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Wonderful Life

May 29th, 2009 § 9 comments § permalink

It’s an age old question: When exactly does life begin?

And a question that will never be answered.

Because it all depends on your perspective.

I don’t mean life from a physical standpoint.  I’ll leave that to the theological and political folks.

I’m talking about life from more a metaphysical standpoint.

I could say my life began when it all changed after my parents’ deaths.

I could say my life began when I became old enough to appreciate it.

I could say my life began years before I was even conceived.

May 29, 1960, perhaps.  Fifteen years, one month, and one day before I was even born.

That’s when the Attorney came into this world.

Whether his physical life began then or with a heartbeat less than nine months earlier, it was the beginning of a life course that would eventually cross paths with mine.

Without that, my life would not be nearly so wonderful.

Is there any better reason to celebrate?

{ fin }

Wetter

May 26th, 2009 § 14 comments § permalink

It was so good it almost split my head open.

I didn’t go into the details of the end of my sexual fast in the previous post because it could have gotten downright pornographic.  But I guess at the same time I left out a couple of key facts.

How long did I last?

Basically about ten days, a couple of tugs, a dozen or so licks, two or three good sucking strokes and one deep swallow.

Then it was over.

Or just beginning.  Depending on how you look at it.

Because even though I didn’t last a long time, the nut did.

And it felt like it was all in slow motion.

How was it?

I thought I was gonna die.

A slow, painful, and oh so satisfying death.

It had to be death.  My entire life flashed before my eyes.  My sexual life, anyway.  Every load I had ever had over the last twenty years came out of me again.

All at once.  All over the place.

And it was spectacular.

My nuts ached.  Even more than they had the entire waiting period.  I literally felt them1 rising and falling, rising and falling. Over and over again.

My head ached like an ice cream brain freeze.  I trembled. I was dizzy.

And I loved it.

Even as I pitched forward and bumped my head on the wall.

I could have died.

And if I had, what better place than the Attorney’s mouth?…er…arms.

I meant to say arms.

{ fin }

  1. From the inside. []

Wet

May 26th, 2009 § 7 comments § permalink

The storm held off as long as it could.  And so did I.

I knew I wouldn’t make it fourteen days.

The Attorney and I spent Memorial Day afternoon on a friend’s boat.  I didn’t really didn’t want to go at first because I only knew a couple of other people, but the call of the first swim of the year was too strong.

But, I have to admit that despite my wallflower tendencies I had a good time.  The other fellas were all quite friendly and some of them quite flirty.1

We cruised the lake for a while, found a spot to settle, and most of us went in for a swim.  The water around here still has a bit of a chill to it, but when the sun would break through, it beat down hard on our shoulders giving us that dual sensation hot sweat and cold wet that makes summer so great.

There was a lot of water play.  Splashing, chasing, wrestling.  Even a few submerged grabs that I wasn’t always sure who they were coming from.  Temptation.

Add to that the fact that the combination of gay men and alcohol meant that britches were bound to start coming off.  I kept mine on. 2

But there was some rump candy among the group. Temptation. So the cold water was a bit of a blessing when it came to keeping everything under control.

The threat of thunderstorms continued through most of the day, but Mother Nature really meant it by evening time.  We docked just as a light sprinkle started and everybody said their goodbyes.

Seemed like everybody at the lake was trying to get out of there at the same time and while we were sitting in a line of traffic through the park, the sky suddenly went dark and just opened up.

It was a very heavy and wet rain.  Big ol’ drops like slammed from above like transparent water balloons.  Saturation.

I love that kind of rain and wished that I was out in it.

“Let’s do it!” the Attorney grinned at me.  Temptation.

He immediately did a U-turn back into the empty park, we jumped out of the car and off we went into an open area of grass to run in the rain.  It was salty and fresh.  We became lost in wetness the summer evening like three-year olds waiting to be called in by their mother.

And Mother Nature called in a big way.  The flash of lightning and earth-trembling rumble of thunder elicited an “Oh, shit!” in stereo and sent us sprinting for shelter under in a covered picnic area.

We sat side by side on one of the table, the Attorney and me..Shoulder to shoulder. Elbow to elbow. Thigh to thigh. Knee to knee. Foot to foot. Attorney to Tony. Tony to Attorney. Soaked to the bone.

Saturation.

The sounds of the rain beating the earth, combined with beating against the metal roof presented a soothing symphony of percussion. 3

He put his hand inside my thigh.  Not to to make a move or produce and effect.  Just because that’s where it belongs.

But ten days of waiting had an effect.  My cock tunneled through the leg of my shorts and kissed the heel of his hand.

Nothing else happened for the longest time.  Just the rain.  Beating.  And my heart.  Pounding.  Palpitations.

Then I felt his fingers.  Dancing.

Temptation.

The storm had run everyone away.  But to be safe, he led to a nook between a water fountain and the barbecue pit.  It was  laced with spider sacks and smelled a little off, but I didn’t care.  Yet, at the same time I felt like we should stop.

“Your birthday is not until Friday.  Just four more days.”

“You’re not going to make it,” he said, kneeling down.

And I didn’t.

Culmination.

Saturation.

{ fin }

  1. It’s funny how fascinating you become to people simply by being fresh meat. []
  2. Surprising to some of you, I know.  But I don’t think The Attorney would have liked it.  He certainly kept his on, too. []
  3. Like “STOMP” for us low key people. []

Is That A Blue Ribbon Or Are You Happy To See Me?

May 22nd, 2009 § 17 comments § permalink

Abstinence makes the hard (on) grow longer.

I’m about into day seven of going without a nut and I swear my pecker is bigger than normal.

It could just be my imagination.  But I really think it is growing.

Or maybe I am having hallucinations from lack of jack.

It’s probably simply the fact that I am not used to carrying a semi-to-full bone everywhere I go.

But I am.

I wake up:  Full bone.  Breakfast: Semi Bone.  Morning call to the Attorney: Full bone.  Shave and shower: Semi Bone.  Soap up the jewels: Leaky Bone.  And so the roller coaster continues through the rest of the day until I’m finally back in bed for the night with my leg over a pillow as if it was the Attorney: Full bone.

BIG full bone.

Now, I’m not saying I have the biggest cucumber in the bushel basket. 1 It’s not gonna take the blue ribbon, but it’s impressive enough to enter in the country fair.2

And frankly, I’m enjoying it.  The bigness. The heaviness.  The meatiness.  It sort of makes all the abstinence worth it.  I mean who doesn’t want a bigger pecker? 3

I always hate hearing guys whine about the burden of being hung.  It’s like people who whine about being too rich.

“Oh, you don’t know what it’s like.  Everyone hates me just because of my money.  Everyone likes me just for my cock.  I sometimes wish it would all go away.”

Liars.  Everyone of them.

There are very few people who would be willing to give up their money.  There’s even fewer who would be willing to give up even one millimeter of size.

It’s the same way with women and tits.  Yeah, I know there are some women seek who out breast reductions4 but I think that, more often than not,  is about health issues (back pain, etc.) than anything.  But a lot more gals are making them bigger than smaller.

If guys had a really viable medical option to add and inch or so that wouldn’t risk erectile function, tissue damage, etc., there would be a line out the door of the doctor’s office.5  As much as we don’t like the ideas of sharp objects near our junk6 if it meant more meat in a safe way, I would buy stock in pecker clinics.

Now, I’m not saying all men are out there wishing their cocks were bigger.  I’ know plenty of men7 are satisfied with what they have.  I’m just saying that if the opportunity arose, how many guys are going to turn down a bonus?

“But I can’t find a partner who can take me.”

Boo-hoo.  Liar.

You know that trick where you put an egg on the mouth of a bottle and light a candle inside.  All you need to do is light a little fire inside him, and you’ll slip into places neither one of you ever thought you could.

And for you bottoms who persist that you just can’t do it, I have one response.

“A man is nothing with out a goal.”8

I’ve got my goal.  Seven more days.

A week from now, I’ll be putting it through the uprights.9

{ fin }

  1. Not even close. []
  2. A red or a white ribbon. []
  3. Or at least feel like it’s bigger. []
  4. Never heard of a pecker reduction []
  5. and they would be going for more than an inch or so. []
  6. Or anything other than soft fabric, a firm hand, a wet mouth, or warm innards. []
  7. most probably []
  8. “Now bend over!” []
  9. Football reference for those of you non sports lovers. []

Not So Fast

May 19th, 2009 § 18 comments § permalink

Masturbation should be practiced like voting: early and often.

I have been rubbing it out for about twenty years now and I still like to practice. Practice makes perfect, you know.

Besides, you got keep the pump primed if you want the well to produce…well.

Before the Attorney, I went through about a year and a half period where I did not touch another man.  But I can’t remember ever going a day and a half without touching myself.

Yet, I haven’t busted a nut since Friday night. I am on day four of a two-week fast.

The point of the fast is to see if it will make me faster.

This may come under the heading of TMI, so you can stop reading if you want, but I’m a bit of a late-cummer.  It takes me a while.1

It’s not like a “is it ever going to happen?” kind of thing.  It’s gonna happen.  Believe me.  Whoever I am with just needs to be ready to spend a little time with his task.

I like to think of it as stamina.

And there haven’t been any complaints.  Just observations.

The Attorney says it’s because I keep the chambers empty and it takes a while to reload.  I say it’s because it’s a long distance from the production line to the loading door.

He suggested I hold off a few days and see if I could tell a difference and asked me how long I could last.  Having never tried,2 I didn’t know.  But, being a guy, naturally I bragged and said I could last as long as I needed.

“Two weeks,” he challenged.  “My birthday is in two weeks, and it will be a blast if you wait until then and let me take care of it.”

Blast will be putting it mildly.

I should know better than to let my ego get the best of me.  Because I am not going to make it.  I should have just offered the usual pound cake.  Day four and I’m already woozy, murderous, and a little bit leaky.

I’m afraid I am not the master of my domain.  Even though my pecker takes the beating, I’m the slave.

I’ll do my best to stay strong if he starts getting affectionate when I see him this weekend. 3

But I will whisper in his ear those three little words:

NOT SO FAST.

{ fin }

  1. Unless I’m jigging it, then I can rip one out in a few minutes. []
  2. I never saw the point. []
  3. With still a week to go. []

Make It Last

May 14th, 2009 § 24 comments § permalink

I have been in my spring time funk. Which is an annual down cycle that follows my spring time hornies.

One is not the product of the other.  The two are completely unrelated.

Other than the fact that the spring time funk tempers my spring time hornies down a bit.

So that by the time the spring time funk is over, I am back to standard level horniness.

The funk always happens in May.

Because of my momma.

May was the month she died.  May was the month of her birthday.  And Mother’s Day falls in between the two.

So she tends to be extra on my mind this time of year.

I remember well the last time I saw my momma.1 But I can’t seem to remember the last time she saw me.

Of course it was some time before she went into the hospital, but I can’t put together the particulars.

I guess you don’t tend to hold on to specifics when you don’t know it’s going to be the last time.

When was the last time she changed my diaper?

When was the last time she let me climb into her lap for butterfly kisses?

When was the last time she laid out my clothes for school?

When was the last time we had a secret trip to Dairy Queen, just us, without my father and brother?

When was the last time I pitched her a softball so she could practice her swing?

When was the last time she cooked me pancakes?

When was the last time she brushed my hair?

When was the last time I did something to make her proud?

When was the last time she saw me?

If only I’d known it was the last time, I would have made it last.

{ fin }

  1. It was  nineteen years ago and she was laying in the hospital dead. []

Happy Ending

May 4th, 2009 § 10 comments § permalink

The Attorney held me face down and straddled me. I was pinned in place by his knees on either side of my waist.

“Just relax,” he said over me. “You’re going to like it.  I promise.”

It was not a configuration in which you would normally find us.

I finally gave in and let him do the deed.

I have never been one for getting a massage.  Like some other horizontal activities, I prefer to give.

I think being squirmy about massages comes from all the years that I was so self conscious about my body.  I guess I didn’t want anyone to really feel how skinny I was.  I’m not exactly a muscle boy now, either, but I do feel better about carrying a little more meat on my body as I have moved into my 30′s.

Another reason why I have not been all about the massage is that I don’t think I’ve ever really had a good one.  It always felt like getting pressure in just one spot at a time.  Like sitting on a chair with a broken spring.

But the Attorney has some hands on him.  He can cover a lot of surface area. I thought I had pretty good sized mitts, but he’s got big ol pizza pans hanging off his wrists.  Which I guess is not all that out of the ordinary when you are 6′-5″.

Actually, just like most of his height is in his legs, most of the Attorney’s hand is in his fingers.  He has no trouble wrapping his fist entirely around whatever he may need to.  For example, if he ran across something along the lines of seven inches in circumference on a Friday night, he’d be able to handle it just fine. 1

The heels of his hands gave pressure to my lower back and I felt his fingers splay out and open up like like a fan as he spread oil across my back, sliding toward my shoulders and neck.  I swear there were moments when I could feel his thumbs in the middle of my back and his finger tips just barely tracing my sides at the same time.  And I don’t have a narrow back. 2

Needless to say, I was enjoying his work.  And, being that it was the Attorney, I was enjoying it in places he wasn’t touching, too…even though it was Friday night.

I figured it was all going to come to a Happy Ending anyway.  That’s the way a massage works, right?

But the happy ending never came.

Maybe because, at some point in the massage, I fell asleep.

It felt that good.

But it’s okay that there was no happy ending.  Because, I don’t want the Attorney and I to have an ending.

Happy or otherwise.

I want there to always be one more page to turn.

{ fin }

  1. And has. []
  2. It’s not like I’m all buff, but I just happen to have broad shoulders and a small waist, so you have to connect the two points some how. []

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