch. Scene ends, he skips over some fairly generic ones until he gets to another 3-way. Watch that a while. It starts to work on me, so I pull myself out and start stroking. I mean, someone clearly needs to take the initiative, here. He starts telling me how he got started down this sordid path of cock-suckery: apparently, he used to have a roommate who, when he'd stumble home drunk, would pressure this guy (JB) for head. Kept telling him how they'd take turns, it would feel great, etc. So eventually he gave in, and found that he did like it. I guess they don't room together, since JB has been forced to turn to CL to satisfy his shameful desires. I shouldn't be so snarky, but he did make it sound like he was practically seduced by the dark side of The Force into blowing his (ex-)roommate.

By this time, the scene on the DVD has switched again, now we're seeing a one-on-one with a cute Asian woman. I can tell he's about to skip it, but I mention I think she's cute, so he leaves it. Good call-- this scene has some fantastic close-ups of her working over her partner's erection with lips and tongue. Seriously boner-inspiring stuff. He says, "let me start on you." So we both strip, and I lay back. I watch the porn, he enacts the porn.

And he's pretty damn good.

He works me over really well, and he does a good job taking me pretty deep. Just recalling it now is getting me ready to go again. He changes angles a few times, and is expert at stopping before I get too gone, and letting me cool off before starting again. After a while, he has me stand up beside the bed, and he gets on his knees in front of me. This is fun, too. I look over at the TV, which is the only source of light in the room. We're right in front of it, so his face is bathed in the glow of porn. A new scene is on now (I got caught up in what he was doing and missed the ending of the Asian woman's scene), this one is a slender brunette. She looks a bit like the Twitter icon of a certain sexblogger I regularly read (and follow the Twitters of). So now I'm getting some really good head, and watching some really good head, and wondering if what I see on screen is anything like how she gives head, and then I realize that I'm having to bend my knees slightly to lower my pelvis to his face-level, and my thighs are starting to rebel. So we move back to the bed. Now, on the screen, the brunette is on the receiving end of some breath-play from her partner. Which also reminds me of that someone. I look from there, to the mouth that's actually on my dick, and that's all she wrote. Thank goodness for latex, because I didn't even have a chance to warn him that I was going to shoot. Even with head, I can have trouble coming with a condom on, but not this time. Woof.

He gets me a towel to clean up with, and I catch my breath (coming that much can be hard work!). Now, the moment of truth. I can count the number of times I've done this on one hand and still have a finger free to scratch an itch. And none of those times, have I actually brought the person off. I've had to come to the depressing conclusion that giving a blowjob is not an innate skill. And at present, I'm not very good at it. Made all the more frustrating because I am pretty damn good at going down on women, even if I do say so myself. But just like the way you get to Carnegie Hall, what I need is practice, practice, practice.

So I have him lay back, and I get down between his legs. Note to self: you've always been good about remembering to wash yourself really good before hook-ups, especially around the creases where pelvis meets the top of the leg. Now you know what it's like if you DON'T do that. But I'm strong-enough to soldier on. He was still at full-mast when I came, but the break we've taken has let a little air out of the tube.

Which is good, because, well, I did mention I'm still fairly new at this, right? I mean, he's not as big as me. Nor does he get to be, once he's fully erect. But I'm already having problems fitting it all in my mouth. And anyone who knows me says I can have a big mouth at times. Just clearly not at the times that count. But I'm trying. I'm also trying to do some fun things with my tongue along the underside of the shaft. It looks a lot easier in the porn videos. The women in those can take bigger dicks than this and STILL flutter their tongues along it as they go up and down. But boy, is this harder than it looks, pun intended. And the more I try to stretch my "depth", the closer I get to gagging myself.

So now, here's the score: I've been doing him for about 1/4 the time he spent on me. Already, I'm fighting the urge to purge in the back of my throat, and my eyes are watering from my attempts to take him deeper. I'm madly making sure I keep my teeth covered by lips, because I know how much I hate feeling teeth. On the plus side, he really seems to be enjoying himself. But I realize I'm going to have to resort to the trick I hate seeing done in porn: I'm going to have to use my hand on the shaft.

See, when I see this in porn, it feels like a cop-out. The woman seems as though she's less interested in giving pleasure than in just getting the guy off. She reverts to what is basically a handjob with her sucking on the tip. I'd rather see a more sincere blowjob that only goes halfway down the shaft. Now, however, I realize that there are hips on the other end of that shaft, and sometimes they "encourage" a deeper level of, shall we say, commitment. So now I'm using my hand, as well. And in my own defense, I am at least using my mouth on more than just the tip. Just... not as taking it as deep as I was before.

All this time, I can't help but think that I'm just not doing this very well. I mean, he seems to be enjoying it... he's moaning a lot and bucking plenty (hence the manual intervention). So I'm probably just being hard on myself (*snicker*). But what it boils down to is this: I know that if I were getting this exact blowjob, I'd be unimpressed.

Luckily, I'm not the one on the receiving end, and the one who IS on the receiving end must be enjoying it, because the next thing I know, I hear him say, "I'm coming!". Completely forgetting that there's a safe layer of latex in place, I draw back instinctively. And realize that had there not been a condom, I would have succeeded in not being given a mouthful, but I would have instead glazed myself like a Krispy Kreme gone very, very bad. This guy must have been saving it up for a week or more, because I could swear the condom's tip more than tripled in size. Might just have been my vantage point, I suppose.

At that point, it was really late. Like, 5AM late. So we said good-bye as I found my own way to the door and he hit the shower. But at least I can say that I've made a man come with my mouth. And maybe someone of you reading this can remember far-enough back in your own sexual histories, to remember when you too might have considered that an accomplishment.

I'm still hoping to find a nice, smooth very-femme twink who'll let me explore more in-depth than I have thus far, but this was a good time. And when I got home, I slept the sleep of the satisfied.

Dausa

In Which I Learn I Was a Selfish Lout

Since the end of the "33 Days" experiment, I haven't really been getting out much, let along getting much. Part of it was due to my depression kicking in, part of it just from lack of time (and energy) to pursue things. But I did see the TV a couple more times. This was the person that I first saw back when I did my so-called "Craigslist Experiment". In fact, she had placed an ad I answered, she wasn't someone answering the ad I had placed. She also was amazing to fool around with, so after I got past the 33 days, and after I started getting my shit together again, I saw her a couple of times.

Then, a few weeks ago, she stopped replying or calling me.

Mind you, it's not as though she always jumped every time I replied to her. Some nights, I imagine someone else got there first. But for several ads in a row, I heard nothing. Then, earlier this week, she replied.

In the reply (which I didn't save, so I can quote verbatim), she said she was a little hurt by the fact that the last time or two I'd been over, I basically got my rocks off and split, with barely even any chit-chat. And she was right-- I had done exactly that. Of course, I hadn't really thought about it until she said something, and since then I've been kicking myself for it. I don't want to be that kind of person, so it sucks to learn that I was doing so despite my best efforts. Not only that, but it cost me an otherwise very fun, very accommodating play-partner.

Now, in my defense, her ads generally had the gist of, "Come use me as a cock-slut, this is what I like." I'm not playing blame-the-victim, here. The person very much likes the submissive role, and emphasizes this in her ads. In fact, she has on up right now:

Last night was beyond dead. Hopefully tonight I will encounter all kinds of dick in desperate need of my special oral attention. I serve as a hot Latina crossdresser ( very passable ) and always hot for a good piece of dick! Requirements for you this evening are simply this, you must be available to travel to XXXXXXXXX ( don't ask me to come to you! ), you must be clean in decent shape and know how to serve that tool between your legs ( size is not an issue but how you use it )and last you must foward a photo with a brief description of yourself and your sexual needs for this evening.

And that ad is actually quite tame compared to most of them. It was all very confusing for someone who doesn't pick up on social cues very well. The ads seemed to stress one thing, and yet she complained about something else. But in the end, it comes down to me not being very considerate, and that sucks. I don't know if I'll see her again or not. But if I don't, it's my loss more than hers.

Dausa

33 Days, 33 Posts: Epilogue - What I Have (Not) Learned

Well. Here I am. I didn't get around to writing this yesterday. Unfortunately, it wasn't because I was going buck-wild but rather because I'm suffering from a pinched nerve that makes it really hard to sleep, and thus am not as well-rested as I should be.

I'm not really sure that I learned anything from this. At least, not anything constructive or useful. Certainly I can do This Thing where I don't orgasm for some set period of time. But hey, I just turned 39. That's not the news story it was 20 years ago. I certainly learned that it doesn't diminish the amount I think about sex. Predictably-enough, it boosted it pretty heavily. If anything, I learned that I'm prone to self-sabotage in a big, big way. If I weren't reporting in daily, I never would have made it a week.

Of course, I went out and got laid. I made a valiant effort to pick someone up through Craigslist, but it didn't pan out. Instead, I went to a provider I'd seen before, one that I knew I could count on for a good session. It wasn't the mind-blowing experience I'd had the first time with her (first times are always more exciting, I guess), but it was worth the expenditure. And boy did I spend... she was clearly impressed with the forcefulness of my orgasm, and the quantity of DNA left behind. I also squeezed out a couple on my own, later. I had tried to find something late-night on CL, but no dice. Not to worry, I'm still one of my best lovers.

Unfortunately, without this driving my posting, I fear I may drop off drastically again, and I don't want that. But there is so little new in my life, I'm going to eventually run out of past experiences to mine. Oh well, I'll burn that bridge once I've crossed it. I have some stuff I can still draw upon that should hopefully entertain, at least over the next few days.

-D

33 Days, 33 Posts: Day 31 - So Close, So Far

I'm in a weird state (and I ain't just talkin' about California! *rimshot*). Weird dualities-- I'm keenly-focused on how badly I want to rip my jeans off and wank myself until there are no more juices left to come out, yet at the same time I feel no need to do so. I'm anxious to cruise Craigslist and find a man or a TV or any consenting human to suck me until only dust remains, but I'm supremely confident that I'll manage through the next two days.

(And to clarify, I meant 33 complete days. That means lasting until past midnight on the 2nd. Or more specifically, making it until the 3rd, my birthday.)

I'm giving a lot of thought to how I want to deal with Saturday. I was chatting with one of my favorite bloggers this afternoon, who seemed to think I shouldn't go immediately for the commercial route, that I should try pulling. Well and good, but I don't have the confidence in my chances for success. Believe it or not, I'm cripplingly shy in person. I'm crap at being suave in bars, because I'm crap being suave anywhere. It doesn't help that I have more self-esteem issues around weight (I'm not obese, but I'm big-enough to put a lot of women off), and while I am currently losing weight at a steady pace, I'm not going to be Brad Pitt by Saturday. Hell, I'm not even going to be Paul Giamatti by then. (Though at least I'm a lot taller than he is.) So while I obviously don't have to choose a course of action right this minute, come Saturday (heh heh heh... I said "come") I'll have to decide. Because I don't want my first release to be of the manual-override variety. I'll have plenty of time for that, later. (And to my chat-partner, I haven't forgotten my promise of before-and-after pictures!)

I don't have any real issues of guilt or regret over commercial sex, like I did at first. I try very hard to see people who at least appear to be self-representing, that aren't being controlled by a pimp or exploited in an Asian massage-parlor setting. So guilt isn't the issue. More like longevity, on two levels: on the more base level, I may want more than just an hour. I've got a lot of fluid to move. On the more enlightened level, there's always that one-in-a-hundred chance that I might hit it off really well with the pick-up. It's happened to me before, after all. One thing that's certain: that first orgasm is going to involve another person.

-D

33 Days, 33 Posts: Day 3 - Oh, It's Hard All Right

Actually, right this minute it's only about half-hard. Fleshbot presented another "take that, Dausa" moment with today's video. I don't want to wonder about the necessary mechanics of filming hardcore sex underwater, but her hair looks devastatingly sexy, flowing around her face like it does.

I came so very close to giving in. It's still way too early in this effort to crack so easily. Several enticing possibilities on the Craigslist m4m casual encounters forum. Multiple opportunities to go to someone's location, unzip, be blown, and leave without any pesky details. But that's the kind of reckless, emotionally-empty encounters I'm trying to break myself from.

It's Wednesday, known in our little sub-culture as Cock-Blogging Wednesday. So, I'm going to think about my friend a little bit, just to assure myself that this isn't about any self-loathing or anything.

The Girl has a survey she put together, asking men to make some honest judgments about how they regard their tackle. One thing I couldn't help but notice, some of her questions lack neutral answers. She asks if you (the reader) think that smaller is better or bigger. Then, asks whether you think women prefer smaller or larger. But neither question gives you an option of saying neither (other than just not ticking any of those boxes). No way to say that you think women (or at least, most of the women you've interacted with) are less concerned with size (big or small) than with skill (or lack thereof). She asks if you are happy with your own size, and if given the chance would you have a larger cock.

Well, I'm pretty damn happy with my little friend. I don't think I'd want mine much bigger, as all of my partners have been plenty happy with what I had to offer. And many of them have had lovers larger than myself (some significantly larger, in fact... at least one person has had two or more that were honestly 12" or more). And if there is anything I've prided myself on more than being an attentive lover, it's that I've managed to foster relationships where I could have these sorts of conversations in honesty. Even now, as I struggle to take this month-long break from orgasms, there's little I'd change about my dick. If anything, I'd opt to be a show-er rather than a grow-er. Neither I nor anyone I've dated has every seen a dick with such a range in growth. When soft, it's smaller than my thumb. If you see me in a completely deflated state, it's pretty unflattering. But once it grows, well, most people forget any misgivings they may have had. But first impressions do count for a lot. When I see dicks like the one Bad Bad Girl shows a picture of in this column, I can't help but be jealous a little bit. I don't have a semi-hard state like that-- for me it's either thumb-dick or billy-club. Maybe that's an erection shot... it looks more like semi-hard to me, but it could be fully-hard. Still, I wouldn't trade my cock for anyone else's, not even a porn stars. Mine makes my partners (when I have them) happy. And, more to the point, it makes me happy.

(Well, when I'm not trying to make a point to myself.)

Dausa

33 Days, 33 Posts: Day 2 - OK, This Is In Fact Going to be Tough

Oh boy. I was hasty in being so flippant yesterday. Today was a whole different story. Not even 48 hours since the last time I wanked, and I was almost ready to say to hell with it. I can't do that-- give up in just two days. Twelve, maybe, or even twenty. But not just two. My own fault... I meant to go and get at least a blowjob on Sunday, before embarking on this, so that I had the memory to rest on. But I didn't, I jerked off instead, and that wasn't nearly as satisfying.

And today's trials are my own fault, of course. I was killing time on Craigslist while some long-running tasks did their thing. First mistake. This is pretty much the equivalent of being on a crash-diet and going to window-shop at a gourmet foods store. So, yeah, it's pretty dumb of me. After about 20 minutes, I had a vicious boner. It was a good time to break for lunch. After a little time away from the computer, I was OK again.

Then, a few hours later, I was looking at Fleshbot (I know, I know), and saw this.

Oh. Wow.

Just watched it again, right now, in fact. It brings back memories... I've had sessions similar to that when I've been to a massage parlor in the past. Not with oil, though, usually just skin-on-skin. And that was clearly staged, unless the customer himself had arranged for the session to be taped (i.e., it's obviously not a hidden-camera video). But that woman, oh wow. So cute, and those glasses? Icing on the cake. I was (and am again) straining against my jeans so hard just moving around in my chair was tantamount to masturbation. And another 31 days yet, to go. I'm going to be a basket case.

In other news, I'm taking advantage of the extra time spent with Blogger to go back and tag my old articles. I hope to get a tag-cloud incorporated into the layout at some point, though I suspect I'll have to convert to the new-style layout engine to get it.

Oh, and this is, I believe, my 100^th post. Yay for me!

-D

33 Days, 33 Posts: Day 1 - It's Always Easy At First

OK, obviously things are going to look easy after just the one day.

Of course, I did catch myself casually browsing over Craigslist.

Also, I may need an additional rule/exception: I all but forgot that there is someone I'd already promised to make a coffee-date with this week. It wouldn't exactly be fair to just blow her off, would it? Besides, I don't think I'm likely to click with this one anyway. But that's no excuse for leaving her hanging.

-D

Not So Sure Anymore...

...that I made the right choice in coming back to California.

It's taken only a few weeks to lose all the positive momentum I had after I got my new place. A little longer after that and I was back to old patterns and habits. Not just the cruising-on-Craigslist, but also indulging in commercial providers. Which I've been forcing myself to abstain from for simple reason of budget. But still, I look and consider.

My friend back in Denver pointed out that even if I'd taken the job in London, I might very well be just as depressed there as I am here, maybe even for similar reasons. But last night, laying awake trying to fall asleep, something dawned on me: at least, had I gone to London, I could say that I did something. I tried, I took steps to make a major change in my life. It might not have worked out like I thought it would, but at least I would have had the assurance of having tried. Instead, I look around my apartment, around the bay area, and think to myself: "Didn't get far, did you? Moved 8 miles, into a smaller apartment. Well played."

Saturday night, I went up to San Francisco for Perverts Put Out. As used to be the case, convincing myself to dress nicely and leave the apartment was akin to pulling teeth. The event was stunning; I'll need to do a separate post just about it alone. Of course, once there, I was enjoying myself. But eventually it was over, and I had another Saturday night to go home alone. It was so tempting to go somewhere cruise-y like Blow Buddies or Divas. But I'd spent all the persuasion I could muster just getting myself out of the house. It was the first time I've been back to SF since moving back here last month (actually, the second-- the actual first was for the memorial service for a friend's mother, thus my mind was otherwise occupied that afternoon).

I haven't made any effort to revisit my "Craigslist experiment". There's a lot to be said for quick, no-strings gratification. But just because I'm an addict doesn't mean I don't feel any emotional needs or impulses (the lack of emotional expression comes from the Asperger's, not the addictive nature). OK, that was a weak joke. I don't intuitively form those sorts of connections like others do, but I still crave them. And the CL route was just teasing the appetite, not appeasing it. To make matters worse, there's fuck-all to choose from in terms of independent video stores in my general area (that is to say, those that are not Blockbuster or Hollywood Video). So I don't even have the kind of access to porn I had at the previous address.

(On the plus side, it was around this time last year that I broke my foot, so living a live free of crutches is worth being thankful for. I'm just already dreading the steady march towards Valentine's Day, and my recent attempts at dating haven't panned out very well.)

-D

Men Are Sluts: My Own Craigslist "Experiment"

So, as I alluded to in a previous post, I'm really in awe of how slutty men are, in general. Now, don't go sending me condescending e-mails that mostly say "DUH!". I didn't say I was surprised, just in awe. Likewise, I understand that politicians on the whole are corrupt and money-driven; I'm still entitled to be in awe of the sheer hubris of people like Tom Delay.

But back to my point: the sluttiness of the male. And not just your garden-variety male, but gay and bi men in particular. See, I learned a valuable lesson a long time ago: if I'm really jonesing for a blowjob, there are plenty of gay/bi men (possibly closeted) who are more than happy to oblige.

Actually, I learned two lessons. The above, and just as importantly, that even though I am somewhat heavy-set and fairly hairy, that's not the detriment with men that it often is with women. Indeed, it can be a bonus! There's a whole sub-culture within gaydom devoted to my body-type: the bear. And there are plenty of self-identified "bear chasers" out there. So, while I'm still trying to lose weight for simple health and self-image reasons, it's not getting in the way in the meantime.

Thursday, I placed an ad on the m4m part of the casual encounters section of Craigslist in the south bay area. It was simple, and to the point: tall bear wants a no-strings-attached blowjob. Honest description of my body, and vague reference to what area I lived in.

I had responses literally within minutes of the ad being posted.

That day, I had three encounters, though to be fair the third was from an ad that I had answered, to go fool around with a tranny (more on that in a later musing). I referred briefly to the two ad-related encounters in an earlier message-- one was mind-blowing, the other disappointing. The latter was disappointing because I hadn't bothered to get a picture of the person first, and he turned out to be a much older man. Having just come my brains out a few hours earlier, it was going to be a feat to perform again so soon (I'm not as young as I used to be, and letting my health go has had other undesired effects). Unfortunately, I really couldn't. Started out OK, but it just wasn't there (even when I broke my own rules and tried to picture straight porn, or even the earlier experience, in my head).

But the first guy? Woo hoo. Younger, clean-cut, and a pierced tongue. I'm such a sucker for piercings. And boy could he use it. He worked me over from tip to taint for a good 20 minutes or more. If we didn't both have places we had to get to, we might still be at it still. I've never been with someone so adept at sensing when I was about to pop and backing off before I passed the point of no return. I can't even describe the sensations in most of the cases, but it may actually be the single best BJ I've ever had. And I've had a lot, let me tell ya. I might go see this one again, if he's amenable.

Mind you, replies continued to come in. I was going to see one person on Friday, someone who actually was hoping for more out of the encounter-- cuddling, etc. I'm not necessarily opposed to that, but it wasn't what I was looking for at the moment, so he got filed away for later. Several got deleted outright; I know it's happened to me plenty of times when I've answered ads, so I don't feel any guilt over it. I saw another one on Saturday. Also older, also less attractive, but almost as good as the guy on Thursday so what he lacked in eye-appeal he made up for with sleight-of-tongue.

Counting him, the one that fizzled, and the TV, that's four encounters in three days. So understand that when I call men sluts, I'm well aware that I'm just as guilty. I guess what shocks me is that the the sluttiness is so highly concentrated, so tightly focused. The gay bathhouse scene was a notable part of the early rapid spread of HIV in the 80's. The clubs I've gone to over the years have had strict latex rules, but only because of the damage already done; back then condoms were considered only for preventing pregnancy and thus were hardly necessary between two men. What I'm saying is, this goes back decades. I wonder sometimes if even Oscar Wilde wouldn't be a more than a little shocked at what goes on these days in the world of gay men.

Here's the rub: not all of the men cruising these ads would identify as gay or bi, even in private, even in the confidence of a therapist's office. They just don't see themselves as such. And the men who are, they know and understand this, too. Watch for ads calling for "str8" (straight) dick to suck. For some of the suck-ers, the straight-ness of the suck-ee is just as thrilling a novelty as the thought of having a guy on his dick instead of a girl is for the suck-ee. And all because we men are basically sluts, and when it comes to coming, we'll do just about anything to do so (especially if we're pretty sure we won't get caught).

You just don't hear about things like this in the world of women, regardless of orientation. I mean, I've had female friends who went through self-identified "slutty phases". One friend occasionally posts to CL casual encounters in her geographical area (and don't even bother asking me because I'm not telling). Posts looking for men, and always gets upward of 200 replies. And she's a big girl, honest and upfront about it in her post. Gives her height and her weight, so that they can't claim to be surprised when/if they meet her. Still rakes in the replies. Some of the men are bonafide "chubby chasers", but most are just so intent on fucking that they'll hook up with someone they wouldn't otherwise acknowledge on the street. But she's the exception; I'd wager that 98% or more of traffic on the "w4m" part of casual encounters these days is either commercial spam or photo-phishing (scammers collecting photos that they can then use to create false accounts and/or post false ads elsewhere, where a photo would be needed).

And if there is even 2% that's legit, in my area, either I haven't responded to them or I wasn't to their liking. Because I'm just as bad as the rest, and frequently answer women's ads in the hope of one day finding that rare gem, a real woman who'll fuck me to the point of oblivion then dress and leave. No questions asked.

(Of course, it helps that I figure any photos of me are already in the hands of all the phishers, so I have little to lose.)

Dausa

Men Are Sluts: Prologue

Before I get to the longer post tomorrow or over the weekend, let me reflect and ruminate on us men.

God, we're sluts.

I mean, it's no secret that if you're a woman, and you want to get laid right now, hop on over to Craigslist and post an ad. You'll have literally hundreds of responses in an hour, usually less. Even if you don't consider yourself attractive, there are men who will find your body-type attractive. More to the point, there are men who will simply find the fact that you are in possession of a vagina attractive.

If you're a man and straight, however, it's a different story. Lotsa luck, write and let us know when you find work.

But, if you're gay, or bi, or just unconcerned when it comes to getting sucked off, you have another option. Post in the men-for-men forum. You won't get hundreds, but you'll get replies. Why? Why else? Men are total sluts when it comes to this. This is obvious not just from the replies, but from the number of straight men who do actually go this route, and consider themselves straight all the same. They know the score.

As for me? I do identify is at least somewhat bi. I'm not a 3 on the Kinsey Scale by any stretch. More like fluctuating between φ and e on the scale, as my mood moves me. And when I turn down that road for gratification, I'm not pretending that it's a woman with a remarkably flat chest. I don't "prime" myself with straight porn and then keep my eyes squeezed shut. But I do sometimes think of Margaret Cho, when she said (something to the effect of), "I used to think I was bisexual, but then I realized I'm just slutty." I have a more-than-passing interest in this, and I think in 2007 I'll be writing a little more about that.

But my point is, if you want your dick sucked and fast and don't care if it's a guy doing the sucking, craigslist is your friend. And that is how I happened to be blown not once but twice today. One only so-so and one that was fucking amazing. But the details of that are for my upcoming post...

-D

Against All Odds...

...Craigslist might be instrumental in my getting out for New Year's Eve, and possibly even getting some, as well. Having just moved the rest of my shit from Denver back here to the bay area, I had almost written NYE off.

If it works out, I promise details!

Edit: Nope. Shoulda' known better than to get my hopes up!