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Ohh, Yeeaaahhhh... This is the entry from yesterday, which I'm only just posting now 'cause I got interrupted too many times to finish it. Hopefully, I'll have more to say (and it'll be less pornographic) later today. I feel that in the interest both of responding to those who have inquired (or simply wondered) and documenting experience, which was one of the original purposes of my beginning this diary, I must post a follow-up to my last entry before moving on with other thoughts on other matters. This entry is basically just going to be porn, so if you have a problem with that, I suggest you skip it. I must confess there are people whom I hope are not reading this, and this entry should decidedly carry an 'R' rating: No one under seventeen years of age admitted without parent or guardian. And if your parent or guardian is reading this with you, you've got a seriously dysfunctional relationship going on there, and should be seeking therapy. Before I begin, I'll admit that it is probably appropriate to call me a slut, though I'd much rather just be thought of as a nymphomaniac, as that's far more accurate, particularly in spring and summer, when as Depeche Mode put it, "I just can't get enough." And while the experience was not of the nature I described in my previous entry, nor did it come at precisely the time I wanted it, it was most assuredly fulfilling. Our tale begins at around 8.30 Friday night, when while checking my e-mail and considering going out with some friends, I ran into a friend online whom I'll call Ron. Now, Ron is the kind of guy you expect to find at the slightly trashy bar/club with garish decor and loud music being badly mixed by a local DJ, having a couple brews with his frat brothers or teammates and getting the numbers of a fair number of young "town chicks" throughout the evening, smooth-talking them into thinking they're going home with him while referring to them with his buds in all manner of derogatory terms before finally deciding which "cheap slut" he wants to take home and bone. In fact, he's nothing like that. He may look like your typical young Italian thug, captain of the football team, wrestler, and fratboy enforcer at 5'11" and about 190 lbs., with his nearly shaved head, broad shoulders and powerful arms with tats on both biceps, but in fact, he's a really sweet, thoughtful, decent guy. He also happens to be an insatiable "tight end" in bed...Or so he thought, but then, we'd never had sex before. Our conversation online led to catching up over the phone, and "What've you been up to" eventually turned to, "Damn, I'm horny," and since neither of us was particularly busy that night, I invited him over to hang out, have a few beers, watch some TV and get fucked like a dawg. He said he wasn't into that, and that was the end of that. NOT!! He got to my place around 9.30, and we had a couple beers and watched re-runs of SEINFELD and THAT 70S SHOW for awhile before he asked for the grand tour of the new place. I obliged, with the caveat that things were still in a bit of disarray, as there are still boxes that haven't been unpacked, things that haven't quite found their home in my new home. When we reached the master bedroom, Ron pulled me onto my bed; I didn't need much encouragement. We made out for awhile facing each other on our knees before diving sideways into the wall of pillows at the head of my bed to continue our tongue-wrestling while undressing each other. The boy is an amazing kisser, with wonderfully full lips which practically beg to be sucked and nibbled, and a perfectly moist, hot tongue, which he obviously knows very well how to use. He didn't flinch as I spanked his muscular ass through his tight briefs, but moaned as I alternated flicking my tongue quickly across and biting his nips. I relished the near-electric charge of stoking his close-cropped hair (he�s mostly smooth, and shaves most of where he isn�t), while he sucked my cock as though he hadn�t tasted a man in months. (I happened to know that it had, in fact, only been about a week since he got it from another of his friends.) We returned to kissing intermittently, with me on top of him, grinding our pelvises together, or with him riding me, the head of my cock sliding between his ass cheeks, slipping back and forth across (but not yet into) his hole. We alternated sucking each other for awhile; he loved having his balls stroked while I swallowed his shaft, and seemed to enjoy even more when I face-fucked him as he lay supine on my bed, plunging all the way into his throat before smacking him in the face with my dick and taunting him (�You want some more of this, boy? You�d better beg, or else you can�t have it.� Yeah, right.), then having him suck on my balls while I stroked myself right over his face. Eventually, though, I had three of my spit-lubed fingers in his ass while flicking my tongue over the head of his dick, and we both wanted something more. I grabbed the bottle of lube which he had brought (I was nearly out of Astroglide; he brought something silicone-based. That�s latex-safe, too, but I typically prefer the feel of the water-based stuff; in this case, I didn�t mind.), smeared some onto my dick, unrolled a condom onto myself, covered it with a liberal amount of the lubricant (�as directed�) and handed the bottle of to Ron for him to make sure he was prepared to continue. Like many others, Ron prefers to climb on top and lower himself onto the man who�s penetrating him, so as to control the speed and depth with which he is entered. In his case, though, it�s not only a way to �open himself up,� but also a convenient way to work himself, to make sure his top hits all the important places as he rocks back and forth, with his partner probing his prostate from varying angles. The boy knows what he wants and how to get it. I did my best to meet his rocking with thrusts from beneath while pulling him down to kiss me and working his nipples, neck and ears with both my hands and mouth. That�s not my favourite position, though, so after awhile, I pushed him backwards a bit and sat up as he continued to ride with both of us in a seated position, me fondling him while he impaled himself. When I pushed him all the way back, so as to take him from above, though, he had other ideas. He climbed off of me completely and dove onto his hands and knees, facing the mirror in my headboard. (I�ve had my bed since 1985. It used to be a waterbed and is one of those deals with a pedestal with drawers beneath and a bookcase headboard with cabinets, a mirror and reading lights. Very retro-pimpin�, only not, �cause it�s got a regular mattress in it now. The bedroom suite is in mild disrepair and will not come with me the next time I move house.) What cold I do but oblige? I eased myself into his ass once again, divining from his gasps that I was, in fact, penetrating more deeply and at an angle which created more intense sensations in this position. We alternated between three different versions of the same position for awhile: one with him on his hands and knees; another with him almost totally face down on the bed (this one produced the most satisfying yelps, as I apparently hit different, probably still deeper places, where I had to take it easy to keep from hurting him), and a third, with both of us basically on our knees, often with my arms wrapped around him and his face turned to kiss me (he said later that this was his favourite), while I fucked him in a nearly upright position. Finally, we switched to my personal favourite (however surprisingly traditional it may be); he lay on his back, legs in the air, ankles on my shoulders, and I penetrated him �missionary-style.� I like this position best because it gives me the greatest amount of control and the widest variety of angles of penetration, not to mention that I can watch my partner�s facial expressions, kiss, lick ears, bite necks, nibble tits, and sometimes even suck dick (yes, I am a flexible and multi-talented young man), while drilling away. I�m always amazed at how some of the seemingly toughest men turn high-pitched and girly as they gasp things like, �Oh, yeah, fuck me!� and �Pound my ass!� in the passion of the moment. He hissed that he wanted me to cum; as is my custom, I said, �You first,� (I�ve learned pretty well to control my orgasms; I can generally hold off for as long as necessary, or nearly cum on command, at this point, and frankly, my partner�s orgasm is almost always more important to me than my own), so he did. And I did. And we kissed. And showered. And had a cigarette and another beer. And cuddled as we watched TV. Wouldn�t ya know that cuddling led to making out, which led to more fooling around in the shower, which led to blowing each other some more (He especially enjoyed watching himself in the mirror with me in his mouth) and then finishing by jerking off together? (He wanted more, but determined based on the fact that he was sore and having a little trouble walking that it might be best if I didn�t fuck him again right then�And here we�d been a little concerned that the first round might not be enough, �cause Ron�s a little nympho, too! Well, I had glanced at the clock at various points in Round One, certainly not because I was bored, but it was right in front of my face, and we did spend somewhere between forty-five minutes and an hour on the fucking alone�) We washed each other off in the shower again afterwards and hung out for a bit more, but Ron had to take off, as he had to work early in the morning. I was a very satisfied boy (though I did masturbate about ten times over the weekend � good thing those old wives� tales about hairy palms and going blind aren�t true). He left his bottle of lube. I have a feeling we�ll be doing this again soon. P.S.: C�s ex was in town visiting from California this weekend. We did not see each other. I�m sure they slept together. I�m totally fine with that. I enjoy sex with people I used to date, too. ;-) r
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