My first orgy!

It was the most exciting thing that's happened, sexually, in my life in a long time. But I had the chance to participate in a small orgy. I'm not usually the type to go for such slutty behavior in winter, but it's been a dry spell for me, and any sex I can get right now is going to be good sex, so I dedcided to join in.

It started when I was looking for a simple blow job online. I was cruising the Craigslist posts and hoping to find anything good. I had contacted a lot of guys, but most of them couldn't host, and unfortunately my roommates had friends in town so I was just looking to get out of the apartment and get off and pass out. I kept getting responses back saying guys would love to fuck me, suck me, get fucked by me, if I could only host. I was miserable. What? Is every man in my city a closet case? I'm started to get annoyed by the situation.

I started lowering my standards... Well, maybe I wasn't lowering my standards, maybe I was just "casting my net wider" because I started emailing a lot of posts I normally wouldn't. After waiting about a half an hour, and getting no new responses, I was about to just masturbate the night away, a beautiful evening with KY, five finger Mary, and my cock. Then a really obnoxious Asian guy started responding to my response. He kept sending emails one after the other begging me to come over. He must have been more desperate than me, and that didn't sit well with me, but I responded to one of his emails, and asked him what he was up for.

He said he had been talking to some other guys who were coming over, and would I be interested. I dropped my jaw. The pictures he attached were beautiful. There was a really sexy black man with a perfect six-pack, and a cute Latino with a hunky body and beautiful smile. I said I'd be right over.

Unfortunately, the Asian guy was really weird. And I got there really early. And he couldn't stop laughing in a high-pitched laugh as he rambled around his apartment trying to clean up. I finally asked if I could watch some TV, so he obliged and I started watching the Daily Show to get my mind off how annoying he was. 'This isn't about personality,' I kept thinking. 'I just want to get laid, get off, and get home.'

When the Asian guy--Rat is what he wanted to be called--finished cleaning he wanted to make out. I wasn't really attracted to him, and really wanted the other two guys to come by soon. I deflected his advances by unzipping my fly and hoping he'd just start sucking, which he obediently did. As annoying as he was, he was a great cocksucker. I wasn't especially hard, because I was so distracted by Jon Stuart, but he did his job with enthusiasm. He sucked it straight for about 20 minutes, before the other two guys called to ask him to let them in.

When they walked in, I couldn't have been happier. The black man, David, was 6'4", and beautiful. A perfect complexion, completely chill, and high as a kite, with a nice 8" dick (at least!). The Latino, Eddie, started drinking after Rat offered a beer, and so did I. If we were all gonna be a little out of our mind, I was gonna get there. After three beers each, and some awkward chit-chat, Eddie and David decided to get things started. They took off their coats (mine had long been discarded when I first got there) and started undressing. David immediately looked at me, and I was happy I got to start sucking his soft black dick immediately. I love it when I can feel a cock grow in my mouth.

Rat started sucking on Eddie, and afterward it was really hard to keep track of what was happening. When Rat and Eddie fell onto the bed where I was sucking David off, Eddie started sticking his thick middle finger up my ass with no lube, if kind of hurt, but I just kept sucking on David's nice big black cock. It tasted so salty and sweet. With his finger still up my ass, Rat still sucking on his Dick, Eddie started making out with David, and I put my hands up to stimulate David's nipples (which were pierced...that is by far the sexiest thing to see on a beautiful man's well sculpted chest).

Then David pulled my head up to his and started making out with me, and moaning that he wanted my ass. Rat got up and grabbed his condoms (but he had no lube!) and put one on David. David was slow a deliberate. I was kneeling over his chest, slowly falling back on his cock and he slowly but firmly pushed me onto his big slab of meat. I could barely take it. It had to be bigger than I thought. I was screaming in pain and ecstasy. I wanted it so bad, but was having so much trouble managing it while it was in me. After about ten minutes, and a real slow grind, I decided to get off and let Rat have a try at it. He took it quickly and rode it hard. That's when Eddie stuck his finger up Rat's ass, and pushed me face down on the mattress and started sucking on my neck while he ground his dick into my ass--which was raging with fire after dealing with David's epic dark dick.

His neck sucking was really turning me on and I was grinding into his dick. I felt my hand being pulled, and all of a sudden David was sucking on my fingers. Eddie was giving me a huge hickey, but that was fine, because it felt so good and seemed to last forever. Or, at least until Rat fell off David's dick. Rat started sucking my cock, and Eddie laid back to watch. David wasn't having any of that so he propped himself up like he was about to do pushups on the night stand by the bed and positioned his cock in front of Eddie's face. I was so turned of watching David's black ass move up and down, and seeing how Eddie playing with David's ass and hole. It got me harder, which Rat probably thought was because of his suck job, but I don't care.

Rat just kept sucking and sucking. When David was done with Eddie he just laid down and moved to where I would suck him off, while Eddie walked around the other side of the bed and got on and started to spoon/grind/makeout with me while I sucked David and was sucked by Rat. I was so turned out. It had to be ten minutes of absolute ECSTASY because I came ropes of come that never seemed to stop. Apparently I was the last to come, because Eddie said he had come twice, and David had come in my mouth right before I came.

With the taste of David's cum and dick in my mouth, the taste of my cum in Rat's mouth, the feel of Eddie's cock grinding on my ass, and his hickey obvious on my neck, I walked home happier than I had been in months.

Nothing helps the mood like a good orgy!



Let me know what you guys think. What I should change. If I should keep writing. Feedback always helps. :)

I love black men

Over the break I was trying to get into some action at home. I wasn't trying too hard, but lately, I've been really enjoying sex with black men. It hasn't really been a thing for me before, but lately, I've been loving sex with a big black man who has a big black cock. It's wonderful!

I'm not sure what the attraction has been, I've just really enjoyed it, and found black men so beautiful lately. And I've had a couple of great encounters.

The first encounter I had was in a public bathroom at the beginning of break. I wasn't even looking for it, but standing at the urinals, I was just taking a piss, and a 6 foot something black man walks up right next to me in an empty bathroom, and starts taking a piss. Normal, right? But he's staring straight at me. I guess he figured he could get away with it because while I might be on the tall side, I couldn't battle his massive muscles. He was dark too. About as dark as a man could get, and I love it when a black man is especially dark.

I didn't even notice he was staring right at me until I was finished and zipped up. I had to turn towards him to walk out of the bathroom, and that's when I made eye contact. I thought it was just a fluke, and I didn't want to get beat up for making a faggot move in public with someone who wasn't going to go for it. He stopped me before I fully passed. Put his hand on my shoulder and applied a little pressure. Then grabbed my hand and put it on his cock. I stroked it up and down, almost instinctually. I couldn't help myself. Then he pushed me down, and I just opened my mouth up.

I feel like such a slut for admitting it, but I felt almost powerless. And he was a beautiful, attractive man. He had a perfect dick. About eight or nine inches. I couldn't swallow it all. I tried to, but I kept gagging and tearing up. He face fucked me, slamming his dick into the back of my throat and it hurt, but I liked it.

I liked it because even though I wasn't respecting myself at all, it's nice to know that someone can just look at you and know they want you, and that you'll want them. Or maybe I'm just faggy enough for him to know I prostitute myself out for nothing at all except his pleasure. That's probably closer to the truth. He got a serious look in his eye, and stopped face fucking me. He pulled out a condom from his pocket and kicked me toward a stall.

Is it sad I knew what he wanted, knew what to do, and did it? I staggered back into a stall and unbuckled my pants as quickly as I could, pulled down everything, put my back on the toilet seat and threw my legs up in the air.

"Good boy," he said. The condom was already on his dick and he was spitting on my hole. He didn't eat me out, which would have been heaven. He just spit to make sure h hit it. Then he spit on his on dick and started pushing.

I was fucking pissed for the first few seconds. You think you're gonna get an awesome fuck, and all of a sudden the guy can't even find your hole with his dick! He kept pushing way below where my hole was, and nothing was happening, so I said, "Push it up a little bit." He didn't do anything different. Kept pushing into my butt bone, like my ass was magically going to form another hole. I was getting frustrated, so I pushed him away from me a little bit and tried to grab at his dick to put it in the easy way. He slapped me, and tried again. Luckily he placed it right, and I wasn't about to say no to a man who was towering over me in a public bathroom about to fuck me.

Then he entered me. And god it hurt. But I started stroking, and soon I was hard, and his thrusts felt so good as I focused all my energy on the feelings in my cock. He was all the way in real fast, and thrusting hard. I was jerking, and enjoying it, when all of a sudden he was done.

I had been holding my cum for not long, but with no warning he tucks in his dick, zips up his pants, and walks out the door. I decide to cum. Legs still swung up in the air, the stall door open. I didn't care. It was a hot event.

I'll let you know about another incident with a big black cock later. Let me know you want to hear it by writing a comment!

Admitting the Truth - Sexually Molested

I realize everything I've posted up to this point has been really trashy--a fair reflection of a good portion of my sex life--but I've wanted to write about something publicly for so long, and I haven't been able. That is, until a few weeks ago.

A few weeks ago I was out drinking with a few friends and the most uncommon of commonalities was discovered between myself a good female friend (who I don't know extraordinarily well because I have only known her for a year, who I'll call Amelia). We were drunk, and moving to more drunk. It was the point in the night after a delicious three course dinner with a good group of people all meeting together for the first time in months. The atmosphere was heady. There were drinks before dinner and during dinner, but shots after dinner. Those are probably what did the trick.

Sitting amongst friends, and next to Amelia, we were tossing jokes about sex with men between the two of us, and I commented on how open she was about her views on sex and her personal sex-life. "Can I tell you a secret?" she leaned over and asked.

"Sure," I said, drunk and not exactly sure what I was getting myself into.

"I was molested when I was 8."

This is not what I expected to hear. Who would bare their soul at a dinner party out in the city amongst friends? A drunk on, probably. To me? A very drunk friend. After all, I'm not exactly known for having tight lips.

But her secret hit closer to home than she expected because I was also sexually molested when I was a kid, 10 years old.

I was a late bloomer growing up, one of the last of my friends to actually hit puberty and sprout up. At 10 I still looked like a babyfat-filled 8-year-old. It wasn't exactly something I was proud of, but I had always been a little skinny, had always been just a little taller than most (no longer true!), had always been soft-spoken besides. Being behind the growing curve had never hurt much of my chances at popularity or acceptance, so even at 10, people were still willing to talk to me, still willing to see me as a relative equal.

But I was still a child. Other people had started to understand things about the world, and my testicles hadn't even dropped. I was sorely behind the learning curve in almost every way. This is what the social workers and police explain as my attractive points to the pervert who made me suck his cock.

It was during summer. My parents were working. My older brother, who was 16 and just had his license was driving around that afternoon. I was left alone in the house: not a rare phenomenon. I was young, but responsible. The good kid. I didn't get into trouble, and if I did, I hid it well.

It all seems like a nightmare right now. Or a cheesy afterschool special. Looking back on it now, it's like he was following a script.

He was our neighbor. Someone we didn't know well at all, but someone we would always see jogging in the early morning, or mowing his lawn on Saturday mornings. He'll be Mr. L. Mr. L stopped by the house around 2 PM. My older brother had just left to go work out with the football team for optional early summer training, and both parents were still at work, and wouldn't be home for hours. When he knocked, looking for my dad, supposedly, I told him where everyone was, and that I was alone. What did I have to fear? He was a neighbor.

We invested a lot of social capital in that word: neighbor. It meant a lot. It meant trust. He lived close by. He was a part of our community. He was single and older. About 40 or 45 at this point. Not fat, and actually decently shaped. A constant early morning runner. He asked if he could come in and get some water--"Goodness it's hot." I said sure, and had him come in.

I walked to the fridge and he followed. I got a glass, asked if he wanted ice (he did) and poured him a glass of water.

He asked how old I was. He asked what I was interested in. He thanked me for the water. He said he'd be gone as soon as he finished the glass. He drank slowly.

He wasn't wearing a shirt when he came to the door. Just a pair of athletic shorts, and some tennis shoes. I assumed he had been running.

He turned the conversation to weird when he asked if my dad had ever asked me to "pop" me. I said no, and fell for the bait without even realizing what it was.

"What's a 'pop'?" I asked.

Let me show you, he said, smiling. He told me to come here, and when I was standing next to him, he pulled down his shorts. He took hold of his penis and said this was his pop. When you suck on it, like a lollipop, it tastes good and makes people feel better. "It's how people get happy," he explained. "Try it, you'll like it."

So I licked it. It had a scent of baby powder and soap. It didn't taste bad. So I took another lick.

When he started to get hard, he took control of my head and started to facefuck me. I got really uncomfortable, and my face started to hurt, and I was choking a little bit, and crying too. I started to hit him with my little fists and he eased up. "Whoa, there. Sorry little guy. I guess if your dad hasn't asked you to do this, you probably aren't too used to it."

"I guess not," I said through tears.

"Well, thanks for the water, little guy!" he practically shouted. "I guess I better be on my way."

"Ok," I sniffed.

I walked him to the door and closed and locked it. I didn't know what had just happened, but I started to cry in earnest right then and there in the foyer.

I didn't say anything for months. It wasn't until a long time later that I asked my brother about "pop" and explained to him what happened. He flipped out. He practically yelled at me about every little detail. Then he told my parents. My mom started hugging me, and all of a sudden everyone was around me and asking questions, and I thought they were mad at me because I had done or said something wrong. I was ashamed. I didn't want to say anything. I started crying. I woudn't say a word. I ran to my room and locked the door. My dad was beating on it for hours, but I didn't budge. I slept there all night without food. When I finally came out they were there, waiting for me, and I couldn't say a word. We refer to those days as my silent period. I couldn't speak.

Finally, the police were called in. I gave a report. They interviewed other children around the neighborhood, but I was the only one with a story. Mr. L was arrested. Mr. L left the neighborhood and that was the end of it. He has been a nightmare, an embarrassment. A shame-maker.

I'm sorry if this wasn't interesting to read. I just had to get that off my chest. It's hard to write about it, but ever since Amelia brought it up, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I thought putting it down in words would help. I hope it does. I just want to completely forget it ever happened sometimes.

The Strangest Bathroom Experience

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

LOST: Jack vs Sawyer

There is no end to the debate I have with myself about which LOST character I'd rather be fucked by: Jack or Sawyer. They are both studly men, and I was almost embarrassed to admit that I would want to be fucked by a strange man I have never met, who is statedly straight, and whose persona I only know through a television show. But then I realized I masturbate to porn, and what's the difference? I am my own man, and I'll fantasize about whoever I want to fuck me.

Jack, is the solid, modern, All-American man. He has a six pack, although it's not the most obvious feature of his physique. He has nice pecs, a little hairy chest, and the obvious 5 o'clock shadow at noon that always makes my skin tickle when a man rubs his scruff against my skin. This may be a big reason my fantasies about Jack tend to be more tender than my fantasies about Sawyer. He seems like the man who would be willing to join in a little foreplay before the real action get in. At least, he would kiss my neck and suck on my nipples before ripping my pants off and turning me around to finger my ass.

Jack would have to fuck me while he lays on top of me. My hips would be in the air, but barely as he rides on my hole. He would be sweaty, and drip on my neck. My back would be wet, and he would heighten the contact between the two of us, kissing my neck every time he thrusts his cock in all the way. He is not gentle, but he is kind.

Then there is Sawyer, and Sawyer--as far as I'm willing to imagine--would not enjoy a gay fuck. He would do it, I would get him hard, and he would stick his dick in me and love the sensation of my tight hole around his huge member, but he would hate me for making him go gay. He would be rough, and harsh, and he would not be interested in foreplay.

He would expect me to undress him, and get him hard. I would do it gladly. I would sick and nip and his nipples, kiss down his noticeably ripped torso. I would unbutton his pants and smell his musk. It would smell like rotting mushrooms, sour and sweet. He wouldn't care because he has a dick like none other, curved and massive, large enough to intimidate a practiced female, and curved enough to put them off to a fucking altogether. But nothing scares a gay, and I would relish the challenge of easily the largest dick I have ever had to manage. He wouldn't finger me. He would just lube up his dick and go for it. I wouldn't complain, although it would sting and burn. This would be the most heavenly pain I could imagine. The size, but also the curvature would take getting used to. But, unbeknownst to me is Sawyer's staying power. This will easily be the longest fuck I will ever have and I would try my hardest to make it last at least two hours. Just to imagine sharing a bed with this man gets me half hard, and I can't imagine what actually being given the opportunity to do so would yield. I would probably have the hardest cock I have ever felt, the painful cock you wake up with knowing you'll have to run to the toilet or explode.

In the end, I will always opt for Sawyer. The rough one. The diecidedly sexy one who is always failing to succeed with Kate on the show, and so will have to go gay to get his moment of sexual release.

Sorry if this is a silly post for you. Sometimes I just have these overpowering images and thoughts in my head, the wildly inappropriate ones that I must write down otherwise they never get out. The kind of arousing thoughts that will keep me noticing my crotch all day, and won't let go even after I've jacked it. Twice. That's what today was, and I need to be able to sleep tonight without distraction.

Thanks for listening to my fantasy. Who would you prefer to get the fuck from? Who would you prefer to fuck?

PS. I would prefer to fuck Sawyer, too. I just love him.

Cruising for sex

Having been a guy who has cruised for sex, the above video was both hot, and for me a little too close to the truth for comfort.

A Forgettable First

The first time I was fucked I was 16, and lying about my age to a college senior. I wanted it, and I was going to get it. That was my attitude when I went into the situation. It wasn't my attitude when I left his apartment, but my impetuous and hormone ravaged body was desperate to know what sex was. I was nervous, excited, afraid, but thinking I had no reason to be afraid of something so many people loved.

I cruised. I tried to find a semi-decent gay dating website. This was not the one-and-done situation. I wanted my "first time" with a guy to be special. I wanted to at least know the guy's name. His name was Schuyler. He was a horrible choice. He was skinny, awkward, uncomfortable, horny, lonely, and desperate. We first met in a Borders bookstore by the Stephen King novels. I first saw him and knew it would be a mistake to say hi, to continue the contact. I walked away, down the aisle of books, and regretted even coming to the store to begin with. The idea was foolish. The guy was a loser. I was an idiot.

But my conscience interrupted with ideas of "feelings." What about his feelings? How shitty will he feel when he realizes I didn't show up? How douchey will I look? Why don't I at least say hi? Can't I always cut it off if he sucks? Can't I just make excuses until he gets the picture?

My conscience won. I walked back and said, "Hello." He was startled. He was pleased. He liked how cute I was. We talked. We walked around the store. We sat. We drank coffee. He immediately invited me to have some ice cream with his "fag hag" right then and there. He said she would love to meet me. I rebuffed his advance to become closer. I wasn't comfortable with him yet. He insisted. He kept insisting. He told me how much fun it would be, how great his friend was, how much he liked me, how cute he thought I was.

I still refused. I didn't like him. He was too affectionate. Too adulatory. Too encouraging. Too close too soon. Had I had a relationship, or any significant dating experience before this encounter, I would have responded to all of my personal warning signals. I was prescient enough to halt our relationship that much that early on.

I was not smart enough to cut it off altogether. It was refreshing, for the first time, to have someone to give affection to me, to tell me I was sexy, a word he barely whispered, a word that immediately turned me on. We met, and continued to meet. He must have known I wasn't 18. he was 22 himself. I was 16, trying to pass as 18. He kept asking. "How can you really be 18?"

"Do you want to examine my ID?" I would always respond. I would throw it back in his face, but he would always be too shy to actually look. I wonder if he was afraid to realize what he actually thought would be confirmed by my recently issued Driver's License. It was no matter. He never actually looked. He supposed, but never investigated. And then I asked him to fuck me.

It had been building in me for weeks. Ever since I met him I knew I would ask him to fuck me. I would use him. I would hate him, and I would use his dick for experience, and I would leave him immediately afterward. That's what I did.

It was our fourth night hanging out together. We had ordered pizza in, and after it came and we had eaten, we started spooning while watching some horrible gay drama he illegally downloaded off the internet. I was the big spoon. I started kissing his neck, and licking his ear. He rolled around and began kissing me. And as abruptly as we started I stopped and asked him to fuck me.

He didn't want to, but the opportunity presented itself so he agreed. I took off my clothes as matter-of-factly as I could considering the situation, while he threw off everything he was wearing and bounded for the condoms and lube. He was slow and gentle. I think he cared for me. I think he wanted me to enjoy it. He told me it would hurt, and I had read enough by that point to know. I didn't know how it woudl hurt, and when his cockhead started to penetrate my asshole, I understood how painful it could be. I screamed. He stopped, immediately retreated. But I told him to go on. At that point, I only wanted him to get it in.

I kept encouraging him through grunts and cringes. He knew I wasn't enjoying it, but he wanted to fuck me as much as I wanted it, and with a raging hardon, it's hard not to say no to an inviting ass. After what seemed like hours, his cock was in my ass to the base. Once he made it in, I begged him to take it out. I knew I couldn't take an actual fuck. He understood. He seemed almost happy. He seemed genuinely concerned for my feelings. He said we'd use some dildos and practice stretching before we tried again.

He kept using the word we. I knew we weren't a "we" and I felt embarrassed. I walked away. I put my clothes on and said I needed to go, needed to think about this. He wanted to follow me, but he didn't go beyond his stoop. I just walked away and never looked back.

I almost cried on the drive home. Ben Folds was playing when I got in the car. I started crying on the way home, and detoured around the city until I stopped. I got a soda from McDonald's and drove until I wasn't thinking about Schuyler anymore. I drove until I emptied my mind as much as I could. I focused on the pain in my ass. I concentrated on the road. It flowed down the earth, as uninterrupted as the pain, but smooth. The pain shot and throbbed. It jolted and eased. It ebbed in my body. As much as I thought about it, I thought about Radiohead and Schindler's List more.

I got home and I deleted the gay dating site profile I created to find Schuyler. I delete any knowledge of him. I avoided all places he might go. I moved on. After Schuyler, I knew I could fuck anyone I wanted with no emotion. And I did. Throughout my senior year of high school I was a closeted slut.

Does a first fuck really need to be emotional? Important? I realize Schuyler is really important to my carnal knowledge history, but beyond that, I don't care for him or about him? How much does a gay man care for his first? Or, am I an anomaly? Am I a stranger amongst strangers?

NOTE: I've gotten a lot of really great feedback from a lot of people in different ways, and I think it would be really great for people to discuss these issues and topics in a forum. I know the comments section of this blog isn't great, but it's a place to start.

So, my question for you: What was your first time having sex like (either as a bottom or a top)? How important is that person to you now?