More Brazilian Boning

Yesterday I decided to work from home. I live in a very residential/planned community; kinda like Naples, Long Beach or Lago Maggiore, Coral Gables. So, while it's a kick-ass place to wake up to in the morning, and quiet place to get work done, there's not a lot in the way of crowds or travelers. The one exception is a small hotel catering to an office park walking distance from my house. I got a call in the morning from Lumberjack (who I haven't seen in months) and he offered to come by my place during lunch. I conveniently got to fuck his sweet ass (hasn't changed) before returning to my work (he had to leave soon after as well so it worked out). By the time I had finished my projects, it was already 9:30pm, and the long-ranger was getting restless again. I knew my chances of hooking up that evening weren't that good--but I went online anyway. As fate would have it, I started chatting with a dark-skinned guy visiting from NYC. His pic was pretty random and he didn't have a face pic with it. But the cool and rare thing about it was that he was staying at that hotel I mentioned (never hooked up with anyone staying there since it's very business-oriented). So, I thought since I could walk there, I'd take the chance that this guy was butt-ugly.

I got there and the guy looked like a poor-man's Alfonso Ribeira, but definitely in his mid-20's. He was wearing a towel, which I quickly took off to see the goods. Not surprisingly the pic he sent out was NOT him--this guy was about 10 lbs heavier, different body-type altogether, and this guy was only about 7" cut whereas the guy in the pic was shall we way, much lengthier. This guy also had a weird accent I couldn't place, so I asked him where he was from, and of course he said "New York". "yeah, but where were you born?" I asked, and he said, "Brazil". Without hesitation, I continued in Portuguese, "OK. Get on the bed. Put you're knees here and your ass up". He complied and the good part was he had a HUGE round, firm ass. He had a little of the negro-funk in the trunk, but it was tolerable, so I burried my face in his ass like a dog in a supperdish till his hole was nice and ready. At that point I had suited up and started to slide my cock in his tight but pliant hole. It took a couple tries to get my hole cock in, and once it was in I just started pounding him (no thought to it, and no mercy). I eventually flipped him over and was doing him missionary. I was going at it pretty hard and happened to catch a glance at his face; he stared at me with his brow furrowed in what look like annoyance. I didn't care, and thought this would be a good time to finish up, which I did and pounded a load out. As I pulled out, I noticed by his wet-spot on his belly I had hit a bull's eye. But just from the vibe I was getting I didn't really care, so I just went to wash up.

When I got out, he was still lying on the bed and hadn't moved. Against my better judgement, I asked, "are you OK?" He responded almost in monotone, "that's not the way I like to have sex." "What do you mean?" I was morbidly interested. He continued, "You have a big dick (*he used the word "pimboca" which I HATE*) but all you did was fuck me with it and didn't do anything else." I was in a serious state of "pshhhh, whatever" and said, "well, you came without even touching yourself, so I guess my dick did what it was supposed to." He didn't respond, and I had my clothes on by now so I said, "You sent me someone else's pic who is in much better shape. Believe me, if I were with THAT guy, I'd have done a LOT more." Then I left the hotel and walked home. This was yet another experience which confirms my opinion about Brazilians; They are NOT all good looking, they do not all have big dicks, but they are ALL full of drama.

The next morning I had a lot of errands and family stuff to do, culminating in me impulse-buying a large and expensive piece of furniture (but seriously, it looks GREAT, no regrets). The day went by too fast, which tends to happen when corraled by relatives unfortunately (especially now that I'm working). But this evening, I finally got to hook up with a guy I'd been talking to online for months. He's a very good looking white guy with a black-guy's ass (his words, and I agree).


He's originally from the mid-west and had a very reserved demeanor in bed, but definitely took my fucking like a champ. He said, "that's probably the most agressive I've ever had it in bed." I smirked and asked, "was that a good thing?" He smiled back, "it was great. you know what you're doing." Just as I was getting my hopes up, he started to dress and said, "well, I'm kinda sorta getting into a relationship with someone right now. I don't know where it's going exactly. I guess that's why I came over tonite." Another "pshhh, whatever" moment. But I didn't let it show and said, "well, then you'll have to call me, cuz I won't call you." He responded, "fair enough. but don't stop talking to me online or anything." I smiled as I walked him out. Yup, too good to be true there. But at least the balls are dry.

Melrose Gym

I am undeniably and completely PISSED-OFF as I write this. In fact, I am so incredibly mad that the only way I can properly express myself is through lymrick...ahem:
There once was a sickening troll,
Whose antics were quite far from droll.
Though he lurked in the shower,
His dick had no power
But, BOY, what an asshole!

I realize to some of you I may have a disproportionate amount of posts about trolls in general and at the gym in particular. But today was one for the books. After a NICE workout (stacked more weights than ever before) I felt cocky and preened in front of the mirror in the locker-room for a few. In walks a late 20-something Mexican dude I'd fucked twice before (he usually works out days so I haven't seen him in a long time). He liked what he saw and smiled at me, then went into the showers. Following him was the #1 troll I had talked about before, but I was undaunted. I got into a towel, met the guy in the last shower and fucked him short and sweet, though I knew the troll was just in the stall across from us. OK, luckily I finished up before he steppped out, so I showered up and went to change. I got back into my gym clothes since I didn't feel like putting my work clothes back on and suddenly the Greek kid I've been fucking comes over to me in a towel with a smile. Even though I generally don't like to make eye-contact, let alone have a conversation in the locker room, I humored him, since we spoke Spanish and at least I knew not everyone would be listening.

Greek - "Hey"
Me - "Hey"
Greek - "Were you just in the shower?"
Me - "Yeah. Worked out earlier. Now I'm going home."
Greek - "Oh...I just spoke to that guy who's always here. He said he just saw you having sex with another guy in the shower just now."
Me - "Dude, you shouldn't talk to that loser."
Greek - "Well, he came up to me. He asked if we were together and I said no. Then he said, 'oh, because I saw you two last time and I just saw him with another guy in the shower'."
Me - (scoffing) "Anyway. That dude makes me sick. You shouldn't talk to him. Good to see you though. Enjoy your workout."

And with that I went back to my locker to change. OK, normally, I'm a pretty cool guy with my clothes on. But when I'm in cruising mode, yes, I can be a major dick, especially to trolls who mess things up for the rest of us. So, yeah, I acknowledge I have been a dick to this guy, and I am also completely aware that he deserved every bit of it. And this was his way of getting back at me; by letting the Greek kid know he's not the only hole I've been inside at that gym, which thanks to the troll is now being turned into Melrose Place (fucking asshole!). THIS is why I don't talk to people there-- life is just to full of fucking gossipy queens. And fuck the Greek kid for even listening and talking to that troll. If I don't have sex with the Greek kid again, then so be it. I'm just majorly pissed right now (if you couldn't tell). A bit angrier and I'd have written this whole post in iambic pentameter.

Wearing out a bottom

There's a dude I've fucked a few times over the years; Guatemalan, buffed, early 30's, kinda thuggish face. But nothing to write home about as far as sex because he's one of those "race to the finish" kinda guys; meaning as soon as my dick is inside him he's jerking his dick to cum as soon as he can. The last time we had sex was about 5 months ago, and I told him I was unimpressed because like a dog, I want to take my time. He's been hitting me up like crazy, so this last Friday I consented, saying the condition was that he gave me 1 hour to use his ass any way I wanted--no questions asked (and this included getting some pics of it for my loyal viewers : ). When I got to his room, there was porn on his wide screen and on his laptop...whatever. I was more into what his mouth and hole had in store. I bent him over his chair, took some pics, mounted him and gave it to him from behind for a good 10 minutes. I did it like this so he'd have to hold the chair to stay upright and not be able to touch his dick. After awhile, he pushed me out of him and said his stomach was feeling weird and that he needed to use the bathroom. I rolled my eyes and said, "Sure. go for it," and with that he was gone for about 10 minutes while I was left with my stiff dick surrounded by porn. He finally came back out and said, "I don't think this is gonna happen." I got behind him and said, this will take less than a minute," and I plunged my stiff cock into his butt-hole, humped him for about 20 seconds and shot my load. After that I went to clean up and dress; he was very apologetic and said "next time, I promise we'll have more time and I'll prepare." I was like, "yeah, yeah." Heard it.


The next day I made plans with some friends to go to the Exploratorium in SF. An odd thing to do for adults, but still, it was fun in a second-childhood kind of way. After we had finished the tour and gotten a thorough refresher on how sound-waves work (moreso from the screaming kids than the actual exhibits) most of the crowd wanted to go to a pub in the Marina district. Since I don't drink much (and I can only handle so much of that particular crowd for so long) my friend and I decided to leave them and head to get some ice-cream at a place that we'd both heard of but never been. The ice-cream there was EXCELLENT (it was actually gelato) and came in very exotic flavors--including Durian. Since my friend had never tasted Durian (I had and since everyone has their own description, I'll add mine: a mix of garlic and sweaty socks) I convinced her to try a spoonfull of it with me. She didn't enjoy it at all (neither did I), but we had fun and it's now something she can say she's done.



After I drove her back to her car, she took off, leaving me to wonder if I should stick around in SF to get some boning done. I thought I'd give it the college try and started calling from my "black book", but with no luck. I also made tentative plans to see my former friend, DJ as we were now talking again on facebook, so I decided to follow through and meet him at his place. To my disappointment, life had not treated this boy well, dispite all the posts and news to the contrary he'd been telling the world. He was essentially living in section 8 housing in a flea-bag hotel; all the occupants were ho's, recovering crack-addicts, or crack-addicts...and unfortunately DJ embodied all 3. When I got to the hotel (I had to sign in and show ID to go to see him) we said casual hello's, but I could tell he was in a mood. After 3 minutes of really insignificant small-talk, he mentioned he had a friend coming over with some crack to smoke. I didn't want to be around or have anything to do with it, and I think he saw it in my eyes and said, "want to go for a walk? I have to take the dog out." So, we ventured out of Crack-central down to the corner of Crack and Ho, where DJ got some cheap food at a convenience store. We exchanged some words along the way, but he was essentially dead inside. Nothing could or will bring him back. When we got back to his place, I told him I'd need to take off, and we shook hands. DJ, you were dealt a bad hand in life, but you had so many chances to walk away a winner. And Sven, regarding what I told you earlier: ABORT! ABORT! STAND DOWN!!!



After my encounter with DJ, I thought I definitely needed to get the adrenaline pumping, so I went to the gym. After a NICE workout, I hit the showers and steamroom, where it took less than five minutes to get hit on by a lanky-toned black guy with a shaved head (after I sat down, he sat down right on the bench under me and then turned his head to face my cock). I let him suck me for awhile, then lifted him off and said, "I want to fuck. Is your ass up for it?" His eyes widened and he responded, "yeah. where?" I motioned him to follow me to the end of the showers (I should have a prison tally-system somewhere in there by now). He was a bit cautious at first, but finally let me get inside him and just pump his butt as hard, fast, rythmic and finally animalistic as I wanted. His hole really gripped my dick, especially when he knew I was ready to cum to give me that extra suction. Nice guy.



This leads me to today, Sunday, where I spent the day with assorted family members from out-of-town (luckily not staying with me this time). This evening I did get a guy in his early 40's with a TOTALLY kick-ass buffed body and white muscular bubble-butt ass to come over. His face was nice for his age, but he totally spoiled the mood after he came in and said, "I just found some "G" in my car that I thought I'd lost a few months ago. Are you into "G"?" I shook my head flattly and said, "nah man. I don't think this is gonna work out" and then as if to appease me, he dropped to his knees and started sucking my cock through my sweatpants saying, "No problem. Not a problem." I was thinking, he was a loser, but hey, I REALLY wanted to fuck that ass, so I let him go ahead and proceed. Long story short, he was a great fuck, but he didn't cum (like I care) because it turns out he was already stoned (loser). And just as a point of irony, this "G"-guzzling stoner is a professor of ethics, comparative religion and history at a local University here. So, Mom's and Dad's; if you were ever wondering where your children's tuition money is going, now you know. Anyway, I got what I wanted, so the long ranger was happy and I could now look forward to another lucrative yet tedious workweek to come.

A Bird in the Hand

Due to my "new" work schedule, I'm lucky if I get laid once during the week (for lack of time, energy, availability of bottoms etc). Because of this, I've been noticing that when an opportunity comes up from a bad-to-mediocre bottom that I normally wouldn't do a repeat with, during the week I'm more likely just to shrug, "eh...?" and let him come over just to get a quick load off. That's what happened last Tuesday; when I got online, I was hit up by what looked like a very hot 20-something Latin dude staying at a hotel near the airport (10 mins from me) who was into everything I wanted. The only sketchy thing was his face pic was blurred and he said he didn't have any others. OK, I've been around the block, and know that the probability here is 70% he's a lot older or uglier than when said pic was taken, 20% he's really hot but doesn't want his face pic visible/recognizable to others on the internet, and 10% that he is genuine and just took a bad/blurry picture. Regardless, at the same time got hit up by a pudgy, 30-something guy who I had fucked before--nothing to look at or write home about, but a firm-round bubble-butt to fuck. So, I went with door number 2 (back-door number 2 to be precise) simply because a) I didn't have to drive anywhere as this dude knew he was going to Disneyland and would drive to ME and b) it eliminated the guess-work and surprise of seeing who the blurry face-pic belonged to.

This trend in settling for the "bird in the hand" as well as my overall work-week means I have found myself counting the minutes until the weekends, knowing that I'll be able to catch-up on all my "quality" boning (or should be able to, at least). This Saturday however I had made a commitment to my aunt to help her move into her new place. I had made tentative plans with about 4 guys who called me throughout the day, telling them I was hoping to finish up around 8--that was absolutely wishful thinking. My aunt is about 15 years older than me and one of the most generous, supportive and genuine people you'll ever meet. She was somewhat of a rebel/hippie growing up so she has no pretense and finally became a very successful psychologist (I'm sure some of you can see where this is going now). Oddly, as she has aged she has become more and more old-world in mentality and demeanor specifically with people in service-oriented jobs. She sees and treats anyone from waiters to movers as "the help", meaning she is very demanding, shrill, and at times just plain unreasonable (see: raving bitch) and wants to ensure herself and everyone else around that she is not going to be taken advantage of in any way. This is exactly what happened during the move, and I essentially had to play mediator between the movers (who showed up late, worked very slowly and were careless in their prep-work) and my aunt (who constantly nagged, hovered, and started off every other question with "why didn't you guys...?" at very inappropriate times) to the point where at two times the movers were ready to dump everything out of the truck and leave. Both times I was able to difuse the situation, but the bickering between parties slowed down the process such that we finally finished around 11pm, and my Aunt kindly thanked the movers and gave them each a very big tip for "putting up with her".

Needless to say, I was not really in the mood for boning by the time I got home. And although I did make a half-hearted attempt to reach out to my bottoms to tell them I had gotten home, none of them were available at this hour either, so I just took some Alieve for my back pain and went to bed. Today (Sunday) I knew I'd need to get to the gym at some point, but the long-ranger was definitely telling me he needed to be taken out for a ride. Soon after I got up, I went online and was contacted by about 3 other guys (all Asian). I settled on one who seemed to be the most willing and accessible (yup, THAT was my criteria which is sounding more and more pathetic). When he came over, I was surprised that he had already been over a few times a couple years back, but I had decided the last time would be it. He's tall (about 6ft) but muscularly defined with a very jockish demeanor (no accent, very American). His issues were that he always liked it rough and blindfolded- no exceptions, which I got tired of. This time he came over with no mention of the blindfold (had he mentitoned it in our emails/msgs I would have immediately remembered it was him). I didn't take these pics, but they are his from his profile.

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and took him to my boning-lair. I got behind him, pulled down his pants and bent him over to expose his smooth hole and started tongue-fucking it to get it wet. I was pretty rough with him, since I knew he liked it, and just suited up and shoved the long-ranger in his hole faster and harder than I would any "normal" fuck-bud. He bucked and pleaded, but I didn't stop pumping him from behind with a strong grip on his hips to brace my thrusts. He never told me to stop, just whined and took it. I finally flipped him over to fuck him missionary, and jammed my cock back in him, making my dick throb and grow while holding his legs up and applying steady pressure. Finally, I got the "pop" of his inner ring opening and he ghasped and moaned saying, "that last inch! it feels so good!" I savored that place, it's like a special glove for my dick-head and just moved my dick slightly in and out just to feel its tightness. I LOVE THAT! And this dude usually is just into getting abused and humiliated, but this time he was getting into it. I noticed he started jerking his miniscule prick, so I thought it would be a good time for me to pound one out, which I did. When he shot his dick, I thought I was looking at the fountain show at the Bellagio. There was cum everywhere.

I left for some errands, including getting more shirts (what the fuck happened to size small and mediums these days??? Is everyone a fucking XXL???) and some dago-T's for the gym. On my way there, I got a call from Sk8er who said he was drunk and needed me to fuck him. Boink! The long-ranger told me to head to that corral ASAP, and I did. The sex was OK since I got to fuck him however I wanted. I don't like him constantly calling me "daddy" (technically, I suppose that could be possible age-wise if I had forgotten to use a condom in highschool) or begging me not to ever cum but to keep fucking him for an hour (not gonna happen, I had other things to do). So, I'm pretty wiped for the night, considering I still have to go to work tomorrow (lousy bunch of racists!!!)

Sleepover

OK kids, grab your sleeping bags, flashlights and tape-measures; it's time for the first sleepover of 2010. Before this weekend, the last time I saw Norseman was the last week of December when I was up in SF. I called him up and he said he was sitting around at his friend's house, but with nothing much to do. Since he's still living there without his own place, I convinced him to let me take him to a porno theater and get him alone in a booth. Like a champ, he let me bend him over the chair and plow his ass (he whined like a child forced to eat spinach for dinner as I was banging his hole). But now that the holidays were over, we made plans for him to stay over my place last night. We ended up having some AWESOME sex (twice), watching movies (Hostel 1 and 2) and then just sleeping together, which was pretty good, although I didn't sleep as much as I would have solo. I really should have caught a couple of shots of his pink hole pouting from his milky white bubble-butt. I know he would have let me, but I was just too wrapped up in the moment everytime I was inside him. Like I said before, he can get kind of fem and pretentious (his favorite movie is "Love, Valour, Compassion" which says a lot). And he's been adamant about not wanting to date anyone who isn't completely "comfortable" with himself (i.e. that would introduce him as his boyfriend to all friends and family...not gonna happen). So, I'm completely satisfied for now with the occasional fuck-fest.

On the gym front, I finally "broke on through, to the other side". BOOM! Suckaz...(that's my new catch-phrase of 2010, replacing "shake it don't break it"). I've been trying a lot to gain a few more pounds of mass, and can honestly say I'm at 165 lbs now; meaning that's the weight I woke up with this morning. I did it without the help of Trainer, who I ended up not working out with, since he subtly hinted that we'd be working out during his prime client 'slot' and that he'd otherwise be getting paid for his services. And although I was very tempted to say a) "since you're the one who obviously enjoys it more when we have sex, I think we should call it even" or b) "Sure. You can bill me after you loose the love-handles" I diplomatically said "Gotcha. Well, let's just find a time when it's convenient for both of us then". I understand the boy may need money, but I don't want to cross that line with him.

And although I was able to hit my mark by myself this time, I fully appreciate the value of good trainers to some people. My good friend Kev-bo is a case in point: I remember when I went to visit him back in 2007 in Montreal, we both went to his gym, La Cite, where he had a scheduled training session (I worked out alone). First, that is the BEST, most KICK-ASS gym I have ever been to; good equipment, good crowd, swank atmosphere and segregated sauna/pool/jacuzzi area. The only problem I had there was when some smarmy dude there trying to talk to me in French (I don't do French unless it's absolutely necessary) so I just shrugged. Then he asked me in English where I was from, and I said I was Latin. He said in a strong gutteral accent, "Latin women are so hot! Zey are so great in bed." I didn't make any comment or reaction. Then, he continued "I am from Syria." At which point I looked up at him bright-eyed, "No, now Muslim Arab women are FUN to fuck--especially the married ones. Most of them have never had an orgasm, so they're so grateful in bed." (Boom! Sucka...) He wasn't amuzed, and I didn't care and just continued my workout. Anyway, back to Kev-bo just a year prior back in San Francisco, he was lamenting how out-of-shape he felt. And under this trainer, the boy was looking GOOD. In fact, at the time I was probably 10 - 15 lbs overweight, and when Kev-bo and I walked naked to the huge jacuzzi together after the workout, I couldn't help but admire his slight swagger of confidence from his physique. So, I do have an open mind about trainers, but I don't think I'm ready to take the plunge yet.

Lastly, there was a tall lanky 19-year-old kid I fucked a few times back in 2007. He was pretty good in bed, but shortly after the 3rd time got into a relationship with some guy who fucked him over in more ways than I can count on 2 hands. This also left physical issues (hemhorroids) which meant he could no longer bottom. So, going back to guys who have "switched", I could count him among them, although in his case while he says he really likes to fuck as a top, he has often lamented that he misses bottoming for me. Well, turns out this year he is going to surgically take care of his little problem, and made a point of telling me how he'd definitely be up for "trying it out again". I said I'd be more than happy to oblige, and that my friend, Sven would be a great guy to join us, since he's an awesome top AND bottom, which would take the pressure off the kid (i.e. Sven is an expert at making anyone feel comfortable enough to relax). So, Sven, are you up for the first three-way of 2010???

WAAH!!!

If you here that monosylabic curt yet profound exclamation from me, it connotes an unpleasant surprise, such as realizing the pair of underwear I just put on came from the freezer just seconds prior. For me to put this into perspective, I'll back up to this last weekend on Saturday morning when I had just finished boning this sweet piece of Filipino boy pussy: To that end, I really wasn't sure if I wanted to attend the underwear party (I had already had Asian that day). So, I decided to play it by ear until the evening. But just when I was psyching myself up to head to the gym, then up to SF, I got a call from Trainer who wanted to "wish me a happy new year". Riiiiight. I opted to go to his place rather than the underwear party and ended up boning him in our usual style: Good, not great. After we were done, we lied on his bed chatting and eventually started talking about the gym and how I was trying to put on some weight, and his work as a trainer. He said he wasn't taking on as many clients to train since he is heavily working on his Bachelors in Physical Therapy. And here's the thing; he has gotten some very noticeable love-handles these days. I personally like a guy with some meat on the bones, but for a gym trainer, it must be detrimental to business. I noticed another trainer at my gym who used to be in incredible shape now has a large gut and love-handles as well. This is why I really don't trust most trainers, since my theory is most go into because they already have a naturally good physique. And when age sets in or their metabolism slows, they don't know what to do about it anymore than the average shmoe.

Which brings me to today; my second day of my incredibly lackluster job. I really don't like it. I know I'm sounding negative, but I can't find much about it that I like at all. I sincerely think the only thing that will get me through each day is remembering how much I just made in salary everytime I head home. I have no one to blame since I knew what I was getting into here. But I decided I needed to workout, since it had been a few days. When I got to my gym today-- WAAH! My first weekday back to the gym after New Years, meaning it was packed with everyone and their mother who had made the New Year's resolution to "get back in shape". Part of me says "good for them", but the other part says, "uh...you know you can talk on your cell-phone just as easily OFF the butterfly machine, right?" Luckily, 90% of these people will be gone by March, so I just need to wait it out. And as if to reasure me everything would be OK, as I was leaving I ran into the Greek kid there. We chatted for a bit and I told him how crowded it was now. He responded, "Yeah, I don't think we'll be able to do anything around here for awhile." I countered, "well, why don't you just come to my house again then?" He hesitated, then said, "my wife is expecting me..." then looked back up and said, "can we make it fast?" In other words, while Persephone was back at home stuffing Dolmades, I got to stuff this:

Yup, nice Greek bubble-butt.

Lastly, I got a couple calls from OL (my ex's ex down in LA). Apparently he tried to kill himself again by alcohol poisoning and was in the hospital for 4 days. He told me this evening and I just listened to him. What the fuck am I supposed to say? I barely know this guy. I feel like all I can say is "there there". I really do hope the best for him, but I'm not very optimistic. It's the 3rd time in as many months.

Anyway, I guess I'll wrap with the parting desire and hope that the work week gets better. Maybe I'm just mopey after having all that free time. Or maybe my job really does suck.

First Fuck of 2010

And here we are: 2010. Weren't we supposed to be colonizing Io by now? I just dunno. So, before I get into some boning, I have to make a few profound-as-you-want-them-to-be type comments. First, 2009 wasn't all that bad. Yes, I know a lot of people lost their jobs (I quit mine), their 401k's, their savings and even their houses. Yes, I realize a lot of celebrities died (RIP Brittany Murphy). But no one in the US was starving on the streets, crushed in an earthquake, blown up by Mohammedans or any number of horrible events which BTW DID happen around the world. So, pleeeze, let's put things into perspective, eh.

As for me, 2009 was pretty cool on a personal level. I spent half of it in Europe, which was definitely a growth experience for too many reasons to go into. But one thing I am very grateful for 2009 is I finally got to hear songs I had not heard in some cases over 25 years. Why? Because although I searched and scowered the internet and music sites, I could never find these particular songs, NAMELY because I didn't know what they were called (or in 2 cases, the artists). But because Europe has different search engines than the US, I was finally able to find them. And here they are:

1. I heard this one when I first arrived in the US as a young lad, but only once and on the radio, which didn't announce the name of it when it ended. Since my English at the time was limited, I could only make out a few words of it here and there; and some of it was WAY off. I was pretty sure it was by the Pet Shop Boys, so I'd try and google it along with some of the phrases (I remembered "get to heaven" was one line) but in the US the same hits would always come up; their song "Heaven" and "Domino dancing". I even listened to samples of what I thought was ALL their songs (no easy feat, since they made a LOT of crap). But lo' and behold, on a European search engine I was finally able to come up with:



Next, the cheesiest of my selections, yet heavy with sentimental value. I heard this at a club in Mazatlan Mexico back in the 80's as I was on my way with some random chick to feel her up in the dark-room (good times). It's a lame song, but it's a tune I could never get out of my head and never knew who it was by. Once again, the European search engines spewed forth their bounty and gave me:


And lastly, and this is possibly the most obscure and thus miraculous, as a tyke living in Ethiopia at the time, I remember one night at a performance of folkloric dance I heard one of the most beautiful songs I had ever heard in my very young life. Once again, I didn't remember barely any of the words (or even understand most of them) as I was more mesmerized by the dancing and spectacle of it all. Yet the sophisticated melody and composition (which rivaled if not surpased Beethoven's "Ode to Joy"...and I'm willing to argue this point) haunted me throughout my life up till this last year. And I finally found it; an obscure tribal dance that probably only a handful of people had ever heard outside Ethiopia. God bless the internet.


OK, now on to some less etherial subjects: the bone dance. After the initial euphoria of the new year wore off, the horniness soon set in. I knew there would be a host of out-of-towners visiting assorted relatives or friends in the area. So, I went on adam4adam and did indeed find a flight attendant staying at a hotel near SFO. I agreed to meet him, and it turns out he was a thuggish Puerto Rican (BOY do I have a thing for Boricuas) with a long uncut dick and SWEET ass (well, you be the judge, since I took both these pics with my cameraphone. The first was before we started, the second as you can see is after I thoroughly wrecked that hole.
Right after I got into his hotel (he was waiting for me butts up on the bed in a jockstrap as per my command) I let him suck me for a little. Then I moved behind him, noticed the lube and profos he had out on the dresser and put one on the long-ranger. As for lube, he'd be getting "natures choice". I slid my cock inside him and pumped him doggie. Although he was very toned and inshape, he was a bit shorter in stature, which allowed me to lift him up, throw him down on the bed, move him around as necessary etc. Finally, I got on top of him missionary and said, "I'm gonna cum. You want it in the face or in the ass?" "In my face!" he said expectantly. I repeated, "What? In the ass?" more of a statement this time. He moaned, "yes, in my ass." And I let lose and banged his boy pussy until I came. I got two rounds off with him, and all in all, a GREAT fuck. Nice guy, too. As I'm writing this, I MAY have another bottom come over, which may influence whether or not I go to the Underwear party tonite as planned (not worth paying the money to go if my balls are empty). More to come.