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  1. #1

    Summer road trip (True story)

    Hey fellas, longtime lurker here. Thought I'd chime in. I have to admit, I'm a little hesitant to write this because I don't like to brag. But what the hell, you don't know who I am.

    I've been pretty sexually repressed most of my life, for a couple of different reasons. One was that I was getting a bit chunky. Not obese, but I grew up a ranch boy and had a strong body as a teenager. The problem was, I had no idea how to maintain it as I started an office career. So I ate too much and sat around and packed on the pounds.

    A couple of years ago, I decided to do something about it. I dropped about 50 lbs of body fat and put on about 25 lbs of lean muscle mass. I'm a typical endomorph, built like a linebacker – the definition's tough to get, but the benefit is that making big muscles is relatively easy for me. I've hit weight training pretty hard over the last year and have developed a fairly impressive physique. Not that I fit the 'ideal' male image – at 32, male pattern baldness has started creeping in, so I keep my hair buzzed, and I still have that last ten lbs of fat to go, so what I have for abs is a 4-pack. But I have a good masculine look now, good posture, a decent chest, great arms, and a big honkin' ass and legs (gifts from my dear mother). Like I said, linebacker build. Medium shirts are nice and snug on me. Furry but trimmed, Swede heritage, a fine and full beard from time to time. Enough hot guys find me attractive that my self-confidence has soared in the last year and I'm actually having fun with my sexuality. I'm vers, if you're wondering.

    Anyway, you get the picture. If you like masculine bearish muscle types, I'm an 8. If you don't, shrug.

    So I'm a perfectionist and have made it a point to get quite good at fucking, either top or bottom. When I bottom, I need a guy who will take it slow and work with me, but after about ten minutes I realize it feels good and I get aggressive – imagine a 190-lb hunk of muscle pounding his ass up into you, growling and tossing you in the air a few inches as you hold onto his back for dear life trying not to cum or fall off. That's how I like to bottom. But I honestly prefer an average-size dick – I generally have a tough time with big cocks.

    When I top, I'm a lover. I don't fuck for my pleasure; I get off on watching the bottom's face and reacting to what he likes and shooting him over the moon. I start out slow and gentle, kissing and nibbling, wrapping my arms around him, letting him melt into my powerful body. When he's ready, I use every bit of strength and endurance I have – which are considerable – and pound him while he moans and yells and begs for more. My dick's a little smaller than average, about 5 and a half inches. To compensate, I've learned how to angle it just right so that I pound the prostate into a quivering puddle. I don't even have to cum; when I'm done with him, if he's breathless and sweaty and spent and smiling, I get a rush and an ego boost, knowing I did my job right. I love that. About nine out of ten times that I top, that's what happens.

    Over the summer, I decided to take a road trip around the Western US, with the center feature a meander down the Pacific Coast Highway. Pretty country, big trees, I got some great photos of natural parks. That's what I tell all my friends about. But I only went to the national parks on weekdays. On weekends, I was in cities fucking as much as I could. Over the two weeks I was traveling, I fucked with nine men, seven of whom were actually good sex. I played with some others, without fucking, but I lost count of those. In Seattle, I fucked a Mexican (as in, green card and a work visa) with a tight, defined body. We went out on the town, I slept with him, then fucked him again in the morning. By the way, the gay scene in Seattle is locked up in cliques. Good luck breaking in if you're from out of town. In Portland, where I stopped in at the gym since my body was killing me from all the driving, I came across a muscle-jock Hispanic dude; this fucker was made of marble. He got me back to his studio apartment in Tacoma. I rode him until I shot all over his chest, he stood up and came on me, then he kicked me out because he was expecting his boyfriend.

    San Francisco was good to me. The hot guys there seem to have less attitude. Maybe it's because they have more competition, I don't know. I went to Eros, a bathhouse in Castro. Funny thing about San Francisco, private rooms in bathhouses are illegal. Eros has a lot of nooks and crannies, but if you have sex, you're doing it in public view. Anyway, I managed to seduce a muscular Asian. He's almost as big as me, so I think I surprised him when I started bucking up onto his cock, throwing him around. He came inside me (condom was on :-) ). Then he finger-fucked a load out of me.

    I came across another Asian guy on A4A, he invited me to his place. Beautiful jockish body, great proportions. I fucked him, wheedled him into letting me sleep there, then gave him a full body massage and fucked him again in the morning.

    I had two more experiences that weekend that really stood out to me, so I'll go into some detail. You may have heard of Steamworks. The one in Berkeley is mind-blowingly big, and naturally being across the bay from San Francisco is heavily frequented. Both of these happened there.

    The first still stands out as the best bottoming experience of my life. I ran across a kid in the showers – about 19, lean and defined. Looks like a black / Latino mix. Not skinny, but not very muscular. He stepped close to me and grabbed my ass. (My ass gets a lot of attention, much to my chagrin – it's my upper body that I've killed myself on, dammit!) A very confident kid, which is kind of unusual. I glanced down at a huge cock – semi-hard, it was a good 8. I raised my eyebrows. “Woah, that's a big dick.”

    “Do you want it?”

    “I'm not a power bottom.”

    He looked a little disappointed. “Let me rim you at least.”

    I shrugged and took him to my room. I settled in face down on the bed and he went to work. Felt great. I was a bit sleepy, it was relaxing to have him working at my ass. I kind of dozed in and out for a good half an hour while he worked at my ass, stretching it gently, licking, probing.

    Finally, I felt him shuffle to his knees and start poking at me with his ten-incher. I was pretty blown away as he worked it in – no poppers, no lube, just a ton of spit that he'd worked in and a half hour of patience getting me relaxed and loose.

    Public service announcement: bareback sex really isn't worth the risk. Get the condoms handy and use them. That said, I have to admit once in a while I get turned on enough to overwhelm my good sense.

    I wasn't there yet; my ass was sticking in the air as he worked into it, and I craned my neck around. “Just so you know, I'm going to make you stop and put on a condom in a minute.” He didn't say anything. He kept working it in, deeper and deeper. I was amazed when his hips met my ass. I'd never taken a cock like that before, and it didn't even hurt. He started thrusting gently and I started rocking back into him.

    After a minute, he got to his feet, straddling my ass. He wrapped his right foot in front of my thigh for leverage, and he started fucking in earnest. Holy shit, I still get hard thinking about how that felt – deep, full, intense as his raw ten inches moved everything around inside me.

    He pulled out – ten inches sliding slowly out, it felt for a long moment like it wasn't going to end. He flipped me on my back and folded me in half. By now, I couldn't give a fuck about the condom, I just wanted his raw cock deep in my ass. So here's this lean twink, maybe a buck-40, folding a 190-lb hunk of muscle in half and making him beg for more. He buried it again; I remember groaning at how it felt getting filled back up. I wrapped my arm under my thigh and started jacking while he fucked me hard and deep. In five minutes, I was convulsing in orgasm with that monster buried in my ass.

    He was considerate; he slowly withdrew. Again, I was surprised at how long the sensation of him pulling out lasted. I'll never forget – there was a sucking, slurping sound from my asshole as he pulled free.

    I swung my legs to the side of the bed, breathing hard. “I didn't think I could do that,” I said. He just smiled. He seemed perfectly happy to not cum.

    “You get off on picking on us big guys, don't you?” I asked as we stepped from my room.

    He gave me that cocky grin. “Yeah, kinda.” Funny kid. I've wondered how someone his age gets that level of skill and experience fucking – especially bigger, muscular guys – he clearly knew how to take control of me. It would have been fun to ask.

    Before this happened, I looked at big cocks with a little fear. Ever since, I've been kind of fascinated with them, kind of like finding a new challenge. I've managed to find a couple more to take since. I do a lot better now, but nothing has compared to the intensity of that kid's raw ten inches.

    The other experience was with a big, muscular, almost bodybuilder type with great definition. Porn model material and Asian (have I got yellow fever or something?). I found out later, during our post-sex cuddling, that he is about 45, though I would have guessed early 30's. He also told me later that he was in the Navy until a couple of years ago; that's where he got big.

    I spotted him in the showers. I stepped up to him and brushed his chest. “You look good, man.” It's my standard way of expressing interest in a bathhouse. He touched mine back and jerked his head; I followed him to his room.

    I was really into him. I love the feel of lean, hard muscle under smooth skin. It's the type of guy I always go for. Big or toned, either works for me. I don't care a lot about age or race, I don't worry about the face as much, dick size is completely irrelevant, but give me a guy who knows how to push away from the table and knows his way around the gym and I'm gaga.

    So here I was with this guy who's my wet dream and who was clearly into me. I love it when that happens. We made out passionately for quite a while, rolling around each other, groping and rubbing and massaging. Then he told me to stand on the bed. This room has a couple of straps mounted at the top of the walls. He looped them around my wrists then blindfolded me. This sort of thing doesn't really turn my crank, but he liked it, so I was happy enough to stand there helpless while he sucked my dick.

    He let me down after a few minutes and we resumed making out. I worked him to his belly and lay over his back, wrapping my arms around his chest, nuzzling his neck, sliding my dick along his crack – my standard position to get a bottom ready to take me. It relaxes them, gets them comfortable with me being in control, and gives me an excellent initial fucking position. It's a way that I leverage my size and strength to put them at ease – I turn into a big, gentle teddy bear. Even a nervous bottom will usually relax and be ready to take it in a few minutes.

    Finally, I wedged my cock against his hole and put some pressure on. If a guy presses back and groans with desire, I know he's ready. That's what he did, so I grabbed his lube (this stuff had a particularly strong cherry taste and smell) and started slowly, slowly working my cock in. My idea was to penetrate bare, then put the condom on in a minute after he'd gotten used to it. Like I said: not a good idea, kids, but I was too turned on for good sense.

    Damn, he was tight. He was really having a hard time taking it. I took it slow, whispered encouragement into his ear, let him get used to it. He was really struggling and finally asked me to pull out. We made out again for a couple of minutes. He told me later that bottoming had always been hard for him, because his first time when he was younger had been pretty traumatic – the other guy hadn't been nice to him. So take heed, tops – be good to your bottoms, especially the new ones. You're giving them an impression that will last a long, long time. Anyway, in retrospect, it explains why he was having such a hard time bottoming for me.

    I talked him into trying again - “We'll work on it,” I told him. “We'll take it slow.” I told him he'd have more control if he sat on it, so that's what we did. I lay back and he mounted me – damn, watching and feeling that hunk of beef ride me. I had no problem staying hard with him.

    So he gingerly rode by bare cock for a couple of minutes, then shook his head and pulled off. I was amazed when he bent over me and started sucking – I'd actually never had a bottom who was into ATM. Not my thing, but I wasn't going to stop him. Evidently, though, it really turned him on – he kept settling onto my cock, riding slowly for a couple of minutes, then getting off and sucking. He grinned at me once and said, “Tastes like cherry.”

    After about the fifth or sixth ride, he got off, tired. We kissed again, then I encouraged him to get on one more time. “I want to try something, see if it works for you. I promise, there's a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.” This is something I do with guys when they're getting tired of riding me. I take their hand and have them lean back about 30 degrees, pulling on my arm for support. It angles my cock right into their prostate and every stroke is a wave of intensity through them. Most can't handle it for more than a minute or two.

    He didn't seem to react that way, though, so I was puzzled. How was I going to get him into getting fucked? We made out again, then finally found it by accident. He mounted me reverse-cowboy then lay back onto my chest. THAT did the trick. In seconds, he was moaning, eyes rolled back, my arms wrapped around his meaty, hard body as I pounded him and used my arms to slide him down my body onto my cock over and over.

    In moments, we were both slippery and dripping with sweat. He grabbed his dick and jacked; he came not two minutes later, his asshole spasming and squirting out my cock. His muscles convulsed in my arms and against my chest as cum flew all over the place. It was glorious.

    He finger-fucked me to completion; with all that pent up energy, I had one of the hardest orgasms of my life. We cuddled and kissed and chatted for a bit after that, bathed in a sloppy pool of sweat and cum.

    I had taken a guy who was my fantasy and made him love getting fucked in spite of a lifetime of psychological inhibition. I had felt his amazing body in the most intimate ways possible. It had been kinky and sweaty and at the end completely unrestrained, uninhibited, and animalistic – like man sex ought to be. And in spite of my warnings and general policy about safe sex, I have to admit that I loved fucking him all the more because it was bare.

    Ask me anything. I'll follow this thread for a week or so.

  2. #2

    Re: Summer road trip (True story)

    Wow, 420 views and no comments. You people are like a Seattle clique.

  3. #3

    Re: Summer road trip (True story)

    thats hot, i wish i could have those kind of encounters lol

    have you gotten tested lately though?

  4. #4

    Re: Summer road trip (True story)

    Thanks, pmctf

    Got tested a couple weeks ago. Picked up a case of chlamydia somewhere. Easy fix, but definitely a wake-up call about being more vigilant, especially in those kinds of places.

  5. #5
    On the Prowl
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    Sep 2011

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    Re: Summer road trip (True story)

    wow that sounds really hot, when are you coming to the UK lol

  6. #6

    Re: Summer road trip (True story)

    Hah, as soon as the dollar recovers against the pound and I can afford it

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